Taming the Highland Beauty (Guardians of the Isles #7)

Chapter Two

T he next morning, Callum quietly left Dunvegan alone and entered the forest beyond it. He had left the castle before anyone else stirred to avoid his older brothers asking where he was going, and if they could accompany him. He was so tired of all of them treating him as if he needed a constant escort. Had they all forgotten the years he had spent at the castle, running the estate while they had been off at university and then fighting in the West Indies?

Callum’s hand drifted to the hilt of his sword at his hip and felt the weight of another at his back. He also carried a dagger against his thigh, and a sgian-dubh in his boot. He might be younger than his brothers, but he was highly skilled with a sword and ready to defend himself against whatever dangers might await him in the woodlands.

He stepped over the gnarled roots of towering trees that stretched towards the sky. Shafts of morning light pierced the thick canopy, dappling the moss-covered ground. The air smelled of damp earth with a hint of salt from open waters beyond Loch Dunvegan. He came to the forest today for one purpose: to find the fairy who lived here and bring her back to his home. His mother’s existence hung in the balance, and even though he didn’t like the fact he would be asking a fairy for help, Gille was his only hope.

As Callum ventured deeper, the forest around him came alive. Ferns brushed against his legs, rustling leaves overhead seemed to announce his arrival, and unseen creatures scurried away. He followed a narrow path, guided only by his desperation.

He could see no one, yet he sensed a presence. He pushed forward, heart pounding, until he reached a glade bathed in sunlight. The sensation of someone watching him sent a shiver across his flesh. “Who’s there?” he asked, standing perfectly still, listening for any sound to indicate the fairy’s presence. “I mean you no harm.”

There was no response, not even the slightest intake of breath.

All the same, Callum sensed Gille was close. He steeled himself for what he had to ask. “I have come to request your help. My mother is... dying.” The last word caught in his throat. It was not entirely the truth, for his mother was already dead. However, she was fading away and would soon be lost to them in a way that she had not been before her murder.

“Please.” His voice was raw. “I must have your help.”

The rustle of leaves sounded towards his left. He turned to see a creature rising from the forest floor covered in a cloak of moss-covered leather. She pushed back her hood to reveal red hair that reflected the morning light yet hid her features from him. Even so, he knew this was Aria’s sister, Gille.

“Why do you think I can help you? And why seek me out now when I have lived within walking distance of Dunvegan for the past year?”

He frowned. “Does no one come to see you? Not even Aria or your mother?”

Her emerald-green eyes held the weight of centuries. “The only ones who come are the villagers who want my magic for themselves.” Her gaze narrowed to slits. “Everyone wants something from me. Even you.” Her words carried as much hurt as anger.

He met her gaze, and his breath caught. Her pupils were dilated to an unnatural extent and devoid of any warmth, giving her a predatory appearance. “I will not lie to you. I had forgotten about you until yesterday.” She was not the same fairy he remembered. A hint of danger surrounded her and her rugged almost beastly appearance. Her hair was tangled, her skin streaked with dirt, and her features were somewhat distorted.

She turned her face away, hiding her emotions. “You have all been enjoying yourselves so much that you barely spared a thought for who was no longer among you.”

“The last year has not been an easy one, if that is what you think. The MacLeods have faced many dangers.”

When she turned back to face him, her expression was blank. “And I have had no difficulties at all, here in the woods all alone.”

“That is not what I meant.” Callum pressed his lips together. She would not make this easy on him. If he wanted her help, he would have to at least appear remorseful for not remembering about the fairy he only wanted to forget. “I apologise if we hurt you.” His words sounded sincere as he held her gaze.

She shrugged. “At least it was you who came today and not the villagers. They are getting more aggressive every time they come to search for me.”

His gaze dropped to the unusual cloak she wore. “You are very adept at concealing yourself.”

“Out of necessity.” She pulled her cloak tighter about her shoulders as silence settled between them.

Callum took a step forward. Despite her anger at being forgotten, he was determined to persuade the fairy to help his mother. “Do you remember my mother?”

