Morag's Tears (Celtic Storm Series Book 5) Read online

  Ye’ may ask me why I would name Ruiri MacCollum as a hero when so many thought him to be some sort of a fiend. The truth of the matter is that Ruiri always fought for justice. If he sought vengeance, it was for many a just cause. Ruiri would nay fight on the side of evil, for you see, Ruiri MacCollum, fabled Highland Wolf was a man of deep rooted honor. That being told, Ruiri searched the brush and found the dead driver as well as the injured lass that day. Something about the way she lay there so still, bloodied and pale hitched the place in Ruiri’s heart, where he had walled the memories of Caitlyn and he knew he had to save this poor woman even if the odds were stacked against her. So he brought her home.

  I knew from the moment I saw my strong lad carrying that broken girl into MacCollum Keep that she was going to change Ruiri’s life. I did nay know at the time that she was the granddaughter of my cherished friend, Gavin Campbell, but I was soon going to find it out and be sworn to keep the girl’s secret until she was ready to reveal it to Ruiri herself. The poor wee thing was in so much pain and she had lain on the side of the road for untold hours, as the freezing March air chilled her to the bone. She knew who Ruiri was by the mark he bore on his left arm as well as by the plaid he proudly displayed. Ye’ see all MacCollum men wore a Celtic band on the upper left part of their arms branded when they were old enough to claim their manhood. Ruiri was no different. Even in her fogged pain, Gabrielle Campbell knew her enemy; as sure as she knew him to be her savior.

  I did what I could to help the lass, but I feared she would nay live till morning. She was hurt badly from the wreck. She bore purplish bruising on much of her body and she bore scars, too. These scars were old, though, and not from the latest of her mishaps, but the worst of them were ones she bore in her heart. Someone had deliberately harmed this girl for she had a jagged scar that was white with time below her chin. She would often, in the days following her healing, trace that scar whenever she was upset or if she thought it was very noticeable.

  But I digress. The girl was beautiful despite her bruising and that mean old scar. Anyone could see it, except for the lass herself. I had come to learn that someone had convinced Brielle she was dowdy and unmarriageable. I was pretty sure I knew who would do such a thing, but I knew t’would be my duty to help not only Ruiri see the beauty within, but to make the lass see it within herself.

  Thus when she had been wed to Marcus Val Cour, Brielle thought that marriage prospect was her last hope at garnering a family of her own. Ahhh, my blessed Fates had other plans for her--and for Ruiri as well, thanks be to the Powers.

  Well, I could tell that Ruiri was enamored with the broken little bird that he had brought home. He ne’er left her side and though he claimed t’was just because she needed his help, I knew differently. Even an old woman, such as m’self could see that Ruiri was smitten. It would seem that Ruiri did nay need my help after all, to see the beauty of the girl he had brought to our home. And as Ruiri was drawn to the lass, so was she attracted to him. Why, even though she knew t’was the feared Highland Wolf who had come to her rescue; she, a hated Campbell, she could nay deny the pull he had on her.

  When I had sought to bring her clean clothes from her only surviving trunk left at the site of the wreck, I found the proof of her burden in the form of an old Campbell plaid she had hidden beneath the packed garments. I knew that she had every reason to fear Ruiri MacCollum. Everyone knew that he had sworn vengeance on all things named Campbell and so I kept the girl’s secret from him. I also knew that she would have to tell him who she was when she was good and ready.

  So, in the meantime, I did what every concerned woman would do when it came to matters of the heart. Aye, I meddled again but ye’ canna’ fault me for it. Well, look, I had to really, else the pride of one and the fear of the other would have kept two hearts apart that had need of each other. So, I made certain that all of our little guest’s gowns fit her to perfection. Poor little thing; t’is no wonder she thought herself to be dowdy. Her clothes were nothing more than sacks which hung on her like drab rags. Nay, a girl with beauty such as Brielle’s needed to have the proper attire befitting a lady who would one day marry the son of the Laird of MacCollum. I knew that clan division be damned. This was the mate intended for the man, not the boy, who was Ruiri.

