Altered Destiny

By Lynda K. Scott

Stranded on an alternate Earth, architect and Jill-of-all-trades, Liane Gautier-MacGregor must find her way back to her homeworld before she's enslaved...or falls in love with a man who is the exact duplicate of her ex-husband.

Devyn MacGregor's alter ego as the Reiver Lord is the only way he can fight the Qui'arel and their nefarious Bride Bounty, a tax paid with human females...until he meets the oddly familiar woman who claims she's his wife. And who sets in motion the rebellion that will either free his countrymen or destroy them.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lynda K. Scott
• Release date: Aug 6, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465859358

Lynda K. Scott

In her family of Kentucky 'ridge runners', oral tales were a tradition that even the children participated in. She spent many nights with her brother, cousins and friends telling tall tales to excite the imagination. Now she creates award winning science fantasy romance filled with despair, hope, love and courage

Book preview

ALTERED DESTINY

By

Lynda K. Scott

SMASHWORDS EDITION

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PUBLISHED BY

Lynda K. Scott on Smashwords

Altered Destiny

Copyright © 2006 by Lynda K. Scott

Cover Design © 2011 by Rae Monet, Inc.

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

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Dedication

The revival of this book is totally due to Linda Wisdom, my friend and mentor, who walked me through this rebirthing process. Thank you!

I also want to thank my husband, Gene, and my daughter, The Bear, who both suffered-in-silence during all the birthing pangs of Altered Destiny in its original incarnation.

Kudos and love to you all!

Altered Destiny

Prologue

2010 AD, Virginia Coast, United States

It took a certain amount of courage to leave a safe and comfortable life, to leap into the void, and risk failure. Liane Gautier-MacGregor sighed–one sigh was all she would allow–then faced the slow, even swells of the Atlantic. Normally, she loved the solitude of the narrow beach but, tonight, it echoed with loneliness.

Dreams, lies, broken trust. She shrugged; they were all the same. Take her ex-husband. Please, she added with a snarky smile. For a long time, she’d thought Devyn was the man of her dreams. Which just goes to show, she said, shrugging.

Far out to sea, a pale line of fog rose out of the ocean depths. High above the fog, a star pulsed in the indigo sky.

Star light, star bright, Liane began, then paused, unsure what to wish for. A blast of cold air shoved her backward. Pulling her jacket together, she braced herself against the wind. What did ex-husbands and the weather have in common? Can’t count on either of them. Glancing at the star again, she muttered, It’s probably a satellite anyway.

From atop the bluff, the dull thump of her ex-husband’s car door, followed by the BMW’s throaty growl echoed off the trees and cottage walls. She turned to see the top landing of the sea stairs. Twin beams of light speared the darkness then angled away.

She was alone. In the dark. On a deserted beach.

Liane shivered. Gautiers were never afraid. At least, that’s what her father had always said. She drew in a breath of salt-laden air, then turned to carefully retrace her footsteps. She could see them clearly in the moonlight and for a moment wished she could as easily retrace her life’s footsteps. Go back to a time before her marriage, before she’d become such a huge disappointment to her parents. To herself.

A wave lapped over her left foot, filling her shoe with icy water. She jumped sideways before the next wave hit. Waves shouldn’t reach this high on the little beach. She puzzled over it for a moment. Maybe a storm was coming? But the sky was clear, filled with stars and a brilliant full moon.

In fact, her wishing star, or satellite, twinkled even more brightly. Star light, star bright. First star I see tonight.

She chuckled. Well, it was the first star she’d noticed that night at any rate. May I have, may I wish–

She paused again, and thought. What I wish tonight.

The BMW’s engine noise faded in the distance. She shivered at the sudden stillness. I wish for a new beginning.

Okay, so that was going to happen anyway now that her divorce was final. "I wish for a good new beginning."

Vague, that was too vague, she decided. Maybe-- I wish that I'm brave enough to succeed at a new beginning.

Fear of failure, fear of success...it didn't matter what you called it. The fact was, she was a coward in so many different aspects of her life. And so much would be different if she had been a tenth as brave as her mother or father. Her head lowered as grief rolled over her. Her chest tightened, constricting her breath. But, her head jerked sideways in a negating gesture, she wasn’t brave and her parents were dead because of her cowardice. Because she’d let her father drive when he wasn’t familiar with icy roads. She cast a sad, longing look at the star.

Her wishing star jinked sideways, then elongated. Was it a comet? So much for wishes. Should have wished for a telescope.

As she watched the comet-star, a buzzing, tickling sensation swept over her. Her scalp tingled, her hair lifted. She looked around uneasily as the wind died. Even the waves, so restless moments ago, hesitated, stuck in mid-curl.

