Just Wait For Me (Highland Gardens Book 3)

by Dawn Marie Hamilton

  Duff rolled his eyes.

  “Well, that is what the man said.”

  Jillian ignored them and rummaged through the pile. There were woolen undergarments, wool-lined boots and gloves, and a high-necked velvet gown. The deep green gown was of the finest quality and perfect for Jillian, as was the matching hooded, wool cloak lined with red fox. Expensive garments indeed.

  She caught his eye and raised a questioning brow.

  He rubbed his chin. “Duff, who gave you these things?”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Dugaid stared at the compromised hidey-hole, a snarl curling his lip. How dare his mother remove her protection from the lost bairns? Oonagh was a beautiful woman, sought after by many a man, both fae and mortal, but she lacked even an iota of motherly tendencies. Had the Fae Queen put the bairns in harm’s way?

  His pointed ears perked at a commotion deeper in the wood. A lad cried out as if in pain. Cloaked in the glamour of invisibility, Dugaid followed the scuffling sounds.

  Two of the woodland bairns huddled together on the ground, faces battered and bruised. Dugaid fisted his hands. No one had the right to hurt children.

  An explosive outburst of nature heralded his anger to the world. Lightning sliced the darkening sky. Thunder reverberated over mountains, hills, and glens. Hail pounded the earth. The pungent smell of ozone sharpened the air, making his nostrils flare.

  Maclay’s gaze shot to the ominous sky, and the man frowned. Returning attention to the third bairn, the one he held by the shoulders, he shook the battered lad. “Tell me!”

  When the bairn didn’t answer, Maclay knuckle-slapped him hard across the face.

  The lad cried out. Blood spewed from a broken nose.

  Red also wept through a rag wrapped around Maclay’s wrist, but didn’t hinder the man from inflicting pain on those weaker. “Tell me what you ken of the lass traveling with MacEwen, unless you wish for more of a thrashing.”

  “Nae. Dinnae hurt me anymore,” the lad pleaded. “She is from the future. ’Tis all I ken.”

  Maclay thrust the lad away, grabbed the backpack from the ground, and strode away from the whimpering bairns. Dugaid’s rage boiled. The storm intensified. One especially jagged streak of vertical lightning pierced the ground at Maclay’s feet.

  The villain leapt back, tossing weight from leg to leg, attempting to find balance as the ground rolled and splintered around him. Spider cracks spread from long narrow slits. Trees and rocks tumbled into deep crevasses. The backpack Jillian had brought through the time gate slipped from Maclay’s nerveless fingers. It tumbled into a fissure, got caught by the strap on a branch, and dangled just within reach.

  He dove to retrieve it, but the earth pitched with a violent shudder. The pack dropped into the hole while the vibration joggled Maclay precariously close to the edge. He crabbed backward scarcely in time. One more quake closed the opening.

  In a flash, Dugaid placed a vanishing blanket over the bairns, making them invisible.

  Maclay stood, paced in a small circle, and punched a fist in the air. “Where are those cursed changelings?”

  Unable to release his frustration on the bairns, the nasty devil strode away from the scene of destruction, muttering obscenities. Dugaid hated allowing the man to leave, but there were certain covenants to which he must adhere. As much as he so desired, he mustn’t kill a human.

  Dugaid waited until the man had traveled a great distance before uncloaking himself and the lads. “Can you all walk?”

  “Aye.” The lad with the mismatched eyes helped the older, pudgy fellow, who’d taken the worst beating, rise to his feet.

  “Hie tail to the Caves of the Gray Women and use the pool to heal your injuries.”

  “Many thanks for coming to our aid,” said the lad with a head too large for his child-sized body.

  “You are verra welcome. Now run along and forget you saw me.” Dugaid watched them leave, chanting a spell of protection to keep them safe.

  Then he, too, vanished, traveling through the nether in search of Caitrina. She would never win the challenge if she didn’t keep her mind on the task at hand. He was more than ready to give her a lengthy scolding.

  * * *

  Outside the smaller caves where Stephen, Jillian, and the children had taken refuge, fingers of fog wove through the trees. Jillian swirled the wool cloak over her shoulders and secured it at the throat with a large emerald brooch found in one of the deep pockets. Someone had seen to her every fashion need.

