Gawen's Claim: Highlander Fate, Lairds of the Isles Book One

by Knight, Stella

Lila considered this. They could do that, but it would take time. And that was the human, nonmagical way of doing things. She was a stiuireadh. She needed—must—use her magic.

  "You can send your trusted men to carry out a search," she said. "But I'll use my magic—it's why I'm here."

  Gawen studied her for a long moment, worry still lingering in his eyes. She wondered if it was worry for her or for his people, his lands. Given his abrupt distance earlier, she assumed none of his concern was for her, and this knowledge caused a shard of hurt to pierce her gut.

  She stood, giving him a forced, polite smile.

  "I need to think . . . to figure out how to proceed," she said, and left the room without waiting for his response.

  Back in her room, she paced restlessly as the sky outside her window darkened, mulling over which spells she could use to find the aingidh and trying to guess what time period she'd come from. Another year in the Middle Ages? A distant time past—the Dark Ages? Or even earlier, to the time of the Celts?

  She sank down onto her bed, recalling the dark dream she’d had before she traveled to the past, and the sense of darkness she’d felt at the scene of the Daimh Singleir's murder. She went still, her heart leaping into her throat.

  Dread swirled through her veins, but she knew what she had to do.

  * * *

  Gawen swung open the door shortly after Lila knocked. She swallowed hard as she noticed that his tunic was halfway unbuttoned, and she glimpsed a swath of muscular torso beneath.

  He arched a quizzical brow, and for a moment she forgot what she’d come here to say. Why did Gawen have to be so sexy?

  “Lila?” he asked. “Are ye all right?”

  Behind him, she could see that he'd tossed aside his bedclothes; he’d likely been about to undress and slide beneath the covers to sleep. Lila could see his perfect, muscular body in her mind’s eye, slipping into bed.

  “Darkness,” she forced herself to say, shaking the erotic image from her mind.

  “What?”

  “The darkness I felt before. I’ve sensed it before, in my time, in my dreams,” she said, making the conscious decision to not mention that she’d seen him in her dreams as well. “I think I need to hone in on that to locate her. I’ve been avoiding it, but I need to face it. Since I don’t know which timeline she’s coming from, I’m going to use the oldest Locator spell I know from that grimoire you gave me.”

  He nodded, but she could see the question in his eyes. Magic is her responsibility. What is she coming to me for?

  She stepped inside his room, not wanting to risk being overheard. He closed the door and turned to face her, his brow creased.

  “That darkness—it’s hard to describe. It’s like being sucked into the center of a storm, and it'll be difficult for me to get my bearings. I need your help to pull me out of it. Otherwise . . ." She trailed off, fear seizing her at the thought of being stuck in that darkness, that swirling rage and despair.

  He stepped forward, taking her hands in his. Sparks of heat danced along her flesh from where he touched her; it was a feeling akin to her magic.

  “Aye,” he said gently. “I will do whatever I can tae help.”

  As their eyes locked, she suddenly ached for him to kiss her, to take away her fear and uncertainty, replacing it with that swirling desire.

  But she made herself step back, moving to a chair in the corner of the room. She felt his eyes on her as she made herself comfortable.

  “When do ye need me tae—"

  “You’ll know,” she said, giving him a shaky smile. “If I start screaming, that’s a good indication.”

  But he didn't chuckle or even smile at her jest. Instead, he gave her a concerned frown.

  “Lila, are ye certain that—"

  “I have to find her,” she said. “This is the best way. It’s what I’m here for.”

  She said this to remind him as much as to remind herself.

  He still looked concerned but nodded, taking a seat on the bed, his worried eyes trained on her. She expelled a long, slow breath and closed her eyes, murmuring the words of an old spell from the Arsa grimoire that she’d memorized.

  Spells changed subtly over time; a different command, a different word, a variance to the language. This Locator spell was different from the ones she'd practiced in her own time; she hoped it led her to the aingidh.

  “Tha na feadhainn as sine a tha mi ag iarraidh a ‘nochdadh an bhana-bhuidsich dorcha seo dhomh.”