Her gaze, drawn to the sky, settled on the not-star as it sped toward the moon. Liane’s throat filled with dread as, with a flash of blinding whiteness and an utter lack of sound, the moon exploded.

She gasped in terrified awe as fragments whirled silently through the sky. Get inside! screamed the primitive part of her mind, inside, inside, inside.

Obeying the silent command, she sped toward the sea stairs but the wind came at her like a battering ram. She stumbled, fell back, and caught herself as her shoes filled with cold ocean water. The tide surged, slammed into her knees.

With a supreme effort, Liane dragged herself forward then–

The sea, the beach, the moon and stars–all spun in rapid circles around her. A queer, sideways slide, a wrenching shift, threw her off-balance.

From somewhere came her ex-husband’s startled yell followed by the deep mechanical growl of his BMW.

She flailed as a kaleidoscope of color burned across her eyes and drummed through her skull. Swept up, she clawed empty air. Tiny zaps, electrically charged, sizzled over her, around her, through her. Then, as if a giant hand reached out to snatch her from the maelstrom--

Liane reeled in broad daylight, the sun beating over the waves and blinding her with its brilliance.

Chapter 1

They that rise wi’ the sun hae their wark weel begun.

260 AQ, Virginia Coast, New Alba

Dizzy and off-balance, Liane had a single moment to gape at the suddenly day-lit beach before a man-shaped wrecking-ball slammed into her, dumping her into the chilly surf. Erp!

Guh! The man sprawled on top of her. A frothing wave crashed over her, filling her nose and mouth with the briny taste of seawater. The man levered himself up and gaped at her through a pair of startling green eyes--her ex-husband’s green eyes.

Blethering hell, woman! Where did you come from? He leaped to his feet, staring at her with an equal mixture of irritation, astonishment and concern. He offered her a hand up. Are you hurt?

The last thing she wanted to do was touch him–unless she had a two-by-four in her hands–so she ignored him. She stood, brushing her wet clothes with sharp flicks of her hands. Movement from the corner of her eye had her turn in time to see a dark bay horse scaling the bluff. What the hell was a horse doing here? For that matter, she turned to her ex, what was he doing here? What are you doing here?

His green eyes narrowed. I might ask you the same, lass.

His Scottish burr startled her. So did his clothing–a red and black kilt, a blue coat, unbuttoned to reveal a snowy white shirt, wetly plastered to his chest, argyle socks over silver-buckled boots. Her gaze settled on his bare knees. Even if he was a two-timing snake, Devyn had gorgeous knees...for a man, she added grudgingly. Sneering, she said, Cute outfit. Where’d you get it? Scots R Us?

‘Tis flattered I am you approve of my clothing. His burr deepened and sent shivers licking over her skin. She'd always loved accents and the Scots accent was the sexiest of them all. When it was real. Devyn's couldn't be real. He'd been born in Chicago after all. His green gaze roved over her, assessing her denim jacket, jeans and tennies. She waited for the insult–he’d never liked her casual choice in clothes–but when he spoke, concern colored his voice. Where is your escort? Your men?

Men? I’ve only had one and, trust me, you were more than enough. She squeezed water out of her short brown hair. There was something strange about Devyn, something beyond the phony accent and the costume. The ocean wind kicked up making her shiver again.

Me? Have we met afore, lass? He groped inside his jacket. A moment later, he unfolded a pair of glasses. The frames were slightly askew so they settled crookedly on his face. The effect was boyish and rather charming. But–

When did you start wearing glasses?

His head tilted. A smile teased the corners of his gorgeous mouth. I’ve a good mind for faces, particularly on beautiful women, but I dinna seem to recollect yours.

Don’t be cute. That smile sent freshets of pleasurable heat dancing over her skin, heat she hadn't felt in years. She reminded herself he did have a good mind for faces–as long as they had blond hair, big boobs and long Barbie-doll legs. She had the boobs but not the hair or the ridiculously long legs. And she didn’t have the patience to deal with this nonsense. Answer the question. What are you doing here?

Aside from running you down? I’m on my way to Seagate, lass. May I introduce myself–Devyn MacGregor at yer service. Leg extended, he swept a courtly bow. And might I ask what you are doing here? Alone and unprotected?

She cocked her eyebrow. What’s there to be protected from? Then added, skeptically, You?

Nae, lass. I’m harmless as a wean. He smiled again.

She didn’t know what a wean was and didn’t care. Her mind felt clouded, foggy but an uneasy prickle skated up her spine and she couldn’t pinpoint what caused it. Unless it was Devyn. She took a step back.

