Just Wait For Me (Highland Gardens Book 3) (14 page)

“I am arresting Lady Jillian for practicing witchcraft.” The
sheriff locked gazes with the lady of the castle.

“Fine. You can post a guard outside her door.” Isobell gave
a quick nod to Aine, who curtsied and left the chamber, then the lady of the
castle grasped Jillian by the hand. “Come. You must be exhausted from your
travels.”

Jillian nodded and walked to the door with their hostess.
She glanced at Stephen as she passed. Worry lines marred her beloved face. Damn
Ciaran! Damn Ninian!

“I am ordering several men to guard her door,” the damned
man threw out, voice rising.

“Do as you wish. Just ensure the lads are quiet,” Isobell
serenely responded.

The women left the chamber, a couple of the sheriff’s
guardsmen following. Stephen nodded at Duncan, and the red-headed warrior
shadowed the others.

“I can’t believe you are taking this path, Ninian. You are
accusing Lady Jillian of witchcraft over a piece of cloth.”

“Stay out of my way or I will name you an accomplice.”

“You cannot be serious.”

“Heed my warning, MacEwen.”

“You have nae jurisdiction here.”

“I do until Archibald returns and he is far gone, chasing
Maclay.”

“Lady Isobell governs in his stead.”

“She will not wish to gainsay me.” Ninian shifted feet, his
gaze wavering.

Enough of this. The man was well known as a stubborn beast.
Stephen clenched his fists and vacated the chamber, leaving the idiot sheriff
to contemplate his navel. He stalked the passageway, but thought better of
joining Jillian in his chamber. Might complicate matters if the sheriff was
reminded of his affection for the lass. Instead, he headed to the armory,
intent on sharpening the blade of his claymore. A blade he was very tempted to
use on the pompous arse.

The emerald in the cross section glistened in the light from
many candles as he laid the sword on the work table. When they reached
Jillian’s future place, he’d have a matching betrothal ring commissioned for
her. He had to believe they’d straighten out this trouble with the sheriff and
travel together to the future. He had a sack of fine jewels—an inheritance of
such from his father—he’d been hording for a time. Patrick would surely assist
him in finding a quality jewelry maker. With sharpening stones and strop from a
nearby rack, he sat on a stool and went to work on scratches and nicks on the
blade.

Isobell sought him out as he finished and set aside the
strop. “You must take her away from here into hiding before it is too late.
There are two days until the full moon and, without fae intervention, it is the
only time to travel to the future.”

Stephen wrapped the sword in a rough pelt to make it less
noticeable as he skulked through the castle. “Must find the
bairns
then.”

“I am sorry. Aine mentioned they disappeared when the
sheriff arrived. I doubt you will find them within the castle or anywhere on
the grounds.”

Stephen frowned. Could this hell-spawned night get any
worse?

He strode from the armory. Even if they could prove her
innocent, he refused to see Jillian suffer the indignity of a witch trial.

Jillian paced the room, panic a breath away. She was well
aware of what they did to those accused of witchcraft in this time. And if
convicted…

Shivers wracked her body.

She tried the latch for the umpteenth time, but the door had
been bolted from the outside. Dammit to hell! She was truly trapped. Where was
Stephen?

She wanted him. Needed him.

Candlelight flickered over the muted colors of the dragon
tapestry on the wall.
Secret passageway?
Duff had joined them earlier by
way of a hidden corridor behind that wall hanging. Jillian grabbed a metal
holder with lit taper from the mantel and lifted the corner of the tapestry,
shining the light behind the textile. Nothing but gray stone. There must be an
entrance. Duff had definitely come from behind the tapestry.

As she’d once seen in an historical movie, she moved a hand
over the stones, digging fingertips into and around the edges, searching for a
trigger. About to give up, a metallic squeal stayed her hand. Several stones
rasped to the side, exposing a dark opening.
Thank you, God!

She glanced around Stephen’s room. She didn’t have a clue
how this
adventure
would play out, but it would be best to be prepared.
With haste, she changed into warmer clothes, tied the laces of the fur-lined
boots and wrapped the fur-lined cape around her shoulders, fastening the
braided frog near her throat. Prepared to escape the castle, she entered the
tunnel and, gripping the candleholder, waited until her eyes adjusted to the
dimness.

