Jillian closed her eyes then opened them. “Who was the woman at the faerie hill?”
“My handfasted wife.”
“Don’t touch me.” Jillian pulled away. “Please, don’t touch me.”
Stephen glanced around the chamber. The others had left them alone. Gave him the privacy to try to make things right with Jillian.
“Believe me.” He reached out a hand then dropped it to his side when she shook her head. “I never meant to dishonor you.”
“Me. More the fool for not asking if you were married.”
“None of this is your fault.”
“Do you love her?”
Stephen lowered his gaze to the oak floor, considering how to answer the question. How much to reveal. The answer was an emphatic no. He had no such feelings for Calyn. Yet the matter was complicated.
He looked into Jillian’s dark eyes and felt a tightening in his chest. This was the woman with whom he wanted to spend the rest of his life. If only…he hadn’t agreed to the handfast. A hard lesson was learned over the years since Patrick left and reinforced that dreadful day on the battlefield with his king—you don’t always get what you want.
“Will you let me explain about the handfasting?”
“Go ahead, and you better make it good.”
“I wandered aimless after Patrick and Lady Laurie left. Guess you could say I was lonely.” He pounded the center of his chest. “As if there was an empty space inside me needing filling. You ken?”
Jillian cleared her throat, raw emotion vivid in her eyes. “So you filled it with your wife.”
“Nae, lass. I dinnae remember laying with Calyn, but when I woke naked in her bed... Ach, well…” He scraped a palm over his face. “I agreed to the handfast because…”
“You’re an honorable man.”
“I try to be. The answer to your question though is nae. I dinnae love her. I dinnae even like her. But I now understand I must respect the commitment made.” He stepped closer to Jillian and touched her soft cheek. Moisture glistened in her eyes. “’Twas wrong of me to dismiss the pledge I made on that dreadful day and seek a life with you. ’Twas wrong of me to keep the handfasting a secret from you. ’Twas wrong of me to express my love for you and lead us both to believe we had a future together.” He ground his teeth. “I wish I hadn’t so easily agreed to Calyn’s demands.”
“Her name is Calyn. Such a pretty name.”
He shrugged and frowned. “I must return to the past and set things right. If Calyn truly bears my child, which I doubt, I will stay with her and be a proper father to my bairn. If she lied to me, as I believe…if there is nae bairn, I will break the contract with the wench on the prescribed date and return to you. If you will still have me.”
“You shouldn’t call her a wench.”
“I should call her worse for tricking me into her bed.”
Jillian raised a skeptical brow. “Do you expect me to believe—”
“That is the only way it could have happened.” Now that he’d unburdened his soul, his eyes were wet with tears. He didn’t care if ’twas unmanly. He needed her to believe him. Believe he’d never meant to hurt her. “Can you forgive me?”
“I love you Stephen MacEwen.” She stepped into him and wrapped her arms around his chest. “When will you go?”
He held her tight. Even though he’d made the decision to go back, leaving Jillian would be the hardest thing he’d done in his life. “As soon as the gate lets me through. It can be fickle.”
Perhaps the fae gate would never let him return to the past and he could stay with Jillian in this future place. Caitrina didn’t seem to be of a mind to aid him.
“I will see you through the time gate.” Douglas MacKinnon stood in the doorway holding Stephen’s sheathed sword.
“You? How?”
“Just keep it to yourself. If anyone asks, swear Munn assisted you.”
Stephen inwardly sighed. ’Twas wrong of him to consider shirking his responsibilities.
They walked together to the edge of the faerie knoll just beyond the garden gate. Clouds strolled across the sun in the cerulean sky above, making the scene before them feel normal. Douglas stepped to the side, allowing Stephen a moment of privacy with Jillian.
Moisture pooled in her brown eyes. “I don’t want you to go.”
“I must. My honor demands such.”
She leaned in to him, sobbed against his chest, anguished tears wetting his leine, breaking his heart. “You are a good man.”
