“I’m here.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Wake up, love.”
She blinked her eyes open then clutched his shirtfront. “You need to stop disappearing.”
“You’re the one who disappeared.”
“Where are—” She gasped as she stared toward land. “It’s Matheson Castle.”
“Your home?”
“Aye, although it’s so very different. I’ve seen old sketches depicting it like this. Dad has one hanging in his solar that he drew from a vision he’d had.” She glanced at Finlay and Kirk, their dark hair plastered to their faces and necks. “I’m home, or at least as my home appeared in the past. This is the ancient House of Clan Matheson.”
“You’re saying we’ve traveled through time?” Finlay shook his head. “Incredible.”
“In the future the sea-gate is farther to the right where the water is deeper.” She swung her gaze toward a village nestled along the land where it jutted to a point within the inland channel. Smoke curled into the air from several thatch-roofed houses. Cloistered tightly together, they were surrounded by a stone wall. “The village stands. It burnt to the ground in the twelve-hundreds when the MacKenzies landed on our shores and attempted to take the waterways between us and the Isle of Skye. That place is sacrosanct and remains bare except for a commemorative stone laid in honor of all those who lost their lives during the great feud of that time.”
“The MacKenzies are an allied clan of Matheson. Why would they burn the village down?” Never once during Iain’s travels on the night of a full moon had his senses ever led him here. So too his ancestor had never once spoken of the place he’d called home. The location had been kept a secret due to the prophecy.
“I can assure you we weren’t allies with the MacKenzies during the early twelve-hundreds when they attempted to take what was ours.”
“I’ve never heard of this war.”
“The Chief of MacKenzie wanted to rule these waterways. Our land sits in the prime position on the tip of Loch Alsh between the mainland and the MacDonald of Sleat’s land on the Isle of Skye. The MacKenzie chief wanted to take it all, and he attacked at the heart of our clan to do so. At the time, the MacDonalds joined forces with us to hold the MacKenzies at bay, but the additional number made no difference when they struck. The blackest day in our history was on June the eleventh, twelve-hundred and ten. That’s the day we lost the village and so many of our fae skilled people in the fires that burned.”
“Tell me all that you can about the village.”
“In the nine-hundreds, the faerie king’s youngest son visited the village along the loch and fell in love with the chief’s daughter.”
“I’m aware of that. He wed the lass and their offspring were gifted in the way of the faerie folk.”
“Aye, and during Gilleoin’s time, after he was bestowed by The Most High One with the ability to shift, he sought out his mate and was led by the full moon to the village. He claimed Sorcha as his, Nessa’s daughter, the seer who spoke the prophecy. Sorcha held the skill of aura reading and could perceive another’s true intentions. They completed the bond and formed a link of the mind.” Isla shivered as she eyed the shoreline. “We’ll need to head in. We’ve no other choice.”
“I agree. Let’s go.” Finlay struck out first. “We’re kin and that should count for something.”
Kirk fell in on the other side of Isla and together they swam in a close group. As a large wave crested, they rode it in and at knee-depth, slogged through the water into shore.
A warrior wearing a thick brown leather vest studded with bits of steel and a massive claymore holstered across his back marched toward them, several of his men at his flank. He halted and eyed him. “Ye wear the Matheson plaid. I’ll have your names.”
The warrior’s brogue was far thicker than his. He’d have to take care with his words. Easing in front of Isla, water sluicing to his booted feet, Iain palmed the hilt of his belted sword. “I’m Iain Matheson, the Chief of Matheson’s eldest son, and we come in peace.” He motioned to his brothers who stood either side of him. “This is Finlay and Kirk.”
“Ah, I see.” He nodded with a smile. “I was informed of your impending arrival, that you’re here to aid us in our coming battle against the MacKenzies. My name is Kenneth and I am the firstborn son of Gilleoin.” The warrior turned his gaze on Isla. “And who is the lass ye protect?”
“Isla, the eldest daughter of Murdock Matheson, the chief of her clan. And who exactly informed you of our arrival?”