Just Wait For Me
A Highland Gardens Novel
Book 3
Dawn Marie Hamilton
BACK COVER BLURB
The third match in the Fae Queen's challenge is in play. Will fae magic change Stephen and Jillian's destiny?
In the chaotic aftermath of the battle of Flodden, an injured Highland warrior makes a vow to a twenty-first century lass cast back in time by a meddling, matchmaking faerie. Stephen MacEwen promises to find a way to send her forward to her own time. But is that an oath he'll want to keep after finding love in Jillian O'Donnell's arms? After saving Stephen's life, will Jillian want to go?
No matter what the lovers decide, Stephen's wife—a woman who acquired the title through deceit—and an old enemy attempt to destroy the couple's chance for happiness. Only with the help of fae allies can Stephen and Jillian overcome and earn their reward—everlasting love.
Journey from the woods of West Virginia to the Scottish Highlands of 1513 to the Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina with Just Wait For Me.
COPYRIGHT
Copyright © Dawn Marie Wolzein, August 2016
Edited by Cindy Davis
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the author, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is coincidental.
DEDICATION
In memory of Lisa
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
So many individuals helped bring this book to fruition. Too many to mention here, but you know who you are, and I hope know you have my heartfelt thanks.
Thank you to Cindy Davis for editorial guidance and thank you to Cathy MacRae and Cate Parke for critiques. Thank you to the very supportive Kimberley Court and Debbie McCreary. Words cannot convey how important you all are to me.
Thank you to Frank, my husband, best friend, and personal hero.
And most importantly, thank you to the readers of the Highland Gardens series.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
BACK COVER BLURB
COPYRIGHT
DEDICATION
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
TABLE OF CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
EPILOGUE
AUTHOR NOTE
ALSO FROM DAWN MARIE HAMILTON
FUTURE WORKS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
PROLOGUE
9 September, 1513
Near the village of Branxton in northern England
The king is dead.
Anguish tore from her halfling soul with a fae scream that reverberated over the field of devastation like rolling thunder. Silence ensued. Men frozen in fear.
Caitrina dropped to her knees beside the redheaded warrior and ran gentle fingers along the bloodied curve of his handsome face. Damn Oonagh! Damn the Fae Queen! She’d refused to allow Caitrina to intervene in the politics of the mortals and prevent this tragedy.
Now, the king lay dead, fatally wounded by an arrow and a bill. Be damned the English and their nasty weapon—the bill, a staff mounted with a hooked chopping blade and pointed projections. The Scots hadn’t stood a chance against the onslaught on the slippery, hilly terrain with their cumbersome pikes.
Heartbroken, she cradled the man to her breast. Such greatness lost. Tears spilled unchecked onto his precious face. Too late. Even the magic tears of a Sithichean princess couldn’t revive the king.
“Caitrina! Let us be away from here.” The brùnaidh, the Maclachlan Clan brownie, fussed at her back. “We must remove Stephen from the field before the English learn he lives and plunge a bill into his chest.”
She ignored the wee man. How would the Scots forge forward without their beloved king—with only a bairn and the sister of the despised English monarch to guide them?
“If we lose Stephen you will never regain your rightful place.”
Aye. She must deal with Oonagh and the stupid matchmaking challenge. Caitrina released James from her embrace and eased him to the ground. “Sleep in peace, oh, greatest king.”
The metallic tang of blood fouled the air. She rose and moved through the death and destruction. Oonagh had tricked her. Led her to believe after three matches she’d be free to return and live in Tir-nan-Og, the beloved faerie paradise, land o’ heart’s desire. But Oonagh had refused to reveal which match was the third and final. The one that would free Caitrina from servitude to the Fae Queen.
Caitrina and Munn had expended considerable energy on a third match only to learn Archibald and Isobell were the wrong couple. Therefore, one match remained to perform.
“Needs be we hurry!” Munn sidestepped one of the petrified English knights.
They found Stephen’s prone form not far from that of his king. Caitrina rolled him over and took stock of his injuries. Thanks be to Danu, the blond warrior would live. She cloaked the three of them in fae mist and whisked them away on the fetid breeze to the healing caves of the Gray Women.
The battlefield returned to morbid activity—an agony of pain.
CHAPTER ONE
Present day
Greenbrier River Trail, West Virginia
“Rattlesnake!”
Jillian pedaled as fast as she could past autumn-tinted trees, to catch up to her brother, the rat. Why must he always speed ahead, leaving her in the dust?
“Kyle O'Donnell, did you hear me? I said...no, I screamed...rattlesnake.”
As she rode the dusty mountain bike alongside, he slowed. “You overreact.”
“Do not. There was a rattlesnake on the trail. What if the nasty snake bit me, and you were so far ahead you didn't know? The poison would surge through my system before help arrived.”
Kyle chuckled. “That snake was more afraid of you than you of it. Relax.”