“I am sorry, so sorry, to have hurt you.” He wrapped his arms around her. Hugged her tight. His heart would remain here in the future with Jillian no matter what happened in the past.
“Promise me something?” Jillian asked.
“Anything.”
“Take care of Keita and Duff.”
“I vow to do right by them.” He held a palm over his heart.
“I will always love you, Stephen MacEwen.” Jillian kissed his cheek. “Always and forever.”
“And I you, m' fhìor ghaol.” My true love.
“Oh, Stephen.”
“Soraidh leibh," he murmured against her hair. Farewell to you.
But not forever. He had to believe he would return or he wouldn’t be able to leave.
“’Tis time.” Douglas said “We must hurry before Caitrina catches wind of what we are doing.”
Stephen released Jillian from his embrace, accepted the claymore from the man, and secured the sheath to his back. He walked onto the mound as if his boots were filled with heavy weight. Turning back, he waved. Jillian’s image wavered as everything spun out of control, and he remembered Iain’s warning. If you return to the past, you might not be able to travel forward through the garden gate again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
9 March, 1514
Dunadd Castle, Argyll Scotland
The great hall held a somber hush, the clan mourning their losses six months to the day after the Battle of Flodden. Calyn sat to Stephen’s side, a smile broadening her mouth as if she were a tabby cat seated before a bowl of cream. Allain served a fine board, but not that good.
What was the wench so happy about?
Stephen certainly wasn’t. Since arriving at Dunadd, he’d repeatedly questioned her about how he’d come to wake in her bed on that fateful morning. She persisted with the claim he’d forced his way into her chamber, taken advantage of her affinity for him, and she succumbed to his advances. She claimed to be as surprised as he that she’d grown large with child from just that one night of carnal knowledge. A night he didn’t remember.
He inhaled sharply as her hand slid up his thigh for the fifth time. He gently removed it. Her pout only lasted a moment before she smiled for those watching them.
What was her game? Why did she want an unwilling husband?
Eyes widening and upper lip curling into something ugly, she stared toward the rear passage. His eyes followed her gaze, and he understood the cause of the sneer. Munn—having willingly joined Stephen when he could have remained at Castle Lachlan with the chief—guided Keita and Duff below stairs, more than likely to the kitchens where the bairns would partake of the evening meal.
“Must those ragamuffins stay with us?” Calyn demanded.
Stephen cringed, still not used to the whiney quality of her voice. How could he have bedded her? He would have had to gag her first.
“As I told you before, the bairns stay with me. If you wish them to leave, I leave, too.”
“You cannot. You are my husband.”
“Handfasted husband. For but a year and a day.”
“Nae matter?” She rubbed her round belly. “Soon we will have a bairn of our own and a committed marriage assured for our future together.”
He would have sunk into despair had he not caught sight of a man he recognized. A man he remembered speaking with the night before he woke in Calyn’s bed.
“Pardon me, mistress, I must—” Stephen didn’t bother finishing the statement or st
aying to hear a litany of curses, instead he hurried across the chamber to seek out a man who might have answers he required.
Howbeit, the man was gone by the time Stephen reached the table where the man had been seated moments before. Stephen just couldn’t catch a break—to use one of Jillian’s future terms. When he returned to where he’d left Calyn, she’d already departed in a huff by all accounts.
He collected the bairns and the brownie and wandered to the cottage he’d let for his newly acquired family. Calyn already slept in the bed they were expected to share. That would never happen. They might be wed for the rest of their lives, but they would never again share a bed. It would be a dishonor to Jillian.
He bedded down with the bairns.
Sleep came slow, and when it did, Stephen tossed and turned caught within a snare of dreams. He sat at a table with faceless warriors who would travel with him to do battle for king and country. They drank rounds, toasting to future success. A buxom maid sidled close, poured ale into his cup, and propositioned him. He couldn’t make out her face, but kenned he didn’t want to spend the night with the lass. After another toast, he stood, wanting to find his pallet. He staggered, though he hadn’t consumed enough ale to be drunk. A brawny lad offered assistance and then another. Instead they manhandled him, trying to subdue him. He attempted to throw them off, but he had no strength. He woke in a sweat.
