Duncan (Immortal Highlander Clan MacMar #5)

Chapter 3

Chapter Three

S peal kept watch from the railing of the merchant trader, her half-Fae blood allowing her to see as clearly in the dark as during the brightest hour of day. The night air bathed her in salt-kissed coolness, but all the sea water around her kept her on edge. Seeing her sovereign Derdrui being rowed ashore where they had arranged to meet with their new benefactor had reminded her of the many ridiculous promises she had made to the dark Fae enchantress. She and her shape-shifting Cait Sith sisters had pledged to serve her for the remainder of their lives. Of course at that time they hadn’t known that unlike their mortal màthairs they would live forever.

She yet keeps too many secrets from us.

Since Derdrui had escaped imprisonment in Elphyne and returned to the mortal realm, she had commanded the Cait Sith to devote themselves to her quest for vengeance. That meant endlessly searching for the MacMar, which the enchantress had sworn to destroy. In pursuit of the elusive clan and their hidden island, Speal and her sisters had been compelled to steal ships and sail the waters off the coast of Scotland; this despite their intense hatred of the sea.

What more must we do so we may appease her?

Although she could change her shape to that of any of the slain mortals whose blood she had drunk, Speal preferred the corpulent form she now wore. All the memories of the mortal to whom it had belonged were hers as well, although she had not murdered her. A widow without kin to protect her, the fishwife had been stabbed by a thief and left for dead. Speal, who had loved her at first sight, held her in her arms as she took her last breaths. The only comfort she had since watching the lady she loved die was absorbing her memories, and transforming herself so that she wore her thickset body like a comforting cloak.

I should go and live in the highlands, where none may plague me.

Being denied her vengeance had made Derdrui grow more reckless and vicious with each passing day; she had already turned on the Cait Sith by ordering the murder of Fiacail, their former leader and the eldest and wisest of them. Instead of dying, Fia had been saved and transformed by an immortal aquatic being who could change mortals and halflings into his personal warriors by melding them with sea creatures. She had returned to offer the Cait Sith a bargain, but Speal could no longer rely on her.

None of us trust each other anymore.

Duxor needed more shifters to transform into a monstrous army he could use to invade Caladh and prevail over Merrick, the king of the Finfolk. Derdrui intended to use him to locate that hidden island, as it was where the sons of Mar dwelled. The Cait Sith had no quarrel with the clan or the aquatics. Yet the enchantress would never release them from servitude until they aided her in butchering the get of the princely bastart who had rejected her love.

If she doesnae betray us, as she’s done with every other she’s used for her own purposes.

Mace came to stand beside her, who wore the shape of a scullery she had killed. After losing her sister to an ugly death, and then discovering she had been resurrected and transformed by Duxor, she had grown ever angrier than Speal. Her body projected the rigidity of outrage in her tensed spine and raised hackles, and she stank of old sweat and new blood.

“Never shall that fishman reveal the location of Caladh until he’s ruined us all,” the Cait Sith predicted, her nails scraping against the wooden railing. “We should raise anchor and flee for Francia. We may hide there.”

Speal had put Mace in charge of the Cait Sith transformed by the aquatic, and suspected they were the real reason for her ire. “What of those Duxor’s already changed?”

“Ask them, if you may convince them talk. They refuse converse with their lowly former sisters. Indeed, they hardly make any sound.” She spat into the water. “The wee fiend keeps watching me, and ever holds a blade ready, as if she means gut me.”

The smallest and most vicious of the shape shifters, since being melded with a shark, Dearg’s twisted character had grown even darker and more fearsome.

“I shall go and speak with Fiacail,” Speal told her. “She shall keep the others in line.” As she started to walk toward the hold hatch, Mace gripped her arm. “What more?”

“Tiene’s eyes, they’ve turned black as night, and she’s scratching herself as if the full moon’s risen.” Mace took in a deep breath before she added, “And her belly now swells.” She held a hand far out in front of her own flat abdomen.

As half-Fae, the Cait Sith could not become pregnant, or so Derdrui had assured them when the enchantress had explained all to them. That was the cost of their immortality, she’d claimed. No mortal could ever sire a bairn on them, and because they were already considered abominations among the Fae, no otherworldly male would ever touch them.

