Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
“Is that all ye require then, mighty one?” Tanpip Berreg, steward of Wraith Tower, stood ready to fetch whatever else might be needed.
“That is all, Tanpip. I thank ye.” Mathison had requested the man oversee the gathering of what was required to contact Mairwen.
A scrying bowl, a pitcher of moon-blessed water, and an athame now sat on the table in the highest room of the tower.
He hoped Mairwen would heed this call since he had once been the leader of the Ninth Realm’s Defenders of the Highland Veil.
If she didn’t, he felt sure Calia wouldn’t rest until he relented and took her to Seven Cairns.
“See if the maids have finished with my wife. She is eager to see this task completed.”
Tanpip paused at the door as if waiting for additional orders, then tipped a single nod and left the room.
A man of few words, the steward was an owl shifter, once powerful in his own right until his conniving brother had seized control of the owl clan and exiled Tanpip to the dark tower of the north—Wraith Tower.
Mathison slowly circled the table, rubbing his hands together until his fingertips tingled with the old magic.
It had been a long while since he’d tapped into the power of the moon to assist him in any endeavor.
Even though it was daytime, the calling should still work because of the moon-blessed waters.
With the moon at the start of its waxing phase and not full again for nearly a fortnight, the waters would have to do in its place.
He doubted he could convince Calia to wait fourteen days to contact Mairwen.
A huff of amusement escaped him. His beloved mate had no patience whatsoever. He’d learned that about her last night when she’d chased the pinnacle of their passion with the unyielding hunger of a woman starved for another’s touch. He had delighted in her urgency.
Beloved mate? Did he love her already? Hard to say since he had never felt this way before. All he knew for certain was that he’d move heaven and earth to keep her at his side. A life without her had become more unthinkable with each passing moment.
The door to the tower room creaked and groaned, making him turn.
As soon as he beheld her, a fiery hot surge of possessiveness burned through him, turning his heart and regions much lower into a blazing inferno.
She’d been beautiful before, in the clothing of her time, but the word beautiful didn’t do her justice now.
Dressed in the rich colors of a lush woodland, her hazel eyes had taken on a more golden hue mixed with the soft, velvety greens of moss.
She carried herself like a queen, sweeping into the room with strength and grace.
Her dark, lustrous hair, long and unbound, made him smile.
She was a wild beastie who would never allow her maids to tame her wants when it came to her appearance.
Then he noticed her skirt, which wasn’t really a skirt at all.
He jerked a curt nod at the poorly disguised trews. “By whose order did Kernia do that?” As if he didn’t know.
She gave him a defiant smile and turned in a slow circle so he might get the full effect of her wardrobe’s modifications.
“I told her I’d never liked dresses, gowns, or skirts because they hinder movement and make me feel unsafe, but I also told her I understood why you didn’t like my jeans.
She came up with this on her own, and I appreciate her efforts. You leave her alone.”
“And who made ye feel unsafe here at Wraith Tower?” He would rip out their hearts and feed them to the unspeakable things living in the moat.
“No one here has made me feel unsafe.” She rolled her eyes, as if he were ridiculous to think such a thing. “But I might not always be here at Wraith Tower.”
His chest tightened sevenfold. “And what does that mean? Ye intend to leave me?”
She bowed her head and pinched the bridge of her nose, rubbing the inner corners of her eyes while obviously struggling for patience, composure, wisdom, or all three.
After a deep inhale and exhale, she dropped her hand and eyed him with enough compassion to ease the worry in his heart.
“When the weather permits, I would like to explore this version of Scotland.” She rested a hand over her heart, studying him with a pained yet affectionate look.
“I know very little about this fated mate bond, but what I do know tells me it would be unbearably hard to leave you. Most likely—impossible.” She patted her chest, drawing his gaze to the loveliness of her décolletage revealed by the temptingly low neckline of her waistcoat.
“My heart aches when I’m not with you, and as soon as I see you,”—she shrugged—“it soars.”
He opened his arms. “Come to me, mo chridhe. I hunger for the feel of ye in my arms.”
She flew into his embrace, just as starved for his touch. As she hugged in close, she tucked up under his chin and nuzzled kisses to his throat. “Will it always be this way between us?”
