From The Deep Read online

  Feeling guilty for letting his lustier musings get in the way of the missing bairn, MacEwan pulled his attention back to the matter at hand as Campbell looked up at his daughter.

  "The bairn is gone," the laird told the lass.

  Tyra’s blue eyes widened and MacEwan swallowed again. Would they widen so when he...? He squashed the thought.

  "He is gone? Where? Who?"

  Even knowing his offer for the girl’s hand had not yet been accepted, MacEwan felt responsibility to the family he expected to be joined to his own. The missing child would become his brother, and in time, his ally.

  "I shall find the child," MacEwan said.

  Campbell’s gaze shot to MacEwan’s face as the older man struggled to gain his feet.

  "Nay, you are a guest in my home. ‘Tis my place to find my son."

  MacEwan nodded. "Yea, but you canna do it alone. I am the best of Clan MacEwan’s trackers. If the villain who stole your bairn left this keep on foot, I can follow him."

  With sorrow-filled eyes, Campbell studied him for a moment, then nodded. "I thank you, MacEwan. And if you find my son, I will grant you my daughter’s hand in marriage as you have asked."

  "What?"

  Both men turned toward Tyra. "Will I have no say in this? Am I a horse or a sword to be given as a prize?"

  MacEwan was taken aback by the strange reaction of the lass whose brother, the future laird of her clan, was missing. But he thought her next reaction even stranger when she looked him up and down as if he were a prized bull for sale. He felt his nether parts instinctively respond to her gaze, and gave a silent sigh of relief when she turned back to her father and nodded.

  "I agree. If he finds my brother, I will marry him."

  Her forthrightness made MacEwan smile in spite of himself. He wouldna mind getting to know the strong-willed lass better, but not now. Time was wasting. He needed to work, and quickly, if the babe were to be found.

  "When was the last time you saw the bairn?" he asked Tyra.

  "Yestreen eve. I helped his mother put him to bed."

  MacEwan nodded. The weeping of the grief-stricken lady still echoed throughout the keep.

  "I would speak with her, then the rest of the household, and quickly. We must learn when the child was last seen."

  Hours later, as the sun rose, and having gained no valuable information from the mother, the nurse, or any of the others, MacEwan stepped out of the despair of the keep into the fresh spring air. While Campbell organized the search of the chambers inside, he would begin the hunt outside.

  Having only arrived after nightfall the day before, MacEwan had not been able to appreciate the beauty of Campbell’s keep. The grand house sat up on a hillside, a good defensible position, but well up from the stout protective wall. The view from the top step reached far beyond, and MacEwan took in the dew-sprinkled glory of the surroundings.

  To the north, mists veiled high ridges around. To the east, meadows and fields stood ready for planting, while to the south lay Loch Bemis, its glassy surface reflecting the sun’s soft yellow rays. Like a long looking glass, it mirrored the images of the trees and rushes skirting its western shore, giving the impression of a mystical underwater realm. His fancy imagined a whole world beneath the wind-tickled waters of the loch, where the fey carried on their lives just as did ground-dwellers above.

  But he had no time for such idle fancies. Shaking off his reverie, MacEwan moved down the steps and into the courtyard. A light rain had turned the dust of the night before into mud, just now beginning to dry in the morning sun.

  He allowed a grim smile to turn the corners of his lips. This would be easier than he had thought.

  Many sets of footprints had stirred the muck, some of shoes, some of cuarans, and some of bare feet. He followed each, one by one, and was beginning to despair when at last he came across a set which led in an unexpected direction--toward the sheer face of the outer wall.

  The footprints led him to an almost hidden postern gate. Surely these were the footprints of someone from the keep, for strangers would nae be told the location of the small opening in the protective wall.

  Passing through the gate he let the tracks lead him on.

  Toward the loch.

  Unease made his skin crawl and a brooding darkness fell over him. A bairn and the cold waters of the loch were a frightening combination.

