Time Everlastin' Book 5

by Mickee Madden

  "Ye only have two uses," Dougie said. "Either ye reward us for yer capture, or grandmither Mavis will offer ye in sacrifice to the shrine."

  Reith's blood turned cold. "Sacrifice?"

  "Aye, she knows the ways o' magic," Dougie said. "Yer magic will free our clan king."

  "Ye’re daft," Reith said in a small voice. "No one can use a fairy's magic for aught."

  "Mavis can," Katie said, no warmth left in her eyes as they stared through Reith. "Wi' the return of The MacLachlan will come riches. So says the legend. He has but to eat yer heart to be free."

  "Ma heart?"

  Katie and her cousins nodded.

  "There be no legend o' eatin' the heart o' a fairy!" Reith said adamantly.

  "Mavis says itherwise," said Dougie.

  Ma heart, Reith said silently, and closed his eyes, welcoming the darkness. Ma heart belongs to Blue.

  * * *

  Blue bolted up on her bed of moss, panting in the encompassing darkness. Ma heart belongs to Blue, continued to resonate in her mind, the clarity of Reith's voice confusing her. With a flick of her right hand, she dispersed a mist, and soon the room was bathed in golden specks of lights.

  Still panting, she eased her dead legs off the side of her framed bed, and lowered her face into her hands. Her heart fluttered maddeningly, and her skin was cool beneath a fine sheen of perspiration. She didn't recall dreaming about him, and yet, his voice, his words, had invaded her sleep with no less force than if he had been shouting into her ear.

  Reason slowly gathered her wits. She stared across her private suite below the roots of the twisted oak, and tried to conjure up his location. Vaguely, she saw mortared walls and a naked bulb hanging from a ceiling. Reith lay atop a narrow bed. Wrapped in blankets— No...not blankets. Something. She couldn't make the scene come into sharper focus.

  Blue, warn Lachlan and Roan.

  His voice again. Weaker but nonetheless branding her mind.

  "He's in danger," she whispered, and the loathing in her mind and the love in her heart for him, went to war.

  Moments later, she sprouted her wings and swept from the suite. She passed through the oak and into a moonless night, and flew through a slightly opened window on the third floor of the mansion. Although the room was draped in darkness, she easily located Lachlan's side of the bed, lit upon the mattress, and extended her height. Without wasting a moment, she shook the laird.

  "Wake up!" she said in a harsh whisper. "Wake up!"

  Lachlan grunted and rolled onto his left side, away from her.

  "Lachlan!" She shook his upturned shoulder. "I think Reith is in trouble!"

  "Blue?" Beth said sleepily. "What about Reith?"

  Lachlan lit a match and turned up the oil lamp on the night table beside him. He squinted at Blue, his ruffled hair and unshaven face lending him a comical appearance.

  "Wha' abou' the laddie?"

  "I think he's in trouble," Blue repeated, watching Beth scoot into a sitting position against the headboard. "We have to find him!"

  Lachlan worked his dry mouth, yawned, and grinned sleepily. "It sounds like ye're a wee concerned."

  "Just because I'm worried doesn't mean—" She clamped her mouth shut, her wings twitching in annoyance.

  "You love him?" Lachlan completed. He yawned and briskly rubbed his palms up and down his face. When he lowered his hands to his lap, he eyed her speculatively. "Fegs, you dinna."

  "It's a bit early to be butting heads," Beth said.

  "Of course I'm worried!" Blue blustered. "He is a fairy."

  "Ostracized by none ither than Yer Greatness," Lachlan reminded, and flexed his bare shoulders.

  "That doesn't mean I want to see him harmed!" she hissed low.

  "Och, no," Lachlan said airily. "Twould hurt a wee in the heart, lass, wouldna it?"

  Blue gnashed her teeth against a retort then unlocked them and sputtered, "Look, you said you were cut off from him yesterday, right? And th-that you couldn't get through to the hotel where he's staying...right?"

  "Aye, but Winston spoke wi' the phone service up there and they said a storm was causin' line problems in some areas. And—"

  "That doesn't mean something isn't wrong!" she exclaimed.

  "Aye, tis true," Lachlan said patiently. "But I spoke wi' the hotel manager this efternoon, and he conveyed a message from Reith."

  "A message?" Blue asked in a small voice. "What was it?"

