Highlanders Short Story Collection
Volume 1
Donna Fletcher
Contents
One Night of Love & the Hobgoblin
Christmas Love
The Christmas Ghost
Curse Beware
Highlander’s True Love
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
About the Author
Also by Donna Fletcher
Highlanders Short Story Collection
Volume One
No part of this publication may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever, including but not limited to being stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without permission of the author.
This is a book of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Highlanders Short Story Collection
All rights reserved.
Copyright 2018 by Donna Fletcher
Cover Art
The Killion Group
One Night of Love & the Hobgoblin
Based on characters from the book — The Irish Devil
* * *
Cork, Ireland, 1171
* * *
Eric of Shanekill could take no more. He flung the long, black wool cloak he had grabbed before leaving the keep around his wide shoulders and stomped through the village looking as fierce and potent as the name bestowed on him— Irish Devil. Everyone scurried out of his way, making certain to stay clear of him. It mattered not, he paid them no heed. His thoughts were on one thing and one thing only, his wife Faith. He had had enough and he was going to settle it here and now with her, whether she wanted to or not.
When he woke a couple of hours ago and reached out to take her in his arms as he did most mornings, to hug her close, feel her warmth, her softness, to drink in her beauty and remind himself how lucky he was to have her as his wife, he had found her gone.
Not that her absence in their bed was an uncommon thing, but of late it had become more so. He understood that as the village healer she felt a duty to the people, but she also had a duty to him… her husband. And he intended to remind her that she had been sorely neglecting him of late.
He had never had to remind her of such before and it troubled him to do so now. Didn’t she care that it had been one week – one whole week – since they had made love? Didn’t she miss him as badly as he did her? Didn’t she miss touching him, kissing him, loving him? Though it had been three years since they had exchanged marriage vows, the spark of passion had remained strong within them. And he believed that it had grown ever stronger… that was until this past week.
Faith seemed not to notice him at all. And a few times when he had reached out to take her in his arms, she had stepped away from him. Never had she turned away from his embrace. She would either drift or rush into his arms and cuddle as close as she could and he would whisper things in her ear that would rush a red glow to her cheeks and spark her desire as well as his. The more he thought about all they shared and all he missed, the angrier he became.
His strides became more determined and villagers huddled in gossip as they watched the Irish Devil hurry to the healing cottage. There was sure to be a confrontation and most knew who the victor would be.
Eric attempted to control his anger. It would do him no good to pounce on her, but the thought conjured an image that was hard to ignore. He had been blessed with a wife who enjoyed conjugal rights. Faith often made it known how much she desired him and he had never disappointed her. They made love often and in places...he smiled with the memories.
They were made for each other and most knew it. It was as if the heavens had connected them body and soul…made them one, then split them apart, reunited them and made them one once again. That was certainly how it felt when he made love with her — that they were one and would always be — one body, one soul, one love.
He recalled his half-brother, Borg’s remark this morning when he had left his three-year-old son Ryan in his care.
“Don’t make a fool of yourself.”
Borg had then proceeded, while bouncing up and down a jubilant Ryan on his knee, to remind him of how from when Eric had first met Faith he had made a continuous fool out of himself.
While there were times Eric could agree, other times had not been as obvious, though he had certainly lost his heart to Faith quickly enough. But then she was a beauty, long fiery red hair that sprung in ringlets around her head and face, skin as pale as freshly fallen snow and though she had a scar that ran down along her cheek from below her right eye close to her temple and all the way to her breast, it did nothing to distract from her beauty. It more reminded him of what a courageous woman she had been and would always be.
So what had happened between them in this last week to have her avoid him so? It made no sense and made him crazy with worry. What was on her mind? Why hadn’t she spoken to him about it? She had discussed everything with him as he did with her. She had good insight and instincts and he often relied on her for settling problems among the villagers.
Which was another reason for his foul mood, he missed talking with her. She wasn’t only his wife; she was his best friend. While he missed her in his bed, he missed even more their talks.
Faith was everything to him and he feared losing the closeness they had always shared. He stomped like an angry bear the last few feet to the healing cottage. He would have his answers, he would demand them, he would not be ignored, she would tell him what the problem was, he would insist on it, and then he would do what he had been aching to do… he would make love to his wife.
Several villagers lingered around the cottage waiting for the healer to administer to their needs. But once they spotted him they dispersed quickly, leaving the benches outside empty. He should have waited for the door to open and not disturb her session with whoever it was she was tending to, but he had no patience. He grabbed hold of the wooden handle and swung the door open.
