Duncan (Immortal Highlander Clan MacMar #5)

Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

M eg waited until after dark to sneak away from the stronghold and go to the cave, but once safely hidden in there she grew cold and sick and confused. The impulses that had driven her to attack Duncan on the cliffs had returned, so much stronger than before. Whenever she looked upon one of the MacMar or their vassals, it was all she could do not to lunge at them.

They breathe my air. They show me naught but pity. ’Tis unbearable.

Ever since her childhood, people had looked upon her with contempt or compassion. When she had been a starving wee lass in éire, the women in her father’s village had chased her away from their rubbish heaps, but a few had instead offered her scraps from their own meals. She had hated the kind ones, for they reminded her that her own màthair had abandoned her when she was just a newborn. Her da had remarried, and kept his second wife pregnant until she died in childbirth with her fourth daughter, leaving Meg to cook, clean and look after the little ones in her place. She should have been loved and cherished like the daughters of the other village women, instead of being turned into an unpaid, unappreciated drab.

Didnae she care for me?

Meg had understood why her da had sold her and her sisters to slavers. Their crops had failed twice, and the money he’d received for them would settle his debts and keep him and his sons from starving during the winter months. Men never cared for nurturing anything but their bellies, cocks and purses. She had not expected her situation to improve, but when the ship from éire had struck the shoals and sunk in mid voyage, she knew at least she’d not suffer as a slave. Listening to her sisters scream in terror as water flooded the hold, however, had made her curse the sea for choking the life out of them all.

Then Merrick had come and saved her from drowning, dragging her away from the corpses of her little sisters and taking her up to the air. She still had not forgiven him for that.

Next to the embers of the day’s fire, Meg curled up, covering herself with the plaid she’d filched from the stronghold. She had not struck Nicole Fairburn hard enough to kill her, so she would quickly recover from the blow. She knew the woman had not seen her, nor had any of the guards, so she did not have to worry about punishment from the laird. Tomorrow she would surely be saner, and could leave to travel back to the MacKay farm, and return to her duties there. Perhaps she would look for a husband among the unmarried men in the nearby crofts. A husband and perhaps some bairns would do much to keep her–

Darkness swept over Meg, and a strong arm jerked her to her feet.

“Get off me.” She struggled, trying to twist out of the grip he had on her throat, only to go still as she saw black eyes glaring at her from inside the inky cloud of blackness. “Chieftain? Let me go.”

“I smelled you in the passage.” Shaw shoved her to the ground as his tattoos absorbed all the blackness radiating from him. “’Twas you struck Mistress Fairburn from behind, like a facking coward. Why?”

“I dinnae ken.” All the fight went out of her. “I cannae control myself. A terrible rage comes over me, and I attack before I think. I cannae recall all that I do in such a state. I dinnae remember hurting her.” She swallowed a sob. “You should slay me before I kill someone. ”

For a moment the chieftain looked as if he might just do that, and then he hauled her to her feet.

“Look at me.” When she did, he turned her face to one side, peered into her eyes, and then lifted up her hand. “You didnae break her skin when you struck her. What made your fingers bleed?”

“My flesh crawls and itches every night.” She drew up her sleeve to show him the way she’d scratched herself.

“You must see the healer.” He clamped a hand around her wrist and jerked her along with him as he strode toward Dun Ard’s back gates.

All along the way to the infirmary Meg thought of a dozen excuses to explain her frightful deeds, but after what she’d confessed to Shaw, he’d never believe them. A small part of her—a very small, foolish part—wanted to wrench free of him and run. That same outlandish seed of defiance also wanted him to give chase, catch, and hurt her.

“You shallnae run,” Shaw told her, as if he could see inside her head. “You ken Duncan. He shall help you.”

“’Tis no cure for madness.” She stopped in front of the infirmary’s open door, and the wildness ebbed again, leaving her exhausted. “’Tis kinder end me, Chieftain.”

The chieftain put an arm around her. “’Twas what they said of me, Meggie, and I proved them wrong. So shall you.”

Inside they found the clan’s healer seated and studying a scroll so old the edges flaked bits onto his work table. When he looked up he eyed Shaw before standing and coming to Meg.

“She’s bespelled,” the chieftain told him. “Give her a calming brew, and permit her tell you all.” He glared at her. “Dinnae run from him or I’ll beat your skinny arse.”

As soon as Shaw left, Meg considered asking the healer to give her a different potion, one that might calm her into a shroud. Her longing for death was nothing new; she’d wanted to end herself ever since Merrick had declared his love for her. Yet to die without learning what had driven her to hurt others seemed just as unbearable as clinging to her hopeless love for the Finfolk king.