  "Tha' he was headin' for Stornaway and no' to expect to hear from him for a few days."

  Blue churned the words through her mind, and finally shook her head adamantly. "What's in Stornaway?"

  "Tis where Taryn rented a car."

  "You, Roan and...Reith already went there, though. Why return?"

  Lachlan covered an eye-watering yawn with a hand. "Blue, ma-lass, I dinna know why he wants to return to Stornaway—" Lachlan sucked in a breath and scowled. "Doesna make sense."

  "What doesn't?" Blue asked.

  "Last I spoke wi' him, he mentioned a mural at the Astory Inn."

  "I know he's at that inn," Blue said, her chin quivering.

  "Why mention a mural at the inn if his intention was to go to Stornaway?" Beth murmured, as if voicing her thoughts.

  "I'll wake Roan," said Lachlan, swinging his legs over the side of the mattress.

  "I'm going, too," Blue said.

  Lachlan looked at Beth before he cocked an eyebrow at Blue. "No' wise."

  "Since when has that stopped me?"

  Frowning, Lachlan said, "Roan and I—"

  "I'm going." Blue lifted off the bed via her wings. She hovered above the couple as if expecting further protest.

  "Aye," Lachlan sighed. "We may need yer magic afore we're through on the isle."

  "I'll be ready in a few minutes." She flew toward the window, shrinking during the flight, and disappeared into the night.

  Lachlan bent and planted a kiss on Beth's brow.

  "I miss you already," she said, climbing out of bed.

  "Aye, me, too," slipping out of his pajama bottoms and reaching for his black trousers. "But we must find Reith."

  "Lachlan...Blue does love him, doesn't she?"

  "Oh, aye."

  "Will we ever know what really happened between them?"

  "In time."

  "Promise me you and Roan will be careful."

  "Promise." He donned a white shirt that tied down the front and had puffy sleeves—a nineteenth century style he favored. "Dinna worry, love."

  "You have a way of finding trouble."

  "Me, you say?" Lachlan combined a chuckle and a groan. "It finds me."

  "Hmmm."

  "Beth?"

  "What?"

  "I love you."

  "Of course you do. No one else would put up with you," she said, laughter in her hushed voice.

  "Gettin' a wee cocky, aye?"

  "You know you love it."

  He chuckled again. "Tis sad but true."

  "I'll fix some travel food for you and Roan."

  "Thanks, love."

  He planted a kiss on her lips and headed for the door. His hand gripped the doorknob but jerked back when a crescendoing moan bled through the house.

  "Deliah!" Beth cried.

  She snatched up her bathrobe draped across the foot rail. Another moan resounded as Lachlan opened the door. They were running for the second floor when Alby, Kahl and Kevin sprang up the staircase and joined them.

  Winston, looking sleepy and frazzled, stepped on to the landing. "Deliah's in labor," he said thickly.

  "She's only six months along!" Beth cried.

  "Deliah says it's her time," Winston said, as if disbelieving he would soon be a father.

  Another moan came from below. Winston and Lachlan winced, while Beth disappeared down the stairs. Shortly, Roan joined them, his hands covering his ears until he stood in front of Winston.

  "Deliah having the baby?" asked Kahl, his eyes wide with excitement.

  Winston nodded, st
aring off into space.

  Another moan then a long-winded groan that prompted the three men and three boys to clap their hands over their ears.

  "Where's Laura?" Lachlan shouted.

  Roan's thumb stuck out in the direction of Winston and Deliah's bedroom.

  Winston was the first to uncover his ears, his sickly pallor and swaying alarming Lachlan.

  "Och, laddie!" Lachlan gasped. "Dinna pass ou'!"

  Another moan, this one causing the six to hunch together like rabbits hiding from a hungry fox.

  "Tis goin' to be a verra long night," Lachlan grumbled. He leveled an exasperated look at Roan, whose eyebrows lifted in a silent question. "And Laura will soon be—"

  "Damn me, don't remind me," Roan said, and shuddered. "This birthin' business was never intended for men to endure."

  "Aye," Winston murmured.

  Kevin rolled his eyes. "You helped make the babies. Grow up, guys."

