Just Wait For Me (Highland Gardens Book 3)
Read Just Wait For Me (Highland Gardens Book 3) Online
Authors: Dawn Marie Hamilton
Just Wait For Me
A Highland Gardens Novel
Book 3
Dawn Marie Hamilton
The third match in the Fae Queen's challenge is in play.
Will
fae magic change Stephen and Jillian's destiny?
In the chaotic aftermath of the battle of Flodden, an injured
Highland warrior makes a vow to a twenty-first century lass cast back in time
by a meddling, matchmaking faerie. Stephen MacEwen promises to find a way to
send her forward to her own time. But is that an oath he'll want to keep after
finding love in Jillian O'Donnell's arms? After saving Stephen's life, will
Jillian want to go?
No matter what the lovers decide, Stephen's wife—a woman who
acquired the title through deceit—and an old enemy attempt to destroy the
couple's chance for happiness. Only with the help of fae allies can Stephen and
Jillian overcome and earn their reward—everlasting love.
Journey from the woods of West Virginia to the Scottish
Highlands of 1513 to the Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina with
Just
Wait For Me
.
Copyright © Dawn Marie Wolzein, August 2016
Edited by Cindy Davis
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or
transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including
photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system,
without written permission from the author, except for the inclusion of brief
quotations in a review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and
incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used
fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business
establishments, events, or locales is coincidental.
So many individuals helped
bring this book to fruition. Too many to mention here, but you know who you
are, and I hope know you have my heartfelt thanks.
Thank you to Cindy Davis for editorial guidance and thank you
to Cathy MacRae and Cate Parke for critiques. Thank you to the very supportive
Kimberley Court and Debbie McCreary. Words cannot convey how important you all
are to me.
Thank you to Frank, my husband, best friend, and personal
hero.
And most importantly, thank you to the readers of the
Highland Gardens series.
9 September, 1513
Near the village of Branxton in northern England
The king is dead
.
Anguish tore from her halfling soul with a fae scream that
reverberated over the field of devastation like rolling thunder. Silence
ensued. Men frozen in fear.
Caitrina dropped to her knees beside the redheaded warrior
and ran gentle fingers along the bloodied curve of his handsome face. Damn
Oonagh! Damn the Fae Queen! She’d refused to allow Caitrina to intervene in the
politics of the mortals and prevent this tragedy.
Now, the king lay dead, fatally wounded by an arrow and a
bill. Be damned the English and their nasty weapon—the bill, a staff mounted
with a hooked chopping blade and pointed projections. The Scots hadn’t stood a
chance against the onslaught on the slippery, hilly terrain with their
cumbersome pikes.
Heartbroken, she cradled the man to her breast. Such
greatness lost. Tears spilled unchecked onto his precious face. Too late. Even
the magic tears of a
Sithichean
princess couldn’t revive the king.
“Caitrina! Let us be away from here.” The
brùnaidh
,
the Maclachlan Clan brownie, fussed at her back. “We must remove Stephen from
the field before the English learn he lives and plunge a bill into his chest.”
She ignored the wee man. How would the Scots forge forward
without their beloved king—with only a
bairn
and the sister of the
despised English monarch to guide them?
“If we lose Stephen you will never regain your rightful
place.”
Aye. She must deal with Oonagh and the stupid matchmaking
challenge. Caitrina released James from her embrace and eased him to the
ground. “Sleep in peace, oh, greatest king.”
The metallic tang of blood fouled the air. She rose and
moved through the death and destruction. Oonagh had tricked her. Led her to
believe after three matches she’d be free to return and live in
Tir-nan-Og
,
the beloved faerie paradise, land o’ heart’s desire. But Oonagh had refused to
reveal which match was the third and final. The one that would free Caitrina
from servitude to the Fae Queen.
Caitrina and Munn had expended considerable energy on a
third match only to learn Archibald and Isobell were the wrong couple.
Therefore, one match remained to perform.
“Needs be we hurry!” Munn sidestepped one of the petrified
English knights.
They found Stephen’s prone form not far from that of his
king. Caitrina rolled him over and took stock of his injuries. Thanks be to
Danu, the blond warrior would live. She cloaked the three of them in fae mist
and whisked them away on the fetid breeze to the healing caves of the Gray
Women.