Dinna be scairt, lass. I willna harm you.

Scairt? He meant scared, she realized, and she was, but she didn’t like letting him know it. She inhaled, deeply, through her nose, and caught the scent of spice and...and something so intrinsically male it could be bottled and sold for hundreds of dollars. She fought the sudden urge to run her hands over the rich blue of his coat, to feel the solid body underneath. No way was she going down that road again. She stuffed her hands in her wet pockets, then hastily pulled them out and sneered. Riighht. Okay, fess up. What kind of game is this?

Game? His gaze settled on her mouth. Intently. A do-you-wanna-have-fun smile curved his lips. What did you have in mind?

That smile and voice could seduce a whole bevy of women even without the Highland lilt. She knew. She’d seen it happen. And, damn it, she felt it happening to her all over again. Disgusted, she shook her head and winced as a needle of pain shot between her eyes. You are one piece of work, aren’t you? For the last time, what’re you doing here?

I’ve found a lovely, if a wee bit barmy, lass on a deserted beach. Devyn shifted to stare up at the bluff. An expression of patient suffering crossed his face. And I’ve just lost my bluidy horse.

Barmy? Bluidy? She wasn’t sure what he was talking about but it didn’t sound flattering. And the closest he’d ever got to a horse was her Ford Mustang. She needed to get this conversation back on track. I thought you left.

Left? His gaze licked over her face and her mouth again leaving a warm trail in its wake.

You took the Beemer and left– She waved her hand in a vague gesture. Had she fallen, hit her head on a rock and passed out? Was this some kind of dream or nightmare? –last night. Now you’re back. Did you forget something?

I took the Beemer? he asked slowly.

The BMW.

B-M-W? His handsome face remained blank.

She rolled her eyes. Your baby. The car of your dreams. Between last night and this morning, he’d clearly lost a couple of IQ points. What are you made up for? It’s too early for Halloween. And what’s with the phony Scottish accent?

He frowned, straightened to his full six-foot, four-inch height. I dinna have an accent.

Exasperated, she threw her hands into the air, turning her back on him. Whatever Devyn was up to, it was clear he wouldn’t tell her. No surprise there.

The flesh between her shoulders tingled as he touched her hair, a whisper touch that slid into a slight tug and she fought the urge to lean back. She’d always loved having her hair touched. But she didn’t want him, shouldn’t want him, to do the touching. Not anymore. She whirled, fists clenched.

‘Twas in your hair. His green eyes widened with innocence and he dropped a small, wet twig. Folding his arms over his broad chest, he met her glare evenly. Then, as if in afterthought, he gave her that charming smile again. It’s clear we’ve some misunderstanding–

I don’t understand why you’re doing this charade. As she spoke, she turned toward the bluff, then froze, halting in mid-tirade. Her blood drained into her toes, her ears roared. My God! It’s gone!

What’s gone, lassie?

Everything. The cottage–the sea stairs. She fought to keep the hysteria out of her voice. Gautiers didn’t have hysterics. They were strong and self-reliant. Fearless. She tried to convince herself that two out of three wasn’t bad, but her knees wobbled and her heart threatened to tear out through her throat.

Lass, there’s nae a cottage here.

I can see that, she snapped in a spurt of desperate anger. But there should be. You know it was. Don’t try to tell me you don’t know it was. Her voice rose to a pitch only small dogs would make. Swallowing, she struggled to lower it. Devyn, what's going on?

Disgusted by the quaver in her voice, she took two long steps toward the bluff. As if that small a distance would bring the cottage into view. She was such an idiot. Such a coward. And she hated him to see her this way, hated to expose her weakness in front of a man who would use it to humiliate her. Again.

* * * * *

The woman trembled, eyes wide as she stared at the bluff. Her teeth pressed against her lower lip hard enough he wouldn’t have been surprised to see blood. Devyn recognized the building hysteria. His chest tightened; he’d seen like expressions all too often and it opened a raw, bleeding hurt in his chest.

Whoever she was, whatever she was doing here on this lonely stretch of beach, he couldn’t ignore her distress. But...he had to stay in character, had to be the frivolous, incompetent Bard. He could not let her suspect he was the outlaw Reiver Lord.

Placing his fingertips on her elbow, he expected her to collapse into tears, into his arms. Most women would. This lass drew a deep breath and jerked away from the light contact. She settled a fierce, midnight-blue gaze on him. What’s going on?

A feeling, half-familiarity, half-lust, swept over him. Her hair, short and curly, gleamed with dark fire among its mahogany strands. He knew her. He’d never seen her before but, somehow, he knew her. He knew the tiny scar under her left eyebrow. He knew those full, sensuous lips, that determined set to her jaw. Aye, he knew her. He just didn’t know how he knew her. I dinna ken, lass. Whyn’t tell me what you ken is going on?

