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Highland Sword
Ruth Langan
A Witch, A Warrior And The Wilds Of Scotland…!'Twas like a quest out of legend, Merrick MacAndrew knew, but he would risk anything to save his dying son–even kidnapping Allegra Drummond, whose mystical healing talents ran apace with her power to set his heart ablaze!What enchantment, this? A giant of a Highland lord had torn Allegra Drummond from idyllic seclusion to do his bidding! No matter that his reasons were noble, rousing her compassion and concern. Merrick MacAndrew had used a life-transforming magic of his own to bind her to him forever–heart, body and soul!


“Are you a witch to be feared?”
She looked up and he felt the smoldering heat of her anger. “Are you like all the others, my lord? Eager to use my gifts when it suits your purpose, then resorting to cruel names to brand me different?”
He reached for his goblet, avoiding her eyes. Her words were too close to the mark, and shamed him. But he’d be damned if he’d ask forgiveness of this…this tart-tongued female.
“We waste time talking, woman. We’ll eat, and then you can return your attention to my son.”
Allegra shivered as cold settled into her bones. Whatever tenuous truce they’d attempted, it had dissolved like the wisps of fog that often drifted over the Enchanted Loch until banished by the sun.
The man across the table was once more the demanding lord. And she, like it or not, his unwilling captive.
Highland Sword
Harlequin Historical #654
Acclaim for USA TODAY bestselling author
Ruth Langan
“Ruth Langan is a true master at involving your
emotions, be they laughter or tears.”
—Romantic Times
“…another tautly written, fast-paced and sensual
romance. A fine example of why this author is
such a successful romance writer.”
—Romance Reviews Today on The Sea Sprite
“Ruth Langan makes us believe in the beauty
of true love.”
—Romantic Times
“…characters so incredibly human the reader
will expect them to come over for tea.”
—Affaire de Coeur
#651 LADY ALLERTON’S WAGER
Nicola Cornick
#652 MCKINNON’S BRIDE
Sharon Harlow
#653 ADAM’S PROMISE
Julianne MacLean
Highland Sword
Ruth Langan


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Available from Harlequin Historicals and
RUTH LANGAN
Mistress of the Seas#10
† (#litres_trial_promo)Texas Heart#31
* (#litres_trial_promo)Highland Barbarian#41
* (#litres_trial_promo)Highland Heather#65
* (#litres_trial_promo)Highland Fire#91
* (#litres_trial_promo)Highland Heart#111
† (#litres_trial_promo)Texas Healer#131
Christmas Miracle#147
† (#litres_trial_promo)Texas Hero#180
Deception#196
* (#litres_trial_promo)The Highlander#228
Angel#245
* (#litres_trial_promo)Highland Heaven#269
** (#litres_trial_promo)Diamond#305
Dulcie’s Gift#324
** (#litres_trial_promo)Pearl#329
** (#litres_trial_promo)Jade#352
** (#litres_trial_promo)Ruby#384
Malachite#407
The Courtship of Izzy McCree#425
Blackthorne#435
§ (#litres_trial_promo)Rory#457
§ (#litres_trial_promo)Conor#468
§ (#litres_trial_promo)Briana#480
One Christmas Night#487
“Highland Christmas”
‡ (#litres_trial_promo)The Sea Witch#523
‡ (#litres_trial_promo)The Sea Nymph#545
‡ (#litres_trial_promo)The Sea Sprite#565
†† (#litres_trial_promo)Badlands Law#620
†† (#litres_trial_promo)Badlands Legend#628
†† (#litres_trial_promo)Badlands Heart#636
◊ (#litres_trial_promo)Highland Sword#654
Other works include:
Outlaw Brides
“Maverick Hearts”
Harlequin Historicals Christmas Stories 1990
“Christmas at Bitter Creek”
For Maureen, who puts the bubbles in champagne to shame.
And of course for Tom. Always.

Contents
Prologue (#u69013da2-5ef0-54c0-a2a8-faf4a425d846)
Chapter One (#ua6e0a535-843a-5296-b156-719aed8c0db0)
Chapter Two (#u68903bfe-1ae7-5e6c-aa3f-5a03b863702e)
Chapter Three (#u0b9d0bf4-81c0-53b7-947c-d2a7d5f08892)
Chapter Four (#u73ac308b-f8f4-51c4-b048-1e680e409096)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nineteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twenty (#litres_trial_promo)

Prologue
Scotland—1540
The pewter sky was boiling with clouds threatening rain. A chill wind ruffled the tall grass growing across the meadow. The weather didn’t deter the populace from enjoying market day. Those on foot cast a wary eye on horse-drawn carts and hay wagons vying for space along the narrow roads leading to Edinburgh.
Nola Drummond, a young widow, threaded her pony cart through the crowd. Her mother, Wilona, was seated beside her. In the back were Nola’s three little daughters, sitting atop the bundles of dried herbs, skeins of yarn and baskets of eggs, which the women sold at market. Crowded in beside them were Bessie, a withered old crone with a hunched back, and Jeremy, a fat little troll dressed in a tiny top hat and frock coat. Both Bessie and Jeremy had been shunned by others before being taken in by this family.
“Look, Mum.” Six-year-old Allegra pointed to the crowd of people gathered around the banks of the loch.
When their little cart drew closer, they could see women and children weeping as they stood watching a group of fishermen hauling the body of a young lad from the water.
Nola reined in the pony, bringing their cart to a halt. She and Wilona, helped five-year-old Kylia and three-year-old Gwenellen to the ground before starting toward the others.
Unable to control her curiosity, Allegra was already out of the cart and running ahead. Once she’d reached the shore, it was an easy matter to inch her way through the crowd until she could see and hear everything.
“Nay! Not my Jamie.” A woman threw herself upon the body of the lad, her voice hoarse from sobbing. “I’ve already buried my man, and three of my babes. Jamie is all I have left in this world. Oh, no. Please. Not my Jamie, too.”
One of the fishermen laid a big hand on the woman’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Mary. But the lad is gone. We were too late to save him.”
A wave of terrible sadness swept the bystanders. Even the fishermen, hardened by years at sea, could no longer hold back their tears as the woman gave in to a fit of sobbing.
Caught up in the emotion of the crowd, Allegra crept forward until she was standing beside the distraught woman. Before anyone could stop her she knelt and placed her hands on the lad’s chest.
At once she was seized with a violent tremor as the icy shock was absorbed into her fingertips and passed through her body. The water of the loch had been cold. So very cold.
Shivering, Allegra looked up at his mother. “Your Jamie isn’t dead.”
“What are you saying?” Caught between surprise at the child’s boldness and a need to believe, the woman narrowed her eyes on her.
“He isn’t dead. He wants to come back to you, but he needs help.”
With jaws slack, the crowd watched in horrified fascination as this wee stranger pressed her palms hard against his chest.
Water spilled out of the lad’s mouth. His mother let out a scream, but Allegra didn’t seem to hear. She was like one in a trance, her gaze fixed on him with such intensity, her green eyes seemed to burn with an inner fire.
It was a shocking image. This tiny lass, like some wild creature, fiery hair falling in tangles to below her waist, ignoring the cries of the crowd as she began to speak to the lad in an ancient tongue that even the oldest among them had forgotten.
When the words ended she bent low, pressing her mouth on his.
Suddenly his body began to twitch.
“What trickery is this?” someone shouted. “Take the lass in hand and spare this poor mother.”
But before the crowd could react, the lad’s body gave a violent shudder and his eyes opened.
“Oh, Jamie! Sweet heaven.” His mother let out a cry, sweeping him into her arms and crushing him against her chest. “It’s my Jamie. Back from the dead.”
As the crowd surged forward, Nola pushed her way through and caught her daughter by the arm, hauling her roughly aside. “Get into the cart now, Allegra.” Nola’s eyes darted with nervousness. “Hurry now, child.”
Up ahead, Allegra could see her grandmother already bundling Kylia and Gwenellen into the back of the cart, where she hurriedly covered them with furs.
As soon as Allegra and her mother climbed up to the seat of the cart, Wilona flicked the reins and the horse took off at a run.
Allegra glanced from her mother to her grandmother, who wore matching looks of fear. “Did I do something wrong?”
“Nay, child. But there were many watching. You’ve been warned that we’re not like others.”
