Marjory scarce heard her.
More shivers were racing up her spine. And this time they were making her scalp prickle. Her palms were also dampening and her pulse raced.
Something was afoot.
And it wasn’t the whirling mist.
As unobtrusively as possible, she lifted a hand to her ambers again. Oddly, the necklace wasn’t humming. The stones were cold and completely still. So she swung around, narrowing her eyes to peer into the birches at the last spot she’d sighted Grim.
He still wasn’t there.
“We’ve lost Grim.” She turned back to Isobel. “He’s not behind us anymore.”
“He wouldn’t just disappear.”
“That’s what worries me.”
“Perhaps he stepped aside to…” Isobel’s blush revealed her thought.
Marjory shook her head. “Wherever he went, he’s not near the path. I don’t like it.”
“The noise I heard earlier.” Isobel stepped closer. “Do you think-”
“I don’t know what I think.” Marjory took a deep breath, then another. The shadows were darker now. And the pearly luminescence of the mist seemed alive, shimmering around them. An eerie quiet had descended so that the only sound was the wind and the rushing of the nearby burn.
Until a crunch on stone revealed the approach of determined footsteps.
It was a man’s tread.
And it wasn’t Grim’s.
Marjory knew who was coming. And the knowledge hit her hard enough to punch the air from her lungs. Turning, she saw Alasdair emerged from the mist. This time there was no doubt it was him. His stride strong and purposeful, he strode toward her as if he owned the birchwood. As if he possessed her as well. His gaze swept from the top of her head to her toes and then back up again as he approached, the look in his eyes making shivers race all through her. Her breath came short and fast, her entire body heating. And this time her discomfort, the chills flashing along her skin, had nothing to do with the uncanny wood.
It was him.
Alasdair.
She could only stare at him. Words wouldn’t come no matter how hard she tried to think of something to say.
From the corner of her eye, she caught Isobel smiling at him.
“Alasdair,” her friend gushed. “What brings you to Nought territory?”
Alasdair gave Isobel a slow smile that, for all its politeness, set Marjory’s nerves jangling. “I’m here to-”
“He’s stalking about where he has no business.” Grim stepped out of the trees to stand beside Alasdair. He clutched his war ax in his hand and his expression was dark, doing his name justice. “He brought a score of men with him, trespassers all.”
“That depends on one’s view. I wouldn’t call them thus.” Alasdair’s gaze flickered from Grim to the trees where his men appeared on their horses. “Nor did I come here to dent my sword on your thick skull.”
He reached out with lightning speed then, snatching the ax from Grim’s hand and spinning it several times before thrusting it back to him, haft first. “Think hard before you pick a fight with a man who comes in peace.”
To Marjory’s irritation, Grim only grunted and rammed the ax into its strapping.
“I know why you’re here, Grim.” Marjory lifted her chin when he looked ready to argue. “But you” – she fixed her iciest gaze on Alasdair – “have no reason to be here.”
“Ah, but I do.” He came closer. “If thon guardsman of yours” – he flashed a look at Grim – “hadn’t interrupted, I’d have told you I came to see a lady.”
“That’s a pity because I have no wish to see you.” Marjory held his gaze. “You aren’t welcome here.”
“Indeed?” His eyes warmed with amusement. “Who said I came to visit you?”
Marjory backed out of his reach, too stunned to answer.
She did arch a brow.
“Have a care, Norn. With such ice in your eyes, a man could think you care for him.” A slow smile spread across Alasdair’s face. “As is…” His tone was almost teasing. “You aren’t the only lady hereabouts, or are you?”
Marjory hoped her gaze would freeze him. “If you’ve come to see my good-sister, Kendrew will show less restraint with his ax than Grim.”
“Lady Isobel isn’t the reason for my journey.” He turned aside then, taking Isobel’s hand and dropping a kiss on her knuckles. “All the same, it’s always a pleasure to see her. Lady Isobel’s brother, James, and I are good friends. A man needs trustworthy allies.”
Marjory bristled at the unspoken dig to her brother. “Such alliances wouldn’t be needed if clan boundaries were respected.”
