Twelvetide: Twelve Nights of Highland Magic

by Dawn Marie Hamilton

  Before she’d a chance to argue with the damn man, he lifted her with his one strong arm, and dropped her into a ditch at the side of the trail. Breathless, gasping, she rolled to her knees and gulped air. Fear gnawed at her belly. The thunder of several horses pounding the trail, sent her into action. She leapt to her feet and darted into the trees Cael had indicated.

  She crouched behind a wide trunk. Just in time. Placing a palm against the rough bark, she leaned to the side and peeked through the thick, evergreen foliage. Four riders passed in earnest pursuit of Cael somehow without seeing her footprints in the snow.

  Shit! Where was the fifth? Birds had stopped chirping when she entered the copse. Silence grated on tense nerves. Twigs snapped nearby. The billowing breath of a horse sounded overly loud, close. Another twig cracked.

  “I ken you are in there. Come out.”

  The man’s boots passed within her vision. Too close.

  She leapt to her feet and ran in the opposite direction. A snow-covered branch slapped the side of her face, wetting her, as she rounded a large fir. Ashley gritted her teeth, reached deep within for strength, and darted through the trees.

  Breaking out of the firs, she raced through a hardwood grove, blind to a destination. The sound of her pursuer’s heavy stride followed. Damn him to hell; where could she hide?

  “I will catch you, wench. ’Tis only a matter of time,” the man taunted.

  Losing steam, Ashley burst from the woods and slipped and slid down a snowy hill. She fell hard to her knees. When she raised her gaze, the grinning man stood over her, a sword pointed at her chest.

  She never planned on this kind of trouble when she agreed to go back in time. What had she been thinking? Ashley had thought they’d take a quick trip to the past. Save Cael’s soul. Then they’d both return to the future, where they would live happily-ever-after.

  She raised her chin, pretending boldness. “What do you want with me?” Her voice quivered, dammit.

  He yanked her to her feet then grabbed the edge of the tartan and tore it from her shoulders. His lecherous gaze traveled the length of her body. “You are a comely wench. Wish I had time to sample your wares.”

  She took a step back, ready to bolt again. He grasped her arm. She struggled to break the hold. Kicked him in the shins. Screamed. Stomped on his foot. He grunted and dragged her up the hill back toward the woods and his horse.

  She tried to dig in with her heels, but slid on the snow.

  Horse hooves hammered the earth growing louder than the racing beat of her heart. Were the other riders returning? Had they captured Cael? Killed him?

  She increased the effort to break free. The man let go and she slid, falling into the snow. He continued up the hill without her. Before she could rise, two horses carrying tartan-clad, sword-wielding men galloped past. What the hell? She snapped her gaping mouth shut.

  Several riders encircled Ashley. One, a very large redheaded man, dropped from a huge black horse and extended a hand. “Have nae fear, lad. You are under the protection of Clan MacLachlan.”

  Relief easing the knot in her stomach, she accepted his assistance to stand and stared into dark, piercing blue eyes.

  He chuckled. “My apologies, lass. Dressed as you are, I mistook you for a lad. But the beauty of your face gives you away. There must be an interesting tale in that.”

  A number of throats were cleared as if the other men tried not to laugh.

  The redhead bowed. “Lachlan Og of Castle Lachlan at your service.”

  “Are you the clan chief?”

  “I am.”

  “Caelan Innes is being chased north by more riders.” She gripped the man’s arm without thought and felt a ripple of muscle beneath her palm. “They mean to kill him.”

  “How many men?”

  “Four plus the one who just ran into the woods.”

  “That one is of nae importance.”

  With the ease of experience, Lachlan Og mounted and, again, extended an arm. “Come. I will not leave you here to fend for yourself.”

  He swung her up behind him. She wrapped her arms around his waist and held on for dear life as the ground raced past beneath the fleet animal’s hooves.

  * * *

  Gusting wind blew the hair from Cael’s face and made his eyes water. The race across the moor took him farther and farther from the woman who’d come to mean much to him. Did he love her?

  He jerked a glance over a shoulder. Shite! Only four riders remained in pursuit. One must have fallen behind to search for Ashley. He prayed the lass had found a good hiding place and stayed put.

