CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Warm morning sunlight kissed Emily’s face, but she couldn’t shake a bone-deep chill.
Tevin broke away from the grasp of the warrior who’d held him back during the fight, and leapt into Emily’s open arms. She hugged him close and dropped her head to his soft curls.
The boy was so young. He shouldn’t have witnessed what just happened.
She shouldn’t have had to witness the bloody execution of two men.
Both condemned to death by Gregor’s weapons.
Had this been another attempt to prove himself to his father, to his chief, to his clan?
Emily could barely look at him. What he had done was barbaric. His world was violent and cruel. And his anger before the fight had been directed at her, when all she’d wanted was for him to remain safe. She couldn’t continue with their farce of a marriage. She couldn’t stay in this brutal land.
Astonished gasps from those surrounding her made Emily glance up.
A human-sized, green glow shimmered at the edge of the trees across the clearing from the cave.
Emily stared, mesmerized. As the luminescence faded, a tall willowy woman with fiery auburn hair appeared from within.
Her gauzy green gown was sashed with green and purple tartan fabric clasped at the shoulder with a gold brooch intricately crafted with thistle designs and amethyst gemstones.
A brooch Emily had seen on multiple occasions at the Whispering Pines Inn.
Ohmygod! Caitrina.
How did she get here?
Archie strode forward, Duncan and Gregor flanking him. They bowed before Caitrina as if she were royalty rather than a part owner of a garden center in Anderson Creek.
“’Tis grand to greet you again, my lady.” Archie kissed the tips of her fingers. “To what do we owe your visit?”
“Munn tells me the pixie clan is causing havoc again.”
“Aye. They brought Stephen’s bairn and Emily through the garden gate. Of what else they conjure, I dinnae ken.”
A small whirlwind of decaying forest debris spun into the clearing on a gust of wind. In a billow of aged leaves, the brownie appeared, landing on his rump in the dirt. He stood and brushed dust from his clothing.
“What ken you of these matters, Munn?” Archie asked.
“Marcail of the pixie clan uses pixie dust to keep Gregor enthralled.”
“That cannot be true,” Gregor said. “’Twas you who cast a spell on my wine the night of my wedding.”
With a shrug, Munn ignored the accusation. “And, the pixie, Fenella, has done the same to Emily.”
Emily gasped. Shocked by the revelation. She glared at Archie. “Is that how you acquired my agreement for the marriage?”
Munn gripped Tevin’s hand. “Come with me lad, the adults need time alone.”
“I was unaware of any of these trickeries,” Archie claimed.
“I don’t want to be married anymore, especially not to Gregor.”
Gregor’s pained gaze burned her. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but Archie shook his head, and her husband shut his mouth with a snap of his teeth.
“Before rash decisions are made, let me break the spells.” Caitrina waved her arms over her head in graceful movements while swaying her hips and chanting syllables with lots of the ch sound. When strung together, the words sounded like what Emily would expect of an ancient language.
The air around Gregor wavered and blurred. He exhaled a puff of mist with a release of his breath. Their gazes met and held. She couldn’t read his thoughts. Perhaps he felt disappointment. A moment later, she experienced the same phenomenon.
And, a kick of—regret.
Then her memory exploded…
“Oh, God! Kim.” Guilt swamped Emily. She crossed her arms over her chest and wrapped trembling hands over her sides in a tight self-hug.
How did I forget you, my love? Tears burned the back of her eyes.
She blinked them away. She refused to cry in front of all these people.
To have her despair witnessed by Gregor.
Archie hustled the other warriors away, leaving Emily alone with Caitrina and Gregor.
“Kim would not wish you to go on mourning him,” Caitrina whispered as she hugged Emily. “Do you want to go home, back to Anderson Creek, or do you wish to stay here in the past with Gregor?”
“Home I think. You can make that happen? Right?”
“Aye. I am a faerie with the ability to sift time.”
Gregor approached somewhat hesitantly. “Your home is with me, lass.”
“After all that has transpired?” Emily glanced to where the dead men had sprawled, but their bodies had been removed. She flicked her gaze back to Gregor “Everything between us was a lie.”
He flinched. “Please. Stay with me. I love you.”
