Highland Charm: First Fantasies

by April Holthaus

  Laurie’s body thrummed, taut with desire not sated. She swallowed hard and tried to pull out of the man’s grasp, but failed.

  The now-familiar pressure of his grip no longer frightened her. She understood in the depth of her soul the man who kissed her with such tender passion would never physically harm her. Still, panic hovered too close for comfort. How had she gotten here?

  No longer was she in the woods near her cottage and garden. Instead, she stood at the edge of a dark, dense forest near what appeared to be a one-room timber hut with a dilapidated thatched roof.

  Who were these two men? Should she run? She didn’t believe she could escape, and the last thing she wanted to do was enrage the men.

  “This isn’t Kansas,” she whispered under her breath.

  The man, whose name must be Patrick, yanked her in front of him. “What is Kansas? Speak, lass. I command it.”

  His aggressive attitude provoked her anger. She overcame her fear, pulled away and glared at him. Then turned to the other man. “Excuse me, sir, my name is Laurie Bernard. I’m confused, tired and frightened. I don’t know where I am or how I got here. I just want to return home. Can you help me? Please.”

  She sneaked a peek at Patrick to gauge his reaction.

  He clenched and unclenched his fingers, only to clench them again. He glared at the other man’s grinning face. Patrick seemed angry. Although the other man’s appearance unnerved her, she was glad he’d interrupted. How far would she have let things go had he not arrived? Her insides squirmed. She didn’t want to think about that.

  Patrick motioned for the other man to leave. Laurie held her breath, afraid to be left alone with the man who’d kissed her with such hunger. What if he tried to kiss her again? Could she resist? She stood straighter. Of course, she wouldn’t permit it. He was a total stranger. She shouldn’t have allowed him to kiss her the first time.

  The other man swept his gaze around the area seeming reluctant to leave. Finally, he whirled on his heel and entered a trail in the woods.

  Patrick faced her. He moved closer. She stepped back.

  She flicked a glance toward the trail the other man took. Should she follow him? Maybe he would help her find her way home. Probably not. She peered at Patrick through her lashes.

  His jaw tightened and he took another step forward.

  She bit her bottom lip but held her ground. They silently contemplated each other.

  “This way, Mistress Laurie.” With his lips curved in a brittle smile, he grasped her by the elbow.” We go to the hall where we will unravel this puzzle. And I assure you, we will.”

  Hall? She dug her heels in, pulling back. “Wait. I don’t know who you are.”

  “Patrick MacLachlan of Clan MacLachlan, your humble servant.” He bent at the waist in an old fashioned, formal bow.

  She snorted, and his eyes widened in disbelief. Laurie sucked back the urge to grin. “I don’t believe there’s a humble bone in your body and you are definitely no one’s servant.”

  “Quite true. And you are nae innocent,” he taunted. “Do you throw yourself at every man you meet?”

  Insulted, she opened her mouth to give him a good tongue-lashing, but he held up his hand, stopping her mid-breath. He ground his teeth, obviously working to suppress unwarranted irritation.

  “There is something you need to understand, lass. I have claimed you as my own, with my cousin Stephen as my witness. I choose to believe you are an innocent and not a wanton. You belong to me now. If I ever find you with another man you will not enjoy the consequences.”

  “How dare you! You don’t own me,” Laurie sputtered. She couldn’t believe the gall of the infuriating man.

  “You became mine when you returned my kiss,” Patrick said.

  “Are you for real?”

  “Aye. Come this way.” He again took a firm hold on her elbow, daring her with hard eyes to ignore his command.

  “Phiff.” She exhaled and jumped from the man’s grasp. “Why did you kiss me?”

  His full lips slowly curved at the corners then widened into a devilish grin. Her mind turned to mush.

  “I wanted to.”

  The rumble from his chest did enticing things; low, in the core of her sex. With effort, she ignored the seductive sensation. “Do you always do whatever you want?”

  Still smiling, he nodded. “Aye. Now come.”

  “No.” Laurie met the challenge in his eyes.

