Page 45 of Only a Highlander Will Do

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Fiona brought the linen bedsheets to her chest, praying the action would keep her heart from shattering as she watched her husband gather his clothing. In the silence of the chamber all the joy and the sense of belonging she had felt since her arrival at Dunvegan Castle stuttered.

As he slipped his shirt over his head, the pain and numbness receded and anger took its place. Not anger at Tormod—anger over their inability to find peace or happiness in the lives they had been given.

“I must leave you now.” He pleated and fastened his tartan about himself, then secured his sword at his side. “There are a few more things I must settle before we leave.”

“Godspeed, Tormod.”

“Aye. And may he keep you also.” Placing a final kiss on her lips, Tormod left their bedchamber.

He was so ridden by his own inner turmoil that he did not see the terrible shudder that swept through Fiona’s body or the hands that twisted in the bed linens that were still warmed by the heat of his body.

Her husband might think he had no other option except to sacrifice himself in battle to stop their feud with the MacDonalds. But he was wrong.

Fiona pushed off the bed and strode to the armoire. She threw on a clean shift, then pulled the closest garment over her head. Taking another moment, she quickly brushed, then plaited her hair.

He had things to attend to before he left.

And so did she.

Chapter Seventeen

Fiona slipped silently out of the bedchamber and down the hallway. At the drawing room door she paused as her gaze caught on the Fairy Flag and the guard standing there. She could not use the flag to help save her husband and his men, but that did not mean she couldn’t gather whatever magic she could from it before she went to the gardens.

The guard’s eyes were upon her the moment she entered the chamber. “Greetings, good sir. Might I look upon the Fairy Flag for a moment?”

“Of course.” He nodded, allowing her to come closer to the pride of the MacLeods, but he remained nearby, doing his duty to keep the artifact safe even from those in the household.

Fiona stopped directly in front of the flag and studied the yellowed silk behind the glass. She’d never seen a talisman before, especially under glass. The flag must be extremely special to the MacLeods to preserve it in such a way. The small golden crosses had faded over the years, leaving only the embroidered red elf dots upon the fabric’s surface. The flag did not look magical. It looked tattered and somewhat ill-used by past generations, but it still held a place of honour in their family history and everyday lives. The Grey Lady had said Alastair would not use the flag’s magic to help him defeat the MacDonalds, and neither would she. She would find another way.

Even so, she stretched out her hand, allowing it to hover just above the glass, closed her eyes, and prayed. Whatever magic you contain, whatever link you have to the fairies and their legions, I call upon you now to help Alastair, Tormod, and Orrick free their sister from Alex MacDonald. Help bring her and all the MacLeods safely home.

Fiona opened her eyes and dropped her hand to her side. She turned to the guard and gave him a smile. “Thank you.”

He nodded. “Ye aren’t the only one who came her today tae do the same thing, milady. Faith in this flag’s abilities runs deep in our clan.”

His comments should have made her feel better. But all she felt was despair as she continued out of the chamber and down the stairs. Anything she did this evening to help protect the MacLeods would need her to have faith that it actually worked. A week ago, it had been so easy to believe in things she could not see when it was only her life and the lives of her father and servants who she asked for protection. So many more lives were involved, and the stakes were so much higher.

At the thought of her missing father and the destruction of her beloved home, Fiona’s steps faltered. No fairy magic had been with her at Ulster Castle when it had been destroyed, yet she still she believed the fairies would help her now. She was desperate to believe they would after years of decorating their fairy rings and leaving them shiny objects, the fairies owed her something in return. Recommitted to her task, Fiona continued down the stairs.

Reaching the open doorway of the castle, she saw that the front courtyard was filled with hundreds of men dressed for war in their clan tartans and armour, with swords and targes strapped to their sides and backs. She hesitated, watching from the shadows to determine if she could make it to the gates without being detected. That was when she realised these men were not preparing to leave, they were still in the process of arriving as they came over the drawbridge, then awaited orders for where to proceed with their horses for the night.

Stepping into the fray, it wasn’t difficult to stay to the edge of the chaos as she made her way to the gates and continued over the drawbridge. Free of the castle, she ran to the right, in the direction Tormod had showed her previously, until she was once more hidden amongst the greenery of the gardens. Twilight hovered over the land, painting the sky in streaks of yellow and pink. She had not thought she would feel so alone out here on her own, but she did. Every snap of a branch, rustle of leaves, or flutter of wings had her jumping, twisting to the left and right, imagining that any moment Alex MacDonald and his men would swoop in and capture her. This time she would only have herself to rely on. Tormod would not be there to keep her from harm.

Feeling more alone than ever, she desperately tried to force back her fears and focused on suppressing any sounds she produced as she moved deeper into the gardens.

Fiona studied the greenery as she went until she came to the Fairy Bridge with a stream of water flowing steadily below. The sound of the water calmed her as she continued on. At the entrance to the cave, she stopped and bent to retrieve the white pebble from her stocking. Holding it between her fingers, she gently returned it to the location from which she had taken it, then stepped back.

A lump lodged in her throat as she waited, wondering if something would happen when she brought back the pebble. When nothing did, she felt her shoulders relax and the tightness in her throat ease. She stared into the darkness of the cave before her when a sudden chill crept over her, causing her to wrap her arms about herself, warding it off. Would she ever be brave enough to enter the depths of the cave in search of the Fairy World?

Her belief in fairies had caused her to do many things in an effort to communicate with them, but she doubted she would ever be so bold as to walk into the unknown, alone. Instead, she closed her eyes once more and asked the fairies for help in bringing Rowena home safely, and with the coming conflict. If there really was such a thing as a fairy legion, she begged them to come and help Tormod and his brothers.

When she had nothing else to add to her request, she turned around and started back towards the castle. At the Fairy Bridge she paused and drew a relieved breath. Something inside her told her to look down. When she did, it was to see a small heart-shaped rock near her foot. Such an unusual shape to come from nature.

Fiona picked up the rock and held it tight as she turned her gaze back to the evening sky that had darkened, adding threads of purple and grey to the masterpiece overhead. As she followed the colours down to the water of the loch, another idea came to mind. If she believed in fairies, then why not the selkies Tormod had told her about at the Fairy Pools? There were hundreds of seals along the shores of the lochs. Perhaps one of them was a selkie and would hear her plea.

Changing course, she headed down to the shoreline. She stumbled a few times on the rocks and had to traverse the boggy shoreline by stepping from one rock to another until she stood at the shore of Loch Dunvegan. The darkening sky made it harder to see into the distance, but at her presence, a few larger lumps of darkness slipped from the jetty into the water, coming towards her.