Twelvetide
Twelve Nights of Highland Magic
An Enchanted Highlands Novella
Dawn Marie Hamilton
Back Cover Blurb
He has twelve nights to gain her love. She has twelve nights to save his soul.
Fulfilling a childhood promise, Ashley Dumont returns to an ancient Druid garden in the Black Hills of Scotland on the eve of the winter solstice—a time when magic hums and the veil between realms thins and tears, allowing all manner of supernatural creatures through. Will the ghost who claimed to be her destiny still be there?
Caelan Innes awaits her arrival. Unjustly murdered in the sixteenth century, a second chance at life depends on this woman. The Druids grant them the twelve nights of Yule to find love and save Cael's soul. Will a trip through time and the treachery of enemies make the sacrifice too dear?
Copyright
Copyright © Dawn Marie Wolzein, December 2015
First Printing, April 2016
Edited by Cindy Davis
Cover design by Zak Kelleher
Also published in the Enchanted Highlands Holiday Collection
(Kindle Edition, December 2015)
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the author, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is coincidental.
Dedication
This novella is dedicated to the authors of
the Enchanted Highlands Holiday Collection.
April and Victoria
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thank you to Cindy Davis for editorial guidance. Thank you to my dear friend, Cathy MacRae, for critiques and vital encouragement. Thank you to April Holthaus and Victoria Zak, my partners in the Enchanted Highlands project. And a special thank you to Kimi and Nicole. Words cannot convey how important you are to me.
Most importantly, I thank Frank, my husband, best friend, and personal hero.
Table of Contents
Back Cover Blurb
Copyright
Dedication
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Table of Contents
ENCHANTED HIGHLANDS: THE MAGICAL GARDEN OF TRUTH
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
Also from Dawn Marie Hamilton
Future Works:
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
ENCHANTED HIGHLANDS:
THE MAGICAL GARDEN OF TRUTH
In ancient times, when dense primordial mists swamped the glens and swirled about the mountains of the Celtic world—when giants and dragons dominated the earth—the council of gods decreed that nary a one among them, should take another as concubine.
The god Holly and the goddess Ivy could not deny the love blossoming between them and, hidden within a lush forest flanked by black sided mountains, became intimate lovers. When the god Oak discovered his longtime rival possessed a weakness in Ivy, he exposed to the other gods the location of the lovers’ trysts. The attack and resulting battle led to the capture of Holly and Ivy. In retribution for the lovers’ defiance against council edict, the couple was prosecuted and condemned. Ivy agreed to give up her godly powers and become mortal to save Holly from a more harrowing fate, if, and only if, they might be reunited when three couples of purest heart found forever love through time with their fated soul mate. The likelihood of such seemed impossible to Ivy, but she found solace in the chance of a future with Holly.
Devastated by his loss, Holly planted a berry-bearing holly tree within the forest he’d once enjoyed with Ivy, deep in the Black Hills of Scotland, so whenever Ivy saw the shiny green leaves and red berries, she would think of him and remember his commitment to their love.
Oak continued to challenge Holly during the equinoxes each year. Oak to reign from March through August. Holly for the remainder of the year. Although at his strongest on the winter solstice, Holly remained alone, missing his Ivy.
Lost in a world not her own, Ivy sought refuge amongst a band of humans to whom she taught the lessons of the gods. The people became known as the enlightened ones, or Druids. They worshiped the land and listened to the whispers of the wind—listened to words of wisdom about love, death, and rebirth. They celebrated light, and the winter solstice came to be a magical time, a time when the veil between the earth and the realms of the supernatural thinned.
To others, the solstice came to be both a festive and fearful time.
Upon Ivy’s death, the furtive Druids established and nurtured a garden surrounding the holly tree planted by Holly and named it the Garden of Truth. They have nurtured the garden through wars and famine and times of plenty and still care for the garden this day. From within the soul of the holly tree, magic blossoms and grows in power, gaining strength for Ivy’s rebirth.
Over the centuries, the legend of the Garden of Truth has been the subject of many tales—some true, some not—passed on by word of mouth and although often interpreted differently, the magic holds true for those possessing a pure heart. ’Tis said, if one gathers nine holly leaves and wraps them tight, using nine knots to bind them, and places them beneath their pillow, their dreams will come true.
From the Enchanted Highlands comes the first of three tales of time travel romance intertwined with the magic of the season and forever love—Twelvetide: Twelve Nights of Highland Magic.
Other books from the
Enchanted Highlands Holiday Collection:
Stars and Stones
By April Holthaus
Once Upon a Winter Solstice
By Victoria Zak
CHAPTER ONE
Fourteen years ago, Scotland
I want to go home!” She stomped a foot to get her aunt’s attention. Belinda wasn’t really her aunt. She just wanted to be. In reality, the wicked witch was Uncle Mike’s new girlfriend. Yuck!