“I shall look after her until our sovereign returns,” Speal assured Mace, and touched her hand. “Whatever ’tis the cause, Derdrui shall save her.”

In the dark, dank confines of the hold she found some of the shifters who had been transformed by the aquatic immortal. They had gathered around a large wooden tub, in which Tiene lay, her bloody hands clutching the sides. All of them but Fiacail turned and made hissing sounds as Speal approached, but their former leader had one arm around Tiene and the other in the water. The scent of newly-shed blood came from all of them, as well as something like raw fish and mud.

“What ails her?” Speal demanded.

“Dinnae meddle,” Fiacail said to Speal as gold-streaked purple fluid stained the tub water.

Tiene uttered a terrifying yowl, and Fia’s arm moved quickly. She raised from the water a small, writhing fish with a gray-white hide and fins, but a mortal bairn’s face, and handed it to the little shifter, who placed it in a separate tub of water .

As Speal watched Fiacail pulled a dozen more mortal-faced fish from the tub, and handed them to Dearg. Tiene groaned and wailed the entire time, but eventually she fell silent and let her head sag against the tub’s rim.

“Add fresh sea water to the tub so she may heal proper,” Fiacail said to the other changed shifters before she turned to Speal. “Do you need me explain?”

“We cannae carry bairns,” she reminded her.

Her lips stretched into a grim smile. “Aye, only the sharks melded with us may birth as many pups as they wish. We cannae keep the males away from us in the sea, and so we end up bred with bellies full of the wee things.”

“Cannae your new master order the males stop?” Speal demanded.

“I begged, but he wishes us whelp more of our kind.” Fia dried her hands on a linen before she met her gaze directly. “The bairns dinnae obey their dams, but compulsively follow them.”

Horror made Speal’s throat fill with bile. “How many times do you birth these creatures each moon?”

“Within days of being bred.” She sighed. “We’re quite fertile, Sister, and speed our whelping time. ’Tis why we didnae accompany the enchantress to the islet, so we might deliver Tiene. ”

At least the transformed Cait Sith did not need to return to the sea in order to survive, she thought. “You must stay on the trader, then.”

“I hope we shall.” Fiacail glanced back at Tiene. “Mayhap I shall persuade the master permit us.”

Connal dismissed his guards and allowed only his seneschal Fletcher to remain with him in the laird’s chamber. There Merrick paced back and forth, like a starved cat smelling a pan of fresh cream out of reach. The king’s messenger stood appearing just as baffled as he had when he’d described to Connal his encounter with Nicole Fairley in the dunes. The Selseus male also seemed somewhat distracted, even in the presence of his king.

At least the latest woman to arrive from the future would not be a matter of contention between the MacMar and their aquatic neighbors. Her red hair, which the Selseus believed made her bad luck to their kind, would prevent any of Merrick’s men from demanding she wed them.

“MacLeir used his magic to repair the damage to the mist barrier,” he told Merrick, making him stop and glower at him, “so that problem, ’tis solved. My lady’s taken Mistress Fairley to a guest chamber. She possesses red hair, which renders her unsuitable for your kind. What more need you discuss with me?”

“Dinnae you ken what she did?” Merrick made a scathing sound, and pointed to his man. “She ordered my most trusted courier find help, and he obeyed her.”

“Come now. I believe she simply asked,” Connal chided.

Fletcher came to stand at his side, his expression darkening. “You cannae blame the lass for what he chose do, surely. He provided aid for her and our brother, which ’twas kind and much appreciated. Why dinnae you reward the man?”

“Reward him, indeed?” The king regarded his man. “Theol, what shall you do for that female you encountered on the shore with the fallen healer?”

The courier’s confusion cleared from his face.

“I must find help for her.” He looked around the room before he said to Connal, “My lord, might your men provide the lady aid?”

“Aye, so we did, lad.” The affection he saw in the aquatic’s eyes disturbed him even more than the man’s ongoing blind obedience to Nicole Fairley’s request. “She no longer requires assistance.”

“But she asks.” The courier turned to Merrick. “Shouldnae the Selseus send help for her, my king? I may rally our men if Commander Jamaran’s occupied with other matters. Indeed, I wish I might speak with the lady again, so she may relate more details of the aid she requires.”

“Fack me,” the seneschal said softly.