Duncan brought her over to a chair rather than his treatment table, and pulled up a stool for himself before he regarded her steadily. “Do as Shaw said, lass.”

Meg wondered where she could start, and then she recalled he had been the first to suffer at her hands. “’Twas me pushed you off the cliffs the night Mistress Fairburn arrived on Caladh. I saw you from behind, and then shoved you over the edge. I like you, I vow I do. I’d been at odds with myself all day, and just couldnae resist. After, such pleasure came over me, ’twas as if I’d finished eating a grand meal.”

She told him how she had set up a hiding place for herself some days before the attack, and the often unbearable itching spells that had afflicted her. Eating gave her no pleasure any longer; she hardly slept an hour without waking and pacing the floor. She admitted to attacking Nicole, although she still had no memory of a reason, as before with him. Finally she showed him her bloodied fingers.

“Today they hurt me as if someone drove splinters under the nails.” She waited for him to say something, and when he didn’t she dropped her hands. “Either the chieftain’s right and I’ve been bespelled, or I’ve gone mad and done such myself, Healer.”

Duncan rose and went to the wash stand, where he soaked a cloth with water from the jug. When he returned to his stool he held out his hand. “Permit me clean the blood from your fingers. I wish see what’s amiss.”

She almost laughed out loud. “I confess to coshing your lady love, and you’d wash my hands?”

“I could take revenge for your harming me and Mistress Fairburn, but ’twouldnae tell me why you did such. Mayhap we should find the cause first.” He looked into her eyes. “Trust me and give me your hand, lass.”

When she reluctantly extended her arm, he gently wiped the blood from each finger before inspecting the nail. By the time he finished and reached for her other hand she thought she would scream with frustration.

“You grow agitated again, aye?” His eyes narrowed. “What do you wish do now?”

“Hurt you.” The words rasped as they came from her, and she struggled to say the rest as her body began trembling violently. “I can hardly speak.”

“Dinnae fight me.” Duncan lifted her off the chair and put her on his table, pressing her back until she lay writhing. Quickly he tied down her arms and legs with strong cords, and then went to the cabinet where he kept the Fae objects he collected.

By that time Meg began uttering rough, low grunts as the dreadful itching came over her. Because she couldn’t scratch herself, she then shrieked with fury, and then the healer came back and fastened an etched stone on a leather thong around her neck. The moment the cool stone touched her skin the itching, fury and shaking stopped.

“I’ve truly been bespelled?” Meg whispered, her mind clear and her heart filling with horror.

“Only just now, from the charm I put on you,” he told her, and brushed the hair back from her eyes. “’Tis stopped the change coming over you. Your body, ’twas altering itself.”

His description of her state sickened her even more.

“What could do such, and what shall I become? A beast?”

“I wager you’ll learn after nightfall, when the full moon rises,” he said. “But such changes dinnae happen for ordinary mortals. I reckon your blood, ’tis causing your alterations and impulses.”

He knew what she was going to turn into, and he didn’t want to reveal that. For a moment Meg was glad, because she suspected it would drive her mad to know. Only she knew she had to face it, and decide before the full moon swelled if she should end herself.

She looked into his dark eyes, glad that she still saw some kindness there. “Tell me all you’ve no’ said, Healer.”

“Your hair, ’twas turning black,” Duncan said, his voice growing soft and kind. “The nails on your fingers grew longer and bled, as if something from within pushed them out. Your eyes turned to a paler green, and your skin grew riddled with tiny bumps. When you spoke, I saw your teeth had also grown longer and sharper. I suspect the coming full moon calls your Therion shifter blood.”

Therion shifter blood. Meg’s heart struck those words and shattered over them before it began to sink in her chest. She was the same as the Cait Sith, the clan’s enemies.

“Did one of them enchant me somehow?” she begged, hoping against everything that told her otherwise. “Cannae you cure me of the change?”

“’Tisnae an enchantment. ’Twas in your blood from birth.” He wiped away the tear that rolled down her cheek. “You’re half-mortal, and half Fae, Meg, just as the MacMar.”

“Only I’m no’ Prince Mar’s daughter. He could only sire sons on mortal females.” She swallowed a sob. “’Twas my màthair , then. She took my da as her lover, birthed me, and ran off. Why didnae I ken any of what she made me before now?”

“You’ve only just reached womanhood, lass. All halflings appear mortal until then.” Duncan began untying her, and then helped her sit up. “We must arrange a place for you before nightfall where you may remove the charm and change in safety.”

