Overpowering lust hit him like a gut punch.
“Why do you wear a mask?” Caitrina asked. “Are you horribly deformed?”
“Heed my warning, Caitrina!”
Dugaid faded into the vanishing before giving into a primal desire and acting out his favorite fantasy with Caitrina bound to the bed by faerie-spelled, silken scarves. One day soon, he’d make her beg for his touch.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Castle Dunoon
Jillian woke to chattering teeth. Hers. The room was frickin’ freezing. Even with all the covers and the child burrowed against her side, Jillian shivered. She missed Stephen’s warmth.
The barest amount of weak light filtered through the shutters. Must be near dawn. She hated to get up, but someone needed to tend the fire or they’d freeze to death.
She padded across the cold stone floor, hopping from bare foot to bare foot. Cold drilled up her spine. A few embers still glowed. She added tinder and kindling. After the tinder flashed and the kindling lit, she added a piece of chopped hardwood from a stack near the hearth. She tugged on wool stockings and boots, twirled a length of tartan over her shoulders, then made a dreaded trip to the privy.
When she returned, Keita stood on the window seat, shutters flung wide, staring out. The little girl turned and, after rubbing sleep from her eyes, smiled brightly. “’Tis snowing.”
Jillian rushed over to look. Sure enough. Heavy snow fell. From the amount of accumulation on the ground, it appeared as if it had been coming down for a better part of the night. Cripes. There was little chance they’d travel on to Castle Lachlan and the faerie knoll during a snowstorm. More time lost.
A soft tapping on the door interrupted her perturbed thoughts. She opened the oak panel to find the maid who’d escorted her yesterday, carrying a tray. “I have brought something for you and the bairn to break yer fasts. A party of travelers arrived shortly before dawn with a large contingent of fighting men. Sir Robert requests ye spend the morning in yer chamber until everyone is settled.”
Jillian nodded, and the maid left the tray.
After donning her gown and eating, she paced, bored to tears and getting more agitated by the moment. Just where was Stephen?
An hour or so later, the door pushed open, and Duff lurched into the room carrying a flat wooden box, the lid checkered like a chessboard.
“Sir Robert gave me draughts. He said ’twould keep us out of trouble.” Duff placed the box on the table between the two chairs and opened the lid. The gold and black pieces stored inside looked somewhat like checkers. “Do you ken how to play?”
“Sort of. I know the basics.”
“The board and pieces came all the way from the Continent,” the boy enthused. “Sir Robert said Alexander Campbell brought it back when he traveled to France on em-embassage for the king. The one that died in the battle. The battle Stephen fought in.”
Keita perked up. “I want to play.”
“You are too wee.”
“Am not!”
“Are too.”
“How about we play girls against Duff?” Jillian jumped in before the argument could escalate. Keita smiled and nodded.
“All right,” Duff agreed rather belligerently and dropped into a chair.
“Which color do you want?” Jillian hid a smile and sat across from him.
“Black, like the black leather the man wore who gave us your garments.”
Jillian started to place the gold pieces on the red squares in front of her. Duff didn’t seem to know what to do with his pieces so she laid them out on his side.
“Now what?” Duff asked.
“Well, the objective of the game is for you to try to capture all of my game pieces, or for me to capture all of yours, or for one of us to force the other into a position where we are unable to move.”
“What about me?” Keita asked, bottom lip pushed forward in a crooked pout. If only she could take the child to the future where a doctor could fix her deformed mouth.
“Come here, sweet pea, and sit on my lap.” The little girl climbed up, and Jillian gave her a gentle squeeze. “Duff, you go first since you chose to play black.”
He moved a piece to a white square.
“Only the red squares are used. Move your game pieces diagonally.”
“Why?”
“I don’t really know. It’s just the way the game is played.”
They played until the children grew bored—not very long—and Jillian’s nerves wore thin. Duff discovered walls could be built with the game pieces and then knocked down. The children were entertaining themselves thusly when a heavy hand knocked on the chamber door.