“Aye, now you ken the quandary,” Merrick said, glowering. “Indeed, I wager Theol shall try and help your Mistress Fairley until the very end of his days. Shall I leave him here with you, then, Laird? You may give her the lad as a servant, for he’s useless now.”

Before Connal could reply the messenger uttered a strange sound and dropped onto the floor. Fletcher went and knelt beside him, checking him before he regarded the king.

“He’s but swooned.” He glanced down as Theol’s eyelids lifted. “How fare you, lad?”

“I’m well, I reckon, Seneschal.” The courier looked up at Connal and Merrick. “Och, forgive me, my lord, my king.” He scrambled to his feet, and gazed around the laird’s chamber as if he’d never before seen the place. “Didnae I deliver my message to you, Laird MacMar?”

“You did, Theol. Remember what came after that?” Merrick asked.

The courier thought for a moment, and then shook his head. “I recall leaving the stronghold, but naught more. ”

“You’ve done well. Wish you give anyone aid, then?” the king asked.

Theol glanced at Fletcher and Connal before he said, “No one here needs help, my king. ’Tis someone else I need attend?”

“No, lad. Go home.” Merrick waited until the aquatic left before he folded his arms. “So the spell breaks itself, but no’ for hours. Bring this female before me. I wish ken if she’s some halfling spy sent by that facking enchantress.”

Connal understood why the king was so angry; anyone who could use magic to control his men could easily depose him from rule. He also suspected Nicole Fairley had not deliberately bespelled the courier, but had simply made an ordinary request.

“I shall attend Mistress Fairley,” he told Merrick. “’Tis likely a boon gifted by my late wife’s ring that caused your man’s enchantment, for she’s a mortal.”

“How can you tell?” the king demanded. “If she’s enchanted you and yours, you likely shall serve her as blindly as Theol.”

“We’re half-Fae,” Connal reminded him. “You’re no’.”

Merrick closed his eyes for a moment, and then glared at Fletcher. “You keep Mistress Fairley out of our waters and away from my kind.”

Once the king stalked out of the chamber, Connal rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. Merrick’s demands did not set well with him, but when he turned to Fletcher, his seneschal appeared almost as angry as the king had.

“I’ve enough on my shoulders without you adding more grief,” he warned the seneschal. “The king, he’s forgotten his manners, but he’s no’ wrong in asking for such.”

“Merrick’s in the right, my lord.” Fletcher’s jaw tightened. “This female, she’s a threat. We’ve enough we must manage with the enchantress. MacLeir should take her off the island and leave her on the mainland, as soon as he may set sail.”

“She’s only just arrived,” Connal reminded him, and then frowned. “I ken your horrendous temper’s roused, but what happened with Theol, ’tisnae her fault.”

“I dinnae agree,” the seneschal said flatly. “She frightened two maids near out of their wits. Now Merrick’s enraged, and we need him and his in the coming war. How much more must she do before you send her away?”

Nicole managed to keep up her pretense as Lady Valerie showed her to a guest room, but every time they passed a doorway it took all her willpower not to take off and run. As large as the castle seemed to be, she’d probably get lost before she could find her way out of it. If the people here knew who she was, then this was just a game to make her believe she’d traveled through time. The fact they’d gone to all this trouble to convince her made her insides shrivel, especially when she thought about their motives. She couldn’t even think about how she’d gotten here, because that was even more terrifying.

Hudson couldn’t have done this. Not knowing who was responsible was the worst part. The range of possibilities ran the gamut from scary to horrific, and she couldn’t ask.

“The medieval diet is definitely basic, but the food is healthy and our cook Brochan does wonderful things with the island’s resources.” Valerie went to the guest room’s hearth to add some kindling to the glowing coals, and when they flared she added split wood atop them. “There’s water for washing in that jug there, but most of our maids have gone to bed. I’m afraid you’ll have to wait until morning for a real bath.”

As the older woman stood and turned around Nicole faked a yawn.

“That would be great, thank you. I also appreciate everything you’ve done to make me comfortable.” She glanced at the iron-hinged door. “I should probably get some rest now.”

Valerie smiled. “If you need anything, just ask the guards in the hall. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

So she was being guarded, too. Nicole waited until the other woman left before she finally allowed her wobbly legs to give out and dropped on the cold stone floor. Putting her head between her knees, she focused on breathing until the horrible urge to vomit went away. This nightmare was the worst thing that had ever happened to her, and she still wasn’t sure exactly what the situation was, much less what to do.

