CHAPTER TWO
Scottish Highlands
–Sloan–
“’TIS NEARLY THE end of the morrow, MacLeod,” Laird Dugal Sutherland ground out.
He sat at the head of the table in the Sutherland’s private dining chamber, referring to my assurance of Willow arriving by tomorrow, or today as it were.
“And there is still no sign of Willow, whom ye promised would arrive by day’s end. ”
“And she will, m’laird,” I said smoothly, giving both him and Elspet, the evil woman who sat opposite her son, a look of reassurance. “I am quite sure of it.”
“Ye best be or we will seek out the last sister on the morrow,” Elspet bit out, her beady black eyes distrusting as she assessed me, “and the king will know ye didnae keep yer word.”
While tempted to remind them my exact words were that I expected Willow as early as the morrow, I refrained because it would only incite the two of them further.
Not that it took much. Ancient pacts or not, they were the most unreasonable people I had ever dealt with, yet here I was, having offered myself up to them, however hospitably I had been treated thus far, if it meant getting Hazel and Evan out safely.
At least that was part of the reason.
The other part I had no right to feel, given I was to marry another, but there was no helping it.
Despite how curt Willow was with me these days, the thought of seeing her again after so many years was impossible to refuse.
Not just that, but the idea of her ending up in Sutherland hands without me there watching over her terrified me more than I was willing to admit.
Willow might be strong, even tough as she would put it, but she was no match for Dugal and Elspet, nor their greed for power.
Either way, I was careful not to smile at the thought of seeing her again, but focused on the here and now because being granted one more night to await Willow's arrival at Sutherland Castle was a good thing. It was more than enough time for Willow to seek me out now Adlin MacLomain was involved, and she knew how serious this was. I wasn’t precisely sure how it would work, as I’d always been in the forest near a willow tree when she arrived.
Yet, I had faith that with Adlin’s help, we would find a way.
As it were, a mere night could become longer when Willow’s witchy magic combined with the power of her mother’s ring.
Neither of us had ever understood how it worked, only that when she visited, time seemed to slow down in the real world, as she called it, and she was right.
My mother would think I had been off romping around in the forest for a few hours hunting, yet it had truly been days.
“And I would fully expect ye to report my deception to the king if Willow doesnae show up, Elspet,” I replied to her dutifully when she threatened me with King Robert, not only my liege but a good friend.
“Just as I reported how kind and gracious ye were by letting Hazel go when she didnae wear the gem over her dragon's heart. More gracious still when ye let Evan go as well.” I nodded once at her in respect and thanks, hoping it appeared genuine despite loathing the two of them. “’Twas more than most would have done in yer position and King Robert will know that.”
“As he should,” she ground out tightly, clearly struggling to be civil. Her dark gaze homed in on Lilias, who sat across from me. “As to ye, daughter-by-marriage, ye will remain by yer husband’s side as he hunts for the mark if it decides to appear on anyone other than my son’s wrist.”
Lilias, as it turned out, was Willow’s half-sister, born to the same father as the rest of the girls, Malcolm Sutherland, before he was banished and made his way to the future, where he sired four more daughters with four different women.
With pretty features, light brown hair, and deep, olive-green, soulful eyes, Lilias possessed no dragon blood but was renowned for her mystical ability to communicate with animals.
It was also said she was the reason her father was banished from Clan Sutherland, so Dugal’s father could become chieftain.
To this day, we weren’t sure if it was true, but it was enough for us MacLeods to be cautious around her.
Though she had seemed trustworthy on Lucas and Hazel’s journey back to each other, we were still on guard.
Now she sat across from me, more often than not keeping her eyes downcast, yet I didn’t miss the way she glanced at me every so often, with a flash of hope she just as quickly masked.
She wanted her sisters to be free of this pact as much as we hoped in the end we could free her from the Sutherlands’ clutches.
As we ate and I continued being cordial and diplomatic, I did my best to keep my eyes off the four paintings hanging on the wall behind Lilias, supposedly created by the sisters’ father, Malcolm, and magically tethered in place.
More pointedly, keep my eyes off the weeping willow tree.
I would never forget the first time I encountered Willow's towering tree, standing apart from all the rest with its especially vibrant leaves and elegant branches. How graceful they had been twirling in an unseen wind, capturing my attention because it almost seemed otherworldly.
More than that, it beckoned me.
So, despite looking forward to going hunting, I had leaned against the tree and waited, certain someone important was coming. Looking back, it should have alarmed me, given the turbulent times we were living in, but instead, I was eager. Excited in a way I’d never been before.
Then Willow appeared as if she had walked out of the tree itself.
I might have only been a wee lad then, but something about the pretty little girl with her sun-kissed brown hair and luminous dark amber eyes called to me the moment our eyes connected.
And whatever that pull was, never let me go.
Despite how wounded I was when she left me because she couldn’t understand my obligation to marry whether I liked it or not, it was my duty, I still thought of Willow every day. Or, as she well knew, I tried speaking to her telepathically despite the centuries between us.
