Page 5 of Her Scot of Bygones
I was back in the same forest awash in purple twilight, only this time my vision flashed bright green before the trees swirled as if I were being sucked away in a kaleidoscope. Half a breath later, a firelit cave and a man appeared.
Not any man, either.
He was a tall, broad-shouldered, muscular Adonis-looking warrior with chiseled, bearded, blonde features, making him look like he stepped out of a fairytale.
This was no fairy tale, though.
Not at all.
If anything, it was cold, hard reality, however skewed across the centuries, because, complete with a léine, a red and black plaid, and heavy black boots, he was every inch a medieval Scotsman.
“’Tisye,” he murmured roughly, his brogue thicker than before as his eyes simmered down from the same fiery dragoneyes I had seen in the darkness to a rich cobalt blue a woman could lose herself in.
Eyes that were currently narrowed on me.
“Who?” I managed weakly, surprised by my dry throat, given how diluted my whisky was earlier. Was he referring to Willow again? Should I keep up the charade, considering he thought I was her, or might that put her in harm’s way?
“Ye.” He cleared his throat. “You.” Shaking his head, he searched my eyes. “Do you not recognize me because we have crossed paths before. I cannae say where, but I have seen your eyes…knowyour eyes.”
More and more aware of the desolate cave and monstrous bed I was so vulnerable in, I swallowed hard, shook my head, and scurried back against the headboard with nothing but a fur blanket to protect myself with. Though my throat was dry and my voice shaky, I managed to keep speaking. “Rest assured, there’s no way we know each other because, as you know full well, having justkidnappedme,I’m not from here.”
Seemingly startled by my distress, he blinked and took a step back, as if that would make him any less intimidating. It didn’t help, given the multiple blades strapped to him, not to mention the monstrous sword resting nearby.
“’Twas not kidnapping, Willow.” He gestured at a wooden cup resting on a small table beside the bed. “Drink. Please.”
I frowned at the cup, not trusting it or him. “No.”
“’Twill help your throat.” Seeming to understand his very being intimidated me, he sank into a chair near the bed and introduced himself. “My name is Lucas MacLeod. I’m cousin to Laird Broderick MacLeod, your sister Aspen’s fated mate.” As if catching my thoughts, he began setting aside his blades. “My sole purpose in bringing you here is to protect you from our enemy, Dugal Sutherland and his treacherous clan.” His eyebrow swept up. “Can I assume Adlin MacLomain enlightenedyou about what transpired with Aspen and Broderick and the pact we are trying to protect you from?”
“He has,” I said softly, not trusting my voice enough to speak much louder.
Adlin had shared enough for me to know I was with the impulsive cousin who tended to act before thinking. The very opposite of me in all ways possible. Most certainly, the opposite of the routine and consistency I so cherished. “And it didn’t involve being taken against my will by anyone, let alone a MacLeod.”
“’Tis not against your will,” he denied.
“Isn’t it, though?” I countered. “Seeing how you grabbed me out of my own home, no less, without my permission or my sister being any the wiser.”
His eyes narrowed. “Are you speaking within the mind to Aspen then?”
“So Aspen doesn’t know either?” I exclaimed.
“Nay.” He frowned. “Who were you talking about?”
“Nobody,” I replied, trying to protect Willow’s whereabouts because who knew what Lucas was capable of. Would he kidnap Willow, too, and tuck us both away wherever this was? He had called it his dragon’s lair, which didn’t sound promising.
“Och, clearly you spoke of someone.” He kept frowning. “Is that why I was bombarded with nuts from your willow tree?”
Huh?I furrowed my brow in confusion and shook my head no to the cup of water when he nudged it closer to me. “What nuts?”
“I dinnae know.” He felt around in his plaid until he pulled something free and held it out. “’Twas one of these.”
I stared at the hazelnut in his palm and decided to play dumb. “I’ve never seen anything like it before.”
He surprised me when his eyebrows shot up. “You lie.”
“I don’t.”
“You do.” It almost seemed as if he read my mind when his attention fell to the nut. “’Tis ahazelnut, aye?” His gaze slowly rose to me, and confusion warred with recognition. “One of many that kept me away from the front door and led me straight to you. ‘Tis a strange thing for a willow tree to do…” His eyes narrowed again as the truth occurred to him. “Unless ‘twas not really a willow after all but a hazel tree…leading me to the lass named after it.”