  He glanced at the darkening sky. She followed his gaze. Clouds moved in fast, dimming the brightness of the moon. “Suit yourself, lass.” He turned away and strode off into the woods.

  Left alone in the dark was definitely not what she wanted. “Wait! I’m coming.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Caitrina hovered at the edge of the wood, cloaked in the glamour of invisibility. She raised her arms over head in a languid stretch until her spine aligned with a soft crack. It felt so good to have shed the gardener glamour. Posing as a human in the twenty-first century was taxing beyond measure.

  She ran tactile fingers over her silk gown, relishing its soft luxury and drew in the fragrance of fir with bliss. Magic hummed. The verdant forest nearly crackled with her power. Her smile widened as sparks ignited and flashed between the intended couple.

  The plan progressed as intended. She clapped her hands, more pleased than she’d been since forced to leave the shores of her beloved faerie paradise Tir-nan-Óg—land o’ heart’s desire—centuries ago. She would outwit the queen and win the first part of the challenge.

  Easy as snapping her fingers. Almost.

  When Laurie ran after the MacLachlan chief, Caitrina purred like a feline who’d caught its prey. Satisfaction shimmered within her mind, but then she thought about Oonagh and her stomach clenched. The High Queen of the Fae believed the challenge would force Caitrina into an eternity of servitude. She curled her hands into fists. No way would she let that happen.

  A change in atmospheric pressure prickled over her skin. Sensing Munn nearby, she stilled, closed her eyes, and summoned her image with a mere thought. Without a whisper of sound, her form emerged and took shape. Inhaling sharply, she spun to face the meddlesome brownie.

  The wee man slowly approached, even though his expression twisted into a portrait of fear. Stubborn brùnaidh.

  “What mischief caused thee?” he demanded. “Where be the old chief? His lady?”

  Caitrina stepped in close and frowned at the fool. She needed to get him out of the way before he endangered the completion of her tasks.

  Although she smelled his terror, he held his ground and returned her glare. “Be gone! You dinnae belong here. Cease darkening MacLachlan lands.

  “’Tis none of your concern.”

  “Aye, ’tis. You toy with the young chief.”

  “You’ll not interfere.” With a flick of her wrist, she cast him far away.

  His image blinked out on a horrified scream.

  Caitrina smiled, brushed some residual dust from her gown, dissolved into a passing plume of mist, and rode the breeze toward Castle Lachlan and her pawns.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Clouds moved swiftly across a starless sky, casting the land below in shadow. Every muscle in Patrick’s body tightened with acute awareness of the woman who walked behind him along the wooded path. Although she dressed in the fine cloth of a highborn lady, when she stumbled over loose stones in her unsuitable shoes, she swore under her breath like a low-bred whore.

  Had inattentive guardians allowed her too much freedom, and she’d lingered more than she should within hearing of stable lads or foul-mouthed warriors?

  He would forgive her the minor failing, though suspected she’d require a heavy hand to guide her. Who cared so little for the lass they allowed her to wander about unescorted?

  She grabbed hold of his arm and tugged hard. “Stop.”

  “What?” Patrick ignored the jolt from her touch, stopped in place and twisted around to glare at her.

  “How much f
arther? We’ve been walking a long time.” She puffed out a breath and brushed a stray hair from her face.

  “Not far.” He caught her frown and a glimmer of gold in the moonlight. Why did she wear his stepmother’s brooch? He was tempted to question her, but he’d wait until he secured her in the castle.

  Patrick whirled on his heel and started walking, expecting her to continue following. He squeezed his fist tight then uncurled his fingers. Too many questions rattled around in his head.

  Was she involved with fae magic? Munn claimed the faerie, Caitrina, caused the visions. Was the lass in league with the faerie?

  They left the trees, finding the sky had cleared. Patrick straightened his shoulders with pride at the sight of Castle Lachlan in the glow of the full moon. The lass would be impressed. He stopped and waited for her to catch up. Disappointment tweaked his pride when she didn’t compliment the fortification of his home. When he grasped her elbow to guide her down the grassy slope, she trembled.

