Highlander's Passion (The Matheson Brothers Book 2) (8 page)

Another wave of cold-fire swept through her. The searing cold iced her blood and numb, she shook and fell to her knees. Her heartbeat faltered, lost a beat and made her gasp for breath.

“Arabel, no!” Finlay dropped down beside her, a mere breath away, his anguish tearing through him and her in turn. “Look at me, my sweet. Don’t leave me,” he pleaded. “If you die, then I die.”

“Nessa cannae save the villagers on her own. She needs the ‘power of three.’” She lifted one trembling hand to cup his cheek and he jerked back, raw pain slicing across his face as he was forced to do so. “Mated ones dinnae kill each other. You cannae ask me to take your life, because that is surely what will happen.”

“You have to believe in us and hold the hope all will be well. There’s nothing we can’t do if we tackle our issues together.”

“You believe in the impossible.” And she couldn’t, not when his very life hung in the balance. Another wave of loss struck her and her cold-fire continued to consume her. She slumped onto the ground, her pulse so weak and her breathing so labored.

He rose to his feet and shot a look at Isla. “I can’t watch her die, and if she lives, at least I’ll still have some hope that an answer can be found. Compel us as she’s asked.”

“Are you sure?”

“There is no other choice. Just make sure my woman warms herself, and don’t let her out of your sight until she has. Keep her safe on the eleventh. No one harms her.”

“I’ll make sure of it.” Isla grasped his shoulder and glanced between the three men. “Are you all sure?”

“Aye,” Iain said as he moved to stand by Finlay’s side. “If Arabel believes that taking her own life is acceptable, then we’ll need more time to change her mind, which will be up to you since we’ll have no clue what’s going on. Compel us.”

Kirk too nodded and stepped in beside Finlay. “That goes for me as well. Do what you must, Isla. I trust you.”

“I’ll do all I can.” Her sweetly hypnotic voice rose and flowed through the room. “Finlay, Iain, and Kirk, remain perfectly still and listen to me well. Julia has a twin named Arabel. You’ll not recall you’ve met Arabel before this moment, although you will remain very aware of her deadly skill and the need to take care around her should you come into contact with her. You’ll not ponder or think about her overly much. She is no one to you, no more than another woman who resides here within this keep. She is no one of interest or importance. No one to draw too much of your curiosity. You will also not see or acknowledge the mated mark on Finlay’s neck. It will be as if gone. Do you hear and understand me?”

“Aye,” all three men said, their dazed gazes focused on her.

“Good.” She looked deep into Finlay’s eyes and murmured, “I’m sorry, Finlay, but no matter how many times you might meet Arabel while we’re here in this time, each instance will be as if the first and all other times shall be forgotten.” Isla knelt next to Arabel before the fire. “Is there anything more you need me to add which I might have forgotten?”

“Nay. You’ve covered it all, and I thank you for your aid.”

“Then correct your cold-fire, while I’m watching. I won’t release Finlay and his brothers from my command until you’re back under control.”

“Of course.” Eyes closed, she focused fully on herself and sent small tendrils of her fire’s heat back through her body. Her blood slowly warmed and her control returned, little by little. It took several minutes but once done, heat flushed her cheeks and warmed her fingertips. She lifted her lashes, rose from the ground and nodded at Isla. “’Tis done.”

“I wish I hadn’t had to do as you asked, but I’ll give you fair warning. You must hold the hope as Finlay has asked. Together, we’ll do all we can to search for a way for the two of you to be together.” Isla hugged her. “You are my sister and I will care for you, just as I care for my mate and his brothers.”

“Finlay lives and I live. That is all I can hope for right now, but I too will search for an answer, and if there is one I will grab ahold of it, but if not, then your compelling command on him remains. I willnae take his life.” Grief consumed her, beat at her. To keep her cold-fire from returning, she snuck her arms around Finlay’s waist where he stood so perfectly still. She nuzzled his neck right over the mark she’d given him, his heavenly scent wrapping around and comforting her. “I will miss you,” she murmured against his flesh. “You are my mate and always will be. I’m sorry I forced your hand just now, but there truly was no other choice. You must live and fulfill your destiny. That is all that is important, that the villagers live.”

