Highland Mist

by Donna Grant

  His eyes stared hard into hers. “With the threat of your father, I must take precautions. Entering through the caves is one of them. It’s not very far to the other side.”

  She glanced over her shoulder at the yawning hole of shadows. “I’m not going in there,” she stated.

  “Aye, you will.”

  Gone was the soothing tone and in its place a voice hard as steel. There was nothing she could say to this man to change his mind, and she knew attempting to run would be stupid with her legs aching as they did.

  Her stomach clenched in apprehension. She shivered at the thought of all the spider legs that would be crawling on her. Fear seized her as its clutches wrapped themselves around her. Her body began to shake as she tried to see into the darkness.

  “I give you my word nothing will happen to you.”

  Strangely enough she knew he would try to protect her. She let him right her in the saddle and took hold of his hand, determined to act more courageous than she felt.

  “I’m going to hold you to that vow, MacInnes,” she said, and hoped she would be able to get his sword unsheathed before the first spider landed on her.

  He wrapped an arm around her waist and held her tight against him. Just before they reached the entrance to the cave he whistled, and Angus ran his horse to the front to take the lead.

  “If there’s anything in there it will get Angus first,” he whispered as they entered the darkness.

  She smiled at his jest while his breath warmed her neck and made her breasts tighten, temporarily setting aside the trembling. His arm, wrapped so snugly around her waist, touched the undersides of her breasts.

  Without the glorious Highland landscape to distract her, she grew conscious of every inch of her body that touched his. She sucked in her breath and closed her eyes as each new sensation swept violently through her.

  His long legs had rather handsome knees, if one could call knees handsome. Thick, muscular thighs helped to hold her securely onto the horse and molded her against a hardness that had been pressing into her back for some time now. Arms so solid, so strong she was sure they could fell an ancient oak with a simple push held her gently but firmly. Muscles in those mighty arms flexed as he moved the reins.

  A soldier behind them slapped at something and muttered about a bug. She tensed, expecting to feel hundreds of hairy legs swarming over her, but there was nothing. Nothing except Conall and his muscles.

  She forced herself to lean back against his shoulder before her head began to ache and was surprised to find his hand grazed her throat then moved to her cheek.

  “See. I told you there was nothing to fash yourself about,” he murmured into her ear.

  She smiled. He was an arrogant laird.

  “Ah. A smile. It’s good you trust me.”

  “You gave me your word and, despite what I should be feeling, I somehow know you’ll honor that vow.” She turned her head toward his, only to find her lips grazing his jaw sprinkled with a day’s growth of beard.

  The spiders were forgotten as she concentrated on the feel of his face against hers. His head moved slightly and she wished for some light, for she was sure it was his lips she felt for an instant against hers.

  “You are my prisoner, and while at my home I’ll protect you. I always protect what’s mine.”

  An ominous mood overtook her at his words, but she didn’t think more about them as they rode from the cave. Light blinded her as they emerged and she quickly covered her eyes with her hands. Cheers erupted around her at Conall’s safe return until his plaid fell away to expose her MacNeil plaid.

  The silence was deafening.

  She couldn’t look at the people staring at her with such open hostility so she looked around the bailey. To her left was the massive two-story gatehouse, flanked by two square towers, which projected outside the wall from what she could see. A stairway from the bailey led to the gatehouse. Two posterns, or secondary doorways, were visible in the curtain wall that formed a rectangular bailey.

  The curtain wall itself was made up of cut stones that made up the battlements of alternating solid parts and spaces, merlons and crenels they were called, but to her they looked like square teeth.

  To her right was the main castle itself, the chapel and the well where many of the occupants gathered. All in all it was a very impressive castle. Not just in its structure, but in its size.

  “The MacNeil set a trap,” Conall’s voice called out. “I know now that they’re responsible for Iona’s disappearance. I have MacNeil’s daughter until they return my sister.”

  Voices once again rose to praise their laird, but he wasn’t done. With one raised hand he silenced them.

  “Whatever we may feel for the MacNeils, I want no harm to befall Glenna. She’s under my protection until I return her.”

  Return me?

  That hadn’t been her plan, but then again she had put herself in Conall’s hands.

  To get to MacNeil, not to return me to him.

  Either she would have to convince Conall of another way to have Iona returned or she would have to escape from him. And she had a dreadful feeling that escaping from Conall wouldn’t be easy.

  She looked out over the MacInnes’ people as they stared back at her. Most were curious while others had hatred sparkling in their depths. She couldn’t blame them. If the positions were reversed, she would probably feel the same way.

  Coldness surrounded her when Conall dismounted. Without him behind her she felt vulnerable and suddenly very scared. She knew if she attempted to walk she would fall on her face, but she could not, and would not, tell him that as he reached for her. She had already acted the fool about the cave.

  She slid into his arms. Instead of being set on her feet, he began to walk to the castle with her in his arms. When she raised her eyes to his, she found him staring straight ahead, his jaw clenched.

  “Thank you,” she said, and focused on his plaid instead of the faces that watched her. She would survive this. She had made it through the caves. And who knew how many spiders had lain in wait for her?

