by Donna Grant
Sorcha opened her eyes and wiped the tears away. She watched the birds for a little while longer before she turned and slowly picked her way through the rocks to her car. Her ankle was better, but not well enough to be walking on it for too long. Yet that hadn’t kept her at home. She’d needed to come to the beach. It soothed her soul in ways she hadn’t been able to fathom.
Maybe, subconsciously, she had known what would happen, and that’s why she’d come this morning. Whatever the reason, Sorcha was glad she’d made the trip.
She started the engine and backed the vehicle up to turn around. As she stopped to check to make sure no one was coming before she pulled out onto the road, she paused, her thoughts going to Rhona’s visit the day before. Sorcha couldn’t do the ritual. But…now might be a good time to go to the Fairy Pools. It was still early. Few tourists would be there. It would allow her some time to be alone before she returned to the cottage.
With her decision made, Sorcha pulled out onto the road and headed to the pools. The entire way there, she kept wondering if she should go home. What would she accomplish by going to the pools? Nothing. She refused to attend the ritual, so going now would be silly.
And yet, she kept driving.
“What is wrong with me?” she asked herself.
But she knew. She missed her family, and it had taken its toll. Leaving Skye for Ireland had wound her up tight with anxiety and fear. Coming home should have alleviated all of that. Instead, she was doing things she hadn’t done in years.
She slowed and turned onto a narrow road that wound through the countryside. Signs told tourists where to go for the Fairy Pools, but she didn’t need them. Sorcha could get there with her eyes closed. The earliest memory she had was of being at the pools with her mum and her sister.
Sorcha pulled into the gravel carpark and shut off the engine. There wasn’t another vehicle in sight. She got out before she changed her mind. The idea had been to only stand at her car, but the next thing she knew, she’d shut the door and walked toward the path that led to the pools. From where she stood, she couldn’t see the pools themselves. It looked like gently rolling hills with the Black Cuillin Mountains rising in the distance. The range held the River Brittle, which fed into the pools. It wasn’t until you got closer that you realized the water had cut into the ground, and the pools were sunken.
A sign read: Glumagan Na Sithichean, with Fairy Pools written in English below it. It was a twenty-minute walk from here to the first pool. Sorcha crossed the public road to the start of the path. She paused beside the small green sign labeled Sligaghan, Gaelic for start.
She felt the draw of the pools just as she used to, just as every Druid did. But she hesitated. She glanced down at her ankle, thankful that she had put on a brace that morning. There was a good chance she could hurt herself on this trek because it was steep and rough for the first few meters.
Even though a part of her warned that she shouldn’t, Sorcha found herself continuing on. About fifty meters from the road, the path split. She had taken both ways multiple times, but her favorite was the right-hand option. She was careful about how she placed her injured foot so as not to aggravate the ankle. The trek went downhill, and it wasn’t long before she reached the first river crossing. There, she used the large stepping-stones to cross the water and get onto the gravel path.
From there, the terrain leveled as she walked beside the river. So many times, she and her sister had run this section to see who was fastest. It was one of her favorite spots because it crossed a peat moor with heather. Just ahead, she spotted the large, impressive boulders left after the ice had melted away during the last Ice Age. As the path gently rose, it met up with the main river. Her heart raced as she crossed the second part of the body of water and saw the rough rock steps naturally made by the rapids. Then, the first waterfall came into view.
She paused and took it in. This was the start of the magical pools. This waterfall was the highest with the water tumbling into the deepest pool. And it was a glorious sight to behold. However, it was the next pool that was the most famous because of its beautiful clear blue water. It featured a natural arch, which she had swum beneath numerous times. It was exhilarating and breathtaking.
Every waterfall, every pool, every stone.
There wasn’t a place here that didn’t conjure a memory of the past for Sorcha. All of them were good, causing her to smile and her eyes to water with unshed tears. This was the first time she had been alone at the pools since her family’s deaths, and it was just what she needed.
Sorcha walked to an outcropping of rock near the waterfall. She had jumped off it several times, but this time, she just wanted to sit and take it all in. With her feet dangling over the edge, she closed her eyes and listened to the sound of the water moving past her to fall below. It drowned out any other sound.
For the first time in…ages…she let herself feel the magic that flowed through the pools. She didn’t know if it came up from the ground, from the mountains, or if it was the water. Not that it mattered. It was a special place for Druids.
Those on Skye had many rituals that began when a Druid turned twelve and was accepted into the assembly. It was a grand event that took place at the Fairy Pools. Other sacred rituals for Imbolc, the Spring Equinox, Beltane, the Summer Solstice, Lughnasadh, the Fall Equinox, Samhuinn, and finally, the Winter Solstice were held in other locations around Skye. The pools were also a place many Druids chose to be married.
Sorcha had dreamed of her wedding taking place at the pools. She hadn’t wanted anything grand, just lots of flowers and her family. Late July or August had been her preference since the heather would be blooming, and the purple flowers along the pools were spectacular.
What an incredible place the pools were. The sheer beauty of them, the land, the mountains, was enough to make anyone feel as if they had finally come home.