The battlefield returned to morbid activity—an agony of
pain.
Present day
Greenbrier River Trail, West Virginia
“Rattlesnake!”
Jillian pedaled as fast as she could past autumn-tinted trees,
to catch up to her brother,
the rat
. Why must he always speed ahead,
leaving her in the dust?
“Kyle O'Donnell, did you hear me? I said...no, I screamed...
rattlesnake
.”
As she rode the dusty mountain bike alongside, he slowed.
“You overreact.”
“Do not. There was a rattlesnake on the trail. What if the
nasty snake bit me, and you were so far ahead you didn't know? The poison would
surge through my system before help arrived.”
Kyle chuckled. “That snake was more afraid of you than you
of it. Relax.”
Sure. The repulsive reptile hastily slithered away, but she
wanted to make a point. “Why do you always dart ahead?”
“Because you're a slowpoke.” He gave her a toothy grin.
“Always wait for you to catch up. Don't I?”
Jillian gnashed her teeth. Why must he be so difficult?
After all, Kyle was the one who begged her to come on this stupid cycling trip.
The least he could do was ride at her pace.
Who would have thought at twenty-eight, and as a co-owner of
Foxgloves
, a successful garden business, she still chased after her
thirty-year-old sibling? She’d only agreed to join Kyle because she’d needed to
get away. Away from all the happy-happy between Finn and Elspeth.
“Come on, the tunnel isn't far. Let's race.” Her brother
sped ahead again.
Jillian sighed and took her sweet time to catch up. Fifteen
minutes later, she crossed the weathered train trestle and arrived at the spot
where Kyle waited sporting an exasperated expression.
“Took you long enough.”
Oh, how she wanted to kick him. Instead, she blew a kiss.
He brushed strands of annoyingly perfect sun-bleached blond
hair out of disgustingly gorgeous chocolate eyes and laughed. “Let's take a
break before we ride through the tunnel.”
So not fair. He got all the good looks and all their
parent's attention. Pah-lease. She was pathetic. Really. She needed to get over
the past.
He studied her through narrowed eyes. “What’s wrong with you
lately?”
“Nothing.” She shrugged a shoulder. “It’s just…this trip is
boring.”
“Like teaching strangers how to put multiple plants into one
big pot isn’t?”
“It’s container gardening. It’s my job. It’s creative.” And
a hell of a lot better than her help desk job had been.
“And this is your vacation, which you seem to need. Try
chilling out.”
Right. Easy for him to say.
While they munched trail mix, Jillian covertly glanced into
the entrance of the abandoned train tunnel. Dim and ominous. Water trickled
from fissures in the stone walls and ceiling. A damp breeze wafting from within
brought a musty odor that drilled into her nostrils and sent a chill over her
spine.
“Must we go through there? Couldn't we return to the last
campsite? Enjoy the afternoon in the sun?”
“Don't you want to see what's on the other side?”
She stared into the dank tunnel. “Not really.”
“Don't be a spoil sport. We haven't ridden enough miles
today. I promise, after we go through the tunnel, we'll only ride another five.
I heard there is a nice campground near a quaint town. Can you say
restaurant
?”
Jillian didn’t want to go any farther, but there was no use
arguing. She’d never get Kyle to turn back. They would ride all the way to the
southern end of the trail as planned.
She righted her bike and walked toward the gloomy entrance.
Clouds stole across the sun making it difficult to see anything within. Jillian
shivered. The hairs on her arms stood on end. Something didn’t feel right about
this place.
“Ready?” Kyle asked.
“No.”
“Come on, Jilly. It'll be fun.”
A couple on a silver tandem bicycle rode from the tunnel,
waving as they passed. Sunshine reappeared from the clouds.
“See? It's safe,” Kyle said.
“All right. But I'm walking my bike through. Just wait for
me on the other side.”
Kyle pedaled off, popped a wheelie, and entered the odious
opening. Jillian pulled a headlamp out of her pack, secured it over her
baseball cap, and flicked it on. Inhaling deeply, she slowly walked her bike
into the dark.
The beam of light bounced off brick walls and earthen floor.
In the far distance, hazy sunlight indicated the other end of the tunnel. Okay,
she could do this. There was nothing here to fear. She proceeded carefully,
taking shallow breaths. About a quarter of the way through, rough rock replaced
brick on the walls. A blast of super-cold air hit her side.
