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

Chapter Six

C allum straightened in the chair near Gille’s bed, arching his spine to rid it of stiffness. The movement did little to ease his discomfort after sitting immobile all night and into the next morning. He really should get up and walk around the chamber, but to do so might wake up the woman lying on the bed.

Gille’s sleep had been restless and fitful since Lottie had left her some hours before. Callum’s gaze wandered about the chamber, seeking something to distract him. He had been in the green bedroom before but had never noticed the paper on the walls was that of faintly drawn trees that had leafed out in the early spring. Would the delicate drawings bring her comfort, or remind her of the fate that awaited her?

Callum’s gaze drifted back to Gille. He was responsible for putting her in that bed. If he hadn’t been in such a hurry to save his mother, he might have taken time to think things through and find a safer way for Gille to uncover the reason Lady Janet was fading away.

But there was no going back. What’s done was done. All he could do now was hope Gille woke soon and that she sustained no lasting damage despite the streak of white that had appeared in her hair, a startling contrast in a sea of burnished red.

He frowned. Despite being a MacLeod, he’d had little exposure to the fae, except for his long-lost relative Aria. Though she was partially a MacLeod, she was also half-fae and so very different from the woman on the bed. Where Aria was steady, Gille was fiery and impatient. Where Aria was ethereal, Gille was earthy. Aria’s features were classic perfection. Gille’s were less so. She had visibly changed since her arrival several hours ago. Had leaving the forest somehow changed her looks? Or was Dunvegan having some sort of effect on her?

Callum continued his study of her. He noted that her oval face was too long, her cheekbones too high, her lips too well defined, and when she was awake her eyes too sharp and determined beneath her arched brows. Her features, taken individually, were all wrong, but fit together in perfect harmony to form a whole that was fascinating, compelling, and quite different from her half-sister’s. And while Aria’s body was supple and strong, Gille’s body—partially concealed beneath the covers—was far more delicate than he had imagined when hidden beneath her cloak.

The door opened softly behind him, and Callum turned to see Alastair and Orrick as they entered the room. “How is she?” Alastair asked.

“Look at her,” Callum whispered, tamping back a rush of emotion. When had he started caring about what happened to the fairy? “Gille is changed, but she is also broken, and it is all my fault. I asked her to try and help Mother.” It was not caring so much as it was guilt, he tried to tell himself.

“She is not dead,” Alastair said impatiently.

“What if she does not wake up?” Unsettled by his thoughts, Callum picked up the strands of white hair. “Something terrible happened in Mother’s mist.”

“She will awaken,” Alastair said, his tone less harsh. “Something similar happened to Gwendolyn. Gille will wake up. Give it time.”

Callum nodded as he released the silken white strands of her hair, letting them fall back against her cheek. “Let us hope that is before the seventh sunrise, or her life will be truly over.”

“About that,” Orrick said, coming to sit at the edge of the bed. “I might have found something hidden among the books in our library.”

“What did you find?” Callum asked, intrigued.

“A journal written by William MacLeod.” When Callum frowned, Orrick continued. “William was Iain Cair’s son, and the first MacLeod to be blessed with fairy blood.”

“That is not a blessing,” Callum remarked with a scowl.

“Of course it is. Our clan’s prosperity and good fortune have relied on the gift Pearl gave her first-born child: the Fairy Flag.”

Callum cast his brother a less than pleased glance. “What has the Fairy Flag got to do with Mother’s fading away and Gille being cursed by Oberon?”

“Everything. They are all linked, if William MacLeod is to be believed.” Orrick leaned forward. “He wrote that before Iain Cair fell in love with Pearl, that the MacLeods of Dunvegan enjoyed an unusual relationship with both the fae and selkie worlds. They were all united by the natural world that surrounded them. They each had their place. The Fae ruled Fairyland, the Selkies ruled the sea, and the MacLeods ruled their peaceful corner of the Isle of Skye. All that changed when William was born. His very existence started the first rift in the peace.

“Because of the magic that coursed through his veins, the human world now had fairy magic in it. And when Pearl was forced to leave her family and return to Fairyland, she caused the second rift by gifting the MacLeods with the Fairy Flag for protection and acting as a bridge between the human and fairy worlds.” Orrick’s gaze shifted between Alastair and Callum. “William suspected that each rift weakens all three worlds, leaving them open to corruption and a misuse of the powers each holds.”

“Another rift might have occurred when Oberon stole Keiran from his crib,” Alastair added. “It could also explain why Father was never the same after his head injury. Perhaps the corruption that William wrote of kept Father from healing.”

Orrick nodded. “And his instability was what led to him imprisoning Mother in the dungeon, ultimately leading to her death, and perhaps why she remains with us as a ghost.”

Callum shook his head. “That is a lot of supposition on both of your parts. Father did what he did because he was angry with Mother for protecting Aria and Pearl.”

Alastair sighed. “That is not how Mother saw the situation. She has explained to us in recent years that she protected all of us. Including Aria and Pearl, against a man who was no longer rational.”