  Once they entered the castle, she looked around to find it filled with beautiful, ornate tapestries as well as swords, shield, maces and other weapons. She longed to look around and explore everything. It was such a colorful and happy place compared to her home. And clean.

  She had grown up thinking a castle was meant to be dirty but had refused to let her own chamber, small as it was, be filthy. Now she knew it was simply her home that was dirty and not something that was commonplace.

  Conall’s steps didn’t slow as he turned and mounted the stairs. He stopped at the first landing and carried her down a hallway before entering a chamber.

  He walked to the bed and gently set her upon it. “Have a bath drawn immediately,” he said, and a servant Glenna hadn’t seen scurried away to do his bidding.

  “A bath?”

  “Your muscles are overtaxed. The heat from the water will soothe them.”

  Now she couldn’t wait for her aching body to slip into the scalding water. Maybe afterward she would be able to walk again. “Thank you.”

  “Why didn’t you want to go into the cave?”

  She had thought he had forgotten about her terror, but it seemed she had fooled herself once again. “It was nothing.”

  “It was most definitely something. Are you afraid of the dark?”

  “Nay,” she said hastily, and realized her mistake. It was better to say she was afraid of the dark instead of spiders.

  “Then what?” he prompted.

  “Nothing.” She stared at him, daring him to probe further. One corner of his mouth lifted in a smile.

  He nodded and turned to go but stopped at the chamber door. “I’ll have supper brought to you. I’m sure you’ve no wish to have everyone ogling you on your first night here.”

  And before she could express her gratitude, he was gone. She didn’t trust her legs to hold her to inspect the chamber so she waited for the bath, w
hich, thankfully, didn’t take long.

  Once the servants departed, she hastily disrobed and threw the MacNeil plaid onto the bed. She had to nearly crawl to the tub, but once she sank into the heated water, her muscles began to relax.

  The water and serenity, along with the bottle of wine that had been left beside the tube, put her at peace. She found herself drifting in and out of sleep with passionate silver eyes haunting her.

  * * * * *

  Conall opened the chamber door and halted in mid-stride. Glenna reclined in the wooden tub before the fire. Steam had drifted around her, moistening her skin, and the flames from the nearby fire set it aglow. Her hair was in a knot atop her head and several strands had escaped and now stuck to her neck and sides of her face.

  All he wanted was to get into the tub with her. He closed his eyes and took deep, calming breaths. But it didn’t help. That image was now burned in his memory.

  St. Myrtle’s hairy fingers.

  He looked at her again, her face turned toward him as she sighed and opened her eyes. If she was surprised to see him, she didn’t show it.

  For long moments they simply stared at each other, and all he could think of was the brief touch of their lips in the cave. It had been an accident, but one that had scalded him to his very soul.

  “Laird.”

  Her voice, husky from the relaxing water and sleep stirred his body. Then he saw the empty ewer of wine and realized why she wasn’t screaming at him for seeing her in her bath.

  He should feel grateful to whatever servant had left the wine, but right now he needed a strong drink himself. Finally he found his voice. “The water is improving your legs?”

  “Aye. Although I don’t think I’ll be able to walk for another sennight,” she said, a grin pulling at the corner of her lips.

  “Do I need to carry you to bed?” As soon as the words left his mouth he saw himself doing just that, but he didn’t leave her to sleep. He made love to her.

  Mine, a voice said. He shook his head and pushed the voice aside.

  Her soft laughter floated around the room. “I think I could sleep right here if only the water would stay hot.”

  This conversation was getting out of control, but apparently he was the only one who thought so. He turned his gaze to the floor. “I just came to see how you were faring.”

  “You shouldn’t be in here. Not while I’m at my bath.”

  Finally a sane thought. “I wondered if the wine had sped common sense from you.”

  She laughed again, the sound bringing a small tilt to his own lips. “I’ve never drank so much wine before, and I don’t think I shall again. I’m fairly certain I should be demanding that you leave immediately.”

  “And why aren’t you?” What devil prodded him to ask that he would never know, but now that it was asked, he wanted to know the answer.

  She sighed and put a hand to her forehead. “It doesn’t matter,” she said, her eyes leaving his, but not before he saw the desolation.

  He wanted the mischievous grin back, but he had a feeling she was sobering rapidly.

  “Am I to be kept in this room?”

  He raised his eyes to find her gaze on him. “If I wanted to imprison you, I’d have put you in the dungeon. I’m not a monster.”

  “I know. I simply wanted to know of your plans.”

  He shrugged and ran his hand through his hair. “I haven’t thought about it really, but I don’t plan to confine you to this chamber.”

  “What if I told you I wanted to explore outside the castle walls?” she asked, and leaned up.

  For a moment he forgot to breathe, forgot her question, forgot everything except the water that beaded on her heated skin and rolled down her bare neck and shoulders. He wanted to follow those droplets with his tongue and nibble her skin while she squirmed beneath him.

  He blinked and focused back on her face. “If you want to explore, then I’ll take you.”

  A bright smile illuminated her face. “Really?”

  “Aye.”

