“Hmmm…” Anna said. “Should I say you kidnapped me, carried me off as I struggled—”
“To save you from a pack of blood thirsty demons who believe your life makes their continued existence much less likely,” he finished.
She shut her mouth and swallowed, her fingers fiddling once again with her braid. He watched the delicate movements of her throat. The skin of the soft, pale column looked warm and probably smelled of the scented soap he’d left for her.
They stepped through the trees onto the moor that stretched toward the village of Kylkern with its castle on the peninsula, surrounded on three sides by Loch Awe. About twenty warriors fanned out across the moor. Their minds brimmed with determination, worry, and anger. One in particular thought of a crying woman who had Anna’s beautiful green eyes. Patricia Pemberlin’s fiancé, William Maclean.
Behind them rode a woman before a man. Their minds held a different image, that of a small boy. Fear and concern engulfed them. The woman’s son was missing. She had convinced the man to let her ride with them as they searched for Anna.
Anna waved her arm overhead and quickened her pace. “Considering that my sister’s new family tends to react violently to threats, I think perhaps a well-intended variance of the truth would make this day much less bloody.” Anna looked side-ways at him. “In fact, you can return to your home now. I’m safe with the Macleans.”
She apparently had no idea of what Semiazaz and the rest of his brethren were capable. They were far more dangerous than wind and acorns, but now was not the time to convince her.
“I would like to meet the great-grandson of Serena Maclean,” he said.
“Do you know the Maclean history?” she asked and stepped across the spongy peat amongst the tall grasses.
Deep thuds emanated on tiny vibrations in the ground under Drustan’s feet as the Highlanders rode closer. He ignored them to meet Anna’s gaze. “Serena Maclean is my sister,” he said.
“She’s been dead for more than a century. How could she be your sister?”
“You have survived devil spawn, whipping acorns and rocks at you, yet you question movement through time?”
“I…” she let the word hang, her lips parted on her next thought. “I guess I am.”
Drustan turned back to the advancing horde of humans when he felt his great-grandnephew touch his mind. The man did not possess Serena’s power to read thoughts and emotions, but Drustan recognized an intuitive power in the man. His nephew’s instincts were always on target, and he was quite confident in trusting his gut. A talent that no doubt helped him rule his large clan.
Hello William Maclean, Drustan placed the words into William Maclean’s mind. I will do you no harm.
William drew his horse up out of the gallop several strides away, signaling the same to his men as he guided his steed in a circle.
William’s thoughts were a jumble of suspicion. His gaze stabbed at Drustan before turning to Anna. “Miss Pemberlin,” William yelled across the cropped grasses on the moor. “We have been searching for you. Your sister is worried.”
“I was caught in a storm last night and this man sheltered me and brought me home this morning. He has no mount so we had to walk. I am quite anxious to relieve Patricia’s fears.”
“Have ye seen Josiah?” the woman asked. “My son. He is only seven summers old.”
Anna shook her head. “I am so sorry, but no, we have not come across anyone in the forest. We exited there.” She pointed to a spot slightly off from the direction where they’d actually been.
Drustan easily saw the boy in the woman’s mind and conducted the image toward the forest where Tenebris waited out of sight. Search for the boy. The child wouldn’t survive long alone in the woods where packs of wolves roamed and the night temperatures were becoming intolerable.
“And you are?” William continued, bringing Drustan’s focus back to his stubborn great-grandnephew. With a quick signal from William, the man holding the anxious mother before him, along with two other Maclean warriors picked up their journey across the moor toward the forest. The rest of his party formed a circle around them. Curiosity and suspicion warred in each Highlander. Both these emotions were vastly familiar to Drustan and easy to ignore.
“I am Drustan, son of Gilla, son of Druce.”
The names registered like a lightning strike in William’s mind even though his face remained stoic. He knew exactly who Drustan was. His mind raced as quickly as his blood.
“Drustan MacDruce, then?” said a broad, red-bearded Highlander.
