“Aye,” Siomha said, giving her a nod of agreement. “But ye must understand, ’tis dangerous in this time tae have magic, though some ken of us. There are those who wouldnae hesitate tae kill one of our kind; they fear the ability of the stiuireadh.”
A chill coursed through Astrid at her words; they were a stark reminder of just how dangerous this time was for witches.
“I understand. I guess the force of her hostility took me by surprise. This all has been more difficult than I thought. And then there’s Dom—" She stopped herself, flushing. She felt so comfortable with Siomha that she’d almost confessed her feelings for Domhnall.
“Ye care for the laird,” Siomha said, studying her closely. It wasn’t a question but a statement of fact.
Astrid opened her mouth to protest, but no words came. There was something so genuine and open about Siomha that she couldn’t bear to lie to her.
“Yes,” she admitted. “But—nothing can happen,” she added, tactfully deciding not to mention their night of lovemaking. “We both have duties to tend to. And . . . I’m from a different time.”
“Love is more powerful than time,” Siomha said, waving her hand with dismissal. “It is more powerful than our own will. I didnae intend tae love Ruarc. I was born in my cousin Neacal’s clan, which was once an enemy of this clan’s. Had love obeyed what I wanted, I would have married someone from my own clan. Nae falling for Ruarc was like fighting against the pull of the ocean’s waves. I had no choice but tae give in tae its pull.”
Astrid nodded as Siomha’s words permeated. Her growing love for Domhnall did indeed feel like a gravitational pull.
“Speaking of your cousin Neacal, he knew who I was, and that I wasn’t from this time,” she said, wanting to change the subject from her feelings for Domhnall.
“I should have warned ye before ye went tae see him. My cousin may nae have the Sight, but he is insightful. His mother was a stiuireadh. I take it that’s why he agreed tae ally with ye?”
“Yes,” Astrid said, relieved that Siomha didn’t press to learn more about her and Domhnall.
“I’m glad. My cousin can be stubborn, but he is a good man.”
Siomha began to pepper her with questions about the future. Astrid smiled at her inquisitiveness, and gave her an overview of life in the twenty-first century, telling her about the significant populations and cities, America, and technology.
As she spoke of the time in which she was born, Astrid realized she didn’t miss it as much as she thought she would. True, there were the modern conveniences she’d taken for granted, but life in a medieval castle was comfortable, especially given that she had her own servants, meals were provided, and Barra was uncommonly beautiful. And despite the ongoing threat of conflict with the Norse, there was a sense of quiet calm that was missing in her modern-day life in Los Angeles.
She was attempting to explain to Siomha what driving was like—something else she also didn’t miss in traffic-clogged Los Angeles—when Ruarc entered the chamber. He gave Astrid a polite nod before turning to give Siomha a look filled with such love that she couldn’t help but feel a wave of envy as she recalled how cold Domhnall behaved toward her earlier. How good would it feel for Domhnall to look at her like that?
Setting her envy aside, she bade them a good night and left Siomha’s chamber.
Her feet seemed to have a mind of their own, taking her to Domhnall’s chamber instead of her own. She told herself she wanted to know what occurred at the meeting he’d had with the nobles, though deep down she knew better—she just wanted to see him.
Domhnall’s chamber door was open; he stood by the fireplace, looking down into the flames, his brow furrowed. Astrid’s heart leapt at the sight of him, her thoughts returning to the night before as she’d hungrily taken in Domhnall’s muscular torso gleaming in the same firelight.
When he looked up at her she swallowed, fearful that he’d tell her to leave with that same coldness he’d displayed earlier, but he gestured for her to enter.
“My cousin Ulf now kens of my true loyalties,” he said, a look of both grief and frustration flickering across his handsome face. “We’ve increased the defenses around Barra, and we’ll send what aid we can tae the Isle of Muck. Ye mentioned that the other stiuireadh didnae want tae join ye?”
She shouldn’t have felt so upset by his curt tone, but she did. It was like she’d imagined the night they'd shared. The night she realized she was falling in love with him.
