Domhnall's Honor: A Scottish Time Travel Romance (Highlander Fate, Lairds of the Isles Book 3)

by Stella Knight

  She looked up, tears blinding her eyes as she met Domhnall’s blue ones. He looked dazed and out of sorts, but he was alive, and looking at her with such love.

  “Domhnall,” Astrid gasped, and not caring that they were on the edge of a raging battlefield, she leaned down to kiss him, a kiss that he returned.

  When they broke apart, he briefly rested his forehead on hers. “Ye saved my life,” he rasped, looking at her with awe as she helped him sit up. “How?”

  “Healing spells,” she said.

  As she spoke, she realized how weak she felt. But now that Domhnall had been revived, she still needed to find and destroy Erskina. “I have to find Erskina—she’s inside the castle. You need to find somewhere safe to rest and—”

  “Ye’ve healed me,” Domhnall said, giving her a stubborn scowl. “I’m the leader of these men. I will fight until this battle is won.”

  Astrid studied the man she loved, wanting to argue with him, but it was no use; she knew he wouldn’t budge on this. And her Healing spell had taken care of his abdominal wound. He may be slightly weaker now, but he was still capable of fighting.

  “Just—don’t get yourself stabbed again,” she said, helping him up, going for a bit of levity though she was terrified. She’d never forget the torrential grief that had claimed her during those brief moments when she’d thought he was dead.

  He gave her a grim smile, his hand going to the hilt of his sword. He reached for her hand, and together they made their way into the castle.

  As soon as they entered, Astrid smelled something burning coming from the great hall, and heard the sounds of swords clashing coming from the rear courtyard.

  Dread encircled her; Erskina was trying to burn down the castle. “Erskina’s in the great hall— I’m going to stop her,” Astrid said, determination swelling in her once more.

  “I’m going tae join my men.”

  He took her hand and lifted it to his lips, giving her a searing look that said so much before darting toward the rear courtyard.

  Heart pounding, Astrid made her way to the great hall. Erskina was inside, her hands raised, watching with pleasure as the fires from the fireplace swelled, threatening to encase the entire hall.

  Astrid shouted an Extinguishing spell, killing the fires, and Erskina whirled, her eyes widening in disbelief and rage.

  “Ye donnae stay dead,” she hissed, stalking toward Astrid.

  She began to hurl Killing spells at Astrid, one after the other, forcing Astrid to use a Cloaking spell to shield herself, something that drained her already weakened power reserves.

  It was then that she realized what Erskina was doing. She must have realized Astrid was weakened; all she had to do was tire Astrid out with Offensive spells until she could deliver the killing blow.

  Panic coursed through Astrid as she continued to dodge each spell and counteract with weak Offensive ones of her own, spells which Erskina easily dodged.

  Astrid had to think fast. She recalled how her fear had helped her issue a powerful spell when she’d first arrived in this time against Domhnall, when he hadn’t believed that she was a witch. Fear had hindered her for her entire life, ever since the dark days of her childhood. But now she could use fear to save her life, to propel the last of her energy into a powerful spell that would destroy this dark witch for good.

  Astrid cleared her mind, meeting Erskina’s fury-filled eyes, and then she did something that seemed counterintuitive on the surface.

  She turned and ran.

  Erskina was instantly on her heels, laughing with dark delight at what she perceived to be Astrid’s cowardice. Astrid kept running, her heart in her throat, praying that her hastily put together plan would work.

  Once they were safely outside the castle, Astrid whirled to face Erskina. As Erskina opened her mouth to shout another Killing spell, Astrid raised her hand, funneling every last remnant of her power into a Fire spell.

  A blazing ring of fire surrounded Erskina, trapping her. Her eyes widened in horror as Astrid shouted another spell, a spell she’d never hoped to utter in her lifetime.

  “Marbh an stiuireadh seo.”

  Astrid made herself hold Erskina’s gaze as the Killing spell struck her, watching as a multitude of emotions filled her eyes—rage, regret, grief, until the life drained from them, and she slumped to the ground, dead.

