Page 22 of Farlan (Immortal Highlander Clan McKeran #3)

“You dinnae ken how much it cost my husband to ask this of you, my lord. You’ve no wife, and you shall need an heir. So, too, do we.” Tears rolled down the older woman’s face. “If you refuse me now my daughter shall be lost to us forever. I must implore you save my child.”

The heartbroken sound of her voice made Farlan ache for the woman. Yet she was only a part of the enchantment that held the clan here in the spell trap, for she had been murdered nine centuries past.

“How will she become lost, and why, Lady MacBren?” Ava asked. “Can’t you and your husband keep her safe?”

A shaking hand applied a lacy kerchief to mop up some tears before she answered.

“I dinnae ken all the details, but a powerful mage offered his aid to Turo when he first came to court. When the last mormaer died, the mage swayed the king to choose my husband as his successor. We simply thought him our friend, and that he wished naught in return, or Turo never would have accepted his support. Only the mage came and bid us to do the unthinkable. ”

“He asked for your daughter’s hand,” Tasgall said, and when she nodded, frowned. “Did he threaten Torra?”

Overcome by her tears, Lady MacBren sobbed into her kerchief.

Ava leaned closer to the laird and murmured, “The mage might be the one who cursed the clan, to keep you from marrying that girl.”

“Is this mage who threatened your daughter of mortal blood?” the laird asked. “Or does he call himself Fae?”

A faint mist filled the hall, passing around Lady MacBren, whose expression changed from beseeching to terrified.

For a moment her entire body seemed to waver, as if she were just an illusion.

A moment later she turned and ran out of the hall.

Tasgall and Ava followed after her, while Grace rose and went over to the table.

Instead of helping herself to the food and drink she braced herself against the edge and bowed her head.

In the sunlight from the windows she seemed to glow, Farlan thought, and yet her stance seemed almost helpless.

That mist, ’twas the same as what came in the night. It had already dissipated, however.

“My lady?” he said, hurrying over to her.

She wouldn’t look at him at first, but when he turned her to see her tear-streaked face, she released a wrenching sob. Grace then all but flung herself in his arms, weeping against his shoulder as if her heart were breaking.

“My lady, what’s gone amiss with you?” He sensed her going limp and swept her up in his arms. Against his flesh her skin seemed icy cold. “Grace?”

She clung to him, her fingers curling into his tunic, but she couldn’t seem to speak.

Farlan carried her out of the great hall and through the now-deserted kitchens to his work room. He tried to place her in the chair by the hearth so he could start a fire to warm her, but she refused to release him.

“Lass, if I’m to aid you, you must turn me loose,” he said gently.

She stiffened, and then wrenched away from him to totter backward. The way she looked around the room as if she didn’t know how she’d arrived here baffled him, as did the manner in which she wiped her face and then stared at her tear-wet fingers.

Farlan fought the urge to gather her into his arms again. “My lady, what made you weep? Permit me aid you with your troubles.”

“It’s nothing.” She turned her back on him and made a curt gesture with her hand. “Thank you, but I don’t need your help. You can go.”

She had lied, and then dismissed him as if he were no more than her servant, which made his seldom-stirred temper rise.

“What do you strive so to hide yourself from me, lass?” he asked her. “Mayhap you should say before I take your harsh words to heart.”

Her shoulders and back went rigid. “If you think I’m being cruel then I am sorry. It’s only sensible not to rely on others, and I can certainly look after myself.”

Now she was going to break his heart, Farlan thought as he walked up to her. “’Tis how you lived in the world beyond, aye?”

“I don’t want to talk about my past. I …don’t wish to talk.” As her voice softened she turned around and put her arms around his neck. “Kiss me, Farlan.”

Her sudden shift of tone and emotion made it seem as if she’d become another woman yet again.

He’d never encountered a female so changeable, although when he looked into her eyes he could see her desire, pure and true.

If she had been enchanted to seduce him by the bastart that had cursed the clan, he would have seen some sign of the spell.

Magic always made itself known when it overcame a mortal’s nature and force them to act against their will.

Farlan thought all this as the rush of his own longing for her flooded through him. Standing here with her in his arms, her body warm and yielding as it pressed to his, made his cock so stiff he wondered if it might rip through his trews.