  Lila held her breath after reciting the spell. She thought she would feel nothing for a while, that the familiar frustration would take hold, but the exact opposite happened.

  Pulsating rage and grief flooded her, a fury so searing that it seemed to scorch her insides. And she knew with an utter certainty that she was feeling the dark witch—the witch always seemed to burn with fury. Her instinct was to jerk herself away from this rage, this feeling of darkness, but instead she allowed the dark emotions to consume her, and repeated the words of the spell.

  More grief and despair. Blinding fury. Lila couldn’t see anything, only feel, that overwhelming darkness dominating her mind. She repeated the words of the spell, ignoring her instincts to flee from this sense of evil that had settled over her.

  Through the darkness, she saw a glimpse of something. It was brief and hazy, appearing for only a millisecond in her mind's eye, but what she saw was unmistakable. It was Carraig Castle—Gawen’s castle—looming in the distance. The sense of rage increased. Rage paired with pleasure.

  “Lila. Come back tae me. Follow my voice.”

  The darkness ebbed, and Lila obliged, following the deep rumble of Gawen’s voice out of the darkness, like a shining, gold thread in a sea of black.

  When she opened her eyes, she’d somehow ended up on the floor, cradled in Gawen’s lap as he stroked her hair. Concern filled his gaze as he looked down at her. She wanted to remain in his arms, to allow the warmth of them to comfort her, but she made herself sit up, her heart hammering as she recalled what she'd seen in her mind's eye.

  "Gawen," she whispered, panic clawing its way through her chest, "I felt her. I saw her—and I know where she's going."

  Chapter 10

  "She's going to Carraig Castle. I saw it in my vision of her."

  Panic seized Gawen at Lila’s words. The thought of this aingidh at his castle, among his people . . .

  He turned his gaze to the window, his breath quickening with rising anxiety. It was already night, and rain fell from the dark sky; they couldn't travel now. They had no choice but to leave at first light.

  Lila had already extricated herself from his arms, hurrying over to the small bag that rested next to the bed.

  “What are ye doing?”

  “Did you hear what I said?” Lila demanded, turning to face him with panicked blue eyes. “She may be at Carraig Castle now. If we don’t get there—"

  He stood and approached, taking her hands in his.

  “Do ye nae think I want tae get back there? But ’tis the middle of the night in a downpour; we cannae leave now. Before I left, I had my steward put more guards on the castle and warned him tae stay on guard. We will leave at first light.”

  Lila's gaze followed his to the window. Her shoulders sank, and she heaved a sigh.

  “We never should have left the castle. If my magic was stronger, I could have foreseen this.”

  “Ye donnae ken that. Had we nae left the castle, ye may nae have had yer vision, and we wouldnae even ken for certain if the dark witch was here. Ye need tae sleep,” he said, stepping back from her. “I will come fetch ye at first light.”

  She nodded, but he saw a glimmer of unease in her eyes.

  “Lila?”

  “I'm fine,” she said, forcing a smile. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Does something still trouble ye?" he pressed. "Ye can tell me."

  “Nightmares,” she said, after a long pause. “I—after a spell like that, I’m terrified of what I’ll se
e in my dreams.” She flushed with embarrassment. “But—it’s all right. I don’t need much sleep. I just want to get back to the castle and see if—"

  “Ye can stay here with me.”

  He made the offer without thinking, but as soon as he did, he realized that he wanted to stay with her. Lila’s eyes widened with surprise, her gaze darting toward the bed.

  “In the chair, of course,” he hastily amended, though he couldn't stop the erotic image of lying entwined with her in that bed. “If it will help ye sleep.”

  “That’s not necess—"

  “'Tis no trouble,” he insisted. “I only have one question for ye.”

  “What?” Lila asked, regarding him with wariness.

  “Do ye snore?”

  She blinked in astonishment before her mouth curved into an amused smile.

  “No. Do you?”

  “I’ve been told I donnae,” he said, and instantly regretted his words as he realized the implication, that a lover had told him this. For some reason he couldn't fathom, he wanted her to know this wasn't the case.

