Warrior’s Redemption (9 page)

“I was right all along. It’s all true, isn’t it?”

“What purpose?” Malcolm demanded, his voice drowning out her whisper. “By whose request?”

His words dissolved into an angry buzz that filled her ears even as the room around her darkened.

Be careful what you ask for, little girl, because you just might get it.

It was her aunt’s voice fluttering through her thoughts just before her knees gave way.

The color draining from her face was his first clue.

Malcolm sprinted the length of the table, taking Dani’s weight from Elesyria’s arms. Even as he lifted her against his chest, her eyes were beginning to flutter.

“My fault,” she murmured. “Sorry.”

“You’ve naught to apologize for, lass.”

It galled him no end that this confused young woman should be claiming responsibility for a situation clearly brought about by the old Faerie who even now stuffed her face at his table.

“How did she get here?” he demanded of Elesyria.

The annoying Faerie had the nerve to look irritated at his question.

“You already know the answer to that, Malcolm. My Goddess brought Dani to your time for your benefit. She even sent you the dreams that allowed you to
find her in the stone circle. She’s been brought here as a result of your actions and put into your keeping.”

There had been the dreams. He couldn’t deny that. But how could this be because of him? There was no reason, unless . . .

Punishment, perhaps? Punishment for his having failed to protect Elesyria’s daughter. Punishment for Isabella’s death.

The woman in his arms pushed her hands against his chest, pulling his thoughts back to the present. Reluctantly, he lowered her to her feet, keeping a hold on her elbows. Just in case. Though her color had returned, she seemed prone to swooning.

“Wait a minute.” Dani pulled her elbows from his grip and leaned her body toward Elesyria. “‘His time,’ you said. What’s that mean exactly? What time is this?”

Elesyria paused, her hand halfway to her mouth with another bite. “Twelve . . . ninety-two? Ninety-three? I have trouble keeping up with how you Mortals delineate time.”

“Twelve ninety-four,” Patrick interjected. “November, twelve ninety-four, to be precise.”

Dani paled again and Malcolm grabbed for her elbows, but she shoved his hands away, instead dropping down onto the seat she’d earlier occupied, her hands splayed open on her cheeks.

“Holy shit,” she breathed, turning her eyes on the Faerie. “Holy. Freaking. Shit. What were you people thinking? I can’t be here. I’m like seven hundred years away from where I belong.”

“Be that as it may. This is where you must be to
fulfill your purpose, my dear. That was what you wanted, wasn’t it?” Elesyria shrugged and popped another bite into her mouth. “
This
is where you belong.”

Malcolm flickered his gaze between the two women, feeling as if they shared some enormous secret that they were willfully withholding from him.

It didn’t matter. All that did matter was getting this woman back to her own home so he could turn his attention to all the other problems plaguing his life. It was time he took charge. Secret be damned.

“Who are her people? Where are they? She’s obviously no from around here.”

Dani snorted in a most unladylike fashion. “Give the man a blue ribbon for understatement of the year.”

He decided to ignore her nonsense, continuing to address his questions to Elesyria.

“Where is she from?”

“
When,
Malcolm, not
where
. Don’t be obtuse.
When
is she from,” the Faerie corrected, smiling up at him as if it were all some wonderful jest.

“When,” he repeated, having no clue what the woman meant.

“When!” Dani asserted. “Unbelievable. I wait fifteen years for these damned Faeries to pay the slightest bit of attention to me and then when they do, they send me seven hundred years into the past.”

“Into the—” Malcolm caught himself repeating her words and clamped his lips tightly together as understanding
washed over him. “Yer trying to tell me they’ve brought you here from the future?”

Dani gave him a look, her lips pursed and her eyebrows raised. “So it would appear.”

He sat down hard on the bench next to her, sparing a thought as to whether her tendency to swoon might not have transferred to him.

W
HY ARE WE
wasting our time doing this when Elesyria’s already told us it won’t work?”