What the
—
She shined the light into what appeared to be a deep well.
Narrow and foreboding. She kicked a stone in and didn’t hear it land. Suddenly,
something pressed against her back. A hand? Her pulse spiked. Whoa! A dizzy
sensation swamped her. She stumbled. Lost hold of the bike. Fell—or was she
being pulled?
She tumbled into the mysterious opening. Falling forward,
her body became weightless as she plummeted down…down…down…into a black void. A
horrible buzzing assaulted her ears. She screamed, but no sound passed suddenly
parched lips.
This shouldn’t be happening. A piercing white light
appeared, drawing her to it. What was there? Who was there? The light
intensified. She closed burning eyes. No relief. Pain burst behind heavy lids,
making her head throb relentlessly. Bile burned her throat. Just when the agony
became too much to endure, the cruel light exploded into a zillion vibrant
colors.
Fireworks in a July sky. Her mind blanked.
Panting, Jillian crouched, tips of fingers pressed against
the ground for balance. The nauseous sensation gradually subsided and she
attempted to stand. Vertigo forced her to her knees, and her stomach lurched
again.
Breathe, Jillian. Breathe.
She inhaled deep breaths, trying to calm down. The
queasiness finally passed and she sat against the rough trunk of a tree.
Exhaustion tempted her to curl up and sleep. But she needed to hurry and catch
up with…who? Yeah, yeah—Kyle.
Where was he? Where was she?
Jillian didn't recognize the surroundings. The towering
evergreens were larger than any she'd seen before, heavy needles blocking a
majority of the late afternoon light. The dense forest wasn’t like any they’d
cycled through on this trip.
She started to shake. This was no time to come unglued. She
inhaled a deep, calming breath. Think, Jillian, analyze the situation.
How
did you get here?
Her last memory was entering the train tunnel and
falling. Had someone shoved her? She’d thought she felt the pressure of a hand
on her back as she’d stumbled forward.
Strange. Who would have pushed her? They’d only seen the
couple on the tandem, riding the other way. No other cyclists or hikers.
Why had Kyle deserted her? Why hadn’t he returned? Shouted
for her? Tried to find her?
Frowning, she removed one of the water bottles attached to
her pack, took a long swig, and assessed the height of the sun. Would be dark
soon. How much time had passed while she couldn’t think straight? She scanned
the area. Great. Her bike was missing and there was no sign of a trail.
Shit! Her cell phone was in one of the panniers on the bike.
Not that it mattered. The damn device hadn’t gotten a signal in a couple of
days.
Nerves taut, she swallowed hard. There would be no
submitting to fear. If she started walking, surely she’d come across a road or
some such thing.
Right?
Jillian trudged along until taking another step became next
to impossible. Her feet hurt. Bike shoes were little protection against the
rough, rocky terrain. The setting sun painted the sky shades of crimson, and
she was lost. Completely and utterly lost, but she refused to panic. Hiking and
camping was nothing new. There must be a safe place nearby to settle in for the
night. Tomorrow, certainly, she’d find some sign of civilization.
Cripes
. West Virginia seemed even more remote than
she realized.
On a scree-covered slope, she spotted a protected area under
an overhanging ledge. She scrambled up the incline, slipping and sliding,
scraping knees and hands. Fleece cover-ups, a wind jacket, and a space blanket
were in her pack. Pulling out the silver cloth, she laid it on the ground. She
slipped into the fleece and zipped the jacket snug as the sun disappeared over
the horizon. Jillian worried her lip. Already the temperature was dropping.
Wanting to save the batteries in the headlamp, she turned it
off and ate a power bar in the dark. She wrapped the blanket tight, and used
the pack as a pillow. “Hummmm. Hummm. Humm.” When humming didn’t ease the
jitters, she made up silly stories as a distraction. An exceptionally sharp
stone dug into her hip. “Ouch.” She squirmed, trying to find a more comfortable
position. Finally, exhaustion took hold and, despite the chill, she slept.
Thunder from a passing storm jolted her awake. The feeling
someone watched skittered over raw nerves. She blinked, trying to adjust her
vision to the dark.
