by Ruby Duvall
Kenneth sat down and pulled Beth back onto his lap. “I never minded a wee more salt in my food.”
His expression stiff, Iain wasn’t about to let the woman’s comment go.
“I’m surprised ye can still taste aught at yer age,” he said.
Aili laughed and her raspy voice was just a little creepy but Beth seemed to like it, for the little girl giggled again. The old woman raised one shaky hand and pointed at him. “Ye dinna have taste at all,” she shot back. “What a day! Blue skies are good for my hands but they hurt my eyes. My tongue, on the other hand, works just fine any day.”
“Aye, ’tis as sharp as ever,” he said with a frown as he walked back to the fire.
Aili continued as though she hadn’t heard him. “No taste at my age… Pah! Add some water to that soup or I willna eat it.” Iain took a deep breath of air but did as she said, stirring in more water from a nearby jug. “Such disrespect lately… Those boys down the way nearly ran me down on their horses, the bastards,” she frowned. “Didna even bow their heads to me.”
Kenneth’s eyebrows went up. “That’s right. Duncan and Finian rode by earlier.”
“I heard them. Did they say aught to ye?” Iain asked, stirring the soup.
“A few of their herd went missing last night, though I dinna know any more than that. They were going to report it to James,” Kenneth explained. Iain bit down on his lip, trying even harder not to curse in front of Beth.
“That dinna mean they can run down an old woman!” Aili squawked.
Iain ignored her. “’Tis likely MacGregors. They’ll steal from us as well before they move on,” he said. “I’d hoped that not enough had survived.”
Kenneth nodded solemnly. “The last couple of years have been hard. They’re a tough group though. Stubborn.”
“They have pride, like anyone else. Chose the wrong side and paid for it,” Iain said. “We’ll need to keep a careful watch the next few nights. I’ll see if the boys can help.” Their two farmhands were not quite old enough to shave but considering that there were no others to replace the other two he had already lost, Iain relied heavily on them.
“’Tis the best we can do,” Kenneth agreed.
“Of course they dinna ken!” Aili yelled at the empty air beside her. Everyone in the room went silent for a few seconds.
“Get her something to drink,” Kenneth whispered to his daughter. Beth obediently slid off his lap once more and walked to Iain, who poured some ale into a cup. Before she could take the cup he held out to her, the little girl stopped in front of the open door to look outside. Her eyes went wide. A smile lit up her face and she pointed outside. Of all the things children say, Beth’s next words were the last thing Iain expected to hear.
“Dada, look! A fairy!”
Kenneth grimaced. “Baby, ’tis just a bug.” Aili wheezed as she stood up, leaning heavily on her cane.
“’Tis nae a bug. Look!” Beth said, angrily stomping her foot. “She has wings too.” The child ran out the door, dropping her doll to the ground. Aili was already following the girl outside.
Kenneth stood up, heaving a long-suffering sigh. Iain knew well enough that his niece was very imaginative lately. She enjoyed making up invisible friends since few other children were near her age.
“’Tis a person,” Aili said, throwing the words over her shoulder.
Kenneth started for the door as Iain turned to put the cup of ale on the table behind him. “My God. Ye dinna see that every day,” Kenneth said.
Both curious and anxious, he followed his brother-in-law to the door but the shorter man filled the entire doorway.
“Move, Kenneth,” he grumpily said, pushing him aside. Kenneth moved distractedly, clumsily stepping out of the way and Iain ducked under the doorway.
The air rushed out of his lungs. His body tensed and his heart swelled as he stared at the mysterious creature only a stone’s throw away.
The girl’s hair was unbound and pink…pink! Her grass-green dress stopped just above her knees, revealing her naked calves, and her black footwear was like nothing he had ever seen. Even stranger was the coloring on her face. Just as Beth had said, she bore large wings. A gold chain suspended a small object from her neck, drawing attention to the low neckline of her dress. She also held an odd, round object. A brown bag with one long strap was looped across her chest.
She was the strangest, most upsetting and most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
“Iain, what are we looking at?” Aili said with frustration, jabbing his side with her cane. Pain spread from where she had poked him but he didn’t react to it. He didn’t even know how he would answer her.