The little girl hung her head. “I’m sorry. But Jamie’s mother was crying. And in my head I could hear him crying, too. He wanted to come back to her. He said as much.”
Nola gathered her daughter close and hugged her. “You did nothing wrong, Allegra. But there are some who don’t understand our gifts.”
“Why?”
“Because they’ve forgotten the ancient ways. They’ve turned away from the healing powers within their hearts.”
The little girl looked solemn as she folded her hands in her lap. “I’m glad we haven’t turned away from the power.” She closed her eyes and leaned against her mother, giving in to the weakness that laid claim to her.
Nola sighed and glanced over her daughter’s head to meet her own mother’s shadowed gaze. “I hope you’ll never have cause to regret it, Allegra.”
The midnight moon was obscured by heavy clouds that swirled in an angry sky. A lone rider clattered over the cobblestones of the courtyard. The sound of his approach had the hounds leaping at the barred door.
Wilona slipped out of bed and hushed the animals before throwing the latch and peering into the darkness. Her unbound hair, laced with gray, spilled around a face stiff with concern.
Recognizing the man as a distant cousin, she opened the door wider and stood aside. “What brings you here at such an hour, Duncan?”
“There’s talk at the tavern, Wilona.” He fidgeted with discomfort, unable to meet her eyes. His gaze skimmed over the troll asleep by the fire. The creature was rumored to have slept under a bridge until rescued by these good women. At a footfall on the stair he looked over and saw Bessie, the old crone who was thought to be a seer. She, too, had been an outcast until she found refuge in this place.
“You risk too much by allowing the lasses to display their gifts to the world.”
“Allegra has always had a tender heart. We couldn’t stop her. Would you rather she’d let the lad die, Duncan?”
The man flushed. “I don’t pretend to understand how you and yours come to possess such powers. Nor do I hold with those who say it’s the mark of the devil. But I fear for you, Wilona. You go too far when you take in misfits and otherwordly creatures.” he nodded toward Bessie, who eyed him in silence.
“She was turned out by her people. She had nowhere to go.”
He sighed. “These are troubling times. You know that music, dancing and all manner of frivolity are the devil’s own works. There are those who intend to go to Edinburgh on the morrow to report this unholy deed. You and yours could be sent to Tol-booth Prison, or worse, the lot of you could be put to death.”
“What would you have us do, Duncan? Become like others, cruel and uncaring? Turn our backs on our precious gifts? Gifts that can benefit others? You well know that we’ve never used our gifts for our own profit.”
He gave a bleak shake of his head and started toward the door. As he pulled it open and stepped out into the night he paused. “This visit never happened. You never heard from me. If pressed, I’ll admit that we are distantly related, as are all from the ancient clan Drummond. But I’ll not subject my wife and children to the anger of a mob thirsty for blood.”
Wilona nodded. “I understand, Duncan. And I’m sorry for whatever trouble this brings upon your head.”
After bolting the door she turned to see her daughter standing in the shadows. “You heard?”
Nola nodded. “Aye.”
“We feared this day would come.” The older woman’s spine stiffened. “For the sake of the lasses, we must return to the Mystical Kingdom, and we must leave now, so that there is no trace of us on the morrow.”
“But the isolation? It was the reason we left.”
At Nola’s words the older woman held up a hand to silence her. “Indeed. But isolation if preferable to the dangers we face here.”
“What of Bessie and Jeremy?” Nola watched as the troll sat up and rubbed sleep from his eyes.
“They are welcome to come with us if they choose. Bessie?”
The old woman nodded.
“Jeremy?”
The little troll got to his feet and began to pull on his frock coat.
While Bessie and Jeremy prepared the cart for a journey to the Highlands, Nola and Wilona carried the sleeping children to a nest of furs in the back. As silent as a summer breeze they set off, with the hounds running alongside.
Before the morning sun had risen, the cottage lay empty. The mother, daughter and three granddaughters, as well as a troll and a hunchbacked crone, had left without a trace.
Some said it was a certain sign that they’d aligned themselves with the devil, and had descended into darkness. Others spoke in whispers about a land in the Highlands that had long been home to their clan. An enchanted land, where those with special gifts would be free to practice their mystical powers, away from the prying eyes of disbelievers.

Chapter One
Mystical Kingdom—1559
“Allegra, you’ve worked long enough.” Kylia wiped a strand of coal-black hair from her cheek and paused beside the garden row where her sister was busy hoeing. “Now come fishing with me.”
“How I’d love to. But I’ve another row to see to.”
“It will keep. And you’ll feel so fresh and cool when you splash barefoot in the stream with me.”
“Aye. I’d like that.” Allegra mopped at the sweat that beaded her brow. “As soon as I finish here, I’ll join you.”
“Promise?”
“I do.”
Kylia smiled, for the pleasure was always greater when shared with her sister. As she swung away, her youngest sister, Gwenellen, came racing across the meadow, followed by Jeremy. Though he’d once been known as a fierce troll, exacting payment from all who crossed his bridge, Jeremy had found contentment here in the Mystical Kingdom.
“Allegra. Jeremy and I have found a marvelous berry patch in the forest.”
The little troll nodded. “They’re the sweetest yet.” His voice resembled that of a frog croaking. “Come with us and help us pick them, Allegra.”
She shook her head. “First I have to finish my chore. Then I promised Kylia I’d fish with her. But if you two are still in the forest when I’ve finished with all that, I’ll help.”
Gwenellen shot her sister a pixie smile. “Here. Let me finish your chore right now.” Before Allegra could stop her she clapped her hands and chanted, “Be gone, weeds. Do as I wish.”
Almost at once a shower of seeds fell from the sky, followed by a net filled with fish.
Gwenellen looked around in dismay, then lifted her head to shout, “Not seeds. Weeds. And I didn’t say fish, I said wish.”
Allegra was convulsed with laughter. “Oh, Gwenellen. You really need to practice your spells.”
“I suppose I do.” Her younger sister’s frown turned into a smile. “Well, it looks like you’ll have to weed your garden after all. But when you’re done, promise you’ll join us?”
“If you’re still in the forest picking berries.”
Gwenellen nodded. “We’ll probably still be there. You know we always eat one for every one we drop in my basket.”
Allegra laughed as she glanced at Jeremy patting his round tummy. “I know. Just try not to eat so many that you can’t make it back in time to sup.”
“Have you ever known me to be late for supper?” With her laughter ringing on the air, the fair-haired lass danced off to the forest in search of her berries, with the little troll racing to keep up.
Just then Allegra’s grandmother, Wilona, made her way along the neat rows of the garden, and paused beside her granddaughter, bent to her hoeing. “You’re doing a fine job, Allegra.”
The lass paused to wipe her forehead with the back of her hand. “I enjoy watching the tender shoots breaking through the ground, Gram. The birth of each small plant is such a wondrous thing.”
“Aye.” Wilona smiled at this. It was so typical of her eldest granddaughter. Despite her practical nature, Allegra had the most tender of hearts. She could do the work of three people, then take on another chore, just to give her sisters a chance to swim or bask in the early-summer sun.
The older woman glanced around. “Where are your sisters?”
“Kylia is down by the stream, no doubt already splashing like a fish.”
The old woman shared a smile with her. “Aye. That one does love the water. Let’s just hope she remembers to fetch some of those fish for our supper. And Gwenellen?”
“Off in the forest with Jeremy, hunting berries.” Allegra wisely refrained from mentioning the latest failed spell, for their grandmother had despaired of ever teaching her youngest granddaughter the skills the others enjoyed with such ease.
“The lass does have a fondness for sweets. As does Jeremy.” Wilona frowned. “Still, it isn’t fair to leave you with the garden chores while they’re off playing.”
“I don’t mind, Gram.” Allegra scraped at the earth, dislodging a patch of weeds. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be than right here. This is as pleasant to me as the water is to Kylia, and the soothing forest to Gwenellen.”
“I understand, for it was always the same with me.” The older woman filled her pockets with greens before turning away. “But you’ve already mucked the stalls and collected bundles of herbs for your mother’s potions.”
Allegra smiled at the mention of Bessie. Her gifts were many, including the ability to sing like an angel. Allegra and her sisters had learned a score of lullabyes from the old woman, who’d often sung them to sleep in their young days.
“When you finish here, come back to the cottage and help yourself to the stew Bessie and I have simmering.”