Alasdair’s smile faded. “Lady, as chief of my people, it is aye my duty to see invaders kept out of this glen.”
“Yet you are trespassing now.”
“The Glen of Many Legends belongs to us all. Or have you forgotten that the King deemed it so?”
“I’ve forgotten nothing.” Marjory tried to ignore the heat surging through her.
He’d come so near that her heart almost stopped beating. She should turn and walk away. He deserved no better. Instead, he had the daring to step even closer. His gaze locked on hers, smoldering in a way that made it impossible for her to glance aside.
She could see the pulse at his throat, a muscle twitching faintly in his jaw. The golden flecks in his eyes shone, reminding her how easily she could drown in his gaze. His voice, so deep and deceptively soft, slid over her like sun-warmed silk, battering her defenses, completely unnerving her.
It’d be so easy to recall his kisses, his mouth slanting over hers, ravishing her…
Fortunately, she remembered his hurtful words.
Any half-fetching wench would’ve done. I was away nigh a year, without a woman….
Marjory stood straighter, squaring her shoulders.
Alasdair’s quip, spoken so easily, helped her regain her composure.
She gave him a hard look. “Whatever brought you here, it’d serve you better to leave.”
His face darkened. He stepped closer, reached to grip her chin. “Things aren’t always as they appear, my lady.” He leaned in, lowering his voice so only she could hear. “If you look into your heart, you will know that is so.”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”
“I say you do.” His eyes took on a dangerous gleam and for a moment she thought he’d kiss her. Instead, he stroked his thumb over her lips. “Remember my words, sweet, for I will not remind you again.”
“I don’t need anything from you. Not reminders. Not kisses. Not even lost baubles.” She glanced at her sapphire ring, then flashed a look at Isobel who’d opened her eyes very wide, sending her silent warnings.
Marjory ignored them.
“Nothing at all,” she finished, breaking free of Alasdair’s grasp.
His face was stony. “So be it.”
“Indeed.” Marjory flicked at her sleeve.
“I’ll be on my way.” He nodded to Isobel and Grim. Then he turned back to her, bowing slightly. “My men and I would’ve escorted you back to Castle Nought, but” – he looked again at Grim – “you’re in good hands with Grim.”
Grim mumbled something unintelligible.
Isobel appeared pained. “You are always welcome-”
“To ride Nought’s boundaries,” Marjory allowed. “This birchwood lies at Nought’s heart. As such, it is land you’ve no reason to tread.”
A muscle twitched in Alasdair’s jaw. “Dinnae push me too far, lass.”
“I would say you drew your own line in the sand.” The finality of her tone made Marjory’s stomach knot.
But her heart was beating so rapidly she feared she’d die any moment. If, she worried, it was possible to perish from a man’s mere proximity.
If so, Alasdair would be the end of her. She could think of nothing except how disastrous it was to desire him so much, to love and want him as she did. How ghastly it was that, for the remainder of her life, sh
e’d have to content herself with one toe-curling, bone-melting encounter with him.
Kisses and caresses he would’ve given any ready female, by his own damning admission.
She had every reason to be wroth.
And she’d no choice but to hasten him on his way.
To speak to him coolly, ensuring he understood she didn’t wish his attentions. Even if he’d made it plain he’d come to Nought territory to see someone other than her. Her chest tightened on the thought.
She closed her eyes, half certain death was imminent.
Then she heard horses moving through the wood and realized Alasdair and his men were leaving. She opened her eyes at once, hoping to glare at him one more time before he was gone.
But he already was.
The mist billowed around him and his men, hiding them from view. Even their horses’ hoof beats were fast fading into the distance.
She should be glad.
She felt bereft.
Isobel appeared at her side, a reproachful look on her face. “That could’ve been your last chance to speak with him. He may never come back now. You should’ve found out what he was doing here.”
“He told us.” Marjory’s mind spun. She couldn’t think straight. “It involved a woman, so I’m sure I don’t want to know.”
“Yes, you do.” Isobel signaled to Grim who came grudgingly closer. “Tell Norn what you told me while she was speaking with Alasdair.”