  I have to chuckle at the memory. The poor lad’s eyes nearly popped out of his head when he spied Brielle’s -- hmm, shall we say, best assets set before him like a tray of ripe plums for the taking. I dare say I may have gone a wee bit too far in the alterin’ for the lass could ne’er lean over lest her lovely breasts spring free from her bodice.

  Ah, Caleb was on to me, he was. He scolded me to have a care for even men like Ruiri had limits and truth be told, Brielle had much recovering to do from her mishap so her gait was labored. My little tailoring caused Brielle to walk even slower, lest she expose herself, so I ceased to ply my hand at sewin’ her gowns. Besides, she could ill afford to tempt the man who was big and strong. Even I feared a couplin’ while her injuries were still fresh.

  While Brielle healed with the love of the MacCollum hospitality and the unspoken love of the Wolf, we learned what a blessing she truly was. Even the Laird grew to love her. She was a soft spoken lass, but she was not without strength. Nay, she was strong; strong in her will to survive and even stronger in the love she would bestow on the wounded Wolf of the Highlands. Some of his scars were in need of healin’ and it was the love from this most unlikely mate that would finally put his demons to rest, I think.

  Gabrielle had such an uncanny way with the beasties. I swear she could speak to them and they seemed to understand her gentle whisperings. If something bothered Brielle or if she found herself feeling sad or upset, she went to be with the beasties. She would spend hours talking to the horses and she even was able to tame one wild stallion that the most experienced rider could not.

  It was not an uncommon sight to see the girl holding onto the great wild beast’s mane, riding barebacked across the meadow. It nearly gave our Ruiri a fit of the heart when he accidentally stumbled upon her riding this way after only recently being healed from the carriage wreck. But there was nothing to fear. The girl positively had the animal under her control. It was quite something to see.

  Many times, I had even spied the wild woodland creatures approach her if she sat quietly with a prized offering of some kind of nut or fruit. Why, I once saw a little squirrel come upon her and nibble a walnut out of the palm of her hand. T’was truly remarkable for I had ne’er known a body to gain the trust of the forest beasties the way this lass could and so I would often stand silently hidden in awe as time and again, the animals came to feed from Brielle’s gentle fingers. And like any other animal that needed tamin’, so too, most of all did our wild Highland Wolf. What better person to be called to such a task than Brielle? I think that were Ruiri a true wolf, come upon the lass while roamin’ in the wild, he would have been gentled and tamed upon her coaxin’.

  No one would have believed it could be possible; well, no one but me, that is, for I knew it from the moment Brielle entered MacCollum carried in the arms of her saving angel. They were meant for each other and nothing, not anything from the past or the future could prevent the love to grow and blossom once the seeds had been planted.

  And with the love, came the greatest healing of all. For both of them! Ruiri would still hate most of the other Campbells, especially the horrible brothers of Brielle, and rightly so, I suppose. I mean, the Fates decided long ago that while one love was to die at the hands of the Campbells, the other love was to grow. Now, as I think upon it, I see the wisdom of it, really. The beautiful irony forged a great love that few can claim.

  With time, Brielle forgot how her brothers, Roderick and Derek, had treated her. She forgave one for his part in her torment, but the other she cursed to hell, for he threatened the love she had found in the arms of her enemy and Brielle would not allow her brother Roderick Campbell’s twisted hatred to cause harm to Ruiri or to any other MacCol
lum, for that matter.

  It seemed that Roderick Campbell would not rest until Ruiri was dead. Brielle could not abide that. Roderick tried to trap Ruiri and to use Brielle as bait to draw him to his death. Brielle was never going to let that happen. She knew how tainted her brother had become. There was no redemption for a man like Roderick Campbell and I believe if Gavin Campbell was still alive, he would have to agree. When Roderick was killed by a neighboring laird of the clan MacDougal, Brielle vowed to never think upon him again. He could rot in hell for all she cared and he probably would for his offenses here on Earth. Aye, there was no redemption for that one, I am certain.

