Just Wait For Me (Highland Gardens Book 3) (3 page)

September, 1513

The wilds of Scotland

Jillian paraded along with the children, navigating a narrow
game trail, brambles snagging her fleece leggings, nerves tense. They’d better
not be luring her into danger.

After about an hour, they left the forest path. She inhaled
briny air and hesitated. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear they were near
the sea.
West Virginia isn’t near the ocean.
A large finger lake
meandered off to the side and out of sight. She cupped a hand at her brow to
lessen the glare from the sun. Tall cliffs rose from the opposite shore, craggy
reflections shimmering on the water’s surface. Pairs of black and white birds
chattered from narrow rock ledges then darted into the air and dove into the
water, resurfacing with small fish in their beaks. She’d find the scene
delightful, if not feeling unnerved.

They continued along the water’s edge until the terrain
abruptly sloped upward. The children darted ahead. A narrow rock-strewn trail
climbed through a hillside of heather. Some plants still in bloom. Jillian
brushed the toe of a bike shoe across a spike of muted, purple blossoms,
triggering a light floral scent. She hadn’t imagined heather to be so prevalent
in West Virginia. Actually, she’d expected more trees.

She shrugged and followed the kids. What did she know having
never been there before?

As the trail became rougher and steeper, the children
scrambled over boulders like little monkeys. Jillian slipped on scree and
cursed her unsuitable bike shoes. Overheating, she removed her wind jacket,
stuffed it into her pack, and then drew the red fleece top she wore over her
head, tying it around her waist by the sleeves. After tripping and falling a
couple more times, short of breath, hands torn and stinging, she caught up to
the kids. They had reached a shelf that ran along the cliff face.

Not comfortable with heights, she didn’t dare look down.
“Just where exactly are you taking me?”

“A hidden way into the caves.” Duff smiled from where he
negotiated the ledge at her side.

Jillian huffed out a breath. “Isn’t there an easier
approach?”

“Aye, there is.” He shook his head. “Not safe. We dinnae
want to run into bad men.”

Cripes
. “Are there many in the area?”

He nodded, features grim, but then his face brightened with
a smile. “Dinnae fret. We ken how to avoid them.”

Just great. She hoped they didn’t find trouble.

They continued, taking one precarious step after another.
Jillian gulped. The shelf they crept along was getting narrower. She gripped
the rock face with now bleeding fingers. “How much farther?”

“Almost there.” Duff brushed a wisp of blond hair out of
hazel eyes.

And then what? Why had she followed the kids? She sighed.
Because there was no one else to help her get unlost. All right then. Jillian
straightened her shoulders. Might as well follow through.

One after the other, the children leapt over a crevasse, a
perilous drop, then disappeared from sight. Duff waited until Jillian sidled up
close. “Just over this gap is the cave.”

“Okay.” She watched him jump and disappear same as the other
children.

Jillian swallowed hard. Easy peasy. Right? Inhaling deeply,
she took a leap of faith and tumbled sideways into the mouth of the cave,
sprawling on hands and knees.

“Ouch!” Her voice echoed in the cavernous space.

It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dim interior,
but then she smiled. Blaney and Duff held torches, and three harmless-looking
grandmotherly types stood with the children, concerned expressions wrinkling
their brows.

“What have you wee urchins brought to our door?” one woman
asked.

The three wore strange clothing—long gray skirts with gray
over-blouses and dark gray on light gray plaid shawls covering their heads and
wrapped around their chests—as if from a different time period. Actually, now
that Jillian thought about it, the children’s drab rags seemed from a time long
past. Her pulse quickened.

“Just exactly where am I?”

One of the women cackled causing gooseflesh to prickle
Jillian’s arms. “Ach, well, these caverns are kenned by many as the Caves of
the Gray Women. Welcome to our home.”

“Seems the children have brought us another stray soul in
need of help, sisters,” said the one who spoke first.

“Best we tell our lad,” said the third. “Come, lass.”