“I will, Gram.” Allegra kissed her grandmother’s cheek before returning to her work.
She had chosen this spot for the garden because it lay in a high meadow, surrounded by forest on either side. Here in the sunlight, under her watchful care, fat cabbages grew to the size of a man’s head. Neat rows of kale and chard grew alongside sage and thyme.
It wasn’t an easy task to keep the wild things from taking over the garden plot. It took diligence on Allegra’s part. She devoted several hours each day during the short summer months to tilling the soil and attacking the weeds that threatened. Her mother and grandmother had taught her how to build a wattle fence of green willow branches and twigs, intricately woven to keep the forest creatures at bay.
Around her, the meadow was a sea of heather, the graceful purple blossoms swaying in the gentle breeze. Out of nowhere a shadow fell over her. Puzzled, she glanced heavenward. A hawk, perhaps. Or a thundercloud. The sky was sunny and clear, without a single cloud to mar its beauty. There was no sign of a bird. Alarmed, she looked around to see what had caused the shadow.
Too late, she saw the figure of a blood-spattered giant, mouth set in a tight line, eyes narrowed on her with grim concentration. In his hands was a length of plaid that he tossed over her, pinning her arms to her sides, covering her head to blot out the light and still her cries.
She struggled, and managed to kick her legs until even they were wrapped firmly. Swaddled as helplessly as an infant, she was unable to move.
She could hear the sound of his breathing as he raced through the meadow, carrying her slung over his shoulder. Once in the forest he paused to pull himself into the saddle while holding her firmly in his arms. Then the horse was running, the wind rushing past them as he urged his steed ever faster. Tree branches slapped and snagged, and she could hear the giant’s occasional muttered curse. But though they splashed through streams and clattered over rocks, never once did he pause, or even slow the pace.
Allegra struggled to clear her mind of fear, so that she could get her bearings. But all she could see in her mind’s eye was the giant. Standing as tall as a tree. Hands big and rough and bruising as they bound her. And that one brief glimpse into his eyes. Eyes filled with utter darkness.
How had he bested the dragon? Could it be that this giant was even stronger than the mighty creature that stood guard over their kingdom? The thought terrified her.
The horse slowed to a walk and Allegra could hear the splash of water. Moments later she was shivering as the water soaked her bindings.
Her heart sank. This had to be the Enchanted Loch, the barrier that had always kept her and her family safe from the outside world. Once her abductor made it to the other side, he would be free to take her anywhere, and she would be unable to stop him.
She had to act now, or all would be lost.
Concentrating all her energy, she conjured an image of her mother, and as the image came into focus, called out to her in her mind.
Nola sat at her loom, pleased with the design she was weaving. At her feet sat Bessie. Despite the old woman’s fearsome looks, she was a gentle soul who had long ago forgiven those who had mocked and reviled her. In gratitude for the haven she’d been given here in the Mystical Kingdom, she was devoted to Nola and her family.
The fabric on Nola’s loom looked as though it had been spun by angels. Soft as a spider’s web it was, with fine, intricate spirals that looped one into the other like exotic jewels.
Old Bessie smiled. “This will make a lovely gown for one of your daughters.”
“Aye. I so enjoy making them pretty things.”
“And why not?” Bessie’s smile deepened. “They’re fairer than any flowers.”
At a cry Nola’s head came up sharply. “Allegra?”
She looked around for her daughter. Seeing no one, she glanced at the old woman. “Did you hear that?”
“Nay. But then I don’t have your gifts, Nola.”
At that Nola shoved away from the loom and walked to the door of the cottage.
Outside, Wilona was stirring her stew over an open fire.
“Allegra just called to me. Have you seen her?”
“Aye. Weeding her garden.” Wilona’s sharp eyes narrowed on her daughter’s troubled face. “What’s wrong?”
“Something, though I know not what.” Already Nola was hurrying up the hill toward the meadow. “She needs me, for I heard her calling my name.”
Wilona set aside her wooden spoon and hurried after her daughter, with the old woman trailing slowly behind.
When they came to the meadow, Nola knelt and retrieved the hoe from the dirt where Allegra had dropped it.
Her mother was already examining the print of a man’s boot in the sand. Her tone was low with fear. “An intruder from beyond. He would have to slay the dragon.” Wilona frowned in concentration. “I thought I heard a cry earlier, but because I was surrounded by bleating lambs, I couldn’t be certain just what it was.”
“Is he a barbarian?” Nola’s tone was little more than a whisper.
“Nay.” Wilona straightened, holding a torn piece of plaid that clung to a section of wattle fence. “A Highlander, from the look of this.”
“No Highlander would dare to risk the Enchanted Loch.”
“No ordinary Highlander, perhaps.” Wilona caught her daughter’s arm. “You must know that even hidden here, away from prying eyes, there are those who desire the power.”
“But for what reason?”
The older woman shook her head. “I know not. But this I know. We must stop him before he crosses the loch, or all will be lost.”
The two women lifted their fingers to their mouths and gave a series of shrill whistles. Within minutes Kylia stepped from the stream and hurried to the meadow. From out of the forest came tiny Gwenellen, moving as swiftly as a shadow, followed more slowly by Jeremy.
After a hasty explanation, the four women formed a circle and joined hands, chanting in an ancient tongue, while Jeremy and Bessie sat in the grass, adding their voices to the chorus.
Merrick MacAndrew had never seen anything like this. One minute the waters of the loch were so clear and calm, he could see all the way to the bottom. The next they were swirling and churning as though they were a bubbling cauldron stirred by a witch’s spell.
Witch. His eyes narrowed on the bundle in his arms. She may have looked like a goddess in her garden, with that exquisite gown and hair neatly plaited in one fat braid, but now he had no doubt that this fiery female was the reason for the loch’s abrupt upheaval.
If he weren’t so desperate, he’d have the sense to be afraid. If his life meant anything at all to him, he would surely turn back. But without his son, his life was meaningless. And without the woman in his arms, his son would surely die.
“Witch. You’ll not deter me from my path,” he muttered.
Just then the angry waves swept him from the saddle and he found himself floundering in the deep. For a moment his precious bundle was torn from his hands, but he managed to snag an end of the plaid and drag her close.
Coughing and choking, Allegra struggled against the cloth that bound her. “You must set me free at once.”
“So you can flee? I’ll see you dead before I consent to such foolishness.”
“Then you’ll have your wish soon enough.” She coughed and came up sputtering as another wave washed over her. “At least give me an opportunity to stay afloat.”
He was about to refuse when a thought came to him. “Aye. I’ll do as you ask.” Within seconds he’d unwrapped the length of plaid, freeing her hands and legs. Then, just as quickly, he wound it around his own waist and around hers, binding her firmly to him. “As long as you understand that in order to save your own life, you must save mine, as well.” He shot her a look of triumph. “If one of us dies, the other dies, as well.”
“You’re mad.”
“So I’ve been told.”
A series of waves rolled over them, tumbling them about like leaves in a storm. But the cloth held, and when they came up, gasping for air, they were still bound together.
Seeing a flash of movement beside him, Merrick’s arm shot out and he captured a handful of his horse’s mane. His other arm wrapped around her as he shouted, “Hold on, woman.”
They were dragged through the waves with such force they couldn’t catch their breath. The water thrashed and pummeled and hurled them about until they were dazed and clinging. Each time they thought they’d survived the worst, the waves would increase in strength, battering them until they were struggling for breath.
Above the sound of the waves and water, Allegra heard the familiar words of the ancient chant and knew that her family had come together to try to save her. The thought of them forming a circle of protection gave her a sense of peace. As she was buffeted and tossed about, she closed her eyes, willing herself into the circle with them.
Suddenly a wall of water as high as the rock cliffs that surrounded the loch bore down on them, rolling them over and over until they were bruised and battered, their lungs screaming for air.
So this was how it felt to die, Allegra thought as she was dragged to the very bottom of the loch, still bound to the stranger. She absorbed a blow from the horse’s flailing hooves as the terrified animal struggled to the surface.
For a moment she feared her head would explode from the pain. Then she felt wave after wave of darkness rolling over her. Strong arms surrounded her, and she saw the face of her long-dead father, who had descended from the noblest of Scotland’s families. Kenneth Drummond could trace his lineage all the way to the first king of the Scots.
