It would be too late to pledge his love to Jillian, she’d already have returned to the future, but at least he would be free of Calyn. And, perhaps, he could try yet again to pass through the faerie knoll to Jillian’s future.
“Stephen?” Her hand softly brushing his cheek startled him out of the grim reverie.
“Aye?”
“Munn has gone. We can…”
Stephen grabbed his crutch and hauled himself up. “I need to soak my leg.”
He wasn’t worthy of Jillian’s touch. ’Twas wrong to dally with her. He would see her safely to the Sithichean Sluaigh and naught more. Then return to Dunadd and make inquiries about the events of that ill-fated night.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Stephen leaned back against a smooth section of stone wishing to soak away the chaos in his mind. The warm water and gentle mist did little to ease his troubled heart. Jillian lured him like moth to flame. When she kissed him—
Deep grumbling heralded Munn’s entrance into the waterfall chamber. “Ach, the stench of the lost bairns lingers. So they guided the lass here? Dinnae trust them.”
“Aye, they ran off with her belongings. Things that will cause trouble if discovered by the wrong someone, if you ken my meaning.”
“Nary a soul will find the things. The bairns hide their horde well. In a hollow tree surrounded by a dense thicket. Concealed by fae magic.”
“Munn, you ken the bairns are not truly changelings. They possess nae magic.”
“Each are gifted. Protected by the fae.”
Stephen sighed. “There are other problems. I dinnae wish to stay overlong in these caves. Maclay once used them as a hideout. Who kens if the reprobate might return? In my debilitated state, I would be hard-pressed to protect the lass.”
“Maclay hates our clan.”
“Aye, he does. If he learns we are here and vulnerable, he might try to get even with Patrick and Clan MacLachlan by hurting Jillian.”
“Or you.”
Stephen wasn’t worried about himself. He didn’t have much to live for beyond seeing Jillian safely to the Sithichean Sluaigh. His future with Calyn unfurled before him like a living hell.
He stretched his bad leg. It improved with each soak in the pool. “If only we had horses. We could ride to Castle Lachlan and Jillian could return to her own time before something perilous happens to her.”
Munn stared at the ground and scraped his foot back and forth.
“Can you get horses, Munn?”
The brownie’s gaze jerked up. “Mayhap. Will cost dearly.”
“I dinnae care what must be sacrificed. I will see Jillian safely home.”
The wee man spun in a circle then vanished amid a litany of fading grumbles.
Stephen shook his head. “Damned brownie.”
* * *
Caitrina reclined amid amber grass, relishing the noontime sun. ’Twas late in the season yet a smattering of heather remained in bloom, perfuming the air. She loved the Highlands in late September.
This was not a day for frowns, but her lips curved into a fierce one. Damn that meddling brownie. His plea for an audience skittered over her skin like a mass of recently hatched spiders. How had he gotten free from the Sands of Time?
She vanished from mortal sight and traveled with haste from the hillside on an anger-induced wind, landing on the plush green grass of the Sithichean Sluaigh in the Fir-wood not far from Castle Lachlan, the home of Archibald, known to family and friends as Archie, Chief of Clan MacLachlan. Caitrina retained the cloak of invisibility, waiting.
Munn spun onto the faerie knoll, grumbling as usual. “Where is that infuriating sithiche? Appear now!”
Caitrina shimmered into corporal form, hands arched on hips, fire sparking at her fingertips. “Why are you here?”
“Need horses.”
“Not where you are going.” She waved her arms, working the transference spell. Naught happened. Munn remained on the knoll, feet planted apart. “Grrr! Why are you still here? How is this possible?”
He rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet and smiled smug-like. “Ha! That’s where being arrogant gets you. Nowhere.”
Her eyes widened. Blood thundered in her ears. “How dare you!”
“You look lovely today, Caitrina.” Munn grinned. “I need three fae horses.”
“You presume to make demands.” She waved her arms again, concentrating her power into the spell. Naught happened. “Why do you remain?”
“I have powerful protection so dinnae think to do anything else to me. If you want to win the challenge, provide the horses.”