Planting her small fists on her hips, she surveyed the beach again. Her jacket gaped to reveal a striking red shirt that served her fair complexion well. She said, I don’t know.

Her voice was pure silk even edged with the frustration and anger she so clearly felt. He wanted suddenly to hear it while she was in the throes of passion, to hear it breathe words of desire into his ear. To stop that train of thought, he inhaled sharply. That was a mistake. Her scent, jasmine mixed with morning rain, teased his senses. The heat of her body touched his, made him want to gather her into his arms, and it stoked an uncomfortable heat in his roger. He took a step backward, away from the intoxicating smell, the drugging heat of her and fought wildly for his bard persona. Well then. Shall I take ya hame?

"Hame?"

You ken. Where you and your family live?

She wasn't a fabled Amazon but there was strength in her body that reminded him of the warrior-queen, Boudicea, who had fought and lost to the Romans so many centuries ago. She leveled a frown at him. You’re trying to be funny, aren’t you?

You must admit, ‘tis unusual to find a woman alone in the midst of nae where. He spent a moment adjusting his jacket and shirtsleeves. There was only one explanation for why she was here and alone. Casually, he asked, Have you, by chance, run away from the Bounty?

Her frown grew. The Bounty?

Aye. Helpfully, he added, The Bride Bounty?

What are you talking about? A ship? She shook her head, clearly puzzled, and then rubbed her temples. Oh, never mind, she murmured. Her head came up, the strong jaw firmed. I must have wandered farther down the beach than I realized last night. That’s all. One bit of rocky sand looks like another.

In a flash, she was off, striding northward. Devyn spent a moment admiring the sweet shape of her arse in those scandalous trousers before he hastened to catch up with her. Lass? Lass, a moment please.

No. She stopped abruptly. Devyn pulled up short to keep from running over her again. No, this is the right spot. It was up there. The sea stairs were right by that boulder.

She seemed to be talking to herself, not him which was just as well since he had no idea what she was talking about. One thing he knew, there was not and never had been a cottage here. Lass, surely you’re mistaken–

Without a word, she launched herself at the bluff. Devyn knew this spot was unscalable–he’d been here often as a child and tried it himself. The strange lass was going to kill herself or, at the very least, break a bone. He positioned himself beneath her as she made it a short distance up. The inevitable happened. She lost her grip. As she slid down the rough, rocky slope, he caught her. She sobbed once, a wretched twist of sound that called to his own buried grief. A tear tracked down her cheek as he settled her feet on the ground. His throat constricted as he remembered all those he had lost over the years and his hands shook as he examined her for injury. Are ya hurt, lass?

Without waiting for an answer, he pulled her close, folding her into his arms like a treasure he'd always coveted. She fit him, neither too tall, nor too small, with her head nestled under his chin. Her scent filled his lungs again, bringing to mind sweet summer mornings filled with promise, with joyful laughter. The sense of familiarity struck anew. His arms tightened, held her protectively. Possessively.

That thought frightened him but he couldn’t force himself to release her. In neither of his roles as the Bard or the Reiver Lord could he possibly claim a woman as his own. The Reiver was an outlaw, a mythic figure used to set free the lassies taken as Bride Bounty. The Bard was a spy hiding behind a false façade of joviality and incompetence. Worse, the Bard was Cuini’s whore and that fact alone made him...unclean. Not fit for human women.

The lass opened her fisted hands, pressed them flat to his chest. The heat from them spread, vibrated over him in shimmering notes. Unbidden, his roger stirred and he was grateful for the solid bulk of his sporran. Trying to ignore the fact his body temperature was rising by tens, he stroked the curve of her spine. Ye’re fine. Ye’re safe, lass. Dinna weep.

She pushed away from him, swiping a dirty hand across her damp cheek. My cottage should be right up there. That or I’ve lost my mind.

Nae. You’re just a wee bit upset, a wee bit confused. So was he. His reaction to the woman was beyond anything he’d ever experienced. His gaze traveled from her bonnie blue eyes to her finely shaped nose to her pale rose lips. He wanted to kiss those lips, to feel their silken texture, to taste her. A gull swooped amid the offshore thermals. Its lonely cry pealed over the sea and echoed in Devyn’s heart. He took a reluctant step away from the lass and surveyed the bluff, the rocky beach. What was she doing here, a woman alone? Will you tell me your name, lassie?

The look she gave him spoke volumes as to her opinion of his intelligence. Did someone hit you on the head?