  Another groan froze Lachlan's smile in the making. He was about to comment about Kevin's statement when an image flashed across his mind's eye. He saw Blue flying toward the twisted oak. Saw her stagger in mid-flight, clutch her chest, and plummet to the ground.

  "Blue," rumbled from him before he ran down the stairs and blindly burst from the house and into the yard. Instinct alone guided him. Twenty feet from the twisted oak, he found Blue's tiny form on a patch of grass, face down, her lifeless wings blanketing her. He gently scooped her into his hands and carried her toward the house where the other males of Baird House waited with pented breaths.

  "Wha' happened?" asked Roan, leading everyone into the library once the gas lamps were lit.

  Lachlan laid the tiny form on the couch and knelt to one knee. Winston and the boys observed over the back of the couch, while Roan, one hand braced on Lachlan's shoulder, stood by his side.

  "I saw her fall in a dreamin'," Lachlan said.

  From one story above, Deliah released another moan. Blue's eyes fluttered opened. She stared at Lachlan, bewildered and lost in a moment's uncertainty. Extending into human size, she sat up, a hand to her brow.

  "What hit me?" she asked.

  "You dropped in flight," Lachlan said, and pressed the back of a hand to her cheek.

  Another moan, giving Blue a start. "Deliah?" she asked anxiously.

  "She's in labor," Kevin said.

  "I should be with her," Blue said, her face suddenly taut, "but—"

  "Tis Reith," Winston stated, his psychic gift homing in.

  Blue folded her arms against her middle and shuddered. "He's in danger. We need to leave now. But Deliah—"

  Winston came around the couch to stand before the fairy queen. Lachlan rose and stared into his eyes, scowling.

  "Wha' do you sense abou' the lad?"

  Briefly, Winston closed his eyes. When he opened them, bleakness shadowed their depths. "You do need to leave now. Laura, Beth and I will be with Deliah."

  "If any harm comes to him," Lachlan growled.

  "I'll send some fairies to help with the birthing," Blue said. She stood with Lachlan's help, and shuddered again as her wings lifted her feet off the floor.

  "Is Reith in trouble?" Alby asked, tears welling up in his blue eyes.

  "Aye, but no' for long," Roan said, and passed Lachlan a resolute look. "Can we count on you lads ta help wi' Deliah?"

  "Sure can," said Kahl.

  The brothers nodded, sealing the promise.

  "Give me ten minutes," said Roan, heading for the door. "I'll meet you at the car."

  "Roan, you drive," said Winston.

  "Fegs, mon!" Lachlan sputtered.

  "I've enough to worry abou' wi’ou' you behind the wheel!" Winston declared.

  "I'll drive," said Roan, and disappeared into the hall.

  Winston soon followed, the boys in his wake.

  "I'll walk you to the oak—"

  "No, I'm all right now," Blue insisted. "I'll change out of my nightdress and meet you at the car."

  Lachlan nodded despite the look of fear he glimpsed in the beautiful aqua-blue eyes watching him.

  "Naught will happen to Reith."

  Blue's gorge rose into her throat and she swallowed it back reflectively. "We have until tomorrow night to reach him."

  "Why then?"

  "It's a full moon. They plan to sacrifice his heart."

  Outrage erupted in Lachlan. "Over ma twice dead body!" he vowed, and ran from the room.

  Blue held back a few moments, fighting back tears demanding release. Reith's fear was her own, its blackness bleeding into her soul.

  "Not this way," she whispered, trembling uncontrollably. "I can't lose you again, you sorry wart!"

  Loving and hating her estranged husband had been her life's blood far too long. She would not let him die. Could not let him die until she was free of his hold on her.

  But according to MoNae they were bonded everlasting.

  "Damn you, Reith," she wept, and flew from the room.

  Chapter 12

  Taryn wandered aimlessly, noticing little around her, nary a thought intruding. She gave up trying to justify the gargoyle's betrayal of her trust. Such was life. A lesson she well deserved.

  She wasn't sure how long she had been traveling. Perhaps days, or weeks for that matter. She would nap, awaken, seek pods to eat along the pools, and walk. The aloneness seemed right. Comforting.

  The descent to the river was not as arduous as one might believe. The frothing water pounding over rocks and around Olympian spiraling columns, stretched a good twenty feet across. The misty air was cold but refreshing, and she hiked along the river's edge until a harmony of sounds caught her attention. She came to a bridge of quartz-crystal and crossed it, the white-green glowing moss lighting her way to an area of isolated cones of limestone and gypsum. The melody beckoned, reminiscent of a thousand angelic voices.

