Page 29 of Taming the Highland Beauty

A swirling mist appeared, then as it cleared it revealed a tall man whose skin shimmered with a silvery glow, as if sprinkled with stardust. His eyes were a piercing sapphire blue. A crown of shimmering leaves adorned his head, and his robes, nothing made by man, but perhaps woven from moonlight and mist, flowed gracefully around him. Oberon’s presence was both majestic and intimidating, a testament to his power as king of the fae.

Callum tucked the package inside the tail of his tartan then jumped from horseback to the ground to stand beside Gille, his heart pounding in his chest. “You have no authority in the human realm. Leave.”

“I rule wherever I wish.” Oberon glared at them, his eyes burning with malice. “You have found Lottie’s pelt,” he hissed, his voice like a venomous serpent as his gaze settled on the bulge beneath Callum’s tartan. “You think to break Gille’s curse, do you?”

Callum stepped forward, his voice steady. “We must.”

Oberon scoffed. “And what of me? I desire that pelt for myself. It is powerful and could grant me untold power.”

Callum straightened, knowing the pelt was safely out of the fairy king’s grasp because of the iron band he wore on his left wrist. “I will never hand over this pelt to you.”

Oberon’s anger flared. “You dare to defy me? You shall regret this insolence. I will do anything, to keep you from learning the song that will break Gille’s curse.”

“A song?” Gille asked a little breathlessly. “I knew the song the selkies sang on the day we met was somehow a part of all this.”

“Damn my loose tongue,” Oberon growled. “You will never get the chance to learn anything further because when I am through with you, you will both be dead.” With a flick of the fairy king’s wrist, the forest seemed to rise against them. The skeletal trees twisted and turned, their branches reaching out like grasping hands.

Behind them, the horses whinnied in fear. “Go,” Callum called to his brother and his men. “Save yourselves.” His words were carried away by the wind as the burnt, disfigured trees bent towards Callum and Gille, their branches, whip-like tendrils, lashing out.

Callum drew his sword and swung, his blade biting into the wooden assailants. His weapon slashed through the branches, sparing him and Gille from a beating.

“No!” Oberon cried and, raising his hand once more, he swirled it in a circle at the forest floor.

No sooner did Oberon’s motions stop than the ground trembled as unseen forces manipulated the earth, creating a deepening pit to their left and raising boulders on their right.

Callum took a moment to note that Tormod and his men, instead of retreating, kneeled in the dirt, sketching out how they meant to re-engage. Turning his attention back to the situation before him, Callum’s mind raced. He could not wait for Tormod to save him and Gille. He had to work that puzzle himself and quickly. Boulders shifted and rolled towards them.

With a cry that was part anguish, part anger, Gille rose up, stretching her palms towards Oberon. Odd words erupted from her mouth as she called on the ancient magic within her. Her hands began to glow with the same ethereal light Callum had seen when she had healed both the fawn and the young girl. Instead of sweeping them into the pit, the boulders dissolved into dust.

Oberon’s shriek of rage echoed all around them as he unleashed another assault, summoning a whirlwind of leaves and debris that swirled around the pair, obscuring their vision and lashing at their skin.

As the vortex closed in, Callum could hear Gille’s breath coming in ragged gasps beside him. She was growing tired from fighting Oberon’s magic. In that moment of vulnerability, she reached for his hand. She raised her other hand towards where Oberon had been before their vision was obscured. Callum searched her face and saw her eyes glowed with an intensity that rivalled the tempest around them.

A surge of power erupted from her, a counterforce to Oberon’s magic. The whirlwind faltered, then dissipated, leaving behind a dead silence as Gille and Callum staggered before Oberon.

The king of the fae’s eyes blazed with cold, calculating anger. “You will not succeed against me.” He raised his hand, a flicker of power dancing at his fingertips.

Just as Oberon was about to strike, the pack of boars charged, their tusks gleaming in the moonlight.

Oberon’s eyes flared, his expression a mix of surprise and annoyance. He re-raised his hand to defend himself, but the animals were too fast. They knocked him to the ground, their hooves pounding into his body.

Gille and Callum seized the opportunity. They turned and ran deeper into the woods. Tormod and his men had taken to their horses and now waited nearby with the riderless horse. Callum mounted and drew Gille up in front of him before flicking the reins, setting the horse in motion. As they raced through the forest, they could hear Oberon’s enraged shouts fading behind them.

“The boars.” Gille’s voice cracked, and a wave of agony passed over her features.

“They will find a way to survive, as will Oberon.” Callum drew her back, holding her more tightly against his chest. The leather-bound package was safely nestled between their bodies. Perhaps all was not lost . . .

*

Gille watched as Callum led them through the forest to return Declan and his daughter to Dunvegan village. A sliver of moonlight guided their way through the charred trees and underbrush. The skin on Gille’s back crawled, signalling how vulnerable it felt to be out in the open. The rigidness of Callum’s chest behind her and the arms around her told her he felt it too. She should be alert to dangers, but she could not help but steal a glance back at Callum’s face.

She could not read his emotions as easily as his body language. He glanced down at her briefly, offering her an encouraging smile that disappeared as quickly as it had come when he returned his gaze to the path ahead.

He’d admitted to loneliness over the past many years since his mother had died and he’d been left alone at Dunvegan. As he was the only male still in residence, she suspected the running of the estate had fallen to him at an early age. Had he had training? An adviser? Or had he been forced to determine how to move forward on his own much as she had in Fairyland?

Callum had not said as much but she suspected he’d had a hard, harsh life trying to navigate the estate and tempering his father’s brutality while that man had lived. Not to mention the guilt Callum must bear over the death of his mother because of his father’s neglect. He’d had every right to be self-absorbed and angry when they had first met. And yet, in the days since then, he had gentled. He’d shown her that side of himself last night when he had kissed her. She craved more warmth and tenderness, having received little of those things herself over the nineteen years of her life.

Oberon was determined to rob her of any joy, warmth, and happiness she might find in her future—with the MacLeods or anyone else. Yet, it was the fairy king’s obsession with vengeance that strengthened her resolve to succeed. She might only have two more sunrises to undo the curse upon her, but she had to believe that was all the time she needed to see the task completed.