“We are more powerful together. Ye ken that, aye?” Ronan kept his gaze locked with his father’s, refusing to back down and look away.
His father bared his teeth again, but he returned to his post at the window.
Mother gave a heavy sigh, then nodded for Faolan to begin.
“I invoke the power of the earth spirit. Ground us safely in what we seek.”As Faolan turned to their sister and nodded, a deep green aura surrounded him.
“I invoke the power of the air spirit,” Aveline said. “Breathe truth into what we seek.”As she turned to Latharn, shebecame illuminated with a glowing aura of white that was so bright it was almost blinding.
“I invoke the power of fire spirit,” Latharn said. “Purify us with yer power.”Flames licked and swirled around him as he turned and looked at their mother.
“I invoke the power of the water spirit,” Rachel said. “Bring us balance and dominion over the seas in what we seek.” Aglow with a deep blue aura, her voice echoed with the depths of the mystical energies humming around the circle and passing through them.
With the now white hot locket clutched to his chest, Ronan closed his eyes and threw his head back as the elemental powers surged through him, charging his senses with their powerful energy. In a voice deep and echoing with that power, the words he needed came forth from his heart and soul. “By the strength of my spirit, I release yer bonds and welcome yer soul into my arms. Come and take refuge. I grant ye sanctuary and will keep ye safe from those who bound ye. Never again will ye ever be so accursed.”
The locket split in two, exploding with a blinding white energy that swirled and burned, searing his skin and making his hair crackle as though determined to turn him to ash.Ronan held fast as the power unleashed a deafening howl and roared even hotter.
“I will not be consumed,”he roared, struggling to hold tight to a shifting form thrashing in his embrace. It had to be the soul. The soul was fighting to be free. “I am here to help ye,” he shouted to it. “I will keep ye safe.”
The soul writhed, pushed, and shoved, struggling to escape. He felt sure if the thing had teeth, it would have shredded him. “Dinna fear me,” he bellowed into the inferno’s deafening roar. “Allow me to help ye.”
Then silence fell with an abruptness that took Ronan to his knees.The power he had struggled to hold turned into a soft, warm weight that doubled him over. He opened his eyes and stared down at her. For it was a lass, a breathtaking lass with long, silky tresses as black as his own. Her dark lashes fluttered, but her eyes remainedclosed. Her lips, full and red and holding the promise of the sweetest kisses were barely parted.
A sudden panic took hold of him. Did she live? Or had prying her free of the locket torn her life away? “Dinna be dead,” he whispered as he cradled her closer and pressed an ear to her chest.
Her heart beat steady and strong—the same rhythm he had heard within the locket.
“Did she survive?” his mother asked.
“Aye,” Ronan said without looking up from the beauty in his arms. “Her heart beats true.”
CHAPTER 8
Harley rolled over onto her side and hugged her head. It felt like an over-inflated balloon ready to pop. “Lovely. A sinus headache. What a way to start the day. Thank you, Kentucky humidity and pollen.” She massaged her throbbing cheeks and brow bones, then groaned again and squinted her eyes shut even tighter. They burned like she’d spent the night in a smoky bar. The pollen must be super high on the riverbank today. And what day was it? Had the alarm gone off? Was she scheduled to work?
“What is wrong with me? I never wake up this wonky.” She shoved herself upright while still holding her head and risked opening an eye.
A strange man sat there; his startling green eyes locked on her in a curious stare.
Throat clenching terror kept her from screaming, but she came to her senses enough to shove both hands under her pillows, searching for the trusty prybar she kept there for security purposes. But her fingers didn’t hit the cool metal of the iron bar. It was gone. How could it be gone? She scrambled as far away from the man as she could get and scraped her elbow on the stone wall at her back. Stone wall? What?
She blinked and forced her eyes open wider, flitting glances all around while keeping the stranger firmly in her sight. High ceilings with huge wooden beams supporting them were overhead. Medieval looking tapestries were pulled back from open windows as if they were meant to be curtains. Torches burned in iron holders on the wall.Rough looking candles that definitely hadn’t come from the fancy gift shop downtown were sputtering on a nearby table. And come to think of it, the man with the long black hair, sitting in front of her with a build like a weightlifter, wasn’t exactly dressed like the average tourist who might wander along the riverbank in front of her camper.
“Where am I?” she asked, her voice broken and raspier than a rusty hinge. She coughed and thumped her chest. What was wrong with her? She cleared her throat and tried again. “Who…who are you, and how did I get here?”A loud hiccup broke free of her, a sure sign that the panic making her heart pound was about to make her puke. Nasty habit she had, tossing her innards whenever frightened out of her wits. “Answer me!” she screamed between erratic hiccups.
“Calm down, lass.Ye are safe now.”He rose from the chair and held out his hand.
She jerked away, pressing back against the cold roughness of the wall. “Keep away from me. I might not have my crowbar, but I’m not afraid to fight.” Although, from the looks of him, the fight wouldn’t last very long. She’d never met a man his size. Tall as…well, she couldn’t say exactly how tall he was, but he towered over her and probably had to bend to walk through high doorways. And his shoulders were so broad she couldn’t see around him.
“I mean ye no harm, lass,” he said quietly, as if she’d hurt his feelings. “As I said, ye are safe here. In my home. Castle MacKay.” He gave her the same smile he’d had when she first opened her eyes—a friendly smile. A kindly kind of smile. Concern and kindness appeared to fill those emerald eyes of his too. “My name is Ronan MacKay. What is yer name, lass?”
She chewed on her bottom lip and debated whetheror not to tell him. After another glance at her strange surroundings, she decided keeping her name a secret was pretty futile at this point.
“Harley,” she whispered.
“Mistress Harley,” he repeated with a Scottish brogue that was a little hard to understand because of the way he rolled hisr’s.But his deep voice made up for it. It was the kind of soothing, reverberating sound a person could float away on and listen to in their happiest dreams. “Do ye have a surname, Mistress Harley?”
“A surname?” She knew what he meant, but everything was so strange, so—frightening—for lack of a better word. The world didn’t even smell right anymore. The air was filled with wood smoke, grease burning—maybe from those candles—and a general earthiness layered with a clean, crisp fishiness that made her wonder if they were near water. “My surname?” she said again to buy herself more time to sort through this chaos.