  Derek Campbell was another story, which I will tell you in time because my tale would nay be complete without it. But first I must try to explain the manipulation of time, which I have mentioned afore. Aye, that’s what I will do next, though I do nay know how to explain such a thing for it is fantastical and ye’ may think I am truly a mad old woman to even suggest it. Alas, I am not and so I will try to remember the first time I traveled into a time that was nay my own.

  Chapter Fifteen – Manipulating Time

  I used to think that there were elements or charms needed to manipulate time. I can remember the first time it happened. I was nay even certain I had not dreamed the whole lot up. For ye’ see I was verra’ young at the time. T’was shortly after my dear mother and father brought me to that first Beltane. I was picking flowers in the meadow to bring to my mother and I wandered through the woods. I found myself amid some old ruins that intrigued me. They seemed to be standing stones of some sort and with my handful of flowers, I explored the stones.

  I pretended I was a princess and I danced within their circle, swirling under the cloudless sky, skipping with the swooping and gliding of the birds overhead. I remember twirling and twirling, with my head thrown back and arms outstretched as if I could fly with my feathered companions. I imagined myself inside the halls of a grand castle, even grander than MacCollum, which I had been to a time or two as a young child.

  I grew dizzy from the spinnin’ and just as I was about to fall down to the sod below me, giggling from my sport, I opened my eyes and found myself in a library of sorts within the walls of a castle. There was something different about this place than the castle I had grown up knowin’. There were things in it that seemed nay from my time, and I was too young to know just from what time they were from.

  The walls were lined with books and tomes and there was a warm fire blazing in a hearth on the far wall. The room was filled with wonderful things; rich rugs and tapestries and a table was set with fine fare. There were goblets upon the table made of shining glass; crystal I have been told it is called, the likes I had never seen before. It almost seemed they were crafted out of cut ice. I wanted to explore these things. Suddenly, I could hear voices approaching and I grew frightened. So I hid behind a tapestry and clasped hard to the woven fabric, squeezing my eyes tight. I knew if I was caught, I would have bought myself a fair deal of trouble. Besides, I dinna’ know if the people who lived there were friends or foe.

  I wished myself with all my might, to return to the meadow and when next I opened my eyes, I was lying on my back, with my flowers crushed in my small fist. I was very frightened and so I ran back home to my mother. When she saw my stricken face, she hugged me and quieted me while I tried to tell her that I had traveled to another place that felt as if it was also in another time.

  She whispered words of comfort to me and then after I had cried my fill, she sat me down and told me that she would try to explain what she thought had happened. I wanted to believe that I had just fallen asleep in the glade and dreamed it all up, but my mother said, mayhap it was more than a dream. She asked me where I had been when I moved from one place to another in time and I told her about the standing stones. She asked me if there were any other creatures about and I said I remembered the circling birds swooping above me. I remembered beautiful winged butterflies that seemed to hover about my small nosegay of wild flowers. Fae, she said. The Good Folk, she called them.

  As many of the Irish settlers that came to Scotland so long ago, the MacCollum, brought from a long line of these Irish ancestors also honored the Good Folk. My mother thought perhaps They had delighted in my dancing within the stones and sought to sport with me by carrying me to that grand book filled room.

  My mother asked me if I heard singing or the sounds of music before I landed in that splendid room and I told her I had not. At least, except for my own songs that I had hummed while I danced. My mother smiled and she said, “My beautiful gifted child, ye’ have pleased the faerie folk with your dance and song, I think. T’is them who whisked ye’ away. Have a care ne’er to displease them and they will be with ye’ always. If ye’ hear the sweet sounds like the jangling of bells or the voices of beautiful singing, ye’ will know they are near.”

  Though, I believed what my mother had said that day, I was nay certain I really wanted a faery to whisk me away to an enchanted place. Also, even when I wished to hear the music they sang, I must say, I ne’er did.