“A fairy!” Beth said, providing her own answer. “Will she give me a wish, Dada?”
One of his sheepdogs raised its head at the sound of Beth’s excitement. The dog ran full-out toward the strange girl, barking. She backed up, her empty hand grasping her throat. He inhaled to command the dog to return to him but Puck skidded to a stop, almost as if he had hit a wall. His frantic barks ceased and he wagged his tail. Iain couldn’t say anything for a moment. Puck never liked unfamiliar people. None of his dogs did and that’s what he preferred. Once it became apparent that the dog wasn’t going to harm her, she relaxed.
Her gaze came back to them. Iain felt as though he couldn’t breathe very well when her eyes were on him. She opened her raspberry-colored mouth and he realized she was going to speak.
“Hello.”
Hel-oh? What did that mean?
Beth giggled, excitedly waving her hand. The pink-haired girl smiled uneasily at his niece and waved back. Her smile didn’t last long.
“This old woman canna see verra well, lass. Come closer.” Aili shuffled down the path and beckoned with her hand. Iain wasn’t so sure it was a good idea to invite the young woman closer but then mentally shook his head. What could this slip of a girl do? The young woman hesitated but then walked forward. Puck didn’t crowd her but he was eager to keep up.
“I know the way I look must be unsettling,” she said. Iain heard an odd accent in her words, something else that added to her strangeness. She wasn’t English though—of that he was almost certain. “My name is Emma.”
Iain bit his tongue to stop himself from saying it out loud, tempted to form her name with his lips.
“Are ye a MacGregor? A MacDougall? Or another clan?” Kenneth asked. She stopped walking, her forehead tightening. Aili was only a few steps away from her.
“C-clan? I don’t have a clan,” she answered. Aili took hold of Emma’s elbow and tugged, bringing their faces closer together. The girl gasped, looking into the old woman’s eyes.
“No clan?” Kenneth whispered to him. Iain frowned, his suspicion now overpowering his fascination. Without a doubt, the MacGregors were a clever group. “Do ye think she really is one of the good neighbors? She isna what I imagined. Dinna her kind have the legs of a goat?” Feeling betrayed by Kenneth’s gullibility, Iain shot a nasty look at his brother-in-law. “What?” Kenneth whispered defensively.
“Ha-haaa!” Aili rejoiced. “All my life, I heard such stories! Often felt as though my eyes played tricks. I never expected to meet one of the good folk.” She continued to cackle and Emma drew her hand from the woman’s grasp.
“Aili, ye dinna really—” Iain began but the old hag cut him off.
“Bite yer tongue!” she said, pointing the end of her cane at him. “’Tis bad luck to say such things about the good folk, especially when they have seen our suffering these last couple of years and sent one of their own to us.” Iain watched Emma as Aili spoke, noticing the dread on her face that conflicted with the nodding agreement he would have expected from someone seeking to take advantage of them with a convenient lie. She didn’t actually seem to want to be there.
“I don’t think you understand—” Emma tried to say.
“I understand verra well, dear. Ye’ve come to live with us. ’Tis why yer skin isna gray and yer legs like that of any oth
er lass. Ye’re to be one of us now.” Aili patted Emma’s arm in a comforting gesture. “Although yer hair isna quite right yet and ye’ll have to cut off yer wings.” Iain watched as a horrified look came over the winged girl.
“Dinna worry. Ye’ll become a real woman in no time at all. I’ll help ye,” Aili said. Emma took a step away from the old woman. “For now, ye’ll live with Iain there,” she then said, pointing at him.
Emma looked at him with wide eyes. “N-no, it’s probably best if—”
“Iain has no one to help in his home.” Realizing that Aili was offering up his hospitality to a complete stranger who was probably mad, Iain cut in as Aili was about to start on a tirade about his burnt and overly salted meals.
“If ye want to offer her a home, ye should offer yer own.”
Aili turned to him with a frown. “Iain, yer mother would be spinning in her grave to hear ye refuse hospitality to someone in need.”