She nodded, then tilted her head, assessing him. As her hair fell away from her face, he could finally see her features more clearly. Despite her beautiful eyes, her face was pale, her nose seemed flatter rather than rounded, her brow jutted forward slightly. As sisters, how could Aria be so ethereal and Gille be almost animalistic?

He shook off the thought. Her looks mattered not. It was her magic he needed. “Lady Janet needs your help. Aria and Pearl have both tried to stop her from fading away, but they were unsuccessful. Without your intervention, she will die.”

“Your mother is a ghost, and already dead. I cannot save her. You have wasted your time coming here.” Her voice was tight. “Go home and forget all about me again.”

Gille started to turn around, but Callum caught her arm. “My mother is fading away. Without your help she will be restlessly trapped in the spirit realm for all eternity.”

Gille jerked away from him, and her eyes narrowed once more. “I do not know if I even have magic any longer. Oberon has taken everything from me, why not that too?”

He frowned. “You mean you have never tried to escape these woods by using your magic?”

“If your mother remembers me, she should have also remembered that I am cursed. I cannot leave.”

“You can leave for a short time.” His frown deepened. “Why did you not try to come back to Dunvegan?”

Anger flashed in her eyes. “I... you know nothing about—” The anger in her eyes was replaced by a sudden flash of fear at the sound of leaves rustling in the distance. “I must go.” She pulled her hood up over her red hair and raced past him into the denser woodlands.

“Wait!” Callum sprinted after her. He usually had no trouble keeping up with his older brothers, but this woman was light on her feet, flying over the root buttresses that slowed him down as if they were no obstacle at all. She wove her way through the trees, gaining distance, until she somehow seemed to vanish.

Callum stopped, listening for any sound that might betray her location, but it was difficult to discern any other sounds above the noise of the footsteps coming towards him.

He turned back to see seven men dressed in dark-coloured breeches, muslin shirts, and waistcoats. It was not their simplistic dress that startled Callum, it was the torches, scythes, and pitchforks in their hands. “What are you doing in these woods?” Callum asked.

“’Tis none of yer business,” the older, grey-haired man in front, carrying the torch, replied.

“But it is my business since you are trespassing on Dunvegan lands.”

One of the men with a pitchfork and dark hair frowned. “Ye’ve nae right tae tell us where we can and cannot go in the woodlands near our village. We ’ave a right tae roam.” The man took a step forward and threateningly jabbed his pitchfork at Callum.

Callum avoided the tines as his hand moved to the hilt of his sword. “You have a right to roam, aye. But hunting the animals or destroying the woodlands is another thing entirely.”

“And who are ye to tell us what we can do?” a third man asked as he stepped forward beside the other two older men threatening Callum.

If Callum had not had older brothers, he might have been intimidated, but he was used to holding his ground as the youngest. “You do not remember me? I am Callum MacLeod. The stand-in laird until my brother’s recent return.”

All three men’s faces paled slightly. “It’s been a while since we’ve lived at the castle. Ye’ve changed. Yer—”

“Taller now,” one of the younger men, a redhead in the back, replied.

Another younger man next to the redhead narrowed his gaze on Callum. “None of the MacLeods come into these woods. Yer more of an ocean clan, ye are.”

“Not all of us are ocean people.” Callum lifted his chin and widened his stance, ready to fight if necessary. The odds were not in his favour, but he was certain he could take the first three older men down before the four younger ones charged him. “Go back to your village. No one need be injured today.”

The men laughed. “Lad, ye might be a MacLeod, but we outnumber ye,” the grey-haired man said, waving his torch. “Let us pass. Once we ’ave the fairy, we’ll leave the woodlands and nae return.”

“How do you even know a fairy lives here?” Callum asked, stalling as he considered his options. Alastair would not be pleased if Callum harmed any of his people.

“There’s a fairy, all right,” the dark-haired man in the front replied. “Saw ’er with me own eyes when she brought my lost daughter back tae the village.”

Callum quirked his brows. “If this supposed fairy saves your lost children, why would you want to harm her?”

“We don’t want tae harm her. We just want her magic tae better our lives,” the young redhead in the back said.

“If such a fairy does exist, then she cannot leave these woods for longer than seven days or she will turn into a tree and remain that way for all ages,” Callum informed them of the story his mother told him a short while ago.

