Trapped Under his Highland Spell: A Scottish Medieval Historical Romance (Tales Of Highland Might Book 4)

by Ava McArthur

  Since it was so late at night, there was nobody in the library with her. She breathed softly and fought the fear that prickled in her mind. If there was ever a place for spirits to rise, then it would be in a place like this, a room filled with ancient tomes where few ever stepped.

  Moira pressed her lips together and gulped away the lump in her throat as she held the torch proudly in front of her and walked through the shelves of books. Unlike Niall, she wasn’t ready to dismiss Grizel’s worries, so she gathered Grizel’s notes and settled at a nearby table. She lit a couple of candles with the torch and focused on the notes.

  They were scrawled and difficult to read. They weren’t organized at all either. Moira pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed, knowing that making her way through these scattered notes was going to occupy her entire night.

  But at least it would serve to keep her mind off Niall. She shook her head when she thought of her husband, and then got to work.

  The notes ranged between various topics. Occasionally, Moira had to leaf through a good chunk of pages before she got back to notes on the spirits of the forest. Grizel had written old stories about them and made notes on their nature.

  The spirits used to be playful and kind. They had the forest to themselves and never knew anything of fear or death, but then the first men came. Men did as men always do, try to take more and more.

  They began to hunt and chopped down the forest to make homes and weapons. They brought with them noise and bluster, disrupting the natural harmony of the land. Spirits did not take kindly to this. Men took what they wanted without asking permission or paying respect.

  The spirits saw everything crumble around them. At first they hid themselves away, assuming that the men would pass like a storm, but the men did not leave.

  They stayed and grew and took more and more from the land without giving anything back, and then more men came. The spirits watched with worry as they saw the world they knew become irrevocably changed.

  Their playful nature was suddenly absent. A deep anger burned within them, and their nature changed because of men. They became vicious and violent. They haunted the forests, driving men away, but even the spirits could not stop the relentless march of men.

  The spirits were driven back, forced to dwell in the darkest parts of the woods. Perhaps if things had been different the men and spirits could have lived in harmony, but the time for peace has long since passed. The only thing men can do is to protect their homes and never venture too far into the woods.

  There are concoctions that can help, but otherwise all we can do is hope that the spirits take mercy on us. We must try to placate them as best we can and make up for all the suffering we have caused.

  Moira read the words intently and was startled by them. If what Grizel wrote was accurate then the whole reason this began was because of her ancestors.

  The Monroe clan had been the first ones to settle in the area and so they must have been the people Grizel talked about in the past. Was it possible that her clan was responsible for these things? She supposed that would be the case only if spirits actually did exist. But something else caught her attention as well.

  The attitudes Grizel described between the spirits and men were exactly the same as those between the Calbraiths and the Monroes. This feeling of enmity was like a song that echoed throughout the years.

  Why were people so prone to war rather than peace? It didn’t make any sense to her, and she felt a responsibility to stop it because with the Calbraith name and the Monroe blood, she was an amalgamation of the two. It was only she who could bring the two clans together.

  Moira was so focused on the words in front of her that she wasn’t paying attention to her surroundings. Her head was bowed and her eyes were focused on the page. She did not notice the quiet footsteps that drifted into the library, nor the presence that loomed over her. In the darkness, she would not have been able to see the shadows dancing against the walls even if she had looked up, so when a throat was cleared behind her she jumped out of her skin and shrieked.

  Her heart raced and she spun around, grabbing the unlit torch to use as a makeshift weapon, although as the fear gripped her, she was certain that a spirit had come for her, and she wasn’t sure how well a torch would protect her.

  Panting, she saw the man who had come into the room, and he looked just as shocked as she did about her reaction.

  “I apologize for scaring ye, my lady, I’m a healer, and I’m looking for a botanical book,” he said gently, bowing his head to try and show Moira that he was no threat. Moira had to take a few moments to compose herself.

  She took deep breaths and rested her head in her hand before telling herself that everything was going to be fine and that there was no need to be scared of spirits. Despite what she had been reading, there was still no need to leap to conclusions just yet.

  “I am sorry for my reaction. I was sae lost in these notes that I didnae pay attention. What is yer name?”

  “Bryn,” the man said. He was short of stature and had a moon-shaped face. He was bald, and his eyebrows were so blonde it appeared as though he didn’t have any hair at all.

  “Well, Bryn, I’m sure ye can find whatever ye need. Would ye like tae borrow my torch, or one of my candles?” she asked. He pressed his hands together and thanked her. Apparently, he had not brought his own torch and had instead been guided by the flickering light that emanated from the room thanks to her candles.

  He took her torch and used the candles to light it and then set about his business, holding the torch as close as possible to the shelves so that he might be able to see the books more easily.

  “Hae there been any updates?” Moira asked.

  Bryn sighed and shook his head as he pulled a book down from a shelf. It was high, and he had to stand on his tiptoes to reach it, but he managed to get it down without any trouble at all.