“Don’t be difficult, Ashley. We’re not returning to the states until after New Year’s. We’re staying here at the Black Hills Hotel for Christmas. Your uncle and I are attending several parties in London on New Year’s Eve. It’s important for his career.” Belinda smiled—a fake kind of smile. “Please, be a good girl. This is the last house tour for today and then we can return to the hotel and meet your uncle for the winter solstice party. Won’t that be fun?”
“Santa won’t find me in that creepy hotel.” If only her parents hadn’t left her to become angels.
“Your presents will be waiting for you in Philadelphia. Besides, you’re such a big girl now that you’ve turned seven. Haven’t you stopped believing in good old St. Nick?”
“Don’t you dare say he doesn’t exist. There is a Santa!” Ashley hugged the stuffed bear with the blue coat, slouch hat, and battered suitcase she’d gotten at the train station before leaving London.
“Of course there is, wee lass.” Aileen, the tour guide, patted her arm, and Ashley stuck out her tongue at Belinda. “Okay, everyone, gather round, it’s time to start our tour.
Face pinched like a prune, the witch walked away.
“What’s through that gate?” Ashley pointed to a metal grille within a stone wall covered by half-dead vines and powdered snow.
Aileen glanced in the direction she pointed. “Ah. That’s the ancient garden. No one is allowed in there.”
“Why not?” Ashley edged closer to the gate, trying to see beyond the tattered ivy vines.
“Ach, ’tis cursed by dark magic.” Aileen’s eyes twinkled like a faerie’s in a movie on TV. “You never ken what will happen to those who enter.”
“Really?” Ashley squeezed the stuffed bear against her. Magic?
“Shall we get started before snow falls?” Aileen asked of the group. They ignored her and kept talking. “Ahem!” She clapped her hands. “The tour will begin now.” That got mostly everyone’s attention. “After we explore the house, we’ll walk one of the trails through the grounds to the pond. Even though the gardens aren’t in bloom, they’re lovely in their winter whites. Please, follow me.”
Aileen led the pack across the parking lot—car park, as she called it—to the front door. The collection of tourists who’d traveled north for Christmas traipsed behind. Belinda talked non-stop as she walked, trying to sell her catering services to a couple from New York. Ashley rolled her eyes and hung back, curious about what was behind the gate—a gate to an ancient garden and magic.
When the others entered the house and disappeared from sight, she dashed back along the stone wall to the ancient garden’s entrance, the bear dangling, clutched by one of its arms. She halted at the gate and glanced across the parking lot at the manor house door. No alarm sounded. No one searched for a missing child. Figured. She was often overlooked by adults.
Clenching the bear under an arm, she pushed on the metal grille with her other hand. The gate didn’t budge. Pshaw. She kicked the frame, stubbing a big toe. “Ouch!” Ashley hopped around on one foot then stalled. It didn’t really hurt. Belinda would tell her to stop being a drama queen. Fine. There must be a way to get the gate open. She pressed on the metal grille again. Stuck.
“Shoot!” She glared at the gate and what she could see of the garden. She refused to give up though. Shifting the bear so she wouldn’t drop it, Ashly picked up a branch from the ground and tried to pry the gate open, resulting in a big, fat nothing.
She stared at the house again, worried they’d noticed her gone. Nope. She pursed her lips. The door remained closed. No one was in the parking lot. Only silence beneath a bearded gray sky. No one cared about her.
A grinding squeal of metal made her exhale on a gasp and spin around. Eyes wide, she took a step forward. The gate rasped open by itself. Magic?
With a bounce on her heels, buoyed with excitement, compelled to see what was really on the far side of the stone wall, she gripped the cold metal and eased the gate farther then slipped through the opening. On the other side, she frowned. The garden looked like all the other winter-dead gardens they’d visited—ordinary. Her shoulders sagged. The tour guide must have lied about the magic.
Dragging her feet, she walked toward a snow-covered fountain that had been shut off for the winter, the leaping dolphins wrapped in clear plastic.
“A halfpence for your thoughts.”
Ashley jumped at the unexpected voice, almost dropping the bear. “How did you get here? I saw you go into the house with the others.”
The silver-haired woman who’d spoken looked like the tour guide yet…different. She wore a holly wreath with red berries on her head. And one would think she’d be cold in a thin white gown. “You must be referring to Aileen. She is but a shadow of me.”
“Then who are you?”
“One of the ancient ones—a bearer of light. I am also referred to by the name Aileen.” She waved an arm. “Is the garden as you imagined, wee lass?”
“No. It is not. The garden is supposed to be magical.”
“Oh, but it is. You will find what you seek under the large oak tree at the center of the holly maze.”
Ashley blinked. The maze hadn’t been there a moment before. She blinked again. Everything changed. She squinted against bright sunlight, the blue sky was now free of clouds. A warm breeze teased the loose hairs from her braid. Bees and other insects hummed around fragrant roses flanking a stepping stone path that led across a summer-green lawn to the maze.