  Only then did Astrid extinguish the fire, looking down at Erskina’s still body with sorrow. In some ways, Erskina reminded her of her parents, choosing darkness that would ultimately twist her soul and lead to her downfall.

  I’m sorry, Astrid thought, gazing down at the fallen witch. But you picked the wrong path. You chose darkness, and this is where it led you.

  A peace fell over her, and for the first time, she was truly able to let go of the dark legacy her parents’ long-ago actions had cast over her. Erskina and her parents had chosen darkness. Astrid had chosen a different path, one of light; it was a path which led her to love, to Domhnall.

  It was the one she would always follow.

  Given how weak Astrid was after the power and multitude of her spells had drained her, she barely made it to the rear courtyard, having to grip the wall to hold herself upright.

  When she arrived, remaining in the safety of the castle’s rear doorway to stay out of the fray of battle, she saw that the fighting had mostly died down; Domhnall’s men had clearly turned the tide of battle in their favor. There were men scattered about the courtyard, either injured or dead, and Domhnall’s men were taking away Norsemen as prisoners.

  Still, a handful of men continued to fight, including Domhnall and a tall, blond man she knew from Domhnall’s description was his cousin, Ulf.

  She wanted to come to Domhnall’s aid, but her magical reserves were empty; she could barely hold herself upright. She could only watch, helpless, as Domhnall and Ulf fought, moving in a series of rapid-fire sword clashes. It was hard to believe that Domhnall had been near death when she found him on the shore; her spell had indeed restored him.

  She noticed that Ulf’s movements seemed to be fueled by rage. Domhnall was more calculated, and she realized that Domhnall was counting on Ulf’s unrestrained, impulsive moves.

  Soon Ulf made a fatal mistake, jabbing his sword forward as Domhnall dodged. Domhnall was able to knock the sword from Ulf’s hands, kicking him to the ground with his foot. Ulf landed hard on his back, but glared up at his cousin with defiance.

  “Do it, traitor,” Ulf hissed. “Kill me.”

  Domhnall held his blade above his cousin’s chest, his torment evident. After several long moments, Domhnall slowly lowered it, stepping back, and gesturing for two of his hovering men to come forward to restrain Ulf.

  “There has been enough death,” Domhnall said. “Yer men have lost. I willnae become like ye and allow rage tae consume me.”

  Domhnall nodded to his men, who took away a furious-looking Ulf.

  Relief flowed through her just as Domhnall turned, meeting her eyes. She gave him a wavering smile, but her weakness claimed her, and her legs gave way.

  To her surprise, she didn’t fully lose consciousness. Instead, the world around her went blurry, and she felt strong arms around her, holding her up. In medical terms, it felt as if she’d had a stroke, but she was too weak to feel panic.

  Around her, there were the sounds of muffled voices, and gradually, her strength returned, her vision becoming clear once more.

  She blinked, looking up. Domhnall had her in his arms, his pale features stark with relief. Fyfa hovered at his side, giving her a warm smile.

  “Lachina told me tae come tae yer aid, but I saw ye’d already destroyed Erskina. The least I could do was restore yer strength. I used a Healing spell on ye, but ye should still rest.”

  “I thank ye, Fyfa,” Domhnall said, giving her a grateful smile.

  Fyfa returned his smile and nodded, reaching out to squeeze Astrid’s hand before moving into the courtyard, approaching a group of injured nobles.


  Astrid turned her focus to Domhnall, who cupped her face. “My bonnie, brave Astrid,” he murmured. “Ye frightened me.”

  “My magic just drained me,” she reassured him. “Is the battle over?”

  “Aye. My men have fought back the Norse on Barra. I will join Neacal shortly tae confirm his men have staved them off as well, and then we will check with our allies on the other isles. It seems Erskina was the only aingidh working with the Norse.”

  Relief filled Astrid, and she closed her eyes. It was hard to believe it was all over, but the peace that had settled over her confirmed it.

  Domhnall lifted her up into his arms, ignoring her insistence that she could walk, taking her to his chamber, and setting her down on her bed.

