Page 5 of Nyall

Nyall had always been a man of few words. He also avoided trifling with young females on the island, so he had little desire to engage any in conversation. Yet when he looked into this woman’s eyes and saw her fear, he wanted to pull her into his arms and hold her.

“I’m Nyall MacMar, Captain of the Guard for the MacMar Clan.” As the woman frowned, he saw Jamaran start toward them. “We wish only help. What may I call you?”

“My name is Caroline Parish.” Slowly she lowered her blade and then slid it into a sheath strapped to her forearm. “I must have passed out...how far am I from St. Augustine? Why are there mountains? There aren’t any in Florida.”

“You’re quite far from home, my lady.” Instead of grabbing her arms from behind, Jamaran stopped beside her and offered her a small strapped object. “This came off in my hand when I took hold of you, Mistress Parish.”

What do you now? Nyall thought.

Jamaran glanced at him. ’Tis better show her she may trust us.

“Thanks.” She took it and buckled it onto her wrist, and then went still as she stared at his webbed fingers and then his neck. “You’ve got...wait, are those gills?”

“Aye, for I’m no longer mortal. ’Tis a story I shall tell you another time.” The Finfolk commander smiled a little. “Dinnae fret. My kind, we’re allies with the MacMar.” His pale eyes shifted to Nyall. “Word of Caroline’s arrival shall spread swiftly. I must speak with Merrick.”

Nyall nodded. “I shall look after her.”

Caroline watched Jamaran trot down to the water. “I’m not anywhere near Florida anymore, am I, Captain?”

“No, Mistress Parish.” He glanced up at the top of the cliff stairs, where the golden-haired laird’s wife had just appeared with Shaw and Duncan, the clan’s healer “Caladh, ’tis off the north coast of Scotland.”

Her hands curled into fists. “That would mean either I swam four thousand miles across the Atlantic Ocean, or I’m dead. I can’t swim that far. Are my mother and grandfather here?” When he shook his head, she went over to sit on a flat-topped rock and stared at the bay, looking as if she’d taken a blow to the head.

Nyall joined her, taking care to step on rock instead of sand. “’Tis more I must tell you that shall explain much.”

“Can that wait?” She touched his hand. “I just spent most of the day swimming so I wouldn’t drown. I need a break.”

Without knowing why, he curled his fingers over hers. “Aye, ’twill keep.”

Sitting with her in such a fashion should have made Nyall uncomfortable, but he only experienced again the need to protect her. Watching the bay, he wondered if Merrick would come directly to speak with her. The Finfolk, who could only sire male progeny, were always in need of mortal females they could transform into immortal mates for their males. This woman already had to grapple with the fact that she had come so far from home, and to a place well beyond her present understanding. For the first time Nyall imagined just how terrifying this predicament must seem to a female from another, very different time.

I shall protect her until she accepts her fate.

A few minutes later Lady Valerie, Duncan and Shaw approached them. The laird’s wife, her golden curls shining around her pretty face, had one of her gentle smiles firmly in place. She had changed into the clothing she had worn in the future, and held a light wool blanket and a waterskin. The healer carried his case, and looked as calm as ever. Although the chieftain had pulled on a tunic to cover the black Pritani skinwork on his arm, Shaw still appeared pale and grim.

Caroline went rigid, but she said nothing as Nyall introduced them.

“I’m not hurt,” she told Duncan after he asked if she had any injuries, and looked at Shaw for a long moment before she regarded the laird’s wife, and shook her head when Valerie offered the blanket and water. “You’re American, right? You mind telling me what the deal is here with the enchanted island and everyone but you and me being Scottish?”

“The ring you’re wearing brought me to Caladh,” the laird’s wife told her, and then briefly described the terrifying ordeal that had led her to find the ring and travel back nine centuries. “It also saved our clan’s seamstress, Lark Ambrose, from drowning after she was mugged and shoved in a fountain. Somehow the magic the ring contains rescues women in trouble in the water. I’m guessing from your wet suit that you came from the ocean. Were you in danger when you found the ring?”

Caroline looked at Shaw. “Yeah.”

“You’ve come to a place where you’ll be safe,” the laird’s wife assured her. “I’m afraid we don’t yet know how to return someone to the future—Lark and I chose to remain here with the clan—but we’ll do our best to find a way back for you. In the meantime, you’ll stay with us.” She gestured toward the cliffs. “Our home, Dun Ard, is up there. It’s a very large medieval castle, so don’t be alarmed when you see it.”

Caroline got to her feet, but held onto Nyall’s hand with a tight grip. “He comes with.”

The laird’s wife smiled. “Of course. My husband will want to hear all about the rescue from the captain.”

As they walked across the shore toward the cliff stairs, Nyall noticed Valerie giving him odd looks. It wasn’t until he put his foot on the first stone step that he realized he had crossed a long stretch of sand without once sinking into it. He glanced down at the white-knuckled grip Caroline had on his hand. In the past Lady Valerie’s touch had stopped the laird’s mortal weakness, as Lady Lark had done for Fletcher, the clan’s seneschal.

“Would you wait a minute?” Caroline asked once everyone else had gone up the stairs, and stepped up in front of him before turning to face him. “I promised myself if I made it that I’d do this.”

Nyall caught her by the waist as she leaned down, but before he could hold her back, she put her mouth on his. The softness of her lips and sweet heat of her breath nearly made him groan, but the bold press of her breasts against his chest made his hands tighten on her waist. When she ended the kiss, she only moved back enough to look into his eyes, her own dark with some unfathomable emotion.

“You look like you want to smack me, Captain.” Her lips parted, showing beautiful white teeth. “Why don’t you kiss me back instead?”

She thought such all a jest, Nyall decided. “With women I dinnae do either.”