“The coven leader, Lachina, was . . . hostile,” she said, hoping that her voice sounded formal, not echoing the deep longing she felt for him. “She used a spell against me and threatened to kill me if I approached her again.”
Domhnall’s expression went from tense anxiety to concern—and anger. It reminded her of how he’d looked at her when he found her on the shore, with a fierce protectiveness.
He strode across the chamber toward her, taking her arm with a frown. Electricity jolted through her at his touch, recalling how his hands had glided along her arms as he’d thrust into her the night before.
“I ken Lachina—I didnae ken she was a stiuireadh. Ye’re bruised,” he added with a growl. “Did she do this tae ye?”
She followed his gaze, noticing for the first time the slight bruise that had formed on her arm from landing on her side after Lachina’s magical attack.
“It’s nothing,” she said, unnerved by his anger. “I’m more upset about the fact that she refused to help than—”
“’Tis nae all right. Ye’ll nae approach her again.”
“I have to talk to her again, Domhnall. According to Fyfa, she’s trusted among the covens of the isles. They’ll listen to her.”
“Then I’ll come with ye,” he said without hesitation. “I may nae have magic, but I’ll have words with her about harming ye.”
A wave of pleasure swept over her at his protectiveness; it was a stark contrast to his coldness. His expression softened, and he lifted his hand as if he was going to touch the side of her face, but he dropped it.
“I want tae apologize tae ye, lass,” he said gruffly. “I shouldnae have been so cold tae ye earlier. I was worried about the latest attack.”
“I understand,” Astrid said, lowering her gaze. “You don’t have to apologize.”
“I do,” Domhnall insisted. “Ye must ken how much I want ye. How I care for ye . . . more than I should. But after the attack on Muck, I need tae focus on my duties. And being with ye . . . making love tae ye will make it difficult for me tae do so.”
Each word he spoke was like a sledgehammer to her heart; it took everything in her power to evenly hold his gaze, to nod in agreement, to not act as if her heart wasn’t breaking in her chest.
“You’re right. I think that’s for the best. Last night shouldn’t have happened,” she forced herself to say.
An emotion she couldn’t identify flickered across his face at her words, and he opened his mouth, but Astrid couldn’t bear to hear any more rejection, any more words that would pierce her heart. She turned and hurried out of his chamber, an ache searing her chest.
Chapter 17
Early the next morning, Domhnall stood at Astrid’s side at the front door of the manor home Lachina shared with her husband, Manus.
He’d had a sleepless night, regretting his words to her as soon as they’d spoken them. He’d wanted to chase after Astrid and beg for her forgiveness, to tell her that he couldn’t stay away from her after the night they shared, but he’d forced himself to let her go.
When they’d met at the stables to make the journey to Lachina’s home, Astrid had barely acknowledged him, only giving him a polite nod. Her distance had stung him more than he’d anticipated; he now understood how Astrid must have felt when he was cold to her.
“L—Laird Flachnan,” a servant stammered as she opened the door, looking astonished at the sight of him. “The laird of the manor isnae here, I’ll—"
“We’re here tae see Lachina,” Domhnall said
firmly.
The servant widened her eyes in surprise, her gaze sweeping to Astrid before she nodded and took a step back, gesturing for them to enter.
She led them into a sizeable drawing room; they were only there for a moment when Lachina entered, a pleasant smile on her face, one that faded as soon as she saw Astrid.
“Laird Flachnan,” Lachina said, her voice tight as she turned to look at him. “My husband isnae—"
“I’m here tae see ye,” he interrupted. “There’s no need for formalities. I ken what Astrid is, and what ye are. She only wants tae help ye. Ye had no right tae harm her.”
Lachina stiffened, shooting Astrid another withering glare before responding. “My laird, she is kin of aingidh. It wouldnae be wise tae trust her.”
“I trust her,” Domhnall growled. “Are ye calling me a fool?”
“N—no, my laird,” Lachina said. “I just—"
“I only want to help,” Astrid interrupted, stepping forward. “There was just an attack on Muck by the Norse. It’s only a matter of time before they come here.”