Jillian raced to open it. Stephen stood on the threshold looking more handsome than any man had a right. He’d bathed and wore clean clothes, a fresh plaid draping his shoulder. Even with his hair still straggly and in need of a cut and beard overlong, he made her stomach do somersaults. The rugged appearance looked gorgeous on him. Sparkling blue eyes—
Damn him for being so desirable.
“Where the hell have you been?” Jillian snapped before she could stop the angry question.
His eyes flared, then he chuckled. “Is that any way to treat the man who came to fetch you for the midday meal? Sir Robert has requested we dine with him and a few others in his private hall.”
“Of course. I’m sorry.” She was just disappointed he hadn’t come sooner. “When will we be able to continue on to the time gate?”
He shushed her and taking her arm, ushered her back into the room. He shut the door and leaned close to her ear. “I warned you the castle walls have ears. Be careful of what you speak.”
His whispered breath teased her flesh and she shivered. “Okay. When can we continue our journey?”
“On the morrow or day after. Not sure.”
Ugh. Possibly stuck here for a couple of days—she’d go stir crazy.
He turned his attention to the children. “Duff, take Keita to the kitchen for your meal by the back stair, and be wary of men roaming the passageways.”
Duff inclined his head and grasped Keita by the hand.
Stephen weaved his arm through hers. “Shall we go, my lady?”
The smile in his blue eyes made her insides do a shimmy. She allowed him to lead her, barely remembering to mark the route they took. They crossed the great hall and stepped through a doorway into a smaller, more ornately appointed inner hall, cushioned chairs at one end encircling an inviting fire in the large hearth and a dining table at the other end, the room obviously meant for entertaining important guests. Duncan was already seated at the table, but no one else. Stephen sat her next to the big ginger teddy bear.
“I must leave you in Duncan’s care while I tend to a wee bit of business.”
Jillian watched him leave. Where was he going? With whom was he meeting? What was the purpose of his business? Did it involve her?
With an irritated sigh, she turned attention to Duncan. He leaned back in the chair, arms crossed, a closed expression on his face. Not the most approachable body language, but since they were alone perhaps a good time to question him. She wanted to learn more about the children, and he might be just the person to ask.
“So, Duncan, what do you know about where Duff and Keita and the others they call changelings come from? What are their stories?”
A judging gaze zeroed in on her. “Why do you wish to ken?”
“I’m curious. And wondered if there might be a way to help them.”
“Most people shun them for their deformities.”
“Well, I don’t.”
Duncan scowled, and she thought he wouldn’t say more.
“Each child holds a story of their own,” he said. “Poor Keita was born with a deformed mouth. Her superstitious parents, howbeit, believed a devious faerie came during the night and took their perfect wee bairn and replaced her with our deformed Keita. They left her in the wood. I dinnae ken how she survived until now. I guess the older bairns somehow ca
re for the younger.”
“She has stolen my heart.”
“Aye, she is a sweet wee lass.” His expression softened, and he spoke with affection. “Now superstitious folk see Cam as an abomination, with his mismatched eyes of blue and brown, as if evil faeries or the devil hisself cursed the lad. ’Tis believed by common folk that if his family kept him, they would be cursed, too.”
“How unfair.” It shocked Jillian that people could cast out their children when she wanted a child so badly to love. Wow. She’d not admitted that before. Not to anyone. Not even to herself. She shifted in her chair, unnerved by the unexpected realization.
“Unjust, but reality just the same,” Duncan said.
“What about Duff?” Jillian pressed. “He has no detectable deformity. Just a long nose.”
“Duff’s is the saddest of the tales. As you said, he has nae affliction except lacking the same appearance as his father and brothers. Duff’s da, fearing his wife had lain with another, cast off the child before others could see her sin in her son’s face.”
“Genetics doesn’t work that way.” Jillian scoffed, feeling as if she’d choke on the indignation. “Not every child will look like their father or siblings.”
