Rosalyn stood alone in her chamber, wondering how a person prepared for handfasting. She knew from a couple of weddings she had attended in London what was involved there, but handfasting was new to her. She moved to the wardrobe and opened it, trying to decide which of her five gowns she would wear.
A knock sounded on the door. “Come in,” she said, welcoming the distraction.
Gwendolyn appeared, followed by a man carrying a copper hip bath, and three others carrying pails of steaming water. “Keiran asked to have a bath sent up to you. And I am here to help you prepare for this evening.” It was then that Rosalyn noticed the length of tartan in Gwendolyn’s hands, along with a bath sheet. She set the items on the bed.
“Place the bath near the fire,” Gwendolyn directed the men. As soon as they finished filling the bath, they departed the chamber, closing the door behind them. “Quickly now,” Gwendolyn said, coming to help unlace Rosalyn’s gown. “Let us remove your riding clothes and get you in that water before it cools. We have plenty of work to do and little time to do it in to prepare you for joining your life to Keiran’s.”
She paused in working the laces and placed a hand on Rosalyn’s arm. “We are all so pleased to have you become a part of our family.”
“Only for a short time.” Rosalyn swallowed roughly. “We have made no more commitment to each other than that.”
Gwendolyn squeezed Rosalyn’s arm. “Give it time. You will have lots of that in the next year.”
Rosalyn soon found herself in the bath while Gwendolyn gathered garments for Rosalyn to dress in afterwards. It felt good to wash the travel dirt from her skin and hair in the heather-scented water. Weary from travel, she leaned back against the copper tub, wanting to forget about Lieutenant Long and even Oberon. The appearance of the fairy king had seemed to startle Keiran. Was it because the fairy had come into the human realm or was there something more that he had yet to tell her about his time in Fairyland?
As she relaxed, her thoughts turned to Keiran. When she had died on the day they met and she had hovered over her body, God had shown her that he was a good man. But all the years of being told that he was her enemy had made her look for further proof. Over the last six days, he had shown her in so many ways that her first impression of him was correct. Soon, she would bind her life to his, and find either immense happiness or deep sorrow. Only time would reveal that outcome.
“The water has chilled. Come, let us get you dressed,” Gwendolyn said, approaching the tub with a bath sheet for Rosalyn to wrap herself in.
After Rosalyn dried herself and her hair, Gwendolyn held out a fresh white chemise with lace at the edge of the sleeves. She slipped it over Rosalyn’s head, then set to positioning the stays. When they were in place and tight against her chest and waist, Gwendolyn lifted Rosalyn’s hem, handing her a pair of stockings and slippers. “Put these on.”
Completing that task, Rosalyn then reached for the sheath that contained her dagger, fastening it at her thigh.
Gwendolyn’s eyes went wide. “You will not need that tonight.”
Rosalyn frowned. “Isolde said I should keep this on me no matter what.” She tightened the fasteners before shifting her skirts down.
Gwendolyn shook her head as she turned to pick up a beautiful dark brown damask dress. “Now, for one of your new gowns.” She tossed it over Rosalyn’s head. After it floated down to her hips, the young woman tied the gown at the back, cinching Rosalyn’s waist.
“You look lovely,” Gwendolyn said with a smile. “Now we must do something with your hair.” She guided Rosalyn to a chair in front of the fire, then set to brushing out her still-damp hair until it was sufficiently dry. She gathered Rosalyn’s hair up high and coiled it into a knot, and secured it with pins, before pulling some curls loose to cascade down from the top. When she was done, she came around to study Rosalyn and said, “I almost forgot the most important part.” She hurried back to the bed and returned with the length of tartan. Encouraging Rosalyn to stand, she fastened the tartan about her waist. “Perfect. Come look at yourself in the polished glass.”
Rosalyn moved to the long mirror in the corner of the chamber. The skirts of her dress belled out, making Rosalyn’s waist look small. The tight stays lifted her breasts high so that the swell of them breached the neckline of her dress. The tartan that flowed over her hips made her feel somehow connected to the clan she was about to join, however temporarily. “Thank you, Gwendolyn. Please thank your seamstress for me. This gown is simple, yet stunning.”
“I would argue that the woman makes the gown stunning, not the other way around. Keiran is a lucky man.” Gwendolyn moved to the window and looked outside. “Everyone has gathered in the rear courtyard and the sun is setting. We had best be on our way down.”
Gwendolyn walked down the stairs before Rosalyn, looking back over her shoulder with an encouraging smile. As they made their way to the back courtyard, the hum of voices sounded. “We should wait here at the doorway until the piper begins.”