“In the dungeons, then.” She met his worried gaze. “Lock me away from the other vassals, so I dinnae harm anyone else. Keep me there until ’tis finished. ”

“I’ll stay with her, Healer.” Lady Valerie came into the infirmary, but from her expression she’d been listening at the door. She came to Meg, holding out her arms.

“Keep your distance, my lady,” she told the laird’s wife, climbing off the table and backing away from her. “The enchantress, she’s a shifter, aye? I could be her spawn. I could cut your throat before you could blink–”

“No, you wouldn’t, because you love me,” the older woman said, her voice filled with warmth and compassion as she pulled her close. “And I love you as if I had given birth to you myself. We will get through this together, I promise you.”

Meg had never wept so hard as she did in Valerie’s arms; if her tears had turned to blood she would not have been surprised. Yet as her sobbing finally slowed, for the first time she had a little hope, and now, someone who knew and wished to comfort and protect her.

Nicole went to the infirmary with two mugs of spicy brew, but found it empty. Duncan must have gone off to check on Fiacail, she decided as she set down the drinks and sat beside the healer’s hearth. Watching the flames dance made an intense drowsiness come over her, and she dozed off, falling into the darkness where dreams came.

Nicole became aware first of the blue silk dress she wore, which had too much lace and the flouncy skirts her father had always liked to see her wear. Judging by the flatness of her chest and lack of height, she had come back to her thirteen-year-old self. As she stood in the dark waiting to relive whatever memory had escaped her subconscious, the scent of cotton candy warmed the cold air around her.

Only one person could do that in her dreams.

“Aunt Merry.” Part of her wanted to shriek with outrage, but that would change nothing. “I know you’re there. Quit playing hide and seek.”

Her aunt stepped out of the shadows, her curly white hair nearly glowing against the dark. “I would never do such a thing, Princess.”

She had met her aunt for the first and only time when she was thirteen, which explained her appearance. Merry had paid her a surprise visit while she had been in the states, taking her out for sumptuous lunches at the best restaurants. Never a snob when it came to anything, the older woman had used their time together to teach her to appreciate classic French cuisine just as much as American bistro food. While she had never tried to be a mother to her, during that visit she had given Nicole a glimpse of what her mother might have been like.

And just before promising to see her in her dreams and leaving, her sweet, wonderful, sophisticated aunt had revealed the truth about herself and her sister, Sylvaen. That honesty had destroyed all of Nicole’s dreams and utterly ruined her life.

“Have you missed me?” Merry asked. “Not a day has passed when I haven’t thought of you, Nicolina.”

At thirteen Nicole had had no idea why her aunt called her that. She’d already seen her birth certificate, and her mother had named her Nicole Brielle Fairburn. It had confused her during her aunt’s first and only visit, but she’d been polite and said nothing to her.

That had been the story of her life, Nicole thought sadly. Shutting up because to question anything was bad manners.

“Why are you coming to me now?” A surge of reluctant affection made her go over and hug her mother’s sister. “I just had a dream about you a little while ago.”

“Did you? How lovely. Word came to me that you jumped off your father’s yacht and disappeared. Everyone believes you were killed.” Merry pouted. “How could you do such a terrible thing to Maxwell? He has grown so heartbroken that he refuses to get out of bed anymore. Hudson just sits with him all day, holding his hand like the angel he is.”

“On the night of the family reunion banquet, that angel brother of mine clubbed me over the head and threw me off the yacht,” Nicole told her, growing angry now. “The only reason he’s sitting with Dad is so he can use the first chance he gets to murder him, too.”

Her aunt wrinkled her nose. “Oh, dear, I should have suspected as much. That boy never has been content with his lot. He set the fire that killed his parents, you know. That is the real reason why Maxwell sent him to that therapist. Hudson told him it had been an accident, but your father never trusted him after that.”

Neither of them could do anything about her brother; Merrivane was in Elphyne and Nicole was stuck in the twelfth century. “Why couldn’t you have foreseen it, or whatever it is you do? You could have come back and warned me before it happened.”

“I’m not permitted to leave our world anymore, and to be truthful, the only place you can be safe is where you are now, with your lover,” Merry said. “That Scotsman and all his people desperately need your help. He’s so handsome it breaks my heart, truly it does. He could be a Fae prince himself. Oh, if only I were young like you. You do love him with all your heart, don’t you, Princess?”

“That’s my business, not yours.” She didn’t want to think about Duncan now. “What does the healer have to do with my safety?”

