Highlander's Faerie (Highlander Heat Book 5) (8 page)

“What’s an iphone, Katherine?” Mary’s eyes lit with interest as she asked her. Whenever they mentioned something from the future, she always asked about it, and she adored Mary’s excitement.

“It’s a device that fits in the palm of your hand. You hold it, either to your ear, or press the speaker button, and it picks up your voice. You can use it to talk to anyone in the world, provided they’ve got the same kind of device at their end.”

“Anyone in the world?” Her mouth dropped open. “Surely you jest?”

“Nope. They’re a relatively new device. Cell phones have only been around for twenty-five years or so.”

“How incredible.” Mary tilted her head toward Marie as she sewed. “And that bra you’re making looks so intriguing. When did that item of underwear first become available?”

“I’m not sure, but the French first called this a brassiere. The corsest the ladies of this time wear, lift the breasts quite well and taper the waist in, but the bra molds only the breasts and allows a greater freedom of movement around the midsection. I can’t be without one.”

“The fabric is so soft.” She reached across and fingered the satin. “And so pretty.”

“If you’d like, I’ll make you one next. Perhaps a nursing bra first.” Marie picked up a swathe of padded white linen from Mary’s fabric basket. “I’ll include this padding in front of the satin so it captures any leakage.”

“Oh, wonderful.” Mary beamed.

Katherine let out a long breath, pushed off the windowsill and paced the solar, from tapestry covered wall to wall. “I hate the way John and I parted.”

“You can’t change what’s happened.” Marie’s gaze softened. “He’s worried about you, and I’m not surprised considering the fae’s request. Even I know it’s only a matter of time before you find a way to escape George.”

“You sound like you agree with the fact John’s all but made me housebound.”

“No, but”—she scratched her head—“I still don’t understand why the fae asked you to bring about peace, not when peace doesn’t come for some years.”

“You think I should ignore their request?”

“Honestly, no. It’s best you don’t, although you’ll need to take great care when you travel to Mull. I feel as if there’s more to this mission than what you’ve been told.”

“Same, but I can’t do a thing about it while I’m stuck here on Islay. Somehow I have to escape my guard, then figure out the rest when I get to Duart.” She scrubbed her face. “I miss him, badly. I never thought my feelings for him would grow so strong, or so quickly.”

“Then use this time to give yourself some breathing space.”

“He’s done that with his leaving.” Didn’t her sister understand? “He holds a piece of my soul, Marie. Our bond goes far deeper than I ever thought possible. Being with him is so soothing, like I’ve come home.” She stopped at the window and rubbed her achy chest. The forest beckoned, because somewhere out there, John roamed. “It hurts to know he’s meant for another.” The pain worsened as it sliced through her.

“Do you mean Madison MacDonald?” Mary cleared her throat.

“Pardon?” She spun about. “Who’s Madison MacDonald?”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I presumed you knew. You said it hurts to know he’s meant for another.”

“Yes, but I didn’t actually know there was already another? Who on earth is Madison?”

“Allow me to tell you about her. Three years past, Angus spoke to John and Archie about his desire to have one of his captains wed his second cousin from Skye and strengthen the bonds between the two MacDonald clans. Madison is Evan MacDonald’s eldest daughter and she lives at Dunscaith, although the lass was only three and ten at the time. Archie gave Angus an adamant no and said he would never take a wife, so John stepped forward and agreed to the match.”

“Why didn’t he say anything?” He’d never mentioned a word to her.

“Mayhap he’s forgotten.” Mary set her mending down. “With the feud and Angus’s capture, all talks were laid aside.”

“Are such talks binding?”

“Naught has been formally contracted, but aye, John’s verbal agreement to a marriage could be considered binding in itself.”

Goodness, and now three years had passed. The girl would be sixteen, old enough to wed in this day and age.

“Katherine?” Deep compassion swam in Marie’s gaze. “Are you all right?”

Numb, she nodded. “At least I now know who he’s meant for.” She knelt at Mary’s feet, her burgundy skirts billowing around her. “Tell me more about Madison.”