  Cael outpaced the four, at least for now. His plan had been to outrun them and circle back for Ashley. He no longer had the luxury of time.

  Urging the horse to the crest of a knoll—a good place to make a stand—he jerked hard on the reins and they skidded to a halt. The spirited stallion reared, but Cael managed to keep his seat. He reined the horse around and faced the oncoming riders.

  Cael yanked the sword from its sheath at the side of the saddle. He hardened his jaw. Set his resolve. There was no time to waste. Failure not an option. He must dispatch these men and return to Ashley’s aid.

  The first rider came at him. The clang of steel against steel jarring. The man was a good rider but poor swordsman, and Cael easily sent him to his maker. The second challenged Cael’s strength yet he went the way of the first. Breathing hard, Cael faced the two remaining. They circled, and he and the horse pirouetted. Doubt in his ability to overpower them both rose its ugly head. Hesitation would mean his death.

  The heavy pounding of approaching horses distracted one of the men. Cael seized the opportunity to cross blades with the other. He’d worry about the newcomers once this one lay dead. They were evenly matched until Cael’s wound started to throb, weakening him. His opponent’s sword sliced his arm.

  Cael glanced at the blood then raised his gaze to his opponent’s wide eyes and the sword protruding from the man’s chest. Raging with battle lust, it took Cael a moment to recognize the newcomers as MacLachlans. Still, he didn’t lower his guard.

  “Who is in command?” he demanded of the nearest warrior.

  “The chief rides on our heels.”

  Cael stared across the moor, where three horses galloped toward them. A large black stallion carried two riders. One rider definitely more feminine than the other. Ashley. Relief swamped him. But how? She couldn’t have made it to Castle Lachlan and back with Lachlan Og and his men in such a short time.

  The warrior beside him chuckled. “She is a feisty one. Put up a valiant fight against her attacker. Gave us the time we needed to ride to her defense. Since the lads who went after the reprobate ride at the chief’s side, I would guess he will not bother the lass again.”

  Thank the good Lord. But there would be others. She wasn’t safe traveling with him.

  The horses halted and Lachlan Og dismounted then assisted Ashley to her feet.

  “You’re bleeding again.” She hurried to Cael’s side.

  “’Tis a mere scratch.”

  She lunged into his arms and locked her mouth on his in an open-mouthed kiss that stole all thought.

  “Ahem.” Lachlan Og cleared his throat.

  They ended the kiss. Tucking Ashley into his side, Cael faced his mentor.

  With the toe of a booted foot, Lachlan Og rolled over one of the dead men on the ground. “Do you ken these men, Caelan?”

  “Nae. The mercenaries have tracked us from the Black Hills through Campbell country.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I fear I have brought trouble to your door.”

  Lachlan Og grasped his upper arm. “Nae worries, lad. Though you are not a MacLachlan by birth, you have been one of us for the past four years. We protect our own.”

  “I thank you.” Cael’s voice cracked with emotion.

  “And that extends to your new wife.” Lachlan Og indicated Ashley and raised a brow in question. When Cael didn’t offer more, Lachlan Og continued,
“I understand from your wife you were shot three days past. Do you ken who wants you dead?”

  “I think I do.”

  “I smell an interesting tale.” Lachlan Og held up a hand before Cael could speak. “First, we ride to the castle, where you will seek out the healer, and then, with your wife, join me and Catherine for the Yule festivities and enlighten us of the sordid details.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Ashley sat before a polished metal mirror in the bedchamber assigned to her and Cael. She ran nervous fingers over the fabric of her gown, a beautiful silk brocade of gold with tiny flowers in shades of rose, yellow, and white, enjoying the tactile sensation of luxury. She’d often dreamt of attending masked balls, adorned in gowns of lush fabrics, on the arm of her dream lover—always Cael.

  Historical research and romance novels just couldn’t be as grand as reality. This wasn’t exactly a ball…still, she moistened parched lips, anxious for the festivities to begin.