“If I kiss you, mo ghrian , I shallnae again release you,” he told her.

“Nor shall I wait another moment for your answer. You shall be my lady here and now. Tonight I shall claim you as mine before the clan and our vassals at the binding ceremony. From this day forth you shall share my bed, and only mine, for ’tis the only bond with a man that you’ll ever want or need. Do you agree?”

Her lips curved into a lovely smile. “Yes.”

R ory sensed the movement of the odd magic outside the stronghold, but not within its chambers and passages.

Although he walked the bailey entire four times, he could not find or even sense a source from which to track it.

The faint traces in the air tasted to him of dark Fae and melia, which also confused him.

Their enchanted world had been created by a spell belonging to the Forest Fae, of that much he was certain.

What melia would trifle with an immortal from the very bowels of Elphyne ?

“I don’t like seeing you look worried,” a low voice said from an archway.

He didn’t have to force a smile as he regarded Ava Travars; of all those who had strayed into the spell trap she understood him best. The tall, raven-haired beauty resembled the first woman he had ever loved, which may have been why he suffered no carnal longing for his brother’s wife.

Indeed, he would do much to protect her for Tasgall’s sake, for she had brought the laird out of his hidden despair and given him hope again.

As for the rest… It seemed better to keep that from her.

“I shall try and present you with a happier countenance, my lady.” He glanced past her. “Doesnae the laird need you in the hall?”

“The MacBren’s wife is gone, so the time cycle event is over.” She walked out to join him, a basket of apples on her arm, and then nodded to a passing gardener. “Is there somewhere you and I can chat in private?”

He led her to a spot behind one of the free-standing towers where curious ears would not eavesdrop. There he plucked some small, starry white flowers and presented them to her.

“Honeysuckle.” He watched her bury her nose in the blooms and breathe in deeply. “Do you detect something in the air besides their sweetness?”

She met his gaze. “If it’s what smells like fresh moss growing on burnt metal, I have. Are you going to tell me what it is?”

“I’ve yet to discover such, my lady.” He hated that his experience with Fae magic remained so limited. “I cannae track what leaves the scent. It could be part of this place that a spell changed. Indeed, I reckon ’twas what caused the wall to collapse in the night.”

“We need to find it, then.” Ava tucked the flowers in her basket. “Keep searching for the source, and I’ll let Tas and Alec know you’re onto something. Why hasn’t anyone else noticed the stink yet?”

“We’ve sharp noses, you and I.” He knew his lie wouldn’t satisfy her, but to reveal the truth would do much worse. “You must take care to stay indoors for now, my lady. This thing hasnae yet come into the stronghold.”

“I’m not a kid, Rory,” she chided. “I’ll take the proper precautions.” She reached out and touched the side of his arm. “You’re very pale today. When was the last time you slept through the night?”

Another truth he could not tell her; she and his brothers yet thought him more like them than unalike. “Dinnae fret over me, Lady Ava. I’m no’ a wee goat. ”

She laughed out loud, and the infectious sound of her mirth made him grin. He had never had a sibling, but the laird’s wife had grown to be like the younger sister he’d always wanted.

“I’ll try to stop that.” Her easy smile warmed him, at least until she asked, “Why don’t you want to tell me why we have so much in common? Telling me again that I’m imagining it isn’t going to work, either.”

Of course she’d noticed his evasions and non-answers, for in her world she had studied people in order to effectively interrogate them. She’d also recognized him in the same manner he’d become aware of her from the first moment he’d seen her.

“You’ve managed enough grief for several lifetimes, my lady,” Rory murmured, still hoping he might persuade her to leave it alone. “Must I add to your tally?”

“If you want to remain my friend?” She nodded. “Besides, I have to persuade folks to do what they don’t want to all the time now. It’s good practice.”

The words came out easier than he’d expected.

“We share a mortal bloodline,” he told her, taking care to control his voice. “I sensed my kinship bond with you from the moment we met.”

“So that’s what it is.” Ava appeared unsurprised. “Why didn’t you say something before now? ”

“For a long time I didnae believe ’twas real.

My màthair claimed I was the last of her tribe.

Indeed, all my kin from her bloodline died long before I joined the clan.

