Highland Charm: First Fantasies

by April Holthaus

  “Laurie!” Elspeth jumped to her feet “What is it? What has befallen you?”

  Laurie didn’t have the breath to answer. She stumbled over the gravel path and threw out an arm, reaching for the wall, but it was too far away and she was too weak. She slid to the ground and lost consciousness.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Patrick crept through the dense forest on silent feet. Branches slapped at him, scratching his skin. Hearing the screech of an owl and the flutter of wings nearby, he stood motionless. He peered into the dark. It pressed in on him, a heavy weight against his chest.

  A terror dream flashed in his mind, an assailant’s heavy net entrapping him.

  Seconds passed. He drew an uneasy breath. The panic subsided. Comforted by his faith that Laurie remained safely ensconced within his castle’s walls, he released the air from his lungs and soundlessly moved forward.

  His men skulked close behind.

  They were rewarded for their stealth when they came upon a well-lit camp. A large bonfire burned in a clearing. Carefully moving within the shadows, Patrick crawled on his stomach through the brush, getting as close as he dared.

  Secure in their arrogance, Maclay’s men hadn’t positioned a guard to signal their enemies’ approach. The horses were also unguarded, tethered haphazardly in a small meadow nearby.

  Three men sat huddled together by the fire, passing skins, talking loudly, hurling lewd insults at one another, their speech slurred with drink. Four additional men moved amidst the flickering fire light, stumbling with their drunkenness. Seven inebriated men. They would be easy odds for the MacLachlan warriors.

  Disappointment tasted bitter in Patrick’s mouth. Maclay was not among them.

  Patrick signaled to his men and they silently moved to encircle the camp.

  A birdcall sounded. A wildcat howled. Horses whinnied, restless, then free to stampede. Chaos ensued.

  * * *

  Although his men argued against the wisdom, Patrick sent them ahead to the castle with the few prisoners who’d chosen to surrender rather than die. It gave him the chance to scout for Maclay. But he’d never expected to come across something so troubling.

  Munn lay in the mud at the side of the trail. Battered and bruised, his clothing torn and singed, the wee man curled into himself. Terrible pain was visible in the creases of his weathered face.

  Patrick helped the brownie sit against a tree.

  “Ach, chief, I have betrayed you. The Sithichean queen, she beguiled me. I vowed to keep the lass from the future away.” He hung his head.

  “What have you done?”

  The wee man didn’t answer. He faded as if about to completely disappear. Ever so slowly, he returned to solid form only to fade again. His body convulsed when his form reappeared once more.

  Although the flickering repetition was difficult to watch, Patrick found himself transfixed. When Munn faded again, Patrick touched the brownie’s shoulder. His hand moved through Munn’s fading image and an unbearable pain shot up Patrick’s arm and into his chest.

  A strangled scream escaped his throat. Spasms of excruciating pain shook the length of his body. He fell to the ground, paralyzed, unable to move. Relentless pain throbbed within Patrick’s chest as if his essence, the substance of his very life had drained from him and into Munn. One last spasm raked Patrick’s body and he mercifully fell unconscious.

  He regained consciousness a little at a time. He opened his eyes a slit, a bright white light almost blinding him. He tried to move, but his muscles wouldn’t respond. With great effort, he managed to shift his head enough to see Munn sitting next to him, watching him through wary eyes.

  Patrick hardly believed what he saw. No bruises marred Munn’s wrinkled old skin. The man seemed fully recovered. Yet Patrick felt weaker and more helpless than a newborn bairn.

  Then he noticed the beautiful woman standing over him. A shimmering silver aura surrounded her, the source of the intense light. She moved her hands in intricate patterns, softly chanting in a language ancient as the pagan gods.

  Patrick again attempted to move, something as simple as bending his fingers, but even that he couldn’t manage. He wasn’t capable of forming words to speak either. Fear pooled in his gut and he tried to make sense of the situation. Before he had much of a chance, his vision faded once more.

