Page 32 of Enchanted

“This is uisge beatha, which is Gaelic for the water of life,” he replied as he poured himself a splash, then set the bottle aside. He raised his glass in a toast. “To being Scottish.” He tossed down the liquor in a single swallow.

She pressed her lips together as she sniffed the contents of her glass. “This does not smell like water.”

“Because it is whisky.” He laughed. “Every good Scot knows how to distil grain, water, and yeast into this essential drink. Even when fairies come to the human realm, they try to leave with a bottle or two to savour back home, though I was never given any until my return two weeks ago.”

Rosalyn lifted the glass to her lips, and instead of throwing back the contents, she took a small sip. The initial taste was smoky and earthy on her tongue, but when the liquid hit her throat, it felt more like a fireball had plunged down her throat and temporarily sucked all the air from her lungs.

When she could draw a breath and the sensation returned to her tongue and mouth she choked out, “This must take some getting used to.”

Keiran laughed again, but the sound was cut off by what sounded like the screams of a tortured animal.

“What is that sound? I heard it last night but could not identify it.” Rosalyn shifted in the direction of the sound. By the time she located a man atop the tallest tower of the castle, the raw screeching had turned to a clean and distinct wailing that sounded more like music.

“Every night following supper, a piper appears on the Fairy Tower to signal the close of the day. He plays the fairy lullaby that was sung by the fairy princess, who centuries ago married Iain Cair MacLeod and was forced by Oberon to leave her child behind. When the child cried, the fairy princess swaddled him in what we now call the Fairy Flag and sang him this song.”

“Your family has many connections to Fairyland, doesn’t it? The Fairy Flag, Aria, and you.”

Even in the darkness she could see him nod. “I suppose that is why I was stolen from my family—to keep those connections alive even centuries later.”

“No matter how much it hurts the MacLeods,” she said as the sound of the bagpiper faded away, leaving a heavy silence.

Keiran set his glass aside and leaned back against the rock, staring up at the night sky. “Do you find it strange that both of us have family and yet we have lived much of our lives alone? You have been with family longer than you’ve been without, and I have been without longer than I have been with my family, yet we are in the same place.”

Rosalyn nodded more to herself than to him. She knew the feeling of loneliness well. Even in England, surrounded by people, she had often felt an emptiness that bordered on panic. She risked a glance sideways only to find Keiran looking at her and not the night sky.

“I should have said this before . . . I am sorry about what happened to you with your betrothed.”

Rosalyn stared down into her tankard. “You have nothing to be sorry about. Lieutenant Long might have been my betrothed when I came to Scotland, but as far as I am concerned, whether the courts approve my petition or not, that relationship is now severed.” Unsettled by her own thoughts, she quickly raised her tankard to her lips and quickly tossed back the contents, hoping it would help her forget about the man who’d tried to kill her.

When the fire in her throat eased, she set her own tankard down and leaned back against the rock, gazing at the stars overhead. It did not take long for the warmth of the whisky to flow through her blood, dulling her senses. “Though I am not quite ready to declare myself a Scot, I must admit that I have had more fun tonight with you than any night I can ever remember.”

She could not see, but she sensed his smile in the darkness. Silence once again fell between them. They reclined there, staring up at the night sky as two companions might. Keiran’s presence was welcome, even comforting if she were honest. She’d had little time for comfort and friendship in her life, and she had found both this day amongst the MacLeods.

Rosalyn tried to read Keiran’s features for some clue about his emotions, but his face was wrapped in a veil of moonlight and shadow. She had only known this man for two days and yet she had never been happier.

He shifted beside her, and for a moment she tensed, fearing he was preparing to leave. Not wanting him to slip away she tried to think of something to say, anything to keep him here, just the two of them, side by side. When he settled back against the rock, putting his hands behind his head, she breathed a sigh of relief.

“Can I ask you something?” she finally said, as the whisky dulled her senses even more.

“Anything,” he replied, turning his head towards her.

“If you had the power to change one thing, what would that be?” The moment she asked the question, she longed to take it back. How many times had her brother reprimanded her for being a dreamer?

“I am certain you wish to hear me say that I had never been stolen by the fairies. But that is not what I would wish because if I had not, the two of us would not be here right now, and you would be dead. Because of that, I feel a sense of obligation to protect you from further harm.”

Her chest tightened as she sat up. “You are not responsible for my safety or well-being.”

He sat up and turned to her. “I was born a warrior, Rosalyn. In Fairyland and here in the human realm, I was never able to turn away from that part of myself. In Fairyland, I protected the people who had wronged me with just as much ferocity as I protect my family now, and that includes you.” He took her hand and laced his fingers with hers. “I cannot deny that I feel responsible for you. Though I do not own you. You are your own person and can decide your own fate.”

He reached for her with his free hand and drew her head down to his shoulder until her hair rested against the warmth of his plaid draped across to his left arm. “I would like to help you bear your burdens for a while, Rosalyn. Together we can figure out how your life can move forward.”

“I was always taught that I had to figure things out on my own, to survive on my own, with no help from anyone,” she said, her voice tight.

“Whether you like it or not you are part of the MacLeod clan now. All of us are here to help you.”

“You all have been nothing but kind to me despite who I am.” Rosalyn stared down at their intertwined fingers and tried to ignore the comforting thrill of his touch.

He gently rested his chin against the top of her head. “Do you not see that we have a mutual enemy? It is only a matter of time before the English attack the Scots and try to change our way of life here in the Highlands. Lieutenant James Long is as much a threat to us as he is to you.”