Just Wait For Me (Highland Gardens Book 3) (11 page)

Keita opened a door and, sure enough, it was to the room
Jillian had been in earlier.

“What was that all about?” she asked.

“Naught but a drunk. Dinnae worry about him.” The little
girl slid home a metal lock on the door. “Stephen said I can sleep with you.”

As much as she loved Keita, Jillian had wanted to sleep
alone with Stephen. Guess he had other plans. Her chest ached with
disappointment.

Castle Lachlan

Caitrina awoke to a slow awareness of sensation—the warmth
of the linen sheets from her body heat, the smooth velvet of the coverlet
against bare skin, and the plush feel of fur delighting sensitive fingers.

Oh, aye. She remembered. She’d traveled to Castle Lachlan,
arriving late during the night and had fallen asleep in Elspeth’s old
bedchamber, now used for those visitors of highest rank. To Caitrina’s mind,
that included her, as the daughter of an ancient
Sithichean
prince.

Dull light filtered through slots in the shuttered window,
marking dawn. She stretched languorously. A familiar smell tickled her nose.
She must have dreamt of Douglas and conjured his unique, masculine scent. An
ache at the core of her womanhood proved as much. She missed her human lover.
She could almost taste his satiny lips.

Urgh
. Caitrina rolled to the side seeking cooler
sheeting.

What is that?
Her fae hearing detected a subtle
sound, a swish of heavy fabric, soft as a breeze. She froze, pupils dilating,
fae vision adjusting to the dimness with speed. She wasn’t alone in the richly
appointed chamber. A large figure draped in a hooded cloak stepped back into
the shadows, impenetrable to even her gaze.

Why hadn’t she been aware of his entrance? How long had he
stood there, watching her, undetected? Was she losing her fae gifts? Couldn’t
be. She grew stronger with each day closer to achieving her goal.

She slid to a sitting position, dragging a fur pelt up to
her chin, as she’d slept nude beneath the covers. “You have me at a disadvantage,
sir, for I cannot see your face.”

The annoying man remained mute.

“Who are you?” she asked, more curious than frightened.

“I am known as the Prince of the Dark River.”
The Dark
Prince
. Oonagh’s son. His voice, of a spicy dialect that heightened sexual
desire, slipped over her defenses and coiled deep into her soul.

Her heart sputtered then raced—intrigued. Had his mother
sent him? Or might he be interested in a tryst with her?

“Why are you here?”

Dugaid stood frozen in place. Enthralled. First light cast a
gentle glow, enhancing Caitrina’s beauty. How had he forgotten the effect she
had on him? He’d been obsessed from the first time he’d seen her shortly after
her flowering.

One foot edged forward of its own volition to take a step
out of the darkness, but he curbed the desire to go to her. He didn’t want to
be recognized.

Dugaid drew the voluminous hood of his cloak farther over
his face, hiding his features.

He’d misled himself. Planned to punish her for recklessness.
Instead, he received the punishment. Desperate need gnawed at his insides,
hardened his loins. He inhaled sharply. The allure of her fae scent—peony and
freesia and sandalwood—almost had him tossing away caution and revealing his
secret.

Too soon. He must have her within his control first.

She rose from the bed, teasing him with luscious breasts
and…

The desire to bury his cock deep within her core made him
dizzy.

“Do you plan to stare at me all morning or will you answer
my question?” Caitrina inquired, tone sharp.

That acid voice snapped him out of the stupefaction
possessing him. He hardened himself against her allure. “Clothe yourself.”

“Dinnae growl at me. You are the intruder here.”

“Your father would be appalled by your whorish display.”

“I doubt that. And what do you ken of my father?” She
stepped toward him. With a wave of her fingertips, a gauzy green gown floated
over her curves, sparing him further distraction.

“’Tis of nae consequence at the moment.” He moved deeper
into the gloom. “Why are you allowing my mother to win?”

Caitrina’s eyes narrowed. “She is not winning.”

“Oh, but she might. Her last move placed your victory in
peril.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oonagh removed her protection from the lost
bairns
of the wood. Maclay had his filthy hands on Jillian’s things. And—”

She clutched his arm, and with a thought, he slipped a silk
mask over his face, ignoring the thrill from her touch. “I handled the matter,
but not before Maclay learned Jillian is from the future. Will not take him
long to deduce the secret of the
Sithichean Sluaigh
.”