“Well, well, well,” said a deep voice tinged with an Irish accent behind her. “I didn’t expect to see anything more beautiful than the pools here. Then, I spotted you.”
Sorcha stiffened at the poor use of a pick-up line. She wasn’t in the mood for company. Not to mention, anything even remotely Irish raised her hackles. Without turning around, she said, “I want to be alone.”
“Ah, don’t do that to me. I could show you a good time.”
He’d come closer. She could feel him just a little behind her. If her legs weren’t dangling over a boulder next to a waterfall, she would’ve gotten up and left. But he had boxed her in. And he knew it.
Asshole.
She’d told him how she felt. Her next best option was to ignore him. Hopefully, he’d take the hint. But most guys weren’t that clever.
“It’s not nice to keep your back turned when someone is speaking with you,” he said, a hint of annoyance coloring his words.
Sorcha took a breath to keep her cool. “I appreciate your interest, but as I told you, I wish to be alone.”
To her shock, he sat down beside her. She jerked her head to him and saw his silver eyes, black hair, and stunningly gorgeous face and body. A Fae. Of course. It was just her luck that one of the assholes had chosen today to come to the pools. She really hoped Rhona and the other Druids had been alerted that a Fae was on Skye. It made her wonder why she hadn’t felt the spells signaling her. Then again, she hadn’t used magic in a decade. Perhaps this was the magic’s way of getting back at her.
He smiled. Most women would probably fall all over themselves to get his attention. But she wasn’t most women. Sorcha looked away, trying to figure out how she could jump up and get away without hurting her ankle or falling into the water.
“Not even a smile?” he said with a shake of his head. “You could at least ask my name.”
Sorcha had had enough. She bit back a wince when she quickly got her feet beneath her and stood. Pain shot up from her injured ankle through her leg, but she refused to favor it and show him any weakness. She would pay for it later, but every cell in he
r body yelled at her to get away as fast as she could.
She backed up several steps. “As I told you—twice—I want to be alone. You should get the hint when someone doesn’t want your attention.”
His smile vanished in an instant. One second, he was sitting. The next, he was before her. “And you shouldn’t be so mean. Do you know what I am?”
“I don’t give a damn who or what you are. I’m not interested.” She knew there was no way she could get away from the Fae. He had magic, more than she could ever think to have. He’d be on top of her before she could get a running start. Why the hell had she come out here alone?
The Fae’s silver eyes narrowed on her. “You look like someone who could use a good time. Come with me, and I’ll give you pleasure, unlike any you’ve experienced.”
“In your dreams.” Sorcha inwardly kicked herself. The last thing she should be doing is purposefully irritating the Fae, but she couldn’t seem to help herself.
In slow motion, she saw his hands reach for her. Before she could shove them aside or turn away, she caught a blur of movement out of the corner of her eye. The Fae fell over the waterfall in the next instant.
Sorcha then found herself staring at the back of a very tall, very broad-shouldered man with long, black and silver hair tied at his neck in a queue. It couldn’t possibly be…. What were the odds that he’d be on Skye now?
Her mind froze, trying to come to terms with what she saw. Part of her wondered if she wanted this man to be the one from Ireland. Then she realized how stupid that sounded. She hadn’t even gotten a good look at his face.
No, but you sure as hell felt his body. His very hard, very amazing body.
The man didn’t turn to look at her. He walked to the edge of the waterfall and looked down before he jumped over the side. Unable to help herself, Sorcha rushed to edge and looked over to see the tall man beating the shite out of the Fae. The way the tall one moved, the way he had jumped over the side without hesitation, made her realize that he was Fae, as well. And with the silver in his hair, he was most likely Dark. The last thing she should do is get involved in any type of Fae dispute. Besides, the Druids would know about these two arriving. Perhaps she should get to Rhona and let her know exactly what had happened.
She glanced back to where her car was parked. It would take several minutes for her to get to her vehicle if she could run full out, and with her ankle, that wasn’t possible. But she didn’t want to wait around and find out who the man was. Did she?
The feel of the Irishman’s thick muscles beneath her palms made her glance down again. She really wanted to see his face, to know if he was the man who had helped her in Ireland. But if he was, then it was likely no coincidence that he was on Skye. The last thing she should do is get mixed up with anything like this. She turned around to walk a couple of steps away.
But she couldn’t leave. Her feet were rooted to the spot. She closed her eyes, trying to figure out what was wrong with her. She was doing everything opposite of what she had for the past ten years. It was like going to Ireland had swung her life around one hundred and eighty degrees. And she wasn’t comfortable with it at all.
Her thoughts stilled as something hot and electric ran through her. It was the same sudden jolt that had gone through her in Ireland. Without looking behind her, she knew that the man was there. She could feel him.
For a full minute, neither said anything nor moved. Sorcha wasn’t sure what she should do. She could probably walk away, and the man wouldn’t say anything or even try to stop her. It would be the wise thing to do. The safe thing.
Wise? It might be more prudent to see who he is. If he is the same one who helped you in Ireland, there’s a reason he’s on Skye. It’s always better to have information.
Maybe, but she didn’t want to get involved. Getting answers meant that she would have to talk to people, and that totally messed up the hermit lifestyle she had come to know and love. All she had to do was lift her foot and move forward. Just lift the foot. It was simple. Liiiiiiift….
