Page 2 of Taming the Highland Beauty

Why did children startle so easily? “It is all right. I am here to help you. I know the way back to your home,” Gille said in a calm voice.

The girl’s eyes narrowed suspiciously as she studied Gille’s face. What she saw must not have frightened her further because she visibly relaxed. “Who are ye?”

“I am a friend of the forest. I have come to help you. Would you like to go home?”

The child nodded, then got to her feet. Again, she studied Gille, but with more curiosity than fear. “Where did ye come from? Do ye live in the forest? Why are ye dressed like that? Why do ye have leaves in yer hair? Are ye a fairy?”

Suddenly Gille remembered why she usually avoided children. They were too perceptive and asked too many questions. Gille remained silent, hesitating, yet the young girl simply stared at her, waiting for a response. Gille blew out a breath and replied, “I was walking in the forest.” A lie. “I live in the area as you do.” A partial truth. “These are my clothes, and you also have leaves in your hair.” Two truths. “Do you believe in fairies?” she asked cynically, hoping to avoid answering the question. She need not add any new rumours to those already seeking her out.

The girl pressed her lips together, and indecision flared in her eyes. “I do believe in fairies. That’s how I got lost. I was followin’ a butterfly that was supposed tae lead me tae a fairy.” The little girl pointed to the orange and black butterfly nearby. “Or at least that’s what the other children said.” Tears welled in the little girl’s eyes once more.

Gille frowned. Another truth was the butterfly had led her to a fairy. “Come.” Gille held out her hand. “I can walk with you back to your home.”

The girl did not hesitate to take Gille’s hand in her own smaller one and allowed herself to be led through the dense forest until they came to the edge of the treeline. There, Gille stopped and released the little girl’s hand as she beheld the imposing silhouette of Dunvegan Castle rising in the distance and Dunvegan village before them. “Do you recognise where you are?” Gille asked the little girl.

The girl turned her face up to smile at Gille. “How did ye ken I lived in the village?”

She had guessed. Oberon had sent her into the Dunvegan forest with his curse so that she would be close enough to know what she missed, yet too far away to form connections with anyone within the gates of the castle or streets of the village. Besides, the other surrounding villages were too far away for a child experiencing neither hunger nor cold. Gille plucked a few leaves from the girl’s hair before turning her to face her home. “Go. I am certain someone is missing you terribly.”

The little girl nodded.

“And next time you and the other children play, stay closer to the village. The forest is not a safe place for children alone.”

The little girl looked back over her shoulder. “But ye are there tae help children like me. Children who get lost.”

“I cannot protect every child,” Gille said as a sudden heaviness weighed her down. “Tell the others to stay out of the forest. It is a dangerous place.”

The girl nodded, twisting her long blond hair over her shoulder. “Are ye coming with me?”

As if the forest were answering for her, a tendril of shadow, cast by the ancient beech behind her, fell over Gille’s face. She swallowed roughly as a stinging regret mixed with a deep sense of grief in her throat. “I will return to my own home. Go now. And do not wander again.”

The little girl took off in the direction of the village, skipping through the dappled sunlight as Gille pressed herself deeper into the gnarled embrace of the hollowed-out beech tree at her back. She had spent many days and nights nestled inside the old tree, watching the castle in the distance where her sister and mother lived freely amongst the MacLeod clan.

A wave of longing washed over Gille. She yearned to follow the little girl, to be a part of a family for the first time in her life. But the curse tethered her yet again to another place she could not escape for more than a few days. Nay, it was better for her to remain here, amongst the animals who had come to accept her.

At least she no longer lived in darkness, but in a place filled with light for a portion of each day. She tipped her face up, seeking the sun as it dipped towards the horizon. A few hours of daylight remained. Instead of turning back to the trees, she nestled in the cradle of the hollowed-out beech and let her gaze linger on Dunvegan Castle.

A stream of visitors headed for the gates. The MacLeods were obviously having a gathering with a neighbouring clan. A pang of jealousy moved through Gille. How she wanted to participate in such things. Instead of attending, she would sit in the tree and imagine the festivities. And if she were lucky, she might hear a few refrains of bright music as it floated from the castle to the surrounding vicinity. That would have to be enough for Gille tonight and any other night for as long as she remained under Oberon’s curse.

*

Time and space seemed to melt away as Callum MacLeod closed his eyes and continued to strum the strings of his mandolin. The innovative harmonies of Bach’s “Chaconne in D Minor” demanded his full attention. Callum’s brother, Orrick, had commissioned a hand-copied version of the piece from one of his friends in Edinburgh as a gift. Callum was forever grateful for the addition to his musical library.

Preparing to play, Callum shut his eyes on those gathered in the great hall for Gwendolyn’s cèilidh. The social gathering with Clan Nicolson was touted as a way to thank their allied clan for their help in locating the English regiments scattered through the Highlands over the past year, but Callum suspected the gathering was merely a way for his sister-in-law to introduce him, her brother, and sister to other young, unmarried people in that clan. Callum wanted nothing to do with anything other than entertaining or protecting his clan. And today called for much entertainment.

Callum resisted the urge to open his eyes, forcing his excess energy out through his fingers, translating it into something beautiful and emotional. Music did that for him, released the dammed-up reservoir of emotions he held inside, until he felt weightless and free. Only when the song came to an end did he open his eyes to the sound of applause and to see his kin gathered around him.

Alastair, his oldest brother and their clan leader, smiled in appreciation. Callum could finally smile back. It had taken two years since his brother’s return to Dunvegan to let go of Callum’s resentment at being left to run the castle and manage the family alone after their father had died. Callum had barely reached his majority at the time and had not had any training in running a vast network of estates. Their loyal staff had stepped in to help him, but that had not decreased his anger with Alastair, or the rest of his brothers and sister, who had gone away for various reasons. Music had been his only constant.

Callum’s gaze travelled about the great hall. Tapestries from ages past lined the walls, and chandeliers hung overhead, casting a golden light about the chamber. It was a cosy room, despite its grand size. It had been a haven he’d sought many times when he needed solace.

His brothers Tormod, Orrick, and Keiran had all returned over the past two years, as had Graeme, the captain of the guard, and Aria, their long-lost sister. Wives had been added. He smiled at Gwendolyn, Fiona, and Isolde as they continued to express their appreciation of his talents. The only two people missing were his sister, Rowena, and her husband Marcus, who were sailing the seas in search of adventure.

Also, never far from their sides since she’d been freed from the Fairy Tower, was their ghostly mother. Lady Janet lived a kind of half-life, stuck between the human and the spirit realm. Callum nodded to the spirit.

Your talent never ceases to amaze me. Lady Janet’s words were not spoken but entered the minds of all around her, allowing her to communicate with her family.

“Tell us a story, Mother. Something we have not heard before—something related to Dunvegan,” Tormod asked from his seat next to Fiona, wanting to continue the revelry.