A Highlander of Her Own

by Melissa Mayhue

  Embedded in the pad of the dog’s foot, right between his toes was a large thorn. She might have missed it in the dimly illuminated stall if not for her mental visions of the animal’s pain.

  Another wave of dizziness washed over Ellie as she grasped the thorn between her fingertips, and she paused, waiting until she felt it pass. It took two tries to pull the barb from the dog’s flesh, but in the end the thorn gave way.

  Good!

  The word exploded into her mind, propelled on a wave of sheer gratitude and happiness.

  At the same moment, the dog toppled her over, pinning her shoulders to the ground, joyously licking her face by way of thanks.

  Unable to lift her arms or move out from under the dog’s weight, she tossed her head to the side to escape the brunt of his large wet tongue. It was then she saw the huge man emerge from the shadows, an enormous sword held out in front of him.

  Ellie followed her natural instincts at that point and screamed for all she was worth.

  Caden MacAlister sloshed through the mud of the dark courtyard on his way to the stables, muttering under his breath. He pulled his plaid tightly about him to ward off the cold, heavy rain.

  This was a prime example of the sort of task he hated most.

  Of course, he could have sent one of his men to take care of the problem, but he refused to send anyone to carry out a duty he wasn’t willing to perform himself.

  Blind Tavish had brought one of the deerhounds here to Dun Ard to be destroyed. The creature had refused to run on the last hunt and turned on the old man in the feeding pens. While Tavish was difficult at best in his dealings with people, he had a soft heart for the hunting dogs and would not put one down himself. Not even one that had attacked him.

  No, instead the old man, with the aid of the lad who helped him care for the beasts, had tied the dog up and brought him here for the laird to deal with. But Blane was away on much more important business, leaving this chore to Caden.

  As if he relished the task of harming an animal. Even one gone mad. It was for this reason he had delayed coming out here for the last couple of hours.

  Still, according to Tavish, the animal threatened the safety of the people, and that made it Caden’s responsibility in his cousin’s absence. A responsibility he took seriously. After all, one day he would be laird. He could not afford to feel compassion for the animal awaiting him.

  “It’s naught but a beast gone mad. No different from any other wild creature threatening my land,” he mumbled to himself.

  Entering the stable, he lowered the woolen plaid to his shoulders and shook his head, dislodging the droplets of rain that clung to him. A small fire burned in the contained pit of the stableboy’s chamber, casting a poor, flickering light over the interior of the barn but adding little warmth.

  All thoughts of pity for the unfortunate beast fled Caden’s mind as he neared the stall where the maddened animal had been placed.

  He drew his sword in response to the scene confronting him. A lad lay beneath the crazed beast, pinned down by his great paws. Apparently he had arrived just in time since even now the young man screamed in his terror.

  Caden moved forward slowly, keeping his eyes on the enormous dog, hoping to calm the boy with his words.

  “Hold still, lad. Dinna move a muscle and I’ll bring the beast down before he’s time to hurt you.”

  “You’ll do what?”

  The frightened boy’s strangled reply sounded more child than man, but Caden couldn’t afford to spare him a glance, his attention locked firmly on his four-legged adversary.

  Another foot forward, carefully, slowly so as not to panic the beast into attacking the boy. Only a little farther and he could open the gate to the stall.

  “You keep your distance, mister!”

  Before Caden could reach the gate, the boy pushed the dog away and rose to his knees, throwing his arms out in front of the beast, the flickering light glinting off his face.

  Caden froze.

  Not his face. Her face!

  With her body outlined in the glimmer of firelight, there was no mistaking the feminine curves, in spite of the odd clothing she wore that had led to his initial mistake. It was a woman trapped in the stall with the maddened animal!

  Caden no longer doubted or pitied. He would do whatever was necessary to rescue the woman. He had only to slip into the stall. To maneuver himself in between her and the animal that threatened her.

  “Rise to yer feet slowly, lass, and work yer way this direction. Dinna make any sudden movements to provoke the beast to attack.” He kept his voice low and calm, with the intent to soothe—both the beast and the woman.