  “You look like a queen,” Stephen said.

  She felt beautiful for the first time in her life, but thought it had more to do with the time spent with Stephen than anything else. Dressed in the layers of fancy clothing given to the children by a mysterious dark-haired man, Jillian brushed a palm over the growth of beard covering Stephen’s face. “Thank you. You’re sweet.”

  His smile made her insides go liquid. She stood on tiptoe, placed a kiss on his velvety lips, and sighed. What a marvelous two days they’d spent in the caves.

  The children raced around them, restless for more adventure.

  “Must we leave?” After making love with Stephen, Jillian wasn’t so sure she wanted to return to the future. “Perhaps…”

  “We must and since the weather has turned cold, we will need to take shelter instead of sleeping in the greenwood.” Stephen stepped away. “We are about a day’s ride from Dunoon Castle, a royal stronghold under Campbell control as the hereditary keepers. One of their ilk, still friendly to the MacLachlans even after the debacle over Elspeth’s handfasting to Finn MacIntyre, is in residence there and surely will allow us safe haven for a night. Actually, Sir Robert is Elspeth’s grandfather.”

  Jillian’s thoughts flashed to Elspeth and Finn. She’d been so jealous of Patrick’s younger sister when the woman arrived in Anderson Creek with Finn and they announced their upcoming wedding. At the time, Jillian fancied herself in love with Finn. Now, she knew it had only been infatuation. She wouldn’t be developing such strong feelings for Stephen had she truly loved Finn.

  Melancholy swept over her. She’d never see Stephen again after she returned to the future. Did she really want to go after falling in love with him? She couldn’t seem to drum up the nerve to tell him of her feelings, fearing he didn’t share the same deep affection. If she managed to tell him she loved him, might she convince him to travel through the time gate with her? He claimed to have tried passing through but failed. Perhaps that nasty man Maclay had inadvertently come up with the trick of it. Might she be the key? Maybe if Stephen were with her when she attempted to return home, they’d both travel through to the future.

  He seemed to like her. Maybe even love her. She needed to get over her sense of inadequacy and trust in her instincts.

  Yet there was a chance all these mental gymnastics were a waste of time. Who knew if either of them would be able to travel through the gate?

  “Jillian?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I zoned for a moment. What were you saying?”

  He creased his brow and pursed his lips.

  “Oops. Future talk.”

  “You will need to be careful what you say in front of others while we are at Dunoon. We dinnae want to draw unwanted interest.”

  “How will we explain my sudden appearance in Scotland?”

  “I will introduce you as Lady Jillian O'Donnell of Ireland. You were visiting with Patrick and Lady Laurie in France and they suggested a visit to Castle Lachlan before returning home to Ireland. Your guards took ill on the crossing and when we met by chance, I suggested my escort.”

  “My hero. You really know how to spin a story.”

  Stephen blushed. He looked so darn cute, she wanted to kiss him again, but then she’d drag him back to bed and there was no time for that.

  “Dinnae look at me that way.” The desire reflected in his eyes turned her to mush. He grasped her elbow. “Shall we be on our way, my lady?”

  She giggled then tried to recover digni
ty by inclining her head in a queenly fashion.

  As they walked to the horses, she brushed fingertips over the velvet gown. “I feel as if I’m going to a swanky New York hotel’s masquerade ball. All I need is a bejeweled mask.”

  He raised a brow.

  “I know. No more future talk.”

  They helped both children onto Duff’s horse, then Stephen assisted her onto the roan, careful of her fine gown. He mounted his stallion and sidled alongside.

  “We will stay to the main trail to make better time.”

  She raised the hood of the cloak over her head and followed him, the children trailing behind. They rode for about an hour when the sound of galloping horses carried to them on the moist air.

  Stephen signaled a halt. “Into the wood. Hurry!”

  Jillian’s stomach clenched as they guided the three horses off the trail and walked them deep into the trees. She prayed the approaching riders didn’t notice hoof prints in the dirt, or broken branches from their passing.