Rosalyn reached for Gwendolyn’s hand, squeezing it. “I truly appreciate all you have done to help me. I never expected such kindness from anyone after the death of my parents.”
Gwendolyn’s face softened as she leaned in and kissed Rosalyn’s cheek. “I learned from my own unfortunate experiences that where there is life, there is hope. Stay hopeful and trust Keiran, Rosalyn. That is all I ask of you.”
Rosalyn felt her throat tighten as she turned her gaze towards those gathered outside. She could see Keiran standing near the crenellated wall with his brothers. Behind him the last rays of the sun lingered on the horizon, staining the loch a golden orange that bled into a dusky rose and smoky plum. Dusk was upon them, a pause before the moon would dominate the night sky. A moment later, the skirl of a bagpipe drifted upon the night air in a seductive serenade.
“’Tis time,” Gwendolyn said, leading Rosalyn to the doorway where Keiran had come forward to wait for her.
Her heartbeat thudded wildly at the sight of Keiran, tall and handsome in a fresh white shirt and green and blue tartan with thin lines of yellow and red. At the sight of her, a look of appreciation entered his eyes. He held out his hand and she slipped her trembling right hand into his. The piper’s song died down, leaving only the silence of the near-night as Keiran wrapped his strong fingers around her own. Standing so close, she could smell the hint of fresh, clean soap lingering on his skin, and feel the warmth radiating from his nearness.
With his free hand, he reached into his sporran and withdrew a length of red cord. “I wish to bind myself to you, Rosalyn, for a year and a day.” He placed the red cord over their entwined hands.
A shiver moved through Rosalyn at the feel of the cord as Keiran wrapped the length around their joined hands three times. “To keep you safe and protect you from harm.”
Even though she bristled at the word “protect”, she realised that as a warrior, that was who he was, who he had been born to become in this clan. He would protect her as he did the rest of his family. There was nothing more to his words than that. At her hesitation, a spark of uncertainty entered his gaze. “Will you also pledge yourself to me?”
At that small hint of vulnerability, all her reservations faded. That brief glimpse into his soul reminded her of why they were here in this moment. They were so alike, the two of them. She might have less control over her life as a female than he did as a male. But when the fairies had stolen him from his cradle, he’d also had little control over his life. In the last few days, they had been both working hard to regain what they had lost.
She tightened her hand on his, hoping to say without words that she recognised his sacrifice for her benefit. “I wish to bind myself to you, to be the helpmate you deserve, for a year and a day.” Rosalyn stared down at the red cord between them. Red. The colour of courage, strength, and passion. The last thought sent a surge of heat through her body that culminated in her belly.
Standing nearby, Alastair smiled and raised their joined hands. “With this cord, the two of you have bound your lives into one.” Alastair shifted his gaze between the two of them. “Rosalyn and Keiran, with the Lord and these good people as your witnesses, your lives are joined. May the next year find you bound in spirit as you are now bound in life.”
When Alastair finished speaking, Keiran drew their joined hands back, and leaning forward, he pressed a kiss, feather-light, across the back of her hand. “I pledge you my life,” he said with steely resolve.
His life but not his love. The words brought an ache to Rosalyn’s chest. She forced the feeling away. Love was not what this binding was about. It was about protection. She could not deny that she needed his protection. It was comforting to know she would not have to stand alone against whatever Lieutenant Long would bring along with his regiment to Dunvegan eventually.
A cheer rose up from those gathered. A moment later, the skirl of the bagpipe sounded, filling the night air with joy and merriment. The beat of a drum and dulcet tones of Callum on his mandolin joined the piper. Instead of looking at Keiran, Rosalyn kept her gaze on the cord that bound them. “Should we not remove the cord now that the deed is done?”
With a finger beneath her chin, Keiran lifted her gaze to his. A sizzle of heat slipped from his skin to hers. “The cord usually remains in place until our bond is consummated.” His smouldering gaze dropped to her lips, and Rosalyn felt her body ignite.
Somewhere in the back of her mind she’d known that was where handfasting would lead. She trusted Keiran, and he trusted her, but was she ready to give herself to him fully? Though her body warmed at his nearness, though her hands longed to reach out and touch him, she held back.