She held on to him, thrilling to his strength as, with powerful strokes, he broke the surface. For several long moments they clung, filling their lungs with precious air. Then he untied the plaid and lifted her in his arms, carrying her to shore.
The water here was as calm as glass.
She lifted a hand to his cheek. “Am I dead then, Father?”
“You’re neither dead, nor with your father.”
At the sound of that stern voice, she opened her eyes and felt her heart plummet. Not her father. The giant.
He had somehow escaped the perils of the Forest of Darkness and the Enchanted Loch to storm the Mystical Kingdom itself.
Sweet heaven. Who was this man, that he could overcome such powerful magic?
In the meadow of the Mystical Kingdom a dark shadow passed overhead. A sudden wind came up, catching their hair and sending the hems of their gowns whipping about their ankles. The nearby trees were bent nearly double from the force of the wind.
Their chanting abruptly ceased as they looked around with a feeling of dread.
It was Wilona who finally spoke. “Allegra is lost to us. She is no longer safe within the confines of the Mystical Kingdom. Her captor’s powers must be far more potent than ours. Or perhaps his need greater than ours.”
“But how can that possibly be?” Gwenellen’s eyes, as blue as sapphires, went wide with disbelief as she looked to her mother for the answer. “Why can’t we cast a spell to stop him?”
“Come here, child.” Nola drew her youngest daughter close, then caught her middle daughter’s hand in hers. “There are two powers that are stronger than any other.” Nola remembered the man who had claimed her heart, and had given her three precious daughters. “One is love.” She thought of the myths and fears and gossip that had driven them from their home to seek refuge here in this place. “The other hate.”
“How will we know which power drives Allegra’s captor?” Kylia’s dark eyes, usually flashing with humor, were now sparkling with tears.
Nola shook her head. “It is not for us to know.”
“Then how can we help her?” Gwenellen’s voice nearly caught in her throat.
Nola dropped an arm around each of her daughters’ shoulders and drew them close to press kisses to their cheeks. “We can send Allegra calming thoughts and healing light to see her through whatever the fates have in store for her. Though your sister is unaccustomed to the ways of that other world beyond our shore, she is strong and brave. Best of all, there is a goodness in her heart that will see her through whatever trials may be in store for her.”
But though Nola spoke with conviction, there was a heaviness around her own heart. She had brought her daughters here to protect them from a world of disbelievers. Now her beloved Allegra had been taken away from all that was safe and familiar, and thrust back into that very world.
A world that could use her innocence and tenderness against her.
A world that seemed always bent upon destroying that which it couldn’t understand.

Chapter Two
Allegra lay on the banks of the Enchanted Loch, taking in deep gulps of air. As her breathing gradually slowed, she became aware of a dull ache at the side of her head. Touching a hand to the spot, she felt the swelling where the horse’s hoof had grazed her. Any closer and she would have been knocked senseless.
Closing her eyes, she took deep, calming breaths while tracing her thumbs in gentle circles around and around her temple until the swelling disappeared, leaving only a small bruise. That effort cost her, and she was so exhausted she was forced to lie very still, until her strength gradually returned.
Feeling the warmth of sunlight on her closed lids, she opened her eyes. A short distance away the horse, drained from the exertion to stay afloat, had staggered about before stumbling to its knees. It struggled in the grass, eyes wide with fear, powerful chest heaving. The poor creature was confused, disoriented and absolutely terrified.
Overcome with tenderness, Allegra forced herself from her lethargy and crawled to the animal, laying her hands on its head. Almost at once the horse’s breathing slowed, and its eyes seemed to focus on her with something akin to understanding.
Minutes later the horse scrambled to its feet and walked a short distance away, nibbling grass as though nothing had happened.
Merrick lay where he’d dropped on shore, watching all this through narrowed eyes. It was as he’d heard. This woman did indeed possess the power to heal. If he’d had any doubts before, they were now wiped away.
When she turned from the horse, Merrick was already on his feet facing her, pointing the tip of his sword at her heart. “Don’t move, woman.”
She looked up at him and saw again the darkness in his eyes. It was impossible to see into this man’s soul. It was as though he’d closed a door, allowing no light in, allowing nothing of himself to escape.
Desperate, she turned her full gaze on the jewels winking in the sword’s hilt. Within moments they glowed with a blinding fire that equaled the sun.
Merrick let out a hiss of pain as the fire burned into his palm, and he was forced to drop his weapon.
Allegra used that moment of distraction to turn and run. As she raced through the brush, her wet gown clung to her legs, slowing her progress. Tree branches snagged at her hair and arms, but she ignored the sting of pain and continued running until the breath burned her lungs.
From behind strong fingers clawed at her shoulders and she was yanked off her feet. She landed on the floor of the forest and looked up to find the giant standing over her, breathing heavily.
She struggled to keep the fear from her tone. “What is it you want of me? Why did you risk your life to come to the Mystical Kingdom?”
His fingers closed around her upper arms, dragging her to her feet. When she dug in her heels he simply tossed her over his shoulder and continued walking as though she weighed no more than a feather.
When they reached his waiting horse he pulled himself onto his steed’s back and settled her in front of him. “You’ll accompany me to my fortress.”
“For what reason?”
With his arms firmly around her, he took the reins and nudged his horse into a gallop. As he ducked a low-hanging branch he brought his mouth close to her ear. “You will save my son, who is gravely ill.”
She looked over her shoulder in alarm. “I can try. But many things are beyond my power.”
He gave a quick shake of his head. “Hold your tongue, woman. I’ll not listen to your feeble protestations of weakness, for I’ve had a taste of your strength. Know this. Whatever fate the lad suffers, so shall you. If he lives, I give you my word, I will return you to your people unharmed. If he dies, you will never see your home again, for you will join him in death. You’d be wise to heed this warning. My justice will be swift and sure.”
Allegra shivered as the wind whipped her hair and stung her eyes. She could feel the darkness closing around her, chilling her blood. Could almost taste the bitterness that lay like a festering wound around this man’s heart.
She was in the clutches of a madman. And she feared that regardless of the fate of this man’s son, she was already doomed.
Merrick looked down at the woman in his arms. Now that sleep had finally claimed her, he was free to study her without her knowledge.
The bruise that had marred her temple was already fading, though just hours ago she’d had a lump the size of a hen’s egg.
She didn’t look like a witch. In fact, if he didn’t know about her, he would think her a high-born woman. She was a rare beauty, with that unblemished skin lightly bronzed by sunlight, and hair the color of flame. When first he’d seen her working in her garden, her hair had been neatly plaited in a fat braid that fell below her waist. Now her encounter with the stormy loch had tossed her hair into wild disarray. It spilled around her like a veil, skimming the backs of his hands like wisps of finest silk.
Her gown was still damp, clinging to her body like a second skin. It was woven of exotic cloth that seemed more suitable for royalty. His gaze was drawn to the opening at her neckline, and the darkened cleft between high, firm breasts. The rush of heat to his loins caught him by surprise. Since Catherine, no woman had caused him even the slightest interest. But then, he told himself, this wasn’t a woman. She was a witch. It was only natural that she would try to ensnare him in one of her spells.
His fingers tightened on the reins and he nudged his horse into a run. Let the witch sleep if she chose. As for him, he was driven by but one desire. To get her to his fortress as quickly as possible.
As the horse’s hooves beat a steady tattoo along the rock-strewn forest trail, he whispered one thought like a litany.
Please. Let me be in time to save Hamish.
The loss of Catherine had been painful enough. Without his son, he would prefer death to the life of unending pain he knew would be his.
Allegra awoke to the sound of shouting. She glanced around in confusion, trying to make sense of the many strange sights. The Highland meadow looked much like the one in her Mystical Kingdom. Fields of heather waving in the breeze. To one side a waterfall spilling down hundreds of feet into a rushing stream. In the distance, tidy little cottages, and in the fields, flocks of sheep grazing on hillsides. But here were so many people. Men on horseback, others driving teams pulling wagons filled with hay and grain. Women staring down from upper windows, or glancing up from their chores as they wielded buckets and brooms, often with chubby infants at their hips. Children chasing each other around in fields, many of them pausing to stare at the man and woman as they passed.
“What is this place?”
“The village is called Berkshire. My home is Berkshire Castle.” He pointed, and Allegra could see the turrets in the distance.
“A castle. Are you a lord?”