  His anxiety grew as the footprints neared the spongy ground. The villain had carried the bairn to the loch. Then what? Tossed him in to drown? A cold temper seeped through him.

  No. The prints suddenly turned and moved along the shore into the rushes. He loosed a sigh as hope returned that he would find the child alive.

  Pushing his way into the reedy growth, he easily followed the trail until....

  He stopped short. Before him lay a trampled mass of broken rushes. And there, hoof marks. Bending down, he looked closely at the prints slowly filling with water. Beside them lay another set of prints. Smaller than those he had been following.

  A conspirator? On horseback?

  The sound of a horse’s whinny snapped him erect.

  There, in the bracken not a stone’s throw ahead, stood a sleek stallion with a coat more lustrous and mane more flowing than any he had ever seen. The huge beast was as black as the devil and from the way he pranced, more wicked.

  As MacEwan watched, spellbound by its beauty, the stallion reared and clove the air with its massive hooves then galloped off, tail held high.

  Only then did MacEwan see the willowy form that had been standing beside it. An involuntary gasp escaped his lips. It was a woman of unearthly beauty. Unbound blonde hair cascaded to her knees, a snow-white gown rippled like air around her willowy form, and her face glowed with what could only be enchantment. Then he heard her shout.

  "Hurry, Nib. The bairn is near to chewing my finger off."

  Chapter Two

  "You there!"

  Aeryn turned at the call and for the second time that day lost her breath.

  A braw Highlander--shoulders draped in a bold plaid, his hand gripping the sword at his side--glared at her. His long hair glinted burnished gold in the morning sun and the planes of his face caught the light, outlining the squareness of his jaw. She let her gaze take in his broad shoulders, narrow waist nipped in by his sword belt, and long legs, spread wide in a fighter’s stance. Though he looked ready for battle, she could not help the flush of desire that swept through her. Never had she seen such a glorious warrior.

  It took her but a moment to realize that he returned her stare. Could he find her as alluring as she did him?

  "Put down the bairn. Now."

  The force of his command made her take a step backward. He was not interested in her, but in what she carried. She felt the flush of what had been fascination change to one of anger. How dare he issue such a command to her?

  "No. He is mine."

  "He is the son of the Campbell."

  She frowned. "The Campbell?"

  The man raised one fine gold eyebrow in disbelief. "You stand on his land."

  She couldn’t stop the smile that formed on her lips. "His land? I dinna think so. I am on my land. And this is my loch and this is my child." She waved her free hand in the air, dismissing him. "Now be gone."

  Instead of leaving the warrior began to stride toward her.

  "If you willna surrender the bairn, I shall take him from you."

  Aeryn grinned at the handsome, foolish man. He knew not with whom he dealt. "I dinna think so, warrior."

  "I tell you, he is a chieftain’s son. He wears the Campbell tartan."

  "Nonsense. Chieftains dinna leave their feckless bairns lying about in marsh grass."

  "He was stolen from the keep."

  She narrowed her eyes. "How do I know you did not steal him yourself?" Ignoring his outraged sputter, she added, "In any case, your chieftain doesna deserve to have him back. Never fear, warrior, I shall take much better care of him than your Campbell."
r />   "I willna tell you again, woman. Give me the child."

  He was near enough now that she could see real purpose in his glare. His huge size did not alarm her or his murderous aspect. But the broadsword he’d pulled from his belt did give her pause. She did not want to argue with the warrior with the bairn at her breast. Best she return home quickly.

  She moved toward the loch.

  "Stop! Dinna go further."

  The warrior had stopped, but that did not mean she was about to. She continued toward the water’s edge, calling over her shoulder, "Fear not, handsome one. The wee bairn is safe with me."

  She stepped onto the smooth surface of the loch’s waters, glancing back at him to see his reaction as she glided on the water toward the center of the loch. She giggled. Ground-dwellers always acted so when her people walked on water.