Now, I would see her again soon, or at least I hoped to, and yet I had no idea what to expect.
Would she bother speaking to me outside of curt, clipped words born of anger, bitterness, and now, obligation if it meant keeping her sisters safe?
As it were, she excelled at ignoring me nowadays if not tuning me out altogether, and I didn't blame her entirely.
I might have felt the same if I were in her position.
Fortunately, as the evening wore on, I was rarely engaged in conversation, and after dining, I was led back to my chamber by two guards.
Warriors ordered to remain outside my door for the night lest I do something foolish, as Dugal phrased it, and not honor my word.
To that end, I wasn’t entirely sure what to do next because I thought I would at least be allowed outside.
After that, it would only be a matter of Willow’s tree finding me.
So, what now?
I eyed what meager furnishings were in the room, my interest piqued by an old trunk set against the far wall. I couldn’t say why, either, until I saw a flash of an all too familiar ring sliding onto Willow’s delicate finger in my mind’s eye.
“’Tis the trunk, isn’t it?” I murmured, smiling.
I opened it and carefully rummaged around in the clothing, only to find a small dagger I knew Hazel had tucked in there when she was here last. A mystical Viking blade that tended to transform depending on where it was needed.
A blade that had made its way to us from Clan MacLomain’s Viking ancestors, and then from the Wolves of Ossary, one way or another, helping bring fated mates together and saving everyone from certain peril wherever in time it ended up.
Understanding what it would do, anticipation blew through me as I wrapped my hand around its hilt and stood, only for everything to swirl away.
Though the sensation was jarring, it was brief.
My feet were soon on solid ground again, and my torchlit chamber became a dark, cold night someplace else entirely.
Though not so dark that I couldn’t see the beautiful brunette standing in front of me.
Although it had been over a decade since I last laid eyes on Willow, I recognized her instantly, and she’d only grown more stunning.
Her luxurious mane of sun-kissed brown hair was pulled back, and she wore a black form-fitting aviator jacket, dark, fitted trousers, and heeled boots.
Tall and lithe, I had always thought her built like the tree she had been named after.
Elegant and willowy with just enough curves.
She stared at me for a moment, her gaze fixed on me, before she blinked, and her brow furrowed, her voice strained. “You’re only here so I can protect my sisters. Mainly Ellie.”
I had no chance to reply before she strode into what had to be the old colonial in twenty-first-century New Hampshire, without a backward glance.
“Welcome, Sloan,” Adlin said, drawing my attention his way with a rather merry smile given the circumstances and Willow’s icy reception. “’Tis good to see ye again. I cannae tell ye how pleased I am Willow’s Morrow magic still works.”
He introduced the lovely blonde who had been standing nearby, quietly assessing me and Willow. “Sloan, meet Willow’s sister, Ellowyn, or Ellie as everyone calls her. Named for the elm tree.”
“Nice to meet you, Sloan.” She moved with a gentle, almost graceful fluidity when she gestured at the door Willow had slammed shut behind her. “Please come inside so we can get to know each other and figure out what lies ahead for you two.”
“Nothing can lie ahead,” I forced myself to say because I had no choice. “I promised both my king and my late father I would honor my upcoming nuptials, and I will.”
“Of course you will, lad.” Adlin opened the door, encouraging me to join them as well. There was a quizzical, if not whimsical, look in his light blue eyes when he arched his eyebrows at me and cocked his head. “For it has been a verra long engagement, aye? Far longer than most marriage pacts.”
“It has,” I agreed, more grateful for it than I would admit lest I let my king and the memory of my father down. “I couldnae say why, either, other than ‘tis her wish and her father tends to dote on her more than most would.”
“’Tis not such a bad thing in our day and age, where too many fathers tend to look at their daughters as possessions who might gain them favor or wealth,” Adlin said, as I ducked into a relatively limited entryway clearly not designed for male dragons.
“Your lass Lorna is verra lucky in that regard.”
“She is,” I granted, keeping various other words I would use to describe her off my tongue, including opportunistic, vain, and greedy for an elevated standing in society.
All attributes that made me wonder why we were not already married, given that I would elevate her standing.
Yet, she continually put it off, claiming it would be best to wait until things settled at the Sassenach border so King Robert would have the time, and God willing, according to her, the inclination to attend our matrimony.
For surely, nothing would honor her and her kin more than the King of Scotland as our esteemed guest.
“Make yourself at home,” Ellie encouraged me with a soft smile, gesturing into the cozy living room with a fire crackling on the hearth. “If the hour doesn’t bother you, I’ll get some food and whisky, perhaps?”
“’Tis evening where I just was, so aye.” I offered her a cordial smile in return. “’Twould be much welcome, lass.”
Meanwhile, Willow stood in front of the fire with her arms crossed over her chest, eyeing me with a frown if not an outright scowl. One that matched her words when she made clear how things would go, and it cut me to the core.
More than that, it made me lose control of my inner beast.