Caitrina laughed. “Only centuries. And he will not live that
long.”

“You can only hope.”

She shrugged a graceful shoulder. “I am not worried.”

“You should be. Take care, Caitrina. As you ken, my mother
is a gifted adversary. Would be in your best interest to pay better attention
to the chess pieces in play on the board.”

“How dare you chastise me?” Her hands fisted. Emerald eyes
smoldered.

Overpowering lust hit him like a gut punch.

“Why do you wear a mask?” Caitrina asked. “Are you horribly
deformed?”

“Heed my warning, Caitrina!”

Dugaid faded into the vanishing before giving into a primal
desire and acting out his favorite fantasy with Caitrina bound to the bed by
faerie-spelled, silken scarves. One day soon, he’d make her beg for his touch.

Castle Dunoon

Jillian woke to chattering teeth.
Hers
. The room was
frickin’ freezing. Even with all the covers and the child burrowed against her
side, Jillian shivered. She missed Stephen’s warmth.

The barest amount of weak light filtered through the
shutters. Must be near dawn. She hated to get up, but someone needed to tend
the fire or they’d freeze to death.

She padded across the cold stone floor, hopping from bare
foot to bare foot. Cold drilled up her spine. A few embers still glowed. She
added tinder and kindling. After the tinder flashed and the kindling lit, she
added a piece of chopped hardwood from a stack near the hearth. She tugged on
wool stockings and boots, twirled a length of tartan over her shoulders, then
made a dreaded trip to the privy.

When she returned, Keita stood on the window seat, shutters
flung wide, staring out. The little girl turned and, after rubbing sleep from
her eyes, smiled brightly. “’Tis snowing.”

Jillian rushed over to look. Sure enough. Heavy snow fell. From
the amount of accumulation on the ground, it appeared as if it had been coming
down for a better part of the night.
Cripes
. There was little chance
they’d travel on to Castle Lachlan and the faerie knoll during a snowstorm.
More time lost.

A soft tapping on the door interrupted her perturbed
thoughts. She opened the oak panel to find the maid who’d escorted her
yesterday, carrying a tray. “I have brought something for you and the
bairn
to break yer fasts. A party of travelers arrived shortly before dawn with a
large contingent of fighting men. Sir Robert requests ye spend the morning in
yer chamber until everyone is settled.”

Jillian nodded, and the maid left the tray.

After donning her gown and eating, she paced, bored to tears
and getting more agitated by the moment. Just where was Stephen?

An hour or so later, the door pushed open, and Duff lurched
into the room carrying a flat wooden box, the lid checkered like a chessboard.

“Sir Robert gave me draughts. He said ’twould keep us out of
trouble.” Duff placed the box on the table between the two chairs and opened
the lid. The gold and black pieces stored inside looked somewhat like checkers.
“Do you ken how to play?”

“Sort of. I know the basics.”

“The board and pieces came all the way from the Continent,”
the boy enthused. “Sir Robert said Alexander Campbell brought it back when he
traveled to France on em-embassage for the king. The one that died in the
battle. The battle Stephen fought in.”

Keita perked up. “I want to play.”

“You are too wee.”

“Am not!”

“Are too.”

“How about we play girls against Duff?” Jillian jumped in
before the argument could escalate. Keita smiled and nodded.

“All right,” Duff agreed rather belligerently and dropped
into a chair.

“Which color do you want?” Jillian hid a smile and sat
across from him.

“Black, like the black leather the man wore who gave us your
garments.”

Jillian started to place the gold pieces on the red squares
in front of her. Duff didn’t seem to know what to do with his pieces so she
laid them out on his side.

“Now what?” Duff asked.

“Well, the objective of the game is for you to try to
capture all of my game pieces, or for me to capture all of yours, or for one of
us to force the other into a position where we are unable to move.”

“What about me?” Keita asked, bottom lip pushed forward in a
crooked pout. If only she could take the child to the future where a doctor
could fix her deformed mouth.

“Come here, sweet pea, and sit on my lap.” The little girl
climbed up, and Jillian gave her a gentle squeeze. “Duff, you go first since
you chose to play black.”

He moved a piece to a white square.

“Only the red squares are used. Move your game pieces
diagonally.”

“Why?”

“I don’t really know. It’s just the way the game is played.”

