Page 6 of Darach

Traveling through time with the Fire sword had not injured Emery, the first person the sain had brought back from the future to save the MacRoss Clan. Darach guessed this woman had been assailed when she found the blade, and would not yet realize she had been transported through time. Like any wounded creature she would fight for her life, so he needed to calm and reassure her that she had escaped whatever danger she had escaped.

“Dinnae be afraid,” he said, keeping the tone of his voice low and gentle. “You’ve come to a safe place.”

“You stay over there,” she warned him, and then looked around them. “What is this? How did you do this to me? Where is he?”

“I didnae bring you here.” Telling her what had, Darach decided, would keep. He gestured around them. “Look, and you’ll see ’tis only us.”

“What are you talking about? He was standing right in front of me five seconds ago.” She lowered the blade. “There aren’t any trees around the hotel.” Her gaze shifted to him. “Who are you? Where am I?”

Telling her she had landed in fourteenth century Scotland probably would get him skewered, he thought. His own weakness made the situation even worse, for he could not lie to her, so he would have to choose his words very carefully.

“My name, ’tis Darach MacRoss. You’ve come to a spring outside Dun Lasair, my home.” He held out his hands. “Your attacker, he’s gone, and I’m unarmed. Would you lower the blade now?”

“Blade?” Blinking, she glanced down at the Fire sword. “I thought it was just a piece of metal. I found it under some garbage bags in the alley.” She turned it over, her expression changing from fury to confusion as she studied it. “This is what he meant. What he wanted. It’s just like the book.”

“That sword belongs to my clan,” he told her as he tried to think of what more to say that would reassure her. He didn’t even know how to address her. “Can you tell me your name?”

“Charlotte Walsh.” When she next looked at him her eyes widened. “Did he do that to your face?”

Darach silently cursed himself for a fool as he turned his head away from her. The huge patch of red flesh that covered one quarter of his face completely engulfed his eye, and made him appear monstrous. He’d never forgotten to hide it from a stranger before now.

“’Tisnae a wound, but a birthing mark,” he said as he put some space between them once more. “I ken ’tis a gruesome sight, but you neednae look at me.”

“Wait.” She surged forward, grabbing his hand and pulling him to her, and then looking over his arm. “No tattoos.” She shook her head. “You can’t be him.”

Her reaction bewildered him. “Who did you reckon me, Mistress Walsh?”

“No one, it’s nothing.” Charlotte rubbed her eyes before she looked around them again. “You called this place something. Dun Lasair. I’ve never heard of it. Where is it? How did I get here?”

“’Tis much to explain.” The cool softness of her hands on his skin tingled with the magic still clinging to her, and he had to resist a sudden, strong urge to wrap his arms around her. “We should get you dry and tend to your wounds first, Charlotte, and then we shall talk of what’s happened to you. Mayhap you should give me the sword.”

“No.” She tightened her grip on the hilt. “He could come back, and it’s all I have to defend myself.”

“You’ve more now, my lady,” he assured her. “You’ve me.”

Charlotte hesitated, and then let out a shuddering breath as she handed the blade to him.

The moment Darach touched the Fire sword a wave of Fae magic burst over him, and sank into his flesh. He tossed the blade onto the bank and then turned back to her. She pressed her hand briefly over the wound on her brow, and then stared at the blood on her fingers.

“How bad is my head?” she asked, sounding tired.

Tucking one arm around her waist, he looked closely at the gash. It no longer bled, but looked raw and painful.

“’Twill need bandaging.” He nodded toward the edge of the spring. “We must see to all your wounds. Come out with me now.”

She nodded, but still held onto him when they reached the mossy rocks that encircled the spring. As he helped her out of the water, she stared at his tunic and trews before stepping back and regarding the rest of him.

“I don’t understand.” Her gaze shifted as she took in the trees and the trail. “Is this your property?”

Darach had never seen a woman as tall as he was, so it took him another moment to compose himself enough to reply. “The land belongs to my family. I came to the spring for a bathe.”

“I thought I knew every place downtown.” She regarded him and glanced at the sword in his hand. “I’m sorry if I scared you.”

“Dinnae fret. You’ve endured enough tonight.” Darach leaned over to pick up his tartan. He held it up with one hand, turning to her. When she stepped closer he draped it around her trembling body. He tucked the Fire sword into his belt and stepped into his boots. “Can you walk?”

“I think so,” she murmured, her head turning as she looked for something. “I’m staying at a hotel, but there are no buildings here. Is this Glendon? How could I end up across town so fast?”

“All shall be made clear soon, I promise you.” He wanted to pick her up and carry her to the stronghold, especially when he saw the dagger-heeled shoes she wore. At the same time he sensed any sudden move might make her bolt from him. “We’re close to my home; ’tis but a short walk from here. Take my arm if you need.”