“Wait—”

The three women abruptly turned and ducked into a narrow
tunnel, the children at their heels. Except for Duff and Keita. They waited
solemnly.

Could the women help her?

Jillian shivered. Another tunnel. Although these caves
didn’t feel as threatening as the old train tunnel on the bike trail had.
Tugging her warm fleece top back on, she swallowed rising anxiety before it
overwhelmed her and smiled at the children. “Shall we?”

A short trek through the rough-sided tunnel brought them to
a smaller cavern. Jillian inhaled sharply when one of the torches shed light on
a large lump in the corner. A blond man, wrapped in her stolen space blanket,
sprawled motionless on plaid blankets spread over the stone floor with his back
to them.”

“Stephen dear, we have company.”

The man turned slowly and rose to a seated position. He wore
an impassive expression, a long, sharp-looking, knife clutched in a big hand.

“How did you get my space blanket?” Jillian curled her hands
into fists, anger making her braver than prudent.

The man’s head tilted to the side as he studied her, and the
blanket slipped revealing a massive bare chest. A terribly scarred chest. The
blade disappeared and a smile curved his mouth. Jillian’s mind turned to mush.
She took a step back and tried not to drool. Though he was scruffy, his
gorgeous blue peepers knocked the air from her lungs.

With effort, Stephen blanked his features. ’Twas quite a
feat, being he gazed upon the loveliest creature, eyes wide, a hand clutched to
her chest. Damn! She was repulsed by the sight of him. He tugged the cloth up,
covering the puffy, pink scars on his chest, hoping to ease her distaste.

At least his face hadn’t been damaged in the battle.

Her arm dropped to the side, lips parting ever so slightly.
Maybe she wasn’t offended by his scars? He smiled again.

“What have we here?” he asked, voice gruff from lack of use.

The lass moistened her lips. Becoming aroused, he stifled a
groan. Damned luck. Of all times to find a woman to have such an effect on him.
Him
with serious injury and, perhaps worse, handfasted with another.
Though loath to have gotten into such a predicament with a lass he disliked and
didn’t trust, the fact remained another woman already laid claim to him.
Refusing to dawdle on that path of thought, he shook off unwanted memories.

The lass standing before him must be the one of whom Munn spoke.
Her garments were strange. Of a type of cloth unknown to him. But it was her
heart-shaped face framed by hair the color of the rich earth in Castle
Lachlan’s garden that left him spellbound. Dark lashes graced warm brown eyes
specked with gold that made his insides shiver. And the tip of an impish nose
sprinkled with fern-tickles—as if the lass were descended from the fae—begged
to be kissed.

Her lips—

Grrr! He’d never be able to fulfill the desire to kiss those
sweet lips. Why did she drop into his life now? When he was already handfasted
and only half a man?

“Like what you see?” The angry tone of her voice snapped him
out of the rude perusal.

“What is your name?” he demanded.

She raised her chin, and he thought she would refuse to
answer.

“Jillian O’Donnell. And
you
have
my
space
blanket.” Her hands fisted on slender hips.

“I never meant… Here.” He dropped the odd silver
plaide
and struggled with his crutch to stand. Heat flushed his face and pain burned
his muscles. He wobbled before finding secure footing for his wounded leg. He
held out the cloth. “Take it.”

The lass gasped. Eyes wide, she clutched the
plaide
to her chest. “You’re…”

“What? Have you not seen a naked man afore?”
Fool
.
Now she kenned the enormity of his injuries.

Without waiting for an answer, he leaned on the crutch and
hobbled across the chamber and, less stable than he would have liked, ducked
into the tunnel and away from the delectable lass, his powerful reaction to her
more than disturbing.

Munn spun, creating a whirlwind of leaves and forest debris,
onto the spot where he’d left the lass. She was gone. He stomped across the
ground and sniffed the air, his nose wrinkling with distaste. The lost
bairns
had been there. He didn’t have time for their tricks this day.

He furrowed his brow and pursed his lips. Perhaps the lass
was with the
bairns
?