  She lifted a hand to her face, pressing the heel of her palm to her forehead for a moment before speaking.

  “What’s wrong with you? This poor creature isn’t about to attack me.”

  Hand on the gate, Caden paused to reassess. The beast did seem almost as intent on protecting the woman as she was in protecting him. Still, Tavish knew his animals and Caden knew Tavish.

  “The dog is maddened. Now move away from him, lass. He’s already turned on his keeper this very day.”

  She faced the animal, putting her arms around him and resting her forehead against his side.

  “Would that be the keeper who half starves this poor creature? Or the boy who mistreats him, teasing him with bits of food?” She glared up at Caden. “The same keeper who never bothered to check this animal for injury when he wouldn’t run? I don’t blame this poor dog one bit. I would have attacked the bastard, too.”

  The image of this slip of a lass confronting the grizzled old dog keeper almost brought a chuckle along with it, but Caden stifled the urge. This was no time to find humor. The woman was in danger whether she knew it or not.

  He lifted the latch, easing himself through the gate into the stall. He kept his movements slow and deliberate, worried as much about the woman’s response as that of the dog. Perhaps he could distract her and get her away from the animal before it was too late.

  “The beast is injured?” The deerhound didn’t appear hurt, but neither did it appear to be maddened.

  “He had a large thorn in his footpad. Any fool who bothered to check could have found it.” A shiver racked her body and she drooped back down, as if leaning on the dog was all that kept her up on her knees.

  “Are you hurt, lass?”

  All thoughts of stealth vanished and he crossed the ground between them in two steps, leaning down to grip her arms and lift her to her feet. She stumbled against him and for an instant he could swear the scent of fresh peaches washed over him before she pulled away.

  “I…I don’t think so.” She put both hands to her head again. “But I’m so confused. Nothing here looks familiar. Who are you?”

  “Who am I?” She had mettle, he’d give her that. “The better question is who are you and how have you come to be in my stable?”

  “Ellie Denton and…I’m not exactly sure how I got here. I think I might have been struck by lightning.”

  Lightning? Not on a night such as this. Perhaps her mind was touched. It would explain much about her behavior.

  “No likely in this weather, lass. We’ve all but snow this eve. Now come away from the beast and we’ll get you up to the keep.” The dog appeared calm enough for the moment. This woman, this Elliedenton, was his more immediate concern.

  “Snow?” she squeaked, her eyes large.

  “Aye. Come along.” He grasped her arm again, drawing her toward him.

  Immediately the great dog tensed, pushing in front of Ellie, growling and baring his teeth.

  “Shh,” she soothed, her hand on the beast’s head. “I feel like we can trust this man. At least, I hope we can.” She rubbed the back of her other hand over her eyes before looking up at Caden. “I’m going to have to take a chance on you, cowboy.”

  Her words startled him. What was this madwoman going on about now? “Aye?”

  “Promise me you won’t hur
t this animal.”

  “Yer hardly in a position, lass, to be…”

  “I need your promise to protect him or I can’t leave him.” She lifted her hand toward Caden, stumbling as she started forward.

  He reached her as her legs gave way and swept her up into his arms, resting her head against his shoulder, the smell of peaches wafting around him again.

  “Verra well. You have my word.” Why he’d agreed to her ridiculous demand, he couldn’t say. Perhaps for no other reason than it seemed so important to her.

  “You swear it?” she mumbled, her eyes closed.

  “I said as much, did I no?” He shook his head in irritation as he tossed the end of his plaid up over her head, preparing to go out into the night. “No that you’ve any reason to question my—”

  Her soft fingers unexpectedly stroking down the side of his cheek struck him mute.

  “Thank you.” Her eyes fluttered shut but a tiny smile remained even as her hand dropped.

  He shook his head and started toward the door of the stable, surprised at what had just happened.

  Surprised at himself.

