Page 5 of Taming the Highland Beauty

He shook off the thought. Her looks mattered not. It was her magic he needed. “Lady Janet needs your help. Aria and Pearl have both tried to stop her from fading away, but they were unsuccessful. Without your intervention, she will die.”

“Your mother is a ghost, and already dead. I cannot save her. You have wasted your time coming here.” Her voice was tight. “Go home and forget all about me again.”

Gille started to turn around, but Callum caught her arm. “My mother is fading away. Without your help she will be restlessly trapped in the spirit realm for all eternity.”

Gille jerked away from him, and her eyes narrowed once more. “I do not know if I even have magic any longer. Oberon has taken everything from me, why not that too?”

He frowned. “You mean you have never tried to escape these woods by using your magic?”

“If your mother remembers me, she should have also remembered that I am cursed. I cannot leave.”

“You can leave for a short time.” His frown deepened. “Why did you not try to come back to Dunvegan?”

Anger flashed in her eyes. “I . . . you know nothing about—” The anger in her eyes was replaced by a sudden flash of fear at the sound of leaves rustling in the distance. “I must go.” She pulled her hood up over her red hair and raced past him into the denser woodlands.

“Wait!” Callum sprinted after her. He usually had no trouble keeping up with his older brothers, but this woman was light on her feet, flying over the root buttresses that slowed him down as if they were no obstacle at all. She wove her way through the trees, gaining distance, until she somehow seemed to vanish.

Callum stopped, listening for any sound that might betray her location, but it was difficult to discern any other sounds above the noise of the footsteps coming towards him.

He turned back to see seven men dressed in dark-coloured breeches, muslin shirts, and waistcoats. It was not their simplistic dress that startled Callum, it was the torches, scythes, and pitchforks in their hands. “What are you doing in these woods?” Callum asked.

“’Tis none of yer business,” the older, grey-haired man in front, carrying the torch, replied.

“But it is my business since you are trespassing on Dunvegan lands.”

One of the men with a pitchfork and dark hair frowned. “Ye’ve nae right tae tell us where we can and cannot go in the woodlands near our village. We ’ave a right tae roam.” The man took a step forward and threateningly jabbed his pitchfork at Callum.

Callum avoided the tines as his hand moved to the hilt of his sword. “You have a right to roam, aye. But hunting the animals or destroying the woodlands is another thing entirely.”

“And who are ye to tell us what we can do?” a third man asked as he stepped forward beside the other two older men threatening Callum.

If Callum had not had older brothers, he might have been intimidated, but he was used to holding his ground as the youngest. “You do not remember me? I am Callum MacLeod. The stand-in laird until my brother’s recent return.”

All three men’s faces paled slightly. “It’s been a while since we’ve lived at the castle. Ye’ve changed. Yer—”

“Taller now,” one of the younger men, a redhead in the back, replied.

Another younger man next to the redhead narrowed his gaze on Callum. “None of the MacLeods come into these woods. Yer more of an ocean clan, ye are.”

“Not all of us are ocean people.” Callum lifted his chin and widened his stance, ready to fight if necessary. The odds were not in his favour, but he was certain he could take the first three older men down before the four younger ones charged him. “Go back to your village. No one need be injured today.”

The men laughed. “Lad, ye might be a MacLeod, but we outnumber ye,” the grey-haired man said, waving his torch. “Let us pass. Once we ’ave the fairy, we’ll leave the woodlands and nae return.”

“How do you even know a fairy lives here?” Callum asked, stalling as he considered his options. Alastair would not be pleased if Callum harmed any of his people.

“There’s a fairy, all right,” the dark-haired man in the front replied. “Saw ’er with me own eyes when she brought my lost daughter back tae the village.”

Callum quirked his brows. “If this supposed fairy saves your lost children, why would you want to harm her?”

“We don’t want tae harm her. We just want her magic tae better our lives,” the young redhead in the back said.

“If such a fairy does exist, then she cannot leave these woods for longer than seven days or she will turn into a tree and remain that way for all ages,” Callum informed them of the story his mother told him a short while ago.

The redhead’s features pinched. “I dinna know—”

“It matters not,” the grey-haired man interrupted, waving his torch. “If she dies, then another fairy will only replace her. Lots of fairies in these parts of the woods.”

“If this fairy exists,” Callum said, “she is under the protection of the MacLeods, and the laird will be forced to retaliate if she is harmed in any way. He could very well strip you of your livelihood and force you from your homes.”