Highland Charm: First Fantasies

by April Holthaus

  Meandering around the meadow, Laurie attempted to appear as if she searched for the tiny plants. She tried to remember exactly where Patrick found her. Maybe the knoll on the other side of the hut. She walked in that direction.

  The mound seemed quite ordinary. Not a place of magic.

  The only thing growing on the little hillock was rich green grass and toadstools.

  She strode to the center and stopped, positive she’d found the spot where she’d fallen at Patrick’s feet. She shot a glance at each of her companions. Duncan held a rigid stance, staring into the trees at the edge of the knoll, guarding them against any potential danger.

  * * *

  Patrick shook his head. His man needed some additional training if he didn’t spy Patrick hidden in the coppice of trees. He’d sat on the thick branch high up in the large oak since before daybreak. He’d predicted Laurie would sneak off to Fir-wood and try to return home to her own century, though he didn’t believe she possessed the ability. Last night, he’d guessed what the two women were contriving when Elspeth made her request. So here he sat on his rump waiting.

  Waiting for what? He didn’t know.

  He kneaded his stiff neck with his fingers, while holding on to an overhanging branch with the other hand for balance. He yawned. Patrolling the MacLachlan border through the night left him near to exhaustion. They’d been lucky, finding no trouble.

  Clansmen slept soundly in their beds. Cattle grazed unmolested, guarded by few sleepy keepers. Lambkins sought their mother’s tits while herders huddled by dwindling fires.

  Before returning to the castle, Patrick rode to this spot to wait for Elspeth and Laurie. Frustrated he hadn’t caught the perpetrators of the previous raid, yet glad all was quiet, he climbed the ancient oak and watched the sunrise. His tail, some of his best men, waited in a clearing not far away, close enough if he needed assistance.

  The lass’s movements caught his attention.

  Laurie closed her eyes and said a silent prayer. She felt nothing. Spinning around in a circle, she still felt nothing. Sitting down, there was nothing. No tinkling sound. Not even the mere hint of an exotic scent in the air. There was no impression of unnatural energy, nor unusual surge of power. No bright, white light, nor kaleidoscope colors.

  There was absolutely nothing out of the ordinary.

  Elspeth and Aine continued working, collecting plants a short distance away. The guardsmen paid little attention to Laurie, intent on watching for trouble.

  Several hours passed with her sitting on Patrick’s plaid in the center of the knoll with nothing happening, at least, nothing magical. She couldn’t concentrate. Her thoughts strayed, her mind’s eye seeing Patrick. She imagined him walking toward her, through a wildflower meadow, his gait determined. His chestnut hair pulled back in a tight queue. His hungry, dark eyes sought hers. As he neared, her heart raced. She wanted to reach out and touch him.

  Then his image faded.

  Stop it, her mind screamed. She glanced around the knoll, chills raced along her spine. It was imperative she stay focused on the task at hand, not dream about the man who made her heart throb erratically. She couldn’t allow her purpose to cloud with her attraction to Patrick. Staying wasn’t an option. She needed to go home.

  Mid-afternoon, the rest of the group ate and drank the leftover food. Laurie refused to join them. If anyone thought this strange, they didn’t comment.

  Finally, the panniers were full of plants and the group readied to return to the castle. The others mounted their horses, except for Elspeth.

  Laurie still sat in the center of the knoll, her hands folded in her lap. Elspeth approached. “Nothing has happened. You remain.”

  Tears burned the back of Laurie’s eyes, but she refused to shed them. She held her head high while she gazed at Elspeth.

  The young woman gave her a half smile. “We must return to the castle before darkness falls. Mayhap ’twill work another day.”

  “Yes, I’ll return. Perhaps another time.” Laurie’s shoulders sagged. What did she think would happen? Was she foolish enough to believe by just standing there she’d miraculously return home?

  She walked with Elspeth to the horses. They mounted while the rest of the group quietly watched. Then they rode in the direction of the castle.

  Caitrina said she needed to find her destiny. Was Patrick truly her destiny?