The big man pulled his beard braids, looking uncomfortable. He said nothing.
“If you don’t tell her, I shall.” Isobel gave him her most persuasive smile. “What did he say he was doing here?”
Grim furrowed his brow. “Carting fish o’er the hills. Herring for Hella. From his loch, caught fresh, was the excuse he gave.”
Marjory blinked. “Are you sure?”
“So he said.” Grim kicked a pebble on the path. “I’d have whetted my ax blade on his bones otherwise.”
Marjory’s heart started pounding again. “Did you see the herring?”
“No need.” Grim’s nose wrinkled. “One of his horses had a cart with barrels. The smell could only be brine.”
“Why would he take herring to Hella?” Marjory glanced at Isobel, but she looked equally puzzled.
Grim shrugged. “I wouldn’t know, my lady. He saw you and strode off before I could ask. He and his men were riding south, so he must’ve been to Skali and was already heading back to Blackshore when I challenged him.”
“I see.” Marjory glanced at the wood where Alasdair had disappeared.
Taking herring to Hella.
She’d been so unsettled to see him that she’d forgotten the widow.
The moment he’d mentioned a lady, she’d felt the earth tilt beneath her feet. The most unpleasant wave of dizziness had swept her. Jealousy – it could’ve been nothing else – had overwhelmed her, chasing reason.
Now he was gone.
And that was surely best because whatever had taken him to Hella couldn’t undo what happened between them in the old guard room.
She was better off never seeing him again.
What a shame that truth didn’t make it any more bearable.
Chapter 12
“Are you sure that’s Skali?” Isobel’s brow furrowed as she peered through the trees. The wood was darker now, almost ominous. A deep, high-banked burn ran beside the path, its rushing water loud in the stillness. “I don’t remember a burn near Hella’s cottage.”
“It’s nearly gloaming.” Marjory knew that said everything. “This wood changes after dark.”
Isobel tsked. “Burns can’t alter their courses.”
“This is Nought. And we’re in its heart.” Marjory glanced about, studying the wood’s gloom and shadows. “Anything can happen here.”
“Something almost did. Or would have if you’d let it.” Isobel made it sound so simple. “Didn’t you see Alasdair’s face when he walked up to you? His eyes blazed and the passion rolled off him, almost scorching the air. I wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d seized you to him, ravishing you whole.”
Marjory flicked at her sleeve. “You saw annoyance, not passion.” She spoke sharply, regretting the words as soon as they left her tongue. She was especially sorry when sympathy flickered across Isobel’s face.
Pity was the last thing she wanted.
She also had other concerns than a roguish chieftain who only needed to look at her sideways to set her pulse to leaping. When he touched her, she felt dazed and giddy, excited. His kisses…
Marjory frowned, annoyed that he held such power over her.
She should revile him.
She should-
She froze, raising a hand to warn Isobel as a magnificent white stag stepped onto the path before them. Huge and with the dignity of great age, he stood perfectly still, watching them with his peaty-brown eyes, his gaze unblinking. Mist swirled and sparkled around him, the strange luminosity leaving no doubt that he was no ordinary creature.
“Laoigh Feigh Ban. The white stag.” Isobel gripped Marjory’s arm, her voice low and reverent. “He’s enchanted, the pet of Grizel and Gorm, my clan’s Makers of Dreams. His name is Rannoch.”
“I know.” Marjory spoke as softly as Isobel. Her heart thundered, blood roaring in her ears. This was the third time she’d seen the fabled stag in recent days and the first time he’d come so close. “Everyone in the Glen of Many Legends knows of Rannoch.”
Isobel edged closer. “He rarely leaves Grizel and Gorm’s high moors. He’ll have a reason-
“Dear gods!” Isobel tightened her fingers on Marjory’s arm. The stag’s eyes were changing color, turning from deep brown to rich, glowing gold. “Do you see-”
“I’ve seen him do this several times of late, never so close.” Marjory couldn’t look away from the stag’s steady golden stare. Her skin tingled, the fine hairs on her nape lifting. “Until now, I thought I’d imagined him, especially the changing of his eyes.”
