Page 12 of Taming the Highland Beauty

Gille lifted her charred and soot-covered gown over her head and set it aside, followed by her shift, hose, and moss-covered boots. The thought of soaking away the grime and soot in the heather-scented water was suddenly more than she could resist.

As the water flowed around her, wrapping her in its heat, a sob rose up inside her. For years she had been frightened, terrified even, to shed her cloak for even a few moments to bathe in the waters of the forest. Now, with Aria and the MacLeods nearby, she had let the garment go, no longer feeling like she needed such protection every moment of every day.

So much had changed in her life in just one afternoon. Weary from exhaustion, she leaned her head back against the copper tub, wanting nothing more than to simply exist in this moment. For as soon as she stepped from the water, reality—and the countdown to breaking her curse—would begin in earnest. For now, she had found a reprieve.

Chapter Five

The wind whispered across Lottie’s face as she stood on the rocky shore of Loch Dunvegan. The waves lapped at her bare feet as she gazed into the distance, where the horizon met the water. She felt it for the hundredth time—the ache, the emptiness—as if a part of herself had been torn away.

For eighteen years she had lived with the MacLeods. The first year had been anguish, but after that she had settled into her fate and learned to accept what had happened. Yet on days like today, the yearning was more than she could bear. It had been nearly two decades since Lady Janet had taken her pelt. That was not entirely truthful. It had been nearly two decades since Lottie had surrendered her pelt as penance for what she had done, leaving her stranded on land. Her children, once chubby-faced and curious, were now grown adults. Would they still remember her—their mother who vanished without a trace?

As Lottie lingered at the shoreline, the seals of Dunvegan came to her, their sleek silvery-grey bodies breaking the surface. They bobbed in the swells, their eyes filled with longing. A few of the seals still remembered her, recognised her scent, and pleaded silently for her return. But without her pelt she was bound to the land, unable to slip back into the sea and become one with the waves.

Lottie closed her eyes and tipped her head back, allowing the salt-scented air to flow across her cheeks. But today the air was unusually pungent, carrying the acrid scent of burning wood and leaves. Lottie opened her eyes and followed the coastline to her right where billowing black smoke hovered at the edge of the sea cliffs.

She tensed. A fire had started in the woodlands. Did the MacLeods know? She lifted her skirts and turned back towards the castle only to see Callum MacLeod coming across the beach.

“I am so glad I finally found you,” he said as he approached.

“The fire. Is anyone hurt?” She noted the streaks of soot on his face as he came closer. “Were you harmed in the fire?” She scanned Callum for signs of distress, and when she found none, her gaze clung to his face.

“I am unharmed,” he said in a calm, reassuring voice.

Lottie released a tight breath. Whether in seal or human form, she had always been a healer. It was the reason she had allowed Lady Janet to capture her pelt. She had come to heal the boy, and to try to heal Lady Janet’s husband who had injured his head in battle. Though Lottie had healed the laird’s wounds, she was never able to purge him of the erratic behaviour that followed. The man became cruel, suspicious of everyone, and transformed from a loving father and husband into a tyrant who would eventually kill his wife through neglect.

That Lottie could never completely cure the old laird, or save Lady Janet from her fate, was why she had stayed at Dunvegan even though she longed to return home. And when all the MacLeod boys, except Callum, left Dunvegan to pursue their interests, she had stayed for the young man before her. Through their shared pain and loneliness, she and Callum had forged a bond that was every bit as strong as that of mother and son.

“If no one is hurt, then why are you looking for me?” Lottie asked, confused. “What could be so important that you did not take a moment to cleanse yourself of this soot?” She reached up and tenderly ran her finger across his cheek, causing the ash to smudge against his skin.

He reached for her fingers and held them. “My mother said something strange, something I have never heard her say before. And it concerned me.” His gaze held both curiosity and fear.

“What was that?” Lottie asked, but she already knew. She had seen the pain in Lady Janet’s gaze earlier this morning. It was the same ache that haunted Lottie—the need to make amends before it was too late.

“Lady Janet alluded to the fact she had hurt you in some way.” Callum’s gaze narrowed. “I always knew, since I was a child, that there were secrets between the two of you. Perhaps it is time for you to tell me those secrets and let me help you both.”

“If only I could, Callum, but it is not my secret to share,” Lottie replied with a tender smile designed to reassure, but inside she once again felt the weight of Lady Janet’s actions. Her true family was beyond her reach, a distant memory at best. “It is your mother who must decide whether to reveal the truth or not.”

Callum’s fingers tightened on Lottie’s as he brought her hand down to settle between them. “Then let us go back to the castle and call Mother forth. There is no more room in our lives for secrets, not when Mother is about to fade away.”

Lottie hesitated as her heart wavered. For the first time in eighteen years, she might have a chance to recover her pelt if Lady Janet was truly filled with remorse. Her breath caught at the thought of freedom. To be a selkie was to belong to the sea—to dance with the tides and sing with her children once more. But she had lived another lifetime as well in the human realm. To remain human was to hold fragile moments in her hand—the taste of honeyed tea, and to feel the warmth of Callum, a second son’s hand wrapped around her own.

Perhaps she could choose both worlds, both families—to be both selkie and human. She drew a deep breath of the salt-ladened air, allowing it to fuel her spirit as she took a step towards the castle. “Let us find your mother.” For the first time in eighteen years, Lottie felt a glimmer of hope that her life might be something more.

*

An hour later, after Callum himself had bathed and changed his clothing, he sat in the great hall with Lottie, his mother, Pearl, and his brothers as they waited for Gille, Aria, and Gwendolyn to come down. Callum frowned at the empty doorway. What was keeping them? The hum of his family’s voices usually calmed him. This afternoon, it had no such effect.

It seemed that Mrs Honey had waited long enough for the women to arrive as well, as she signalled her maids to start serving the afternoon meal. Moments later, the savoury scent of roasted mutton filled the chamber. Callum stared down at the plate set before him. His favourite double-crusted meat pies, mashed turnips and gravy, and apple wedges. Yet he found he had no stomach for food. He wanted answers for Lottie’s sake and action for his mother’s.

He scraped his chair back, intending to go search for the missing fairy when suddenly Gwendolyn and Aria walked through the doorway, followed by a woman with familiar burnished red hair. But the beastly fairy he recalled from the forest was not the graceful young woman who entered the chamber.

Her wild tangle of red hair had been tamed and pulled away from her face, causing a cascade of curls to tumble across her shoulders and down her back. Her face had been scrubbed of soil and soot to reveal a peachy complexion that almost glowed. The jut of her forehead seemed less pronounced, and her nose seemed more rounded. Startling green eyes, the colour of the Cuillin hills in the springtime, gazed about the room with both curiosity and amusement. Her pupils seemed less dilated, less animalistic. And the dark green dress she wore highlighted a perfectly proportioned figure that had previously been hidden beneath the moss-covered cloak she had worn in the forest.

Callum shook his head, clearing his thoughts. Of course she would be lovely. After all, it was fairy blood that flowed through her veins. By the time she stood before him, he had recovered enough to motion towards the empty seat beside him. “Come, sit. Once you are done eating, we will see what can be done to help my mother.”

“Thank you,” she said, taking the seat with all the refinement of a great lady.

Aria sat across the table beside Pearl. The three fae or part-fae women next to and across from Callum could not have been more different. Where Aria’s skin was fair like clouds reflected in the waters of a clear summer brook, Gille’s was rosy and warm like the colours of the leaves in the fall. And Pearl was much like her name—radiant despite her age, with a youthful pinkish tint to her cheeks.