  “Unfortunately nae, and unless we find a cure, it’s only gaeing tae get worse. Some of the other healers hae been stricken with the illness as well, sae there are fewer tae help.”

  “Dae ye hae any idea what is causing this?” Moira asked, glancing at Grizel’s notes. “Dae ye think…dae ye think it could be spirits?”

  Bryn tilted his head and shrugged, offering a light laugh. “I wouldnae care tae speculate on that. One thing I learned a long time ago is that there’s a lot I dinnae know about the world. I just try tae treat sicknesses and make people feel better. That’s as much as I can dae.”

  “And a noble thing it is,” Moira said, nodding in respect.

  “But if there is a curse then I believe I know what haes been cursed,” Bryn went on. “As more and more people came down with the illness, I spoke tae them and asked them about what they had been daeing and eating, just tae see if there was any common pattern. As it sae happened, they were all drinking from the well just recently.”

  “The well?”

  “Aye, perhaps the spirits hae put a curse on that,” Bryn said, chuckling as he examined the shelves for any other books that might be useful.

  Moira turned back to her notes, but she was not reading them any longer; rather, her mind was focused on the well. In a matter of moments, Bryn was ready to leave and asked if she wanted her torch back.

  She took it, but said that she was going to leave with him. They blew out the candles and then left the library. Moira wished Bryn well in his endeavors and hoped that he would be able to find a way to make people feel better. Bryn thanked her and then left Moira to herself, holding the torch, her thoughts focusing on the well.

  14

  With her face set in determination, Moira left the castle and went outside to find the well that Bryn had described. The moon was high and cast a silver pallor over the world. The grounds of the castle were quiet; a stark contrast to the usual bustling atmosphere during the day.

  Even though her torch provided a bright glow and offered some heat, Moira couldn’t help but feel a chill pass through her. The forest aroun
d the castle attracted her attention. The longer she peered into its depths, the more she was certain there was something looking back at her. She shuddered and tried to shake the feelings away, although she was not entirely successful.

  She thought it was funny how the usual manner of life could hide a lot of the natural noises of the world. The night was alive with the rustling of leaves and the small squeaks and hisses of animals, trying to get all their business done before dawn came.

  The castle loomed behind her, its towers so tall, they blotted out the stars. Suddenly Moira felt very small and wondered if she could even help at all. But no, she must try. She owed it to both her families, and it was the only way to alleviate the pangs of guilt that stabbed in her stomach.

  When the scandal had happened with Roderick, she had stood by and let her friend be thrown in jail. She had been so scared of going against her uncle and so afraid of losing her brother that she hadn’t spoken up strongly enough to protest the unjust events, and she vowed that she was never going to be like that again. If it was in her power to do something then she would do it, consequences be damned.

  Her thoughts turned to Niall. Moira wondered if he had had second thoughts about their marriage, or if he had the wherewithal to feel guilty about what he had said to her. She supposed she would find out in time, and she knew that things would go much more smoothly if she was able to find the cause and bring him a way to help. It wasn’t that she wanted to prove her innocence to him because she shouldn’t have had to, but she did want to prove him wrong.

  Braving the darkness, she followed the small path to the well. It was a stout circular well made of old, thick stones. A pulley mechanism stood tall out of the well. The ropes were draped over the side, and a bucket lolled against the grass.

  She placed her hands against the well and peered in, but could see nothing other than a pit of darkness. She scowled and lowered the torch, inspecting the bucket, the ropes, and the ground around the well for anything suspicious. She must have circled the well at least ten times before she gave up.

  There was no sense of anything untoward happening, and nothing that suggested foul play. There were too many tracks near the well for anything to stand out, and as far as she could tell, the mechanism was working as intended. Besides, she wasn’t sure what kind of evidence a spirit would leave, and her enthusiasm fell.

  She had been so filled with hope when she had been struck with the idea to come to the well, but it had left her feeling empty and dejected. She wondered if she was really the right person to find the cause of this illness. Perhaps she wasn’t as important as she thought, but it left the question of what to do next lingering on her mind.

  Because of the way Niall had reacted, she wasn’t certain she felt safe here any longer. Niall’s moods could take him in strange directions, and the last thing she wanted was to feel like a stranger in her own home. But she could not return to the Monroe clan as that would force suspicion onto her no matter how much she protested. It was in these moments that she had always turned to Marcas.

  He had always watched over her and protected her from the unfairness of the world, even back to that moment when their father had fallen in battle. They had been watching the fight unfold from the safety of the castle. She had been filled with pride at the sight of her father leading the charge.

  There was even a part of her that wished she could be a warrior just like him. However, tragedy had befallen her father. She hadn’t seen it, though. As soon as Marcas realized what was happening, he had turned her face away. He had always been her shield against the world, and now she needed him more than ever.

  Fearful, she returned to the castle and penned a letter to her brother. She wrote quickly as her hands trembled with nerves, and she hoped that Niall would not be too angry with her.