They played until the children grew bored—not very long—and
Jillian’s nerves wore thin. Duff discovered walls could be built with the game
pieces and then knocked down. The children were entertaining themselves thusly
when a heavy hand knocked on the chamber door.

Jillian raced to open it. Stephen stood on the threshold
looking more handsome than any man had a right. He’d bathed and wore clean
clothes, a fresh plaid draping his shoulder. Even with his hair still straggly
and in need of a cut and beard overlong, he made her stomach do somersaults. The
rugged appearance looked gorgeous on him. Sparkling blue eyes—

Damn him for being so desirable.

“Where the hell have you been?” Jillian snapped before she
could stop the angry question.

His eyes flared, then he chuckled. “Is that any way to treat
the man who came to fetch you for the midday meal? Sir Robert has requested we
dine with him and a few others in his private hall.”

“Of course. I’m sorry.” She was just disappointed he hadn’t
come sooner. “When will we be able to continue on to the time gate?”

He shushed her and taking her arm, ushered her back into the
room. He shut the door and leaned close to her ear. “I warned you the castle
walls have ears. Be careful of what you speak.”

His whispered breath teased her flesh and she shivered.
“Okay. When can we continue our journey?”

“On the morrow or day after. Not sure.”

Ugh. Possibly stuck here for a couple of days—she’d go stir
crazy.

He turned his attention to the children. “Duff, take Keita
to the kitchen for your meal by the back stair, and be wary of men roaming the
passageways.”

Duff inclined his head and grasped Keita by the hand.

Stephen weaved his arm through hers. “Shall we go, my lady?”

The smile in his blue eyes made her insides do a shimmy. She
allowed him to lead her, barely remembering to mark the route they took. They
crossed the great hall and stepped through a doorway into a smaller, more
ornately appointed inner hall, cushioned chairs at one end encircling an
inviting fire in the large hearth and a dining table at the other end, the room
obviously meant for entertaining important guests. Duncan was already seated at
the table, but no one else. Stephen sat her next to the big ginger teddy bear.

“I must leave you in Duncan’s care while I tend to a wee bit
of business.”

Jillian watched him leave. Where was he going? With whom was
he meeting? What was the purpose of his business? Did it involve her?

With an irritated sigh, she turned attention to Duncan. He
leaned back in the chair, arms crossed, a closed expression on his face. Not
the most approachable body language, but since they were alone perhaps a good
time to question him. She wanted to learn more about the children, and he might
be just the person to ask.

“So, Duncan, what do you know about where Duff and Keita and
the others they call changelings come from? What are their stories?”

A judging gaze zeroed in on her. “Why do you wish to ken?”

“I’m curious. And wondered if there might be a way to help
them.”

“Most people shun them for their deformities.”

“Well, I don’t.”

Duncan scowled, and she thought he wouldn’t say more.

“Each child holds a story of their own,” he said. “Poor
Keita was born with a deformed mouth. Her superstitious parents, howbeit,
believed a devious faerie came during the night and took their perfect wee
bairn
and replaced her with our deformed Keita. They left her in the wood. I dinnae
ken how she survived until now. I guess the older
bairns
somehow care
for the younger.”

“She has stolen my heart.”

“Aye, she is a sweet wee lass.” His expression softened, and
he spoke with affection. “Now superstitious folk see Cam as an abomination,
with his mismatched eyes of blue and brown, as if evil faeries or the devil
hisself cursed the lad. ’Tis believed by common folk that if his family kept
him, they would be cursed, too.”

“How unfair.” It shocked Jillian that people could cast out
their children when she wanted a child so badly to love. Wow. She’d not
admitted that before. Not to anyone. Not even to herself. She shifted in her
chair, unnerved by the unexpected realization.

“Unjust, but reality just the same,” Duncan said.

“What about Duff?” Jillian pressed. “He has no detectable
deformity. Just a long nose.”

“Duff’s is the saddest of the tales. As you said, he has nae
affliction except lacking the same appearance as his father and brothers.
Duff’s da, fearing his wife had lain with another, cast off the child before
others could see her sin in her son’s face.”

“Genetics doesn’t work that way.” Jillian scoffed, feeling
as if she’d choke on the indignation. “Not every child will look like their
father or siblings.”

