Highlander's Caress: Medieval Romance (The Fae Book 2) (14 page)

“I am, but no’ without mishap. I have so much to tell you both.” She grasped Grandpa and hugged him. “This is one tale you need to hear.”

“Come inside then and you can change out of those damp clothes and tell us all about it.” He pushed the front door open wider.

“Aye, we’ll have you warmed up in no time.” Grandma rested a hand at her back and steered her inside and across the main room toward hers and Grandpa’s bedchamber. Inside the room with its large bed and burgundy and blue patchwork quilt, Grandma swept the ambry curtain aside and foraged within. “Your voice does no’ sound quite right. Why is that?”

“I’ve no’ long recovered from a chill.”

“Danger abounds when a compeller loses their voice.” Worry flared across Grandma’s face as she pulled out a forest-green gown from the back, one which she’d sewn and gifted to Ella on her last birthday. Grandma laid the gown on the bed then hunted some more and pulled out a basket. From the top, she selected a shift and flapped it out. “Disrobe, my dear.”

“I’ll be glad to do so, even if for a gown.” She shucked her coat, shirt, and breeches which had chaffed the insides of her legs, pulled the shift on and sighed as the warmth of the warm cotton encased her.

Next came the gown. With her arms raised, Grandma slid the soft velvet over her head and it shimmered over her hips and swished to her ankles, the low neckline stitched with golden embroidery, the same detailing sewn along the sleeves which draped over the backs of her hands. She slipped her feet into the matching slippers Grandma set at her feet then fastened a golden girdle at her waist, the tasseled ends sweeping down to her knees.

“I’ll get these dirtied clothes of yours washed and on the line.” Grandma scooped up the pile of clothing and disappeared out the door with it.

She crossed to the window and pressed her hands to the windowsill. The morning sunshine streamed in and flickered over her. At least the storm had now fully passed. She embraced the warmth of this new day, her relief at being here with her most beloved kin, flowing through her. All she’d ever learnt of her skill had been at Grandma’s hand. Aye, the two of them held the same skill and during her youth, Grandma had taught her all she’d ever needed to learn in order to wield her ability wisely.

“Come, my dear.” Grandma peered around the corner in her blue woolen kirtle, one hand on the doorway. “A meal awaits us all.”

“Coming.” She joined her grandparents in the main room and sat at the table near the blazing fire while Grandpa poured warm apple cider into a goblet and passed it to her.

“I’ll comb your hair. You’ve gotten it into an awful mess.” Grandma scooped the comb from the kitchen bench and standing at her back, gently worked her knotted plait loose. “Tell me how you’ve ended up this way. I’m sure ’twill be an interesting tale.”

“I’m running from my handfast husband.” She sipped the sweet cider.

“Pardon?” Grandma jerked on her hair. “Oh, so sorry, my dear. You surprised me is all. Are you saying you’ve found your soul bound mate?”

“She better have if she’s now wed.” Grandpa leaned over the table, cut a slice from the loaf of bread and slathered it in Grandma’s delicious raspberry jam before setting it on a plate before her. “We Mathesons certainly dinnae wed those who arenae meant to be ours, that is unless we’re certain we are without our chosen one.”

“I can only say he’s my husband since I’ve given him my word to keep all his secrets safe. He has quite a few I’m afraid.” She didn’t doubt that like Ethan, her grandparents too would soon guess that any man she wed must surely hold fae blood. Never would she have wed another over waiting for her chosen one.

“Then we’ll presume him to be of fae blood even though you cannae say so.” Grandpa dropped into his corner rocking chair, one he’d made himself from a tree he’d felled last winter. Never had she seen another chair like it, the base made of two thick, half-moon shaped wedges attached to the legs. Back and forth, he rocked, his immensely curious gaze locked on her. “Tell us all about your husband and why he isnae here with you right now.”

“His name is Duncan MacKenzie and he’s the second-born son of the Chief of MacKenzie.”

“You have a MacKenzie for a mate?” Grandpa coughed. “You’re certain?”

“I’m certain.”