  “This will be yer chamber from now on,” he said, giving her a searching, hopeful look, “if ye choose tae stay in this time. If ye choose tae be my bride.”

  He waited for her response, his handsome face raw and vulnerable as if he expected her to refuse.

  She smiled, reaching up to touch his face. “You foolish man,” she whispered. “Didn’t I tell you that my home is with you?”

  Joy infused his features, and he leaned forward to capture her lips with his. She wrapped her arms around him, clinging to him, relishing in the sense of happiness and contentment that had settled over her, a contentment that had evaded her until now. Until this very moment.

  “I love you, Laird Domhnall Flachnan,” she whispered.

  “And I love ye, Lady Astrid Flachnan,” he returned, his voice husky with reverence. Her heart swelled at hearing her future title—a title she was always meant to have. “My bonnie love from the future. And now, ye are my future. My verrae heart.”

  Epilogue

  One Month Later

  Astrid and Domhnall were married on the same shoreline she’d arrived at when she’d first come to this time.

  It was an unusual place to have a wedding in this time period, especially for a laird, whose weddings usually took place in the great hall of his castle or manor. But Domhnall happily agreed to wed there when Astrid suggested it. It was where they’d first found each other in the vast fabric of time, sealing their place in each other’s lives.

  The lairds and witches who’d taken part in the Pact were in attendance, including Fyfa and Lachina, who looked on at the happy couple with warm smiles on their faces. Astrid had officially joined the local coven two weeks after they’d helped defeat the Norse; her fellow witches now welcomed her with open arms.

  Astrid had spent the last few weeks before wedding Domhnall getting adjusted to living permanently in this time. In addition to her position as the lady of Farraige Castle, she was now the castle healer. Her first task was assisting with Siomha’s labor; she had given birth to a baby girl. Despite being born a few weeks early, the wee lass, who Ruarc and Siomha had named Innis, was healthy and strong.

  Astrid relished in using her medical knowledge from the future to help heal ailments in this time, from minor scrapes and bruises to more serious infections. She was also growing in power and confidence with her magic, often using magic in conjunction with her medical skills.

  Domhnall had confirmed with Neacal and their other allies that they, with the help of the stiuireadh, had warded off the Norse invasion with minimal losses of their own. The lairds of the isles had come to a new peace agreement with the Norse, who officially ceded their claims to the Scottish isles, agreeing to not attack them again. It seemed they too were now weary of warfare; it had taken a toll.

  Barra and the other Scottish isles finally had peace.

  His cousin Ulf remained imprisoned, and though he remained stubbornly silent whenever Domhnall visited, he had noticed the corners of Ulf’s mouth twitch with a hint of a smile when Domhnall told him he was to wed.

  Though Ruarc and his men didn’t like that Domhnall had spared Ulf, Domhnall was glad that he had. Guilt would have shadowed him had he not, and after much warfare and finding love with Astrid, he wanted a clear heart. Ulf was kin, and he loved him; he’d never forget the grief in Ulf’s eyes when Ulf had thought he’d killed him.

  And he could see by the wariness in Ulf’s eyes that he no longer had any desire to fight, especially when Domhnall told him of the new peace agreement he and his allies had made with the Norse. Rather than looking angered by this, relief had flickered across his expression.

  As Domhnall walked away from Ulf the last time he’d visited, his cousin’s voice stopped him in his tracks; it was the first time Ulf had spoken since Domhnall had imprisoned him.

  “I’m glad,” Ulf said gruffly, not looking at him, “that you survived my attack. I—I couldn’t have lived with myself had you died. I’ve had much time in here to think. No land was worth your death, cousin.”

  Domhnall studied his cousin for a long moment. “And I’m glad I spared ye. We are blood, cousin. I only want peace going forward.”

  Ulf gave him a hint of a smile, which Domhnall returned before leaving. Domhnall could see them one day repairing their fractured relationship, and being able to release Ulf from his custody, something that filled him with great relief.

  Now Domhnall kissed his new bride, joy flooding him, a joy that remained throughout their celebratory feast in the great hall, and then as his men cheered as he carried his new bride to their chamber.