Mac meant “son of” in their ancient language. “Good enough,” Drustan said. He’d never had a family name before. And even though Semiazaz said that Drustan’s father had been weak and boastful, Drustan liked the sound of belonging to someone.
William kept a neutral expression, his brows twitching together once as if he were calculating known evidence to pass judgment. The man’s hand stroked along the pommel of his sword. Did he really think that could stop Drustan?
Drustan and William stared at one another until the red-bearded man cleared his throat and spoke in Gaelic. Even though Drustan didn’t speak the ancient language, he could read the intent by the man’s thoughts. Should they subdue him, carry him back to the castle with Anna? Throw him in the dungeon? Red-beard, who was called Hamish, knew that William’s intuition was consistently accurate.
You will find me very difficult to force into your dungeon, Maclean. Drustan sent a sharp message while William weighed his options. Out loud Drustan said, “I am honor bound to return Miss Pemberlin to her only family here in the Highlands, her sister. Let us pass.”
“We are Miss Pemberlin’s family,” William said, his voice low.
“Not yet,” Drustan answered.
Anna huffed and tugged up her skirts. “My sister is probably halfway to saddling her horse to ride out here after seeing me from the castle walk. Enough talking.” She strode through the middle of the circle and slid between two mounted Highlanders. “I have a million things to do before I give her away to you, Mr. Maclean. I suggest we get back to Kylkern immediately or the wedding will be delayed.” She threw the last over her shoulder as she traipsed across the moss and gorse-covered heath, tripping once with a hushed curse.
Drustan felt the corners of his mouth twitch despite William Maclean’s continued glare. He raised an eyebrow and strode after Anna, sliding between the two horses who, despite their riders tugging them to close the gap, parted as if a magical force pressed gently against their girths. Which was precisely what occurred.
In less than five strides, he reached Anna. She glanced to see him. “Are they just standing there in their circle?” she murmured.
“Yes,” he said. “I don’t think they are used to women speaking to them like that.” He chuckled, the sound coming out a bit stilted, probably from disuse.
“Actually,” she continued, though he saw a smile soften her mouth, “the women of Kylkern are quite sturdy in handling their men.”
Drustan picked up frustration, curiosity, and wariness from the Macleans who urged their mounts to follow around them. William dismounted in front of Anna. “My lady, and soon-to-be sister,” he said. “Ye may ride.”
“You are quite valiant, sir. Thank you,” Anna said and walked up to the horse.
Drustan stepped after her and sensed a hand near his shoulder. He pivoted, the flame of magic surging within him to paralyze the hand in the air. William Maclean’s eyes widened for a moment before narrowing. “She will ride alone,” William said without struggling.
“I must ascertain her safety,” Drustan said softly and let his gaze flick to the sky.
“Evil follows you,” William said, his eyes narrowing to slits as if the focused view would help him see.
“No, but they have a habit of popping in unexpectedly,” Drustan answered.
“I would have a word with you, Drustan MacDruce.” William said, undeterred, his hand still stretched as if to grasp. “If ye want
any cooperation at the castle, ye will talk to me before we arrive. My guess is that ye’d like some information about yer family. Ye are of my blood.”
Drustan released William’s hand. “Yes,” Drustan said. “I would like to read the family records.”
William flexed his fingers and rested his hand on his sword, although surely the man’s instincts told him that the weapon would be useless against Drustan. “Ye will do no harm to my people,” William said. “Including preventing them from moving.” The man’s face was grim.
“I wish no harm on the Macleans, and will do none unless it is to protect Anna Pemberlin.”
Without waiting for a response, Drustan strode across the moor, watching the black tail of William’s horse tossing as Anna cantered toward the castle.
Drustan heard William’s curiosity as he closed in, jogging to catch up while most of his men rode ahead. Great-great uncle? Couldn’t move my hand. Dangerous. William slowed beside him.
“Do not touch me, nephew, or you will sicken and die,” Drustan said. “It is part of my curse.”
