Mael: Immortal Highlander, Clan Mag Raith Book 2

by Hunter, Hazel

  “Is that…Mael?”

  He heard Jenna’s voice as if from a great distance, but paid it no heed. Holding Rosealise to his heart and feeling the roar of pain billowing in his chest became his universe. When someone touched him, he jerked away, protecting his lady with his body hunched over hers. But finally he let out the howl of grief, and felt the stones shake behind his back.

  Something cool caressed his face, but this time it didn’t feel wet. It felt like Rosealise’s touch. The lips that brushed against his tasted of his lady.

  He’d gone mad, Mael decided, almost relieved by the prospect. He felt sorry for the Mag Raith, who would have to end him. That, or he’d spend the rest of eternity holding a corpse and believing it alive.

  “I would never be so bold as to kiss a stranger,” a brisk voice said, whispering warm breath against his cheek. “Yet I believe I know you quite well, my dear sir. We do seem to have cause to be naked together on this occasion.”

  Mael opened his eyes to see hers sparkling with life in a face made rosy by a blush. The rain had washed away the blood from her skin, and when she took a breath it sounded deep and effortless.

  “You live,” he managed to say. He wanted to roar with joy, but then he saw the confusion in her eyes. Did she remember him, or had she gone back to the lady she’d been in the maze? “Do you ken me, lass?”

  She inspected his face leisurely. “Yes, I do. You’re Mael mag Raith.” Her lips curved. “The man I love.”

  He cradled her face in return, and kissed her from her mouth to her brow and back again. “Thank the Gods. They brought you back to me.”

  “So it would seem. Why are we sitting in this tower?” Her gaze shifted up. “And why does it look like it’s exploded around us?”

  “Sorry to interrupt.” A hand extended through a gap in the stones, and held out Mael’s tartan along with another he didn’t recognize. “Could you maybe put these on and come out of there before my head explodes?”

  The strain in Jenna’s voice had Mael helping Rosealise up to wrap her in his tartan. He then draped himself in the other before guiding her through the gap in the tower wall and into the passage that lead to his chamber. The floor, now covered in new timber, had been strewn with fresh, sweet-scented herbs. Overhead a new thatched ceiling stretched.

  Jenna, whose dark hair had been cropped close to her scalp, stood staring back at him. She wore a short gown made from a tartan that resembled Domnall’s, only much faded.

  “Where on earth have you two been?” she demanded.

  Mael frowned. “In the tower, as you ken. Why did you cut off your hair?”

  “I burned off most of it trying to find you. By the way, if you ever need me to walk through stone walls, five is now my hard limit.” She walked a short distance away from them, let out a loud whistle, and then returned. “Before the tower, where were you?”

  Rosealise shrugged and grimaced up at him. “I remember taking blankets to the buttery last night.”

  “I went there to look in on you. ’Tis all I remember.” He regarded Jenna, amazed to see tears in her eyes. “We didnae mean to worry you, my lady. Did we spring another trap?”

  “A trap?” She laughed, shook her head, and pressed the heels of her palms against her eyes before dropping them. “I don’t know what happened, but you both disappeared without a trace, and it wasn’t last night.”

  “’Twas three months past,” Domnall said as he came to stand beside his wife. “’Tis the middle of summer now, Mael.”

  Last night for him had been a change of seasons for his clan. Mael glanced back at the tower. “Mayhap you shouldnae go in there again.”

  “Forget the damn tower.” Jenna blinked hard and swiped at her eyes. “We thought you were dead. I even prayed to your lousy Gods. Out loud, where everyone could hear me.”

  “I believe I was deceased, just a moment ago.” Rosealise glanced down and moved aside a fold of Mael’s tartan to expose her thigh. The Sluath brand on it had turned golden. “Dun Chaill works its magic again.”

  Broden came in behind Domnall, stumbled and nearly fell on his face. Edane helped him up as he stared, slack-jawed. To Mael both looked darker and leaner, and the archer had taken to wearing his hair in a single braid. Kiaran was the last to arrive, wearing a smith’s heavy leather apron and sporting on his shoulder a fledgling kestrel.