  Stephen held a finger to his lips for quiet. She turned to check on the children, but they had melded with the forest, becoming invisible. They had an amazing knack for going into hiding. The thought of what brutality had taught them such wariness tore at her heart.

  The thunder of hooves pounding the ground grew louder. The riders were getting closer. Jillian held her breath. The moment of fear stretched into infinity, panic ratcheting up her heartbeat.

  The riders stopped at the spot where they’d entered the woods. Cripes. Her worst fear come true. Her horse skittered to the side, tossed its head, tugging against the reins Jillian clutched in a tight fist. She rubbed the mare’s neck with trembling fingers, trying to calm the animal, hush it to silence.

  Branches snapped. Someone must have entered the woods in search of them. Her wide-eyed gaze jerked to Stephen.

  “Come.” His sharp whisper set her into motion and she followed him deeper into the trees, farther away from the main trail.

  They’d only gone a hundred yards or so when a rider appeared directly in front of them like an impenetrable wall. The very large, ginger-haired man wore a huge grin.

  Jillian squeaked.

  Stephen grabbed the reins from her hand before she bolted to the left. “’Tis a friend.”

  “And mighty glad to have found you,” the man said.

  Friend. Jillian felt flushed with relief.

  “Do you ride with the others, Duncan?”

  “Aye. We have been searching for you for days. Brought you horses. From the look of things, you are not in need of the beasts.” The man’s curious gaze swept over her. His cheeks reddened before he looked away to Stephen. “Your mounts are mighty fine.”

  Stephen whistled three high notes. Within a few moments, Duff and Keita rode into sight.

  The man Stephen addressed as Duncan raised several fingers to his mouth and let go a warble of a birdcall. A series of similar notes came from the direction of the main trail they had left. Not quite a cell phone or walkie-talkie, but it seemed to work for them. They made way through the trees to where a group of men draped in woodland-hued plaids waited. Relieved smiles greeted them as they emerged, easing the tension knotting Jillian’s stomach. There were about fifteen men plus the annoying little man they called Munn. The one who’d stolen her space blanket what seemed like an eternity ago.

  Déjà vu made Jillian shiver. The man striding toward them looked exactly like Patrick, her partner Laurie’s husband; Jillian did a double take. Although this man’s eyes were more gray than blue. Still, must be Patrick’s twin, Archibald, current chief of Clan MacLachlan.

  Stephen slid from his horse, and the two men grasped forearms. The man dragged Stephen into a masculine hug. Then the bear of a man who’d found them leapt from his horse and embraced Stephen. A lot of backslapping came next, along with manly grunts.

  Stephen broke away and helped her dismount. He stood at her side, arm wrapped around her back, hand resting on a velvet-covered hip. She could feel his heat through the layers of fabric. It almost seemed as if he communicated possession. Her face flushed with the intensity of the other men’s knowing stares.

  Archibald’s eyes narrowed, and he frowned. “Is that the way of it?”

  Stephen stiffened then gave an abrupt nod.

  “A fine mess.” Archibald paced away from the others.

  Stephen winked at her before following the other man. Mess. Why? Did he think poorly of her? Quiet words passed between them. Archibald looked in her direction a couple of times while the two men continued to speak in hushed tones. It appeared Stephen was doing a lot of explaining. At one point, he dragged a palm over his face. Then Archibald slapped a fist against his thigh, and Jillian thought she heard the name Maclay growled.

  Several more minutes passed before they returned to the group.

  Archibald approached her and bowed. “Excuse my lack of manners, my lady. I understand you are, Lady Jillian O'Donnell from Ireland, a friend of my twin brother and his lady-wife.”

  She nodded, unsure how else to respond. For the first time, Jillian really felt lost in a world not her own. As if sensing her unease, Stephen stepped to her side, lending moral support.

  “Stephen tells me you have had quite a trial of it. You are welcome to spend as long as you wish at Castle Lachlan. My sweet lady-wife, Isobell, will be delighted to make your acquaintance and hear news of our niece and nephews. Unfortunately, I must bid you farewell as my men and I pursue the fugitive Maclay.”