“Just like you, Duncan MacMar is not what he appears to be,” her aunt chided. “You would see that if you would look at him properly. But then, you have never looked at yourself that way.” She sighed and patted her hand. “Remember that you have more than one gift—but the one?” Her gentle eyes looked directly into Nicole’s. “If you use it properly, child, nothing in this world or in any other can stop you. But only the once.” She rested her cheek against her hand. “That is all I am permitted to tell you, sweetheart. I wish I could give you more details, but even I have to obey the rules.”

“What game are you playing?” She had a sense of foreboding, although it wasn’t coming from her aunt. “I want to wake up now.”

“When the time comes, you will.” Merry lifted her hands in a palm-up gesture, and revealed the bits of wood she was holding. “Now you have to deal with these.”

“Deal with splinters. Sure, I will.” Nicole watched her aunt turn, and when the old lady faced her again she had become the tall, handsome MacMar healer. “Will you please stop messing with my head?”

Merry-turned-Duncan caught her in his arms, and pulled her against him. All around their feet the darkness grew alive with small splinters of wood that seemed to be writhing and growing larger.

“Dinnae move, lass,” the healer whispered against her temple as the darkness retreated, showing more of the strange bits of wood crawling over the stone floor toward them. “They’re newborn Fae imps.”

Nicole saw they were standing atop the chair she had dozed off in, and from the hard heat of him pressing against her she knew she couldn’t still be dreaming. “How did so many get in here?”

“I’ve collected them over time.” He nodded toward the open doors of his black cabinet. “I saw a maid in the hall before I came. Did anyone look in on you?”

“No, but I’ve spoken to Eilidh and a few of the maids before now.” She thought of the young woman that had passed her right before she’d been attacked. “Did she have bright red hair?”

“’Twasnae Meg. She’s in the dungeons with Lady Valerie.” He took hold of her arms. “I shall lift you up so they dinnae bite you. Once they bore into your flesh ’tis no saving you.”

“Wait.” She reached down, keeping her hand open, and one of the wood imps crawled up onto her palm. When she lifted it up to eye level it hissed at Duncan. “Don’t do that. The healer is a good guy. Why don’t all of you take a nap?”

The tiny creature turned and regarded her as if it could see her despite its lack of eyes. As you command, our princess.

“’Tis listening to you,” Duncan said, sounding surprised. He saw her expression and added, “I can hear its thoughts.”

“So can I. I’ve always had control over animals, and it’s something like them, I suppose.” Nicole stroked a fingertip over its back. “My aunt told me they attack humans if they threaten the trees that are sacred to the Fae. Did you say these are newborns?”

“Aye.” Duncan crouched down and held out his hand, and one of the tiniest imps hopped onto his palm. When he stood up the imp curled up like a puppy and went still. “’Tis dead.”

“Asleep,” she corrected as the one she held wrapped its tiny limbs around one of her fingers and stopped moving. When she glanced down she saw the rest of the imps had done the same. “You didn’t have this many eggs in your cabinet, did you?”

“No.” Duncan carefully transferred the imp he held to her hand before he went over to the cabinet to close and lock the doors. He then looked all around the infirmary, and went over to pick up a small basket that had tipped over onto its side by the chair where she had been sleeping. “The maid brought them in, then, and spilled them on the floor beside you.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Nicole pointed out. “If imps hate humans as much as you said, then wouldn’t they have attacked her the moment she tried to put them in the basket?”

“Only if she’s mortal.” He began picking up the slumbering imps and carefully put them in the basket before he carried it over to the hearth.

“No, don’t kill them,” Nicole said as he began to tip the basket into the fire. “I have another idea.”

She took down a large empty crock from his shelves, and brought it over to him. Together they placed all the newborn imps inside, and after assuring they’d found them all, Duncan sealed the crock with candlewax and a cork.

“’Tisnae a kindness,” he told her. “Once born, they become fixed on finding their creators. They’ll gnaw their way through the cork and attack every mortal in the stronghold, unless we burn them first.”

She didn’t want the imps to hurt anyone, but killing them only because they were dangerous seemed cruel.

“Maybe the ferryman can take them back to the mainland, and release them in a remote forest far from human settlements,” she suggested. “It’s possible that the melia who live there will take them inside their world.”

Duncan gave her an odd look. “You reckon they’d do such for imps they didnae create?”

“Why wouldn’t they? They may need them someday for protection.” Nicole took the crock from his hands and carried it over to the cabinet. “Do you have a niche in here that’s large enough to hold them?”