Duncan glanced around the room, then lowered his voice. “Dinnae ken of what you speak, but the lad’s appearance was enough to get him banished to the wood. Many believe the Queen of the Fae helps the bairns survive. Another reason to fear them.”
“Why doesn’t anyone take them in? Why doesn’t your chief protect them?”
“Ach. ’Tis difficult to explain.” Duncan scrubbed a hand over his face. “The bairns are feral creatures, you ken? They dinnae take well to domestication. They prefer to run wild.”
“But—”
“Duff and Keita are playing with you. One day you will wake, and they will be gone, taking with them what they can carry.”
No. Jillian couldn’t believe that of the children.
“What about the others? Blaney and Mack? What are their stories?”
The sound of voices approaching the door kept Duncan from responding.
Two men and a woman entered with Sir Robert and Stephen. The most conservatively garbed of the men seated the flamboyant woman, whose red velvet gown clashed with fiery-red hair. He then took the seat of honor for himself. Sir Robert and a peacock of a man also sat.
Stephen stood at her side. He glanced at her with warning before resting his gaze on the man at the head of the table. “Lord Campbell, may I present Lady Jillian of the Irish Clan O’Donnell. She recently made the crossing after visiting France and my MacLachlan kin. When her men and traveling companion took ill, I offered my services as escort.”
“How gallant,” the woman twittered.
“Please, feel free to call me Alexander.” Lord Campbell gave Jillian a devil-may-care grin. The woman at his side frowned before a brittle smile curved her lips. He ignored her displeasure. “Then you have met our Lady Elspeth and her husband, Finn?”
“Aye. I have.” Jillian attempted to sound like the others. What sort of game did they play? Intrigue.
“Are they well?”
“Aye. Very.”
The brightly dressed man chortled. Lord Campbell shot him an annoyed glance. “Where are my manners? Please let me present my companions. “Lady Jonet Stewart and her brother, Ninian, Sheriff of Bute, and Keeper of Rothesay Castle.”
“My pleasure.” Jillian inclined her head. Something unsettled her about both men, but especially the sheriff. His black hair, swept back in a tight queue, made his features appear hawk-like. A chill slid along her spine when his dark gaze swept over her then narrowed in calculation.
Sir Robert cleared his throat. Alexander raised a hand and a server appeared from the shadows of the room. Stephen squeezed her shoulder and sat in the empty chair at her side. Wine was served in jeweled goblets and bread passed round.
“Are you journeying to Castle Lachlan then?” Alexander dipped a piece of bread in his wine. “The heavy snow has made travel difficult.”
“Aye.” Stephen nodded. “I imagine it has. We wait for the storm to pass.”
“Could be a couple of days.”
Jillian tensed, and Stephen patted her thigh under the table. She appreciated the comforting gesture though she hated the thought of being stuck here, playing this charade for much longer.
The remainder of dinner was a quiet affair with light conversation. Although Jillian didn’t completely relax, she enjoyed the meal. Afterward the small group gathered before the fire, and her skin prickled with unease at the speculative glances directed her way by Lord Campbell and the sheriff.
There was something unnerving about the way both men watched her, making no effort to display discretion.
“You must be a good friend of our Lady Laurie,” Lord Campbell said. “Your speech is much like hers, yet she is French and you Irish. A conundrum to be sure. You must have spent much time together...” His eyebrows rose, and he let the words trail off.
Stephen tensed. She wanted to clasp his hand, but feared touching him would send the wrong message.
“Yes.” She attempted to appear serene, unaffected by the direction of the conversation. “I’ve lived several years with…Lady Laurie and her husband in France.”
“Quite.” Lord Campbell smiled, but his eyes remained hard. “You ken there was a time I thought the lady a witch.”
“Lord Campbell, I—”
He raised a hand. “Please call me by my given name—Alexander.”
“Well—”
“I met Patrick’s wife once—a bewitching creature surely,” the sheriff interrupted. “As are you, Lady Jillian.”
“Dinnae tease the woman,” Lady Jonet admonished. “You both ken verra well there is nae such thing as a witch.”