  Sunrays warmed Patrick’s face when he woke for the second time. He gingerly moved his fingers. They worked fine. He moved his arm and pushed up into a sitting position. Scanning the area, he discovered he was alone. He almost believed he dreamt the whole thing, yet deep in his gut, he knew he hadn’t.

  Why did the fae meddle in his life? His thoughts flashed to Laurie. He needed to get home before something else fae-like occurred.

  * * *

  Laurie opened her eyes. The ceiling looked familiar—like the one in the room she shared with Patrick. But that didn’t make sense. The last thing she remembered—

  A movement turned her attention from the stone ceiling. Laurie blinked to bring the figure into focus. A worried Elspeth stood near the bed. A frowning Alexander was a step back. He was glaring. Laurie moved the multitude of plaids atop her and raised her hand to her forehead, trying to remember what happened.

  “You are awake,” Elspeth said.

  “I’m sorry. Did I faint again?”

  “Aye.” Elspeth raised a brow. “When do you plan to tell Patrick?”

  “Tell him what?”

  “About the bairn.” Elspeth smiled.

  Alexander burst out laughing, and Laurie shut her gaping mouth.

  “How do you know?”

  “My gift.”

  Laurie reclined against the pillows. I’m in the motherly way.

  Joy spread from her heart outward. I’m going to have a baby.

  Nothing could make her more happy.

  At the sound of Patrick’s voice, she lifted her head to listen. She could just make out the sound of his husky voice while he spoke to Duncan outside the bedchamber door. She sat up, bracing herself against the headboard.

  The door jerked open. Patrick stood in the doorway, looking at her quizzically.

  She rushed her gaze over him, searching for injuries. He looked fine. Damn fine.

  “We will leave you then.” Elspeth gathered some items from the bedside, flicked a glance at her brother and whispered, “Aine must have told him.” She grabbed Alexander by the hand and hustled past her brother.

  As soon as they were gone, Patrick crossed the room and pulled Laurie into his arms. His passionate kiss removed every thought from her mind.

  When he ended the kiss, he didn’t release her. Glancing at his face, she saw something unexpected in his eyes. Hurt?

  She needed to apologize for the argument she’d caused before he left.

  “Why did you not tell me you carry my heir?”

  Laurie stiffened within his embrace. Men had such fragile egos, and Highland chiefs were the worst. “Yes, I’m with child.” She couldn’t help the snarky smile that curled her lips. “Our child. Yours and mine. I only now learned myself.”

  Several emotions crossed Patrick’s face before he released her and stepped away. “Are you well then?”

  “Yeah. Listen, I’m sorry for arguing with you before you left.”

  “Me too.” Patrick rubbed the back of his neck. “You must ken ’twas only to protect you.”

  “I do understand.”

  “Good.” He sat on the bed next to her, stroking her arm while he spoke. “We found their camp. Maclay wasn’t there. He continues to roam free. For that, I am truly sorry.”

  “Then I’m still not safe.” A chill swept her spine at the mere mention of the lunatic’s name.

  Patrick reached for her and pulled her into his embrace, holding her within the warmth and safety of his strong arms. “I will protect you, sweetling. Always.”

  * * *

  Shortly afterward, Patrick met with Stephen in the great hall. The warning horn blew loud and clear, i
nterrupting their discussion.

  His man, Dunall, hurried into the hall, huffing and puffing. “Archibald approaches the bay on a lathered steed.”

  Archibald never mistreated a horse. “Something must be wrong,” Patrick mused aloud and dashed to the window. A clansman rowed his brother across the bay toward the castle.

  “What has happened?” Patrick bellowed as Archibald rushed into the hall, his eyes wide with panic.

  Attempting to catch his breath, Archibald gulped large quantities of air. “Lamont refuses to agree to the marriage. He is determined for Isobell to wed a clan chief.”

  “What else had you pushing your mount? Caused you to ride like the devil was on your tail?”

  “The devil is on my tail. Lamont plans to wage war. He rides with Uncle Donald and more than one hundred warriors.”