How to close the passage access? She ran tense fingers
around the edges of the stone that had previously opened the wall and then
several other stones in sequence. Nothing. Nothing but a gaping hole. Crap. She
was losing precious time, but she didn’t want the sheriff or anyone else,
excepting Stephen, to learn how she escaped and follow. Crap. Crap. Crap. She
had no way to get in touch with Stephen. How she wished they had cell phones.
Jillian tugged the tapestry into place as best she could and hoped it was
enough to hide her route from anyone who didn’t already know about the castle’s
secret passages.

With her first step along the corridor, a creepy sensation
whispered over her cheek. Cobwebs. Yuck. She shivered and brushed the silky
strands from her face and hair. She hated tight spaces. Might there be spiders?
Mice? Rats? A ghost or two? She swallowed uneasily.

Don’t get all girlie, Jillian
.

With one hand on the wall for balance, the other locked on
the candleholder, she made slow progress along the corridor, carefully placing
each foot as she plodded forward. At least, she hoped the sheriff didn’t know
about the hidden passageways. But really, if he had, he wouldn’t have allowed
her to remain in the bedchamber. Right?

A briny smell teased her nostrils as she navigated the tight
space. She fought a threatening sneeze, not wanting to give her position away,
in case others could hear through the stone walls. The tang became stronger
and, after several more steps, the passage split into three. Shit! Which way to
go? The tunnel to the right had the strongest scent of the sea. Perhaps it led
to the beach and freedom.

As she stepped in the new direction, a large body shoved her
sideways, pressing her against the damp wall. A hand clamped over her mouth as
another tightened on the wrist holding the candle.

“Dinnae fight me and dinnae scream.”

Fury radiated from Caitrina as she raced through the maze of
hidden passageways within Castle Lachlan, her essence embedded in a blistering
draft of air. Spiders and small creatures scurried to safety with her passing,
hiding within cracks in the mortar, not wishing to be burned by the sizzle and
spark.

She’d missed the arrival of the sheriff while taking a
leisurely bath, only to learn too late of his intent. The
bairns
had
gone into hiding. Jillian had disappeared from Stephen’s chamber. Stephen was
missing. What a mess.

And the impudence of Maclay to get in her way. He had told
Ciaran of the
woman from the future
. It only took a moment of rifling
through Jillian’s bedchamber in Dunoon for the lad to find evidence. Why had
she kept the damn space blanket with her? Dugaid’s effort to protect Jillian by
securing her backpack behind dark magic had been for naught.

The mere thought of the Dark Prince made Caitrina’s spirit
prickle with something more frightening than fear. She hated the attraction
suffered in Dugaid’s presence. ’Twas an intrusion into her feelings for
Douglas. Her human side preferring her human lover. Her fae side—

Her growl reverberated off the stone walls. She prayed to
Danu to never again cross paths with the Prince of Darkness.

If only foolish Jillian hadn’t hung onto the silver cloth
from the future, they wouldn’t be in this horrible mess. Flaming balls of fire!
’Twas too late to change things now. Caitrina whizzed around a corner and raced
along a straight away, sparks sputtering in her wake.

As for Maclay to have inspired the impressionable Ciaran to
seek out the sheriff and make accusations of witchcraft. She’d see Maclay paid
dearly for the interference. Just as soon as she made things right with Jillian
and Stephen. She had to win this last match against the queen. Losing was not
an option.

The fault that Jillian traveled through the time gate with
her backpack rested firmly on Caitrina’s shoulders. She’d gotten cocky with
each win. Jillian wasn’t only her business partner but a friend. She’d wanted
Jillian to have some sense of security upon finding herself transported to
another place and time. Have some of her own things. Big mistake. Caitrina
would make no more.

Hurling around another corner, her essence slammed into two
human bodies, fragmented, and rushed past Jillian and her captor.

