They continued along the water’s edge until the terrain abruptly sloped upward. The children darted ahead. A narrow rock-strewn trail climbed through a hillside of heather. Some plants still in bloom. Jillian brushed the toe of a bike shoe across a spike of muted, purple blossoms, triggering a light floral scent. She hadn’t imagined heather to be so prevalent in West Virginia. Actually, she’d expected more trees.
She shrugged and followed the kids. What did she know having never been there before?
As the trail became rougher and steeper, the children scrambled over boulders like little monkeys. Jillian slipped on scree and cursed her unsuitable bike shoes. Overheating, she removed her wind jacket, stuffed it into her pack, and then drew the red fleece top she wore over her head, tying it around her waist by the sleeves. After tripping and falling a couple more times, short of breath, hands torn and stinging, she caught up to the kids. They had reached a shelf that ran along the cliff face.
Not comfortable with heights, she didn’t dare look down. “Just where exactly are you taking me?”
“A hidden way into the caves.” Duff smiled from where he negotiated the ledge at her side.
Jillian huffed out a breath. “Isn’t there an easier approach?”
“Aye, there is.” He shook his head. “Not safe. We dinnae want to run into bad men.”
Cripes. “Are there many in the area?”
He nodded, features grim, but then his face brightened with a smile. “Dinnae fret. We ken how to avoid them.”
Just great. She hoped they didn’t find trouble.
They continued, taking one precarious step after another. Jillian gulped. The shelf they crept along was getting narrower. She gripped the rock face with now bleeding fingers. “How much farther?”
“Almost there.” Duff brushed a wisp of blond hair out of hazel eyes.
And then what? Why had she followed the kids? She sighed. Because there was no one else to help her get unlost. All right then. Jillian straightened her shoulders. Might as well follow through.
One after the other, the children leapt over a crevasse, a perilous drop, then disappeared from sight. Duff waited until Jillian sidled up close. “Just over this gap is the cave.”
“Okay.” She watched him jump and disappear same as the other children.
Jillian swallowed hard. Easy peasy. Right? Inhaling deeply, she took a leap of faith and tumbled sideways into the mouth of the cave, sprawling on hands and knees.
“Ouch!” Her voice echoed in the cavernous space.
It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dim interior, but then she smiled. Blaney and Duff held torches, and three harmless-looking grandmotherly types stood with the children, concerned expressions wrinkling their brows.
“What have you wee urchins brought to our door?” one woman asked.
The three wore strange clothing—long gray skirts with gray over-blouses and dark gray on light gray plaid shawls covering their heads and wrapped around their chests—as if from a different time period. Actually, now that Jillian thought about it, the children’s drab rags seemed from a time long past. Her pulse quickened.
“Just exactly where am I?”
One of the women cackled causing gooseflesh to prickle Jillian’s arms. “Ach, well, these caverns are kenned by many as the Caves of the Gray Women. Welcome to our home.”
“Seems the children have brought us another stray soul in need of help, sisters,” said the one who spoke first.
“Best we tell our lad,” said the third. “Come, lass.”
“Wait—”
The three women abruptly turned and ducked into a narrow tunnel, the children at their heels. Except for Duff and Keita. They waited solemnly.
Could the women help her?
Jillian shivered. Another tunnel. Although these caves didn’t feel as threatening as the old train tunnel on the bike trail had. Tugging her warm fleece top back on, she swallowed rising anxiety before it overwhelmed her and smiled at the children. “Shall we?”
A short trek through the rough-sided tunnel brought them to a smaller cavern. Jillian inhaled sharply when one of the torches shed light on a large lump in the corner. A blond man, wrapped in her stolen space blanket, sprawled motionless on plaid blankets spread over the stone floor with his back to them.”
“Stephen dear, we have company.”
The man turned slowly and rose to a seated position. He wore an impassive expression, a long, sharp-looking, knife clutched in a big hand.