“I’ve no’ seen her in three years, but at the time I thought her a spritely lass with her wide smile and auburn hair. Being the eldest, she aids her mother with her younger siblings. She’ll make him a fine wife.”

Mary’s words roared in her ears. “I—I want him to have a fine wife,” she whispered.

“Katherine, you’re crying.” Marie wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Everything will be all right.”

“John is promised to another.” She wiped her wet cheeks. “He’ll never be mine.” Although maybe this was exactly what she’d needed to hear. The fae had given her a mission and she had to leave, and preferably before John returned.

“I know what you’re thinking.” Marie hugged her. “You want to leave, except you’re supposed to keep him close. The fae told you so.”

“Yes, but he’s made it abundantly clear he hates all things MacLean. I’ve no choice but to leave, and I’ll need your help. I can’t sneak out of here without aid.”

“You’ll always have my aid.” She breathed a long sigh. “I can’t believe I’m going to help send you away.”

“Allow me to aid you as well. I believe in your mission, Katherine.” Mary rummaged through the basket of clothing still needing repair. “You’re a MacLean and you wear my amulet. Once you reach Mull, tell the MacLeans I sent you. Many of the warriors we fought against at the Rhinns saw Marie and you’re her identical. Allow them to assume you are her. No one would harm one of the fae.”

“I can do that.”

“Good. Also, seek my brother’s wife out. Margaret cared for James and she has a kind heart.”

“I promise I’ll seek her out, only how do I get to Mull?”

“Make your way along the coastline to Ardbeg. The seaside village is close and once you reach it, you can hire one of the fishermen to sail you across the waterway. They willnae wish to make landfall for long, but I have my own coin and I’ll give you what you need to ensure your safe passage.” She hauled a lad’s fawn-colored tunic, breeches, and cap from the basket and passed it to her. “I made these for Hector, but he’s yet to grow into them. This clothing should fit you and provide an adequate disguise. We need to sneak you out of here.”

“Now, that’s a plan I can work with.” Excitement and trepidation rolled through her in equal measure. Leaving for Mull was right, the reason she was here. Quickly, she unlaced her gown, donned the lad’s clothing and bundled her hair up under the cap. Mary passed her a pair of socks and boots. She tugged them on and twirled around. “How do I look?”

“You’ll need a plaid to keep you warm, one that does no’ hold the MacDonald colors.” Mary searched inside her basket and grinned as she pulled out a black and white tartan. She wrapped it around her waist and secured it with a pin across her chest. “Now, you look perfect.”

“I’ll fetch supplies from the kitchen and pack you a bag.” Marie dashed to the door in a flurry of emerald skirts. “I won’t be long.” She snuck out.

“I’ll see to the fae’s mission. I won’t fail them, or you, Mary.”

“I know you willnae, but please, take care.” Mary crossed to her corner desk and opened a drawer. She returned and pressed several coins into her hand. “This should see you through.”

“Thank you. I’d like to write John a note.” She pocketed the coins then picked up a quill and a piece of paper from Mary’s desk. She explained to him her reason for going and that she hadn’t wished to leave under such circumstances, but she’d return, as soon as her mission was complete and that he wasn’t to worry about her. After signing her name, she blew on the wet ink and once it dried, folded the letter in three. “Could you give this to him for me?”

“Of course.” Mary slid it into her olive gown’s pocket.

“I’ve got everything you need.” Marie rushed back into the room, her cheeks flushed and a wooden pail in hand. “George just popped out to the bailey. He’s overseeing the change of guard so now’s the perfect time for you to leave.”

“I take it I’m to collect the fish for the day?”

“That you are.” She passed her the pail holding a brown canvas satchel hidden inside. “The cook’s son was about to head down to the bay to collect the fishermen’s catch. I told him I would ask another to see to the task. With Mary’s help, we’ll get you out of here, or at least that’s the plan.”

* * * *

Ten minutes later Katherine swung her pail in one hand as she ambled across the bailey, her gait the same as the cook’s son’s lanky stride. Across the keep near the center well, Mary and Marie walked then stopped. Mary gasped then with an anguished moan, bent over. Mary’s cry tore at her, made her want to drop her pail and run to her, but she held her place.