Why are you so upset? Her conscience, which sounded remarkably like Cameron Alston now, asked in a snooty tone. You wanted to be saved and have a chance to meet the guy, didn’t you? So much so that you agreed to that bargain the Fae prince and his dead daughter-in-law offered you without asking any questions. If that’s who they were. Anyway, surprise! This is how much your blind date costs. Collect on delivery.

Nicole had to grab the side of the bed to pull herself to her feet, and staggered over to the wash stand. The hallucination she’d had in the water couldn’t have been real; she’d obviously been kidnapped. Hudson must have drugged her and handed her over to these people. She had no one to rescue her, either. It made her realize that she had never been left on her own; she’d always been protected. Her hands trembled badly as she poured some of the water from the jug into the bowl, and then used it to splash her hot face.

I’m okay. I’ve done well so far, so I can figure out how to escape. Dad made me go through that hostage survival class for situations exactly like this.

What Duncan and Lady Valerie had told her echoed inside her head, but it was seeing the cold stone under her bare feet and the heavy, hand-hammered iron hinges on the wooden door that seriously confused her. If she was being held for ransom, why had the kidnappers gone to such lengths to make her believe their fairytale lies? Where was this place? The way these people spoke, and the intricately detailed story they’d told her didn’t make any sense, either. Why wouldn’t they just chain her up in some dark, remote place until they got their money?

Whatever this is, you’re still here. The internal voice grew softer but sounded slightly pouty, like Brittany. What matters is that you’re alive.

“Am I?” Nicole could only whisper, because her throat had grown so tight it was as if some invisible hand had her in a stranglehold. “What if Hudson killed me?”

Then enjoy your afterlife, Peach. It’s in the twelfth-century on a magical Scottish island inhabited by the half-human sons of a Fae Prince. P.S., they’re being hunted by shape-shifters and an evil enchantress.

Nicole made it to the privy just in time before everything she’d eaten and drunk at the reunion banquet came back up. Once she was sure there was nothing left she made her way back to the wash stand, and drank directly from the jug to rinse out her mouth. She paid one more visit to the privy to spit out the water, and then collapsed on the big bed. Although she hated throwing up, in a strange way it reassured her.

If I can do that, then I’m probably still alive.

The scent of sunshine-soaked linens and a fainter smell of birds enveloped her. They had stuffed the mattress with feathers of some type; fortunately she didn’t mind the odor. In an odd way it comforted her. Nicole lay staring at the wooden beams and stones that formed the ceiling over her head, closing her eyes when they started to burn. She began sorting through every possible explanation, and a few that were probably impossible, but none of them fit.

Everything suggested she had been kidnapped by people who wanted her to believe all the nonsense they told her. But why lie to her about the abduction? Did they think she wouldn’t try to escape?

Maybe it’s all a bad dream, and when I wake up I’ll be back in my cabin on Dad’s yacht.

As much as she wanted to, Nicole couldn’t doze off even for a few minutes. The smell of woodsmoke from the hearth kept suggesting that she actually had come to a place without power or conveniences. If it wasn’t an elaborate con job, then she really had been sent back in time to the twelfth century to meet Duncan MacMar.

All right, then. Let’s say I might be in the Middle Ages.

She could see the primitive conditions of the era all around her. No electricity, running water or indoor plumbing. Food had to be grown, raised, caught or hunted here, and cooked over fires. Even the borrowed clothes she wore had been hand-stitched. What her tutors had taught her about the medieval era now seemed useless; she could know the names of kings and the dates of wars and who fought them, but nothing about the demands of daily life, or how ordinary people survived.

They’re not ordinary. Duncan said they were half-Fae.

That thought made Nicole give up on sleep. She made herself think about the darkly handsome healer, and how he had looked at and spoken to her. He wasn’t faking that Scottish accent, or the archaic way he spoke. Whenever she had touched him she’d experienced that uncharacteristic and completely disturbing arousal. How could she react to him that way when she’d always been so careful to avoid all men? Now she was lusting after a guy who could be involved in kidnapping her.

It's the shock. Or you have a brain injury.