A shuddering breath left his lips.

“You need to go, Arabel.” Isla squeezed her arm. “No one has ever broken my compelling command yet, but if anyone could, it would be a man who’d just had his chosen one taken from him.”

“Of course.” She stepped away and Finlay swayed toward her. Heart shattering, she turned and left.

Chapter 6

Matheson Castle, Scotland, current day.

Murdock Matheson gripped the stone windowsill of his solar on the second floor overlooking the inner courtyard, a fierce vision assailing him.

He couldn’t speak to his daughter, but as a seer he saw Isla all the same. She’d compelled Finlay and his brothers and separated the mated pair. His heart ached for Finlay and Arabel and the desperately difficult path they would now tread. Finlay would forever feel incomplete and Murdock knew the feeling well. He’d lost his wife from cancer only a week following Isla’s birth. His wife had discovered a lump in her breast during the early stages of her pregnancy and though the doctor had operated, his wife hadn’t allowed any further treatment than that, not while she was expecting. She’d given up her life so their daughter could have hers, and her fierce love and devotion for their child had humbled him. Ever since that day, he’d done his best to honor his wife’s request of him, to give Isla all the love that she would have given her. And if not for that promise he’d made, he would have gladly taken his own life in order to be with his chosen one. His life was a slow death without his mate, as Finlay’s would now be.

“Murdock?”

Nessa’s voice jerked his vision toward her. The wise seer of ancient times stood within the fae village along the loch, right near the center well draped in ivy. She wore an elegant olive gown with lacy white sleeves fluttering over her wrists, her red hair wisped with gray coiled high atop her head.

“I see you, Nessa.”

“Did you see as I saw? Isla has compelled Finlay and his brothers. I didnae know Finlay and Arabel were mated until this moment, although I have no’ seen my granddaughter’s death occur at the coming battle as Isla mentioned was recorded in history. Of course I dinnae always see all.”

“I never saw my wife’s passing either.” And for that he’d been most grateful. It would have been sheer hell to know the day and time he would have lost her. “We won’t let Arabel die. She’s the first with her skill to mate with a shifter and that gives me hope a resolution might be found.”

“Aye, and the mated bond wouldn’t have formed between Finlay and Arabel unless they were a match in every way. I agree. There is still hope.”

“Together, we’ll watch over them both.”

“We shall. I certainly willnae allow my granddaughter to lose her mated one.” A spark of determination flickered in her eyes. “Until the next time, my friend.”

“Aye, the next time.”

Nessa’s image fluttered away, lost to him through the ages, but not the knowledge Nessa would ensure all remained on the right path. She wouldn’t fail her people, just as he wouldn’t fail them either.

Breathing deep, he cast his gaze out the window. Beyond the breakers, a seagull screeched then circled the foaming waves and dived within. Moments later, it heaved itself out of the water, a flapping fish within its beak as it rejoiced in its victory. It soared along the loch toward the sacred site of the lost village of the fae.

So many lives had been so recklessly lost over eight-hundred years ago, the village leaders so certain they’d never come under attack, but the MacKenzie had wanted it all, and if he couldn’t take the House of Clan Matheson and the prized location Gilleoin held at the tip of Loch Alsh, then he’d slaughter them all. Their future had to change.

“Chief.” A knock sounded. “It’s Daniel.”

“Come in.” He shook his despondency off as Daniel, his right hand man, walked in and shut the door. “Take a seat.”

“Have you
seen
anything more?” In beige pants and a cream muscle t-shirt, Daniel perched on the forest-green couch underneath a wall-hanging of a stunning black and white drawing of Matheson Castle as it had stood in the twelfth century, an image he’d drawn himself from a vision years ago, from the time when he’d first spoken to Nessa through a joint vision.

“Finlay’s found his mate, but hit a snag. His chosen one is a woman by the name of Arabel, a woman who also holds the fae skill of fire.”

“Ah hell, please tell me you’re not serious.” Daniel clasped his hands, elbows pressed to his knees. “Being bound to a fire-wielder is a death sentence, for both of them.”