The guards raced toward Mary and Marie, George at the front.

The moment they passed Katherine, she dashed out the gate and raced into the forest. Her sister could be as sneaky as her, and it appeared her ancestor as well.

Once clear of the guardsmen’s sight, she followed the trail until the crashing of the ocean’s waves reached her on the breeze. Veering toward the sea, she scrambled down a stony track and onto the beach. Behind her, Dunyvaig stood like a sentinel perched on the tip of Lagavulin Bay.

Time to complete her mission. She straightened her shoulders and firmed her resolve. Ardbeg was only a few miles away. She’d get there, find a fisherman and sail to Mull.

As she trekked, seagulls circled overhead. One squawked then dove into the white-capped waves and emerged with a fish. Its catch drew the attention of the other birds and they flew after it. Past the screeching cacophony and across the waterway, Mull and her MacLean kin awaited her. Hopefully her father’s clan would embrace her and not turn her away.

Goodness. Was she truly leaving the safety of Dunyvaig for the unknown of Duart? Her step slowed as worry skittered through her. No, this was right. She had to continue on.

The sun dipped along the horizon and sent a final flare of red across the sunset sky. The wind blasted through and she shivered. Ahead, the bay curved and a stream gurgled into the sea. She clambered over the rocks, lowered herself to her knees at the brook’s edge and dipped her hands into the stream and sipped. Icy water hit her empty belly and she swayed.

“Well, well, who do we have here?” A scraggly bearded warrior stepped out of the gloominess of the tree line, his grass-stained tattered tunic smeared with blood. His gaze moved over her then to the amulet glinting at her neck. “The faerie, the one we captured and took to the Rhinns. This is a boon finding you.”

“You’re Finlay?” He looked exactly as he had in her vision.

“Aye.” His bushy brown brows drew together. “It appears you’re a clever faerie too. ’Tis no wonder my chief wanted you.”

“I might be fae, but I’m also of both clans, MacLean and MacDonald.”

“That worries me no’. Lachlan chose you as the bait to lure the MacDonalds into a battle, and so will I, except on MacLean land where we’ll have a greater fighting force.”

“I’ll never aid you in your war, not when the fae have given me the task to bring about some peace.”

“There will never be peace.” He spat on the ground. “You have the power to aid us in the return of our land, and even though Lachlan was taken by the king’s men following our battle, I willnae give up his fight. As my hostage, you’ll provide me with bargaining power I need over the MacDonalds. The Rhinns will be ours. Make no mistake about that.” He grabbed her arm and hauled her after him. Hidden within bushes at the bend in the bay, a half-beached skiff sat waiting. He tossed her into the hull, pushed the boat into the water and sprayed drops over her as he bounded in.

Even though John had searched this area and now scoured the woods for Finlay, he hadn’t changed history. Finlay had found her, and with the Isle of Mull now her destination, she didn’t put up a fight. She would arrive at Duart by Finlay’s hand, the future unchanged.

* * * *

As the sun dipped along the horizon, John crouched in the forest at the base of a tree next to Archie and their men. For the past two days, they’d searched the woods within five miles of Dunyvaig.

“These are the freshest tracks we’ve come across.” Archie inspected the prints in the damp soil then stared upward. “It appears our adversary may have used the treetops to remain hidden.”

Above, a rope made of vines looped around the tree’s bow, gave evidence of that very fact. John nodded. “He slept in the bow, securing himself with the vines so as no’ to fall.”

“I’ll take a closer look.” Archie eyed Eric. “Give me a boost.”

Eric, one of their best trackers, bent and cupped his hands. He was a massive man, yet one who had the uncanny ability of slipping in and out of the smallest spaces.

Archie planted his foot in Eric’s palms and jumped as Eric heaved him upward. Archie knelt in the bow then peered across at the tree closest to him. He leaped and sailed through the air, from one tree to the next then when he could go no farther, he shimmied down the trunk and landed on the mossy ground with a soft clomp. Bending, he surveyed the area. “Here’s where the tracks begin again.”