“I am.” He spoke the words abruptly, as though they were distasteful to him. “Lord Merrick MacAndrew.”
As they made their way through the village Allegra could see the people watching. But though they seemed respectful enough, they held their silence. No one called or waved. There were no greetings exchanged between the lord and his people.
Was their silence due to the fact that they shared his fear for the life of his son? Or was there more going on here?
She sensed one emotion stronger than the others among these strangers. Fear. Of her? Or of their lord?
Puzzled, Allegra sat up straighter as they approached the place Merrick MacAndrew called home. Berkshire Castle was a natural fortification, built high on a hilly piece of land, making a secret approach impossible. With its back to the mountain, there was but a single way to enter the portals.
As they drew closer, Allegra thought it an imposing structure, with its high towers and guards posted at the gates. Once they were inside the courtyard, a pack of dogs set up a ferocious barking. As Merrick stepped down from his steed they circled his feet, tails wagging, tongues lolling. He reached up and lifted Allegra from the back of the horse. Seeing the way she shrank from them, he issued a sharp command and they fell silent.
Gingerly she reached down to touch the ruff of a dog’s neck, but quickly stepped back when it bared its fangs and snarled.
Even the dogs, it seemed, were ill-tempered here in this place.
“M’lord.” The door opened and the housekeeper stepped out. “Praise heaven, you’re alive. The rumors have been…” She stopped, then tried again. “I see you’ve brought…” She stared at Allegra as if seeing a ghost.
“I’ve brought the healer.” To Allegra he said, “Mistress MacDonald is housekeeper here at Berkshire Castle.”
Under other circumstances, the sight of the old woman would have brought a smile to Allegra’s lips, for she was no bigger than a child. The hem of her dress brushed the ground. The apron encircled her tiny waist two or three times, and was held in place by an enormous sash.
Merrick’s tone was abrupt. “Is there news of Hamish?”
The old woman shook her head sadly.
Merrick closed a hand around Allegra’s wrist. “There’s no need to prepare a chamber for this woman. Until my son recovers, she will not be allowed to leave his side.” His tone fell, for Allegra’s ears alone. “Don’t bother with any of your tricks, woman, for you’ll never be out of my sight.”
The housekeeper paled and backed away as they started toward her. When Allegra walked past her the old woman crossed herself and grasped the door for support.
Once inside, Allegra had a quick impression of soaring ceilings and great wooden stairs. Of tapestries lining the walls, and hundreds of candles blazing in chandeliers overhead. A dark space filled with gloom that no light seemed to penetrate. The oppression of this place weighed heavily on her.
There was no time to look around or sort through the source of the darkness, as Merrick kept a tight hold on her wrist, hauling her quickly up the stairs and along a hallway until he opened a door to a chamber.
Once they were inside a servant looked startled before making a quick bow and slipping away, leaving Merrick and his captive staring at the pale figure in the bed.
“This is my son, Hamish. He took a fall and later became feverish. Since then, he hasn’t left his bed. Heal him.”
Instead of obeying, she merely looked down at the lad. So pale. So still. “How long ago did this happen?”
Merrick shrugged. “A week. Perhaps two.”
Allegra arched a brow. “So long. And where were you, my lord?”
His scowl deepened. “On the field of battle. Dispatching invaders. When I returned home and learned of this, I vowed to find someone who could save him. Now do it.”
They both looked up at the sound of hurried footsteps. A tall, sandy-haired man paused on the threshold. His eyes widened in surprise. “Merrick? Cousin, the servants told me you were back.” His eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Don’t tell me you actually reached the Mystical Kingdom and lived to tell about it?”
“I’ll tell you everything later, Mordred. Right now I must see to the healer.”
Another man lumbered through the doorway and stood gaping at Allegra. Taller even than Merrick, his shoulders wider than a broadsword, he appeared to have hastily thrown on his tunic, which was un-fastened, and his boots, which hadn’t been laced. To Allegra he was truly frightening to behold. His eyes seemed vacant. His speech, when he finally found his voice, was that of a child. “You’re back, cousin?”
“Aye, Desmond. With the healer.”
Allegra shivered as the three men studied her. There was darkness here. Evil. It seemed to be all around her. It was new to her. And frightening. She’d heard about the darkness that could poison a man’s heart and soul. But until now it had been something she’d heard about only from her mother and grandmother.
Merrick’s tone deepened. “You heard me, woman. See to my son.”
Struggling to ignore the men, Allegra turned her back on them and sat on the edge of the lad’s pallet, placing her hands on either side of his head. At once she felt the heat of his fever rush through her, almost searing her flesh.
She closed her eyes, trying to sort through the jumble of images that flitted through his mind and into hers. So many people and events moving through his young mind. It left her weak, and more than a little dazed.
“Who is the beautiful golden-haired lady who hovers nearby?”
Desmond gasped and turned to his brother, who cautioned him to be silent.
Merrick’s face twisted into a ravaged mask. “You see Hamish’s mother?”
“If she has eyes the color of the sky, and a half-moon scar above one brow, then I saw his mother for a moment before she disappeared.” Allegra fell silent, attempting to concentrate, despite the distractions. There was such heat here. It was much more than mere fever. But what stoked this fire? Fear? Dread? An evil potion?
“I’ll need willow bark. Essence of balm. Wood anemone, and cool water from a Highland stream.”
Merrick struggled to rein in his impatience. “I saw you heal yourself, as well as my steed, with nothing more than a touch. What need have you of these things?”
“There is more here than a fever. More than a mere tumble from a tree. Your son lies gravely ill, my lord. Do you wish him cured, or merely brought back from the edge of death?”
Without warning his hands closed around her upper arms, dragging her to her feet. His face, inches from hers, was tight with fury, his breath hot against her cheek.
“I didn’t risk life and limb to spar with your tart tongue, woman. You’ll get everything you need. But never forget, if I find you playing me for a fool, I’ll see that you pay dearly.”
He released her and turned on his heel, shouting for the housekeeper, who came running.
“Our healer desires willow bark, essence of balm, wood anemone and cool water. See that they are brought to her at once.”
“Aye, my lord.”
He turned to Allegra, who hadn’t moved. “Will you require anything else?”
“That’s enough. For now.” Trembling from his touch, she turned her back on him and settled herself once more beside the boy. She knew if she were to check, she would find bruises on her upper arms. The lord’s hands were strong enough that he could easily snap her bones with but a single touch.
There was such violence in him. Though he kept it in check, it was there, bubbling just beneath the surface, threatening at any moment to boil over, scalding anyone who got too close.
Was his anger the cause of so much darkness in this place? Or had the darkness caused his anger?
She needed to put aside her fear of the lord if she were to open herself to the needs of his son. Still, it was disconcerting to have the man here, hovering about, weighing her every move. He was a distraction. One she could ill afford, especially since she was having such trouble concentrating.
The lad’s mother was no longer in the land of the living, but was now on the other side. Of that Allegra was certain. But from the troubled look in her eyes, it had not been a peaceful passing. Perhaps, Allegra thought suddenly, the lord had had a hand in her death. That would explain why she hovered so near, wishing to protect her son from the same cruel fate.
Allegra laid her hands on the lad’s head and closed her eyes, struggling to shut out the man and his problems while absorbing the boy’s pain. At once she was thrust back into a Highland meadow. She had a sense of the boy’s voice, high-pitched with excitement. Hamish climbing. Laughing as, surefooted as a mountain cat, he moved from branch to branch. Allegra felt the momentary distraction. Was it a flash of memory? Something or someone just above him, hidden in the branches? Whether it was man or beast, it seemed dark and frightening. Had he been startled? Pushed?
She probed deeper. The glint of murky liquid in a silver goblet. A muffled gasp. Then the image was gone and there was a quick little skitter of fear as the lad’s foot slipped, and he realized he’d lost his grip. Then he was tumbling, head over heels, toward the ground.
She absorbed the jolt as he landed in the grass and lay watching the sky above him spinning in dizzying circles. Allegra felt the room spin and wanted desperately to press a hand to her stomach. But she dared not let go of the lad now, when they were so closely connected.
Again something. A flash of memory. A face peering down at him. A whispered voice that sent icy chills along the lad’s spine. Then, before he could hold on to it, the memory was gone.
Ever so slowly the clouds came into focus, and then he was struggling to sit up.