He refrained, barely, from volleying that question back at her. Patiently, he asked, Were you attacked, lass? Do you ken how you came to be here?

With a scathing look, she turned away in disgust. "Of course, I ken how I came to be here. I walked."

Aye, and before that? Where were you then? Where was her family? Where were her kinsmen who should be protecting her from the Qui’arel, from the blethering dragons? From men like him whose rogers rose in tribute to her beauty?

Right. Up. There. She stabbed a finger at the bluff. In the cottage that’s no longer there.

He ground his teeth together. This was getting him nowhere. If they set out soon, he’d have enough time to get her to safety and still keep his appointment with Cuini, though Cuini was the last person he wanted to see. Fine, then. Humor me and tell me your name.

Her control visibly snapped. Liane, Liane, Liane! Why aren’t I surprised you can’t remember it?

Easy, lass, easy. He held his hands up in a placating gesture. Were you with someone?

She narrowed her eyes, folded her arms and said, You.

* * * * *

I was with you, Liane repeated as her anger drained away. The wind freshened, stirring her hair and setting a chill trickling down her spine. She missed the heat of Devyn’s arms, his body and that confused her already addled mind. She shouldn’t want him to hold her. Certainly, she shouldn’t want him to hold her so protectively when he’d never done it before. When he’d made it clear many times over that, as a woman, she lacked every desirable virtue. She wasn’t a domestic queen. She wasn’t a sex goddess. All she had was a good family name that would benefit his career. That’s all he’d ever wanted from her and when he no longer needed it, he'd no longer needed her.

She glanced up at Devyn in time to watch him adjust his glasses again. He was definitely odd. And definitely up to something. Rubbing the dull throb centered above her eyes, she wished she knew what it was. She wished she knew what had happened. Everything was a blur, everything from the moment she'd noticed the odd... star. Her knees jellied, wobbling like unsupported building struts. She locked them tight.

I’ve never met you afore, Annie.

Liane, she corrected, then gave up the struggle and sank onto the sand.

She’d lost ten or more hours to...what? Her cottage and everything she owned had vanished. And somehow, her ex-husband, decked out like a Scotsman, had just happened along, claiming he didn’t know her and that her cottage had never existed. She shook her head, winced at the ache.

It didn’t add up.

We need to go. Devyn squatted in front of her, broad shoulders filling her field of vision. He pushed his glasses up yet again to sit square on his face. The right side slowly angled downward as he stared at her with vivid green eyes. It isna safe to linger here.

Why? You afraid I’ll figure out what’s going on? Her gaze settled on his knees. Very handsome, sexy knees. A silent growl of self-disgust rolled through her. She needed logic, reason, to figure out what had happened--not this ridiculous lust.

Nae, I’d like that just fine. But I’d no' wish to end up as dragon fodder while you do it. He stood suddenly and scanned the beach. Can you no’ think while we go on our way?

I can’t think if you’re going to stand there and yammer at me about ridiculous things. Focus, she ordered, but not on his legs. Shielding her eyes from the sun, she peered up at him. Why did you come back?

I dinna come back. I was not with you last night. Devyn half-turned, then pivoted back, leaving a restless toe mark in the sand. He raked his hand through his hair and, making an obvious effort to keep his voice even, said, Lass, I canna leave you here. ‘Tis too dangerous. We need to find you a place to stay until we sort out this puzzle. Are you well enough to travel?

The sun cast a red-gold nimbus around his auburn hair giving him the look of a warrior-angel. She didn’t want to admire his strong jaw, the masculine blade of his classically shaped nose, and the slash of high cheekbones. Or the sensuous line of his mouth. She didn't want to but she did. I’m just peachy.

Dropping her gaze to look out to sea, she realized she could see a few inches up his kilt. Deep inside, a low hum vibrated through her. Lust. The lying, sneaking, son-of-a-bitch always could inspire lust in any woman he met. After the Bambi incident, she’d thought she was immune. She dropped her head, studied her hands, the sand, a beetle crawling past her foot. And I’m not going anywhere until I figure this out.

What had happened last night?

No? I could carry ya, he threatened.

She aimed a do-it-and-die look at him. You could try.

Annie–

My name is Liane. She spaced the words evenly and far more calmly than she felt. If you’ve got an appointment, feel free to toddle off.

After he’d left last night, she’d gone to the beach. She remembered that clearly. Then...

The moon!

Liane scrambled to her feet, searching the sky frantically but the moon was nowhere in sight.

Last night– she fumbled. Did something happen to the moon?

The moon? he echoed, his elegant brows drawing together.

She turned slightly, thoughts whirling. She’d seen the odd star at twilight, a beacon bright over the ocean. Then, she