  “By the Gods,” the falconer said, paling. “Jenna, you must pray for me.”

  The chieftain’s wife uttered a tearful sob as she came and embraced Rosealise, and Domnall did the same to Mael. Then the rest of the hunters demanded the same, with more thanks to the Gods for their blessings.

  Chapter Forty

  ONCE THEY HAD borrowed suitable garments, Mael escorted his lady out to the great hall, which now contained more furnishings, better ceilings, and iron grates guarding the fireplaces. That so much work had been accomplished made it evident that the Mag Raith had not spent their time in mourning, but Mael glimpsed the changes pain had wrought in his brothers and sister as well. They all seemed quieter and yet closer, with the most marked change in Broden and Edane, who chided each other as siblings instead of rivals.

  “We’ve done much to the keepe since you vanished,” Domnall said. “We kept your chamber as ’twas, Seneschal, but we use the buttery for storage of milk, cream, and eggs.”

  The Englishwoman grinned. “I don’t mind sharing with Mael.”

  Mael folded his hand over hers. “You’re trading for dairy now?”

  “We discovered Wachvale abandoned at the start of summer,” the chieftain said. “They burned the dwellings and took everything of value, so ’twas likely plague. We brought the livestock left behind here to tend them, so we keep cows, sheep, pigs, and even some chickens.”

  “I’ve rebuilt the castle’s forge,” Kiaran said, and stroked the tiny head of the fledgling. “Dive hatched another brood, so we’ve now nine hunters. They dinnae care for the chickens.”

  “You look well, my lady,” Edane said to Rosealise. “I see no sign of your affliction.”

  “I believe I’m cured, sir.” She touched the base of her throat. “I feel exactly as I did before I fell ill.” She breathed in and out deeply, as if to prove it.

  “You’re immortal now,” Jenna told her. “I should know, I’ve got the matching ink in gold. Something transformed you.”

  “Dun Chaill,” Broden put in. “Just as it did you, my lady.”

  The archer shook his head. “They came back naked.”

  Mael understood his meaning, and put his arm around Rosealise. “You reckon that we returned from the underworld.”

  “With no memory of the place, as before.” Edane gave his lady a sympathetic look. “At least you yet remember your time at Dun Chaill, and among the Mag Raith.”

  “I do recall who I was in my time,” Rosealise told him. “A very lonely woman facing a slow, terrible decline. I had only my work, and even that was stolen from me.”

  “I take it you’re not anxious to go back?” Jenna asked.

  “I’ve been given a second chance to live and be with a man I adore.” Rosealise looked around at them. “I hope, too, to be a part of this clan, as you’ve become like my family. There is no place I’d rather be than here and now.”

  “You’ll have to wed me,” Mael told her sternly. “’Tis the only manner in which you may become Mag Raith.”

  “Well, except for how we awoke in the enchanted forest and–” Kiaran winced as Broden slapped the back of his head. “I’m mistaken. ’Tis as Mael says.”

  Rosealise smiled. “I accept your offer, sir, but for love, not your name.”

  “In my time women can keep our own surnames, you know,” Jenna said, and chuckled as Domnall glared at her. “But I like Mag Raith, too.”

  “So ’tis settled.” Mael stood, and with his lady’s hand in his fist held out his arm. “Mag Raith gu bràth.”

  His brothers and sister made a wheel of their arms, holding their fists together at the
center.

  Domnall covered their fists with his hand. “Mag Raith gu bràth.”

  Sneak Peek

  Edane (Immortal Highlander, Clan Mag Raith Book 3)

  Excerpt

  CHAPTER ONE

  A FINE MIST of rain greeted Edane mag Raith as he led his restless chestnut gelding out of the stable. He flipped his tartan over the quiver and bow at his shoulder to keep both dry. The storm rushed over Dun Chaill in a vast river of gray cloud, parting now and then to allow brief flashes of daylight. They came from the sun, now as a golden bauble surfacing and submerging in the roiling tempest.

