Highland Defiance - By Sky Purington Page 0,13
it all? So she repeated, “Water.”
“Of course.” Irene handed her a cup.
She took long, deep gulps and glanced down to see she no longer wore a dress but her work clothes.
“Finish up. We need to talk.”
One look at her mother’s face told Mildred that there would be no secrets after all. How could there be when this all clearly had to do with her family’s unusual history. Mildred nodded, handed the cup to Irene and looked at her mother. “The lineage, witchcraft, this is all part of it, isn’t it?”
“Of course,” Sarah said, her eyes easily going from soft to a tempered inquisitive. “What happened to you? Where have you been?”
“Nowhere,” she said automatically. All the while she knew that her mother knew. Did Irene and Jonathan? One look at their faces told her no.
“She’s fine,” Sarah said. “Go downstairs. Give us a few minutes.”
Jonathan and Irene looked unsure but one quick nod sent them on their way. Mildred handed the cup back to her mother and worked at familiarizing herself with… herself. Her body felt normal again. As if everything she’d felt hadn’t happened. As if she hadn’t traveled through time. In fact, had she? No. Impossible. Somehow she’d dreamt it all. Everything had been a dream. It had to have been.
“Do you remember everything I taught you?”
Mildred looked at her mother. “About what?”
“About being gifted.”
With a sniff, she responded, “Yes. That I am the least gifted. There wasn’t much to teach.”
Sarah’s hand slid into hers. “That doesn’t make you the least wanted.”
“Wanted by what?” she shot without meaning to. Lord though, was she angry. Her whole life her parents had been honest about the fact that their children were witches, she of course being the least powerful. The attic that Irene and she called their bedroom had always held the most power. How was it that she—the least powerful—had not only traveled back but to a place so far from this attic?
Highly unlikely.
“You overthink,” Sarah said softly.
“No.” She shook her head. “You knew about Scotland all along, especially the MacLomains.” Mildred stood, though a bit shaky she walked to the far side of the room and back before she said, “I thought it ended with you and Da. I don’t understand.”
Her Mom clenched and unclenched her fists. “No. It’d only just begun.”
“What?” She whispered. “How is that possible?”
As she sunk down onto the bed her mother’s expression grew distant. “Because your Da wasn’t the Chieftain.”
Mildred narrowed her eyes. “No, Adlin is!”
“Yes,” her mother whispered absently. “Adlin.”
Her heart skipped a few beats. “So you know Adlin?”
“Yes, I do.”
Mildred clasped her mother’s hands. “He’s real, isn’t he? Adlin is real? I didn’t dream him up?”
Her mother shook her head and closed her eyes. “You couldn’t dream up Adlin if you tried. Just I never thought he… you.”
“Mama.” She wrapped an arm around Sarah’s shoulders and oddly enough found strength in the odd exchange. “Adlin’s okay. He’s not bad. I’m sure of it. But I don’t understand… was he an old man when you met him?”
“Oh no, dear, he was a young man. Very handsome.”
“But how can that be… he’s still a young man in 1050. Da would have been...”
Mildred trailed off. Her Da would’ve been in his early fifties when she traveled back seeing how when he’d met her mama he was from 1025 Scotland having been born in 998. Funny, the last thing she’d been worried about was finding him.
Sarah shrugged and murmured, “Perhaps the magic.”
Pretty amazing magic! But that was the least of her concerns right now. As much as she feared all of this, Mildred couldn’t help but remember the man her mother seemed so afraid of, nor could she forget how drawn she was to him. “Adlin won’t hurt me, Mama.”
“Not yet.” Her mother’s emotions seemed to flip in an instant and her steady, dry eyes looked at Mildred. “What did he say? Why did he pull you back?”
Suddenly a young, defensive daughter again, Mildred shrugged loosely. “Nothing much. He just said he was supposed to help me get somewhere.”
“Somewhere? That’s vague.”
“To my betrothed,” she said haphazardly. “That’s it.”
“Your betrothed?” Sarah stood and started pacing, deep in thought before she turned to Mildred. “He wanted to lead you to your betrothed?” The pacing continued. “That’s not how it works with Adlin. He’s there when you’ve already come in contact with your one true love. He doesn’t ever ‘lead’ a person to their love.”
The room grew orange with mid-afternoon rays of sun, catching the hem of her