  "Nay!" He ran to the shoreline and Aeryn couldn’t help but notice his abrupt halt at the water’s edge. His eyes--she could see them clearly now, as murky blue as her loch--darted from the water to her and back again.

  "You fear going into the deep, braw warrior?"

  Though he glared fiercely, she could still see the fear, and what looked like confusion, in his expression.

  "What are you that you can walk on water?" he asked in a hoarse whisper.

  "I, foolish warrior, am the lady of this loch."

  Aeryn had to grin, thoroughly enjoying the slack-jawed expression on his face as she called forth the waters to swirl around her and take her home, far beneath the surface.

  * * * *

  She had walked on the water.

  Even as MacEwan’s mind formed the thought, he rejected it. It was not possible. No one could walk on water.

  He continued to watch in disbelief as she waved an arm and the water responded, forming a swirling vortex beneath her feet. Then she disappeared into it.

  With the bairn!

  "Wait!" He lurched after her but jerked back as his feet sank into mud and the frigid water lapped at his ankles.

  "Ayyy!" Fear choked him, making him feel as though the water had already closed over his head. He backed further away from the watery grave. He could not follow.

  But he must! He must rescue the bairn. He only had moments to act. He must go into the water. He could not let the bairn die.

  Even as his mind made the decision, his feet froze, rooted to the ground. The dry ground. The dry, safe ground.

  Gritting his teeth until his jaw ached, he whispered to himself, "I willna be ruled by fear." Before he could think more he ripped his heavy belt from his waist, dropped his plaid to the ground, and dove headlong into the water.

  The moment the water closed over his head MacEwan felt the panic explode. He flailed. His lungs ached for air. He couldn’t do this. He had to get back on land before he died. He clawed, trying to rise, all the while, inside, hating himself for his cowardice.

  Striving mightily to reach the surface, he pulled himself as he had seen others do, those who could actually swim. But the water only darkened around him until he was surrounded by a moonless night.

  Was he going further down?

  Flailing harder, he struggled to control the panic, but it blossomed to full flower. He had no control, no strength to combat this terror. His heart pounded in desperate fear and his lungs felt about to burst.

  Against his will, his aching lungs released their stale air and gasped for more, but there was none. Like a fish he took water into his lungs.

  Then a strange calm settled over his mind.

  So this was what it was to die.

  With a serenity he had rarely known, he let his burning eyes close for the last time as he thought his way through the Pater Noster and felt himself gathered into the hands of the Lord.

  Chapter Three

  Aeryn dragged the handsome warrior to the dry floor of her grotto. She had barely gotten to him in time. Foolish man. ‘Twould be a pity if he drowned. He was too handsome to die so young.

  She turned him onto his side and smacked him smartly on the spine, then waited for him to reject the water in his lungs.

  But he did not.

  Rolling him over to his stomach she straddled him, settling her hands on his lower back and pushing upward. Were she not trying to save the warrior’s life, she would have taken time to admire the rippling muscles of the back on which she pushed and the hard bottom on which she perched. But until he expelled the loch water and took a breath of air into his lungs, she forced herself to ignore the sensations his body aroused in her.

  Still he would not breathe.

  Her anxiety began to grow.

  She put her full weight into the next push and was rewarded with a deep cough.

  With a sigh of relief she dismounted and sat back on her heels as he rolled to his side and a bout of coughing racked his shoulders.

  Soon his lungs were clear of the loch’s water and his breath came more easily.

  After a moment his clear blue eyes gazed up at her and she felt her heart clench in an unfamiliar sensation. Unfamiliar, but very pleasant.

  "Where is the child?" he croaked at her.

  Aeryn had to smile. "And here I thought you had thrown yourself into the loch in despair at losing me, yet now I find you only followed to take the child?" She arched him a sly glance. "Perhaps I should have left you to sink to the bottom and become a meal for the fish."

  "You pulled me from the water?" His tone clearly indicated disbelief, though as his glance scathed over her, shards of delight skittered along her skin.

  He snorted. "You couldna have pulled me ashore."