William’s thoughts swam with a picture of Kailin telling him just that. “Ye should have mentioned that first,” William said.
“You already knew,” Drustan said. “But I’ve created a barrier to keep people from accidental touches. I will employ it inside. As long as no one deliberately tries to touch me, I will not harm you or your clan.”
Drustan could instantly taste the bitter blend of William’s impotent anger and fear. “The hell ye won’t,” William said with a curse. “If ye can freeze a body or kill someone with a touch, ye can kill us all. What could possibly stop ye?”
It was a fair question. Semiazaz had enticed Drustan through the years to use his powers for personal gain, and he had, but the gain had been about comfort in his home. Drustan studied the proud man confronting him, ready to die to protect those he loved. What must it feel like to be loved so?
“You are my family, William Maclean, my sisters are scattered throughout time. Your aunt Kailin lives in this time period and your great, great grandmother is my eldest sister, Serena, who lives in the eighteenth century.”
William didn’t even blink. “History is full of kin killing kin. Ye could change yer mind at any time. If a sword or a blow cannot stop ye, I need to know what will.” His words had grown colder, hovering like frozen breath between them.
“You need to let me by.” Drustan pushed into William’s mind, sending an image of the man’s proud fortress. A swirling dark tornado whipped into its walls, shooting gray chunks of chiseled granite hurling through the sky to flatten the thatched roofs like the merciless footfalls of giants. “You will let me follow her or meet with destruction.”
Several Macleans moved forward, drawing their swords. Apparently they were well versed in English.
“We are not without powers of our own,” William answered.
“It will not be enough to stop me.” Drustan studied the hard features of the Macleans around him and exhaled through his teeth, purposely loosening his jaw. This was not how he’d intended to meet his family in the Highlands. “I have no desire to destroy my own family, despite your history books.”
William still held his sword. “Ye will be welcome here, Drustan MacDruce, as soon as I know yer weakness. Every man must have something to hold him accountable, a weakness that can be used to keep him from wrecking evil or torment.”
“What if I have no such weakness?”
“Everyone has a weakness. It’s what makes us mortal.”
The last word hung like a question. Was he mortal then? Drustan pondered it at night before the last flickers of fire in his hearth. If a man can break the lines that control time, stopping time from advancing, doesn’t he also make himself immortal? Yet, he was vulnerable to death.
Semiazaz had warned him almost daily that the witch Drakkina wanted nothing more than Drustan’s death. As an infant Drustan had seen it, had deflected her murderous magic from the cradle. Yet he must be vulnerable somehow. A flicker of a dream flashed in Drustan’s mind and his gaze flew past the circle of stout Highlanders. Anna.
Without shifting his gaze, Drustan spoke low. “You want to know what makes me vulnerable, what could possibly kill me?”
“Or ye will not pass without bloodshed.”
Drustan’s thoughts filled with memories of the night before. Anna Pemberlin touching him, making his power dissolve so that he had to carry her with muscle instead of magic. The brush of her hand loosing the pine boughs to hit her. “There is nothing strong enough to defeat my powers. Nothing except…Anna Pemberlin.”
Chapter Five
Anna raced into the cold, dark entry of the soaring castle and clipped up the steps into the great hall. “Patricia,” she called out. “I’m back, Patricia.”
“Goodness!” Helen, the buxom housekeeper, waddled from the hall leading to the kitchens. “Ye’re found!” She pushed wisps of gray curls up higher in the white cap she wore. “Are ye a ghost?” she asked breathlessly and passed the sign of the cross before her.
“I did not die, Helen. Where is my sister?” By now the hall should be decorated, garlands of dried flowers and wheat draped from sconce to sconce and on the mantel. The wedding was scheduled for that evening at precisely six thirty, so that the clock hand would be rising as they recited their vows, an extra detail for good luck. Patricia had insisted.
“She’s above stairs, probably red-eyed and splotchy from all the tears.”
“Blast,” Anna murmured. “Is the wedding still on?”
“No. She called it off until ye could be found.”