Duncan glanced around the room, then lowered his voice.
“Dinnae ken of what you speak, but the lad’s appearance was enough to get him
banished to the wood. Many believe the Queen of the Fae helps the
bairns
survive. Another reason to fear them.”

“Why doesn’t anyone take them in? Why doesn’t your chief
protect them?”

“Ach. ’Tis difficult to explain.” Duncan scrubbed a hand
over his face. “The
bairns
are feral creatures, you ken? They dinnae
take well to domestication. They prefer to run wild.”

“But—”

“Duff and Keita are playing with you. One day you will wake,
and they will be gone, taking with them what they can carry.”

No. Jillian couldn’t believe that of the children.

“What about the others? Blaney and Mack? What are their stories?”

The sound of voices approaching the door kept Duncan from
responding.

Two men and a woman entered with Sir Robert and Stephen. The
most conservatively garbed of the men seated the flamboyant woman, whose red
velvet gown clashed with fiery-red hair. He then took the seat of honor for
himself. Sir Robert and a peacock of a man also sat.

Stephen stood at her side. He glanced at her with warning
before resting his gaze on the man at the head of the table. “Lord Campbell,
may I present Lady Jillian of the Irish Clan O’Donnell. She recently made the
crossing after visiting France and my MacLachlan kin. When her men and
traveling companion took ill, I offered my services as escort.”

“How gallant,” the woman twittered.

“Please, feel free to call me Alexander.” Lord Campbell gave
Jillian a devil-may-care grin. The woman at his side frowned before a brittle
smile curved her lips. He ignored her displeasure. “Then you have met our Lady
Elspeth and her husband, Finn?”

“Aye. I have.” Jillian attempted to sound like the others.
What sort of game did they play?
Intrigue
.

“Are they well?”

“Aye. Very.”

The brightly dressed man chortled. Lord Campbell shot him an
annoyed glance. “Where are my manners? Please let me present my companions.
“Lady Jonet Stewart and her brother, Ninian, Sheriff of Bute, and Keeper of
Rothesay Castle.”

“My pleasure.” Jillian inclined her head. Something
unsettled her about both men, but especially the sheriff. His black hair, swept
back in a tight queue, made his features appear hawk-like. A chill slid along
her spine when his dark gaze swept over her then narrowed in calculation.

Sir Robert cleared his throat. Alexander raised a hand and a
server appeared from the shadows of the room. Stephen squeezed her shoulder and
sat in the empty chair at her side. Wine was served in jeweled goblets and
bread passed round.

“Are you journeying to Castle Lachlan then?” Alexander
dipped a piece of bread in his wine. “The heavy snow has made travel
difficult.”

“Aye.” Stephen nodded. “I imagine it has. We wait for the
storm to pass.”

“Could be a couple of days.”

Jillian tensed, and Stephen patted her thigh under the
table. She appreciated the comforting gesture though she hated the thought of
being stuck here, playing this charade for much longer.

The remainder of dinner was a quiet affair with light
conversation. Although Jillian didn’t completely relax, she enjoyed the meal.
Afterward the small group gathered before the fire, and her skin prickled with
unease at the speculative glances directed her way by Lord Campbell and the
sheriff.

There was something unnerving about the way both men watched
her, making no effort to display discretion.

“You must be a good friend of our Lady Laurie,” Lord
Campbell said. “Your speech is much like hers, yet she is French and you Irish.
A conundrum to be sure. You must have spent much time together...” His eyebrows
rose, and he let the words trail off.

Stephen tensed. She wanted to clasp his hand, but feared
touching him would send the wrong message.

“Yes.” She attempted to appear serene, unaffected by the
direction of the conversation. “I’ve lived several years with…Lady Laurie and
her husband in France.”

“Quite.” Lord Campbell smiled, but his eyes remained hard.
“You ken there was a time I thought the lady a witch.”

“Lord Campbell, I—”

He raised a hand. “Please call me by my given name—
Alexander
.”

“Well—”

“I met Patrick’s wife once—a bewitching creature surely,”
the sheriff interrupted. “As are you, Lady Jillian.”

“Dinnae tease the woman,” Lady Jonet admonished. “You both
ken verra well there is nae such thing as a witch.”

“Of course there is not, my dear,” Alexander said. “Yet some
believe it true.”

No such thing as a witch
. Jillian shivered and
shifted her gaze from man to man to woman. Why did they study her so intently?