As Nicole sat up, grimacing in anticipation of pain from her ribs, she went still. Nothing hurt; it seemed as if she’d never been injured. When she pressed her hand to her side, she found the swelling had gone along with the discomfort.

“What did he do to me?” She climbed off the bed and pulled up the long shirt, craning her head to inspect her abdomen. No bruising marred her fair skin. The open cut across the top of her right foot had vanished, and even her split lip had healed as if it had never happened—just like the injuries she’d had when Hudson had thrown her into the ocean.

Did I hallucinate being hurt, too?

At that moment, Duncan came in carrying a tray with a crude-looking pottery mug and a wooden plate of toast lightly covered with golden jam. He had cleaned up, changed his clothes and tied back his hair, and smelled of soap; he looked nothing like some uncaring brute of a kidnapper.

Two more votes for the Fae prince’s sons and the twelfth century.

Duncan stopped in his tracks as soon as he saw her, and stared at her for a long moment before he averted his gaze. Nicole became distracted by the sudden heat streaking through her. Why did she want to run over to him and kiss that cleft in his chin? When she took in a quick breath her lips throbbed as if she’d done exactly that.

If he didn’t lie to me, then he’s only half-human, she reminded herself. That might explain why I’m reacting to him like this.

“Forgive me, my lady. The guards reported you grew sick, and I made some calming brew to help,” he told her as he deliberately stared at the wall. “’Tis best with bread and preserves. They’ll settle your belly.”

Belatedly pulling the shirt down over her bare body, Nicole went over to inspect the tray’s contents, but the healer turned out to be much more interesting. Beneath the scent of soap he smelled of whatever he’d infused in the brew, something almost like lemon blended with a darkly sweet substance. They wouldn’t have any sweetener but honey in this time. Imagining where he might have dripped that on himself made her mouth go dry. Given a chance, she’d be happy to check him for it—every inch of him, with her mouth.

Why am I thinking about sex with a kidnapper, or a half-human medieval doctor? Whatever he is, he’s not for me. I need to go home.

“Thank you.” He was watching her face so closely she wondered if she was even fooling him. “Are the guards going to report everything I do to you?” Somehow that came out sounding dirty, and embarrassment made her flush.

“I confess, I inquired first while passing your chamber.” He pressed a hand to her brow, and frowned as she stepped back to break the contact. “I only wished to check for fever, lass.”

Nicole hated that she loved his touch. They weren’t lovers, and they never would be. She needed to keep some distance between them.

“I don’t have a fever, and please don’t touch me without my permission.” She glanced at the door. When he didn’t take the hint, she asked, “Is there anything else?”

“I wish ken what made you boak—become sick. If I may check your heartbeat?” When she reluctantly nodded he pressed two fingers against her wrist bone. “Your heart, ’tis pumping steady, and no’ too fast. Did you swallow any sea water?”

His breath as he spoke warmed her cheek, and Nicole was tempted to tell him it was sensory overload plus some rather justifiable hysteria. She genuinely wished she could trust him, even with her wild physical reaction to him. No man this gentle and concerned could want to hurt her. Yet she had assumed her adopted brother would never harm her, either. She knew nothing about Duncan MacMar or his clan, how they had brought her here or what they intended to do to her. She couldn’t tell them anything about herself, either. If they knew how terrified she was, they could certainly use that to manipulate her.

“I don’t remember.” She glanced at the tray. “I’m sure your brew and toast will help.”

Duncan appeared unconvinced, but after a brief silence he said, “One of the kitchen maids, she’s near ready give birth, so I must attend her next. I shall look in on you in the morning. If before then you need my aid, ask one of the guards fetch me.”

Nicole agreed, and walked him to the door. As soon as he left she closed it and leaned against the heavy wood as tears welled and spilled down her face. She couldn’t start sobbing, either; the guards might hear her. No, even when she was by herself, she would have to keep up her pretense of accepting it all.

If this is the past, why didn’t the voices tell me that’s where I’d end up? Why bring me all the way back here just to meet Duncan? Why would that matter to them? I can’t do anything to help these people. What is my brother telling my father? That I got so drunk I jumped off the yacht? What if Hudson tries to kill Dad?