  Dear Marcas,

  I hope this letter finds you well. Unfortunately, I cannot say the same is true for me. Something has happened…people have fallen ill, and the healers suspect that it is poison. Nobody knows who would want to poison the clan, but Niall has it in his head that you would be capable of such a thing.

  I fear that his suspicion would even fall on me, that he believes this whole wedding has been some scheme on our part. I do not know what to do. I have tried to be a good wife. I have tried to do everything you wanted me to do, but I need your help.

  You must send someone or do something to convince Niall that you had no part in this. He will not listen to me, and I’m afraid. I miss you, brother, and I do not know what else to do. I cannot take care of this by myself. Please help me.

  With love,

  Moira

  * * *

  Some of the words were blurred as tears fell from Moira’s eyes. Her hand trembled as she folded the letter and took it to a servant, thrusting it in his hand and telling him that he must leave immediately because it was vitally important. The servant nodded sharply and then Moira breathed a sigh of relief.

  She had seen how a clan could turn on itself so quickly and was determined to not let the same thing happen here, but there was little she could do without Marcas’s help. She thought it would all be better if Marcas arrived. Then he and Niall could talk like men and be reminded of the peaceful treaty they had signed.

  Surely the last thing they would want is to end up like their fathers and continue this senseless hostility. But if that did happen…Moira shuddered at the thought of what would happen to her if war broke out. She would likely be held as a hostage against the Monroe clan, and whatever life she had hoped for herself would never come to be. She suddenly thought herself foolish for ever expecting to be happy.

  With nothing else to do, she started up the stairs, but paused. She wasn’t sure she was ready to face Niall yet. He had said so many hurtful things and all she wanted to do was rest. She was tempted to find another room in which to spend the night before she shook the thoughts away.

  This was her home and she shouldn’t be scared of her husband, or of expressing her right to sleep in her own bed. With added courage in her footsteps, she ascended the stairs and thrust the door open, puffing out her chest, ready to defend herself should Niall say anything untoward. However, Niall was nowhere to be seen.

  She wasn’t certain whether she should be relieved or not, but she had a feeling that the longer this tension lasted, the worse it was going to get.

  Moira crawled into bed, brushing her hair before she settled down comfortably. She assumed that Niall would be by his sibling’s side.

  As she thought about Jamie and Isobel, she felt a pang of shame and wondered if she had been too hard on Niall. He was suffering, after all, and sometimes when people were in pain, they said unkind things they did not truly mean. Perhaps she should give him the benefit of the doubt. He was dealing with enough at the moment without stress from his wife ready to be added to it. So she decided to wait for him to return, and when he did, she would try to placate him and make things a little easier.

  She ended up waiting for so long that she drifted off to sleep. It was only when Niall stormed in that she was startled awake. She yawned and had lost all her bearings, but when she saw Niall, she smiled and was about to talk to him about things and to apologize for her conduct earlier.

  She wanted to explain that she only wanted to help, but then she saw the look on Niall’s face. It was twisted in fury and a dark shade of crimson. At first, she wondered why, but then she saw the letter he clenched in his hand and she groaned. She threw the covers off and moved forward, hoping to speak with him and explain everything before he jumped to conclusions.

  However, it seemed as though the leap had already been made. Before she could utter a word, he was already berating her, and Moira was stricken with an utterly hopeless feeling. It was as though even when she tried to do the right thing, it ended up being the wrong thing.

  Perhaps I am the cursed one in all of this.

  15

  “What is this?” Niall thundered. The door closed behind him and his word
s reverberated around the room. “I was actually beginning tae feel guilty about the way we spoke earlier, only tae find that my suspicions were right!

  Ye would dare send a letter tae Marcas? I thought I knew ye, Moira.” He shook his head and paced around the room like a wolf. “I really thought we had begun tae make strides, and I thought that I could trust ye. As we got tae know each other, I was able tae forget that ye were a Monroe. I cannae believe that ye would dae this!” He took the letter and tore it in half, flinging the shredded paper away.

  The two halves drifted down to the floor. Moira pursed her lips and tried to remember that he was worried about her siblings. She had to try to keep a calm head in these matters else she was liable to lose all her poise, and she might say something she regretted. But that didn’t stop his words from hurting. It didn’t stop her heart from aching.

  “What are ye even daeing with the letter?” Moira asked.

  “I saw my servant riding away and I wondered what he was daeing sae late at night. When I questioned him, he told me that he was on an urgent matter for ye, because my servants dinnae lie tae me like my wife does,” Niall said spitefully.

  “I hae nae lied tae ye!”

  “Of course ye hae nae. Sae is that why ye run off tae yer brother when I start tae get close tae the truth? It’s all a wee bit convenient, is it nae, that this should start soon after we were married? I thought that Marcas was being tae generous in our negotiations. I suppose he was willing tae give everything up because he knew he would just take it back soon after we were married.

  And that was a nice ploy, by the way, trying tae pretend that ye listened tae Grizel, trying tae suggest that spirits could actually be responsible. It was wise of ye, I cannae deny that. Marcas and ye make a good team.”