Sure. The repulsive reptile hastily slithered away, but she wanted to make a point. “Why do you always dart ahead?”
“Because you're a slowpoke.” He gave her a toothy grin. “Always wait for you to catch up. Don't I?”
Jillian gnashed her teeth. Why must he be so difficult? After all, Kyle was the one who begged her to come on this stupid cycling trip. The least he could do was ride at her pace.
Who would have thought at twenty-eight, and as a co-owner of Foxgloves, a successful garden business, she still chased after her thirty-year-old sibling? She’d only
agreed to join Kyle because she’d needed to get away. Away from all the happy-happy between Finn and Elspeth.
“Come on, the tunnel isn't far. Let's race.” Her brother sped ahead again.
Jillian sighed and took her sweet time to catch up. Fifteen minutes later, she crossed the weathered train trestle and arrived at the spot where Kyle waited sporting an exasperated expression.
“Took you long enough.”
Oh, how she wanted to kick him. Instead, she blew a kiss.
He brushed strands of annoyingly perfect sun-bleached blond hair out of disgustingly gorgeous chocolate eyes and laughed. “Let's take a break before we ride through the tunnel.”
So not fair. He got all the good looks and all their parent's attention. Pah-lease. She was pathetic. Really. She needed to get over the past.
He studied her through narrowed eyes. “What’s wrong with you lately?”
“Nothing.” She shrugged a shoulder. “It’s just…this trip is boring.”
“Like teaching strangers how to put multiple plants into one big pot isn’t?”
“It’s container gardening. It’s my job. It’s creative.” And a hell of a lot better than her help desk job had been.
“And this is your vacation, which you seem to need. Try chilling out.”
Right. Easy for him to say.
While they munched trail mix, Jillian covertly glanced into the entrance of the abandoned train tunnel. Dim and ominous. Water trickled from fissures in the stone walls and ceiling. A damp breeze wafting from within brought a musty odor that drilled into her nostrils and sent a chill over her spine.
“Must we go through there? Couldn't we return to the last campsite? Enjoy the afternoon in the sun?”
“Don't you want to see what's on the other side?”
She stared into the dank tunnel. “Not really.”
“Don't be a spoil sport. We haven't ridden enough miles today. I promise, after we go through the tunnel, we'll only ride another five. I heard there is a nice campground near a quaint town. Can you say restaurant?”
Jillian didn’t want to go any farther, but there was no use arguing. She’d never get Kyle to turn back. They would ride all the way to the southern end of the trail as planned.
She righted her bike and walked toward the gloomy entrance. Clouds stole across the sun making it difficult to see anything within. Jillian shivered. The hairs on her arms stood on end. Something didn’t feel right about this place.
“Ready?” Kyle asked.
“No.”
“Come on, Jilly. It'll be fun.”
A couple on a silver tandem bicycle rode from the tunnel, waving as they passed. Sunshine reappeared from the clouds.
“See? It's safe,” Kyle said.
“All right. But I'm walking my bike through. Just wait for me on the other side.”
Kyle pedaled off, popped a wheelie, and entered the odious opening. Jillian pulled a headlamp out of her pack, secured it over her baseball cap, and flicked it on. Inhaling deeply, she slowly walked her bike into the dark.
The beam of light bounced off brick walls and earthen floor. In the far distance, hazy sunlight indicated the other end of the tunnel. Okay, she could do this. There was nothing here to fear. She proceeded carefully, taking shallow breaths. About a quarter of the way through, rough rock replaced brick on the walls. A blast of super-cold air hit her side.
What the—
She shined the light into what appeared to be a deep well. Narrow and foreboding. She kicked a stone in and didn’t hear it land. Suddenly, something pressed against her back. A hand? Her pulse spiked. Whoa! A dizzy sensation swamped her. She stumbled. Lost hold of the bike. Fell—or was she being pulled?
She tumbled into the mysterious opening. Falling forward, her body became weightless as she plummeted down…down…down…into a black void. A horrible buzzing assaulted her ears. She screamed, but no sound passed suddenly parched lips.
This shouldn’t be happening. A piercing white light appeared, drawing her to it. What was there? Who was there? The light intensified. She closed burning eyes. No relief. Pain burst behind heavy lids, making her head throb relentlessly. Bile burned her throat. Just when the agony became too much to endure, the cruel light exploded into a zillion vibrant colors.
Fireworks in a July sky. Her mind blanked.
Panting, Jillian crouched, tips of fingers pressed against the ground for balance. The nauseous sensation gradually subsided and she attempted to stand. Vertigo forced her to her knees, and her stomach lurched again.
Breathe, Jillian. Breathe.
She inhaled deep breaths, trying to calm down. The queasiness finally passed and she sat against the rough trunk of a tree. Exhaustion tempted her to curl up and sleep. But she needed to hurry and catch up with…who? Yeah, yeah—Kyle.