Ignoring the panic and dragging her feet across the cold stones, Nicole picked up and sniffed the mug of brew before tasting it. The herbs and honey in the drink calmed her stomach a little, but her throat was still too tight for her to manage the thick, dark bread.

I’ve got to pull myself together.

Once Nicole drank most of the brew, she washed away the tears and sat in the chair by the hearth. Watching the flames, she silently rehearsed what she would ask them in the morning. She would be very careful about what she said. If they weren’t kidnappers, then it wasn’t their fault that she had been brought to Caladh. It had been her own idiocy in agreeing to that bargain.

Hi, does anyone know how I can get out of here and go back to the twenty-first century? Now, please?

In the great hall Nyall stood and listened to his patrollers report one by one as they warmed themselves by the great hearth. Despite their best efforts they had been unable to locate Meg, or any sign that she had returned to the MacKay farm on the other side of the island. The sudden chill that came after midnight signaled that winter would arrive earlier than expected.

Would they survive until the spring? Nyall wondered.

“She’s likely hidden herself in the ridges, Captain,” one of his best trackers said. “So she wouldnae face punishment for her wrongdoing.”

He noticed one of the other men grimacing and beckoned to him. “What ken you of the lass?”

“Naught of her whereabouts, Captain.” He made an uneasy gesture. “’Tis only how Meg’s been since she came back from the farm. She’s ever been saucy, you ken, and fears no MacMar. I cannae count how many times she’s made us laugh in the past. Only now she seems sad and too silent.” He glanced around at the other patrollers. “You’ve seen the same, aye, lads?”

The men looked unhappy but muttered their agreements.

“Aye, well, she’s a young maiden, and likely had her heart bruised,” Nyall told them. “’Twill pass in time. Keep watch for her, but dinnae overhandle the wench.”

After they left, a familiar sense of being close to his lover came over him. He looked over his shoulder at his wife, who had perched on one of the tables behind him. She wore her wet suit but appeared as if she had been out of the water for some time.

He went to her. “Why didnae you hail me when you arrived, Caroline?”

“I didn’t want to interrupt report time.” She moved into his arms and kissed him, and then sighed before she stepped back. “Meg’s in trouble?”

Nyall told her about the incident with Duncan, and Nicole’s arrival before he said, “Mayhap she saw the lady in the water, and wished to speed the healer for a rescue.”

“When you want to save someone’s life, you generally don’t push a rescuer off a cliff,” his wife said, her expression growing thoughtful. “Might be she thought he was someone else. Did anyone see Merrick hanging around before that?”

“None that I ken.” Nyall knew of the ill-fated love shared by Meg and the ruler of the Selseus, the immortal aquatic beings who occupied a huge underwater settlement just off Caladh’s bay. Meg had even left Dun Ard to work on the other side of the island to avoid Merrick. “You reckon the king enraged the lass again?”

“I don’t know. It’s like the guys said, she’s been very weird lately,” Caroline told him. “I’ve seen her pacing back and forth on the cliffs every night. I thought she was watching for Merrick at first, but all she does is stare up at the stars. She also keeps rubbing her arms like this.” She put her hands on the outsides of her shoulders and moved them down to her elbows and then back up again.

“I shall ask Duncan attend her once she’s found.” He dropped a kiss on her pretty lips. “Dinnae fret. Meg’s a resilient lass. Whatever plagues her shall soon mend.”

“Hope so. Now I have to ask you something.” She untied the wet hemp cloth bag she had tied to her weight belt, and from it drew out a sphere-shaped object so encrusted with barnacles and algae that nothing beneath showed. “While I was out collecting some urchins for Lark today I found a whole bed of these. Hundreds of them have clustered in a spot right outside the cove. I can’t tell what they are, but they’re too perfect to be natural. Because they might be Fae-made I thought even scraping off the sea junk was a bad idea. Also, they weren’t there when I swam through the same spot yesterday.”

When he took it from her, the burn of a powerful enchantment sizzled across his palm. “’Tis a Fae object. You saw hundreds of the same?”

Caroline nodded. “If one of the villagers goes there to collect shellfish, they’ll probably walk right into the bed. If they’re dangerous, we need to get them out of the water.”

“Aye.” He placed the artifact inside an empty stone box before binding the lid with a stout strap. “I shall take this to Duncan, and speak with Jamaran later about removing them.”

