CHAPTER ONE
August
Anderson Creek, North Carolina
“She’s been gone going on six years.”
As if he didn’t ken that fact.
Douglas paced across the display floor of the Celtic Image shop, his red and green MacKinnon kilt swaying with his stride, and flicked a glare at his business partner and best friend.
That is, if someone like him could have a best friend.
Five inches shorter than Douglas at six-foot-two and sporting one of the store’s cream-colored logo T-shirts, Finn MacIntyre stood behind the checkout counter with a slight smirk curving his lips, blue eyes crinkled at the edges.
Douglas ignored the urge to punch that damn golden-boy face.
An absolute contrast to Douglas’s dark features. Darker mood.
Finn sobered; ran a hand through his honey-colored hair. “Where do you think she is?”
“Somewhere in Scotland, I presume.” Ancient Scotland. Though he’d sensed a thread shift within the weave of time. Was she on the move?
“Why don’t you go after her?”
Finn’s question stopped his pacing. “You dinnae understand. Caitrina is—”
“I know exactly who and what she is. Remember, she nefariously meddled in my life, that of my cousin’s, and in countless others’ amongst our friends.”
“If you are referring to the matchmaking, it served you well.”
“Perhaps, but Caitrina shouldn’t have sent us to the past. Admittedly, I rushed through the time gate with my eyes open. The others, not so much. Caitrina was in the wrong. Are you sure you want to stay involved with her?”
Douglas darkened his glower. Thunder rumbled over the mountains behind the shop.
“You always attract an excess of female attention at the Highland games,” his buddy continued, ignoring the loud warning. “Since you’re fond of redheads, why not date that singer from the Scottish tribal band you like? What’s her name?”
“I will have Caitrina.”
“Primitive attitude,” Finn shot back.
More with the crashing of thunder and sky.
Finn sighed. “You’ve traveled to Scotland numerous times during the past six years. Why haven’t you found her? Brought her back?”
“’Tis complicated.”
“I’m sure it is.”
“You are not helping.”
The ringing of the shop’s phone stopped the discussion dead. Douglas met Finn’s questioning glance. He gave an abrupt nod, and Finn picked up the receiver. “Celtic Image shop. May I help you?” Finn’s eyes flared. “What?” He grinned. “We’ll be right over.” He hung up the phone.
“What is it?” Douglas asked.
“Some news of which you’ll be much interested.” Finn’s eyes glittered.
“Oh, stop with the suspense, will you?”
“Caitrina has returned with the missing Tevin.”
Douglas’s chest constricted. So that was why he’d been on edge all day. But why had he not sensed her return? Had the effort to maintain the shopkeeper glamour for so long dimmed his powers? The ramifications of such would be devastating.
“They are at Stephen and Jillian’s house,” Finn droned on.
“It turns out after the lad wandered onto the faerie knoll just beyond the garden gate at Foxgloves Garden Center a trio of pixies lured him through the time gate. Emily got caught up in the magic and they both ended up at Castle Lachlan in sixteenth century Scotland. Archibald and Isobell took them in. So all is well that ends well.”
“What of Emily?” Douglas finally managed to ask, even though he was more interested in Caitrina—his wayward faerie.
“Emily has decided to remain in Scotland past. Seems she married a MacLachlan warrior and is quite happy with him at Castle Lachlan.”
Douglas tightened his jaw, his true self appalled by the twinge of guilt that gnawed at his gut.
Still, as a man of the community, he should have gone back in time and seen to the protection of the wee lad and Emily after they were whisked away.
He was the only one amongst the inhabitants of Anderson Creek possessing the ability to sift time at will.
Other than Caitrina, that is.
With her in hiding these many years, he hadn’t believed she would get entangled with the manipulations of the mischievous Pixie Clan. Therefore, there had been no reason for him to get involved. Other than to be altruistic. Which his true self wasn’t.
Of recent, the tug and pull of his duality tore at him relentlessly.
“Coming?” Finn dragged Douglas from his ping-ponging thoughts. “My pickup is out front.”
“Nae. You go ahead. I will close the shop and follow afterward in my truck.” But not as Douglas.
* * *
“I can’t thank you enough for bringing Tevin back to us.”
Caitrina stiffened within Jillian’s hug of gratitude, uncomfortable with the intense emotions flooding her psyche.
One of which was guilt. If she’d been watching over the clan, as she should have been, instead of sulking in the hills of ancient Scotland, fuming about her involuntary betrothal to the Dark Prince, the Pixie Clan never would have been so bold as to whisk Jillian’s wee son, Tevin, and his babysitter, Emily, back through time.
Jillian kissed her cheek then returned to cuddling Tevin.