“Of course there is not, my dear,” Alexander said. “Yet some believe it true.”
No such thing as a witch. Jillian shivered and shifted her gaze from man to man to woman. Why did they study her so intently?
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“Get up!” A large hand grasped Stephen’s shoulder and shook.
Thank the good Lord for a warrior’s agility. He rose in a flash, gripping the hilt of his dirk, ready to face a threat. Munn’s weathered brown face greeted him. An unpleasant sight of which to wake certainly. Blinking and shaking his head, Stephen chuckled. “You are lucky I did not skewer you. You ken better than to wake me thusly.”
“Humpf.” The gnarly wee man fisted oversized hands at his waist. “If you had not drank yourself into your cups with Campbell and Stewart the last several eve’ns, waking you would have been easier.”
“Ach, I needed to keep them busy. Did not want them to pay too much attention to Jillian and her unusual ways.”
“That’s as it may be, ’tis time to leave.”
Stephen jerked his gaze to the unshuttered window and beyond to the clear blue sky. Amen. The storm had ended. They could be on their way.
The air coming from outside felt warmer, lightening his mood. He dressed in woolen trews and leine, and strapped on an array of weapons. “Where have you been, Munn? I thought you had gone ahead to Castle Lachlan.”
“Nae. Hunkered down in the stables. Saw things.”
“What did you see?” Stephen hesitated in the fastening of the large claymore to his back.
“Calyn’s brother did not leave on the galley traveling to Glasgow.”
Stephen pinned Munn with a penetrating stare. “Explain.”
“Headed out on horseback toward the inland track.”
“Why did you not stop him? Come to me directly to relay the lad’s activities? Follow him?”
Munn shrugged. “Someone needed to guard the fae horses. I be tell’n you now.”
“Damned devil’s spawn!” Stephen pulled the sheath’s leather strap tight and stomped to Jillian’s bedchamber.
Ciaran would ride for Loch Fyne. But would he turn left toward Castle Lachlan or right and head for D
unadd?
If Ciaran rode hard for Dunadd, Calyn would hear of Stephen’s traveling companions before he had a chance to reach her and explain the status of his affairs. Ciaran would certainly corrupt the tale. Then again, the storm would have slowed the lad. Perhaps Stephen still had enough time to escort Jillian to Castle Lachlan and the Sithichean Sluaigh, and then ride like a banshee chased him to Dunadd and explain things to Calyn. Once she learned he loved another woman, she’d certainly release him from their commitment. Wouldn’t she?
Jillian was packing when he arrived at her chamber. She glanced up from the task and smiled.
The sight made him grin. “I see you have been informed of our departure.”
“Duncan stopped by.”
“Here, let me help with those.” He grabbed a saddlebag from the floor and together they descended the stairs.
They gave thanks and said their goodbyes to Sir Robert, collected the two MacLachlan guards, Duncan, and the bairns on the way through the great hall, and rode out the castle gate through the slushy snow before the morning escaped them.
Once out of sight of the castle folk, Munn appeared, riding the rump of Duncan’s horse.
As the sun continued its arc across the cerulean sky, the day grew warmer and the snow covering the ground continued to melt, making the trail muddy and difficult to traverse, but they plodded onward. By late afternoon, the small group was weary and ready to take their rest for the night. Stephen guided them through a hilly area where a small cave lay hidden within an outcrop of rocks. With a nod from him, the other men ensured no wild inhabitants had taken up residence.
“All clear,” Duncan yelled.
Stephen handed Duff a bedroll. “Go and help Duncan set camp.”
Keita trailed after the lad.
Stephen placed his hands on Jillian’s waist and lifted her from the saddle. She slid down his front, thrilling him, trapped as she was between his body and the horse. He kissed the tip of her nose. To his surprise, she plundered his mouth, making his blood run hot, his cock harden. Grrr. She would be the death of him.
Just Wait For Me (Highland Gardens Book 3) Page 12