  “Would it be sacrilege if I said I didn’t want to be returned to MacNeil?”

  “No one wants to be returned to a monster, even if that monster is one’s father.”

  She pulled her knees up and wrapped her slender arms around her legs. “You have much hatred for MacNeil. Tell me what he’s done.”

  “You’ll learn a lot about your clan while here.” His body burned hotter with every inch of skin exposed. He didn’t know how much longer he could stand there without yanking her from the tub and tasting her.

  “Clans are always at each other’s throats and stories get distorted.”

  “We don’t lie,” he ground out between clenched teeth. He couldn’t blame her. He had been thinking the same thing. Still it stung.

  “All I know is this feud has gone on for generations. Who even knows how it began?”

  “I know,” he said, and watched her eyes grow round. “As you’ll soon find out. Your father took the feud to a new level when he became laird.”

  “How?”

  He heard the fear in her voice, but he couldn’t stop the truth from leaving his lips.

  “He isn’t called a butcher for nothing.”

  Glenna sat back in the water after Conall departed and thought over his words. Her mind buzzed with questions about her father and clan, but she really didn’t want to know. If what Conall said was true, then it was no wonder his clan had such hatred for her.

  The peace of the water eluded her as her wine-addled brain sobered. She stepped out of the now-tepid water and quickly dried off. The heat of the fire kept the chill from sinking into her bones but not from her soul.

  What had prompted her to act like the wanton? She could blame it on the wine, but if she were honest, she would admit to liking the fire that kindled in Conall’s eyes.

  Now that the wine was wearing off, she was mortified at what she had done. When she turned back to the bed it was to find a simple white nightgown lying at the foot. She hobbled to the bed and wiggled into the gown.

  She had just sat down when she noticed a small blue jar sitting beside the bathtub. It hadn’t been there a moment ago. With a sigh she stood and slowly made her way back to the tub. With great effort she bent down and retrieved the jar. Once she was again seated, she opened it.

  Inside she found a brownish-colored cream. She sniffed and the smell of mint filled her senses. It was a healing cream she held, and there was only one thing wrong with her. With a shrug, she pushed up the hem of her gown and rubbed the cream into her legs.

  After her legs had been thoroughly doused with the cream, Glenna began to feel restless. It was a strange feeling since she was used to long periods in her chamber at home, but here it was different. Ever since she had left MacNeil Castle, she had had an unmistakable sense that there was magic surrounding this land.

  Whatever it was must be absent from her home. She chuckled, the sound bouncing off the walls in the chamber. She stood and found her legs didn’t ache as they had just a short while ago.

  The window beckoned and she peered outside. The night cascaded with stars as clouds fluttered across the moon’s path. A flash caught her attention. It was outside the castle walls in the forest. She strained to find it, and was about to give up when she saw it.

  It was a light so bright it shown white in its intensity. It wasn’t large, no larger than a man, but Glenna still couldn’t make out what it was.

  Magic, the night seemed to whisper.

  Aye, it was probably magic, for it had been magic that brought Iona to her and freed her from MacNeil. A special magic beat in the heart of Scotland, and she wondered why it was so strong here and nonexistent at MacNeil’s?

  Regardless, she was determined to find out what the white light was and delve deeper into the mystery of this magic land.

  * * * * *

  The two Druids stared at the castle. “Did it work?” the man asked. “Did she see?”

  “Aye, Frang,” the woman answe
red. “She’s come home at last.”

  They turned when the Fae being approached them. “You don’t have much time.”

  “Glenna will be ready, Aimery,” the woman stated.

  Aimery smiled. “Glenna already feels the magic here. She will come to you eagerly, Moira. Make sure she learns all that she needs to know for MacNeil will challenge her.”

  Frang shifted and peered again at the castle. “How much do you think we should tell her about her parents?”

  “Nothing,” Moira hurriedly answered. “Not yet.”

  “She needs to know,” Aimery said. “Without that knowledge, she cannot battle the evil.”

  “Then she will know,” Frang said, and put his hand on Moira’s shoulder.

  “Until next time,” Aimery said, and disappeared in a flash.

  “Moira,” Frang began, but she shook her head.

  “I don’t want her to know.”

  “She must,” Frang insisted. “The Fae know much more than we do. It’s they who bestowed Glenna her powers. Who are we to question them?”

  “Who indeed?” Moira repeated while she stared at the castle. “She watches us even now though she cannot see.”

  “She sees what the Fae want her to see.”

  Chapter Five

  The next day Conall strode into Glenna’s chamber and said in no uncertain terms, “You’ll spend the day by my side.”

  “By your side?” she asked stupidly when he handed her a simple yellow gown. “You’re laird and have many things to do. The last thing you need is to have me in the way.”

  “It’ll get your legs moving to work out the soreness, and my clan will become accustomed to seeing you.”

  She opened her mouth to protest but quickly closed it.

  He raised a black eyebrow. “Have you something to say?”

  Her throat tightened. Would he punish her as MacNeil did for speaking her mind? It was a chance she wanted, nay needed, to take. With her heart in her throat, she said boldly, “I’d prefer to spend the day in my chamber.”