“How did you get my space blanket?” Jillian curled her hands into fists, anger making her braver than prudent.
The man’s head tilted to the side as he studied her, and the blanket slipped revealing a massive bare chest. A terribly scarred chest. The blade disappeared and a smile curved his mouth. Jillian’s mind turned to mush. She took a step back and tried not to drool. Though he was scruffy, his gorgeous blue peepers knocked the air from her lungs.
With effort, Stephen blanked his features. ’Twas quite a feat, being he gazed upon the loveliest creature, eyes wide, a hand clutched to her chest. Damn! She was repulsed by the sight of him. He tugged the cloth up, covering the puffy, pink scars on his chest, hoping to ease her distaste.
At least his face hadn’t been damaged in the battle.
Her arm dropped to the side, lips parting ever so slightly. Maybe she wasn’t offended by his scars? He smiled again.
“What have we here?” he asked, voice gruff from lack of use.
The lass moistened her lips. Becoming aroused, he stifled a groan. Damned luck. Of all times to find a woman to have such an effect on him. Him with serious injury and, perhaps worse, handfasted with another. Though loath to have gotten into such a predicament with a lass he disliked and didn’t trust, the fact remained another woman already laid claim to him. Refusing to dawdle on that path of thought, he shook off unwanted memories.
The lass standing before him must be the one of whom Munn spoke. Her garments were strange. Of a type of cloth unknown to him. But it was her heart-shaped face framed by hair the color of the rich earth in Castle Lachlan’s garden that left him spellbound. Dark lashes graced warm brown eyes specked with gold that made his insides shiver. And the tip of an impish nose sprinkled with fern-tickles—as if the lass were descended from the fae—begged to be kissed.
Her lips—
Grrr! He’d never be able to fulfill the desire to kiss those sweet lips. Why did she drop into his life now? When he was already handfasted and only half a man?
“Like what you see?” The angry tone of her voice snapped him out of the rude perusal.
“What is your name?” he demanded.
She raised her chin, and he thought she would refuse to answer.
“Jillian O’Donnell. And you have my space blanket.” Her hands fisted on slender hips.
“I never meant… Here.” He dropped the odd silver plaide and struggled with his crutch to stand. Heat flushed his face and pain burned his muscles. He wobbled before finding secure footing for his wounded leg. He held out the cloth. “Take it.”
The lass gasped. Eyes wide, she clutched the plaide to her chest. “You’re…”
“What? Have you not seen a naked man afore?” Fool. Now she kenned the enormity of his injuries.
Without waiting for an answer, he leaned on the crutch and hobbled across the chamber and, less stable than he would have liked, ducked into the tunnel and away from the delectable lass, his powerful reaction to her more than disturbing.
CHAPTER FOUR
Munn spun, creating a whirlwind of leaves and forest debris, onto the spot where he’d left the lass. She was gone. He stomped across the ground and sniffed the air, his nose wrinkling with distaste. The lost bairns had been there. He didn’t have time for their tricks this day.
He furrowed his brow and pursed his lips. Perhaps the lass was with the bairns?
Stephen would be angry with him, but he hadn’t meant to lose track of the lass. Munn hung his head, kicked at th
e dirt. What to do? What to do?
Fading from sight, he followed the scent of the bairns through the wood, along the edge of the sea-loch, over the heather-covered hill, along the cliff face to the hidden entrance of the caves. He clung to the craggy rock wall and, gripping narrow crevices with fingers and toes, peered over the edge into the mouth of the cave. Had the bairns brought the lass to Stephen?
Cloaked with invisibility, Munn crept into the sprawling outer chamber, not wishing to encounter the Gray Women. He inhaled sharply, catching the mingling essence of peony and freesia and sandalwood. Caitrina. She must be near.
Was she here to check on Stephen or to play a game piece on the queen’s chessboard?
Munn frowned, annoyed the faerie hadn’t confided the identity of the woman in play. Thinking hard, something he hated to do, he pressed fingers against his temples and concentrated. A lass dressed as a lad, seemingly like Lady Laurie. He scratched his chin. Ah! She must be the one.