When Calyn ventured from bed in the morning, she found him seated at the dining table glowering into a mug. He lifted his gaze and had to squash the urge to snarl at her. “Tell me true. Did I lay with you the night you conceived?”
“Of course. I have told you before.” Her giggle grated on his nerves. “You ken you woke in my bed.”
“Aye. But dinnae remember tupping you.”
“Dinnae be vulgar.” She tugged the fabric of her gown, tightening its fit, drawing attention to her large belly. “You will ken the truth of it when you gaze into the eyes of your bairn.”
Of a sudden, she gasped, eyes widening. Clutching a hand to her belly, she stumbled. He caught her by the shoulders. Fear glinted in her eyes. “Help me to the bed then send for the midwife. Hurry! The bairn is coming early.”
Stephen paced the yard, cold air a bracing relief from the moist heat of the cottage. Munn had taken Keita and Duff up to the castle, out of range of Calyn’s screams. How long did it take to bear a child?
Finally, the screaming ended. Moments later, a good mother poked her head out of the door. “You have a strapping laddie, my lord.”
Stephen strode across the icy ground and over the threshold. Within the heat of the cottage, the midwife held up the screeching bairn.
“His eyes are blue like mine,” Stephen said, awed by the infant.
“All bairns have blue eyes at birth, my lord.” She wrapped the lad in swaddling and handed him into Stephen’s arms. He held the child awkwardly. The bairn was tiny. Fragile.
Still, Stephen felt no warmth toward the lad. Shouldn’t he feel more for his son?
After Calyn and the wee lad had been put to bed and were soundly sleeping, Stephen approached the midwife. “I have heard bairns born early can be too small to live.”
“You have naught to worry about with your lad.” The woman patted his arm. “He wasn’t born early and is as healthy as they come.”
Stephen felt a fist punch to his gut. Only six months had passed since the handfasting. Calyn had lied about the conception.
“Are you sure the bairn did not come early?”
“Oh, aye. I ken what an early birth looks like.” The woman smiled, displaying a missing tooth. “If you have a worry for the lad, visit the witch living near the wee loch in the wood. She can give you a charm of protection among other things.”
The question now was what he should do about Calyn’s deceit. Could he leave her and the bairn and return to Jillian in the future? That is, if Iain was mistaken and Stephen could coerce the faeries of the mound to let him travel through.
While he pondered the question and its consequences over the evening meal the next night at the castle, he again glimpsed the man who might be able to shed light on the events leading up to Stephen being compromised in Calyn’s bed. Stephen hurried across the hall determined to catch the man before he left. He approached the man’s table and sidled close.
“Might we have a private word, sir?” Stephen asked, keeping an eye on the man’s companions. They continued to eat, paying him no mind.
The man nodded, rose, and followed Stephen into the passageway and into a curtained alcove. Although all castles had ears everywhere, Stephen thought the spot safe for a short discussion.
“My name is Stephen MacEwen. I remember drinking ale with you the night before I was forcibly handfasted and left for war.”
“Aye. I ken who ye are.”
“Can you tell me what happened that night?”
“Ciaran and his brother will not thank me fer talking to ye.” The man’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. He pulled aside the curtain and glanced both ways before pulling the fabric closed again. “’Tis hearsay. Ye ken?”
“I understand.”
“Yer lass had a nasty lover. Ye ken the man we all hate? Ye ken Maclay?”
The shock made Stephen’s stomach drop. “Aye. Go on.”
“Well, they say he got her with child and her brothers needed to find someone suitable to wed her and chose you. They had yer ale tainted.” The man narrowed glassy eyes. “Ye dinnae hear this from me.”
Stephen handed the man a coin for his troubles, and the man slipped from the alcove.
Maclay? Stephen could hardly believe the turn of events. What had Calyn been thinking to bed such a man? Had he forced himself on the lass? ’Twas the only possible reason a lass would bed such a man.