The redhead’s features pinched. “I dinna know—”

“It matters not,” the grey-haired man interrupted, waving his torch. “If she dies, then another fairy will only replace her. Lots of fairies in these parts of the woods.”

“ If this fairy exists,” Callum said, “she is under the protection of the MacLeods, and the laird will be forced to retaliate if she is harmed in any way. He could very well strip you of your livelihood and force you from your homes.”

The weapons of the men in the back dipped and their faces became ashen. The front three held their ground. “Once we ’ave the fairy we’ll have nae need of the village. We can use ’er magic tae conjure up a fortune and leave Dunvegan behind. Now move out of our way,” the grey-haired man said.

Callum drew his sword. “You’ll have to fight me to move beyond this point.”

“Let’s go home,” the redhead said, placing his hand on the grey-haired man’s shoulder. “I don’t want tae kill the fairy or this MacLeod. There is too much at stake fer our families.”

The grey-haired man jerked away from the younger man’s touch. “Don’t be a sissy, Arran. We can take this lad, tie him up, get the fairy, and be on our way before Laird MacLeod knows what we’ve done.” His eyes narrowed to slits. “Let us pass, ’cuz we’ll ’ave that fairy one way or another.”

Callum steadied his sword in his hands, ready to strike whichever man advanced towards him. His breathing slowed, even as his heart pulsed in his ears, anticipating the battle to come. But with his next heartbeat, a whoosh sounded behind him. The tree branches near them swooped down, swatting at the villagers, knocking them to the ground. Their cries of distress sent the birds in the trees into flight.

Callum turned to see Gille behind him. With her cloak wrapped around her and her eyes blazing, she looked more like an avenging beast than a maligned fairy.

She held her hand out to him. “Come, Callum. We must flee. I’ll not have you sacrifice your life for me.”

Callum hesitated. “These men will only follow us.”

“I know where we can hide. Please, trust me,” she pleaded.

He sheathed his sword, and, taking her hand, allowed her to pull him deeper into the woodlands. He cast a glance behind him only to see the men rise. The four younger men in back turned and ran back towards Dunvegan village, but the older three gave chase. The woods around them echoed with the guttural roars of the three angry men.

Gille’s steps were as sure and swift as before. In moments, she put some distance between the two of them and the villagers as she wove her way around the trees into the thicker, darker part of the woods. The thought they might escape entered Callum’s mind until flickers of red pierced the darkness, growing in intensity with every heartbeat, casting grotesque shadows on the trees and the panicked animals fleeing all around them.

Gille’s steps slowed as she turned back to look. “They are setting fire to the forest.” Her voice was raw with fear.

The air, crisp moments ago, tasted thick with smoke as fire devoured the undergrowth. The enraged bellows of the village men mixed with the slow hissing of the flames, which quickly built to a roar. They could no longer hide. Every fallen log, every thicket, was now bathed in the flickering orange glow of the fire. The once vibrant forest was vanishing all around them, making hiding an impossible dream.

“We cannot stay here, Callum. We must go.” Gille squeezed his hand, her touch surprisingly strong.

“But if you leave—”

“If we do not leave, we will both die.” Tears streaked from her eyes, leaving twin trails in the soot now covering her face. The sound of pursuit faded as the crackling flames licked at the tree branches, consuming the canopy as they had the underbrush. Gille was right. They had to leave. It was their only hope for survival.

A splash of dappled light appeared ahead of them, between two trees. One path not yet consumed by the flames offered a sliver of hope. “There,” Callum said, leading the way towards the momentary haven. His lungs burned and his eyes stung as they broke between the trees to a steep, rocky incline. It promised a treacherous but perhaps a lifesaving path.

With a burst of energy, Callum pulled Gille through the trees only to find a near-vertical cliff on the opposite side, leading down to the rocky shore of Loch Dunvegan. He turned to Gille. “We must go down,” he rasped, his voice hoarse from the smoke. He was not certain if the villagers would follow. He knew from living at Dunvegan his entire life that the cliff was dangerous, but it was their only hope for escape.