  "When I was a bairn, my father had an addition built ontae the castle where my chamber was. I briefly had tae share a chamber with my sister and our nurse. Gordana teased me about my snoring; she told me I sounded like a dying horse."

  Lila laughed, the lingering tension in her body seeming to dissipate. He returned her smile, a much-needed sense of levity settling over him.

  “Ah—I need to take off my gown before I get into bed. I'll sleep in my underdress,” Lila said when her laughter subsided, a faint flush spreading across her face.

  Hot arousal shot through him at her words as he imagined what she’d look like in her underdress; the curves of her body even more apparent. He gave her a gruff nod and turned to step outside of the room as she took off her gown, trying hard not to think about the sensuality of her body. His cock began to stir at the image that formed in his mind and he clenched his jaw, trying to think of the most unerotic images he could conjure: the servants taking out the chamber pots, a stable boy cleaning out manure from the stables, but even those thoughts did little to stymie his desire.

  “All right,” Lila said, after a few moments. “You can come back in.”

  When he entered the room again, he almost regretted offering to stay. He’d seen lasses in underdresses before—he’d seen them in far less—but the sight of Lila in her underdress was painfully seductive. There was the firm jut of her breasts beneath the gown, the luscious swell of her hips, her flowing hair loose about her shoulders, her lovely eyes filled with shyness as he took her in. She looked like a virginal bride on her wedding night, waiting for her husband to devour her.

  Gawen tried to stop staring; told himself he should make up an excuse and go to another room. But his mind didn't want to obey, his gaze lingering on every part of her alluring body before he forced himself to speak.

  “Well,” he said, his voice sounding strained to his own ears, “ye should sleep. I’ll sleep in the chair.”

  Lila frowned, her gaze straying to the small and uncomfortable looking chair in the room's corner.

  “Gawen, you can sleep in the bed. I know you’re an honorable man. Besides, I’m not a delicate, unwed maid from this time. I think I can handle being in bed with a man.”

  At her words, acrid jealousy seared his gut. Her implication was clear; she'd shared a bed with a man before. Perhaps more than one. Perhaps many. He didn’t like the thought of that, and his jaw went tight.

  Again, he considered telling her he'd sleep in another room. But he couldn't resist the temptation of feeling that body of hers in bed next to him, even if it was chaste. It may be the only chance he had to do so.

  He gave her a hasty nod of agreement, trailing her to the bed, which now seemed entirely too small.

  “Do you need to change?” Lila asked, slipping into bed, looking at him with curiosity. “I know there’s no such thing as pajamas in this time, but—"

  “Pajamas?”

  “They’re clothes people change into for sleep in my time.”

  “There are clothes people wear just tae sleep?” he asked, knitting his brows together. He couldn’t imagine such a waste of fabric.

  “Yes,” Lila said, looking amused at his bafflement as he settled into bed next to her. “Clothes aren’t made by hand in my time—at least, not en masse. Machines do the work. Clothes are easier to come by.”

  “Machines?”

  “This conversation could go on forever,” she said, with a light chuckle.

  “Well, ’tis no need for such pajams.”

  “Pajamas,” Lila gently corrected, her lips twisting with another amused smile.

  “’Tis usually hot in the chambers of the castle; the servants leave the fires burning through the seasons. When ’tis not the dead of winter, I sleep in the nude.”

  A hot flush spread across her cheeks, and he couldn’t stop the grin that spread across his face. Perhaps the lovely witch was more innocent than she seemed. A jolt of pure male delight rippled through him at the thought that she’d never lain in bed with a naked man before, though the idea was impossible, given how bonnie she was.

  She laid her head down, and he had to resist the urge to brush a stray strand of hair from her face. Though he had bedded lasses before, it struck him that he’d never simply . . . lain with a lass. He’d not allowed any mistress he’d bedded to remain in his bed after lovemaking; it seemed too personal, too intimate. Instead, he’d have a trusted guard escort them back to their own guest chamber.