“I dinna think it a good idea for her to go to the village anyway,” Kenneth said. Betrayed again, Iain turned to him with a thunderous expression.
“Then why dinna ye take in the fairy,” he ground out in a low voice. Kenneth held up his hands in surrender.
“Please!” Emma shouted. “I can tell I’m unwelcome. Please just tell me where else I can go.” Guilt swarmed him, which only fed his anger. Why did everyone think this girl was a real fairy? Looking at her, though, it was easy to tell that she wasn’t of their world—not an ordinary Scotswoman, that is. He just didn’t want to believe it. He refused to believe it. In fact, he was going to prove them wrong.
Pinning Emma with his eyes, he marched toward her. It would be obvious upon closer inspection that she was merely painted to look like a fairy. He had no idea how she had shaded her hair but the substance would surely rub off into his hand. Her eyes widened as he strode forward and she took a step back.
“Did I say something wrong?” she asked.
At the same time, Kenneth said, “Iain, ye’re scaring the girl.”
“Ye’re too trusting,” he rebuked.
The girl held up her free hand palm out, as if that would stop him, and continued to back up. “Wait, please don’t—” When he reached out to grab her, she shrieked and ran. He didn’t know what came over him but he pursued her.
“Ye foolish—” Aili yelled. Puck launched into frantic barking.
“Iain!” Kenneth called. Even Beth was yelling.
Emma hurdled over the wall, leaping from the top into the paddock, and then tore off across the open grass toward the other boundary of the enclosure. He hadn’t been that far behind her when she had first run but he realized with surprise that she was faster than him. He couldn’t give up the chase now though. Lengthening his stride and quickening his pace, he regained the ground he had lost. Each stride jarred his right knee and he hissed as pain shot up his leg.
Her butterfly wings were folded back toward him, pushed together by the wind, and they were the first thing he grabbed for when he was close enough. Grasping both, he growled for her to stop but his pace had slowed too suddenly and the wings ripped off into his hands.
Emma tripped, crying out. His feet became caught up with hers and he lost his balance, twisting just in time to avoid landing on her. The bulk of his weight hit hard next to her and his calves landed on the back of her thighs.
For several seconds, he was too winded to move and instead sucked in new air as his body tried to comprehend being flat on the ground. He had dropped her wings nearby and raised his head to look for them. Kenneth, Beth and Aili were just now entering the paddock from the gate. Kenneth was keeping up with his daughter’s tiny strides and Aili was upset enough to be walking as fast as Beth was running. Next to him, the fairy girl moaned. Turning himself about and taking his legs off hers, he lay alongside her.
“Don’t—hurt me,” she panted, shifting to lie on her side. Her mane of pink hair was tangled about her face. The fright in her eyes filled him with even more guilt. Unable to say anything, he reached for her more slowly this time and picked up a lock of her hair. Rubbing it between his fingers, he marveled at its smooth, soft texture. He had never touched hair so fine. Studying his finger pads, he saw nothing there.
Her hair was really pink.
“It’ll fade,” she said. Despite his better judgment, he looked into her eyes and wondered if she had heard his thoughts. “The pink color will fade in a few days.” Her breath held a cool, light, clean fragrance. Watching her painted lips move with that strange accent, he couldn’t stop himself when he reached to touch those lips. At first, her eyes tracked his hand but when he gently wiped his fingers across her mouth, she looked up at him. The ripe raspberry color didn’t come off though.
“It’ll fade too,” she explained. Reaching up to her cheeks, he drew his index finger across her sparkly skin. She was so soft. Smooth. So goddamn lovely.
Some of the glittering dust came off onto the pad of his finger, as fine as the multi-colored powder on butterfly wings. Worry gnawed at his gut as he reached behind her to touch the spot where her wings had sat. She hissed softly and he brought his hand up to see blood smeared across his fingertips.
“I am sorry,” he whispered.
“Uncle Iain,” Beth called, almost upon them. “Dinna hurt the fairy. She’s bonny.” As if that was the only necessary reason.
“Iain, ye…ye great fool!” Aili gasped out, more winded than either he or Emma.
