“Aye. A knoll of the Fae.” Duncan shivered then picked up the castoff bow. “Who have you found?”
“I dinnae ken.” Gregor glanced at the ghillies and horses at the edge of the knoll. “She swooned.”
“At the sight of you, aye?”
“Aye…nae!” He shook his head. How was he to explain the magic of this day? “We must take her to the castle for tending.”
“Must we?” Duncan raised a brow. “We should set camp away from this place of enchantment and continue the hunt on the morrow.”
“She is injured.” Gregor held the man’s stare.
Duncan’s brow furrowed as he peered at the lass. “It appears naught but a flesh wound.”
“Still…” Gregor had no intention of leaving the lass behind. Alone. Unprotected.
The big man’s sigh resonated from deep within his chest. “Of course, we must take her to the castle,” he finally yielded. “Lady Isobell will ken what to do.”
The captain strode to the horses. With the lass cradled in his arms, head resting upon his shoulder, Gregor followed. She smelled sweet. Like flowers and summertime. Of days of happiness.
“She rides with me.” He handed her to Duncan and mounted his horse.
The man’s lips quirked when he lifted the lass and placed her in front of Gregor. “As you wish.”
One ghillie rode in front, one to the rear, both holding torches raised high. The mist seemed to dissolve from around them. Where the trail widened, Duncan rode alongside.
“Will you tell me what happened back there?”
“I believe you flushed a white stag my way.”
“Ah, the mystical beast believed to be a messenger from the otherworld. An encounter with a white stag is said to portend profound change in one's life.” The man’s gaze flicked to the lass for a moment.
“There is more,” Gregor said.
“Then tell the rest.”
“I waited where you left me behind the boulder in the wood. The white stag appeared and I readied my shot. What I thought were dragonflies landed on the shaft of my arrow. I believe they were pixies. Annoying wee sprites. They caused me to startle the stag, and he ran off.”
Duncan’s jaw tightened, but he said naught.
“You dinnae seem surprised.”
“I am not.”
“You believe in such things then?”
“Aye. And more.”
“I chased the animal. Time seemed to…languish. The next thing I kenned was the beast on the faerie hill, then vanishing, and the lass…” Gregor gazed at the comely woman enwrapped within his arms. “Appeared as if by magic.”
“A similar event happened here near to ten years ago.”
“Do tell.”
“Our chief’s twin brother, Patrick, found a lass on the knoll after seeing her in visions.”
Gregor swallowed uneasily. Some of his MacLachlan kin were known to have the sight. Mostly women, but occasionally men were born with thegift.
As a youth, Gregor kenned Patrick. The man had been an impressive warrior. A hero to Gregor. Years later, mystery shrouded the events leading to Patrick stepping down from the position of clan chief, naming Archibald, his twin brother, chief, and moving with his new wife to France. With time, rumors surfaced. Subtle at first then more insistent. Conjecture that they hadn’t gone to France at all, but had traveled farther abroad—as in to another realm—to live amongst the Fae in faerie land.