He was surprised to see that she was alone, though glad of it. There was no one there to prevent him from having his say. His heart hammered in his chest and his anger was near to boiling. This was it, she would explain or else.
Eric took two steps into the cottage and kicked the door shut behind him.
Faith dropped the batch of herbs in her hand to the table and with a weary smile said, “Good lord, Eric, I’ve missed you so very much.”
Her words knocked the stuffing right out of him and all he could do was spread his arms wide.
She hurried into them, her arms quickly circling his back, her head seeking his hard chest and her body resting against his.
His breath caught for a moment, she was home where she belonged—in his arms—and his anger vanished in an instant.
Holding her close, feeling her warmth, her need for him, he asked, “What troubles you?”
She sighed. “I knew I couldn’t keep my worries from you for long.” She raised her head to look at him. “And I feel so guilty for neglecting you.”
“Truth be told it angered me,” he said honestly not wanting any lies between them.
“I’m sorry—”
“I should be the one apologizing for thinking you ignored me on purpose.”
“I did not mean to,” she said, her fingers going to lightly trace his lips. “I have missed you more than I can say.”
“And I you, wife,” he said and as much as he wanted to kiss her and carry her to the single, narrow bed in the cottage and make love to her, he knew at this moment she needed to talk with him. “Now tell me what troubles you. What has kept you from our bed? What has kept us from making love? What has worried you so?”
Faith slipped out of his arms and went to step away from him, but he wouldn’t let her. His hand ran down her arm and took hold of her hand locking his fingers with hers.
She smiled looking up at him. “Not going to let me go?”
“Do you want me to?”
She shook her head and squeezed his hand. “No, I don’t want you to let go. I want you to hang on to me and keep me sane.”
He tugged her to him, though she came willingly enough and once again he wrapped his arms around her. “I will not let you go until you tell me and even then I have no plans of releasing you. I miss you and it is time you and I make love.”
She sighed much heavier this time. “I would like that, but I fear there is a problem that must be solved before that will come to pass.”
“Tell me and I will solve it, for there is nothing that will keep me from making love to my wife this night.”
“After you hear, you may think differently.”
“I think not. Now tell me.”
“The villagers have been coming to me with deep scratches and too many bruises. Some get them while in the woods and others while working the field, the land near ready for harvest with winter’s chill all too prevalent. They talk of seeing a shadow that darts and sprints and leaves behind marks on them. They see the shadow briefly before suffering its sting. They fear going into the fields and many, especially the women who forage for plants and branches to make baskets have hesitated to venture where they once felt safe. Gossip has started.”
“I’ve heard none,” he said.
“Have you listened?”
He hadn’t. He’d been too busy with his own thoughts to hear others.
Faith ran a tender hand along his cheek and he near groaned with the pleasure it brought.
“Worry not,” she said. “Tongues have just recently been wagging and it is with whispered breathes they speak.”
“They gossip but want no one hearing?” he asked perplexed.
“It is what they whisper about that they fear. It is what keeps them coming back to me and more recently asking for anything that will protect them.”
“Protect them from what?”
She rested her hand to his chest and whispered, “The hobgoblin.”
Eric was struck silent for a moment. He had heard stories of hobgoblins and how mischievous and devilish they could be, but he never truly believed in them. He thought them conjured by fear when no doubt there was a reasonable explanation.
“The people truly believe a hobgoblin lurks on the land?”
Faith nodded. “They do and the thought makes them more fearful by the day and with all the incidents, I must say that something lurks on our land and it is not friendly.”
Eric knew then and there he had no choice. If he wanted to have free, undisturbed time to make love to his wife he had only one choice… he had to capture the hobgoblin.
Eric kissed his wife Faith, a prelude of what was to come tonight when he made love to her. He wanted to remind her of what she was missing even though she had admitted as much, he wanted to leave her with a stronger reminder.
He, of course, had missed the taste of her as well and so he lingered in the thirsty kiss that satisfied but didn’t quite fully quench his thirst, or Faith’s. It was obvious they both wanted more, their bodies demanded it, drifting ever closer until they looked as if they would meld together. And he certainly wanted to meld.
Eric stopped the kiss, though he would have much preferred to linger in it. That however would be too dangerous, for he would want more than a kiss from Faith, he would want all of her. And at the moment, he had to catch an insufferable hobgoblin that had put the fear in the hearts of his people and had kept him and his wife apart.