Stephen would be angry with him, but he hadn’t meant to lose
track of the lass. Munn hung his head, kicked at the dirt. What to do? What to
do?

Fading from sight, he followed the scent of the
bairns
through the wood, along the edge of the sea-loch, over the heather-covered
hill, along the cliff face to the hidden entrance of the caves. He clung to the
craggy rock wall and, gripping narrow crevices with fingers and toes, peered
over the edge into the mouth of the cave. Had the
bairns
brought the
lass to Stephen?

Cloaked with invisibility, Munn crept into the sprawling
outer chamber, not wishing to encounter the Gray Women. He inhaled sharply,
catching the mingling essence of peony and freesia and sandalwood.
Caitrina
.
She must be near.

Was she here to check on Stephen or to play a game piece on
the queen’s chessboard?

Munn frowned, annoyed the faerie hadn’t confided the
identity of the woman in play. Thinking hard, something he hated to do, he
pressed fingers against his temples and concentrated.
A lass dressed as a
lad, seemingly like Lady Laurie
. He scratched his chin. Ah! She must be the
one.

Sporting a huge grin, Munn rushed through the maze of
tunnels in search of Stephen, only to be sucked into one of the internal
chambers against his will. How dare the annoying faerie? He spun until his rage
petered out and he landed on his rump on the cold stone floor at her feet.

“Are you finished?” Caitrina waited, eyebrows raised,
emerald gaze filled with scorn.

He clenched his fists. He hated that look.

“I ken who is to be matched with Stephen.” Munn stood,
puffed out his chest, and brushed dust from his garments. “’Tis the lass from
the wood. Aye?”

Caitrina flicked auburn locks over a shoulder and smiled
impishly.

Uh-oh! He was in trouble. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes.
One moment he stared at Caitrina in all her fae beauty and the next a hag
dressed in gray. However, the emerald eyes remained the same. Filled with
malice.

“I cannot allow you to get in my way.” With a snap of
slender fingers, she sent him traveling sideways through a void in time and
space.

* * *

Jillian shut her mouth with a snap. The audacity of the man.

But, whoa! He possessed the firmest, masculine backside
she’d ever seen in the flesh. Her hands had itched to squeeze the rounded
butt-cheeks before he disappeared into yet another tunnel. She touched several
fingers to her burning face, confused emotions battling for dominance—anger,
lust, sympathy.

“What happened to him?” she blurted. “Never mind. I’m lost
and need to find the nearest phone so I can call my brother, or someone who can
help me get home.”

The women of the cave glanced from one to the other,
shrugged, and then stared at her as if she was crazy.

“We dinnae understand,” one woman said.

“What is a phone?” another asked.

A dizzy-sick feeling swamped Jillian.
They don’t know
what a phone is?
“Listen. I need to go home.”

“Dinnae fash. Our lad will take care of you,” the third
said.

“
Him?
” She pointed to the tunnel through which the
hunk of a man had disappeared.

The first woman grasped Jillian by the wrists and turned her
hands palms-up. “Tsk. Tsk. Your hands are torn raw.”

“The faerie pool will make them better,” said the second.

“But I need to find my way home,” Jillian persisted.

“Oh, aye, our lad will help you find your way,” said the
third.

Jillian’s head started to hurt. She hadn’t noticed earlier,
but the women had the exact same appearance as identical triplets. She shut her
eyes and rubbed aching temples. When she looked again, everything was blurry,
the three women blending into one.

“What the—” She shook her head.

Yup. There was only one woman and the children were gone.
The remaining woman lent an age-spotted hand to steady Jillian.

“Where did the others go?” Jillian asked.

“Others? Dinnae ken of what you speak. I am the only one
here.”

“But—”

“My sisters are busy elsewhere.” The woman’s emerald eyes
sparkled. Eyes that somehow seemed familiar.

Couldn’t be. Jillian inhaled a deep, steadying breath. Were
they playing games with her?

“Come. A soak in the pool will put things to rights.”

The woman led Jillian through the same tunnel the man had
taken, past several off-shoots, torches set in metal holders embedded in the
walls lit the way. The air became warmer and moist and the sound of running
water louder as they walked. Finally, the shaft opened to another chamber.