The question had been circling around in Dani’s thoughts from the moment she and Malcolm had first mounted the horses on which they rode. The Faerie had told them that the Goddess had brought her here to serve out her purpose. That she belonged here, so there was no way she could go back home.

And yet, here they were, wrapped in woolens and furs, traipsing hours through the frigid wilderness, headed for a stone circle where Malcolm claimed to have found her.

“I canna claim for a fact that Elesyria speaks the truth. This is something I must try.”

“But she’s Faerie.”

“All the more reason to doubt her,” Malcolm muttered, lifting an arm to point toward the woods they were about to enter. “We’re very close now. Do you remember any of this? It’s just through these trees.”

Dani shook her head in answer. She had only a vague memory of awaking in this man’s arms and feeling frightened and very, very angry. As if in response,
a twinge of pain rippled through her right hand and another memory shimmered into being.

A memory of her drawing back her fist and connecting with his jaw.

Her gaze slid to his face, studying the strong chin covered in a day’s growth of beard. The shadow of whiskers was dark against his skin, but the stain of color beneath was unmistakable.

No wonder he was so anxious to be rid of her. He’d ridden all this way out into the middle of nowhere to save her life and what was her response? A little gratitude? A hearty “Thank you for not leaving me out here in the cold to die”? No, not her. She’d tried to clean his clock.

An apology would probably be in order. And she’d give it to him, too. Just as soon as she could figure out how to word it while leaving his male dignity intact. He didn’t strike her at all as a beta kind of guy who might not mind admitting a woman had bruised him.

Besides, riding single file through the trees staring at his horse’s rear end didn’t seem the appropriate time to give it a go even if she’d figured out how to approach him.

“Here.”

His announcement preceded her horse pulling around his, revealing the forest opening and the circle of stones.

“I do remember this.” It was like entering the scene of a recent dream.

“So do I,” he answered, stroking his fingers absently over his jawline.

There was her chance. The perfect moment to apologize. She opened her mouth but closed it again, letting the perfect moment slip away, feeling acutely unsure of herself as he dismounted and walked over to her side.

He lifted his arms to her, offering to help her down.

She considered refusing. The thought, along with a thousand others, flitted through her mind.

There was no real need for his help. It wasn’t like she hadn’t ridden before. She had. She’d practically grown up in a saddle, albeit one vastly different from the one on which she now sat.

Still, it was a long way to the ground, and she was hampered by the outrageous layers of clothing she wore. Not to mention that the chances were good he’d be insulted if she refused his assistance.

It was for those reasons only that she leaned into his grasp. Sound, logical, compelling reasons all.

Or so she tried to convince herself when his hands slipped under the fur and woolens to fasten around her waist.

Over and over, she repeated the reasons in her mind, like a litany dedicated to sanity.

His grip was warm and strong as he took her weight. Though no more than a second or two passed before her feet touched the ground, it felt as if time had slowed, dragging out those seconds, leaving her disoriented and a little breathless when he stepped away from her.

She’d never imagined getting down off a horse’s back could be such a sensual experience.

“We found you lying there in the center of the
stones, on that green bit. Like as no, that’s where you’ll need to do it.”

If this whole experience weren’t odd enough, the patch of greenery at the very center of all this dry brown would have drawn her attention without any urging from him. If there were any magic to be found in this circle, it certainly looked as though it should be there.

Not that she had any idea what the “it” was he expected of her.

“What exactly is it that you want me to do?” Did he think she had some magic ritual that would send her winging back where she belonged?

He shrugged and picked up the reins to lead his horse to the edge of the circle. “Whatever it was you did to get here. Do it again.”

“I didn’t
do
anything,” she muttered, as much to ease her conscience as to respond to his ridiculous directions.

She turned her back on him, trying hard to swish her skirts in a manner she hoped relayed her irritation as she moved into the circle of greenery.

“You must have done something. Yer here.”

A surreptitious glance in his direction found him walking the perimeter of the circle, seemingly studying the ground at his feet. He stepped into the woods and back into the circle before speaking again.

“What’s the last thing you remember before you woke up here? Describe it all for me.”

The last thing?