Emily bit her lip. Isobell’s words from the morning of the wedding sliced through her thoughts. Isobell had regretted allowing anger to blind her to Archie’s love. And here, Emily was about to do the same with Gregor.
Did he really love her?
“Pixie dust cannot make you do something you dinnae want to do. It cannot override free will,” Caitrina said. “The powder only makes a soul more open to possibilities.”
How did Emily feel toward Gregor? Did she love him?
While she searched her mind and heart, at the edge of the woods, trees shifted and moved. A path opened. Caitrina guided them along the way to where vines were trembling. They moved of their own accord, slithering like snakes over a wall, unwrapping ancient gray stone, revealing a round gateway.
“This entrance to the nether was built by ancient Sithicheans and its magic will allow me to take you home. But you must hurry and decide, Emily, if you want to go back to Anderson Creek.”
“We were not given a fair chance,” Gregor said, his gaze imploring. “Please, find it in your heart to forgive me. Give us a second chance.”
“Would you be willing to come to the future with me?”
“He cannot travel to the future, Emily.” Caitrina shook her head. “His destiny is here in Scotland.”
“Where is my destiny?”
“That is for you to decide.”
Emily huffed out a long breath. Why was she the one required to leave behind the life she’d always known?
“If you decide to leave without me, I will find a way to come for you,” Gregor said. “She is not the only faerie in Scotland.”
“Dinnae be so disrespectful, lad,” Caitrina scolded.
“I will not let you or anyone else come between us.” Gregor glared at Caitrina.
Emily remembered Isobell’s claim that Archie had come for her in their darkest moment, and that Gregor would always come for Emily. Could that be true?
Would he risk everything, his future in Scotland and perhaps his life, to come for her? She didn’t want him to do that. He had a good life here. Her life in Anderson Creek was rather dull. Life would be an adventure, here in Scotland with Gregor. Could she handle staying in the past?
While she hemmed and hawed, the faerie—Emily still had a hard time thinking of Caitrina as such—tapped a satin-slippered foot with impatience.
“Time runs short.” Caitrina shoved Emily, and she hurled, face-first, through the stone gate.
“No,” Gregor barked and grabbed her forearm before she completely disappeared. He yanked her back through the gate and into his arms. “I cannot let you go.”
“I don’t want to go.” She twined her arms around his neck, and whisper kissed his lips. “I want to stay here with you. I love you.”
“So be it.” Caitrina didn’t smile, but her lips quivered as if she fought the urge.
Munn returned with Tevin.
Caitrina glared at the brownie. “Stop using spelled wine. You always mess up the magic.” She grasped the boy’s hand. “Come, Tevin.”
“I want to stay here with Emily,” he whined.
“Don’t you miss your mother and father?” Emily asked.
“Yeah, but I’ll miss you and Gregor, too.”
“We will think of you often, lad.” Gregor ruffled the boy’s hair the way Emily had a tendency to do.
“Okay,” Tevin said. “I’ll come back to visit Lach and hunt the orange dragon when I’m older. Tell Lach I said goodbye.”
The faerie and the little boy stepped through the gate and vanished.
Emily leaned into Gregor’s chest and kissed him hard on the mouth. His ardent response was a promise for their future together.
* * *
After the MacLachlan party buried the dead, mounted the horses, and rode homeward, Munn reappeared outside the cave. Marcail was where he suspected she’d be—inspecting the long-forgotten gateway to the nether Caitrina had exposed.
Munn’s hands fisted at his sides and he glared at the pixie. “The queen will be displeased to learn you have meddled in the love affair of one of her favored Highlanders.”
“Turned out for the best,” Marcail said. “Besides, helping fated lovers find their way to each other works well for Caitrina. She is betrothed to Dugaid. The handsome Prince of Darkness.”
The leader of the pixie clan exhaled a long, audible sigh.
Munn rolled his eyes. “You dinnae ken of what you speak.”
Marcail shrugged a delicate shoulder and flitted away as if without a care. As her flowery fae scent faded, a soft tee teehee hee whispered on the breeze.
Munn shook his head. One should never anger the Queen of the Fae. The foolish pixie remained unaware or uncaring of Oonagh’s predilection for vengeance. ’Twas a hazardous place to be.