Highlander's Caress (The Fae #2)
Joanne Wadsworth
The Fae Village
In the ninth century, the faerie king’s youngest son visited a village along the shores of Loch Alsh and fell in love with the chief’s daughter. The two wed and together created a half-blooded line born with the skills of the fae, a loyal line known as clan Matheson, a line guarded by the immortal fae princess, Cherub.
Duncan MacKenzie
The Isle of Skye, Scotland, 1211.
“Lower the sail. All to oars.” In the dark of the night, Duncan MacKenzie stood at the helm of his war galley as his men saw to his orders. The sail swished down, and they slashed their oars into the deep waters of Loch Eishort, the wind rushing all around as they cruised ever closer toward Dunscaith Castle, the stronghold of his fiercest enemy.
A horn blasted across the bay, one loud and eerie peal, the point watchman clearly catching their arrival even under the blackness of the night sky. A second blast shrilled even louder and Duncan gritted his teeth. He’d tried to hide his arrival for as long as he could, but now the Chief of MacDonald would surely know his enemy approached, with absolute certainty.
At the stern, he fisted the hilt of his great two-handed claymore sitting snug at his side while up ahead, Dunscaith rose out of the dark, standing tall and strong on a low headland farther along the curve of the bay. The Fortress of Shadows ’twas called. An apt name, the castle always hidden within the murky shadows of the night each time he’d visited. Even now, only the merest touch of candlelight flickered ghostlike from the tower windows, the hefty swell of the sea surging in and battering the cliff-face rising high all around the heavily fortified keep.
With the stronghold built on an off-shore rock connected to the Isle of Skye by a walled bridge that spanned a gap of twenty feet or so, this fortress was near impenetrable. Only a sliver of pebbly sand sat to one side where the sea-gate butted into the stronghold, the guardsmen patrolling the battlements high above able to see with a bird’s eye view out across the bay and along Skye’s coastline to the west.
At the bow, his squire sat with wide eyes on the dreaded keep, the white flag he’d handed the lad when they’d set out earlier this night clenched tight in his fist.
Their time had arrived. He strode up the aisle and halted as he came abreast of Hamish standing at the center mast. Around him, his men continued to power through the rolling waves, their breath heaving and strength immense as they sent their galley cruising swiftly toward their destination. No hesitation. He had none either.
“I dinnae see this trip ending well.” Hamish, his second-in-command, eyed him, his man one of the full-blooded fae who held “the sight.” Hamish received visions whenever harm was about to befall them, had been instrumental in ensuring all had gone well for Duncan and his men of late.
“My father has been at war with the MacDonald for far too long, as have I. ’Tis time to lay our disputes to rest.”
“The MacDonald has no desire for peace talks. He wants to rule these isles and all within them.”
“A marriage of alliance could end our warring.” His father had put the proposal toward him, asked him to take it to the MacDonald.
“You too hold fae blood.” Hamish lowered his voice, his words traveling no farther than him. “One day you might discover you’re mated, and then there will be naught you can do about claiming the lass if you’ve gone and wed yourself to another.”
“I would have sensed the bond taking form afore now if I were in fact mated.” He kept his voice low as well. On board none knew of his fae blood which had come to him through his mother’s Matheson line, a mother he’d never known, would never know.
“That isnae always the way of the bond. We can only sense our chosen one once we’ve met them.”
“Then I’d have to set foot on Matheson land for that to occur, which I’ve only done once in all my years.” With one hand raised, he motioned to his squire and gave him the signal to wave the white flag.
At the edge of the sea-gate, a guardsman caught the fluttering cloth on the long stick as the lad thrust it from side to side. The guard hailed a warning shout to the sentry on the winding stairs, the man echoing the shout to the head guardsman on the ramparts above.
“Our time has come.” Duncan drew in a long, fortifying breath. “Let’s see if we can make it past their welcoming party.”
“I’ll be right beside you every step of the way.”