“I don’t know…” Her reserve weakened at his words.
Ian crossed his arms over his chest, the corded muscles in his neck flexed. “Then I will have to stay here and protect ye?”
“No, I already told you can’t!” Caroline took a deep breath, as Ian stared back unmoved by her protest. God, he was formidable and all man. When in her life would she ever find someone with such honorable traits and loyalty in her time? Not to mention an amazing backside. The corner of her mouth lifted, as she remembered the view of him walking out of her kitchen. Something within her told her finding a man of Ian’s equal in her own time would be impossible. However, while all Ian’s attributes were noteworthy, the one thing she truly wanted was his heart. Could she win his heart if she returned with him? If she stayed in her own time, Caroline was positive things would remain the same. She knew what she needed to do.
Caroline looked him in the eye and asked, “How is it possible?”
He smiled at her and pointed to the backpack on the coffee table.
“The book about the giants?”
He nodded his head “Aye. The Tir Nam Famhair”
“Yeah, that’s a ten dollar word. I’ll just say Land of Giants.” Her words confused him. “Never mind, it’s an expression.”
“What say ye, lass?”
Without answering, she walked over to the wobbly–leg coffee table and removed the heavy tome from the bag. Bits of dirt crumbled beneath her fingers and fell to the floor as she pulled it from the pack. “You were right.” She brushed the dried up mud from worn leather cover. “I feel it too.” Caroline looked up. “My grandmother was a wonderful woman, and she took very good care of me…but it wasn’t the same. When my parents were killed, everything changed. I…have never been the same. In the park, when you let me sob in your arms. Then…” Caroline reached into the neck of her favorite T-shirt and pulled out a silver chain. At the end swung the half-pewter charm. Before she could explain to Ian about the green ethereal image the night her parents died, he reached around the back of his neck. All the air left Caroline’s lungs when she saw his medallion, which mirrored her own. Tears threatened to spill behind her burning lids. “I don’t understand. What does this all mean?” Her voice cracked.
Ian released the thick, silver chain. “I wish I had more time to explain it to ye, lass. However, I am no’ quite sure of all the details myself."
“She said you would come.” An understanding began to unfold across Caroline’s face.
“She?”
“The green angel. She’s the one who gave me the necklace.” Caroline released her own medallion, her eyes never leaving Ian’s. “She told me the night my parents died that He would come. That “he” must be you.” Ian raised a quizzical brow at her last words. “I can’t explain it, but your being here as made a bit of my burdens diminish. That probably sounds a little whacked out to you, but it’s what I feel.” She shrugged her shoulders.
Ian reached out and took Caroline’s hands into his own. He gave them a gentle caress before bring them both to his lips. Tenderly he placed a kiss upon each of them. “I do not know what this whacked out is, but I’m verra sure I have experienced it, as well.” He gave her a teasing smile that turned her insides to jelly, and she couldn’t help, but laugh at his use of the words whacked out.
He tucked a stray lock of her hair behind her ear. “Even yer laughter touches me here.” He placed a hand over his heart.
The man had a way with words, and his deep brogue didn’t hurt either. Before she realized it, she pulled him down and touched her lips to his. It was the first time she initiated the contact between their two bodies, and she was relieved when he kissed her back with a heated fervor. As he pulled away, she gave him a shy smile and handed him the heavy book.
Taking a seat next to him, she looked on as he turned the blank, yellowed pages until he reached the back. Her eyes looked on with fascination, as he pulled an ancient parchment from its folds. When they had first retrieved the book in the mud he had taken it from the pages, but placed it back.
“What is it? Is this why you came?”
“Tis the deed to Moy, but I do not believe it is the only reason I came to be here. Somehow our lives have been destined even before we were born.”
“My grandmother used to tell me there was a reason I lived. That I had a higher purpose.” She pointed her finger at Ian and then herself. “Do you think this is what she meant?”
“Tis possible, lass. However, my grandmother would be the one to ask. There is not a wiser, nor more eccentric woman in all the Highlands. Some may think she is addled…even myself for a time. But now?”