“He killed her!” Beth wailed, wiping at her eyes. Kenneth patted her back, shushing her tears as he squatted down to her height.
“No, I’m all right,” Emma then said, rolling onto her back. “Don’t worry. I’m fine.” The little girl couldn’t stop crying as easily as she could start but she smiled.
Feeling silly lying there on the ground, Iain got to his knees and took Emma’s hand to help her sit up. He tried to resist the urge to caress it but he couldn’t stop his thumb from stroking the back of her hand…just once.
“Well, I’m…glad ye’re…not hurt,” Aili wheezed, arriving last. “Iain, I would…turn yer hide red…if I could breathe. Such foolishness.”
“See? She’s all right. No need to cry, baby,” his brother-in-law said, patting Beth’s head. Emma grabbed for the ornament dangling from her neck but relaxed upon finding it.
“Will ye keep her, Uncle?” Beth gazed up at Iain with her large, shimmering eyes, deep pools of sad blue. The same eyes as when her father told her that her mother had died. “Will ye?”
Iain clenched his hands and jaw as his walls of resistance crumbled. His niece was always his undoing.
Chapter Three
When she had been lying there, the breath knocked out of her, Emma had never been more frightened in all the time since she had woken up. She had been chased down by a man large enough and strong enough to snap her in half. When he had grabbed her fake wings, one of the safety pins keeping them on her dress had popped open, scratching her skin and then jabbing into her back before being ripped out with the other three. Safety pin, my ass, she thought.
The minor pain was enough to trip her. At first, she had only the strength to roll to her side just as he was crawling up to her and she couldn’t help begging for mercy. The man had been serious about catching her, after all.
It was therefore a complete shock when he gave in to the little girl’s plea to “keep her”, as if she were some stray animal. It was even more of a shock to learn the name of his clan.
“I am Iain MacArthur of the Clan Campbell and I offer my home to ye for as long as ye wish.”
Campbell? Perhaps the locket did indeed choose her for a reason. She was glad to have figured out where she was—Scotland—but for a brief, insane moment, Emma imagined him saying I am Connor Macleod of the Clan Macleod, at which point she would’ve said, And I’m the one who can’t die.
The man named Iain practically growled his less-than-tempting offer and Emma was rather inclined to turn him down. Being alone in a room with a man like him wa
s the exact opposite of what she had wanted when she had tailed the old woman. His wide chest, thick arms and obvious strength made her thighs clamp together.
It seemed, though, that her agreement was automatic.
“Lovely,” Aili crowed, pounding her cane into the ground a couple of times. “Dinna worry, dear. Iain is a clever man—just dinna have the touch for cooking. I’ll teach ye how.”
Resigned, she accepted their perception of her. If it was easier for them to think she was a real fairy who had come to live as a human, she couldn’t complain. She had no better excuse or story, especially since the truth was crazier than the lie.
Iain stood up, still holding onto her hand. His hands were so much bigger than hers, just like the rest of him. He offered his other one and she took it, letting him pull her to her feet.
“She’s going to stay?” the little girl asked. The smile on her face was simply adorable. “With us?”
“With yer uncle,” Kenneth explained. He straightened up to his full height. “But we can visit her if ye like.” Emma didn’t miss the underlying meaning of “we”. Kenneth didn’t trust her to be alone with his daughter and she couldn’t blame him.
For the second time, the rough pad of Iain’s thumb slid across the back of her hand. She might have taken it as something innocuous but such a light touch was undoubtedly something more. Feeling uncomfortable, she pulled her hands away from him, avoiding his eyes when his fingers tried to hold onto her. She then looked around for her steering wheel and went to pick it up.
“What’s that?” the little girl asked, probably a question the other three wanted the answer to as well.
Emma tried to be as truthful as possible. “It’s something from my home that I brought with me but unfortunately it doesn’t work now. I should probably destroy it.” Kenneth took a step back. “I-I mean, just burn it. Nothing special will happen…I think.”
Looking around for her wings, she saw them a couple of feet behind Iain and went to get them. She squatted down with her back to them and pulled out the loose safety pins.
“Dada, her back,” the little girl said, likely noticing the tears in her dress.