Sporting a huge grin, Munn rushed through the maze of tunnels in search of Stephen, only to be sucked into one of the internal chambers against his will. How dare the annoying faerie? He spun until his rage petered out and he landed on his rump on the cold stone floor at her feet.
“Are you finished?” Caitrina waited, eyebrows raised, emerald gaze filled with scorn.
He clenched his fists. He hated that look.
“I ken who is to be matched with Stephen.” Munn stood, puffed out his chest, and brushed dust from his garments. “’Tis the lass from the wood. Aye?”
Caitrina flicked auburn locks over a shoulder and smiled impishly.
Uh-oh! He was in trouble. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. One moment he stared at Caitrina in all her fae beauty and the next a hag dressed in gray. However, the emerald eyes remained the same. Filled with malice.
“I cannot allow you to get in my way.” With a snap of slender fingers, she sent him traveling sideways through a void in time and space.
* * *
Jillian shut her mouth with a snap. The audacity of the man.
But, whoa! He possessed the firmest, masculine backside she’d ever seen in the flesh. Her hands had itched to squeeze the rounded butt-cheeks before he disappeared into yet another tunnel. She touched several fingers to her burning face, confused emotions battling for dominance—anger, lust, sympathy.
“What happened to him?” she blurted. “Never mind. I’m lost and need to find the nearest phone so I can call my brother, or someone who can help me get home.”
The women of the cave glanced from one to the other, shrugged, and then stared at her as if she was crazy.
“We dinnae understand,” one woman said.
“What is a phone?” another asked.
A dizzy-sick feeling swamped Jillian. They don’t know what a phone is? “Listen. I need to go home.”
“Dinnae fash. Our lad will take care of you,” the third said.
“Him?” She pointed to the tunnel through which the hunk of a man had disappeared.
The first woman grasped Jillian by the wrists and turned her hands palms-up. “Tsk. Tsk. Your hands are torn raw.”
“The faerie pool will make them better,” said the second.
“But I need to find my way home,” Jillian persisted.
“Oh, aye, our lad will help you find your way,” said the third.
Jillian’s head started to hurt. She hadn’t noticed earlier, but the women had the exact same appearance as identical triplets. She shut her eyes and rubbed aching temples. When she looked again, everything was blurry, the three women blending into one.
“What the—” She shook her head.
Yup. There was only one woman and the children were gone. The remaining woman lent an age-spotted hand to steady Jillian.
“Where did the others go?” Jillian asked.
“Others? Dinnae ken of what you speak. I am the only one here.”
“But—”
“My sisters are busy elsewhere.” The woman’s emerald eyes sparkled. Eyes that somehow seemed familiar.
Couldn’t be. Jillian inhaled a deep, steadying breath. Were they playing games with her?
“Come. A soak in the pool will put things to rights.”
The woman led Jillian through the same tunnel the man had taken, past several off-shoots, torches set in metal holders embedded in the walls lit the way. The air became warmer and moist and the sound of running water louder as they walked. Finally, the shaft opened to another chamber.
Wow! A powerful waterfall plunged from a hole in the stone ceiling at least seventy-five feet above their heads. Sunlight glistened on wet walls and where the water cascaded into a subterranean pool that took up most of the chamber.
“Bathe. ’Twill heal your hands.”
Jillian drew back. “Are you crazy? The water must be freezing.”
“Nae. Hot water bubbles from the earth and the cold water from the waterfall makes the pool perfect for bathing and healing what ails you. ’Tis fae magic.”
Jillian’s hands stung like hell and the pool was inviting. What would it hurt to soak for a bit? Perhaps daydream about the hot blond man.
She squatted near the edge and stuck a couple fingers into the water—perfect temperature. “Okay.” She turned to face the woman, but the woman had gone.