Who dares shield him? Oonagh? Sparks shot from Caitrina’s fingertips, setting a patch of grass afire. Within seconds the flames petered out and, as if they watched a time-lapse film, lush green grass replaced the scorched earth. A fresh, earthy scent replaced the acrid smell fouling the air. She gnashed her teeth. “Who protects you?”
The brownie fisted his hands at his sides, leaning forward. “Give me fae horses.”
“Why should I?”
“Stephen wants to bring the lass from the future here to the knoll, so she can return to her time.”
“And how will that help me win the challenge?” Caitrina demanded.
“They will fall in love while traveling here. Stephen is already randy.” Munn grinned and uncurled his hands.
“Is he?”
“Aye. And the lass is receptive.” The wee man nodded like an idiot.
“More reason for them to stay at the caves. The chambers and pools are conducive to my objective.” She flicked a dismissive hand.
“Trust me. The prince made me vow to help you.”
“Prince?” Caitrina stiffened. Certainly not her father. “Who?”
“Aye. Dugaid.”
“You made a pledge to the Dark Prince? Are you mad?” A shiver of acute interest meandered down her spine. Was the prince as handsome as rumors boast? ’Twas hard to believe the infamous Dugaid, one of the acclaimed unicorn brotherhood, would lower his exalted self to converse with a wee brownie, never mind request said brownie’s help. The stakes must be high.
They were for her, of course. But why the prince?
“Nae choice,” Munn said. “He is verra persuasive.”
“And he’s the queen’s son.”
“There is that.”
“You dinnae believe the prince is on my side, do you?”
“Well, aye. Prince Dugaid wants you to win. He said so. Promised there would be nae interference from the queen.”
“You wee fool.” She shook her head. “You believed him?”
“Aye.” Munn pursed his lips.
“Since Oonagh vowed not to interfere, she must have drafted her son to thwart me.” But why? Caitrina paced in a circle then threw up her arms. “Dinnae try to help, Munn. You will just make a muddle of things.”
“Want to help,” he said. “Give me the horses.”
“Nae!” Weary of the conversation, Caitrina flashed into the vanishing. Why had Prince Dugaid taken an interest in the outcome of the queen’s challenge?
Both intrigued and apprehensive, Caitrina rode the wind in a whirl to a private mossy glen, needing to contemplate the significance of such an important development. Crossing swords with the Dark Prince could be exhilarating. Heat flashed her chest, anticipation coiling in her gut.
Or, could bring about her demise.
* * *
Jillian shivered under the covers. Frustration along with the cold making her miserable. Why had Stephen hurried off after the little man appeared and then disappeared? Perhaps she shouldn’t have been so forward as to kiss him. Maybe should have played harder to get. Cripes. Her come-on had been poorly timed and reckless. Though he’d been more than receptive of the kiss, and she almost found release in what came after.
Some men disliked aggressive woman. Before Finn married, he’d reinforced that truth each time he ignored her advances only to take up with pretty debutants from New York City—si
mpering fools—with D-cups. That wasn’t totally fair. His wife, Elspeth, was beautiful, and no one’s fool.
Jillian cringed. She’d been so jealous of Finn and Elspeth’s relationship. Until she met Stephen.
Stephen didn’t appear the type to shy away from a woman’s advances. From the gleam in his eye, the reverence of his touch, and the semi-erection that seemed permanent, she didn’t doubt his desire. So why did he hobble off?
Had she repulsed him too?
A scuffing sound nettled Jillian’s already strung out nerves. She wrenched the covers higher as if they’d protect her. “Who’s there?”
After an uncertain moment, Duff slipped from the shadows. “We dinnae want to sleep in the trees tonight. ’Tis too cold.”
“We?”
Keita poked her head out from behind the boy, sad eyes imploring. “Can we sleep with you? Please.”
Jillian’s heart melted, but these were the same kids who stole her stuff. “What did you do with my clothes and pack?”
“Naught,” they said in unison vehemently shaking their heads.
