Page 4 of Nyall

Do you wish live? a strange man’s voice asked inside her head.

Hey, pal, what do you think I’ve been trying to do all day? A bunch of bubbles poured from her mouth with the chuckle she released. Sorry, I’m being rude to nitrogen-induced hallucinations.

Do you wish live? a woman’s voice that sounded a lot like Gina’s repeated.

Something made Caroline’s eyes grow hot and heavy, and the water began flickering with odd blue and green lights. Of course, I do, Mama, but it’s too late for me now.

Caroline closed her eyes, and then gasped out the last of her air as something grabbed her and hurled her up through the water. She was going too fast; decompression sickness would make the nitrogen in her tissues expand and form bubbles, which in her brain would be fatal. She fought against the thing clutching her, and then another set of hands grabbed her and pulled her out of the water.

Nothing tasted as sweet as that first lungful of air.

The two men holding her arms looked as different as night and day. The one on her right seemed towering and paved in hard muscle; he had long, dark red hair, features like a pissed-off prince, and eyes as dark and stormy as the proverbial night. The man on her left was just as gorgeous with his waist length braid of white-blond hair, crystal blue eyes and a face that had probably launched a thousand men’s fashion magazine covers. Left guy wore a seamless gray wet suit unlike anything she’d ever before seen; right guy had stolen his bare chest from a gladiator.

In front of her a wide crescent of white sand spread out beneath soaring cliffs, behind which rose huge mountains covered with dense forests. A cloudless blue sky framed everything, making it look like Puerto Rico without all the hotels and shacks, only lightning kept streaking across it. Had the clouds turned invisible? Where was she?

The men didn’t say anything as they swam with her wedged between them toward that pristine beach. A third, impossibly handsome man stood on the shore there, also dressed only in a pair of trousers. His eyes did something impossible as the black tattoos covering one of his arms began moving.

That’s the nitrogen bubbles in my brain, Caroline thought just before she finally did the sensible thing and blacked out.

Chapter Two

In the bay at the island of Caladh, Nyall MacMar quickly wiped the sea water from his eyes. Sunlight bounced off the surface of the shallows in glittering flashes, making him squint. Keeping his arm around the limp body of the woman he and his best friend Jamaran had found in the water, he wanted nothing more than to stay with them. He’d seen clear water ahead of him one moment, and then the dark-haired female simply appeared out of nowhere.

Why did these women keep coming to the island?

Because Nyall was only half-Fae, his mortal weakness sometimes still caused him to sink into dry earth of any kind, so he had to leave the female with Jamaran as soon as they made it to shore. Hoisting the dazed female into the Finfolk commander’s arms, he waded out of the waves and sprinted for the stone-covered trail that led from the shore to the cove. As he did, he passed Chieftain Shaw MacMar, second in command for the clan and his half-brother.

“Did you claim her, or kill her?” he heard Shaw ask in an odd tone.

Nyall’s temper flared, and white sparks jumped across his vision. Since being struck by lightning he had also acquired an elemental boon, but he had yet to learn to wield or control the power. Thus far it seemed only to make his eyes flash with light, and attract storms to the bay.

“Shut up,” he told the chieftain.

Jamaran said nothing to Shaw as he carried the woman from the water’s edge up to the shade of a willow. Shaw followed, grabbing a tartan he’d shed along the way and flinging it out so the commander could place the castaway upon it. As both men knelt down beside her, Nyall regarded the strange, tight-fitted gray garment she wore. To his eyes it looked much the same as those made and worn by the Finfolk, except that it covered her from neck to wrists and ankles. The fabric clung so tightly to her body it showed plainly that she had full breasts, a tiny waist, rounded hips and long legs.

As the Finfolk commander brushed her wet, dark hair back from her bold, beautiful features Nyall’s gut knotted. The white pearls piercing her ear lobes gleamed against the deep gold of her skin. Her dark coloring and womanly body paired with that face made her seem like something from his dreams.

Knowing exactly what he was thinking, his best friend met his gaze, and nodded his agreement.

“Look.” Shaw picked up her hand, moving it to a patch of sunlight, where the silver band she wore took on a familiar green sparkle. “She wears Lady Joana’s ring.”

The woman suddenly jerked upright and yanked her fingers from the chieftain’s clasp. With her other hand she balled her fist and punched Shaw hard, her knuckles cracking against his jaw, which sent him reeling. Jamaran seized the chieftain’s arm to keep him from hitting his head on some rocks. A moment later the woman got unsteadily on her feet and brandished a black-bladed dagger as she backed up several steps. Nyall could see she held the weapon like someone accustomed to using blades.

“Get him the hell away from me,” she told Jamaran, who dragged Shaw back from her. She turned her head as she looked over the shoreline, saw Nyall, and ran to him. “You, talk.” She spun around as if expecting the other men to attack her from behind. “Where am I?”

The fact that she had come to him bemused him almost as much as hearing her voice, which had the resonance of a lovely bell, and a soft accent that was decidedly not Scottish.

“An island called Caladh.” As she stared at him he looked into her sea-colored eyes and recognized the terror behind her anger. “You’re safe now.”

“Sure I am.” She tightened her grip on her blade as she glanced around again, keeping her gaze moving between the other men and him. “If you’re for real, I need you to find a phone and call nine-one-one, right now.”

Nyall knew from the laird’s wife that a phone was how people in the future spoke over long distances to each other. This female possessed an accent similar to that of Lady Valerie, the first woman who had come from the future. Her strange garment also suggested she had been brought to Caladh in the same fashion. He also suspected that if he told this woman she had traveled back in time to twelfth century Scotland she would run from him.

He glanced at the chieftain, who was rubbing his jaw, and looked as if he wished to brawl.

“’Tis no phone here, Mistress. Shaw, go fetch Lady Valerie.” Nyall regarded Jamaran, with whom he thankfully shared a connection through their thoughts. I must disarm her. Help me.

The commander nodded slightly. Distract her. Ask for her name, and what happened that brought her here.