“I wonder-” Isobel broke off as the whirling mist brightened and closed in on Rannoch, spinning ever faster around him and then vanishing, taking the enchanted stag back whence he’d come.
The path before them stood empty.
Rannoch was gone.
Marjory could hardly breathe. She turned to face her friend, hoping Isobel’s thoughts weren’t her own. “Gorm’s prophecy, do you remember it?” She saw in Isobel’s eyes that she did. “Your brother James went to the Makers of Dreams just before the trial by combat, hoping they would tell him the outcome of the battle. Gorm gave him a prophecy instead, telling him that-”
“‘Peace will be had when innocents pay the price of blood and gold covers the glen,’” Isobel finished for her, proving that she, too, knew the ancient’s words by heart. “I haven’t forgotten. I doubt anyone has. Though” – she gave Marjory a smile of encouragement – “many believe the prophecy was fulfilled after the battle.
“Innocents did die that day. And” – she glanced to where the stag had vanished – “the trial by combat took place in autumn, gold covering the glen.”
“I believed that, too. I no longer do.” Marjory rubbed the back of her neck. Her pulse still raced. “Not since I’ve been seeing Rannoch in the wood. I think the changing of his eye color is a warning. That perhaps the gold in Gorm’s prophecy wasn’t the autumn coloring of the glen, but that he meant” – she could hardly voice her suspicion – “the Vikings who will swarm the glen to seize me if my dream comes to pass.”
Isobel blinked. “Vikings?”
Marjory nodded. “Norsemen are known for their golden hair. Look at me…” She patted her own hair, well aware of its sun-like brightness. “The dream was so real, Isobel.” She lowered her hand, hoped her friend wouldn’t notice she was trembling. “Then Rannoch’s strange appearances, how he’s fixed me with his odd golden stare.
“Now you know why I must speak with Hella.” She hoped her voice sounded firmer than it did to her. “Come, it’s growing late
,” she declared before Isobel could question her further.
Hitching her skirts, she started down the path. Her braid had come undone, the wind tangling her hair. She was sure she looked a fright and didn’t much care. All that mattered was reaching Hella’s cottage. A flash of crimson through the trees and a smudge of blue peat smoke against the sky revealed that Skali was close.
The cottage’s red-painted door was unmistakable.
“Not a word to Hella about Rannoch or Alasdair.” Marjory brushed back what was left of her braid, irritated that she’d lost its ribbon. “I don’t want anything distracting her from my questions about her homeland.”
Isobel glanced at her. “Rannoch isn’t a problem. But if I don’t mention Alasdair, Grim will.”
“I think not.” Marjory felt a twinge of guilt. “He’ll be away in the wood for longer than we’ll need to speak with Hella.”
“Oh?” Isobel arched a brow. “What did you do?”
“Nothing. I didn’t have to.” Marjory glanced at her. “Grim loves animals. All creatures great and small, even mythical ones that might not even be there.”
“You think he’ll see Rannoch?”
“I doubt it.” Marjory shivered. “Laoigh Feigh Ban’s message is for me, I’m certain.”
“Then… ahhh.” Comprehension lit Isobel’s eyes. “That’s why you told Grim you thought you saw an an cu glas drinking at the burn.”
Marjory flicked a twig off her sleeve. “When he reaches the burn and the fairy dog isn’t there, he’ll search for the creature. If I know Grim, he’ll keep looking for a while.”
“He did believe you.” Isobel glanced to where the big man had slipped into the birches.
“No harm done.” Marjory turned back to the path to Skali’s door. “This evening, he’ll weave a fine tale of almost tracking down a fairy dog. The men in the hall will hang on his every word, applauding his daring in chasing after such a dangerous beast.
“Grim will be a hero.” Marjory wouldn’t have sent him on such a goose chase otherwise.
She loved Grim dearly.
But she didn’t need his hulking presence at Skali.
“Come, I believe Hella is home.” Marjory was certain, for a glimmer of candlelight shone through the cottage’s two small windows.
Seduction of a Highland Warrior (Highland Warriors Book 4) Page 20