  "Of course I dinna pull you to the shore. I pulled you down here, to my grotto. Though it was a wee bit difficult to get you up onto dry ground."

  He stared at her as though she spoke the language of the fairies to him. Then his lovely eyes darted around. She followed his gaze as it moved through the grotto.

  They were in her great hall, a chamber fifty cubits long and fifteen cubits wide, filled with cave formations of shimmering translucent green and blue. To the right was a sheet of stone that she loved, for it seemed to flow from the ceiling like a great curtain of liquid rock. The fire lay to the left, and further back was a central pool fed by spring water--her bath. She sighed. The grotto was a wonderland of beauty that even a ground-dweller should appreciate.

  "Where have you brought me?"

  She snorted. "I already told you. We are in my grotto. Under the loch."

  "There is no entrance."

  Aeryn laughed. How silly humans were. If it sat not in their sight, they did not believe it existed.

  "The opening lies there." She pointed to a place where the cave wall met the water’s edge.

  He scowled. "Very well. I shall leave the way I came. Give me the child and tell me how to get out of this hole."

  Her back stiffened and she crossed her arms over her breasts. She couldn’t help but notice the hardness of her nipples as her forearms brushed against them. The sensation almost, but not quite, distracted her from his words.

  "Hole? You call my home a hole, sir? I will have you know that this cave is even more beautiful than my mother’s Cave of Skulls, or my aunt’s at Dundiggin and--"

  The handsome one tipped his head, sending a long lock of wet hair across his forehead. He swiped it back.

  "My apologies, lady. It is indeed a fine cave, as caves go. However my order has yet to be obeyed. Tell me where you have put the bairn and how to get out of here."

  Aeryn smiled. She could not resist the urge to spar with him. "That is the second time you have threatened me, handsome one. Do you not recall what happened the first time?"

  Just then a mewling cry from the makeshift cradle made him glance in that direction.

  He leapt to his feet and dashed to the cradle before she was able to stop him. He scooped up her treasure.

  "God’s eyes!" he shouted.

  Aeryn was by his side and caught the bairn just as the shocked warrior dropped him.

  "
Ah-ooo-ick!" She almost dropped the babe herself.

  How could she have forgotten how messy children could be?

  The handsome one took a step backward and said, "Clean the bairn and I will return him to his parents. Since you saved my life, I willna turn you over to the laird, but steal the child again and I will tell him about you."

  The accusation stabbed hot as a poker. "I did not steal the bairn."

  "Then how did you know he was there in the rushes?"

  "I heard his heart-call."

  "Heart-call?"

  Aeryn shifted the sodden, stinking bottom resting against her bosom. "A heart-call is the cry of one soul to another. The babe needed me."

  The child's cries grew more frantic, causing her to put her indignation and any further explanations aside for the moment. She turned and dug through her chest for a piece of material large enough for cleaning and swaddling.

  Once she had it, she turned and shoved the bairn into the handsome one’s arms, confident the warrior would not try to escape through the water. "Hold him for a moment."

  Quickly she poured a bowl of warm water and turned back to the warrior.

  Laughter burst from her throat. The big, bad warrior was holding the bairn straight out from him and she had never seen a person wrinkle their face in such an expression of distaste.

  "He dinna smell so bad as that," she said as she placed the supplies on her table.

  "Think you not? Here, then, you take him back."

  The handsome one pushed the babe toward her and she took him with a smile. "Him? Ah, yes, you have been saying he was a lad. Such is as I had hoped. What does your chieftain call him?"

  "His name is Malcolm."

  "A good name. I shall keep it for him." She chucked the little boy under the chin and laid him on the table. "There now, Malcolm. Let us get you all dry and when Nib returns with your nanny, we’ll have something for you to eat."

  The bonny babe smiled at her and reached for her finger.

  Aeryn laughed with delight. He would be such a joy to raise. She would have him trained in the arts of her people. Already she could see her wee Malcolm growing and learning and becoming--