Whoever the hobgoblin was he intended to see him suffer for his misdeeds.
“I’ll take care of this posthaste,” he said his arms slipping from around her and his hands going to rest at her waist. “I’ll have the culprit who has caused so much unrest caught and punished before nightfall. Then you will be all mine.”
“Gossip has it that no hobgoblin has ever been caught,” she said quite seriously.
“Do you doubt my ability to protect you and my people?”
“Never,” she said. “I have seen you best the biggest of men and fight against enormous odds and always emerge the victor. But this… this is not like anything you have ever gone up against. The hobgoblin is of the Other World and from what I have heard and seen of the wounds, does not fight fairly.”
“I have not always done the same myself,” he said.
“You will not go alone,” she instructed sternly.
“My wife commands me?” he said on a laugh.
She gave him a playful jab. “I will not see the hobgoblin get you.”
“He taunts, teases and puts fear in people,” Eric reminded. “He has yet to do more serious damage.”
“But you don’t know if—”
“I know that if he is not caught I will never get my wife back into my bed. And that bed has been far too cold and lonely without you. Besides how can I allow my wife to forage for her precious healing plants if a hobgoblin runs loose in the woods?”
Faith took a quick step away from him and walked over to the fireplace stirring the contents of the big black cauldron that hung from the iron rod over the flames.
“Faith?” he questioned walking over to her. When she failed to turn around, he slipped his arm around her waist and turned her gently to face him. “What do you keep from me?”
“I didn’t want you to worry. I thought it was nothing and then so many villagers began showing up on my doorstep.”
His heart began to pound in his chest and anger bubbled up from deep inside him. “Tell me.”
She attempted to roll the sleeve of her blue linen blouse up along her arm but her hand trembled, making the task difficult. Eric brushed her hand aside and continued and what was revealed filled him with raging anger.
He rested her arm in one hand while the other brushed gentle fingers over the deep red welts that ran from just past her wrist to her elbow. Someone or something had viciously scratched her, leaving her lovely flesh marred.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were attacked?”
“I wasn’t sure I had been, it happened so fast. I thought it an accident, that I tripped and my arm suffered from the fall. And even after tending a few villagers with similar wounds I didn’t connect my incident. They had talked of seeing a shadow, where I saw nothing. It was only recently I began to think that I had been one of the many who had suffered at the hands of the hobgoblin.”
Eric rested his hand to her cheek, warm and tinged red from the heat of the hearth. “I am going to kill him for what he has done to you.”
Faith smiled and turned her face into his hand to kiss his palm. “I appreciate your gallantry, but such a harsh punishment does not fit his crime. And I think all would prefer that you send him back to where he belongs with a stern warning never to return here.”
“When I finish with him he will never want to leave the Other World.”
Faith drifted into his arms once again. “You will take someone with you?”
“I have told you not to worry over me,” he said as if it were a command.
“It does you no good to instruct me such for you know full well I will pay it no heed. I love you and I worry over you and that is the way it will always be. Now tell me you will take someone with you.”
To settle her concern, he said, “I’ll take Rook.”
The big ugly dog dozing
by the hearth raised his head and yawned.
Faith shook her head. “He will not go with you. He hasn’t gone back into the woods since the day it happened. And you know how he loves to explore on his own at times.”
Eric shook his head. “Rook was with you and didn’t attack whatever this thing was?”
“No, he cowered beside me and shook. I thought he was upset over my incident.”
Eric was not happy with the dog’s cowardly actions. Even though Rook was known to be spineless at times, he had always protected Faith with his life. What had caused the animal to fail to protect Faith?
“This hobgoblin will be no more by day’s end,” Eric said and gave Faith a quick kiss then walked to the door.
“Be careful,’ she called after him.
“It is the hobgoblin you should be worried for, not me.” And with that he was out the door striding past ill villagers who had gathered on the benches once more.
Eric stopped at the keep to see his son and inform Borg of his intention and wasn’t surprised that he offered to accompany him. Borg believed strongly in the Other World whereas Eric believed in what he could see, and if something could attack and leave scratches then that something could be caught.
He declined Borg’s offer, though his warning was clear.
“Take no chances with a hobgoblin. They are mean and troublesome.”
Eric gave his son a hug and a kiss, the little fellow throwing his tiny arms around his father’s neck and hugging tight. That he was Eric’s son could not be denied, he was the exact image of him. He left the two playing with the wooden animals Borg had carved for Ryan.
Highlanders Short Story Collection Page 1