Orrick held up his hand, cutting off the debate. “The past has already happened. We cannot change any of it, but we can allow it to inform the present.”

“Agreed,” Alastair said.

Reluctantly, Callum nodded. “If what you say has any truth behind it, then why is Mother fading away, and why did Oberon curse Gille?”

“I believe I know.” Gille’s voice was soft, broken.

All three men turned to see Gille’s lids flicker open. She had heard and understood at least part of their conversation. At the thought Callum’s heart soared. Perhaps Gille was not as badly injured as he had suspected. “How are you feeling?”

“Like my head is going to explode.” She swallowed roughly. “Dizzy.”

Callum wanted to reach for her fingers, to comfort her. Instead, he clutched his hands together. “You hit your head hard on the flagstone. We were worried—”

“Callum is trying to say that he is pleased you are awake,” Alastair cut in with a smile.

Gille tried to return Alastair’s smile, but flinched and brought her fingers to her brow, as though pressing against it might settle her dizziness. “How long have I been asleep?”

“Less than a day,” Callum replied, even though it had felt like forever.

“You were going to tell us why you think Oberon cursed you and why Lady Janet is fading from this world,” Orrick reminded her.

Gille struggled to sit, winced, then collapsed against her pillow once more. “Something Lady Janet did before she died is fracturing her memories. Those fractures are causing her to fade.” Her gaze returned to Callum’s. “Perhaps she created another rift like the ones you talked of earlier.”

“It is possible, but what could Mother have done to cause such trouble?” Orrick offered Alastair and Callum a pensive look that usually preceded him being lost in thought.

Callum swallowed hard, remembering his mother’s own confession that she had wronged Lottie. “I am positive it has something to do with Lottie.”

“I saw a memory of her running away from the healer into the woodlands,” Gille offered. “In the memory, they were both much younger.”

“God’s blood!” Orrick exclaimed. “It suddenly all makes sense.”

Alastair and Callum shared a confused look. “What makes sense?”

“It almost seems too fantastical to be real,” Orrick said, shaking his head as though still trying to work the puzzle out. “William wrote that only when all three worlds—fae, human, and selkie—had suffered a rift, would the harmony the MacLeods had long enjoyed begin to crumble.”

“What exactly are you saying, Orrick?” Alastair’s dark eyes held concern.

“Mother gave us the clue the other night when she told us the story of the selkie wife,” Orrick explained. “She somehow angered the selkie world.”

Gille gasped as her gaze flew to Callum’s. “That would explain the warning the large grey seal gave me when she almost overturned us in the water.” Gille’s voice was uneven. “The seal spoke to me in the same way your mother does. I could hear the seal’s thoughts.”

“I heard nothing,” Callum said with a frown.

“What did she say?” Orrick prompted, ignoring Callum.

“That the MacLeods always get what is coming to them.”

Silence settled over the chamber for several long moments before Callum stood, too restless to remain in his chair any longer. “Why did you hear this message, and I did not?”

Gille shrugged. “I am probably more in tune with nature, which is probably also why I was the only one of the three who stepped into your mother’s mist who was able to connect with her. Pearl and Aria were knocked out.”

“What happened when you did?” Callum asked, moving closer to Gille. “You said Mother’s memories are fracturing?”

“Aye. I truly believe that somehow weaving her memories back together will resolve any lingering attachments keeping her tethered to the human realm and perhaps by doing so, heal a rift or two.”

Callum gazed at Gille for a long moment. “You know how to do such a thing? Weave memories together?”

She remained quiet for so long that Callum thought she might not answer him when she said, “I am not certain, but I have helped to heal trees in the forest by weaving their injured parts back together with the morning dew. Perhaps that is at least worth trying.”

A muscle jerked in Callum’s jaw as his gaze moved to the shock of white in her red hair. “Would you have to reconnect with Mother’s incorporeal mist?”

“I believe so.”

Callum shook his head, and his gaze sought again the white streak in her hair. “It will most likely be dangerous to you. We could not ask that of you.”

“You asked me to help.” Gille perched on her elbows for a long moment before sitting up. “This is how I can help, Callum. And perhaps the next time I connect with her, I can determine if what Orrick said is true. If the fae, human, selkie, and spirit realms are all connected, then helping your mother might also help me.”

Still uncertain about putting Gille in danger again, Callum shifted his gaze to Alastair and Orrick.

“What do we have to lose?” Alastair said. “It is worth a try at least.”

Orrick turned to Gille. “If you are willing to take the chance...”

Gille’s fingers drifted up to the shock of white at her right temple and instead of fear, a smile lit her features with warmth. “If it means not changing my very nature in six more days, then it will be worth the risk.”

Callum gazed at Gille for a long while before he finally nodded. This fairy was difficult to understand. Only the day before Gille had been wild and untamed, with sharp edges and a driving will to survive. She still had the will to survive, which was why she had offered to connect with Lady Janet again despite the danger to herself.

But there was another side to this fairy woman that he had not noticed, or if he were honest, taken the time to see before now. She healed the animals and the trees in the world around her, and despite her desperate situation she could allow herself to smile. And her smile had been beautiful...