“As Arabel is aware. She asked Isla to compel Finlay and his brothers, to ensure that from this moment forth it would be as if she and Finlay had never met. Arabel gave them all very little choice but to agree to her request. If they didn’t, she had no intention of tending to her cold-fire that had arisen. She is feisty and strong, and the bond between her and Finlay had clearly taken ahold for her to make such a demand. She desires his protection, even though that means their separation.”

“Then all is not lost if they both live.” Daniel nodded. “A bond also wouldn’t have formed between them unless it was meant to be.”

“I agree.”

Hope was all their kind needed to survive. Hope brought courage and desire to the forefront, and allowed their people to be all that they could be. Everything happened within its own time for a reason, and he too would hold hope for Finlay and Arabel. An answer had to be sought. There had to be a way for a fire-wielder to join with their one and only, and if anyone could find it, it would be the ‘power of three.’

Chapter 7

Three endlessly long days later, Arabel sat next to Julia at a table at the rear of the great hall to break her fast. She’d been late down to eat, wanting to miss the busy hour following dawn when Finlay and his brothers ate with the other men. Gilleoin, Nessa and Sorcha still remained at the village although Kenneth had returned to oversee the warriors and ensure the teams of men patrolling their borders and the ridge of coastline in and around the keep and the village, were at their most alert.

Julia squeezed her hand, her unwavering presence at her side resolute and unending. Her sister had cried with her when she’d told her of all that had unfolded between her and Finlay, and she’d listened as Julia had told her of her conversation with Nessa. Their grandmother had seen her flares and agreed the four elements had been upset by the arrival of those from the future. Usually realignment was needed, and that occurred when fire, water, air and earth once again joined together as one, something she’d said nature itself had to bring about.

“How is my aura, this morn?” she asked Julia.

“The cold-fire simmers at the edge, but it does no’ drift any deeper.”

“I’m doing all I can to keep any emotions of grief and loss at bay, but it isnae easy. I miss Finlay. From the moment I left him, I left a piece of my soul behind.” She’d snuck as many glimpses of him in during the past three days that she could.

Yesterday, she’d stood at her chamber window as he’d trained below in the yard with the other warriors. His skill with the two-handed claymore was immense. He’d struck the man he’d fought against again and again until his large opponent had wheezed and dropped to his knees under the ferocious onslaught. So too his ability on the archery field surpassed any other. She’d hidden in the forest at the edge of the clearing where the warriors trained. Finlay had swung his bow from his back, eased his left foot slightly in front of the right then slid the arrow into the notch. Only one warrior had hit the target dead center and he’d ribbed Finlay from the sidelines that none could beat him. That hadn’t deterred her mate one bit. With fierce determination, he’d lifted the arrow tip and aligned his sight on the red strip of fabric tied around a trunk two-hundred yards away. Then he’d let his arrow go and it had flown free and arched perfectly as it sailed. Right on target, it hit and splintered the other warrior’s arrow in two as it embedded itself deep into the trunk.

“Are you all right?” Julia tapped her arm.

“I need to find him. Just being able to see him helps, even though I have to remain out of his sight.”

“Finlay is training in the loch, swimming in a loop between here and the village.” Julia picked up a small bowl of honey from the center of the table and swirled it over her oats then added a splash of milk from the jug, the ruffled sleeves of her sunshine-yellow gown flapping as she did. She nudged Arabel’s spoon toward her. “Come, your oats will go cold if you dinnae eat them.”

“I’m no’ hungry.”

“You still need to eat a spoonful or two.” Julia picked up the large pitcher and filled two brass goblets with warm cider, passed one to her and took a sip from the second. “You’re to drink as well.”

That at least she could do to appease her sister. Brass goblet in hand, she took a sip of the tangy cider then set it back down. Today, just like the last two, the drink slid tastelessly down her throat. Being without her mate tore at her heart, and no matter the smidgeon of hope she clung to, that there might truly be an answer, her despair still rose again and again. Over the last three days, Isla had aided her in scouring through the parchment rolls recording their fae history, papers Nessa kept here within an antechamber off the great hall. They’d sat together for hour upon hour going over all the recordings, yet not once had either of them found anything of use which might lead to a resolution. Even though she’d forced hers and Finlay’s separation in order to save his life, if there was a way for them to be together, she intended to find it. Holding even a smidgeon of hope was a powerful thing.