“Now what?” Caroline leaned her head back to get a better view of his eyes.
He shrugged his shoulders and grinned. “Well, it was her words and wisdom that lead me to ye.”
“She sounds like a very wise woman, and I will get to meet her?”
“Aye, ye will…but do not say I did not warn ye.”
When he chuckled, Caroline gave him a playful swat to his arm.
“So how does this work?” Caroline looked hopefully at Ian.
He thought silently for a moment. “The bone key led me to the book…and ye, but I accessed the magic from the standing stones near…” Simultaneously, Ian looked at the empty circle that lay upon the books front cover and tore his medallion from its chain. “Give me yer necklace.” Without question, Caroline did as he asked. Once Ian had the two pieces, he placed them in the vacant space. The two pieces fit together perfectly and created the image of a large tree.
Ian was about to give up, when the pages of the Tir Nam Famhair flew open and the familiar green hue ensconced the room. He worked quickly to open the single paper. The lighting was better within Caroline’s tiny home, and he was pleased to see Delilah had been correct and the deed remained unharmed. If they had more time he would have explained, but the Fae was fast at work setting things to right. If his heart spoke true, Caroline would be at his side when he returned to his time.
“Ian, what’s happening?” She held fast to his forearm. The eerie shadows grew stronger within the chamber. “Answer me, Ian. What’s happening?”
Just before the orb ensconced them, he said. “Ye told me earlier that ye trusted me, lass. Do ye still have faith in me…in us?”
“I have lived my entire life in fear, but right now…at this moment, when I’m with you…I feel safe.”
“If ye have any doubts, lass ye need to leave now. I know no’ how the magic works, but I assure it does. The book is a portal between realms.” He clutched the bone key that hung around his neck. “The key will lead us back to my time in a matter of seconds, Caroline.” Any other woman would have cowered at the exasperation in his voice, especially the woman he found this night.
Then as though the girl from earlier this night had vanished, out emerged a much stronger Caroline and it elated him to think he may have been responsible for the transition. A bright smile covered her face as she said, “Yes, I trust you. I trust you with my life and my heart, Ian MacLaine.”
He gave her a reassuring smile, as he placed one of his hands in hers and clutched the deed in the other. Then all went dark leaving the Tir Nam Famhair behind.
Chapter Fifteen
Cold, gray ash lay in the study’s hearth, and Hettie MacLaine’s grandson, Ian was nowhere within the keep. Her thoughts drifted to their conversation from the night before, when she found him alone and agitated in this very room. With each passing generation, the MacLaine male bairns were larger than the last, which earned the MacLaine’s on the Isle of Mull its nickname, The Land of Giants. Her grandson, Ian, was no different from his predecessors when it came to explaining the magic of the Tir Nam Famhair. Like all MacLaine men, he was as stubborn as a horse’s arse hell-bent on heading to pasture.
When she arrived yesterday Ian feigned a jovial manner in the bailey, but Mo Daol saw through his ploy to re-direct her questions. Last night he needed her guidance, and she had
been forthright about his destiny. His absence told her Ian indeed listened to the truth of his heart. Did she fear for his safety? Aye, she did. However, the book was never wrong and its magic works toward the good of the MacLaine clan.
The sound of the door creaking drew her attention toward the far end of the room, as fiery-red hair peeked out from under a MacLaine arisaid before lowering the cowl. “Delilah.” She gave the Fae girl a welcoming smile and motioned her forward.
“M’lady?” The title sounded more like a question, rather than a greeting.
It was Delilah that filled her in when she arrived home from Dunnideer. It shocked even her, that along with the book, the key could access the magic by leading it back to the book. Mo Daol responded to her. “Aye. He is gone. His bed remains as he left it and the fire has burned out long ago. I will await Calum in the great hall, when he comes in from the list to break his fast. Though I think, we will find, Ian will not be with him.”
Delilah’s red brow rose in question.
Mo Daol laughed. “Do not worry about my middle grandson. I will see to him, though I am sure he will not take it well. Unlike Ian, he will need much, much more time to come to terms with his brother’s absence.”