  Catherine, the wife of the clan chief, loaned her the gown and other clothing the woman claimed was required of her station as Cael’s wife. Ashley doubted she should be wearing anything so grand. Besides, she wasn’t really his wife. Guilt marred the experience. She hated lying. Especially to a woman as sweet as her hostess.

  With a sigh, her gaze swept the cozy room, landing on the four poster bed draped in green velvet and furs where she’d sleep tonight with Cael. Ten more nights—all that remained to learn how to save his soul. But how?

  The burden weighed heavy, adding more tension to already frazzled nerves. She’d use tonight as a distraction. A much-needed diversion.

  The assigned maid finished arranging Ashley’s brown hair into braided loops and handed her a glittery gilt mask. Thankfully, the mask covered the yellowing bruise on her cheek from the branch that slapped her face. Why had the men wanted to kill Cael? He hadn’t shared the reason. Should that be of concern?

  As the maid departed, Catherine bustled into the room, wearing a gleaming gown of silver satin, the matching mask rimmed with white feathers. “You look lovely. Shall we join the festivities, my dear?”

  Catherine’s inviting smile pleased Ashley.

  “Thank you, but I thought Caelan would escort me.”

  Catherine shrugged. “After the men bathed and dressed, they entered Lach’s study and have not emerged.” The woman’s eyes lit with mischief. “There is nae reason we cannot enjoy the Yule festivities without them. Aye? There are musicians, jugglers, and magicians in attendance for our entertainment.”

  Tonight promised to be fun. A dream come true. Ashley would worry about her and Cael’s future another time. Live for the moment, as they say. She smiled at her hostess and rose from the chair.

  Descending the claustrophobic circular stair in a long gown proved a challenge, but she managed without looking too much the fool. As they strolled a passageway, the roar of revelry amplified. They entered chaos personified.

  Boisterous masked men draped in colorful tartan clinked large mugs in comradery. Richly gowned women wearing dazzling masks, bejeweled goblets in hand, chatted in small groups, while shouting children darted between the adults, roving entertainers, and linen-draped tables.

  Ashley followed Catherine through the throng to a table set on a dais above the others. As soon as they sat, goblets of wine appeared before them delivered by a young boy.

  “Look there.” Catherine pointed toward the doorway. “Here come our men.”

  Cael strode the oak flooring at Lachlan Og’s side, looking more handsome than a Highlander romance novel cover model, stealing her breath with his virile presence. His panther-like saunter.

  * * *

  An hour earlier

  “Did the healer ease your suffering?” Lachlan Og waved Cael into the man’s private study.

  “Aye. He used a poultice on my wounds and forced a foul tasting draught down my throat. I believe I will live.” No thanks to his kin or whoever ordered the mercenaries to track and kill.

  “You will heal better for his efforts.” Lachlan Og clapped his shoulder. “Please sit and enjoy a whisky with me before we join our wives for the festivities. I thought, perhaps, we should talk in private away from gossipmongers’ ears.”

  “I hope you will not think too poorly of me for I must confess, Ashley is not my wife.”

  Both of Lachlan Og’s brows rose.

  “’Tis a long tale,” Cael confided.

  The chief of Clan MacLachlan held up his glass of whisky. “We have time.”

  Cael spoke of the fire, the trip north to the Druid glen, the men he thought bandits, and the gunshot, and about waking to Ashley’s concerned amber gaze. Lachlan Og nodded at the speculation Cael’s kin were likely behind the dastardly events. When he shared Ashley’s outrageous tale of being from the future, Lachlan Og grinned then nodded for him to continue. Cael ended the tale with the quest given to Ashley to save his soul—as if he deserved to be saved—and the unknown sacrifice he was expected to make.

  “At first, I feared her involved. Now, well…perhaps she is a wee daft.”

  The men sipped their whisky in silence.

  Lachlan Og rubbed a forefinger over his mouth. “You have heard the whispers spoken in darkened shadows about my wee man, the brùnaidh, the MacLachlan Clan brownie?”

  “Aye, but—”

  “He is verra real. Although quiet of late, he bears fealty to me and nae other. Well, mayhap, Munn promised his troth to the fae queen years ago, but she and I are in accord.”

  “What are you saying, Lachlan Og?”