  Maybe she wasn’t of his station. Nae. Her garments were too fine not to be.

  She stared toward the castle, took a step, hesitated, and almost tripped him. He urged her forward with light pressure. She stopped when they neared the beach across the water from the castle.

  “Oh. My. God.” Her trembling increased, and when she tried to pull away, he released her arm. “This can’t be for real. Please, tell me that’s not a medieval castle.”

  “Medieval? ’Tis my home.”

  She teetered and collapsed against him.

  He shook her. Even with gentle slaps to her cheeks, she didn’t respond.

  For all the saints, what was he to do with her now? He lifted her and carried her to the water’s edge. She weighed naught and was easy to carry.

  Patrick placed her into the currach he’d left on the beach. She didn’t stir, and a knot of alarm twisted in his stomach. He climbed in behind her and sat. The small boat, made of skins and wicker, pitched. He carefully settled himself and pulled the lass onto his lap—to balance the boat, not for any other reason.

  Paddle in hand, he rowed toward the opposite shore.

  He frowned at the limp woman. Women didn’t swoon in his presence. There must be something wrong with the lass. At least her chest rose and fell with her breath. He hadn’t scared her to death.

  He shouldn’t have kissed her, but hadn’t been able to stop.

  Feathery lashes graced smooth cheeks silvered in the moonlight. Patrick feasted on the sight like a starving man. His chest tightened for lack of air. This wouldn't do. He tore his gaze away. An ardent fondness for the lass would bring naught but trouble.

  Though she belonged to him, it would be best to maintain a distance. He couldn’t afford becoming attached. Not with the false betrothal hanging over his head. But damn, he desired the lass with every breath.

  Arriving at the castle side of the small bay, he jumped into the shallow water. The boat scraped along the bottom when pulled onto the beach. Still, she didn’t stir.

  Patrick lifted the woman, held on tight, and strode across the shingle to the castle. Entering through the main gate, he made haste to the wheel stair. The tight space required caution to ensure the woman’s head didn’t bang against rough stone.

  In the great hall, he found his cousin with Elspeth seated before the fire. His sister leapt from her chair and ran to him. “Stephen told me what happened in Fir-wood.” Her gaze slid over the woman in his arms, and her eyes widened. “Did you hurt her?”

  “Ach. She but swooned,” he said. “You have nae faith in me, wee sister. I dinnae hurt lasses.”

  Elspeth gave him a sharp look. “I ken that verra well, yet these are unusual events. Bring her to my solar, she requires rest.”

  His sister hurried toward the far stair, signaling for him to follow. He did, until she entered the passageway. He continued past her, up another flight of steps, along the long corridor, to kick open the door to his bedchamber.

  “Laurie.” The unfamiliar name sounded pleasant as it rolled from his lips.

  She didn’t respond. He placed her on the bed and twisted to reach for a cover.

  “Patrick, you cannae,” Elspeth said softly. “’Tis not fitting for her to be in your bedchamber.” His sister stood in the doorway, frowning at him.

  “She is my responsibility.”

  “’Tis wrong.”

  “I have claimed her. ’Tis for me to decide what is right.” His tone held unintended harshness, but he wanted his sister to understand the significance of his position. “Hear me, she stays locked in this chamber until I discover if she poses a threat.”

  Elspeth arched a feminine brow and he fought the urge to smile. His lips twitched slightly before he sighed and looked away.

  The edge of the mattress sank when he sat beside Laurie. His fingers grazed soft skin as he covered her with a fur. Her feminine scent filled his nostrils, quickened his heartbeat, drove him to the edge of desire. She was comely with fine features. Allowing his gaze to roam freely, emotions, long dormant, surfaced.

  Mine.

  His chest tightened, and he found it hard to breathe. Who was this woman who’d stolen his breath?

  He brushed his knuckles over her silky, golden hair before glancing at his sister. She worried overmuch. His honor insisted he protect the strange lass. He put a finger to his lips and went to stand beside Elspeth. “Return to the hall, Beth,” he whispered. “I will ensure nae harm comes to her. But when she wakes, I will demand answers to my questions.”