Wow!
A powerful waterfall plunged from a hole in the
stone ceiling at least seventy-five feet above their heads. Sunlight glistened
on wet walls and where the water cascaded into a subterranean pool that took up
most of the chamber.

“Bathe. ’Twill heal your hands.”

Jillian drew back. “Are you crazy? The water must be
freezing.”

“Nae. Hot water bubbles from the earth and the cold water
from the waterfall makes the pool perfect for bathing and healing what ails
you. ’Tis fae magic.”

Jillian’s hands stung like hell and the pool was inviting.
What would it hurt to soak for a bit? Perhaps daydream about the
hot
blond man.

She squatted near the edge and stuck a couple fingers into
the water—perfect temperature. “Okay.” She turned to face the woman, but the
woman had gone.

Somewhat unsettled, Jillian glanced around. Although light
came in from the hole in the ceiling, shadows played over most of the cave.
Where the illumination was strongest, toweling and a small jar with an ornate
bronze lid sat on a niche in the wall. She opened the lid, brought the jar to
her nose and sniffed. Heather blossoms. Must be soap.

She wasn’t making any headway in getting unlost, yet perhaps
she could spare a few minutes for a relaxing soak. She dropped her pack on the
floor and kicked off her bike shoes. Careful of her sore hands, she slid the
fleece leggings over her hips and stepped out of them. Then extending her arms
toward the ceiling in a needed stretch, slowly arched her back, and cracked her
spine while tugging off the fleece pullover. Dressed in bike shorts and a
t-shirt, she glanced at the water. She didn’t want to get her shorts and top
wet so she stripped to her bikini briefs and sports bra and folded her clothing
on the pack. Making quick work of braiding her hair, she used an elastic from
around her wrist to secure it then stepped into the water.
Nice
.

She carefully walked deeper into the pool, dragging bloodied
hands through the water. The stinging eased. Sand squished between her toes.
The pool deepened then became shallower as she walked toward the far wall,
covered in green moss and small plants. Finding a ledge, she sat. Water rose
over her breasts.
Ahh! Heaven
. With the warm water and gentle mist from
the waterfall soothing her nerves, she leaned back and relaxed.

She must have dozed. Something jolted her awake. She sensed
she wasn’t alone. A short distance away, water spilled over the edge of the
pool and trickled into a stream that ran under a stalactite curtain wall. No
one seemed to be there. She held still, sure someone was in the cave with her.

“Who’s there?”

Stephen held his breath, not moving a muscle. How could he
make his presence known without spooking the lass?

After the shock of seeing her in the chamber where he slept,
he’d rudely exposed his ugliness. Guilt tearing at him, he hurried as best he
could on his crutch to the falls. He’d hobbled deep into the pool, taking a
seat in the shadows, allowing the warm water to wash over his stiff shoulders.
The muscle aches and ever-gnawing pain in his leg lessened.

Time suspended, though he didn’t sleep. With a warrior’s
alertness, he sensed the moment she entered the chamber. Why would he feel such
a connection to this woman from the future? Like Lady Laurie, that’s who she
must be.

“I know you’re there. Show yourself.” Her voice trembled.

Loath to cause more distress, he slowly leaned forward, out
of the shadows, not far from where she sat. “I am here.”

She jerked her gaze to him, eyes wide.

“I did not wish to disturb you.”

“You saw me undress,” she accused, her sweet lips curving
into a comely scowl.

He held the urge to smile at bay. He’d enjoyed the show
immensely, especially the teasing stretch exposing the curve of her back, as
the erection he sported proved. The silky garments she wore over her breasts
and mound left little to the imagination. Her shapely hips lovely. Her skin
ivory perfection. The need to touch her almost more than he could endure.

He cleared his throat, hoping she wouldn’t hear the lust in
his voice. “I am sorry. I should have made my presence known, but I did not
want you to run off before the fae waters healed your hands.”

“I’m not afraid of you.”