“Good, then come over to my place after you’re done for the day.” Her lips curved, and excitement shimmered in her eyes. “Our commander was planning to spend the night, so we can talk…after.”

On his way to the infirmary Nyall couldn’t stop smiling to himself. Since Caroline had taken him and his best friend as her lovers, she had freed all the desires he had hidden for so long. She’d also helped him realize that long ago helping to save Jamaran’s life, and being present at his transformation, had likely caused their closer-than-brotherly bond. Yet it had been his wife who had desired them both, and bonded the three of them in spite of some disapproval. Now he couldn’t imagine his life without sharing his passion with his wife and his best friend.

As he walked into the infirmary he saw the healer pacing back and forth in front of his cabinet. Duncan looked as he never did: ready to brawl.

Nyall cleared his throat. “I’ve a gift for your collection, Brother, and many more of the same once we harvest them from the sea floor.”

The healer didn’t seem to hear him at first, and then suddenly changed direction and came to take the stone box from him. “What facking thing did you find now?”

“I cannae tell.” He wondered if he should leave and return after an hour, as Duncan almost never lost his temper. “’Tis anything amiss? That kitchen maid that got with child came asking your aid, mayhap?”

“’Tisnae Jamma. Mistress Fairley doesnae wish me touch her—as if I’m some slavering lad with his first woman.” He thumped down the stone box on his work table and began untying the cording. “I’m the clan’s healer. I’ve assured her I shallnae hurt her. Aye, and she’s put hands on me more than once. As if I wish touch her for my own amusement.”

Nyall recalled his own frustration with Caroline after she first came to the island, and wondered if Duncan even realized the cause of his ire. “She’s far from home and doesnae ken any of us, Brother. Give her time so she may grow familiar with you.”

The healer made a surly sound as he removed the lid to the box and took out the object. Without warning a bright blue light radiated from it, and the outer coating of scum and barnacles turned black and fell off the surface, which appeared to be carved from a mossy green stone.

“’Tis an imp egg?” Nyall asked, drawing a dagger.

“If ’tis, I’ve never found the like.” Duncan carried it over to the huge black cabinet spelled by their sire to null all magical Fae artifacts, and tucked it in his arm so he could unlock the doors.

The green stone sphere rolled down to his wrist, and there bounced off to fall to the floor. A sharp sound came from its surface, which split in a long, irregular crack that raced around its edges. Nyall grabbed a kindling stick to ignite it in the hearth, as fire was the only means by which Fae imps could be destroyed. Yet instead of cracking open to reveal one of the tiny voracious monsters, the cracked sphere simply rolled in a circle before going still.

“Dinnae burn the thing yet.” Duncan knelt down, but before he could pick up the orb a long, thin branch sprouted from it, growing so quickly that by the time he stood it loomed over him. “Oh, fack me.”

Nyall peered at the base, and saw thin pale green roots sinking into the stone floor. Seizing the trunk of the sapling, he used his dagger to cut it from its roots, which instantly blackened and turned to dust. New roots came from the sphere’s bottom, undulating like tentacles as they tried to find something onto which they could latch and bury themselves. He carried the tree sphere over to the hearth, and thrust the roots into the flame. The entire plant turned gray before it disintegrated into ash.

Julianne came into the infirmary. “Hey, dudes. Uh, what’s that weird burning smell?”

“A disaster we averted, my lady.” He shook the fragments off his hands before he regarded Duncan. “’Tis tales of melia starting forests with but one enchanted sphere tossed onto bare ground. ’Twas that, aye?”

The healer nodded. “A sporing sphere from their otherworld. The ash, oak and rowan that spring from such spread over every inch of ground to form great forests. Yet the melia claimed they used the last they possessed when they helped our sire create Caladh.”

“They lied,” Nyall told him. “Caroline saw hundreds underwater by the cove.”

Duncan grimaced. “They must stay in the water to prevent them from hatching.”

Julianne stepped between them. “It’s not a problem, guys. Listen to me for a sec, ’kay?”

Nyall nodded, and sometime later he found himself alone with Duncan. Had someone come in and spoken to them? He couldn’t remember. Nor could he recall why he’d come to the infirmary, leaving him confused. “You summoned me, Healer?”

“No, Captain,” Duncan appeared just as puzzled. “Need you my aid?”