* * *

“’Tis me. Stephen,” he whispered close to Jillian’s ear then
released the hold on her wrist, easing his hand away from her mouth, praying
she didn’t scream. She swirled to face him, her mouth agape. “We must move fast
before the sheriff learns of our attempt to escape.”

When she moved her mouth to speak, he pressed a finger to
her lips. “Say naught until we are clear of the castle.”

She gave an abrupt nod, lips pressed tight together. They
had only taken a couple of steps when an eerie howling echoed within the
tunnels. An unearthly heat scorched the air.

“What the devil—” Some unseen force smashed into Stephen,
pushing him back a step, forcing the breath from his lungs. Jillian seemed
similarly affected.

“Hurry.” He propelled her forward. Not waiting to determine
the source of the unearthly occurrence, they dashed over smooth stone, then
rough stone. Jillian’s small candle sputtered, barely lighting the way. Finally,
they came to the wooden door that opened onto the beach where the
currachs
were kept.

He pushed against the old wood. The door hesitated then
creaked, exposing only a wee gap. Shoving with his shoulder, using all his
might, produced snaps and pops and cracking sounds. With another heave, the
door flew open amidst flying debris from overgrowth. He inhaled a welcome
breath of tangy fresh air, the bay’s salty savor wetting his lips.

“I guess this door isn’t often used.” Jillian accepted his
assistance to climb through the remaining vines too tenacious to relinquish
their hold.

“Nae, there has seldom been a need.”

She grasped his sleeve, holding him in place. “What just
happened to us in there? I felt incredible heat and pressure.”

“I dinnae ken. Castle Lachlan is prone to unusual
occurrences. Fae activities. I try to ignore them.”

“Probably best.” Her skeptical expression made him doubt the
sincerity of the statement.

“We must hurry.” They ran to the water’s edge, and he
dragged one of the
currachs
into the surf, holding it secure at the edge
of the shingle for her to board.

“Where are the children?” Jillian asked as she clambered
over the gunwale.

“Gone.”

“We can’t leave without them.” She jumped back out of the
craft.

“We must.” Exasperation crept into his voice. “Get back in
the boat.”

“But—”

“Jillian, they have gone into hiding. Scooted into a
hidey-hole. There is nary a chance of finding them before the full moon without
being caught by the sheriff. We must leave now.”

Begrudgingly, she climbed into the boat and sat on the
bench, back stiff.

He joined her, secured his claymore, and took to the oars.
“Dinnae be angry with me.”

“I’m not. I’m angry with the sheriff.” He flinched at the
tears in her voice. “I promised to take them with us. I wanted Keita to…”

“I ken, but you must understand we cannot risk the time to
search for them. The sheriff will…” His voice trailed off. There was no point
in stating the obvious.

Jillian frowned and stared at the floorboards. A light fog
settled over the still night, wrapping around them. The only sound was their
heavy breathing and the lapping of oars drawn through the water.

“Shit!” Jillian cursed as they approached the mainland
beach. He followed her gaze to the shore they’d just left. Shite was right.
Although they couldn’t see through the accumulating fog the men who carried
bouncing torches marking their progression from the castle toward the beach,
’twas certain the sheriff had discovered their escape.

Stephen turned his attention to their small craft, and with
one massive tug on the oars, they hit the shallows. He hopped over the side
into the water and dragged the
currach
across the surface and onto the
shingle. Grasping Jillian’s hand, he assisted her over the side and together
they raced up the hill toward the stables. Halfway there, he stopped short.

His lady bumped into his back then gasped.

A red-haired woman, richly garbed in green velvet and fur,
sat a magnificent white steed with golden bridle and golden bells plaited in
its mane. The beast stomped a hoof and snorted steam from flared nostrils,
impatient for action. The lady murmured something in an ancient tongue and the
animal calmed.

A beauty that matched this woman had been described to him
enough times by Archie and Alexander Campbell for Stephen to ken the lady
wasn’t of this world. She was one of the
Sithichean
—a faerie. Two of the
fine horses the
bairns
of the wood had procured for him and Jillian—what
seemed like a lifetime ago—were held by reins grasped in the gloved hand of the
enigmatic woman.