“You should not be.”

“Well, I’m not.”

“Good.”

The silence became awkward. Stephen groped for something to
say. “You said your name is Jillian?”

“Yes.”

“Mine is Stephen. Stephen MacEwen.”

She smiled. More silence.

Of a sudden, Jillian jerked her feet up onto the shelf where
she sat. Wrapping arms tightly around her legs, she stared into the water with
a frown.

“What is wrong?” Stephen asked, sliding closer.

“Something brushed over my feet. Are their snakes in the
water?”

Her horrified expression made him chuckle. “Nae. Just wee
toothless fish.”

“Oh. Like the
garra rufa
that nibble away dead skin
from your feet when you get a fish pedicure at one of the fancy spas in
Asheville.”

“I dinnae ken about that, but the fish in this pool will not
hurt you.”

She dropped her feet deeper into the water and smiled.
“Tickles.”

“Aye. Does.” He sounded like the village idiot.

“I’m lost. The children told me the Gray Women would help me
find my way to a phone or to a town where I could call my brother, but they
keep disappearing. Do you know where I can go to make a call?”

“The women come and go. Mysteriously.”

“Why are you here?”

“To heal.”

“What happened?”

“Ach. ’Tis a long story.”

“You’re Scottish. Right? You sound a lot like my business
partner’s husband, Patrick MacLachlan. He’s originally from Scotland.” She shook
her head, making her braid bob. “Of course, you wouldn’t know him. Sorry. I
tend to ramble when I’m nervous.”

“I dinnae wish to make you uncomfortable.”
She kenned
Patrick!

She smiled, and Stephen had to rub an achy spot near his
heart. He didn’t ken whether it was because she affected him so or because she
kenned Patrick. He missed his cousin terribly.

“So? About a phone?” she persisted.

“Phone? Is that something of your future time?”

Her eyes narrowed, brow furrowed. The look clearly stated
she believed him simple in the head. He might strive to be underestimated by an
opponent in battle, but he didn’t like the lass thinking poorly of him.

“Never mind. Where are the children?” she asked before he
could defend himself.

“What children?”

She rolled her eyes the way some of the young lasses at
Castle Lachlan often did. “The ones who brought me here. They were in the other
chamber with us earlier.”

“I did not see any children.”

“You must have. After I fell in the old train tunnel…” She
frowned. “Falling into a well and waking lost in the woods doesn’t make sense.
I must have hit my head and wandered away from the bike trail,” she mumbled, as
if talking to herself. She ran a hand over her head. “No bumps.” Her frown
deepened, and she raised her gaze to him. “I was lost in the woods a couple
hours’ walk from here.”

“You did not travel from Strathlachlan?”

Jillian perked up. “Is that a nearby town?”

“Nae. ’Tis a distant village.”

“The children found me and led me here. Blaney and Mack and
Cam? Duff and Keita?”

“Ah. The changelings. The lost
bairns
who live in the
trees.”

“I don’t understand.”

“The villagers believe that sometimes faeries steal their
healthy children and replace them with misshapen changelings. The changelings
are later discarded in the forest. Left to fend for themselves or die.”

“That is beyond cruel.”

“We live in dangerous times. Those who are impaired perish.”
And if his leg didn’t heal, he’d prefer to perish rather than be a burden on
others. And if that thought wasn’t enough to deflate his cock—

“Wait a minute. There are all sorts of laws protecting
children.”

“Not in Scotland. Not in the year of our Lord 1513.”

The lass’s eyes rolled back, and she slid downward. He
grabbed hold of an arm and pulled her onto his lap before her head slipped
under the water. Now what was he to do?

“Lady Jillian, wake up.” He shook her. Her head lolled, but
then her eyes fluttered open, and she smiled. He was lost.

“What happened?” she asked.

“You swooned.”

“I don’t faint.”

“Of course not.”

The feel of her scantily clad bum against the bare skin of
his thighs brought him back to life, made his interest obvious. She blushed,
but stayed on his lap, smiling.
Grrr!