Claire Delacroix by The Last Highlander Read Free Book Online Page A

“This is not the keep of Edinburgh! It cannot be!”
    It certainly was not the Edinburgh Alasdair had seen just the night before. The town spilled below the mount where the keep was built stretched in every direction, spreading from the foot of the mount and belching mire into the air. The keep itself was larger and more ornate, rife with towers and walls where none had been before.
    This place was irreconcilable with Edinburgh!
    But then Alasdair saw the similarities in the sweep of the land itself. The mound of Arthur’s Seat rose behind the tower of the fortress before him, the smooth water of the Firth of Forth sparkled in the distance. He examined the hills and could not deny the similarity with those he knew surrounded the city.
    The hillock where they had camped still rose as a curve against the land, although now it was piled with buildings of some manner or another. Alasdair frowned. If he ignored the buildings, ’twas not that different from the land he had so recently looked upon.
    This could truly be the site of Edinburgh, but with a dark and twisted town of Morgaine’s imagination imposed upon the land he recognized. Too late, Alasdair recalled that in his gran’s tales of the land of Faerie all was familiar but contorted from the world of mortals.
    And that the worlds overlaid each other, intersecting only at certain points where portals were guarded vigilantly. He spun, seeking the tower he had climbed and could not distinguish it from its companions.
    Evidently that portal had already been veiled.
    Any lingering doubt Alasdair might have still had, any conviction that good sense could explain away all he had seen this day, died a quick death.
    He was truly trapped in the domain of Morgaine le Fee.
    And he did not know quite how to proceed.
    The male advisor who Alasdair had already thought showed good sense, now exhibited a measure more. “You look like you could use a drink,” he suggested with a friendly smile. “How about joining us for lunch?”
    Morgaine inhaled sharply, but Alasdair had to risk her annoyance for the moment.
    After all, if a man did not deserve a healthy measure of whisky when he has been whisked unexpectedly to the land of Faerie, then when could events merit a drink?
    “Aye, a wee dram would be welcome just now!” he agreed with enthusiasm.
    “It was your whisky that landed you square in the trouble you’re in,” Morgaine said disapprovingly.
    She was right, of course, for if Alasdair had not been celebrating the night before, he would never have taken the lads’ dare. All the same, he felt in need of something fortifying in this moment.
    “Aye, that would be true enough, and I have the bump to show for it,” he conceded, giving her a sample of his most winning smile. It had earned the favor of a reluctant lass on more than one occasion, and Alasdair reasoned that it could not hurt to try his charm on the enchantress, too. “Just a wee sip to set matters straight, my lady Morgaine, then you can have your way with me.”
    Her eyes flashed dangerously and Alasdair knew he had overstepped a mark. Before he could make matters right, she stepped away and tossed her hair like a flighty filly.
    “Go on and have your whisky!” she snapped. “What does it matter to me if you waste your life?”
    And with that, the sorceress turned and stalked away.
    Alasdair started in pursuit, but the woman advisor laid a hand upon his arm. “It’s all right,” she purred with a reassuring smile. “Morgan is a bit sensitive about alcohol.”
    The man appeared on Alasdair’s other side. “But that’s no reason not to have a ‘wee dram’ ourselves, is it?” He smiled cheerfully and Alasdair saw that he was being corralled by this pair. “Maybe a wee bit o’ haggis to keep it company?”
    The familiar words echoed strangely in the man’s flat tones, as though they were not pronounced quite right. Alasdair had seen enough of battle to understand that these two were deliberately