Somehow she didn’t think he’d consider constructing her own magical stone circle to be the “nothing” she claimed.

“Well, it was Halloween. Samhain,” she corrected when he cast a quizzical glance her direction. “Since everything I read indicated that was the easiest time to make contact with the Faerie Realm, I called out to the Faerie Queen.”

Something sounding suspiciously like a snort came from his direction.

“Yer first mistake, that. Most of us spend the entirety of our lives hoping to avoid the Magical Folk, no going out of our way to call down their attention, aye?”

Considering what had transpired, Dani was beginning to suspect the sensibility of his views.

It was her turn to shrug her response.

“That’s it then. Do that same again. Call on yer queen. Tell her to send you back to where you came from. Tell her there’s no a place for you here and none to watch over you so she must return you to yer home.”

Dani cleared her throat, stalling, wondering what on earth she could possibly say. Not that it mattered. It wasn’t Samhain, so the curtain between the worlds was thick and firmly closed. And, even if the queen did somehow hear her, it still wouldn’t matter.

Elesyria had been clear on the subject. The Goddess herself had decided this was where Dani belonged. And, novice though she might be at dealing
with Faeries, she was pretty sure a Goddess outranked a queen.

Still, if it made him feel any better about this . . .

“Can you hear me, Your Highness? You win. You sure showed me.” A tight, nervous twitter of laughter bubbled up from her throat. “So . . . you can send me home now. Okay?”

As silly as she’d felt standing alone in her little room calling on the Faeries, it was nothing compared to how preposterous she felt right now with Malcolm MacDowylt as her audience.

They waited, silence surrounding them in the circle, as if even the creatures of air and land held their breaths right along with them.

After several minutes, Malcolm broke the uncomfortable silence.

“Do it again. Perhaps she dinna hear you. Make sure to mention her mistake in putting you somewhere you dinna belong.”

As if telling the Faerie Queen she’d made a mistake was a smart thing? Maybe Malcolm didn’t know Faeries as well as he claimed.

Dani reined in the impulse to share that thought with Malcolm. As miserable as she was out here in the cold, standing around arguing would only delay things more.

“Send me back, please,” she called out to the forest. “To where I belong.” Not that where she’d come from had been where she belonged.

Again they waited, staring at one another in silence.

“Try something else.”

“Like what?” It wasn’t as if she had some magical
bag of tricks up her sleeve. “I don’t know anything else to do. That’s what I did before. I spoke to her. Out loud, just like now. And then all these little lights started flying around the room and that’s all I remember.”

Again they stared at one another across the clearing for fully a minute.

“If that’s all you did then, why do you suppose it’s no working this time?”

“Oh, let’s see.” She held up her hand, ticking off reasons on her fingers. “Maybe because it’s not Samhain, so she can’t hear me? Or because it was supposedly the Goddess who sent me here, not the queen? Or, like Elesyria said, because I’m supposed to be here?” Running out of reasons before she ran out of fingers, she crossed her arms in front of her. “I don’t know. You tell me, since you seem to think you know everything. Elesyria said it wouldn’t work. But you wouldn’t listen.”

What else could she say? It wasn’t going to work and they both should know it at this point. Only he seemed determined to keep at this exercise in futility, no matter how miserable it was out here, all because he wanted to be rid of her. That much was clear, and though she hated to admit it, even to herself, the knowledge stung. After a lifetime of not feeling like she belonged anywhere and years of waiting for the Faeries to send her where she did belong, not being wanted when she got there just plain hurt.

She pulled the woolen tighter around her, shivering for good measure. Not that she needed to pretend that one. It was so cold she was simply grateful it wasn’t snowing.

As if on cue, the first flake fluttered into the clearing, followed by a host of others.

“Perfect,” she groaned. “Just freaking perfect.”

Malcolm lifted a hand, pressing his fingers against the upper bridge of his nose, like a man with a vicious headache. She’d seen him do the same before and doubted he was even aware of telegraphing his frustration. When he dropped his hand, it was to gather up her horse’s reins and start toward the spot where she stood.