  Beyond the cones, she descended into an enormous helictite chamber, the calcite stalactite defying gravity and growing in every which direction. She passed hot springs and verdant growth, none of the plants familiar.

  She came to a crawlway and concluded the singsong sounds came from the other end. The rock floor was relatively smooth and as she progressed, other sounds tweaked her curiosity. She climbed from the thirty-foot crawlway onto an escarpment, the view so incredible she found it difficult to breathe. Across the gigantic chamber, a wide, glorious waterfall cascaded from the ceiling two hundred feet above her, and tumbled to a wide pool at least two hundred feet below. Countless pinpoints of sunlight streamed from the ceiling, casting branching crystals hanging like stalagmites, trees and ground vegetation into golden splendor.

  It was sometime later before she discovered a pathway hugging the cliff walls. She eagerly descended, her eyes straining to drink in every ounce of beauty that stretched before her. When she made it to the flat ground, she heard a snort and looked off to her left. The horse. Grazing among gnarled trees, their branches laden with leaves. It ignored her presence. She hadn't even given the animal a thought since seeing Broc ride it below before her entrance into this world.

  Her feet padded across cushiony patches of moss and grass as she made her way toward the waterfall. To reach her destination, she had to cross through a forest of brilliantly gleaming, towering crystal spires that reminded her of stick pines. She realized, despite the thundering of the waterfall, the singsong beacon emanated from this area, now not so angelic but mystical.

  When she glimpsed a dark movement beyond one crystal copse, she slowed her pace and more cautiously proceeded.

  In the heart of a small clearing, Broc came into view.

  Again, she found it difficult to breathe.

  He wore only a kilt, his muscular arms, impressive broad shoulders and smooth, powerful chest, more visible by the fact his beard was trimmed to several inches below his jawline. Pencil-thin shafts of sunlight revealed auburn highlights in his waist-length clean and shiny dark hair, which was queued at his nape with a strip of leather. His large ha
nds gripped the swept-hilt of a rapier, its shiny blade sparkling from the fragmented gleams off the crystals as he danced slowly round and round, sword gracefully swinging up and down and to and fro. She realized his movements caused air currents to collide with the crystals, producing a series of harmonies not unlike what happens when running a wet finger along the rim of a crystal glass.

  The deliberate rhythm of his actions set a cadence that thrummed among the surrounding crystals, the orchestral tones crescendoing, harmony building upon harmony. Man, motion and tones mesmerized her. She never would have thought him handsome or graceful, or capable of making her mind, heart and soul respond to him with such abandon.

  Each time he leapt into the air and twirled his sword held high, his kilt lifted, exposing muscular thighs and rounded, firm buttocks. When Taryn had soaped his genitals not so long ago, his body held no interest to her. Not then. But now, her nether region throbbed with need, growing warmer and moist, craving that with him, her mind had refused.

  She had thought him a dirty, uncivilized barbarian.

  Wrong on all accounts. He was incredible.

  His orchestration singing in her blood and her skin tight in feverish response, she stole away and headed for the promised coldness of the cascade. She had to climb over rocks to reach a small shelf jutting out from beneath a section of the waterfall. Once there, she stood beneath a portion of the cascade, grateful for the icy wetness that rescued her from the spell the sight of him and the music had cast upon her. He slipped from her mind as she reveled in the watery embrace, feeling more alive than she had since entering the gargoyle's realm.

  Taryn wasn't sure what made her turn in the direction of the crystal forest. Standing on the opposite bank of the pool was Broc, his rapier point lowered to the ground, his dark eyes watching her through a guarded expression. She couldn't move. Again, couldn't breathe. She was only vaguely conscious of water pounding at her back.

  What are you thinking, barbarian? she mused. No, you're hardly that. What you have allowed me to see and what I have witnessed without your knowledge, tells me there is more to you than I will ever know.

  She breathed sparingly.

  What are you thinking, and why is it so important to me to know?

  Her gaze lowered to the rise and fall of his magnificent chest. She dared to wonder what it would be like to rest her head upon it. To hear the heartbeat within. To run her hands over the muscular planes.