  Astrid had told him of a tradition in her time in which the man carried his bride over the threshold; it was something he was eager to do.

  He kept his eyes pinned on his new bride as he carried her over the threshold of their chamber. She looked sinful in her wedding gown of emerald green, her hair loose and flowing about her shoulders at his request.

  “Tonight,” he rasped, setting down the love of his life on to their bed, “we begin our family. I want tae plant a bairn in yer belly, wife. The first of many.”

  “I want that too,” Astrid said, beaming up at him as she reached out to stroke his face. “I can’t wait to start a family with you. A life with you. You are what I’ve been missing, Domhnall. I didn’t know it until I met you.”

  He kissed her, her words searing on to his very soul. She was the missing piece in his life as well, a life that was now whole. “I love ye, my Astrid. Ye’re home now.”

  Astrid’s eyes filled with emotion as they kissed, and he proceeded to show her just how much he loved her . . . how much he would always love his bonnie witch from the sea, from a time yet to come, who had made his life whole.

  On the shore across from Farraige Castle, two stiuireadh watched as the candlelight in Laird Flachnan’s chamber went out.

  With their knowledge of the future, Siobhan and Lioslaith knew that tonight Astrid and Domhnall would conceive a son, the first of four healthy bairns the two would have.

  As Astrid’s coven leader, Siobhan had worried about Astrid when she’d first gone to the past, knowing of her destiny here. She was fearful that Astrid would refuse to undertake the task the threads of time had bestowed upon her.

  But she had undertaken it with gusto, uniting with her fated partner in the past, Domhnall, and bringing about peace. Together, Domhnall and Astrid made each other whole; time had stitched their paths together.

  Siobhan turned to Lioslaith, who stood at her side, beaming at the darkened window. Lioslaith, who was a powerful fiosaiche, was aware of the ripple effects of Astrid’s presence here, of the other witches who would come to the past to help the lairds maintain peace.

  “All is well,” Lioslaith said in her musical voice, meeting Siobhan’s eyes with a smile.

  Siobhan nodded, reaching for Lioslaith’s hand. It was time for them to return to their respective times, to ensure that the stiuireadh and other travelers destined to pass through the fabric of time made it to their various destinations.

  Every once in a while, they liked to travel to the past to see the effects of a time traveler’s journey—love found, peace restored.

  They’d seen it here with Astrid and Domhnall.

  Givi
ng the darkened chamber window one last look, Siobhan returned Lioslaith’s smile.

  “All is well.”

  THE END

  I hope you’ve enjoyed the Highlander Fate, Lairds of the Isles series. Please consider leaving a review. Reviews help readers discover new books and each one is greatly appreciated!

  Glossary

  Below please find a glossary of magical terms used in the novel.

  aingidh - a stiuireadh who uses magic for dark purposes

  fiosaiche - Seers who can detect anomalies in the flow of time

  Pact - the agreement between the stiuireadh and the chieftains of the Scottish isles pledging to assist the stiuireadh in times of need

  Sight - the ability to see glimpses or visions of the future

  Seer - see fiosaiche above

  sidhe - a term for fairies in Scottish and Irish mythology

  stiuireadh - a witch or witches who possess the ability to travel through time

  Acknowledgments

  Another series complete, another group of fabulous people to thank!

  First of all, I’d like to thank the amazing and talented Kim Killion for her design of the lovely covers for the Highlander Fate, Lairds of the Isles series. It was a hard job looking through stock photos of hot kilted men for the covers, and Kim made it a blast.

  Secondly, my amazing editor Paula, whose patience, thoroughness and professionalism is more than any writer could ask for.

  Thirdly, my amazing husband-best friend-snuggler-hot-Highlander inspiration, Mr. Knight. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, you make writing dreamy heroes a cinch.

  And of course, a sincere thanks to my dear, dear readers, from my advance readers to my newsletter subscribers to any and all who have read any of my books. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Your words of praise in the form of reviews, private messages and even Facebook comments make my day. You make it possible for me to have the best job in the world.