  Patrick’s jaw tightened. “How much of a lead have you?”

  “Two days. Mayhap three.”

  Patrick glanced at each person in the great hall, and then at his beautiful wife. He wanted more than anything in this world for her to be happy, and he’d wondered if that were possible here in his time. Now set before him was a resolution for everyone. His brother deserved to have love too.

  Patrick grasped Laurie’s hand. “Are you sure you know the way home?” He gave her a pointed look. “To the place of your birth?”

  “I believe I do.”

  “Well, then. I have made a decision. If Lamont wants Isobell to wed a chief she shall.” Patrick raised his hand to stop his brother’s expected retort. “You will become laird of this castle and Chief of Clan MacLachlan.”

  There was a collective intake of breath from those present in the hall. Archibald’s mouth hung open.

  “Close your mouth, Archie. ’Tis unbecoming of a great Highland chief.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “That you will be chief. We will leave, Laurie and me. As my rightful heir, you will take my place as chief. Lamont will be forced to approve your marriage. And Archie, if I were you, I would get Isobell to say her vow in front of the priest before Lamont arrives.”

  “I dinnae understand.”

  Laurie wrapped her arm around Patrick’s waist. He gazed at her and clearly saw her love for him in the depth of her eyes.

  “Tonight there is a full moon. I am taking my lady-wife home. We will make a new life for ourselves in her country.”

  * * *

  Late afternoon brought with it the threat of storms as they rode northeast along the loch. Laurie clutched the reins. The heavily bearded clouds roiled with thunder and lightning. The sky so murky the water below appeared a dark charcoal gray, the white caps shocking in contrast.

  Without warning, unfriendly riders bored down on them.

  The small MacLachlan party spurred their mounts, coaxing them into a burst of speed. Their flight was wild and dangerous. Laurie and her mount fell behind. Patrick slowed, risking the time to pull her from her horse to settle her behind him on his.

  She wrapped her arms around his waist and held on. They found themselves crossing the moor alone, having been separated from their escort.

  Maclay and several warriors rode down upon them.

  Patrick spurred their mount and they rode, fast and furious, precariously onward through the storm. The speed of their flight amazed her, as if Patrick’s magnificent gray stallion had sprung wings. She clung to Patrick, praying to the saints above for their safety and escape.

  He rode a zigzagging course, circling and backtracking in an attempt to lose their pursuers.

  Urging their horse to an even greater speed, they galloped across a field, racing toward the dense wood that edged the cleared space. When they reached the first trees, Patrick reined in and glanced back.

  “We’ve gained much-needed distance, but the cur still pursues,” he yelled over the din of the storm.

  They entered the wood, taking a narrow trail that climbed to higher ground. The storm intensified, the wind hurled stinging sleet. They traveled a narrow and steep track. Hoofs slipped and slid on the loose shale nearly loosing purchase.

  Laurie held tight to Patrick’s waist, much relieved when they reached level ground. When they traveled a short distance into the Fir-wood her pulse quickened. They were near the clearing at the edge of the faerie knoll.

  With Maclay not far behind, Patrick glanced back, and then quickly guided their horse onto the edge of the hillock.

  Everything changed as if they’d moved through a curtain from winter to spring.

  “We will be safe here. Maclay will not follow us.” Patrick helped Laurie from the horse.

  She stared in awe. The faerie knoll was a mysterious place. Hundreds of small dazzling white lights flickered around them. The sparkling lights hovered near the ground and up high, in the grass atop the knoll and in the nearby tree branches. The scene reminded her of her childhood, of watching lightning bugs, little glowing fireflies dancing in the night. She thought the sight amazing, and beautiful.

  “This place is known as the Sithichean Sluaigh. Legend has it the knoll is a habitat for faeries. I have heard the old folk say beams of brightly colored light are seen here on starless nights,” Patrick said with a dancing twinkle in his eyes.

  “Have you ever seen the lights?”