“I dinna ken, my treasure.” What he did know was that if they continued on this current course, the tower room would soon ring with the shouts of their loving. “All I know is now, and that is all I need to know.”
She hugged him tighter. “Live in the moment instead of worrying about what might be or what could have been. Wise advice.”
“But difficult advice. At least for yerself, aye?”
She shifted in his arms with another heavy sigh.
“I’m afraid so.” Ever so gently, she eased out of his arms and gave him an apologetic smile.
“I know you don’t understand why I need to confront Mairwen or try to reclaim a little bit of my life from my time.
And,”—she slowly shook her head—“I don’t fully understand it either.
All I know is that something in me needs to…
I don’t know…reconnect? Say goodbye?” Then her face fell.
“Maybe it’s because of Gillian, even though she’s not there anymore.
There’s just her grave back in Tennessee marked by a headstone shaped like a teddy bear.
But even though I moved halfway around the world to Scotland, I always knew I could go back and visit her. ”
“Gillian is wherever ye are,” he said softly, wishing he could take away her pain.
“She is in yer heart.” He prayed that her need to revisit her time wasn’t more than that.
Did she miss her things, or was there someone she cared about that she’d kept hidden from Mairwen and the Weavers?
He flattened his hand over her heart, then shifted it to his own. “She is with us now.”
She gave him a teary-eyed smile. “I wish she could’ve met you. She would’ve loved you and your wolf.”
“And Dubh and I love her because she sees us now. She is watching over ye. I swear it.”
Turning away, she sniffed and swiped a hand across her eyes. “So, how do you intend to contact Mairwen?”
Mathison nodded and escorted her closer to the table. She needed to change the subject, to get on with it. She needed to face her ghosts and put them to rest. He understood that. “’Tis my hope that Defender magic and the power of the moon will draw Mairwen’s attention.”
“Do we have to wait until tonight, then?”
“No, lass.” He filled the scrying bowl from the pitcher beside it. “Water thrice blessed by the full moon will grant us more power.”
“Thrice blessed?” She leaned closer, peering into the large onyx bowl that Mathison had secreted away from the Defenders’ stronghold when he’d been cursed.
“It was bathed in the full moon’s light three months in a row.”
She slowly rounded the table, eyeing the bowl as if expecting it to bare its teeth and attack. “The black blade on that knife looks wicked sharp.”
“The athame is obsidian. ’Tis verra sharp.” And it could be wicked, depending on whose magic wielded it.
She increased the distance between herself and the table while clasping her hands behind her back. “Sooo…what do we have to do?”
He nodded at the tall cathedral windows lining the gently curved walls of the circular room.
Since this was the uppermost chamber of the tower, the arches looked out in every direction.
The only blind spot was the narrow space for the door that led to the spiral staircase.
“Once the sun reaches its zenith, we begin. As ye can see, we’ve not much longer to wait. ”
She turned toward the windows and studied the view, squinting in the brightness of the clear Highland day. “High noon, then?”
“Aye.”
She stole a glance back at him. “To be honest, I thought we had slept well past noon.”
“Time passes more slowly here. In yer time, nearly seven days have already elapsed since ye passed through the Veil.”
She gave him a dubious look. “That’s like the myth I read about Thomas the Rhymer, who fell asleep on the fairy hill and thought he only spent one night in the land of the Fae.
But when the queen allowed him to return to his life, seven years had passed, and everything in his world had moved on without him. ”
Mathison snorted. He knew of that man. Thomas of Ercildoune, and he’d lived in Calia’s thirteenth century Scotland.
“’Tis not a myth, lass. Since she wished him to stay, the queen cursed him with the inability to lie when he left.
But due to his time in the Otherworld, he gained the gift of prophecy.
I dinna ken if that was also a curse or a blessing.
I have heard it said that ignorance is sometimes bliss. ”
Her focus on him sharpened. “You knew him.”
“More like I knew of him.”
“How if he lived in my time?”
“I, too, have supped with the Queen of the Fae. She was verra fond of Thomas. It hurt her heart and her pride when he insisted on leaving her.”
“But you’re only seven hundred years old—right? From the thirteenth century to my century is eight hundred years, give or take, depending on what year you start counting, and what year you stop.”