  * * *

  Patrick sat in his treetop hideout grinning like a fool. The lass would stay. She couldn’t leave! He had time to persuade her to become his mistress. Jubilant, he jumped to the ground and ran through the woods toward the spot where the men and horses waited.

  As he rounded a thicket, a moaning noise caught his attention, a sound not of the wood. He stopped. Standing perfectly still and quiet, he listened. The noise came again. He pulled out his knife while peering into the thicket.

  There it was again.

  He moved with stealth, his body tense, alert to danger, movements calculated, ready for attack. Pushing aside some branches, he found a motionless form behind the undergrowth. Patrick eased closer. Reaching out with his foot, he nudged the body. It didn’t move. He reached down and rolled the man over.

  Ruari MacLachlan, a kinsman, a clan herdsman, moaned but didn’t stir.

  Patrick knelt next to the injured man and gently tried to rouse him. The young man was insensible but still breathed. Patrick ran his hands over the man. No blood. Nothing more than a bump on the lad’s head.

  “What befell you, Ruari?” he murmured.

  Patrick shook his head and, with a sharp whistle, signaled for his lads to come to him.

  Within a blink, the men who made up his tail surrounded him. Big men, they were strongly built and well-armed. Stephen stepped from among the others and knelt on the ground next to Patrick, his gaze fixed on young Ruari. “What do you think happened?”

  “I ken not. He is a long way from home. Have some of the men make a litter. Dispatch one of the ghillies with a message, our swiftest runner, to the castle. Send two scouts south, fast riders, to his dwelling to search for signs of trouble.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Sands of Time

  Munn sat on a large flat rock at the side of the still pool. Leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his chin on his hands, he gazed at his reflection in the turquoise water. Discouraged was he. He tried and tried to find the right string of sounds and images to release himself from this dreadful place.

  But here he still was—a failure.

  He’d let down his clan and his chief.

  “Ach,” he cried. “What to do?”

  The tranquil water turned turbulent before his eyes. His reflection shattered and vanished. A whirlpool appeared where his image had been, foam swirling on the surface. He fell back in fear. However, his curiosity got the better of him. He leaned forward once again, to look into the water.

  The pool calmed and turned an inky black.

  Unable to see his likeness any longer, he thought to run away. Instead, he froze in place when the water again swirled. The murkiness cleared, the water became translucent. From the depths in the center of the pool appeared a bright white light. It spun, rising toward the surface, then expanded and changed. Soft blues and lavenders mixed with the white, slowly swirling, coalescing into the image of a woman.

  Munn stared in awe at the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Her face shone bright with an iridescent glow, mesmerizing to behold. She rose from the water, her magnificent raiment clinging to her sumptuous form, clothed as she was in a spun silver diaphanous gown. She was superbly fashioned, tall and lissome, her skin a pale opalescence. Her glorious silky hair, a brilliant white gold, caressed her shapely curves, falling to her feet in glimmering curls. As she moved, her hair and skin glistened with a fine dusting of silver powder.

  Entranced by her dazzling blue eyes, Munn couldn’t glance away. “Who are you?” His words came out a croak.

  “I am known as Oonagh,” she said, her eloq
uent voice, a song to his ears.

  Her music ran over him, soothed him, lulled as he was by her glamour.

  Oonagh gazed upon him and slowly raised her arms to the sky. A searing breeze blew off the hot sand, disturbing the tranquility of the oasis.

  Munn’s trance broke. He shook his head, his daze clearing as he peered at the woman before him. His breath caught in his throat, his whole body trembled. He knew of her. She was the High Queen of the Sithichean, her power absolute, as she took tribute from the lesser queens.

  Fear seeped through his veins. What did she want of him?

  “Little man, be calm,” the queen said. “I am here to free you from the enchantment of Princess Caitrina.”

  He wanted to jump for joy. Oh, to be free. “She had nae right to send me to this horrid place. I must be off to warn the MacLachlan.”

  “Soon.” Oonagh presented him a beguiling smile. “There is one thing, my little man, before I release you. You must pledge allegiance. You must perform a service to me.”