Stephen ran a hand through his hair. Could he leave Calyn and the bairn unprotected, and travel to the future to be with Jillian? His conscience wouldn’t allow such. Mayhap he could hunt Maclay and kill the bastard.
The midwife had said something about a witch and a protection charm. He would seek out the witch on the morrow.
At noontime, Stephen headed for the stable. When he arrived, he found Keita and Duff already mounted on a horse. Duff raised his chin. “We are coming with you.”
“How do you ken where I am going?”
“Does not matter.” The lad held firm. “You will not leave us behind again.”
Munn strolled out from another stall with Stephen’s saddled horse. The wee man shrugged. “The bairns are persuasive.”
“Aye. They are that.” Stephen shook his head and mounted the horse. Munn leapt up on the beast’s rump.
Luck provided a clear sky and warmer weather than usual. They rode the better part of the afternoon, until gloaming shadows covered the ground. As they cleared the wood near the hut on the loch, the hair on Stephen’s arms lifted and the air bristled with…magic.
“Stay here at the edge of the wood while I visit with the witch. If anything bad happens, ride like a banshee chases you back to the castle. You understand?”
Both children nodded, and Stephen dismounted. He handed the reins over to Munn. “Keep the bairns safe.”
Keita grasped his sleeve. “Take a care.”
He rubbed a tender spot on his chest over his heart. “I will.”
With a nod from the brownie, Stephen inhaled a calming breath and approached the witch’s lair. A cackle sounded from within the moss-covered structure, and he stiffened.
The heavy oak door swung open and a woman of minute stature stood on the threshold. The hunch of her back must be painful. Stringy gray hair hung over a face with creases upon creases and a hairy wart protruded from a crooked nose. Howbeit, the hag’s emerald eyes were remarkable. They seemed familiar, though Stephen couldn’t comprehend why.
“What brings you to my humble doorstep, Lord Stephen?”
Hardly a lord. “How do you ken who I am?”
“I saw your coming in my herbal tea leaves. Why have
you come?” Her intense gaze seemed to see right through him.
Stephen shifted his weight, uneasy with her perusal. “I need a protection spell for…my newborn son.”
“Ach! I ken the bairn of which you speak is nae of your blood, but of that of the villain Maclay.”
A chill traveled over Stephen’s spine. The witch had an uncanny knowledge.
“Does not matter who fathered the child.”
“Heed my warning for the evil man’s son can come to nae good.”
“You speak nonsense. The bairn is my responsibility and I will see him protected."
“Hah! You have not even given him a name.”
“Nae matter. What must I give you in return for a charm to safeguard the wee lad?”
She handed him a mat of woven reeds with a symbolic etched black stone at its center. “Place this talisman under the bairn’s cradle. We will discuss your payment at a later time.”
Stephen clutched the charmed mat and turned to leave.
“Not so fast.”
He pivoted back to the witch. “Aye?”
“Is there not something else you need to ken?”
“I dinnae understand your meaning.”
“A way through the time gate at the Sithichean Sluaigh perhaps?”
“What do you ken of the faerie knoll, witch? My understanding is that a body can only travel through once in each direction.”
“You ken little of the ways of the fae. One faerie took you forward. Someone else brought you back. Each can take you through once again.” The witch scowled. “Though I dinnae understand how a meddling brownie learned the ways of the fae royalty. Nae matter. Go to the Sithichean Sluaigh on the next full moon and say these words to induce the favor of the fae.”
“What are the words?” Hope flared within Stephen’s breast.
“Faeries dance round me, faeries sing to me. Upon this hill I am free of strife. From this sacred place I will ascend to a new life.”
Stephen repeated the chant so he wouldn’t forget.
“If the fae look fondly upon you, they will send you to the one you seek.” She swatted her hands in his direction. “Now go before a late winter storm keeps you from your journey.”
Just Wait For Me (Highland Gardens Book 3) Page 18