“The Norse have always raided the isles,” Lachina said, though her voice wavered with uncertainty. “And I have a fiosaiche in my coven. She’s foreseen no such danger. No such alliance.”
“Well, I’m from the future, and I’m telling you, there is one. But the future isn’t fixed—the Norse can still bring death and destruction to the isles. If we work together, the future where there is peace can remain intact. I’ve seen darkness coming, and it’s happening soon. You need to tell the other stiuireadh that we must work with the lairds to stop the Norse.”
“Ye’ll nae issue me orders, aingidh,” Lachina hissed.
“Donnae speak tae her in such a manner,” Domhnall snapped, his patience fraying. Guilt filled him as he recalled how he’d treated Astrid similarly when she’d arrived—with distrust and hostility.
Astrid turned to give him a placating look as if to say, Let me handle this. His mouth tightened and he obliged her. But if Lachina uttered one more word against her . . .
He watched, tense, as Astrid stepped toward Lachina, determination stark on her lovely features.
“What are ye—" Lachina began, her body stiffening with alarm.
Astrid didn’t respond, grabbing Lachina’s arm and murmuring several words beneath her breath; Domhnall suspected they were words of a spell.
Lachina went still with shock, her eyes going wide as Astrid released her. She stumbled to her knees, pressing her hands to her temples as Astrid stepped back.
“What did ye do?” he asked Astrid, astonished.
“Showed her what I’ve seen. What made me come to this time,” Astrid grimly replied, not taking her eyes off of Lachina.
It took several moments, but soon Lachina soon stopped trembling, climbing to her feet, still looking pale.
“If we don’t work together to stop the Norse, that is what will happen,” Astrid snapped. “Think of your fellow stiuireadh, your fellow men and women. You know what I speak is true, you know what I’ve just showed you is true. I can’t plant false visions in the mind of another stiuireadh.”
Lachina closed her eyes. When she opened them, she gave Astrid a grim nod. Though there was still simmering contempt in her gaze, there was also a grudging respect. “I will talk tae the other coven leaders,” she whispered. “Ye have my word.”
“How were ye able tae put visions in her mind?” Domhnall asked in amazement after they’d returned to the castle.
Despite her success in getting Lachina’s assistance, Astrid had remained silent during the entire journey back to the castle and even while he’d accompanied her back to her chamber. He noticed that Astrid still took great care to keep distance between them, something that tore at him. He hoped his question would force her to open up to him.
It is ye who told her ye need tae keep yer distance, he reminded himself with a stab of regret.
“It was a complex Seeking spell, one I didn’t think I’d be able to pull off, but I think my desperation helped,” Astrid said, still not looking at him.
“What did ye see in yer visions? The ones that compelled ye tae come tae this time?” he asked, determined to keep her talking to him.
“They were . . . flashes of images. I saw ships on water, battles on land. I saw women weeping over dead bodies, crying children, bloodied bodies on fields. Images of warfare,” she said, a shadow passing across her features.
At her words, a chill crept up his spine. He thought of the recent war with the Norse, the bloody battles, the death, the despair. Dread filled him at the thought of such events once again coming to pass.
“I think what I showed Lachina has convinced her,” Astrid continued, moving to the window of her chamber, her expression carefully blank. “She’ll keep to her word. Getting the coven leaders to work together is a step in the right direction. Once they’re working together, there won’t be any need for me here. She and the other witches are more powerful than I am. I—I think once I unite them with the lairds, I’ve done what I came here to do. My magic will leave me be, and I can return to my own time.”
“No,” Domhnall said before he could stop himself, panic spiraling through him at the thought of her leaving. He knew she would eventually have to leave, but he wasn’t yet ready.
He didn’t think he’d ever be ready.
Distance be damned, he thought, crossing the chamber to stand before her. She looked up at him, her lovely green eyes widening at the intensity in his own.