  Munn inhaled a quick breath, his delight vanishing. He was in serious trouble. She possessed the power to do unbearable things. What would she expect of him?

  He wanted to run, to escape the enthrallment of her piercing blue eyes. He didn’t dare. “Aye,” he said in a whisper.

  Oonagh narrowed her eyes. “You will vow to me, on your honor, and that of Clan MacLachlan? You will perform the task I name? Obey my command above all others?”

  “Aye.” Again, Munn answered in a trembling voice.

  “Kneel before me.”

  He fell to his knees at the dainty feet of the queen and bowed his head. After a suitable time had passed, he raised his gaze. A jeweled scepter had appeared in Oonagh’s delicate hand. She pointed the golden instrument toward him.

  “Here, little brownie. Place your hand on the Scepter of Truth and vow your troth to me.”

  Munn stared at the scepter. He didn’t want to touch it. He didn’t want to make a pledge of fidelity to the queen. But what else was he to do?

  He placed his hand on the large round tip of the scepter. Pain shot up his arm as if lightning burned through his veins. He tried to pull his arm away, but couldn’t.

  “It is my will you keep the MacLachlan and his lady from the future apart. You will keep them from sharing the most intimate, ancient and carnal of dances. This you must pledge.” Oonagh sang, using her fae power along with the persuasion of her melodious voice.

  Bile burned in the pit of Munn’s stomach. “Aye. I pledge,” he said, relieved when the pain eased. He believed himself lucky to get off so easily. That was until the queen’s expression changed, and he knew a terror like none other. Her sensual smile flashed pure evil.

  “Failure will condemn you to an eternity trapped within the Sands of Time.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Strathlachan

  She didn’t mean to be a burden, but Laurie’s dismal mood hung over the group like the dark clouds cluttering the sky. As the day grew short, the gentle breeze changed into a fierce howling wind, slowing the group’s progress along the ridge.

  “Lady Elspeth, a storm’s coming. We might find protection from the wind in the forest,” Duncan raised his voice above the din.

  “Aye,” Elspeth agreed.

  Duncan led them into the shelter of the trees, following a game trail. The tight path weaved through dense undergrowth. Branches caught loose clothing and scratched exposed skin, forcing their pace to a slow walk. All was quiet, save for the wind whistling through the limbs overhead. There was no sign of animals or birds, as if the turbulence sent them seeking shelter.

  Near dusk, the hushed group rode into the stable yard, wind whipping around them. Leaves and twigs, and blowing dust swirled in eddies, making it difficult to see.

  The men dismounted and several grooms came running. The boys caught the stallions’ reins and led them away. The men grabbed hold of the mares’ reins and guided the horses into the protection of the stable where the women could dismount out of the biting wind.

  One of the guardsmen assisted Laurie from her horse. She thought his name might be Dhughall, but she wasn’t sure. A chill crept into her bones. Pulling Patrick’s plaid close around her, she slipped out a hand and rubbed her mare’s neck, wordlessly thanking the gentle beast for carrying her safely to shelter.

  Bleak numbness pervaded her mind. She didn’t want to face her failure, not yet.

  She attempted a smile for the guardsman after he removed the pannier from her horse and slung the leather bag over his shoulder. He inclined his head and turned away. Duncan and the other guardsman also carried panniers over their shoulders, having taken them from Aine and Elspeth’s horses.

  The group left the calm of the stable, the men carefully assisting the women down the slippery slope toward the beach. The wind whipped at them, whirling around, tugging at their clothing.

  When they reached the water’s edge, Duncan signaled to the other shore for the oarsmen to row the boats across to the mainland. Laurie watched as they made their way through the choppy water. White caps splashed against the hulls, tossing salty spray at the oarsmen, soaking them.

  The Highlanders were well accustomed to these fierce conditions, but she wasn’t. She pulled Patrick’s plaid tighter, apprehension spurring her to say a silent prayer.

  The boats beached and the men handed the women over to sit on the wooden benches. The small craft bobbed in the surf, forcing her to grip the gunwale. The three men jumped in.