Allegra’s own mind settled.
“Hamish?” It was a feminine voice. “Are you hurt?”
“Nay.” He got to his feet.
“Want to climb again?”
He shook his head. “I must go home.”
“Not yet. Come. We’ll climb higher.”
“Nay.” He refused, though he knew not why. He knew only that he had to go home. Now. This instant, while the fear had him by the throat. He struggled for a reason. “Mistress MacDonald said Cook was making biscuits the way I like them. Drizzled with honey. I mustn’t be late.”
Hamish started toward his father’s fortress in the distance.
Allegra wondered at the sudden flare of heat as the boy had another flash of memory. Just a flash, but it was enough to cause a spark of absolute terror. The spark flared into flame, burning so brightly it obscured all thought but one.
Danger. Danger. He had to get home at once.
Then he was running. Running so hard, so fast, his heart was thundering, and the breath burning his throat. There was but one thought Allegra could discern. He had to get to his father’s home. There was something important he had to tell him as soon as he returned from the battle. His very life, and that of everyone here in the castle, depended on it.
Allegra looked up at a commotion in the doorway as the housekeeper directed servants to set up a table beside the boy’s pallet. At once the connection was broken, and the boy’s thoughts scattered and fled and were lost to her. She took in several deep breaths to calm her racing heart.
“We fetched what you’ve asked for.” The tiny woman was out of breath from her hasty climb.
“Thank you.” Allegra sighed. Now she would have to begin again.
As she let go of the boy’s hands and sat back, she glanced at the housekeeper and had to turn away to hide the sudden smile that threatened.
The poor woman was too terrified to enter the room. Instead she’d remained in the doorway, calling out her directions while holding on to the door. Perhaps, Allegra thought, she meant to slam it in her face if threatened with harm.
The servants looked equally afraid, working so quickly they nearly knocked each other over in their desire to escape.
At least, she thought, there would be few interruptions. Except, of course, for Lord Merrick MacAndrew. He was now pacing back and forth in front of the fire, a goblet of ale in his hands.
He paused to stare at her, and she felt as though she were staring down the devil himself. Such anger there. Such darkness.
He drained his goblet, then resumed his pacing.
It was then she noticed that his cousins, Mordred and Desmond, had also remained. Both men were seated in the shadows, their gazes narrowed on her with fierce concentration. Perhaps they thought to protect the lord from the wicked witch.
This was, she feared, going to prove to be a very long night. And with each passing minute, she could feel her strength ebbing.

Chapter Three
Allegra was grateful that the others had finally vacated the lad’s chambers. Now her only distraction was Merrick MacAndrew, who hovered over her like an avenging angel.
She ground the willow bark into a fine powder, then sprinkled it into a goblet of water before holding it to the lad’s lips.
At once Merrick was beside her, clamping a hand on her wrist. “Hold, woman. What is this thing you give my son?”
“A potion for the fever.”
“Before it passes his lips, you will taste it.”
She was already shaking her head. “I have no need…”
His fingers tightened on her flesh. “I said, you’re to drink first.”
“Very well.” She took a taste. “And now will you waste precious hours waiting to see if I die, before allowing me to minister to the lad?”
Merrick’s frustration came out in a hiss of breath. “Enough of your insolence, woman. See to him.”
Very gently she held the goblet to the boy’s lips and watched with satisfaction until it was empty. Then she turned her attention to the balm and wood anemone, grinding each into powder.
With each twist of her hand, as she worked mortar and pestle, she could feel her strength being drained.
Merrick studied the concoctions with a wary look. “What do you hope to do with these weeds?”
“They are herbs. Wood anemone alleviates swelling. As for the sweet balm, I’ll use it to help the lad sort through his thoughts. He seems confused.”
Merrick’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve read his thoughts?”
“That is not my gift. But there are a few thoughts mingled with the pain, which I can discern. Perhaps it is the blow to the head, or perhaps there is something that is still causing him such fear, it blocks all else, even the healing.”
Merrick’s voice lowered with feeling. “Can he hear my voice?”
For the first time since encountering this angry man, Allegra saw a glimmer of the depth of his pain, something he’d managed to keep from her until now. “I know not. Who can say what those on the other side can hear?”
“The other side?” He blanched. “Is he dead, then?”
“Nay, my lord.” Seeing his pallor, Allegra was quick to explain. “He is not dead, but he has slipped far away from this life.”
“Why?” The word came out in a croak of misery.
“Some go there because it is a place of healing. Others go to prepare themselves for a life far different from the one they know here.”
“You’ll not let him go, do you understand?” Again his fingers tightened on her wrist, and she felt the mixture of anger and frustration pulsing through him. “Cast a spell, or do whatever it takes to keep him with me. If you fail, woman, you know what will happen.”
“Aye.” She snatched her hand away. “You’ve made that perfectly clear, my lord. Now I suggest you tend to your son.”
“Tend him? How?”
“Speak to him, as a father speaks to his son. Call to him. Let him know you are here, waiting to welcome him back from his sojourn to that other place. Urge him to come back to you.”
For a moment Merrick merely glowered at her. Then, putting aside his anger at the woman, he knelt beside the bed and touched a hand to the lad’s forehead.
His voice, when he finally spoke, vibrated with feeling. “Hamish, lad. I’m here now. Nothing can harm you, son. Nothing. Let go of your fears and come back to me. Please, Hamish. I need you here with me. You’re all I have in this world now.”
Allegra stood to one side, watching and listening in amazement. When Merrick MacAndrew spoke to his son, he became a different man. The brute who would force his will on others disappeared beneath the guise of a loving father. But she sensed that this was no mere playacting. The love this man felt for his son was a living, palpable thing.
Still, she would do well to remember that this was no gentle lord, but a coarse brute. And she had the bruises to prove it.
Shivering, she walked to the fire and stood with hands outstretched. But even this close, the warmth eluded her. The dizzy feeling that had come over her when she’d touched the lad was with her still. She felt light as air. As though, unless she anchored herself, she would float clear up to the rough wooden beams of the ceiling.
She took hold of the back of a chair and went very still, struggling to keep her wits about her. But now there was a strange buzzing in her head, and little stars began floating in front of her eyes. Bright they were, and giving off sparks that blinded her. It was unlike anything she’d ever experienced before.
As if from a great distance she heard the lord’s voice calling to her. “What are you about now, woman? I’ll have none of your tricks. Come here and see to my son.”
She wanted to answer him. But though she opened her mouth, no words came out. Instead, the room went suddenly dark. She felt herself tumbling down into a deep, black abyss.
Strong arms caught and held her before she could fall to the floor. She felt herself being lifted and cradled against a solid wall of chest. She had not the strength to lift so much as a hand in her defense as she was lowered to a pallet.
There were voices. So many voices around her, and all of them babbling.
The high-pitched voice of the housekeeper. “Well, m’lord, no wonder the poor lass fainted. How long has it been since you fed her?”
The impatient tone of her captor cut through. “There was no time for food, Mistress MacDonald.”
“No time for food? And what about dry clothes?” Something tugged on Allegra’s boots, and she felt warm fingers rolling away her cold, wet stockings. “Look at her. Soaked to the skin. Ye must leave now, m’lord. ’Twouldn’t be proper for ye to stay here while I strip away her clothes and wrap her in dry linen.”
“I have no intention of letting this woman out of my sight until Hamish is healed.”
A long, deep sigh, and then the resigned notes of the housekeeper. “Very well, m’lord. But to preserve her modesty, ye will walk to the balcony until I’ve dressed her in a dry night shift.”
Allegra heard the sounds of booted feet storming across the room, and then the soft rustling as the housekeeper began removing her wet gown and undergarments.
When Allegra’s eyes opened the old woman took a step back, her face registering shock, then fear, then resignation. Pressing her lips together, she returned to the bedside, determined to complete her task.
Allegra touched a hand to her head. “I’ve never…fainted before.”
“Ye’ve no doubt never gone this long without eating before, I’ll wager. I’ve sent a serving wench to fetch some broth and biscuits.”
“Thank you, Mistress MacDonald.”
The housekeeper’s lips curved into a lopsided smile. “Up close ye don’t look like a witch. Why, ye’re hardly more than a lass.”
“I’m ten and nine. By the time my mother was my age, she had three babes.”