Hu…hu-hooooo
an owl called from a distance. Other
nighttime forest sounds heightened growing anxiety. She expected to see glowing
animal eyes.
Were there wolves in West Virginia?
But no, it seemed she
was alone.
Nervous and stiff, it took a while to fall asleep again only
to startle awake before dawn. The storm had passed and a bright silver moon
slid in and out of clouds creating shifting shadows. An odd disfiguration of
bark on a nearby tree caught Jillian’s attention. The scarred wood appeared as
a young boy's face.
Staring hard at the tree, she smiled as the face changed in
the moon's unpredictable light. Two distinctly different faces appeared within
the rough bark. The first, a boy with a pudgy nose and big sad eyes, and the
second—
She must be dehydrated. Delusional. Imagining faces embedded
in a perfectly normal tree. Jillian huddled deeper into the cocoon of warmth
the space blanket provided and tried to fall back to sleep. The forest’s woodsy
scent reminded her of how horribly lost she was, so sleep wouldn’t come. She
stared at the tree again. A third face appeared in the texture of the old oak.
This one had a scarred forehead and a crooked mouth.
Such fanciful thoughts. She snorted. Alone in the woods and
she was killing time imagining faces in a tree trunk. Sleep was what she
needed. One, two, three, she counted plants on a potting bench in the
greenhouse at
Foxgloves
instead of counting sheep—one hundred
thirty-two, thirty-three, thirty-four…
Finally, Jillian dozed again.
When she woke a third time, a chill had seeped into her
bones. She sat up and pulled the space blanket more snug. The tree looked
different in the misty light of morning and another image appeared. This tiny
face had an elongated nose and wisps of blond hair dangled across its brow.
Jillian covered her mouth to stifle a giggle. She'd recently read a book about
faeries and changelings and stolen children. She imagined that the hobgoblins
lived in this tree. That stolen boys—
The snap of a branch made her jump. Her stomach knotted.
Standing before her was a gnarled little man. No more than
three feet tall, he nearly blended into the surrounding woods. The peculiar
clothes he wore matched the colors of the forest. And his dusty brown skin had
wrinkles upon wrinkles. Elf-like ears stuck out from beneath a pointed cap. But
what startled her most were the unusual blue-green eyes that bore into her.
The man reminded her of a sketch she'd seen while
babysitting. Little Allison MacLachlan loved the story of
Rumpelstiltskin
.
Jillian clutched the space blanket in tight fists and gawked
at the man. He stared back. Unnerving seconds passed in silence. Abruptly, the
strange fellow lunged forward and yanked on the blanket, almost snatching it
away.
“What do you think you're doing? Leave my blanket alone.”
She rose into a crouch, holding tight to the silver cloth while he continued to
tug. When the man let go, Jillian fell backward onto her rump. “Dammit.”
His eyes narrowed. “Be you a witch?”
“What?” She shook her head. “Of course not.”
He circled around. “Then who are you to have spun such a
plaid? You are nae one of the
Sithichean
. Are you?”
Her thoughts whirled. “A what?”
“A
sithiche
, one of the faeries of these hills.” A
wave of an arm encompassed the surrounding terrain.
Jillian ran fingers along the edge of the space blanket.
“This isn't a plaid.”
The man glowered.
Ridiculous
. “Who are you?”
“That is none of your mind. My lad be needing that plaid.”
He grabbed for the blanket again.
She drew it close to her chest, refusing to let go. Jillian
wasn't about to let the crazy little man steal it. “I asked who you are.”
He raised his chin defiantly. “You tell me first.”
“Oh, all right. I'm tired of this game.” Jillian threw up
her arms in exasperation, dropping the blanket. “I'm Jillian O'Donnell. I’m
lost. Perhaps you can direct me to the nearest road?”
A mischievous glint flashed in the man's eyes. “There are
none, but if you give me that plaid, I will tell you where to find a game
trail.”
“Will that take me into town?”
“None here or about. Nearest village is three days walk over
that distant ridge.” He pointed off to the left.
While she glanced that way, the man snatched the blanket and
dashed into the woods.
Jillian ran after him. He was fast, weaving between the
trees. She chased him, darting this way and that, dodging brambles and tree
limbs. When a branch slapped the side of her face hard, she gave up, bent over,
placed hands on thighs, and gasped for breath.