Warrior’s Redemption (35 page)

But he had it now. And he had a powerful need to see her and share with her all that had happened in this room tonight.

M
ALCOLM KNEW THE
bedchamber was empty the moment he opened the door. Not a single candle burned, though, for a fact, there had not been time since he’d last stood in this chamber for them to have burned down. Someone had purposefully blown them out.

“Dani?”

He could feel she was gone. He called her name anyway. A useless gesture, but one he felt compelled to perform.

As useless as checking in her chamber. It too was empty.

He hit the hallway at a run, yelling for Patrick as he reached the main level.

“What in the name of the holy saints ails you, Laird Malcolm?” Janet’s head popped out of a doorway he’d just passed.

“Dani,” he began, his heart pounding in his chest. “Lady Danielle. She’s no in her chambers and I canna find her.”

“Come to think of it . . .” The old woman shook a finger in the air as if it helped her think. “Wee Joanie
mentioned having seen yer lady in the back halls. Headed outside, Joanie seemed to think.”

Outside.

Malcolm grabbed the old maid, kissing her forehead while she sputtered her protests, and then he ran for the back exit.

Once he stood in the silent night, he paused, trying to guess where she might have gone. What had she said just before he’d walked out the door? She’d declared her love, and there was something else, something odd he’d attributed to the strange things she was prone to saying. Something about how she would love him always.

No matter what. No matter when.

He heard the words in his memory with a whole new sense of understanding.

In spite of his claim that he’d send the MacKilyn away, she’d had faith in him that he’d do the right thing, the thing that was best for all of his people, rather than think only of himself. She was planning to return to her own time because she understood him better than he understood himself. What a fool he was. She’d all but outlined her plan to him, right down to the . . .

“Rowan tree,” he muttered aloud, already running. Pray Odin he wasn’t too late.

A glow hung over the bathhouse, as if someone had lit a thousand candles behind a curtain of green silk.

“Dani!” he yelled, pushing himself to run even harder until at last he reached the wall, vaulting up and
over rather than, rounding the building to where the entrance would be.

She stood by the rowan tree, one hand clutching its trunk, the other shielding her eyes. Not three feet in front of her a sphere of blinding green light pulsed and seethed, seemingly alive with a million flashing colors.

“Dani!” he called again. “Don’t do it, love. You belong here with me.”

She turned, surprise evident in her expression. Surprise that melted into resolve. “I can’t stay here, Malcolm. Not anymore.”

“Because you dinna love me enough to stay? Because yer no willing to risk what is to come?” He had to know.

“You’re such an idiot,” she yelled over the increasing hum of the pulsing sphere. “I can’t be here and watch you with someone else because I love you too much. My being here would be bad for everyone.” She took a step toward the sphere.

“If you go into that light, I’ll follow you. I swear it. I’ll no let you leave me.” He meant it. He wouldn’t lose her. He searched desperately for anything to change her mind. “I’ll follow because you’ve promised to picnic me another date in the spring.”

“I have to go. I can’t stand to see you with another woman and you can’t risk your people’s safety by refusing to marry. Just like you can’t go with me because your people need you. You know that all as well as I do.”

“Here’s something else I ken, love. The MacKilyn
has no interest in me as husband to his daughter. He wanted only safe lodging for himself and his traveling party while they rest before continuing on their journey to Perth.”

She reached out, once again clutching the tree. “Are you telling me the truth?”

“I am.” He shouted now to be heard. “What’s more, he told me he’d no want anyone from the House of MacDowylt to marry into his family. Doesn’t want us corrupting his bloodline.”

Behind Dani, the circle shimmered, increasing in size until it burst.

Malcolm ran forward, throwing his body over hers, pinning her to the ground to protect her from the shards of light that fell like sizzling rain all around them.

When the light show at last ended, he lifted his head, capturing her eyes with his. “Looks as though yer Magic vessel has deserted you. Yer mine now, love, stranded here with me for the rest of our days.”

“It didn’t desert me,” she assured, her fingers tracking softly over his cheek. “I sent it away. There’s nothing more I want in life than to be with you. I told you that before and I meant it.”

Malcolm rolled over onto his knees and helped Dani to sit up, unwilling to release her hand even as he remembered what had originally sent him to find her.

He reached into his pouch and pulled out the delicate jewel. “This belongs to you.”

Before he could place it on her hand, she pulled away from him, offering her other hand instead.

“I wore it on my right hand when it was a gift from my aunt. But as a gift from you, I’ll wear it on my left. A symbol of our love for one another.”

He slipped the ring on her finger and helped her to stand, pulling her close for a long kiss before they headed back to the warmth of the keep. Their keep. The home they would have together with her as his wife.

He had no illusions. Their trials weren’t over, and wouldn’t be until Torquil was dealt with and Christiana was safe. Still, Dani had helped him discover the most important lesson of all—to believe in himself. With his SoulMate at his side, he could accomplish anything. In her love he had found his true redemption.

Turn the page for a sneak peek at

by Melissa Mayhue

Coming soon from Pocket Star Books

P
ACIFIC
N
ORTHWEST

P
RESENT
D
AY

N
OTHING WAS AS
it should be here.

Not this place and certainly not him. Surrounded by this kind of natural beauty, no one should feel such an overwhelming sense of disappointment.

Chase Noble loosened the shoulder straps of his pack and dropped it to the ground before settling onto the bench overlooking Fairy Falls. He pulled a long swig from his Camelbak and stared into the cascading water.

If it weren’t for his unwavering faith in his father’s promise, he could easily believe he’d never find the spot he could call home. The one spot where he truly belonged. The one spot where his fate awaited him.