“Ye need tae stay and see the Pact through, Astrid. Ye need tae ensure that the Pact brings peace tae the isles. I believe ye’re still needed here.”
He was trying to prolong her stay, but he believed every word. Gazing down at her bonnie face, he ached to take her into his arms, to claim her mouth and body once more. To tell her that despite what he’d said about keeping their distance, he couldn’t bear to see her go.
“I’ll consider it,” Astrid said, turning away from him, her expression shuttering. “I’m going to practice some spells. If you need me, I’ll be here.”
It was a dismissal, one he was tempted to disregard. But he told himself he deserved her coldness after he’d pushed her away. She was doing what he’d asked her to do.
Still, it took everything in his power to turn on his heel and leave her chamber. I do need ye, Astrid, he thought, as he closed the door behind him. More than ye ken.
Chapter 18
It was easy for Astrid to keep her distance from Domhnall over the course of the next couple of weeks as she ventured with Lachina to both the islet where the local coven met, Eilean Nan Draoidhean, and several other nearby isles, meeting with leaders of other covens to convince them to work with the lairds. She knew that Domhnall himself was busy working with Neacal, approaching the other lairds of the isles to warn them of another invasion by the Norse and forging alliances.
She ached for him, and missed him more than she should, even as she tried to focus on the task at hand. If I miss him this much when we’re in the same time, Astrid silently despaired, how will I cope when we’re centuries apart?
But she forced her heartache aside to focus on what she’d come here to do, something that Lachina was vital in helping accomplish.
There were three main covens operating throughout the isles, with several dozen members in total. The largest coven was on the Isle of Skye, another on Barra, and another on Benbecula. Fyfa told her that each coven operated like a clan, with fierce loyalties within each, and bitter rivalries with other covens, often going back generations.
It was only during the war with the Norse that they truly came together, though they’d ultimately decided to not get involved; it was a war involving men and men only, and they hadn’t wanted to risk exposing themselves. Astrid knew that this would make it even more difficult to convince them to join with the lairds in fighting off the Norse, but she could only hope that Lachina could convince them otherwise.
Before each meeting, Lach
ina curtly ordered Astrid to remain silent and let her do the talking, warning her that the other coven leaders were even more distrustful than she was.
Lachina hadn’t warmed toward Astrid at all; it seemed as if she barely tolerated her. If it weren’t for Domhnall and the visions she’d put in her mind, Astrid was certain Lachina would have made good on her promise to drown her.
Two other witches from Lachina’s coven would accompany them to meet with the coven leaders, one of them being the silver-haired witch who had given Astrid that odd, dark feeling. Every time the witch’s gaze passed over Astrid, a shiver coursed through her. There was something off about the witch, something she couldn’t quite place. When she asked Fyfa about the witch, she told her the witch’s name was Erskina.
“She’s from an ancient line of druid witches and she’s especially powerful. Donnae fret how she behaves; she’s nae friendly toward anyone in our coven except for Lachina,” Fyfa informed her.
Astrid made herself dismiss the odd feeling she had about Erskina, telling herself that it must just be because of the cold, suspicious air Erskina gave off whenever she looked at Astrid.
While Lachina remained cold, and Erskina and the other witches regarded her with lingering suspicion, Fyfa had fully warmed up to her. She learned that Fyfa’s grandparents were stiuireadh, but her parents possessed no magic. Her father kept what she could do secret; Siomha was one of the few in the clan who knew of her power.
“’Tis another reason I was so cold toward ye. I didnae want many people kenning of my magic. It can be dangerous for people tae ken,” Fyfa said, giving her an apologetic look.
“I understand,” Astrid said, offering her a warm smile in return.
Fyfa’s former hostility aside, she was grateful that Fyfa accompanied her and Lachina to each meeting with the coven leaders; it was nice to have a friendly witch with her. While Lachina spoke to the witches privately, Fyfa would take Astrid aside and help her practice both Offensive and Defensive spells.
Domhnall's Honor: A Scottish Time Travel Romance (Highlander Fate, Lairds of the Isles Book 3) Page 10