The labyrinth drew her closer.
Come. Find what you seek.
“Who said that?” Ashley glanced from side to side, but the woman who sort of looked like Aileen had gone.
Overwarm from the sudden rise in temperature, Ashley threw off her wool coat, dropped it to the ground, and marched to the entrance of the maze. Once while on vacation with her parents, they’d gone to a farm to buy pumpkins and played hide and seek in a cornstalk maze. That was before the accident. She sniffled at the memory and blinked rapidly. Then darted into the maze.
The holly hedge was three times taller than she; the air within cooler. It smelled of summer and happier days, like when she’d gone on picnics with her parents. She raised her chin. She wouldn’t think about that today.
Hee-hee. Hee-hee. A peal of mischievous laughter burst within the maze. Ashley ran to the next turn and caught a glimpse of a boy as he scooted around a corner. She followed, but ended up at a split with paths leading left and right. Which way had he gone?
She hugged the bear to her chest. Another nearby giggle sent her scurrying to the right. The boy appeared, sunlight brightening a scruffy head of blond hair, then he disappeared again within the meandering hedges. He taunted and teased, peeking around corners then running away, luring her deeper and deeper into the twists and turns.
* * *
Present Day, Scotland
Wisps of childhood memories faded as the car door opened.
“We dinnae get many boarders this time of year, miss. Too cold. Most tourists stay at the hotel in the village and only join us for the holiday festivities at the manor house.” The fifty-something man with peppered hair offered a hand and assisted her from the hired car. “Ye must be Mistress Dumont. I be the caretaker.”
She shivered, she just couldn’t help herself. The air was rather chilly, but that wasn’t what made Ashley’s skin prickle. It was being back in the Black Hills of Scotland after so many years.
“The cottage does have heat?” she asked. The small stone building with its crumbling mortar and thatch roof looked cruder than she remembered.
“Oh, aye, and a verra nice fireplace.” He collected the luggage from the driver and, with a tilt of the head, directed her to the cottage door. She twisted the knob and entered a well-kept living room. Lovely. This would do nicely. She had no desire to stay at the hotel and deal with unpleasant memories of her uncle’s ex-wife.
Ashley dropped her wool coat and purse on the upholstered sofa done in the ancient red and green tartan of Clan Innes, which faced the large brick fireplace. “I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t catch your name.”
“I didn’t give it, lass.” He chuckled. “Durrell.”
“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Ashley didn’t know what else to say, always a tad awkward with strangers. That’s why she worked as a research librarian.
After a quick handshake, Durrell gripped the front doorknob then hesitated. “The bedroom and bath are through that door.” He pointed across the room. “Ye should have everything ye need. Linens and such. Dinner is served at the manor house at six-thirty. Hope you enjoy your stay.”
She hoped so too. “Thank you.”
After he left, Ashley dragged her large suitcase into the bedroom and heaved it onto the mattress, surprised to find a small fireplace in that room also. The accommodations would be comfortable enough, but that wasn’t of great importance. What mattered was tomorrow morning marked the winter solstice and she planned to stay for Twelvetide—the twelve days of Yule.
From the suitcase, she removed the well-worn stuffed bear and her jewelry box. With the bear propped against a pillow on the bed, Ashley lifted the lid to the jewelry b
ox with trembling fingers. The antique key lay nestled within the velvet lining.
Ignoring the rings and bracelets and other trinkets, she extracted the key and held the cool metal within a closed fist. She’d come to the Black Hills to meet her destiny.
CHAPTER TWO
Glasgow, Scotland, 1580
“Grab the lad and let us be done with this treacherous deed.”
Cael woke with a start, the raised voice coming from the passageway outside the closed bedchamber door jolting him to full wakefulness. He sat bolt upright. Lad? What treachery?
His cousin snored in the other bed, deep in drunken slumber, oblivious to potential danger. Cael slid the dagger he kept under the mattress for just such a predicament from its sheath. He flung his legs over the side of the bed, wishing he wore more than a leine. Knife in hand, he prepared to protect both himself and John, although sweat moistened his palm.
The door burst open, the heavy oak panel pounding against stone. Dim light bled into the chamber. Then shadowy figures filled the threshold.
John jerked awake and half rose from the bed. “What the—” His voice slurred, trailed off.
“There are two lads,” someone shouted.
“Needs be we take them both,” another said.
Two mountainous men dressed in dark garments bounded into the chamber. One dove on Cael, knocking him backward and pinning him to the mattress, a firm grip on the wrist holding the knife. “Drop the blade, lad.”
The other struggled with John. Cael couldn’t gauge how his cousin fared, consumed with the effort to keep from having his wrist broken. With an excruciating twist, the dagger fell from numb fingers to clatter across the stone floor.
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