  Elspeth left the chamber with a shake of her head. When she was gone, Patrick closed the door and strode to the fire. He placed his hand on the mantel and lowered his head to his arm. In his mind, he repeated the evening’s events. He didn’t care for the chaos the lass provoked.

  Aye, he wanted her, but in his bed, not awakening emotions better left dead.

  Damnable tangle.

  Why was she wearing his stepmother's brooch? What did she have to do with his parents?

  He wanted answers and he wanted them now.

  * * *

  Elspeth made her way along the passage to her bedchamber, musing over the evening’s happenings. Her brother’s heart shone in his eyes for all to see. An unusual occurrence. His out-of-character behavior took her by surprise and provoked concern.

  First Patrick's visions. He didn’t have the gift. His visions were an anomaly. Now the appearance of the lass. These were the only events her brother showed interest in since their parents disappeared.

  He claimed the woman. Interesting, indeed.

  Elspeth slid her palm over her chest where a pinching sensation stole her breath. She missed her parents, especially her mother. A deep inhale and exhale eased the ache.

  Patrick took their parents disappearance particularly hard, having been out of the country, only to return after they’d vanished. He blamed himself for not coming home sooner. For not being there when their father needed him.

  He claimed responsibility for the difficulty over Isobell Lamont and the ever-present feud. None of what happened should be blamed on Patrick, but Elspeth couldn’t convince him of the fact.

  Over the years since the disappearance, her brother had become more and more morose. She couldn’t figure out how to help him. And their brother Archibald, Patrick’s twin, still traveled with her betrothed for the king and was of no use with these strange happenings.

  Elspeth entered her bedchamber and sat in her favorite chair before the fire. What good was her gift of visions when she’d received none to guide her? Even so, she recognized Patrick’s desire for the woman.

  She sensed no darkness from the stranger—only light.

  The woman might be exactly what her brother needed to get him out of his black, brooding moods. His interactions with the lass warranted watching.

  * * *

  Waking to the comfort of warmth, Laurie slid a hand across fur covers, the unexpected sensual sensation somehow reassuring. The calm shattered, replaced with unease when she
sensed someone else in the room. She opened her eyes to find Patrick standing by the fireplace, observing her through hooded eyes. Their gazes met. In that instant, reality crashed down on her.

  She bolted upright. Adrenaline kicked in. She skittered back against the headboard. The man grumbled something harsh under his breath, and she swallowed hard.

  “Dinnae fash yourself, lass. Nae one here will harm you.”

  Laurie peered at him, worried she was teetering on the verge of hysteria. “Where am I?”

  “In my bedchamber at Castle Lachlan.” He dragged a stool next to the bed and sat.

  His gaze held hers. Heat crept into her cheeks. Unable to look away, she shivered, remembering what he said about her belonging to him. “Where is Castle Lachlan?” And how did I get here? She bit her lower lip. The same questions hovered beyond the grasp of her conscious mind before she fainted.

  He stared, long and hard, before answering. “The Highlands.”

  She gulped and glanced at the furs spread across the bed. An extremely large four-poster bed with a canopy and heavy blue curtains pulled back at each corner post. The stone walls were covered in tapestries. Tapestries that looked much newer than any she’d seen at the Cloisters in New York or at any other museum for that matter. A huge fireplace took up most of one wall. A fire crackled, lending an ordinary air to a setting that was anything but.

  Similar to antiques she’d seen in museums were several chairs and a table. Only these looked new. Excellent reproductions? Could they be originals?

  With growing apprehension, she noted the lack of lamps. There were no light switches or outlets. Candles lit the room. Something was terribly wrong if what she was beginning to suspect was true. She flipped her gaze to Patrick. He sat like the king of his domain, exuding barely leashed power, stoically watching her.

  She didn’t imagine the Highlands he spoke of were in North Carolina. She’d once read a fantasy novel about a woman who’d been sucked into a book and traveled through space and time. Although she feared the answer, she had to ask.