  With an order from Duncan, the oarsmen were pushing away from shore when a ghillie came running. “Wait!” he called, yelling over the crash of the waves and the screaming wind. He sprinted to the water’s edge where he bent over, placed his hands on his knees and gulped air.

  “Hold up,” Duncan ordered the oarsmen as he jumped over the side of the boat and joined the lad on the shingle.

  “The chief requests the castle folk make ready to receive the injured Ruari MacLachlan.” Even though short of breath from his run, the ghillie still managed to get out his message in a loud, clear voice.

  “Lad, do you ken what happened to Ruari?” Duncan shouted.

  The ghillie inhaled a deep breath and yelled back, “Nae.”

  Elspeth faced Duncan, concern showing in her silver eyes. “The men will have to move slower to accommodate a litter. They may get caught in the storm.”

  “Dinnae fash yourself, lass. Your brother and Stephen will ensure they get through.”

  “I thank you for bringing the message,” Elspeth said to the young man. “Ride across with us and partake of a meal.”

  “Aye. Thank you kindly.” The ghillie climbed into the boat with Aine and Laurie and one of the guardsmen, making for a tight fit.

  Duncan climbed into the boat with Elspeth and ordered the oarsmen to proceed. The boats moved through the rough water to the castle, salt spray misting everyone.

  Upon reaching the castle’s beach, they climbed from the boats and hiked up the slight hill to the gate. Once in the courtyard, one of the guardsmen and Aine took the panniers and headed to the kitchen, the ghillie following. The rest of the group ascended the wheel stair.

  A hush fell over the room when they entered the hall, already crowded with men and a few women seated at the lower tables.

  Miserable from the day’s fiasco, Laurie dropped onto a bench at the first table she came to. She didn’t know how to assist these people in the preparations for the injured man though she worried about his condition. She didn’t think she could cope with the deficiencies of primitive medicine up close.

  Her stomach rolled. Thank God, she hadn’t eaten much.

  She sat alone at the trestle table, Elspeth and Duncan having left the hall intent on their preparations for the injured man. Some of the men seated at a nearby table stared at her with open curiosity. Others ignored her. None of them sought conversation with her.

  After a short time, Aine entered the hall and covered one of the tables near the hearth wi
th a white cloth. A serving girl followed, placing a cauldron of water on a hook over the fire. Another appeared carrying a large earthenware ewer. A third brought a stack of clean cloths. The latter items they placed near the cloth-covered table.

  Elspeth returned to the hall, having removed her damp clothing. She’d donned a long white linen leine that graced her ankles. Over top, she wore a striped wool arisaid, a cloak that fell to her heels, fastened at her breast by a beautiful silver and moonstone brooch and belted at her waist with leather and chain. Laurie learned shortly after her arrival the arisaid was the traditional dress of Highland women, though Elspeth, being nobility, most often wore gowns similar to those worn by women in France.

  Elspeth carried two baskets, one contained bandages made from rags, a needle and thread, the other nearly overflowed with small pots and pouches. She placed these at the end of the table and joined Aine in a hushed conversation.

  Laurie only heard a fragment of what they said—a word here and there.

  She observed the activity in the hall as if watching a film. She found it appalling how useless she was in this time. On top of that, her failure to return home left her feeling inept and unsure. She was lost in a world not her own.

  What if I’m stuck in this barbaric place? What if I can never go home?

  Her stomach clenched and she found it hard to breathe. The old warning rang true. You needed to be careful of what you wished. She’d wanted a new life, but being stuck here was definitely not what she had in mind.

  She was wallowing in self-pity. But who would blame her? She was damp and dirty. Hungry. Stuck in this world.

  Her depression blinded her to most of the activity around her. Motion near the doorway at the other end of the great hall drew her gaze. Donald MacLachlan leaned against the passageway wall just outside the rear entrance. He was in an animated conversation—arms flailing—with a woman Laurie didn’t recognize. More than likely a serving girl based on the way she was dressed.

  Donald suddenly froze and stared into the hall to where the preparations for the injured man were taking place. He tilted his head and whispered something to his companion. The woman responded in a low voice and departed.