“Oh, how interesting.” Beaming, Grandma divided her hair into sections then brushed with long, gentle strokes, one foot tapping merrily away at the floor. “Even though our Matheson clan have been at war with the MacKenzies for a very long time, there have still been the odd marriages that have taken place between us over the centuries, that is whenever peace prevailed. How has your Duncan come to hold fae blood, my dear? Through his father or mother?”

“I cannae say.” She gave them both a pointed look. “Which will likely be the answer to every question you’re going to ask me regarding him.”

“Then what can you share?”

“He’s loyal, protective, and has already stolen my heart, although last eve I was forced to run away from him.”

“Start at the beginning, and tell us all that you can.” Grandma notched one brow up, her compelling tone rising to the same sweetly hypnotic tone her own usually did. “I insist, and you know how I like to get my own way.”

“Aye, just as I do.” With Grandma’s compelling command ringing strongly in her ears, Ella began. “Well, so you might understand the turn of events properly. These past few weeks Gavin MacDonald has been causing mayhem, even snuck onto Duncan’s land and slaughtered his cattle, as well as set fire to a couple of longhouses at Inverarish, the village under Duncan’s care. Ethan is currently with Gavin, has been attempting to halt his devious strikes only he’s had no luck. Meanwhile, I’ve been trying to catch up to them both. I even managed to do so a few days ago, as well as to successfully compel Gavin and demand he return to Dunscaith. Now, I’m to meet Gavin and Ethan there and when I do, I intend on compelling Gavin further as well as speaking to the Chief of MacDonald so I might ensure all is made right. This warring between the clans must stop.”

“Gavin has been on a destructive path these past few months.” Grandpa leaned forward in his rocking chair, elbows braced to his knees. “This last spring, he even stormed though Kinloch and demanded additional rents be paid, said he did so at his chief’s bidding although ’twas naught but a lie.” He waved a hand in a rolling motion. “Continue on. What’s caused you to leave your husband behind?”

“Duncan fears for my safety, wishes only to send me back to Ardan House and have me locked away, yet ’tis I who must make certain Gavin’s attacks are halted, no’ him. The last thing I wish to do, is to bring even further harm down upon Duncan’s head.”

“Och, I see your predicament.” Frowning, Grandpa rose and paced the room, his booted feet scuffing the fresh rushes Grandma always scattered about the floors.

“I take it you compelled Duncan in order to sneak away from him?” Grandma patted her shoulder from behind.

“Aye, he left me with no choice.”

“There are choices aplenty now.” Grandpa braced his hands on his hips as he halted in front of her. “Your grandma and I will travel with you to Dunscaith and aid you in altering Gavin’s course, as well as speak to the MacDonald. There is no need for you to tackle this mission alone, no’ when you now have us. ’Twill be far easier to see things made right with two compellers at hand.”

“’Twill also take us no time at all to sail to Dunscaith.” Grandma set her brush down. “We’ll leave after you’ve had some time to rest, Ella. You’re clearly exhausted and have been walking right through the night.”

“I fear taking the waterways and encountering Duncan. My compelling command willnae halt him forever. ’Twould be best if we rode to Dunscaith.”

“Then we’ll ride, although we’ll need horses if we’re to do so.” Grandma eyed Grandpa. “We can fetch three mounts from Gregor’s stables while Ella rests.”

“Agreed. That willnae take us long.”

“Then ’tis all sorted.” Grandma grasped Ella’s hands and tugged her from her chair. Hands on her shoulders, she nudged her down the short hallway toward the spare chamber next to theirs, the room one she’d always used when staying with them.

At the chamber doorway, she blew her grandparents a kiss. Aye, together, they’d sort this out. She had no doubt that they would.

* * * *

High in the craggy hills leading inland, Duncan crouched along a stony trail with Ivor beside him. The ground was soft underfoot, even more so after the squall of yesterday. He touched Ella’s booted footprints he’d been following since dawn. Here, the odd clump of loose dirt and gravel had skittered from the pathway down the cliff side and into the corrie below, one strewn with sand and stones.