Somewhat unsettled, Jillian glanced around. Although light came in from the hole in the ceiling, shadows played over most of the cave. Where the illumination was strongest, toweling and a small jar with an ornate bronze lid sat on a niche in the wall. She opened the lid, brought the jar to her nose and sniffed. Heather blossoms. Must be soap.
She wasn’t making any headway in getting unlost, yet perhaps she could spare a few minutes for a relaxing soak. She dropped her pack on the floor and kicked off her bike shoes. Careful of her sore hands, she slid the fleece leggings over her hips and stepped out of them. Then extending her arms toward the ceiling in a needed stretch, slowly arched her back, and cracked her spine while tugging off the fleece pullover. Dressed in bike shorts and a t-shirt, she glanced at the water. She didn’t want to get her shorts and top wet so she stripped to her bikini briefs and sports bra and folded her clothing on the pack. Making quick work of braiding her hair, she used an elastic from around her wrist to secure it then stepped into the water. Nice.
She carefully walked deeper into the pool, dragging bloodied hands through the water. The stinging eased. Sand squished between her toes. The pool deepened then became shallower as she walked toward the far wall, covered in green moss and small plants. Finding a ledge, she sat. Water rose over her breasts. Ahh! Heaven. With the warm water and gentle mist from the waterfall soothing her nerves, she leaned back and relaxed.
She must have dozed. Something jolted her awake. She sensed she wasn’t alone. A short distance away, water spilled over the edge of the pool and trickled into a stream that ran under a stalactite curtain wall. No one seemed to be there. She held still, sure someone was in the cave with her.
“Who’s there?”
Stephen held his breath, not moving a muscle. How could he make his presence known without spooking the lass?
After the shock of seeing her in the chamber where he slept, he’d rudely exposed his ugliness. Guilt tearing at him, he hurried as best he could on his crutch to the falls. He’d hobbled deep into the pool, taking a seat in the shadows, allowing the warm water to wash over his stiff shoulders. The muscle aches and ever-gnawing pain in his leg lessened.
Time suspended, though he didn’t sleep. With a warrior’s alertness, he sensed the moment she entered the chamber. Why would he feel such a connection to this woman from the future? Like Lady Laurie, that’s who she must be.
“I know you’re there. Show yourself.” Her voice trembled.
Loath to cause more distress, he slowly leaned forward, out of the shadows, not far from where she sat. “I am here.”
She jerked her gaze to him, eyes wide.
“I did not wish to disturb you.”
> “You saw me undress,” she accused, her sweet lips curving into a comely scowl.
He held the urge to smile at bay. He’d enjoyed the show immensely, especially the teasing stretch exposing the curve of her back, as the erection he sported proved. The silky garments she wore over her breasts and mound left little to the imagination. Her shapely hips lovely. Her skin ivory perfection. The need to touch her almost more than he could endure.
He cleared his throat, hoping she wouldn’t hear the lust in his voice. “I am sorry. I should have made my presence known, but I did not want you to run off before the fae waters healed your hands.”
“I’m not afraid of you.”
“You should not be.”
“Well, I’m not.”
“Good.”
The silence became awkward. Stephen groped for something to say. “You said your name is Jillian?”
“Yes.”
“Mine is Stephen. Stephen MacEwen.”
She smiled. More silence.
Of a sudden, Jillian jerked her feet up onto the shelf where she sat. Wrapping arms tightly around her legs, she stared into the water with a frown.
“What is wrong?” Stephen asked, sliding closer.
“Something brushed over my feet. Are their snakes in the water?”
Her horrified expression made him chuckle. “Nae. Just wee toothless fish.”
“Oh. Like the garra rufa that nibble away dead skin from your feet when you get a fish pedicure at one of the fancy spas in Asheville.”
“I dinnae ken about that, but the fish in this pool will not hurt you.”
She dropped her feet deeper into the water and smiled. “Tickles.”
Just Wait For Me (Highland Gardens Book 3) Page 3