Sensing her hesitation, Keiran released her chin to stroke his finger along her cheek, then curled it in a tendril of her unbound hair. Her body tingled, as if a spark had ignited between them. His touch opened something inside her, a recognition from deep within, that what they had was something special, almost magical. She stared up at him as moonlight shone on his features, giving him an ethereal look that assured her she could trust him with her mind and her body. “Keiran, I—”
A giant sucking sound filled the air. The musicians stopped playing and everyone turned towards the loch and Little Minch beyond. In horror, they watched the water roll back, leaving a huge expanse of empty beach. In the far distance, a huge wave swelled, glittering in the moonlight, appearing like a wall that stretched from the sea to the sky.
“Everyone, inside the castle!” Alastair shouted.
“What is it? What is happening?” Rosalyn asked, fear lacing her voice.
“Go inside.” Keiran quickly unwrapped the cord from their hands and set her away from himself. “Go inside. I beg you.”
At the fear in his voice, pain tightened Rosalyn’s chest. “Does this have something to do with Oberon? The fairy I saw earlier today?”
He nodded. “He means to kill us all. Please, help the others and seek safety inside.”
Rosalyn doubted a wave that massive would spare the castle or anyone inside it. A low rumbling built, and the wind swirled around them as those gathered in the courtyard swarmed towards the doorway.
“Please, Rosalyn.” His voice was harsh and strained. “I could not bear it if something happened to you.”
Startled by the desperation in his words, she hesitated, and noted that Aria and two other cloaked figures remained in the courtyard, their hands outstretched as though fighting the inevitable rush of the water that would consume them all.
“I must help Aria, Pearl, and Gille. The four of us might be able to undo what Oberon has set in motion.”
She finally nodded and headed for the doorway that Graeme held open for her. “Hurry,” he yelled as the temperature suddenly dropped and a mist appeared between herself and the door.
The mist rose from the ground, then slithered and coiled, releasing a pale light that cut through the silvery darkness.
Rosalyn stopped as her breath quickened, and fear wended though her. The mist grew brighter, like pale snow against a canvas of black, painting the silhouette of a masculine form where there had once been nothing. The form swirled, becoming a twisting, dancing light before solidifying into the being she had seen in the fairy circle earlier today. Fear rose up inside her as his startling blue gaze connected with hers and then Keiran’s.
Keiran kept his gaze fixed on the fairy king. “What do you want?”
“What do I want? Where should I begin?” Oberon laughed dismissively as one eyebrow winged up. “You of all people should know. How dare you try to send me into oblivion. It almost worked, you know. If I had not grabbed one of the sprites and taken her with me, I would have had no power to bring myself back. Fortunately for me, and unfortunately for the sprite, it was just enough magic to land me deep in the shadow realm instead. Now all of you who conspired against me shall feel my wrath.” His features tightened and his blue eyes flashed with temper.
Every muscle in Keiran’s body tightened, coiled, as if he were preparing to spring into attack. “You have no business here in the human realm. Leave now and there will be no trouble.”
Rosalyn’s fingers tightened. She had read stories about Oberon as a mischievous fairy, meddling in the lives of others. But unlike the stories, Rosalyn could sense something dangerous building inside this fairy. Magic flared in his eyes and shimmered around him in a dark red haze as if it were all too much for his body to contain. The wind kicked up, howling, swirling around those who remained in the rear courtyard. Water dripped from the stone wall surrounding them as spray from the wave condensed.
“The only way I will leave here is with the Fairy Flag. Give it to me or everyone you know and love will die.”
Keiran looked behind him to the wall of water that Aria and the others were just managing to keep at bay. “The flag is not mine to give.”
“But it is mine.” Alastair’s voice came from behind them. They turned to see the laird and Graeme had stepped from the relative safety of the castle.
Graeme clutched the Fairy Flag in his hands. “If I wave this flag, the fairy legions will have no choice but to come to the aid of the MacLeods.”
Oberon’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “And pull you back to Fairyland for all eternity.”
“That is a debt I am willing to pay if it keeps everyone else safe.” Graeme raised his arms, ready to unfurl the flag and send it waving in the wind.
In that moment, Keiran charged, hitting Oberon in the chest with his shoulders and taking him down to the ground. With a howl of rage, Oberon disappeared.
Graeme arrested his movements, halting the use of the flag’s last miracle. He released a harsh breath, so great was his relief. “Praise the saints that I did not have to use the flag.” As the flag’s guardian, once the last bit of magic had been used, Graeme would have been drawn back to Fairyland where he would remain as a prisoner for the rest of his life. It was what the magic of the flag demanded of its flag bearers. And the Duffs had held that position for the MacLeods since the flag had been gifted to them centuries ago.
Alastair helped Keiran to his feet, saying, “I, too, am grateful.”
“I was certain—” Rosalyn’s voice clouded with tears.
“As was I.” Keiran wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close.