  Aye. He felt the storm reaching inside him, stirring the change that came only with the wind and rain. Take me with you.

  Domnall mag Raith came to join him, and surveyed the skies with his shrewd verdant eyes. Tall, broad and heavily muscled, the chieftain dwarfed all but one of his clan.

  “I’d ride with you,” Domnall said, “but I vowed to Jenna I’d finish the bath chamber today.”

  “’Tis a patrol of the boundary. Likely the Gods shall but give me and the nag a good wash.” Edane swung up onto the gelding, and scanned the storm once more before regarding the chieftain. “Yet if they drop a naked lass in my lap, I’ll be longer away.”

  Domnall grinned and stepped back. “Then I bid you fair hunting, Brother.”

  The gelding went still as Edane let the storm transform him. Each time he had made the change he imagined he’d feel accustomed to it, but the electric thrill of becoming lighter than air still sizzled through his veins. Brilliant light engulfed him as he touched his heels to the horse’s sides, and his mount surged forward. A moment later the gelding’s hooves left the ground as they soared up into the clouds.

  Edane and the other Mag Raith had quickly learned that their ability to fly came only with a storm. During their first ascent, while battling the Sluath, they had been astounded to discover they could fight their enemy in the air. The winged underworld demons that had long ago enslaved the five hunters had apparently given them the ability, along with other bewildering alterations. The Mag Raith no longer aged or grew sick, and even the gravest wounds they sustained healed rapidly. Each hunter also had a particular power beyond that of an ordinary mortal. How and why the demons had bestowed such gifts remained a mystery, for the Sluath had also stripped the hunters of their memories.

  Edane still resented many things the Sluath had done to him and his brothers, but not this. Flying through the lashing rain and howling wind made him feel as he did with a bow in his hands: strong and sure.

  Now looking down on the sprawling walls and towers of Dun Chaill, a sense of accomplishment added to Edane’s elation. Left to rot for centuries, the castle had been in ruins when the Mag Raith had arrived to claim it. After the many months he and his clan had spent rebuilding and restoring the keepe, it was beginning to look more like a proper stronghold.

  The feel of nearby magic sparkled against his flesh and drew Edane’s attention back to the air before him, where he could see the shimmer of the looming spell boundary. He didn’t know who had placed the protective enchantment around Dun Chaill and the surrounding forests, but the ancient spell caster had been very powerful. The ward had protected the ruins so closely that not even the smallest insects could cross the spell barrier.

  But the Sluath may.

  He remembered the lone scout that had attacked the stronghold during another storm. Domnall had slain the demon before it could summon the rest of its infernal horde, but the suddenness of the attack had prompted the chieftain to begin storm patrols.

  The mist below Edane parted, and he frowned as he spotted a pale figure running through the tall grasses of the glen. The only mortals near Dun Chaill had burned and abandoned their village in the spring after what Domnall surmised was an outbreak of plague. This one appeared to be a lad, perhaps left behind to die but now recovered.

  His gaze shifted to the flashing light in the clouds behind the boy, from which a Sluath demon descended. Since the demons preyed on mortals left alone and vulnerable, his pursuit could mean only one fate for the lad.

  As Edane urged his mount to descend, he reached back to fling aside his tartan as he drew an iron-tipped arrow from his quiver, even as he let his bow slide down into his fist.

  “You’ll no’ steal this one, you fack.”

  #

  If the gorgeous goon with the wings grabbed her, Nellie Quinn knew she’d be cut down like cheap hooch. She’d figured that out the minute she’d eyeballed him swooping in from the clouds, all icy claws and teeth.

  “Rebel slut,” the goon had hissed. “You’ll make a fine prize for our prince.”

  Whatever big cheese he worked for, Nellie knew he was some kind of button man, so she ran. Now a Robin Hood riding the sky on a horse was coming at her from the other direction, a bow in his hand.

  “Oh, swell.”

  She swerved away, ducking as she did. She heard a whistle and glanced back to see Robin clip the goon with three arrows, one after another, so fast she only saw them hit.