Where was he? Where was she?
Jillian didn't recognize the surroundings. The towering evergreens were larger than any she'd seen before, heavy needles blocking a majority of the late afternoon light. The dense forest wasn’t like any they’d cycled through on this trip.
She started to shake. This was no time to come unglued. She inhaled a deep, calming breath. Think, Jillian, analyze the situation. How did you get here? Her last memory was entering the train tunnel and falling. Had someone shoved her? She’d thought she felt the pressure of a hand on her back as she’d stumbled forward.
Strange. Who would have pushed her? They’d only seen the couple on the tandem, riding the other way. No other cyclists or hikers.
Why had Kyle deserted her? Why hadn’t he returned? Shouted for her? Tried to find her?
Frowning, she removed one of the water bottles attached to her pack, took a long swig, and assessed the height of the sun. Would be dark soon. How much time had passed while she couldn’t think straight? She scanned the area. Great. Her bike was missing and there was no sign of a trail.
Shit! Her cell phone was in one of the panniers on the bike. Not that it mattered. The damn device hadn’t gotten a signal in a couple of days.
Nerves taut, she swallowed hard. There would be no submitting to fear. If she started walking, surely she’d come across a road or some such thing. Right?
Jillian trudged along until taking another step became next to impossible. Her feet hurt. Bike shoes were little protection against the rough, rocky terrain. The setting sun painted the sky shades of crimson, and she was lost. Completely and utterly lost, but she refused to panic. Hiking and camping was nothing new. There must be a safe place nearby to settle in for the night. Tomorrow, certainly, she’d find some sign of civilization.
Cripes. West Virginia seemed even more remote than she realized.
On a scree-covered slope, she spotted a protected area under an overhanging ledge. She scrambled up the incline, slipping and sliding, scraping knees and hands. Fleece cover-ups, a wind jacket, and a space blanket were in her pack. Pulling out the silver cloth, she laid it on the ground. She slipped into the fleece and zipped the jacket snug as the sun disappeared over the horizon. Jillian worried her lip. Already the temperature was dropping.
Wanting to save the batteries in the headlamp, she turned it off and ate a power bar in the dark. She wrapped the blanket tight, and used the pack as a pillow. “Hummmm. Hummm. Humm.” When humming didn’t ease the jitters, she made up silly stories as a distraction. An exceptionally sharp stone dug into her hip. “Ouch.” She squirmed, trying to find a more comfortable position. Finally, exhaustion took hold and, despite the chill, she slept.
Thunder from a passing storm jolted her awake. The feeling someone watched skittered over raw nerves. She blinked, trying to adjust her vision to the dark. Hu…hu-hooooo an owl called from a distance. Other nighttime forest sounds heightened growing anxiety. She expected to see glowing animal eyes. Were there wolves in West Virginia? But no, it seemed she was alone.
Nervous and stiff, it took a while to fall asleep again only to startle awake before dawn. The storm had passed and a bright silver moon
slid in and out of clouds creating shifting shadows. An odd disfiguration of bark on a nearby tree caught Jillian’s attention. The scarred wood appeared as a young boy's face.
Staring hard at the tree, she smiled as the face changed in the moon's unpredictable light. Two distinctly different faces appeared within the rough bark. The first, a boy with a pudgy nose and big sad eyes, and the second—
She must be dehydrated. Delusional. Imagining faces embedded in a perfectly normal tree. Jillian huddled deeper into the cocoon of warmth the space blanket provided and tried to fall back to sleep. The forest’s woodsy scent reminded her of how horribly lost she was, so sleep wouldn’t come. She stared at the tree again. A third face appeared in the texture of the old oak. This one had a scarred forehead and a crooked mouth.
Such fanciful thoughts. She snorted. Alone in the woods and she was killing time imagining faces in a tree trunk. Sleep was what she needed. One, two, three, she counted plants on a potting bench in the greenhouse at Foxgloves instead of counting sheep—one hundred thirty-two, thirty-three, thirty-four…
Finally, Jillian dozed again.
When she woke a third time, a chill had seeped into her bones. She sat up and pulled the space blanket more snug. The tree looked different in the misty light of morning and another image appeared. This tiny face had an elongated nose and wisps of blond hair dangled across its brow. Jillian covered her mouth to stifle a giggle. She'd recently read a book about faeries and changelings and stolen children. She imagined that the hobgoblins lived in this tree. That stolen boys—
The snap of a branch made her jump. Her stomach knotted.
Standing before her was a gnarled little man. No more than three feet tall, he nearly blended into the surrounding woods. The peculiar clothes he wore matched the colors of the forest. And his dusty brown skin had wrinkles upon wrinkles. Elf-like ears stuck out from beneath a pointed cap. But what startled her most were the unusual blue-green eyes that bore into her.
Just Wait For Me (Highland Gardens Book 3) Page 1