In the distance, the wave collapsed, sending a rush of water to crash against the rocky shoreline, but sparing the castle and all those inside its stone walls. Once the roar of the water died down and the loch settled, the waves once again lapped at the shore. The normal sounds of nature returned as though they had never been threatened, with a soft hooting of owls, and the chirping of crickets. And the moon shone down on the castle as it had for centuries.
Aria and the two cloaked figures came to join the rest of them. “Rosalyn, may I introduce you to my sister, Gille, and my mother, Pearl.”
Rosalyn smiled at the women who lowered their hoods, exposing their red hair. “Based on how they were able to help you keep that wave away from shore, I assume they also have magic?”
Aria nodded as she went into Graeme’s arms. “Mother, Gille, we are so grateful you arrived when you did. How did you know we would need your help?”
“We saw the fire in the village,” the younger redhead said. Her face was partially hidden by her hair, but Rosalyn could tell that Gille looked nothing like her beautiful sister. Her features were a bit too angular to be considered alluring, with her slightly pointed chin and cheekbones. But these very angles hinted at an elegance to come, like a rosebud before it bloomed. “We also sensed Oberon’s return.”
“After we put out the flames, we headed here to warn you about Oberon,” Pearl said, her bearing regal. Rosalyn could easily imagine her as the fairy princess from the stories Keiran had told her about the woman who had gifted them with the Fairy Flag.
Silence settled over them as they each reflected on what had transpired. Keiran curled Rosalyn against the warmth of his body. As their heartbeats returned to normal, he broke the silence. “This battle is not over yet.”
“I can still feel Oberon’s presence on the back of my neck,” Aria said, straightening. “Yet we have no idea where he is.”
“He must be close, and could pounce on us at any hour,” Alastair said, his voice harsh and strained.
Keiran frowned, releasing Rosalyn’s waist and shifting his gaze between Alastair and Graeme. “Enough. You are thinking like sheep staked out for a pack of wolves. We have power of our own to use against Oberon.”
“Keiran is right.” Graeme nodded. “We must stop reacting as Oberon expects us to. Four of us have fairy magic, and the rest of us are a mighty force on our own.”
“It is not only Oberon who threatens us,” Alastair reminded them.
Aria’s gaze lifted to sweep the surrounding area, searching, as always, for a potential threat. “I suspect Oberon predicts we will use our magic against him as we did before, while the English will expect us to come charging into battle, with tempers high and swords drawn.”
“Then we should do the opposite,” Keiran suggested.
“We are mighty when we choose to be. There is no one better than you at methodical planning, Alastair,” Graeme said with a hint of a smile. “Or Tormod, at garnering brute force from our men. Orrick and Aria are skilled warriors, and although Callum is untested, he has shown great promise.”
Alastair nodded. “Let us gather first thing in the morning and make our plans when we are rested. ’Tis time for us to turn the tables and become the hunters instead of the prey.”
The tension that had come over the men since Oberon’s appearance eased. Yet the tension coiling inside Rosalyn increased as Keiran once again shifted his gaze to her. The anger that had momentarily been in his eyes faded, replaced by something darker, more sensual. And honeyed heat flared within her.
Keiran reached for her hand when the others turned and headed back to the keep. His fingers wrapped around hers. His warmth radiated through her body. For a long second, he looked down at her. The moonlight outlined the planes of his face, of his lean muscular body, before he took a step closer, creating a startling intimacy.
He was so close, and yet not close enough. What was it about this man that had captivated her so? Did she feel a connection to him because he had healed her? Or was it because she had seen his true spirit when she had died and left her body? Or was it the way he held her hand? The way his lips moulded so perfectly to her own? Or the gentleness he always showed her when her life had been nothing but neglect and cruelty before he had come along?
“Your hands are warm,” he whispered into the night.
Warm? They were melting at his touch. She swallowed roughly as he smoothed his fingers across her palm, her wrist, her forearm, bringing excitement, heat, and hunger.
“Our binding has been removed; though not our obligation to each other. Keiran’s gaze was unwavering yet inviting, holding the promise of mysteries yet to be revealed.
Rosalyn’s breath faltered as her sense of self-preservation warred with her blossoming desire. A small voice inside her urged her to remain where she stood, that she would end up like her parents if she gave herself over to the passion between them. Another voice reminded her that she and Keiran had joined their lives, no matter how temporarily, and that appeasing passion was her due. If she wanted it.
And heaven help her, she wanted it.
Rosalyn drew a breath and nodded, allowing him to lead her into the castle and up the stairs to his bedchamber.