Delilah pursed her lips before she spoke. “Aye. That it will. Calum canno’ even stand tae be in the same room with me. I walk in, and he does the sign of the cross as though I am Ole’ Clootie himself.” At the Fae girl’s words, both women gave a hearty laugh at Calum’s superstitious ways.
She walked toward the healer and said, “Come, Delilah. The men will be back from the list soon, and I will see my grandson remains in the same room as ye. I think ye will find his skittish ways may have more to do with his heart than his mind. Besides, trust me when I say this will be one conversation ye do not want to miss, and truth be known, I may need your help to convince the big oaf the way of it.”
As she stepped into the dank corridor with Delilah, she could hear the sound of the rustling kitchen workers, as they maneuvered about the great hall. As it did every morning, aromas of fresh baked bread from the oven filled the first level of Moy.
As they entered the enormous room, Mo Daol heard the younger woman’s stomach rumble.
Delilah blushed. “I have to admit to being famished. My guilt has hindered my appetite…until now. Just knowing the laird will soon have the deed to Moy eases my mind. Besides, if I am to face Calum this day…I will need all my strength.” Delilah gave her a wry smile.
“Och lass, the fault lies with your sister for stealing the book in the first place. Ye thought to protect the clan and did not know the deed lay within. As far as my grandson, do not let that one intimidate ye. I have a….” The sound of several heavy footsteps halted her statement. “The men have come for their morning meal. Let us not dally.” They walked arm in arm and entered into the morning chaos in the great hall. Benches scraped across the stone of the floor, as the men sat around the tables. A kitchen lass squealed, as a warrior playfully pulled her onto his lap.
Mo Daol looked on at the spectacle, as she walked toward the dais. “Donald MacLaine! Leave the girl alone and let her do her job.” She contained the smile that pulled at the corner of her mouth.
“Aye, Mo Daol.” He helped the robust lass from his lap, and gave her backside a slap. The sound of her giggles faded as she returned to the kitchen. The men around the table chuckled at Mo Daol’s good-natured admonishment.
As they approached the raised dais—a place designated for the laird, his family, and important guest—Delilah released her arm to find a seat among the other clan members. Mo Daol caught her wrist and said. “Nay, lass ye will sit between Calum and me at the head table this morn.” When it looked like Delilah would argue, she held up a hand and insisted. “I am an old woman set on having her way and will not discuss the matter further.” All in Lochbuie knew of her forthright manner and stubbornness, and there were few who would disagree once Mo Daol was of a mind to do something.
Each of them took their places at the high table, but she did not miss a nervous Delilah wringing her hands upon her lap. The last time Calum had seen the enigmatic Fae lass was a year ago, when her husband, Hector passed on. Even Mo Daol noticed the pair exchange glances, but it was her belief her grandson’s skepticism warred with the desire of his heart. She was positive his cruel responses were to avoid Delilah from capturing his heart, and less from fear of the Fae’s power. The fool.
A freshly bathed Calum stopped short at the sight of the mystical Fae woman sitting at the dais. Why did he get the feeling Delilah’s presence had something to do with his meddlesome grandmother? When her sapphire eyes connected with his own dark ones, the muscles in his jaw tightened. Those at Lochbuie spoke of her great powers of sight and her ability to communicate with the Fae. Then as he had done over the last few days, whenever he came into her presence, he put a hand to his forehead, and then drew it down to his heart, crossed it from left to right over his chest. The gesture earned him a miffed leer from the fiery redhead, as she rolled her eyes at his religious display. If it were not for his grandmother’s chastisement interrupting the exchange, he would have laughed at Delilah’s aloof attitude toward him.
“Calum! Quit that nonsense and come break your fast.” Mo Daol motioned to the empty chair on her right.
Next to besting a man with a bow, raising his grandmother’s ire was high on his list of entertainment. “Ye can not expect me to sit next to her.” He tilted his head toward the Delilah.