“We did not filch anything,” Duff said.
“Who did?”
“The others,” Keita chimed in.
“Can you get my things back for me?”
More of the head shaking. Jillian let out a heavy sigh. What was she to do? Well, it didn’t seem as if Stephen would return to keep her warm. She lifted the blankets and the children burrowed under the covers beside her.
“We like you,” Keita said.
“You do?” Jillian smiled.
“Aye. You dinnae stare like other folk.”
Jillian felt a twinge near her heart again. This poor child must be scorned for her disfigurement. All of the children had some sort of deformity. Except Duff. Other than having a long nose, he looked like a normal kid.
Keita and Duff wiggled restlessly.
“Perhaps a story will help us fall asleep.” Jillian sat up and Keita crawled onto her lap. “Once upon a time there was a baker who wanted to seem more important in the eyes of the king so he claimed his beautiful fair-haired daughter could spin gold from straw—”
“Could she?” Keita asked.
“Well, let’s see how the story goes.” Jillian brushed fingers over the little girl’s blonde hair. “The king’s man escorted the maiden to a chamber high in the castle tower containing straw and a spinning wheel. She was left with the threat that if she could not do as her father bragged, she would be condemned to life in the deepest, darkest dungeon.”
“That is a terrible punishment since it was the father who told the lie,” Duff said.
“How do you ken ’tis a falsehood?” Keita demanded.
“’Cause no one can spin gold from straw except, mayhap, one of the Fae.”
“Is that true?” Keita bunched a handful of Jillian’s dress in her small fist.
“Let’s hear the rest of the story, shall we?” Jillian tapped the tip of a pert nose, and the little girl smiled, gaze alight with interest. With a wistful breath, Jillian proceeded with the tale. “Tears spilled from the maiden’s eyes for she was unable to spin straw into gold. But a short wrinkled man residing in a neglected part of the castle heard the sobbing and snuck into the chamber unnoticed by the other castle inhabitants. How will you reward me if I spin this straw into gold before the night is through, he asked. The maiden offered the bronze brooch securing her shawl, though she would miss it dearly for it had belonged to her deceased mother.”
“Was the wee wrinkled man Munn?” Keita asked.
“He cannot spin gold. He’s just a wee brownie,” Duff said with an indignant huff.
“Shall I proceed?” Jillian asked.
“Please,” the children answered in unison.
“In the morning when the king came to the chamber, the man was gone and a pile of gold coins sat on the floor next to the spinning wheel.”
Keita gasped then made raspberries at Duff, who stuck his tongue out in return.
“The king was a tad on the greedy side so he ordered his steward to take the maiden to a larger chamber where there was twice as much straw and a spinning wheel,” Jillian continued. “When left alone, the maiden cried because she couldn’t spin straw into gold. The little man appeared, again, and she offered him the bone bracelet from her wrist if he would spend the night spinning.”
“Sounds like a lot of work,” Duff groused.
Jillian chuckled. “The king was so pleased to find the gold in the morning he escorted the woman to a third, much larger, chamber filled with straw and a spinning wheel. He told her if she spun the straw into gold during the night, he would make her queen and she would never need spin again. She waited and waited but the little man didn’t make an appearance.”
“He has to help her,” Keita shrieked.
“Finally, as she wept with despair, he appeared in the chamber and asked what she would give this night for his service. She had nothing else to offer. I will take your firstborn son as payment, he said, and he spent the night spinning.”
A shadow blocked the dim light coming from the tunnel entrance. Jillian glanced up. Stephen had returned.
Stephen halted in the entranceway, listening to Jillian’s sweet voice spinning magic for the bairns. He rubbed his chest. Damn. How, in such a short time, had she found a vulnerability within his heart?
“What is this tale you tell the children?”
“It’s a Grimms’ faerie tale I often read to Patrick and Laurie’s daughter at bedtime when I babysit.”
“Please, continue.” He leaned against the rough stone wall with crossed arms.
“Aye.” Keita begged. “What happens next?”