  “There are many unusual occurrences associated with Castle Lachlan and Clan MacLachlan. Dinnae doubt the power of magic. ’Tis not the work of the devil as the new religions teach, but of forces of nature, both benevolent and dark, more powerful than our primitive knowledge allows us to understand. Perhaps you should trust Ashley and heed her sage counsel.”

  “I dinne ken what to think.” Cael scrubbed a hand over his face, frustrating confusion furrowing his brow.

  “Dinnae frown so hard, lad. Take this night to reflect on the possibilities. Come…” Lachlan Og rose. “Let us join the women and enjoy the Yule festivities.”

  Upon entering the council chamber at Lachlan Og’s side, Cael scanned the crowd for Ashley. When his gaze landed on the golden beauty seated with Catherine, his heart stuttered within his chest then pounded a hearty tattoo. Curse the devils who’d tracked them. He could have lost her this day.

  He strode across the oak floor, blinded to all others. He wanted to steal her away and kiss her until all he kenned was her scent and the feel of her body. Lachlan Og cleared his throat in warning before joining his wife. She murmured near his ear.

  “Sit by your wife, Caelan, I must order the feasting begin,” Lachlan Og said.

  Catherine clapped her hands in delight. “Do hurry, husband.”

  Cael sank into the seat and clasped Ashley’s hand beneath the table. Whether she was from the future or not. Damaged in the head or not. His savior or not. He wanted her as no other.

  You dinnae deserve a wife.

  He ground his teeth. Annoyed by the unwanted reminder.

  “Is anything wrong?” Ashley asked in a whisper.

  “Nae.” He forced a smile. “You look verra comely. The gown highlights the gold of your eyes, or what I can see of them peeking from behind the glittery mask.”

  She chuckled, a very husky, feminine chuckle, which rumbled deep within the center of his chest. He imagined a charming blush colored Ashley’s cheeks, for her eyes shimmered.

  Lachlan Og stood. A murmur swept the crowd before they quieted. “During this time of Yule, we honor the beginning of the sun’s return and the breaking of winter. Let this evening’s feasting begin.”

  The chief of Clan MacLachlan sat and waved forward a serving ghillie with a flagon of wine. More ghillies appeared bearing heavy trays laden with food.

  “You clean up quite nice,” Ashley leaned close and teased.

  “Thank y
ou, wife.”

  Her features grew solemn. “Will there be trouble if they learn we aren’t wed?”

  “Nae. I have explained to Lachlan Og the reasons we contrived the tale. He does not look poorly upon us.” Ashley glanced at Catherine. “Neither will Lady MacLachlan when she learns the truth.”

  “That’s a relief.” Ashley tilted her mask to the side and smiled.

  “How did you get that bruise?”

  She touched her cheek. “When I ran from the man in the forest, a branch slapped my face.”

  Cael growled. “I wish I could kill the men again for causing you pain.”

  Ashley frowned, likely uncomfortable with such brutality. Could she really be from another time? A gentler time? A time when a soul could travel without weapons?

  “It doesn’t hurt and the mark will fade with time.”

  “We were lucky Lachlan Og and his men had been patrolling the border.”

  Cael followed Ashley’s glance to The MacLachlan and groaned when she bit her lip. Her gaze flipped back to him. “You don’t think they had anything to do with the attack, do you?”

  “Lachlan Og and his men?” He leaned back in surprise and adamantly shook his head. “Nae.”

  “Oh, good. I feel safe here.”

  “I am glad. No one will harm you within the walls of Castle Lachlan.”

  The evening passed in gaiety with good food and good company. As he and Ashley finished a dance, he whirled her toward the passageway. “Let us be for bed going.”

  Mischief lit her eyes, and the arousal he’d sported most of the evening stiffened.

  In the bedchamber, Ashley jounced on the edge of the bed. Cael joined her, and she pecked his cheek. “I’ve had such a wonderful time tonight.”

  “I am glad. May every night of Yule bring the same happiness.” He swallowed uneasily hating to bring her joy to an end, but he couldn’t sleep beside her for another night without her kenning the truth about him. “I dinnae wish to mar your joy, but I think we need to speak of the night we first met.”