Wild Highland Magic (The Celtic Legends Series Book 3)(54)

“Cairenn?”

“Come in,” she blurted, recognizing Lachlan’s voice. She ran her hands over her hair, tangled from distress, and struggled to control herself.

Lachlan stepped in, tugged the cowl off his head, and met her gaze. She drew in a sharp breath. Worry drew lines between his brows and cast a shadow in his midnight-blue eyes, like a cloud covering the stars.

She barely finished speaking his name before his arms swept around her, one hand cupping her head and the other curling around her back. She smelled the scent of the mead-hall in the fibers of his woolen cloak, sweet mead and charred wood and roasted meats. She heard nothing but the beat of his heart through the ear pressed against his chest, and for a moment, she felt blessedly right.

“All day I’ve been thinking,” he said, “that it would have been better had Ewing been my enemy.”

“You mustn’t say such things.”

“It would have set me free from the betrothal.” His grip tightened. “Can you forgive me, lass?”

“It’s not a matter for forgiveness.” She took a deep breath. “I knew what might happen when we came to these shores.”

“You were so quiet today.”

Her thoughts skittered. “Leana is very…beautiful.”

“She’s a willful half-child, spoiled as the only Ewing daughter. She is not Cairenn of Inishmaan.” He lowered his head to speak against her hair. “Cairenn of Inishmaan is the child of another realm who brings magic to my life.”

Her knees softened at his words, even as her heart squeezed at the impossibility of any real future. He must have sensed her reaction, for he pulled back to better see her face. He couldn’t know her thoughts, of course, but as he looked at her, his smile dimmed and the lines deepened between his brows.

He lifted her chin. “Something troubles you.”

She dropped her own gaze, suddenly understanding why everyone found her mind-reading so unnerving. Her thoughts skittered in a dozen directions. She couldn’t confess her true weakness. Perhaps this was just a mind-sickness that would pass in a day or two. Perhaps a good night’s sleep would cure her. It would be a cruel fate to be robbed of her gift when she finally had a use for it.

“My head aches.” The lie tasted bitter. “There was such a crowd on the walk here. Twenty of Ewing’s men, plus ours. I’m better at blocking out chatter than I used to be, but it still makes my temples throb.”

“I should have left you at Derry.” He nudged a tress of hair behind her ear. “I could have protected you from all of this.”

How far they’d come that he would swallow her lie without question. “I’d have stowed away if you’d tried.”

He laughed. Oh, how she loved the way his body vibrated against hers when he laughed.

“It won’t be long now,” he said. “We ride for the council meeting tomorrow morning.”

Her heart did a stutter-skip. “So soon?”

“Aye.” He took her face in his two hands. “Too soon, mo chridhe.”

“But…” She scrambled to find an excuse to stop a meeting of clans arranged long before she and Lachlan had even arrived in Scotland. “But there’ll be people from all clans there, yes?”

“Hundreds, from every sept.” He tilted his head. “You’re worried.”

“No.”

She spoke the word in a rising tone. His smile was as kind as her answer was uncertain.

He said, “It’s true that the council heights will be as busy as the wharf of Derry. I’ll keep you as far from the crowd as I can, but we may have to press close. The most important men will be inside the circle of sacred stones, where the—”

“Sacred stones?” She pressed her palms against his chest. “Do you mean dolmen stones?”

“Aye. On the height above Loch Fyfe is where the clan’s leaders are named and given the rod.” He drew back another measure. “I told you about that when we visited the dolmen stones on Inishmaan, remember?”

“No, no.” Her breath came fast as her thoughts raced. “I’d forgotten. I’d forgotten completely.”

“What does it matter?”

“The stones will help me.”

“Lass, I’m fonder of stones than most,” he said, “but how can they ‘help’ you in anything?”

Lost in her own thoughts she’d forgotten that he wouldn’t understand. “Dolmens—all sacred stones—have a magic of their own. They were built on places of great power and resonance, where our world and the Otherworld meet.”

He mused for a moment. “It makes sense. Our clan has crowned kings on that hilltop for as long as memory serves.”

“When I’m near the dolmen stones on Inishmaan, I can hear men’s minds so much more keenly.” Her excitement rose. “The rush of thoughts can be overwhelming, even painful.” Stories of those who disappeared, became deranged, or even died after touching the stones wisped through her mind but she pushed them aside. “Getting too close to the stones isn’t a good idea, but if I just edge toward them, the surge of power may help me make sense of the crowd.”

He raised one brow. “So that’s why you dragged me to the height that day.”