  “Nae.” He shook his head. “I have also heard tales that on occasion you can hear melodious faerie music coming from the verra depths of this mound. They say ’tis Finvarra’s rath though I believe he resides in Ireland.” The corner of his mouth twitched.

  Laurie smiled. “Really? Have you heard the faerie music?”

  “Nae, though when I was a child and learned about Munn, I was determined to catch a faerie of my own. I would sneak out of the castle and come here. I never succeeded in trapping a sprite, but I have never once doubted the fae’s existence.” He grinned. “They will keep us safe.”

  As Patrick knew faeries and brownies existed, he now believed time travel possible. His precious Laurie was proof of that. The mere thought of trying the experience made his knees weak.

  She told him about the wonders of her time. He marveled over her explanation of a satellite phone. He could imagine how amazing it would be to have the ability to speak to anyone, anywhere in the world, from anywhere else in the world. She told him about something called a laptop computer. Small enough to sit on his lap, but contained all of the learning from all the manuscripts in the king’s library. And something called an MP3 player filled with music. Her stories were well beyond his comprehension.

  He doubted he’d be at ease with her time. But for her, and for the bairns he planned to father, he’d try. He wanted her safe and he wanted healthy bairns. He was doing the right thing. Handing the leadership of the clan to his brother had been necessary to keep the peace and gave Patrick an excuse to take Laurie to her home.

  Determined to go through with the faerie magic, he opened his arms to her. She walked into his embrace. They hugged, secure in each other’s arms.

  “What if we get separated and only I return to the twenty-first century? I couldn’t bear losing you.” Laurie clung to him.

  He squeezed her tight. Stepping back, he held her at arm’s length. He gazed into her eyes, exposing for her all of his emotions. “Ach, lass. Nae matter what happens, I will find you. Even if I must travel through time to a thousand different places, I promise you, I will find you.”

  Patrick gazed around the knoll. The storm through which they had fled didn’t exist in this place. He hugged Laurie again before pulling away and clasping her hand. He gave a little squeeze and together they walked to the center of the knoll. He let go of her hand and wrapped his arms around her waist. “Hold on and dinnae let go.”

  At that moment, the full moon escaped from the clouds to shine brightly overhead, casting its silvery glow on the unusual spring-green grass of the knoll.

  Then it happened.

  The earth shook, the wind blew and the world as Patrick knew it ceased to exist.

>   Energy ignited his soul in a jolt of awareness that crowded out every other sense. He fell, falling downward, down...down...down into the swirling maelstrom. Choking against the scream that threatened to escape, he held his eyes closed tight. Yet bright lights flashed, scorching the back of his lids.

  His grasp on Laurie weakened. The force wrenched her away from him.

  No longer holding her hand, he was alone and lost in the frightening tempest.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  Anderson Creek, North Carolina

  Finn jolted awake, his heartbeat kicking in double time, his innate warning system screaming an alarm. Alert to potential danger, he lay motionless, listening. Noise came from outside, from the garden, muted voices.

  Adrenaline pumped through his veins. He’d learned, years ago during his short stint in the military, to channel the energy in a positive way. Taking several deep breaths, he imagined himself the calm warrior.

  He reached for his jeans from the chair next to the bed and tugged them on. He padded across the bedroom on bare feet, grabbing his sword from where it leaned against the wall before he left the room.

  His grip tightened on the hilt of his claymore, the two handed sword of the Highlanders. The antique weapon cost him a small fortune. Legend spoke of a faerie princess who kissed the moonstone in the middle of the cross section, bestowing upon the sword magical power. The legend claimed the weapon enhanced the skills of the warrior who possessed it. Iain and Douglas, the men he met shortly after he arrived to search for his cousin Laurie, instructed him in its use. The sword weighed about six pounds, and he’d massed the muscle and strength to wield it. He couldn’t best them yet, but he worked hard to acquire the skills.

  Had they planned a surprise attack?

  Douglas beat him into the mud during today’s practice. Finn rubbed the resulting ache at his hip. What was he thinking getting involved with the local reenactment group? The training was more grueling than he’d undergone as a marine.