Highlander's Magic (Highlander Heat #2)

“Once he’s seen to the threat. The guardsman who gave me Archie’s message said you were fae, and he made a wish and pulled you from the circle. You’re here to aid him in bringing an end to this war.”


“That’s right. Archie did make a wish, one I have to see through in order to return to my sister. Although as I told Archie, I’m not fae.”

“Ye do sound of another world, but fae it must be.” She gazed at her coat. “Even the white woolen weave you wear is so pure in color. ’Tis quite magical.”

“Right.” She rubbed her sleeve. The coat had cost her a pretty penny, but at least they thought her fae and not a witch. Being burnt at the stake wasn’t an option. She shuddered. No, that couldn’t happen. Still, at some point in time she’d have to find a way to impart the truth, in the best way she could.

“We need your magic.” Mary nodded as if trying to reassure her. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“I’ll do everything I can to help.” This was the woman who’d bequeathed her the amulet. Mary too was both a MacLean and a MacDonald as she was. She lowered to her knees and gripped Mary’s hands. Her ancestor was real, and right here before her. “For so long I’ve wanted to know more about you, why you would—” Okay, she probably shouldn’t rush into this. She needed to take care considering this time period, and Mary’s condition.

Frowning, Mary leaned forward. “You’ve wanted to know more about what? Please, speak freely. Whatever I can do to aid the fae, I will.”

“Let me show you something first. That might help a little.” She tugged Mary to the window. If you look, you’ll see your amulet lying on the center stone in the circle. I came through the circle, although not from his time. I’m not a witch or a fae, but from the future. You gifted your amulet to me, and you had it passed down along your eldest daughter’s line until it once again came into a MacLean’s possession.”

Her frown deepened. “Nay. Why would I do such a thing?”

“You left instructions for me to return the amulet to Islay, to this place right here. My father was born from Lachlan MacLean’s paternal line, one of his youngest sons. I received your talisman on my twenty-first birthday.”

Mary’s blue eyes, the same shade as hers and Katherine’s, softened. “Marie, there is no future until it arrives.” She squeezed her hands. “I’d no’ hurt one of the fae. You need only speak the truth with me.”

Mary clearly couldn’t conceive the possibility any more than Archie had. Time travel and coming from the future wasn’t something she’d believe either if the positions were reversed. Still, she’d keep pressing, but slow and easy. Maybe in time they’d see she spoke the truth.

Mary rubbed her swollen belly. “The bairn kicks strong this eve.”

“When is your baby due?”

“A month, mayhap less. This one shall be a boy and as strong as his father.” Her gaze drifted out the window. “Angus will return, and whatever I can do to aid you with Archie’s wish, you need only ask.”

Knowledge was power, and Mary had been the one to bring her back to the past. “I’ve studied this time, but records weren’t exactly well-kept. More often than not, only major events drew an actual recording, and even those were open to the writer’s interpretation. Legends were passed down from family members, but again they could be skewered in the teller’s favor. Will you tell me about this feud and Lachlan MacLean?”

“My, my. The fae have a strange way of speaking. Studied this time? Legends? We are in the present, my dear.”

Which was fifteen-hundred and ninety. “Can you tell me how this feud between the clans started?”

“Aye. ’Twas five years past. Donald MacDonald sailed here to visit Angus. They’re brothers and quite close.” She eased onto the end of Archie’s massive bed covered with a brown and blue wool patchwork blanket then patted the spot beside her.

“I’ve heard of the Chief of Sleat.” She joined Mary. “He’s a tough warrior.”

“As are all the chiefs of these Western Isles.” She clasped her hands. “Afore Donald and his men arrived here, they were forced to take shelter in Jura as a storm passed through. That’s when our troubles began. Donald landed on my brother’s portion of the isle, and in the dead of night, he and his men were viciously attacked by Lachlan and his warriors.”

“Why would Lachlan attack when they were only seeking shelter?”

“Terreagh MacDonald had a grudge against Donald, and that night he used Donald’s arrival on Lachlan’s land to his advantage.”

“One of your own clan betrayed their chief?” And to a MacLean no less.

“Aye, ’twas Terreagh who carried off with some of Lachlan’s cattle, then turned coat and informed Lachlan it had been Donald’s doing.”

“How bad was the attack?”

“Donald lost sixty men. Many were sleeping when the MacLeans snuck into camp. ’Twas a terrible slaughter.”

“But Donald survived?” Clearly, he had since he was now imprisoned in Edinburgh.