Foolishly, he had allowed himself to have such high hopes this time. Even the name had held promise. Every word his buddy Parker had spoken in describing this location had convinced him it would be the one he’d sought his whole life. Maybe it had been because Parker had spoken so lovingly of the place
he remembered from his childhood. Maybe it had been the shimmer of heat waves wafting up from the ground, lending a surreal haze to the moment. Or maybe it had been no more than the small dark patch of mud in the Kandahari dust, all that remained after they hoisted Parker’s lifeless body from the ground for their return trip to the outpost.

He’d known at that moment that he had to come here, just as surely as he’d known he wouldn’t sign on for another tour of duty.

Though he had no doubt he was intended for the life of a warrior, he hadn’t belonged in that faraway land any more than he belonged here.

Chase squinted up toward the sun dappling down through the canopy of trees, pausing before he took his next drink.

“You could make this easier, you know, Da. You could at least point me in the right direction. One small hint is not so much to ask after all these years.”

That his father wouldn’t answer didn’t stop Chase from speaking. He was used to it. His father rarely answered, and then only in whispered riddles that wafted to him on a breeze.

Having a full-blood Fae for a father had never been easy.

Patience.

The word settled over him even as the leaves rustled overhead.

“I’ve been patient, Da. It’s not like I’ve had any other choice. But now I feel as though . . .”

He let the thought linger on his tongue, not at all sure he could find the words to explain it even to himself. Lately it had felt as though he was running out of time, as if all his options had been used up and he stood at the edge of some vast precipice.

The vision was so strong; he could actually see himself taking that first step, soaring off into a blue sky of possibilities.

“Yeah right,” he muttered, leaning over to lift his pack onto the bench beside him.

He couldn’t help but picture his older sister’s face at that moment. If she were here, Destiny would be sternly warning him about the importance of keeping his feet planted firmly on the ground and his eyes focused on the future. It was a lecture his bossy sister had given him often before he’d taken off to find his own way in the world.

The thought of her had him smiling as he stood. It had been much too long since he’d seen his sisters.

Even in his memories of Destiny, she was correct. No more flights of fancy. For now, he needed to set some priorities and stick to them. First on the list, find a place to crash and get himself a job. His savings wouldn’t last forever. Maybe after that he’d make an effort to locate Destiny and Leah.

Soon.

The wind ruffled his hair as he hoisted his pack onto his back, the feeling so much as if it was his father’s fingers that he paused in his preparations to leave.

“Oh yeah?” he asked aloud, looking up toward the dark clouds billowing overhead. “How soon?”

Four fat raindrops plopped on his face, one after another, as if to tell him the conversation with his father was over.

He turned and headed back down the trail. No point in rushing now. The skies had already opened up, pelting down on him through the breaks in the foliage. As his mom used to say, he wasn’t made of sugar; he wouldn’t melt.

In spite of today’s failure, he felt better than he had in months. He had a plan and knew what he would do next. And best of all, though he still didn’t know where he belonged, half an hour on that mountain had restored his hope. Hope that he would find his spot in the world.

Soon.

N
ORTHERN
H
IGHLANDS
, S
COTLAND

1294

J
UST BECAUSE SHE
could never tell a lie certainly didn’t mean Christiana MacDowylt could never deceive. She’d become well practiced in the art of truthful deception. She’d been forced into it. The truth, the whole truth, would likely get her killed in moments like this.

She kept her eyes fixed on the retreating forms of her brothers and the women they protected as they disappeared into the forest, leaving her behind.

“I dinna want to leave without you.”
Her brother’s words echoed in her ears as if he had spoken them only seconds before.

It certainly wasn’t that she had wanted to remain behind. Staying was the only choice she had if they were all to survive. She knew it. The gift she had inherited through the blood of her ancestor, Odin, the dream visions that displayed the future, had shown it to her.

As always, the future had presented itself as multiple
paths, the inherent choices of the participants reflected in each. Two had been brighter than the others. On one pathway, she accompanied her brothers in their bid for her freedom. That pathway led to a bloody battle and the deaths of all.

On the second pathway, she remained behind.

There was no real choice to consider. Her freedom was a small price to pay for the lives of those she loved.

Besides, there was a radiant light beckoning to her down this pathway. A radiant light she’d been allowed to glimpse before. A radiant light that promised the freedom she sought and more. A face.
His
face.

If only she knew who he was or when he would come. But the Norns had not chosen to share that knowledge with her. Not yet.

Still, her brothers were on their way, headed toward the shelter of Castle MacGahan. Patrick, Malcolm along with his new wife, and the Elf upon whom so much now depended.

When no trace of her brothers’ party lingered, neither a hint of them through the trees nor a glimmer of sound from their escape, Christiana released the breath she had been holding. Their safety was assured.

For now, at least.

With only moments to ready herself before the warriors arrived, she scanned the grove of trees, erecting a series of mental barriers to shield herself from the carnage
where she stood. A deep breath to prepare herself sent the coppery tang of blood stinging up her nostrils.

Her half brother, her captor, Torquil of Katanes, mighty laird of the MacDowylt, and descendant of Odin, lay at her feet, lifeless.

Lifeless, but not dead.

A being as powerful as he could hardly be felled by so minor an item as the fork that protruded from his neck. Had the unlikely weapon been made from anything other than the wood of the Rowan, he would never have been felled.

Even in his current state, trapped in the middle world between life and death, the evil emanating from his soul permeated the clearing, hovering, lashing out with frenzied tendrils to find release. She felt it slither around her ankles even as it bathed in the carnage littering the clearing, snaking through the hacked and decapitated bodies of the men who had accompanied Torquil. Swarming along with the flies around the body of her youngest brother, Dermid. Sweet, cherubic, maddened Dermid, who had betrayed them all.

No! She could not allow what had happened in this grove to distract her from what was to come. When Torquil’s warriors reached them and revived her tormentor, she would need to be at her most vigilant.