“Aye, I do and ye will unless ye would like me to box your ears in front of all the men.”
With a shrug of his shoulders, he moved around the long table that was already laden with smoked fish, bannocks, and slices of mutton. Once he reached his seat, he slammed himself down and he muttered under his breath. “Tis enough to make any man lose his appetite.”
“Did ye say something, m’lord?” Out of the corner of his eye, he did not miss the bewitching healer’s subtle grin as she spoke.
“Nay. Perhaps it is the voices of your friends from the otherworld that ye hear.” A pleased smile appeared on his face at the clever retort.
She muttered between gritted teeth. “Daft man.”
“Did ye say something, healer?” He snorted before taking a long draught from his ale.
“Nay, perhaps its your overly large ego ye hear calling.” The sound of her muffled laughter annoyed him.
Before he could retort, Mo Daol intervened loud enough for the entire hall to hear. “Calum your being rude tae my guest. If ye canno’ mind your manners, I suggest ye take your meal in your chambers.”
From where he sat upon the dais, the trestles laid out perpendicular below the head table. Laughter rose from the men and women present in the large room at Mo Daol’s chastisement. The boisterous sound echoed off the high ceilings and structural wooden beams above, but waned as soon as they saw the growing animosity upon his face as he glared over the assembly.
Something was amiss. The fleeting thought no sooner filled Calum’s mind, when he noticed Ian’s chair remained empty. When he did not appear in the list earlier to train, he assumed the haunting lass had once again taunted his brother in his dreams. However, as a laird it was not an example he should set for those he oversaw, to be a slug-a-bed. Unless he was ill, the hour was late morning and he should be up and tending to Moy’s responsibilities.
Mo Daol did not seem too concerned about his brother’s absence. “Does Ian think to lay a bed the entire day?”
“Nay.” Mo Daol dipped her knife into the creamy dish of butter and spread it upon her bannock.
“I would have thought he would be training with his men, especially now when Argyll plots to steal Moy from the MacLaine’s. If Ian canno’ produce the deed, Argyll will hold the advantage, and I do no’ need to remind ye he has the king’s ear, usurper or not. Instead of slumbering well past sunrise, he should be planning his next move.”
“Ye assume he idles the day away sleeping?”
“Ummm
…I’m sorry Mo Daol. What was it ye said?” He pierced a piece of smoked herring and place upon his trencher.
“The deed is not lost. It’s in the Tir Nam Famhair to keep it safe, ye know that. Ian told me as much last evening.” She motioned for one of the kitchen lasses to refill her goblet with mead.
“Aye, so he did.” He stabbed into a slab of mutton as he gave his caustic retort.
He could not remember a time in his youth when Mo Daol showed fear, so it was no surprise when she responded likewise. “Then why do ye ask me where your brother is? Tis should be as plain as that nose on your face.”
At her words, the thought of poor Ian having to deal with the whimsical woman on a daily basis mystified him. With his forefinger and thumb, he pinched the bridge of his nose, as he attempted to stave off his annoyance. “What? Are ye saying, he has gone to retrieve the Tir Nam Famhair?”
“Aye.” She pierced him with an icy glare.
“Was it no’ ye that made it vanish?”
“Aye.” Some of the challenge in her earlier glare dissipated.
If he put any stock in Ian’s words during their hunt, the book magically disappeared into some abyss, never to return. He no more believed it yesterday, and he was not of a mind to think any different this day. Back and forth, he looked at the women, and without warning, he threw back his head and howled with laughter. To think they expected him to believe such an absurd idea about his brother vanishing in thin air. “Ye canno’ possibly believe in such nonsense, Mo Daol?”
It was his grandmother that spoke first. “Aye! I do! Thanks to Delilah, all should be well soon. There will be no need to worry over this business with Argyll. With the key, Ian wears, and his heart as his guide, the Fae magic should lead him to what his heart desires the most.”
He blew out a frustrated breath before he spoke. “And where is it exactly he is being lead…if I may ask?”
Kissed by the Laird (First Ladies of the Fae Book 1) Page 14