Blue Bells of Scotland: Book One of the Blue Bells Trilogy Read Free Page A

Insects hummed. Niall rested his hands on Allene's shoulders, stifling his aches. He needed more ale.
    "When the celebration ended," Rabbie said, "the dwarf king gave them gifts, including a bloodhound. 'Ye're no longer safe in your world,' the dwarf said. 'Carry the bloodhound on your saddle. Doona get off your horses until he gets down. Then will ye be safe.' The king and his warriors rode out, full of fine food and ale. Imagine their surprise when they reached their world and dinna see the forest."
    Rabbie leaned down, opening his eyes wide. The children stretched forward, waiting.
    "There were fields, and villages," Rabbie whispered. "King Herla rode on, seeing naught he knew. At last, they found an old man—even older than me!" Rabbie tugged at his long, white beard. The children giggled. "They asked him what had become of the forests and the Kingdom of Herla. The old man stroked his beard." Rabbie matched action to words. "And at last remembered an old legend, about a king who had disappeared. But that, the man said...." Rabbi stopped, looking from face to eager face, making them wait. "That was three hoondred years ago!"
    The children's eyes grew round. "Could tha' really happen, Grandfaither Rabbie?" piped a little girl with straw-colored braids.
    "Och, who's to say?" said the old man. "The fairy folk, they like to play tricks on us poor humans. There's many a story of fairies takin' a man to fairyland, an hoondreds o' years passin' ere he leaves."
    "Fairies!" scoffed Niall.
    "Do ye be careful, Niall Campbell," Allene murmured. "Ye doona want to be temptin' them."
    He winked at her. "No, I doona want to be tempting the fairies."
    "Niall!" roared the Laird. Niall jumped. A shock of pain crashed through his head. "Get your harp, laddie, and play for us!"
    Niall nodded obediently, still smiling at Allene's concern. Taking his harp from a peg on the stone wall, he scuffled through the rushes and settled himself gingerly on Rabbie's stool. Men chuckled; women blushed. He grinned, rubbing his posterior in jest at his own foolhardiness, and began one of their favorites, a ballad of love lost. Iohn drifted to his side, harmonizing. Some people watched. Others returned to their conversations; the hum of talk swelled gently.
    He liked it this way, playing in the background. A dog sniffed his knee and wandered away. A few children remained in the straw, watching. Some played games with their hands, bits of string, or marbles. The youngest slept in their mothers' arms. Sitting beside her dozing father, Allene smiled at him. His world was complete.

    Inverness, Scotland, Present

    The hall backstage filled with laughing musicians in concert black, drunk on a fine performance, and well-wishers from the audience. They packed the narrow passage between white-washed concrete walls, bumping tables and brushing tall wheeled crates of ballet costumes. Most strained toward Shawn. He lifted a hand to friends over the press, signed programs, called a greeting, laughed, chatted, and shook hands with ardent admirers he'd never met before.
    "Where to, Shawn?" Dana called. She hugged her French horn close to her body in the crowd. Her ginger red hair shot in short spikes in all directions from her head. Several others slipped through the press of people, squeezing through the green room door.
    "Shawn! Got a party going?" shouted Rob, the principal trumpet player.
    "Ask Amy," Shawn called back. Amy, his girlfriend of two and a half years, would deal with it. He turned his attention back to a short, elderly man with traditional kilt and a bristling mustache. Smiles, more handshakes. Shawn thanked him, turned to an elderly woman spangled with diamonds, congratulated her on her son's own musical success, and edged toward the green room.
    He signed a boy's program, patted his shoulder, and encouraged him in his up-coming audition; got two steps closer and greeted a young woman. His eyes lit up. He clasped her hand in both of his, stopping his