“What the hell are you doing here, Caitrina?” Jillian
demanded.

Stephen scrunched his eyebrows. His lady seemed acquainted
with the fae woman. And more than displeased by her presence.

“There is nae time for chat. We must fly before the sheriff
arrives.”

She didn’t truly mean
fly
, did she? He hesitated, but
when Jillian hurried into action and mounted, he followed her lead, and
together they shadowed the woman at a gallop across the mist-shrouded moor.

The sound of men, horses, and tack carried a distance on the
humid air. Stephen urged the fleet horse to greater speed. Jillian kept pace.
The fine steeds outdistanced their pursuers. At the tree line they slowed.
Reining the horses onto a game trail, they rode deep into the wood.

“We need to find a hiding place to wait for the full moon,”
Stephen called to the fae woman.

She slowed—then halted. “There is nae need to wait. I will
see you through the portal.”

He and Jillian stopped beside her, Jillian guiding her horse
close to the other woman. “I don’t understand, Caitrina. How did you get here?
What do you have to do with all of this? Did you push me into that well?”

“We dinnae have time for explanations. Let us ride for the
Sithichean
Sluaigh
.”

Jillian’s forehead scrunched tight.

“Dinnae be dense, Jillian. The faerie knoll. The time gate.
The portal to take you home.”

“We can’t leave without the children.”

“You must.”

“But—”

The sound of hooves smacking the forest floor ended the
women’s debate. They encouraged the horses to a run and rode as if chased by a
banshee
—a
harbinger of death.

Jillian followed Caitrina and Stephen through the thickening
fog onto an unremarkable hill, but then everything changed. A fierce tingling
danced across her skin.
Magic
?

“Fae magic protects you.” With a wave of an arm, Caitrina
made an encircling motion, defining the perimeter of the hill where they stood.
“As long as you stay on this knoll, you are safe from the sheriff and his men.”

Jillian twirled around. The faerie hill seemed charmed,
brightly lit within a circle of thick mist. The grass at their feet was the
softest spring green. The air crisp and clean. Hundreds of miniature white
lights flickered around them, dazzling the senses. The lights sparkled in the
grass and up high in the branches of the single tree upon the hill like dancing
fireflies.

She imagined her expression matched the awe exposed on
Stephen’s face.

“Well, Isobell said she wanted my stay to be pleasurable.”
Jillian placed a palm on his chest, stepped into him and, filled with pleasant
thoughts of their earlier lovemaking, kissed a pair of fine lips then smiled
into his compelling eyes. “It certainly was that. And memorable? I’m afraid it
will be that, too, thanks to the sheriff.” She shot an angry look over his
shoulder at Caitrina. A faerie? Jillian could hardly believe her business
partner was a damn faerie. “Now, get us out of here, Caitrina.”

“No!” her business partner shouted. “Be gone!”

Jillian and Stephen startled. Caitrina stared toward the
edge of the knoll where a young woman stood holding a lantern high overhead.
Her angry face eerily gleamed in the amber light.

Stephen took a step forward. “Calyn?”

“How can you leave me swollen with your
bairn
,
Stephen MacEwen?” the woman cried, a protective hand splayed over an extended
belly. “I ken you plan to leave. I mourned you, believing you dead on the
battlefield. Grieved your death until my brother, Ciaran, returned with news
you lived and traveled with another woman. With that witch.” She pointed an
accusing finger at Jillian.

“What the hell?” Jillian jerked her gaze to Stephen’s and
stepped out of his reach. “Do you know her?”

He stiffened. A mud puddle stained moisture-filled blue
eyes.
Guilt
. How could she have been so misled? The pain in her chest
unbearable, she wrapped trembling arms around herself in a hug of
self-preservation. She’d almost rather die than be betrayed by the one she
loved.

Unable to bear his visage, she glanced off in the distance
and her heart thudded against her ribs. Keita and Duff were being held back by
Maclay.

Abruptly, the ground fell from beneath Jillian’s feet. She
dropped downward. Oh shit! Everything around her spun much as it had when she
fell into the well within the tunnel on the bike trail. She plummeted
down…down…down into darkness.