“The king kept his promise and married the maiden, making her queen. She enjoyed her life in the castle, especially walks in the garden. When their son was born, joy filled her heart. She had forgotten the promise to the gold-spinner. But the man came to collect the child without delay, demanding payment. The queen couldn’t bear to give up her child so offered the man riches beyond the imagination. The wretched man scoffed, having no desire nor need for wealth. He wanted the boy for his own.”
Duff snorted, and Stephen laughed.
“After much debate, the man finally agreed to forsake his claim to the child if, and only if, the queen guessed his real name before the full moon three nights hence. For two days the queen’s attempts failed. At dusk on the last day, she secretly followed the man into the forest to a grassy hill—”
“’Twas probably a faerie knoll,” Duff said.
“Where he danced in a circle.” Jillian ignored the boy’s remark. “Then he chanted a name three times before vanishing from sight. Moments before the full moon, he came to the queen at the castle, ready to collect the child. The queen shouted the name she’d overheard in the forest—Rumpelstiltskin.”
“Then what happened?” Keita asked in a breathy voice.
“The man was so angry his face flamed red, he spun in a circle and disappeared, never to be heard from again.”
“Are you sure the tale is not about Munn?” Duff asked. “’Tis just like something he would do.”
Stephen ruffled the lad’s hair. “Enough. ’Tis time everyone is abed.”
He joined them on the large pallet. After a short time, he was the only one awake. Jillian cradled Keita in her arms, and he had an arm around the sleeping Duff.
He felt content for the first time in he couldn’t remember how long. If only he hadn’t agreed to the handfasting, he’d be begging Jillian to be his forever love.
I need to find a way to end things with Calyn. He prayed she wasn’t with child.
CHAPTER NINE
Munn stood on the mound in the Fir-wood, hands fisted on hips, staring at the spot Caitrina had vacated. Infuriating sithiche! He stomped a foot. Caitrina was too proud to accept his help. He should forget this whole affair and find a nice spot for a nap.
Munn slumped. His vow to the Dark Prince sat heavy on his shoulders. What was
he to do?
He paced and thought and paced some more. How was he to aid Caitrina when she didn’t want his help? He should forget the faerie princess and concentrate his efforts on assisting Stephen and the lass from the future. By so doing, Caitirina would win the challenge, and he’d fulfill his vow to the prince.
But where could he secure the mounts Stephen requested? Munn scratched his head. Where? Ah! Archibald would provide horses. The chief would want to help Stephen.
Munn spun in a circle. As he faded, he heard the sniggers of the lost bairns. He should stop and investigate what sort of mischief they stirred this day. Instead, he traveled through the nether to the stables at Castle Lachlan landing with a grumph on the muck-covered floor of Archibald’s favorite warhorse’s stall. He rolled to a sitting position and sniffed the shoulder of his leine. The reek of dung burned his nostrils. Crap!
Archibald laughed, but it was a hollow sound. “Ach, wee man. ’Tis good to see you.”
His features sobered and he extended a hand, helping Munn to his feet. Munn stared into the chief’s gray eyes. Eyes that glistened with grief.
Munn fretted. He hated for the chief to be distressed.
“We heard the word from Branxton.” Archibald shook his head, slammed a fist against a thigh. “Such a waste. The loss of so many fine warriors. Most of our lads are dead. God keep them.” He made the Sign of the Cross. “I will feel their death in my heart for the rest of my living days.”
Archibald sucked in an audible breath. What could Munn say to lessen the chief’s sorrow?
“Duncan is devastated by the loss of Jamie,” the chief continued, a hitch in his voice. “And Stephen…”
Munn bounced on his feet unable to contain his delight in the news he would share. He would make the chief smile again. “Stephen lives!”
Archibald swayed. Leaned on the stall’s half-wall. “How? Where?”
“Wounded. Caves of the Gray Women.”
Tempered relief replaced some of the pain clouding the chief’s eyes. “How bad are his injuries?” He cleared his throat. “How did he get there?”
Just Wait For Me (Highland Gardens Book 3) Page 6