  The goon screeched and nearly fell to the ground. Black stuff splashed from his wings as he flapped and lunged back up to disappear into the clouds. Nellie promptly tripped and fell, pain streaking up from her ankle as she flopped into a puddle.

  I’m done running.

  She rolled over and let the rain wash the mud from her face. The rest of her got a good, cool dousing, too, which was when she realized she was in the altogether. She pushed herself up on her elbows to be sure, and saw Robin Hood running toward her.

  Nellie should have tried to crawl off, but she was too busy enjoying the show. Golly, but he was handsome. Wet scarlet hair poured around a Valentino face. He had eyes so blue they should have been July sky. All that long, keen body made her hands itch to pet him. The only thing she didn’t like were the weird black tattoos on his right arm. Something about them made her want to spit.

  He can cover them up, Nellie thought, enchanted.

  “Lad, arenae you–”

  As he got close, he stopped and stared at her bare peaches and kitty.

  Not that she had much fruit or fur to show, she thought, and then chuckled with relief. She had what she had, and the goon didn’t have her, and that was jake, all because of Robin.

  “Not a fella,” she said. To show she still had some manners, she held out her hand. “Nellie Quinn. Thanks for drilling that goon. Thought for a minute there I was headed for the big sleep.”

  “My name’s Edane mag Raith.” Rather than shake, he tugged the wet green and black blanket from his shoulders and knelt down to cover her with it.

  Delighted to have him so close, Nellie curled a hand around his neck, and tugged him forward to give him a quick kiss. He tasted like rain and man, and he smelled even better, so she went back for another, longer try. Oh, what she’d give for a room and a bed and all the time in the world with Edane. He kept his eyes open like hers, but after a bit she realized he wasn’t kissing her back.

  No point getting stuck on a fella who didn’t want her. With a sigh she broke it off.

  “Why did you that?” he asked, his breath caressing her lips.

  “You saved me.” She traced a finger across his pretty mouth. He sure did talk funny, but he was just too sheik for her not to crush on. “So, you got a squeeze back at your joint, or can a girl hope?”

  He blinked. “The demon didnae chase you from Wachvale.”

  “Don’t know. I came to, saw the flash and claws, and heard him say something about a prize and a prince. I skedaddled.” Strange things flashed through her mind as she wrapped his drippy plaid around her and sat up. “Feeling a bit out on the roof here, Danny. Give me a hand up?”

  “No’ Danny,” he said. “Edane.”

  “Right.” Boy, was he a stickler. As soon as Edane took hold of her, the images faded. Instead Nellie felt something like a hot kiss on the back of her neck, and swiped at it. “Hey, that smarts.” She traced the heated marks with her fi
ngertips. “Like something burned me.”

  Edane stepped behind her, removed her hand, and then made a funny sound. A moment later he came around again, and looked at his arm before he met her gaze.

  “You’re marked by the Sluath.”

  “Yeah, sure.” She smiled. “What’s a Sluath?”

  • • • • •

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  Glossary

  Here are some brief definitions to help you navigate the medieval world of the Clan Mag Raith series.

  aquila: Latin for “eagle”, the standard of a Roman legion

  aulden: medieval slang for "archaic"

  bairn: child

  Banbury tale: Victorian slang for a nonsensical story

  bannock: a round, flat loaf of unleavened Scottish bread

  bloodwort: alternate name for yarrow

  bloomers: Victorian word for "trousers"

  blue-stocking: Victorian slang for “intellectual”

  boak: Scottish slang for “vomit”

  borage: alternate name for starflower (Borago officinalis)

  broch: an ancient round hollow-walled structure found only in Scotland

  burraidh: Scots Gaelic for “bully”

  cac: Scots gaelic for “shit”

  chebs: Scottish slang for “breasts”

  conclave: druid ruling body

  Cornovii: name by which two, or three, tribes were known in Roman Britain

  cossetted: cared for in an overindulgent way

  cottar: an agricultural worker or tenant given lodgings in return for work