Anna rushed to the stairs. “Well, I’m found. Let the guests know.” She paused at the foot of the shadow-filled, twisting steps and looked back at Helen. “Perhaps tomorrow morning, if her eyes are that red, but let them know the wedding is back on.”
Anna used the cut granite to help her climb, her muddied skirts bunched in her other hand so as not to trip. “Patricia,” she yelled as she flung herself through the door into the bedroom she’d been sharing with her sister. “I’m here.”
“Anna?” Patricia sat in a dramatic pool of skirts on the woven rug by the hearth where a warm fire flared and cracked on peat and brush. “You’re alive.”
“Of course I am,” Anna said and helped her stand, pulling her into a hug. She smoothed Patricia’s hair, which lay about her shoulders without braid or twist.
“When your mare came back without you, and you were gone all night, out by yourself in the wilds…. Even you can’t fend off a wolf or wild boar with your bare hands.”
The image of the wolf and Drustan wrestling made Anna inhale through her nose as she pinched her lips. “I encountered no threatening wolves or wild boars.”
Patricia pulled back, her eyes inspecting Anna for tooth marks or tusk gouges. “But William warns that packs of wolves roam the mountains at night. And the cold. You must have been freezing. How did you survive and find your way back? You have the worst sense of direction.”
“I met a man in the woods, and he let me stay in his house overnight. And I led him here so I suppose I have better direction than you think little sister.”
“A man? You were alone all night with a man.” A soft smile touched Patricia’s lips. “My most unromantic Anna?”
Anna let go and moved to the fire to hide the flush in her cheeks. “I had no choice.” Drustan had carried her in his arms to his house. It was still a kidnapping, despite the excellent food, bed, and bath.
“Did he…force you, Anna?” Patricia’s eyes grew round, her face paling.
Yes. “No, Patricia.” Anna’s gaze flitted to the door and back.
Patricia of course caught the glance. “Is he down below?”
Anna yanked on her braid that was quickly coming undone. “I left him when your William gallantly gave up his horse for me to use. They are walking across the moor.”
Patricia grabbed Anna’s hands, swinging them. “He will have to come to the we
dding. Be a guest of honor for returning my dear sister. I postponed the whole event.”
The thought of having Drustan under Kylkern’s roof squeezed Anna’s stomach, making it ache and wobble at the same time. No matter how she tried to convince herself that what had occurred yesterday had been a dream, she knew that no dream of hers could ever be as wild as the events of the last twenty-four hours.
“I should tell Helen to send a message out that you’ve been returned,” Patricia said.
Anna’s hand lay flat against her chest over her thudding heart, and she breathed slowly to dispel the disease plaguing her. “I saw Helen in the hall.” She turned from the fire with a forced smile for Patricia. “The wedding will commence tomorrow morning. We have work to do.”
“Vows still exchanged on the half hour?”
“As you wish.”
Patricia nodded, joy lighting her face. “I’ll tell Alicia and Matilda. Oh, and little Sarah will be giddy again with excitement over being the flower girl. She was as pitiful as me when I called the wedding off.”
“Patricia lass,” William said from the doorway. He looked at his betrothed and then at Anna, giving her a curt nod. Curiosity played through his eyes as his brows lowered. “Your sister was not eaten by wolves. It seems she is much more resourceful than you thought.”
Patricia launched herself into William’s chest. His arms came up around her small frame yet he continued to stare at Anna over Patricia’s head, as if trying to puzzle her out.
Patricia looked up into his face. “She says a man saved her in the woods. He brought her home and will be the guest of honor at our wedding in the morning.” She smiled up at him, waiting for his reaction to her declaration about the wedding. He glanced down and kissed her forehead, tucking her back into his chest.
“Guest of honor?” He paused and then nodded. “Aye. And I think he will be set right next to Miss Pemberlin at all times since he knows no other here.”
Anna returned William’s stare. “I’m sure that Mr…” He had a name. They’d declared it on the moor.
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