Last eve, after he and Ivor had found no trace of her passing along the coastline, they’d returned to the cliff where his men had made camp following Hamish’s unsuccessful search as well. After a short rest, he’d set out with Ivor to search farther inland. Just the two of them since the last thing he needed was to have all forty of his men tramping across enemy soil and alerting the MacDonald of their arrival on his land. All stealth at present was needed.

Teeth gritted, he studied Ella’s tracks deeper. She’d done well to disguise her passage where possible, doubling back in certain places and taking advantage of the streams to conceal her footprints wherever possible. Yet she couldn’t hide her final destination. Dunscaith Castle. Even when he’d lost her prints here and there, he’d soon found them again. “We need to catch up to her now.”

“Aye, she moves with a faster pace, her footprint slightly deeper.” Ivor fingered the mark then pushed to his feet.

Hell, when he found his wayward wife, he’d bind and gag her, bundle her up in his galley and take her directly back to Ardan House where he could lock her away in his bedchamber and ensure she never escaped him again. This mission of hers was perilous, even more so now since she’d set out on her own. One misstep could certainly see her toppling over the side of a ridge and plummeting to her death and that thought, he could barely endure.

Surveying the treacherous path ahead, he trekked on.

As the hours passed, he left the mountainous plateau behind and cut through a narrow gorge in the hills. There, he found the spot where she’d stopped to kneel at the edge of a river for a drink, her knee prints firm in the sandy soil. Although, she hadn’t crossed the fast-flowing waters here, her prints moving on alongside the bank. He scooped water and drank, his satchel strapped to his back, Ella’s too since he’d grabbed it before leaving the temporary camp he and his men had set up at the bay.

Back on the sodden trail, he picked up his pace, Ivor one step behind him.

Striding through the boggy grasses, he remained alert as he scanned their surroundings. Soon, he left the marshland behind and jogged through the forest and along a leaf strewn trail. He trotted past a massive pine tree with a trunk at least three times the size of any other and stopped.

Something about it intrigued him and he turned back. Roaming around it, he spied engraved letters scored into the bark and gently, he traced the etched markings.
E & E.

On the ground, Ella’s booted marks showed she’d stopped here as well.

“Ella and Ethan,” he bit out to Ivor. The initials could easily stand for such. “We’re close, very close.”

Picking up his pace, he ran until he reached a divide in the path. A white arrow painted on the surface of a rock pointed straight ahead, likely to Kinloch harbor, although ’twas the path veering to the right that held her firm print. Her grandparents lived close to the harbor. She’d said they resided only a day’s ride from Dunscaith. That would make this spot as being about right.

He took the trail she had, the midday sunshine streaming through the canopy overhead and flecking golden rays over the path holding thick scrub either side and snaking tree roots. Birds twittered from high in their nests, their chirps echoing through the woods in a high-pitched chorus.

Onward, he stormed then halted as the forest suddenly gave way to a small clearing dotted with yellow flowers and thick clumps of grass. Smoke curled into the air from a cottage with a thatched rooftop while clothes fluttered on a rope hung between two elm trees.

Amongst those clothes a very familiar pair of navy breeches and a brown rawhide coat dried. Ella’s clothes. Relief swamped him, right along with a fierce bolt of need to find her and gather her close in his arms.

Sword unsheathed, he snuck across the meadow toward the front door and tested the handle. It turned with ease and the door creaked open. All remained eerily quiet inside. A fire blazed along one wall near a table with two chairs and a bench tucked underneath it. Ella’s riding boots sat propped in front of the hearth and as he crouched near the table, he picked up a strand of her brown hair. Aye, very close indeed.

In the kitchen tucked to one side of the main room, pots and utensils hung from hooks and a larder sat recessed into a darkened nook. He crept, across freshly scented rushes and past an open door leading to a bedchamber with a soft burgundy and blue patchwork quilt. No one remained within the room, the sunshine streaming through the window and dappling across the covers.

He continued on toward the chamber door at the far end of the passageway. It remained closed, but all his instincts blared that he’d find his chosen one within that room.

Over his shoulder, he gestured for Ivor to await him outside and to maintain a tight guard. No one would keep his wife from him a moment longer, not even Ella herself.