Page 35 of The Finest Scottish Fate

She pushed against him, making him lift his head. “You can’t tell me that what I just told you doesn’t make any difference.” She behaved as though saying the words a second time would make him more likely to accept them. “You are your people’s leader. Aren’t you supposed to think of them first?”

“A happy chief, a contented man, is a wiser leader for his clan. I canna be happy or content without ye. I know that in my heart.”

“You’re buying into all this entirely too easily.” She wriggled out of his embrace, but he didn’t miss her reluctance to move away from him, and that gave him hope. Nervously brushing at the folds of her gown, she tugged at her sleeves, appearing uncomfortable with her apparel. “Why are you so accepting of all this weirdness? It’s not normal, and you can’t tell me it is.”

Even though her turn of phrase was unusual, he caught the gist of her meaning—but just barely. “My mother was a follower of the auld ways. Many here still are. Much to the dismay of the clan priest.” He closed in, caught her hand, and held it, needing her touch more than he could explain. “Highland magic is not merely myth and legend. It is all verra real, my magical lass.”

“It is all very dangerous.” She stared down at their linked hands, but didn’t pull away. “I’ve looked for you forever,” she said with a hitch in her voice. “Why did you have to be in this century?”

A light knock on the door interrupted them.

Without taking his gaze from his sweet lass’s troubled face, he bellowed, “Leave us!”

“Murdoch bade me tell ye that Clan Heberdy has arrived,” Mistress Martha called out without opening the door. “Lady Evie? Are ye well?”

“He knows, Morganna. I told him.” Slipping her hand out of his, Evie turned away. She sat on the bench at the foot of the bed and stared downward, dejected.

The door slowly creaked open, revealing a tall, dark-haired woman Drummond had never met before. She greeted him with a regal nod. “M’lord. I am Morganna Nightwhisper, fallen princess of the Unseelie.” She nodded again. “At yer service.”

“The Dark Ones.” Drummond lunged and grabbed up the fire poker, wishing it were colder in his grasp.

“There is no need to arm yerself with iron, m’lord. I mean neither yerself nor yer lady any harm.” Dressed in a black gown that shifted and swirled all around her, she floated into the room. “My presence here is to help the two of ye achieve yer bond and find yer path to happiness.”

Evie took hold of the metal bar and tried to yank it out of his grasp. “I thought you said you’d never hurt a defenseless woman?”

“The Unseelie are anything but defenseless.”

“Well, she is my friend.” Evie tugged on the bar again, but he refused to let go. “Will you please set it down? Have you forgotten she’s one of the ones who brought me here?”

There was that. Grudgingly, he released the fire iron and allowed her to take it, then squared off in front of the mystical being. “Evie belongs here.”

Morganna arched a brow, her expression wry. “I agree completely, m’lord. ’Tis the lady who needs convincing.” She pinned Evie with an irritated look. “And I thought we two had agreed on a bit more subtlety?”

“Ye mean deceit,” Drummond said. Just because the being had brought him his fated mate did not mean he trusted her. The Fae, a self-serving race, rarely did anything that didn’t benefit themselves first. “I dinna take lies lightly. Nor do I ever forget the motives of those who told them.”

“Ye know little about what motivates me, future chief of Clan MacMuirrow.” The Dark One’s eyes flashed a deeper purple. “Rest assured, if I gain an advantage here, ye do as well.” She nodded at Evie. “As does this fiery lass who would bring so much to yer clan.”

“Then convince yer mistress to stay.” Drummond glared at the Unseelie, daring her to challenge him.

“Stop talking about me as if I’m not here,” Evie said. She narrowed her eyes at the Fae woman. “It’s my choice, remember? Isn’t that what you told me?”

“Aye, but ye must choose wisely or live with the regret of it for all the rest of yer days.” Morganna turned back to Drummond. “Trouble brews within yer own keep, m’lord. Might I suggest ye see to it? Murdoch needs yer assistance with the visiting clan.”

“Feckin’ hell.” Drummond hated the thought of leaving this business unfinished. He took hold of Evie by the shoulders. “Swear ye will not leave me. Ye must stay—at least for a while. Swear it, I beg ye.”

“I won’t leave…just yet,” she said, then flinched as if the words caused her pain. “Go do whatever it is you need to do.”

“Swear ye will not leave.”

She bowed her head, unable to meet his gaze. “I swear I won’t leave you.”

He hooked a finger under her chin and lifted her face to his. “Our souls cry out for the binding. Listen with yer heart. Hear what it says.” He brushed a kiss across her barely parted lips, then tore away and charged out the door, more determined than ever that his magical Mockingbird would never take wing and fly away.

Chapter Nine

“I canna believe ye told him everything.” Morganna threw up her hands as she paced back and forth across the bedchamber, then halted and jabbed a finger in the air, pointing at Evie. “Count yerself fortunate that the man’s mother was a strong believer in the auld ways and shared the lore with her son. Else he’d have ye locked away for insanity.”

“I didn’t tell him everything.” Evie rubbed her knuckles up and down her breastbone. Her heart hurt. Or something did. It ached like a terrible case of heartburn and only let up whenever Drummond was near. “I just told him where and when I was from.”