Forged in Dreams and Magick (Highland Legends #1)(9)
My mouth dropped open. Although I’d read about it being true—their barbaric ways and the lack of say women had—it didn’t prepare me for the outrage I felt when I’d become one of the said women with no control. I shook my head.
“You either accept my claim and protection, or you will be forced to submit to another.”
I couldn’t breathe. The small space, the stench of burning animal fat, and his alarming words choked all of the air out of my lungs. I found myself gasping for the smallest amount of oxygen as I turned and fled the room, yanking the heavy door open with strength born from the adrenaline coursing through my veins.
Fresh air and warm sunshine invaded my senses. I stumbled out onto a feathery dusting of snow covering a patch of young grass breaking free from the ground. A single golden buttercup at my feet angled toward the sky. My vision followed the ground down to a field enclosed by a high stone wall. Soldiers dressed in kilts—and nothing else—sparred with swords, the clash of metal ringing through the courtyard. Women carried baskets between small thatched cottages on the periphery of the compound. In a field beyond, children ran back and forth, carrying sticks with colorful ribbons flying from the ends. I turned around and looked up the side of an enormous stone tower connected to the small room I’d emerged from only seconds ago.
My gaze fell back onto Iain, who stood outside the doorway, leaning against the gray stone. My only guide in this foreign place was an ancient warrior–laird whom otherworldly forces had decided would be my mate in life. And in spite of knowing my state of shock, he had the nerve to stand there with a hard expression on his face.
To hell with it. I turned and marched down the hill toward the women and children. My pace rapidly picked up speed until I found myself running down the incline, its steepness aiding my acceleration. The wind battered my face, fanning the tears streaming across my cheeks.
All I wanted was to gain freedom from the prison in my mind. I wanted to go home. My journey began with a box Iain thought had found me. I wished I’d never seen the cursed thing.
Never in all my life had I been out of control of my fate. Every step of the way, every decision I’d ever made, happened because I chose to go left or right when the winding road forked. I wiped away the tears clouding my eyes as I reached the end of the cottages. The bluff I now stood on overlooked the curtain wall that protectively surrounded the clan within, and I stared into the vastness of the Highlands. As far as the eye could see stretched meadow bordered by forest. The entire scene was framed by rugged gray mountains capped in snow that touched the heavens above in a cotton-clouded blue sky. The enormous panorama made me feel small and powerless.
Something held me rooted to the ground. I’d never shrunk in fear, always relishing a challenge to overcome, so my intrinsic nature won out over spontaneous instinctual flight. I spun around and viewed the entire clan from atop the knoll. The castle, on the rise of a great hill, marked itself as protector over her family. Iain stood proudly in a wide stance, arms crossed over his chest, a few steps away from where he’d last been, staring straight at me.
I took a deep breath, recognizing what I’d known all along in my life. The truth had been hiding under the surface of every turn I’d made, but I’d never been forced to examine the mechanics of why things happened the way they did—until now. No matter how much control I’d ever thought I’d had, it had only ever been a multiple-choice question.
The Universe had a plan for me, and at the moment, Iain served as its mouthpiece. I could accept my fate the easy way or the hard way. It appeared to me, denial of my present circumstances or not, I had a decision to make.
Control had always been a matter of perception. Accepting those things I had no power over was a first step toward feeling like I at least had my hands on the steering wheel, even if I had to stay on the paved road. Dorothy had to follow her yellow-bricked path, and in a way, I had my destiny laid out before me, even if nothing appeared golden about it. She had to skirt dangers, villains, and fantasy beyond her belief system to find her way home, and if that teenaged braided girl could do it in her land of OZ, so could I.
I glared at the arrogant man who’d had a hand in delivering me the message by bringing me here, but don’t kill the messenger rang out in my head, and I smiled.
“Oh, Iain. You think you know me, but you know nothing at all.” My voice purred from my throat. I placed my hands on my hips, making a decision. “I’ve never chosen the easy way. You are going to learn that the hard way.”
CHAPTER Four
Highlands of Scotland—Thirteenth Century
When one runs away in denial from something feared to be true, the journey back to reality—no matter how unbelievable—becomes a slow and painful passage.
I sighed, reconciled to my course, absorbing every detail with wary eyes. Landscape obscured by tears when I’d run from my fate revealed itself. Midday’s sun cast a melting glow on a rogue sprinkling of snow while signs of spring bloomed everywhere: from early wildflowers defying the late powdery topping, to people exploiting the brilliant day with focused determination.
Women wore frocks to their toes in brighter colors than I’d imagined. I looked down at my straight, ankle-length flannel skirt. Damn. Good thing I’d passed on the leather mini my fingers had lovingly stroked in the closet that morning. I snorted at the irony of wearing plaid. Even my wardrobe seemed to have known where I’d be today. A chilling breeze coaxed me to stretch the cuffs of my sweater protectively over my fingers as I trekked with leaden feet back toward Iain.