” He would not tell her how they had met their demise, or why dying had been the only good thing his tribe had ever done.

“I cannae fathom why you share my mortal blood, for ’twould mean Chomha lied to me. ”

“Maybe she didn’t want you looking for our mutual kin.

” Her expression sobered. “I come from bad people, Rory. My folks were the worst kind of trailer park trash. Their kin all died young in terrible ways, or died old in prison. Not a one of them finished school or stayed on the right side of the law—not even my folks.”

He didn’t understand all her words, yet the dark look in her eyes reminded him so much of his màthair it nearly gutted him.

“Our bloodline came from a tribe called the Briseadh ,” he said slowly.

“Their natal tribes cast them out for their misdeeds, and they forged a bond in their desire for power. They hid from the world while they studied and practiced forbidden magics, and then became assassins, striking down those they regarded as enemies. I never lived among them, for my màthair ran away in order to save me. She said they wouldnae accept a half-Fae bairn. After my birth she feared they’d sacrifice me to their dark gods. ”

“All right, then we’re distantly related.” She frowned. “Why would that be a cause for concern? We both survived, and we’re good people.”

“’Tis more to our bloodline than our choices in how we live.

If I may?” he asked, reaching for her hand.

When she nodded he took hold of her fingers and lifted them up so she could see the dark violet shimmer of his power radiating out and engulfing her skin.

“The dark magic the Briseadh practiced changed their bodies over time. Those changes their progeny began to inherit rather than learn, until their power became a birthright to all those who shared their blood. ’Tis inescapable. ”

Ava caught her breath as a very faint evergreen aura appeared around her fingertips.

“Why are they different colors?” she asked, staring at the glow.

“I cannae tell you. Chomha, my màthair , died before she could teach me all I needed learn of our kin. So then did the tribe.” He released her hand. “You mustnae attempt to use your magic in any manner, my lady. Without proper training, ’twill backlash on you.”

“Wouldn’t want that now.” Ava met his gaze. “I’m guessing you also want me to keep quiet about this. ”

“Most of the clan fears me for my mortal weakness, and my ability to use magic,” Rory told her. “I never wished them to learn I share blood with those murderous druid bastarts. ’Twouldnae serve you to reveal such, either.”

Her brows rose. “Our bad people were druids?”

“Aye, my lady.” He pulled up his sleeve and unlaced the gauntlet he always wore, exposing the flesh beneath and the black, spiral-hilted scythe that his màthair inked on the inside of his forearm, to warn other druids to stay away from him. “The very worst of them.”

“My lady, Armorer Rory,” a man called.

Ava glanced at the stablemaster, her brows drawing together as the man nearly tripped over his feet running to meet them. “What’s wrong, Gilmat?”

He pointed with a shaking finger behind him. “My lads, they’ve all vanished. I left them spreading new straw and came back to find their work unfinished and their pitchforks fallen as if dropped. Yet when I asked Eachann and his gardeners if they saw them leave the stables, they told me no.”

“My lady, you should take Gilmat to report to the war master,” Rory said.

“That’s not happening.” Ava beckoned to a guard, and handed the stablemaster off to him with instructions to alert the laird as well as Alec about the missing hands. She then glanced at him. “You’re my bodyguard now. Watch both our backs.”

Since he knew arguing with her would prove useless, Rory followed her into the stables, where the scent of tainted melia magic grew stronger.

The laird’s wife waved a hand in front of her nose as she approached the spot where the two stable lads had been working, and crouched down to examine the dirt floor.

“These scratches and toe marks are too tiny to be from one of the dogs,” Ava said, and carefully picked up some straw to get a better look. “Whatever came here was small. Rat small.”

“We’ve no voles in the spell trap that I ken,” Rory admitted. “Mayhap ’tis another insect sent to bespell us—one that burrowed under the straw and lay in wait for the lads.”

An owl screeched overhead, startling them both.

“Or maybe it just flew in through a window like those ice beetles did,” the laird’s wife said. “Let’s go and talk to the wall watchers, and see if they’ve spotted any new bugs flying around the castle.”

As they came out of the barn, Darro intercepted them. “Armorer, my lady—you’re needed in the great hall at once.”