  He abruptly turned, signaled to his men with a raised hand, and they all mounted with exception of four. Munn, the ginger bear, and two others remained.

  “They will provide added security for the remainder of the journey to Castle Lachlan,” Stephen answered her questioning glance before lifting her onto the roan horse.

  With an uneasy frown, Stephen mounted his horse, as did the other men. Archibald had voiced displeasure with the turn of events. The chief didn’t want trouble with Calyn’s kin.

  Stephen didn’t either, but he couldn’t give up Jillian. Not after she risked all to save his life. Not after finding love in her arms. Such love too precious to throw away. Life too precarious. He would figure out a way to convince Calyn to release him from the commitment.

  Munn whirled in a circle and disappeared without comment. Unusual for the wee man not to voice an opinion. Just as well. Stephen didn’t want to hear a litany of his failings.

  The two MacLachlan guards rode to the front. Stephen signaled for Jillian and the children to follow, and he fell back to ride at Duncan’s side. The big man brooded but held his own counsel, which gave Stephen ample time to brood himself, to remember the misery of the battlefield and recall Jamie’s death.

  Finally, he felt the need to break the silence. “I have much sorrow for your loss.”

  Duncan’s watery gaze snapped to him. Grief lined the man’s features. “Ach, well, you look fit and hearty.”

  Stephen stiffened, but understood the man’s rage. Duncan had lost his twin while Stephen lived. Sometimes the same anger plagued him—the injustice.

  “He fought valiantly for Scotland and king. The end came quickly. He dinnae suffer long.” Little consolation for Duncan’s loss.

  The big man gave a curt nod, and they continued along in silence. After a time, his speculative gaze fell on Jillian and lingered. Stephen couldn’t blame the man his interest, but still—

  Duncan jerked a glance his way. “How did you come to be here with her?”

  Stephen shrugged. “Dinnae ken the all of it. I was badly injured.”

  The man’s brows scrunched tight, forehead wrinkled, lips curled downward. His reluctance to believe was understandable. Stephen could hardly believe all that occurred since the battle.

  “I was saying my final prayers when darkness stole over me. I woke in the Caves of the Gray Women with cuts and bruises and a worthless crushed leg. Dinnae ken how Munn got me there to safety, but am thankful for his resourcefulness.” He ran
fingers through his overlong hair. “Spent several days soaking in the fae pool, healing and regaining strength. Then the lass arrived and…”

  Surprise transformed the big man’s face, and he visibly shivered. Poor Duncan had spent several days a few years back in the caves being tortured by Maclay’s band of renegades.

  “You ken she is like Lady Laurie, aye?” Duncan’s gaze jumped to Jillian and back to Stephen.

  “Aye.” That knowledge was the gist of the problem. Handfasted to a woman he disliked and in love with a woman from the future. A woman he shouldn’t want, but needed for his heart and soul to mend.

  Duncan snorted. “She will take you on a wild romp as Lady Laurie did with Patrick. Do you plan to go to the future too?”

  Stephen cut off the intended retort. Jillian and the children had slowed and were within hearing.

  “The children and I need a respite,” Jillian said, as he and Duncan approached.

  “A wild romp,” Duncan repeated in a whisper as they halted, the man’s wolfish chuckle raising Jillian’s brows.

  Stephen shrugged, masking his features, then whistled for the forward guards to return to them. They dismounted and Jillian and Keita headed for some privacy in a nearby grove of trees.

  A chill breeze blew across the moor, a beckoning of colder weather to come.

  They didn’t remain in the unprotected spot for long. Huddled in their outer garments, they set a faster pace. Several hours later, a cold wind buffeted them as they galloped along the Firth of Clyde, closing in on their destination, the stronghold seated on a hillside position with its three circular towers in a triangular formation—Dunoon Castle.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Near gloaming, with long shadows trailing, the small party of weary travelers passed through the castle gate without challenge. Muscles clenched, Stephen remained wary. A sentry posted in one of the towers must have reported their approach for Sir Robert Campbell and his personal guard awaited them on the stair to the keep. The sound of hooves against stone grated the edge of Stephen’s already fraught nerves as his party crossed the courtyard to meet with the keeper of the castle.