With hopes of quieting her mind, Caitrina stepped out of the crowded MacEwen log cabin and headed for Foxgloves, the garden center she owned with Jillian, and with Laurie MacLachlan. Aye, even hafling faerie princesses had human friends and business enterprises.
Garden clogs scuffing over the woodland trail, she took the short walk at a vigorous pace, glad she’d changed into a T-shirt and shorts. Perhaps she’d get her hands dirty puttering in the flower beds. That should make her feel better.
Only a handful of minutes passed before she entered through the front gate of the display garden and found the serenity she sought in the heady scents of an abundance of summer blooming plants. Bright pink Stargazer oriental lilies provided the most potent of the fragrances.
She dropped onto the concrete garden bench with an audible sigh. The joyous reunion of Tevin with his parents and the exuberant well-wishers had brought on a mind-numbing melancholy along with the guilt. She’d missed her friends during the six year self-imposed banishment.
All their friends from Anderson Creek were at the house to celebrate Tevin’s return. Except for one. Why hadn’t Douglas come?
He claimed to be in love with Caitrina. Okay, that was six years ago. Had he lost interest during her absence? Had he found someone new? Married?
Finn claimed to have informed him of her return. Said Douglas planned to drive over in his truck. But several hours had passed and the man was a no show.
Damn the man. She’d missed him terribly while she’d been gone.
Caitrina’s sensitive ears perked at a nearby rustle of leaves.
Someone approached from the rear of the garden.
Someone who smelled very much like a faerie.
A familiar faerie. Shite! Caitrina jumped to her feet.
Darted a panicked gaze from side to side.
Thought to fade into the vanishing. Shite, shite, shite! She wasn’t calm enough to disappear.
She needed to slow her heart rate. Concentrate. But how could she do that when she’d been thinking of Douglas. And now this…
Dugaid.
Stop it. She shouldn’t be so fretful. She was surely mistaken. He wouldn’t come to her on foot. Her betrothed wouldn’t lower himself to such a human mode of mobility. He would just appear in front of her from the nether and issue unreasonable demands.
To prove her initial instinct correct, Dugaid strode from the rhododendron trail in all his dark, masculine beauty, the black silk mask covering a portion of his face adding to his raw sex appeal.
Garbed in black leather, and with all manner of weaponry draping his powerful six-foot seven frame, no one could mistake him for any other than the Prince of the Black River.
The Son of the King and Queen of the Fae. The Dark Prince. Caitrina’s betrothed.
Hand clutched at her chest, she stepped back and bumped against the bench.
“Dinnae try to escape me, princess. ’Tis pointless.
” His dark voice…excited her. Her nipples pebbled and her sex pulsed with want.
Dammit to hell! He stopped in front of her, infringing on her personal space.
His captivating fae scent, the elemental smell of a violent storm, overpowered the fragrance of the garden, enticing her to kneel at his feet and beg his favor.
Caitrina held back. Torn. She reached up to touch a silken strand of his long black hair, but snatched her hand away, smothering the acute desire thrumming at her core. She must fight this inconvenient attraction. It was a betrayal of her love for Douglas.
Dugaid’s bulk loomed over her. Intimidated her. She stiffened her spine, raised her chin, looked through the slits in the mask, and into his challenging tiger-like gaze. His distinctive yellow eyes with black pupils flared.
“Why are you here?” she asked, although she kenned the reason.
“To collect what belongs to me.”
“I have naught of yours,” she countered.
He laughed. “Oh, but you do. You have everything I desire, my love.”
His arm snaked out and his large, callused hand encircled her wrist, thumb slowly circling over her racing pulse. He attempted to tame her? She couldn’t summon the vanishing. Panic burned in her belly. She was trapped.
“Let. Go. Of. Me,” she gritted, voice rising to punctuate each word.
“Never.” His grasp tightened.
“Take your hand off her.” A foolishly brave Finn MacIntyre stood several feet away with naught but a serrated garden knife in his hand.
“In time, you will come to me willingly, my love,” Dugaid whispered near her ear. He inhaled sharply, as if breathing in her very essence. “Until we meet again.”
With a brusque motion, he released his grip and turned to Finn. “I mean her nae harm.”
Then Dugaid faded into the vanishing.
“Who the hell was that?” Finn asked as he strode forward.
Caitrina shrugged a shoulder.
“One of your kind.” He stated the obvious.
She didn’t feel the need to respond.
Angry lightning zigzagged across an ominous sky. Thunder roared. The smell of ozone tinged the air.
Finn glanced up. Lines furrowed his forehead. “Sounds like we’re in for one hell of a storm.”
An understatement, if ever she’d heard one. Caitrina sank to the garden bench. She refused to shed a tear in front of Finn.
Dammit to hell. How was she to get out of the betrothal?