  “You’ve the luck of the Fae about you tonight, beastie,” he called over his shoulder as he headed out into the night.

  He ducked his head against the cold rain, clutching his bundle tightly against his chest. Now that he thought about it, the whole of this evening had the feel of the Fae to it.

  Four

  “I suspected I would find you up here. She’s sleeping peacefully at last.”

  Rosalyn MacKiernan MacAlister’s words danced across the high windswept parapet of Dun Ard, ringing in Caden’s ears. He felt more than heard her steps across the rain-slicked stones, so the gentle touch to his shoulder came as no surprise.

  “She’s a Daughter of the Fae.”

  “Are you sure?” He didn’t know why he even bothered to ask. If anyone would know, it would be his mother, a Daughter herself. Perhaps it was because it would be so much easier if she were wrong. “Did she come here from the Faerie Glen, do you suppose?”

  His mother pushed a bundle toward him. “Do any of these have the look of our Glen to you?”

  A faint peach scent wafting up through the cloth confirmed what he held without his having to examine the contents. The clothing Elliedenton had worn. He could almost imagine the feel of holding her, the warmth of her body still clinging to the damp bits of cloth, though, of course, that was ridiculous.

  “They’ve no the look of anything I’ve seen before.” Nor had the woman who’d worn them. “If no the Glen, then where could she have come from?”

  “You dinna for one moment suppose the Fae confine themselves or their exploits to our fair Glen alone, do you? They would have no reason for such.” Again his mother softly touched his shoulder, directing his attention up to the spot in the night sky where she pointed. “Do you see that one wee star shining his light from among those clouds?”

  Caden nodded, remembering all the times he had studied the sky with his mother from this very spot. “Aye.”

  “We see only him, but we ken the existence of all the others we canna see. It’s the same with the Fae, son. They walk the lands among the mortals, whether we see them or not.”

  “As you say.” Other Fae, like the Duke and his brother who’d come to Dun Ard nine years ago, threatening those dear to Caden. Exposing what he should have seen on his own. Changing his life forever. “Why do you suppose she’s here?”

  “I’d say she’s another tossed through time. And I’ve the feeling she’s here for a reason.” Rosalyn adjusted the plaid she’d wrapped about herself, pulling it tighter against the cold, blowing mist. “Though whether the reason is hers or ours, I’ve no a clue.”

  “Ours?” Caden turned to search his mother’s face. “What need would we have for a descendant of the Fae to appear on our doorstep?”

  Both his mother’s eyebrows rose before she answered. “It’s no a secret that the Fae do what they do for reasons of their own. Reasons that often are no clear to us until their plans are well in motion.” She paused as if an idea had just occurred to her, a half smile lifting one corner of her mouth. “Perhaps they, like yer own mother, believe it’s high time the MacAlister men went about the business of finding their life mates and starting a family.”

  A familiar litany from his mother.

  “You believe she’s been sent for Colin or Drew?” It would be good to have one of them settled and about the business of providing a MacKiernan heir.

  Rosalyn shrugged and turned her back toward the door. “Time will tell. You’d best come in soon, lad. Yer no going to solve the problems of the world staring at the heavens this night.”

  He nodded his agreement absently.

  At the doorway she stopped. “And I suppose we’d best dispose of that bundle as well. There’s enough trouble in our lives without worrying about having to explain those strange things of hers.”

  “Dinna fash yerself, Mother. I’ll do what needs to be done.”

  He meant that. About the woman as well as the bundle in his hands. If she were here for good, so be it. But he’d learned his lesson about the Fae nine years ago, along with an even more potent lesson about the hazards of trusting women.

  His people, his family, Dun Ard. They were all he had. All he would ever have. He’d allow no Daughter of the Fae to endanger any of them.

  He’d do what needed to be done. And discovering the true reason for Elliedenton being here was first on his list.

  Five

  Stark, raving mad.

  Ellie’s insides fluttered as she scrutinized the seemingly normal movements of the woman who had awakened her earlier this morning in this horribly strange place. It wasn’t last night’s dizziness that tied her stomach in knots now. It was the shock of being trapped in this unbelievable nightmare.