  He studied Lila. Her eyes had become far away again as she stared up at the ceiling, and he saw that fear return to her eyes. She must have been thinking about the aingidh, or whatever she'd seen in her vision. He reached out to touch her face, turning her attention toward him.

  "When we saw the rainbow earlier, it reminded me of how my mother would take me and Gordana out tae the courtyard tae watch one whenever they appeared. She told us that there was another meaning tae the rainbow—that no matter what darkness life would bring, there would always be light after. I tried tae remember those words after she died. But I confess . . . ’tis been difficult."

  "That's similar to what my parents have always told me and Avery," Lila said, a nostalgic smile touching her lips. "They would tell us that our gift of magic can bring great light, or great darkness. That we would sometimes be forced to grapple with the darkness. But I've never experienced such darkness until now. Until I felt the dark witch. I know I'm the one who has to stop her, but . . . " She closed her eyes and shuddered. "I'm scared. And I hate being scared. I should be stronger; I should—”

  "The bravest men experience fear. Donnae consider yer fear a weakness, lass. Consider it a strength. Consider it . . . a light tae combat the darkness."

  "How can fear be a strength?"

  "It means ye have something worth fighting for. Something worth defeating the darkness for. Yer fear shows yer determination. It shows yer bravery. Never forget that."

  "I think you have too much faith in me," she muttered.

  "And ye have tae little faith in yerself," he returned. He reached out to touch the side of her face, and her eyes returned to his. He wanted nothing more than to claim her lips with his own, but he knew his desire for her would overwhelm him, and he would find it impossible to not make love to her.

  He withdrew his hand and instead took her hand in his, raising it to his lips.

  "Now sleep, lass," he murmured. "I'll be at yer side tae help chase away the nightmares if they come."

  He lowered her hand and started to withdraw his from her grip, but she held firm, closing her eyes, and he realized she intended to hold on to his hand as she slept.

  He watched her drift off to sleep, and he felt something open up inside of his chest, as if a door that had been locked shut was slowly being pried open. The feeling both thrilled and frightened him. He shouldn’t form an attachment to Lila, but when he drifted off to a deep sleep of his own, settling in
next to the warmth of her body, he realized something. An attachment to Lila that went beyond desire had already taken hold of him.

  Chapter 11

  When Lila awoke, Gawen was still sleeping, sprawled on his back. He was even more gorgeous in sleep, with the early dawn sunlight illuminating his handsome profile: the stubbled square jaw, the generous mouth, the strands of hair which caught the light like miniature strands of fire. Tendrils of heat coiled around her, and she swallowed hard as she took him in.

  Gawen stirred, and she quickly averted her gaze, not wanting him to catch her staring. He turned to face her, his green eyes blinking at her for several moments as if he’d forgotten how he’d gotten there. He abruptly sat up, climbing out of bed. She tried not to let his abrupt departure bruise her ego.

  “Did ye sleep well, lass?” he asked gruffly, still not looking at her. “Any nightmares?”

  “No,” she said, giving him a grateful smile. “I slept well, thank you. I think our talk helped.”

  “I’m glad yer sleep fared well,” he said, already walking to the door. “I’ll wash up in yer room. We need tae head back tae the castle post haste.”

  She watched him hurry out. Lila bit her lip as she got dressed, trying to ignore her lingering hurt. She’d never spent a night in bed with any man before. They’d both been clothed and hadn’t so much as kissed, but it had been the most intimate night she’d shared with anyone.

  When she joined him at the stables moments later, he gave her a curt nod, barely waiting for her as he rode out. Irritation prickled at her chest; he was behaving just as he had after the kiss they’d shared.

  He doesn’t owe you anything, Lila told herself as her horse trotted after him. Last night he was just being kind. It meant nothing significant.

  But the thought didn’t stop the memory of their night together from swirling through her mind: the deep rumble of Gawen’s laughter, his comforting words, his potent masculine scent of oak and sandalwood as he’d lain next to her.

  By the time they reached the castle, she thought she’d feel nothing but anxiety, given that the aingidh may be here. But in spite of herself, a sliver of disappointment crawled down her spine at the knowledge that her alone time with Gawen had come to an end.