The healer came over and opened the doors, and rearranged several items in order to empty one of the largest compartments. The crock fit inside it perfectly.

“That will keep them from running loose for now.” She watched him close and secure the cabinet. “There, isn’t that better than killing them?”

Duncan’s expression darkened. “I’d end anything and anyone that tries harm you.”

For a moment she thought he was joking with her, but no, the look in his eyes was genuinely lethal. “You’re supposed to help people.”

“’Twas a monster brought these imps in here to kill you,” he told her, putting his arms around her and tucking her head under his chin. “The next time they may do worse. I shallnae sleep again now for fear of another attack on you.”

Nicole pressed her cheek against his shoulder, allowing herself to enjoy being held for a moment. She couldn’t make love with him again; it would be too cruel to share that wild pleasure when she had resolved to leave him and return to the future. It hurt to imagine sailing off and leaving him behind. He would always be alone.

Duncan’s hands moved slowly up and down her back, urging her even closer. “You tempt me, my lady, more than any woman I’ve met.”

She would step back now, and break the physical contact that had become the biggest danger to her, and yet her legs wouldn’t budge. “This is a very bad idea. We both know that. Push me away. Get out of here before it’s too late.”

He didn’t seem to hear her as he tipped up her chin and looked at her lips. “Only once more, I vow. This once.”

He bent his head before she could turn hers, and then their mouths touched. Nicole had already been kissed by him, so it wasn’t a new experience—only it was. He kissed her lightly and gently at first, tentative and perhaps caught up in the same thrall of emotions. Had anything ever been as good as that slow, soft brushing of lips, the heat and pressure of his making hers tingle? Why did his breath seem like the only air she needed ever to breathe from now on? Why was she growing so limp in his arms? This was madness, pure and simple, and yet she could not move, could not deny him.

Duncan lifted her off her feet without breaking the kiss, setting her on the edge of his exam table and then moving his hands up along her sides until his hands curved under her breasts.

Yes, yes, please, touch me. I ache for you. As long as she didn’t say it out loud she could wish as much as she wanted, and everything she would ever want was him.

“Tell me go,” he muttered, breaking off the kiss to nip the lobe of her ear. “Bid me cease, so I dinnae hurt you again when I leave.”

“I can’t.” Was she being such an idiot? Most definitely she was, and what was worse, she didn’t care. “I need you.”

Somehow he was pushing her onto her back and climbing on top of her, which made the situation go from dangerous right up to the brink of complete madness. He stood between her knees now, and the hard ridge of his erection pressed against the softness of her sex. She also seemed to be gushing with wetness down there, which told her what her body had decided it wanted.

“Do you need me inside you?” Duncan murmured as he nuzzled the side of her neck. “For ’tis my desire.”

She leaned close, putting her lips next to his ear. “Take off my panties.” She then reached around him for the laces of his trews.

Duncan first stripped off the skirt he had pushed up around her waist, and unlaced the front of the leine she wore. She was glad she hadn’t accepted Lark’s offer to make some bras for her, because while her breasts weren’t very big or prominent, they were now exposed to his gaze. She loved the way he looked at her, and the gentle way he put his hands on her, stroking the mounds and gently pinching her peaks.

“You’re so lovely,” he said, almost absently, as if he were speaking to himself instead of her.

“Come closer,” she said, and when he did she pushed his trews down, which freed the long, thick column of his penis. Clasping him in her fingers made her shiver, as his girth seemed almost intimidating. She couldn’t wait for him to come inside her. “Will you go slow for me this time?”

“Aye.” He pressed his brow to hers as he watched her caress him. “You’ll tell me if you wish me stop.”

The hard throbbing cock in her hands told her how much he wanted to fuck her. That he would ignore it for her sake made her eyes sting.

“It’s the other way around for me,” she said as she shifted forward on the table and clamped her thighs around him. “I wish you’d never stop.”

Duncan tucked an arm around her as he fisted his cock, and brought the bulging head to the slick seam of her pussy. The sensations that came as he notched himself there and then pressed in slowly made Nicole’s breath rush out of her. He was spreading and filling her so beautifully, so perfectly, exactly as she’d wanted.

“Never, ever stop,” Nicole told him before she kissed him.

The slick push of his tongue in her mouth and his cock in her pussy nearly shoved her over the edge, but she held back as he pushed in that last inch. Buried inside her, he dropped his head and kissed her shoulder, and dragged his teeth across her skin. As she climaxed helplessly a flood of images came with the delight, whisking her off to a waking dream.