“As did I. I was wed when I was but ten and three.” The old woman helped her into a soft, warm night shift, before draping her in a shawl for modesty. “This’ll warm ye.”
“Thank you.” Allegra looked around. “Where am I?”
“Ye’re still in the lad’s chamber. I’ve made up a pallet for ye near his.” She lowered her voice. “The lord wouldn’t hear of ye leaving the lad’s bedside.”
“You’re very kind, Mistress MacDonald.”
The old woman shook her head. “Ye’re here to heal our dear Hamish. For that, I’ll do whatever I can to see to ye’r comfort, lass.”
“Even though you’re afraid of me?”
The housekeeper gave her a sideways glance. “Are ye reading my mind?”
Allegra laughed, a clear lilting sound. “There’s no need to do that, Mistress MacDonald. You’re not very good at hiding your feelings.”
“Are ye a witch, lass?”
Allegra’s smile faded. “Perhaps. I don’t know.”
“Isn’t that why ye live in the Mystical Kingdom? To keep ye’r secrets from the rest of us mortals?”
Allegra shook her head. “The Mystical Kingdom has been home to our clan for hundreds of years. I’ve been there since I was very young. My mum and gram say we took refuge there because the outside world fears and reviles what it cannot understand. There are many who would punish us for being different.”
“What is ye’r name, lass?”
“Allegra. Allegra of the clan Drummond.”
“Ah. ’Tis an ancient and honorable clan, Allegra Drummond.”
When a shadow fell over the bed both women looked up. From the scowl on Merrick MacAndrew’s face, Allegra had no doubt that he’d overheard everything.
“I see you’re well enough to gossip with my housekeeper. Does this mean you’re well enough now to see to the lad?”
Mistress MacDonald crossed her arms over her chest. “I’ve ordered broth and biscuits for the lass. And Cook has prepared a meal for ye in the great hall, m’lord, where Mordred and Desmond await ye.”
“Tell Cook I’ll take my meal here, Mistress MacDonald.”
“Here?” She glanced around. “But the lass…”
“Is here at my pleasure. She will sup with me. And then, when her strength is restored, she will do what she was brought here to do.”
“Aye, m’lord.” The old woman gave a worried glance at Allegra before hurrying off to see that the lord’s orders were carried out.
When the housekeeper returned, she was trailed by half a dozen servants. While two of them set a table in front of the fireplace, laying it with fine linen, crystal and silver, the others were busy setting an array of food on a sideboard.
When all was in readiness the old woman sent the servants scurrying before announcing, “Ye’r dinner is served, m’lord. Will ye have ale?”
“I will. And so will the woman. It will help warm her.”
“Aye, m’lord.” After filling two goblets, she stood beside the table. “I’ll just wait and serve ye’r food.”
“There’s no need, Mistress MacDonald. You’re needed in the great hall. Fill our plates with a variety of Cook’s fine food. If we want more, we can serve ourselves.”
“Aye, m’lord.” After doing as he asked, the old woman gave a last worried glance at Allegra before bustling from the room.
When she was gone, Merrick startled Allegra by lifting her from her pallet.
She shrank back. “What are you doing?”
“I don’t want you fainting on me again.” His warm breath feathered the hair at her temple, sending the most amazing curls of pleasure along her spine. For the first time in hours she felt warm, all the way to her toes.
She didn’t know what to do with her arms. To keep them from encircling his neck, she clasped her hands together tightly. Because he was holding her so close, her face rested naturally against the warm hollow of his throat. She breathed in the unfamiliar scent of him, and found it so potent it went straight to her head.
This was a different kind of dizziness. Though her mind seemed to spin in lazy circles, she felt strangely focused. And though one part of her wanted to move away, another, stronger part of her wanted to remain just this way.
She’d never been held by a man before, except for her father. But he hadn’t lived long enough for her to remember much about him, except in dreams. Before, when Merrick had held her astride his horse, she’d been too afraid to allow the sensations to sink in. Now it wasn’t fear she was experiencing, but something far different. Something so alien, she would need time and distance to sort it out.
“You’ll sit here.” He lowered her onto a furdraped chaise set before the fire.
Once he released her, he reached for a goblet of ale and handed it to her. “This, and the fire, will have you warm in no time.”
He circled the table and took the seat across from her before picking up his own goblet and drinking. Allegra did the same, feeling the warmth of the ale seep into her veins.
Though her shift of white lawn was modest enough, with a high rounded neckline and long, tapered sleeves, it couldn’t hide the lithe young body beneath. Even the shawl draped about her shoulders couldn’t hide the swell of breasts. The bare feet peeking out from beneath her long skirts made Merrick aware that, except for the shift, she wore nothing.
It wasn’t an image he’d invited, but now that it was here in his mind, he couldn’t seem to get past it.
He set down his goblet and stared at her in a way that had her heart thundering. Then he blinked and the look was gone. Or had she only imagined it?
She bent to her food. After several bites of mutton she looked up and smiled. “This is grand. I think it may be as good as my gram’s.”
“I take it that’s meant as a compliment?”
“Aye. My gram can make biscuits that melt in the mouth, and cook fish from the loch that would make you weep.”
“Has she taught you her secrets?”
Allegra shook her head. “She tries. But she often complains that, though my sisters and I have many gifts, cooking isn’t one of them. Then there is Jeremy. He’s a little troll who lives with us, because he had no other home.”
“I’ve heard trolls are nasty creatures.”
She shook her head. “Jeremy isn’t like that, though he may have been at one time. Now he simply enjoys the beauty of the Mystical Kingdom.”
“What of your sisters? Are they healers, too?”
Allegra looked down. “We are all gifted, though in different ways. I’m the best healer, though the others can manage simple wounds. Kylia can also see the past, and on occasion, look into the future. What’s even more impressive, she can look into a man’s heart and see good or evil. Then there’s Gwenellen…” Just the thought of her youngest sister had Allegra smiling. “She has not yet discovered her gifts, though I’m certain she will in time.”
Merrick seemed most interested in Kylia’s gift. “You say your sister can look in a man’s heart. What if she sees both good and evil?”
“She would see both, but would not judge him. Kylia is far too sweet to ever judge another.”
“And what of you, Allegra?” The name rolled off his tongue like honey and startled him for a moment, for it was the first time he’d said it aloud. His tone softened. “Are you sweet like your sister, or are you a witch to be feared?”
She looked up, and he felt the smoldering heat of her anger. “Are you like all the others, my lord? Eager to use my gift when it suits your purpose, then resorting to cruel names to brand me different?”
He reached for his goblet, avoiding her eyes. Her words were too close to the mark, and shamed him. But he’d be damned if he’d ask forgiveness of this…this tart-tongued female. “We waste time talking, woman. We’ll eat, and then you can return your attention to my son.”
Allegra shivered as the cold settled into her bones once more. Whatever tenuous truce they’d attempted, it had dissolved like the wisps of fog that often drifted over the Enchanted Loch until banished by the sun.
The man across the table was once more the demanding lord. And she, like it or not, his unwilling captive.

Chapter Four
Merrick sat brooding while Allegra finished her meal in stony silence. Why should he feel guilty for calling her a witch? Isn’t that what she was? Still, she’d looked so hurt. A hurt that had now turned to stony anger. He couldn’t help comparing that with the way she’d looked when she’d been speaking of her family. There had been such sweetness about her. A light had come into her eyes that made them glow as green as a Highland loch. And for a moment high color had bloomed on her cheeks, making her as fresh and colorful as the flowers in her garden.
It was natural that she missed her family. Didn’t he miss his home whenever he was off fighting a battle? Of course, the choice to stay or leave was his alone to make, and she’d been given no such choice. But this was different. Fate had backed him to the wall and he’d had to fight his way out. If he felt a twinge of guilt about taking her far from her home, he quickly brushed it aside. He couldn’t afford to care about anyone but Hamish. If the witch healed the lad, she would soon enough be back with her sisters in the Mystical Kingdom.
What a strange place it had been. Lush and green, with brilliant flowers that grew taller than a man and the air perfumed like a lover’s chamber. It wasn’t only the air that was sweeter. The light there had been touched with such amazing color, gilding everything with gold and precious jewels. Even the drops of water in the Enchanted Loch had glowed like pearls.