  It happened again a few years later; the movement through time. Nay, there was no faery music but, for ye’ see, the Stones intrigued me. I ne’er forgot that day, from long ago, when I danced with the faery folk in the glen. I had been led to believe it was the Sidhe. I was a girl of about ten years at this time and I got my courage to again explore inside the sacred circle of standing monoliths. The hills were shrouded in snow and though the air was chilled with winter, I made my way to the spot that had called to me since that fateful day some years back.

  I placed my hands on the stones and thought I would feel the magic thrumming through the cold rocks, but I did not. Nor did I hear the singing of the Good Folk. Nay, as I recall, it seemed deeply silent, like it always gets when snow carpets the land. The only sound I could hear was my boots crunching against the newly fallen snow and my own heartbeat drumming in my ears. I pulled my cloak tighter about me and I moved away from the stones, making my way to the center of the place. I closed my eyes and spread my arms wide, throwing my head back toward the sky. I heard no faery voices.

  There were no birds circling above me and no winged beings flitting hither and yon. Instead, I imagined myself in a warm room, and I waited to see if the faery would transport me to the place. When I opened my eyes, I was not in the grand room of books, but rather I was in front of my mother, whose eyes were red rimmed as if she had been crying. When she saw me, she grabbed me into her arms and hugged me. She sobbed then and I was alarmed. What had happened to make my mother cry so? She then asked me where I had been and I told her I had been playing by the Standing Stones and that I had only been gone a little while.

  She shook my shoulders, then. She had ne’er been cross with me, so I was confused why she was reacting this way now. She was the one who sent me out to get some fresh air and play in the snow in the first place. She scolded me and said, “Dunna’ do that to me again, Morag?”

  I did nay understand what she meant. I had nay done anything; except play within the standing stones. What she said next took the fight from me and I fell to my knees, to grip the floor for it truly seemed as if the room had pitched beneath me. She said I had been gone several days and they had thought me to be dead. Many men from the clan were searching for me still and my father was among them. I had only been gone less than a few hours, I was certain.

  I was not even cold through from hours playing in the snow. How could this be possible? I had not remembered being carted off by the faery. I was only trying to see if I could find that grand room littered with books and scrolls again, as I had when I was a younger child. It had seemed so warm at the time, but where I landed was safely back home. When I explained what I had tried to do, my mother hushed me and sent the townswoman that had come to comfort her away. They needed to call off the search for I was safe and sound in the warmth of my own home.

  My mother eyed me, then and I could see all anger slowly dissolve from h
er face. She looked older in that moment than I had ever remembered seeing her and I knew things were going to change soon, even though I could nay imagine that her time on this earth would be cut short in just a few more years. My mother had a strange look on her face and I heard her murmur, nay it was not the Good Folk after all. I did nay understand, but it was that night that I had dreamed of the sky filled with the great silver birds.

  It was then that my mother had explained that she was beginning to be certain that I was one of those who could manipulate time. I did not know what I had done or how I had done it and so, those days when I was supposedly lost, I never got back. To me, only a few hours at most were spent playing in the snow, but days had gone by since I was returned home and I know nay what happened betwixt those lost moments of my childhood. I decided then, that I did nay wish to have such a gift. I did nay wish to be taken to a time if I could nay get back to my home. I was frightened that I could someday be cast to a place that would be foreign and since I did nay understand the way of it, I surely did nay want to be stuck in a time where I could nay return to the loving arms of my family. But alas, try as I might to evade the Gift, time shifting seemed to be my lot. It would cause me great joy and even greater heartache in the years to follow, as I was soon to learn.

  So, even after my mother was gone, I seemed to be able to walk through time when the need arose. The problem was that I could nay just do it at will, or so I thought. I returned to the standing stones, thinking that they were the catalysts I needed to aid me, but t’was not so. I learned over the years that the Stones were only what I perceived to be the portal that sent me through time. I know now that the sacred Stones had nothing to do with this odd and frightening gift granted to me by the Ones who walked the Path long before I ever came to be. Truth be told, I dunna’ think it is wisdom I can even impart to any of my acolytes to this day. I do know as time moved on, I simply imagined myself traveling forward in time because I mostly always landed in a time that was in the future.