  Rosalyn bent over the fireplace, busily chatting as she worked. She was a tall, older woman, but lovely in the way beautiful women age. Only up close could Ellie see the streaks of silver shot through the pale blond hair the woman wore pulled back into a long, heavy braid.

  Beauty aside, someone in this room was without a doubt crazy as a bedbug—and Ellie didn’t much care for the idea that it might be her.

  “My nephew’s wife, Cate, used to fix this brew for herself of a morning.” Rosalyn looked up, a radiant, knowing smile on her beautiful face. “You’d have liked Cate. I suspect the two of you would have quite a bit in common.” She nodded to herself and chuckled as she turned back to her work.

  Quite pleasant for someone so obviously a complete mental case.

  Rubbing her damp palms together, Ellie found her mind reeling with the absurdity of what she’d been told. According to this Rosalyn, Ellie had been hurled through time by Faerie magic—Faeries, for God’s sake!—landing her here with these people.

  Obviously that was ridiculous, which left Ellie desperately scrambling to figure out what could actually be happening. Reason assured her of the impossibility of all that Rosalyn had told her.

  And yet that same reason didn’t—couldn’t—explain all she had seen here already.

  Oh, it covered all the nonsense about time travel and the Faeries Rosalyn claimed were responsible for her being here. But she couldn’t come close to explaining the clothing these people wore, the building she was in or, most disturbing of all, the weather.

  You did not have freezing rain in July in central Texas. Ever. It simply did not happen.

  Thinking of what she’d seen outside the wooden shutters earlier this morning, Ellie shivered and continued to shift her weight from one bare foot to the other in an attempt to limit contact with the cold stone floor.

  “Here, lass, take this.” Rosalyn held out a large mug.

  Ellie grasped the offered cup with two hands, sniffing at the rising steam, redolent with the aroma of mint. “What is it?”

  “It’s a broth of herbs. I canna recall exactly the name Cate used, but I assure you, it’s quite good. I
have it myself of a morning now.”

  “Tea?” Ellie asked absently, her attention drawn to the room itself rather than the occupant.

  They were in what Ellie would call a sitting room or a front parlor back home, though she had no idea if they were anywhere near the front of this place. She’d quickly lost her sense of direction as they’d walked through the long, dark hallways to this cozy room.

  Rosalyn had called it her “solar.” High walls, made of what appeared to be large stones, were hung with massive tapestries. It certainly looked like what she’d expect from authentic fourteenth century.

  Ellie shivered again. It felt like what she’d expect from authentic fourteenth century, too.

  There had to be some explanation for all this. Some explanation other than Rosalyn’s absurd flight of fancy that the Fae had sent her here.

  “That’s it! Tea,” Rosalyn murmured before taking a sip. “You’d be warmer, lass, if you’d but wear the stockings and slippers I offered you.”

  “I prefer my own boots, thank you. And my own clothes.”

  The costume she wore now was absolutely amazing. Layers of linen and woolen gowns. She had awoken this morning, her legs tangled in the heaviest, longest woolen nightgown she had ever seen and all of her clothes, except her underwear, gone.

  She’d barely had time to worry about how she’d gotten into such a costume before Rosalyn had swept into the room, arms full of the things Ellie wore now.

  The woman had also been full of the most unbelievable story Ellie had ever heard.

  A story of the existence of Faeries. Faeries with their own plots and schemes. Faeries who, according to Rosalyn, were obviously responsible for Ellie being there.

  Faeries indeed.

  Fantastic story aside, Ellie had accepted the excuse of wet clothing and allowed herself to be cosseted into this bizarre costume, but she had refused to put on the foot-wear. At this moment, however, she admitted to herself that her stubbornness was very likely a case of what her mama used to call “cutting off her nose to spite her face.” Still, it had seemed important to her at the time to be in control of something—even something so insignificant as what she wore on her feet.