Instead, she turned around and found herself staring into the red eyes of a Dark Fae.
“I won’t harm you,” he said.
It was the same voice as the man in Ireland. She’d recognize it anywhere. Deep, velvety, and utterly erotic. She’d never heard another like it. Sorcha knew firsthand how stunningly beautiful all Fae were, regardless of if they were Light or Dark. This man was no exception. His face was cut from granite with hard edges that seemed to contrast with his full mouth, the bottom lip plumper than the top. His eyes were fringed with thick, black lashes. And his body…it looked just as good as it had felt beneath her hands the night he’d carried her.
But he was Fae. Dark Fae, at that.
His gaze slid away as he sighed. “I should’ve used glamour. I didn’t mean to frighten you. That Light Fae won’t be bothering you again.”
Chapter Six
“Why?”
Cathal blinked at her question. “Why, what?”
“Why did you help me? You’re Dark.”
It had never bothered him until that moment that he was a Dark Fae. He had accepted who he was long before he’d become a Reaper. Then again, she seemed to have been just as disgusted by the Light Fae. So maybe it wasn’t only his coloring. “You told him twice to leave you alone.”
“And you thought I needed saving. Again.”
“If I hadn’t stepped in, things could’ve gotten…bad…for you.”
Her nostrils flared as she blew out a breath. “Thank you for helping me, but I didn’t ask for it this time.”
So, she did remember him. Cathal wasn’t sure that was good or not. Any minute, she’d ask him how he had found her and what he wanted. He bowed his head, hoping to be gone before then. “I’ll leave you so you can get back to whatever you were doing.”
“Why are you here?”
He halted mid-stride. So much for him getting away before she dropped her questions. He looked at her, knowing that Aisling was near, veiled and listening. “Looking for you.”
“Oh?” she said, brows raised. “Aren’t I the lucky one? Whatever you want, I’m not interested.”
“You might be if you listen to what I have to say.”
She flattened her lips and shook her head. “I can guarantee I won’t. The first time in ten years that I left my house was to go to Ireland. I did that as a favor, and I’ve regretted every minute of it.”
“Really?” he asked. “For someone who hasn’t left their house in that long, you seem to have enjoyed getting out enough to be here.”
He didn’t mention following her to the beach. It had gutted him to see her crying. He didn’t know what had caused her tears, but the silent way she’d stood there as they ran down her face spoke of deep anguish. He recognized it since he had been there himself at one time.
Emerald green eyes narrowed for a heartbeat. “You’re on Skye. The home of Druids. You might have access because of the Fairy Pools, but that doesn’t mean your kind is welcome here.”
At that, she turned on her heel and began to walk away.
Cathal smiled. She had spirit. There might be a thread of vulnerability in her, but courage and determination ran right alongside it. It would take a lot to break the Halfling. He respected that about her. Few people—mortals or Fae—had the strength to get through some of life’s toughest hurdles. He might not know what the Halfling had been through, but based on her reactions, he suspected it was a whopper.
She had gotten about five meters from him when he said, “There’s something you need to know.”
Without stopping, she lifted a hand and said, “Keep it to yourself.”
Just as Cathal was about to respond, he spotted a Light Fae that appeared just behind the Halfling. Cathal didn’t give the Light a chance to speak. He teleported in front of the Fae and punched him in the face, knocking him out immediately. Cathal grabbed the Light before he could hit the ground. If the Halfling heard any of it, she didn’t show it.
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He glanced to the side to see Aisling standing next to him, still veiled. She jerked her chin toward the Halfling, letting Cathal know that she would follow her. Neither of them liked that two Fae had tried to approach her in such a short time. Normally, the Fae couldn’t care less about a mortal who might have some Fae blood running through their veins. What was it about this Halfling that had brought attention to her?
Cathal gave one last look at the Halfling’s retreating back. He wanted to continue talking with her, but that wasn’t going to happen now. Aisling was more than capable of making sure the Halfling got home. In the meantime, Cathal was going to see if he could get some answers from the Light Fae he’d just stopped.
He attempted to wake the Fae. “Bloody hell. I guess I hit you harder than expected.”
Cathal kept the Fae with him, tossing him over one shoulder like a sack as he walked around the Fairy Pools, veiled. To his surprise, four more Fae arrived. Most were Light, but there was a Dark also. As the sun rose higher, mortals began to appear, as well. The Fae didn’t pay them any heed, even as some mortals blatantly let their interests be known.
When the Dark ignored a mortal, Cathal knew that something was up. The Fae were looking for something. And he had a sneaking suspicion that he knew what it was.
He took the unconscious Fae with him to the highest peak on Skye, where few people dared to venture. Then he dangled the Light by his foot over the side of the mountain and jiggled him a few times. It didn’t take long for the Fae to wake.
“About time,” Cathal said. “I want answers.”
“Who the fek are you?” the Fae asked as he tilted his head while crunching his torso to try and see Cathal.
Cathal raised a brow. “Since I’m not the one being held upside down over a mountain, I’ll be the one asking the questions.”