He’d caught glimpses of creatures there that he’d never seen anywhere else in the Highlands. Winged horses, small and delicate, yet big enough to carry a woman or child. At least, he’d thought they were horses. One minute he saw them, the next they vanished from his line of vision. He’d also spotted tiny fairies flitting through the tallest branches of the trees. He’d seen a halo of light around them, and had heard their voices, whispering and giggling. But like the horses, one minute they were there, the next they were gone, and he’d wondered if he’d actually seen and heard them, or if he’d only imagined it.
Then he’d caught sight of Allegra tending her garden, and he’d been oblivious to all else around him. At first he’d refused to believe what he saw. Why would a witch tend a garden in an enchanted land? Couldn’t she simply command that the crops grow, and her wish would be granted? But there she was, lost in her work, giving him time to bask in her rare beauty.
Her gown of rich green, shot with gold threads, appeared to have been spun by angels. It had draped the most perfect body, all willow slender and softly rounded curves. Fiery hair hung down her back in one long fat braid, twined with green ribbons. On her feet had been dainty kid slippers. But the hoe in her hand had been plain and serviceable. And she’d worked it with all the fervor of a peasant. That only added to his fascination.
It seemed incongruous that one so lovely could work until her hands were calloused and blistered.
For a moment he’d been so taken by her beauty, he’d nearly fallen under her spell. But the thought of Hamish, and what he must do to save his son, had hardened his heart.
It had almost happened again just now when he’d carried her to the table. The press of that body to his had him thinking things that were better left alone. Thoughts of lying with her, of pleasuring himself with her, had been nearly overpowering. And when her mouth had barely skimmed his throat, he’d found himself drowning in sensations.
Even now she seemed a contradiction. All buttoned up in that prim night shift, while her hair flowed about her face and shoulders and spilled down her back like a veil of fire.
He would have to remember to protect his heart from this woman. After all, despite her pretense at innocence, this was no ordinary maiden. She would know every trick to steal a man’s mind, his heart and finally his soul. For the sake of Hamish, Merrick knew he had to be strong.
He had no fear of her. After all, he was a seasoned warrior. He knew how to do battle against his enemy.
He looked up with a start when he realized that she’d spoken. “Forgive me. I was deep in thought.”
She inclined her head. “I said now that Cook’s fine meal has restored my strength, I’ll do what you brought me here to do. It’s time I saw to your son.”
He pushed away from the table and snagged his ale before following her across the room. There he slouched in a chaise, his long legs crossed at the ankles, watching with keen interest as she perched on the edge of the boy’s pallet.
She smoothed the balm over the lad’s forehead, then gently lifted his head and spread more at the base of his skull.
Merrick felt his skin prickling, and found himself wondering what it would be like to have her touch him like that. He could almost feel those long, delicate fingers moving over him, caressing, arousing.
Annoyed, he put aside such thoughts to watch and learn the ways of this witch.
She touched her fingertips to Hamish’s temples and closed her eyes. She remained that way for so long, Merrick began to wonder what it was she was feeling. Her expressive face showed such a range of emotions. One minute she was smiling, the next her brow furrowed into a frown of deep concentration. She was relaxed for the space of a heartbeat, and then her face was twisted in pain. So much pain.
Merrick felt a jolt of understanding. Could it be that she was experiencing everything the lad was experiencing?
Suddenly she opened her eyes, staring down at Hamish as she began to chant in an ancient tongue.
The words were meaningless to Merrick, but he found them oddly soothing. Her voice, naturally low in pitch, was mesmerizing. He had to fight the urge to close his eyes and let that rich voice wash over him. Instead he forced himself to study her every move with great care. If she appeared to threaten the lad in any way, he would be on her like an avenging angel.
Her eyes were fixed on Hamish’s face with such unblinking intensity, they seemed to burn like points of flame. The ancient words poured out of her, as from one in a trance.
Abruptly she began speaking to the lad in his own tongue.
“I know you’re torn, Hamish, between your desire to remain where you are, in the company of those who offer you comfort, and to return to the life you once enjoyed. You need have no fear. Whatever harm threatened you has been banished. Here in this place you’re surrounded by people who love you and will look out for your comfort and your security. Your father is right here, eager to speak with you.”
At that Merrick got to his feet and walked to the other side of the pallet, peering down at his son. Behind the closed lids he saw a wild fluttering, as though the lad were struggling against a bright light.
Allegra’s voice remained low and soothing. “It’s all right, Hamish. You can come back now. Come. See your father, who has been waiting such a long time to speak with you. Put his mind at rest now, Hamish. Come home to him.”
Suddenly the lids rose, and the boy’s eyes were open.
The goblet fell from Merrick’s nerveless fingers, splashing ale across the floor as he dropped to his knees with a cry. “Oh, Hamish lad. You’ve come back to me.”
With tears spilling down his cheeks he gathered the boy into his arms and pressed his face into his hair.
Allegra stepped away from the bedside, not only to give father and son the privacy they deserved, but also because the weakness was upon her again. And this time it wasn’t because of a lack of food, or the difficult journey. She recognized this feeling from past experiences. It was simply the price she had to pay for having used her gift. Crossing over into that other side exacted a heavy toll upon the one who was the bridge.
At the dining table she sank onto a chair. Folding her arms on the tabletop, she rested her chin there, taking comfort in the sound of the lad’s first halting words.
“You’re…home…Father.”
“Aye, Hamish.”
“For how long? Just until the next battle?”
“I can’t say, lad. We’ll not speak of such things. For now, I’m home with you. And you’re back with me.” Merrick framed the boy’s face and stared at him with naked hunger. “I feared I’d lost you, lad. Mistress MacDonald told me you fell from a tree.”
“Did I?” The boy thought about it a moment before shaking his head. “I don’t recall.”
“It doesn’t matter.” His father wrapped him in his arms and let out a long, deep sigh. “Nothing matters now that you’re back with me, Hamish.”
The two remained that way for the longest time, with Merrick rocking his son and crooning to him, and the boy holding on to him, taking comfort in his father’s strength.
They looked up as the housekeeper came bustling into the room, followed by several servants. When she caught sight of father and son embracing, she let out a shout of joy.
“Praise heaven, m’lord. Is it truly our young Hamish, awake and smiling?”
“It is indeed, Mistress MacDonald.”
Merrick beamed as the old woman touched the lad’s face, as if to assure herself. Then she promptly burst into tears and had to lift her apron to dab at her eyes.
The servants gathered around, laughing and clapping the lad on the back. Soon, as the word spread, the entire household began spilling into the boy’s chambers, eager to share in the good news.
Mordred and Desmond paused in the doorway.
“It’s true, then.” Mordred’s booming voice had everyone glancing up as he strode forward to lean over the bed and clasp his cousin’s hand. “The lad is back in the land of the living. Isn’t he a welcome sight, Desmond?”
“Aye.” Desmond squeezed the lad’s shoulder.
Hamish pulled away and looked questioningly at his father, who merely gathered him close and rocked him in his big arms.
As more of the household gathered around, Merrick became puzzled by his son’s reaction. Hamish had always been too bold for his own good, climbing without fear, leaping as though he could fly, without regard to the peril. He’d always refused to heed his parents’ cautions, choosing instead to rush headlong through life.
Now he seemed overly shy. As timid as a cornered mouse.
Though the lad seemed pleased to see everyone, he also seemed wary, grasping his father’s hand often. At times, when too many loomed over his pallet at once, he shrank back in fear.
It was, Merrick decided, merely the result of the injury. Soon enough it would pass and the lad would be as before.
He could see the excitement beginning to take its toll. When Hamish stifled a yawn and his lids began to droop, Merrick gave the word to his housekeeper to order the others to leave. At once the old woman shooed them away, though she couldn’t bring herself to do the same. She lingered, brushing back the lad’s hair from his forehead, patting his hand, repeating all the things she’d whispered to him during his long sleep.
“Ye’re back with us now, lad. Truly back with those of us who love ye.” More tears fell from her eyes. But these were happy tears, and her joy was so great she no longer bothered to wipe them away.
Merrick sat beside his son, basking in the glow of sheer relief. He turned to Mordred and Desmond, who had remained. “It’s as if the weight of the world has been lifted from my shoulders.”
“Aye.” Mordred nodded. “You risked everything, and won the grandest prize of all. Neither the threat of monsters nor the fear of the unknown could keep you from finding the witch and bringing her here to weave her magic.”
The witch.

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