Page 35 of Taming the Highland Beauty

Her brows came together. “Nay.”

“Ho-ro-veel-a-vok, bone and flesh of me. Ho-ro-veel-a-vok, blood and pith of me,” he sang as he played the haunting melody. “Skin like falling snow, green thy mail coat. Live thy steeds be, dauntless thy following.”

All conversation halted as those gathered listened to the story of a fairy in a green kirtle who came to Dunvegan to quiet the laird’s half-fae child. Gille closed her eyes and listened, as her hair danced about her face in the afternoon breeze.

As the melody continued, Gille frowned, fighting to connect the sounds she heard with something that had been locked in her brain. The wind gusted just then, and she felt a brush against her shoulder. She opened her eyes, to see only Callum and the others. When the last note faded, a memory surfaced. “That melody.” She hummed what Callum had just played. “It is similar—nay, it is the same tune—as the song of the selkies. How can that be?”

Callum put down his mandolin. “Are you certain?”

“Aye.” Excitement flared in her eyes. “All we need from the selkies are the words, and we will be able to break my curse and free your mother.”

Eager to get started in their search for the moonstone, they quickly cleaned up the remains of their meal. The search party broke into groups of two and dispersed in different directions, each taking tools with them. Gille and Callum began their search along the rim of the peak, seeking a rock that exhibited a milky, bluish lustre that appeared to float just below the surface of the stone. The reflected light would only exist in the presence of other light, so it was important to make the most of the waning daylight.

They moved across the rocky terrain, seeking anything that shimmered, but only finding plenty of dark-coloured basalt. Before frustration set in, Callum grabbed the pickaxe he had brought and started digging into the rock, hoping to find what had so far remained hidden.

*

The rhythmic sound of the axe biting into the rocky soil echoed all around her as Gille knelt on the ground, out of striking range. She separated the rock Callum had worked loose with her hands. She knew she should focus on the rocks sifting through her fingers, but instead she lifted her gaze to see Callum had removed his shirt and unpinned the tail of his tartan so that it hung down around his legs. She should look away but found she could not. He was bare to the waist, his bronzed back tapering to narrow hips. His arms and shoulders rippled with thick, bunched muscles as he swung the pickaxe in graceful arcs.

Gille had never seen a man’s bare arms before, let alone an entire naked male torso. The sight sent her heart racing even as it brought heat to her cheeks.

He looked up then and caught her staring. His pickaxe thudded heavily against the ground. Her breath caught at the raw desire she read in his eyes. His expression held the same hunger burning inside of her.

“I cannot think or breathe.” The words were a whisper and a promise as he came to her side. He took her hand in his as he led her over the summit, until they were out of sight. Then his hands were at her waist, kneading her flesh through the soft fabric of her gown.

The heat of his body reached out to her, claiming her. “Kiss me,” she said, as he cradled her in his arms and did as she asked. When their lips finally parted, they were both breathing hard. Warmth crept up Gille’s throat and across her breast as something inside her began to tighten and ache. “We should get back to the search.” She tried to pull away but could not find the strength.

“One more kiss,” Callum replied as his hands moved up her back, pulling her closer before he caught her lips with his once more.

She sighed with pleasure and closed her eyes, relishing the feel of such delicious and little-known sensations. The kiss went on, spun out, and she almost gave herself over to it, until the memory of why they had come to this place returned. She broke the kiss, and stepped back, away from temptation. Her breathing came in ragged gasps as though she had run up the hillside once more. “Callum.” Her tone was as ragged as her breath. “We must continue our search.”

His breathing matched her own. “My apologies.” His smile filled with the same pleasure they had exchanged moments before. “You are just so enchanting.” Then his smile faded, and tension once again descended over his face “That is odd,” he said, moving past her towards what looked to be a cave in the side of the peak.

Callum entered the darkness then came back to the opening. “This cave goes on for quite a way, I think.” His smile returned; this time it was filled with hope.

He reached out his hand. Gille hesitated for a moment, her heart pounding in her chest. Then, with a deep breath, she accepted it, allowing him to draw her into the opening. Inside, darkness surrounded them, but Callum dropped her hand and withdrew something from his sporran. A scraping noise sounded, then a flare of light illuminated the rock around them.

“A flint and candle?” she asked, amazed he had thought to pack such. The wax would give them an hour, perhaps a little longer to explore the cave.

“The last few years have taught me to be prepared for anything.” Their voices echoed in the cavernous space. He held the candle out, illuminating the rock beside them. Flecks of silver caught the light and flared. Gille gasped at the sight. Perhaps a moonstone would do the same.

They pressed deeper into the space, until they came to a large, open chamber. In the centre of the chamber, bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, was a shimmering stone.

Gille’s eyes widened in disbelief. It was a moonstone, more beautiful and radiant than she had ever imagined. She reached out to touch the clam-sized stone, but as her hand neared the stone, a sudden gust of wind swept through the chamber, extinguishing the candle.

The cave was plunged into darkness, and a chilling silence descended. Gille could hear the distant rumble of the waves and the mournful howl of the wind. She felt a deep sense of unease as Callum fumbled with the flint and stone, trying to reignite the candle. Suddenly, Gille knew they were not alone in the cave.

A faint glow began to emanate from the moonstone, illuminating the cave in an ethereal light. As the light grew brighter, a figure emerged from the shadows, her form indistinct at first, then her body shimmered with an otherworldly light.

Callum stopped trying to light the candle and drew his sword. “Halt!”

The woman ignored his warning as she stepped closer to Gille until the woman’s piercing blue eyes connected with her own. Instant recognition dawned. Titania, queen of the fairies, stood before them.

Gille gasped at the sight. Titania’s delicate features seemed out of place in the ruggedness of the cave. She wore a gown woven from gossamer threads and adorned with vibrant flowers, and a crown of shimmering dewdrops adorned her head. There was no malevolence in her slight stature, but the fairy queen had fooled Gille before, looking like an ethereal beauty when her magic had stung like a barb.

“Why are you here? What do you want?” Gille dropped into a defensive stance, ready to fight. She and Callum had found a moonstone, and she was ready to do whatever she must to make sure they left the cave with it. “Have you and Oberon not tortured me enough for one lifetime?”

“I never tortured you, Gille. I was playful, and perhaps unkind a time or two, but never vengeful like Oberon. I was, and am now, your ally.” Her gaze shifted to Callum then back again. “You have come for the moonstone,” she said, her voice echoing through the cave. “But it is not yours to take.”