The Highland Curse (Scottish Strife Series Book 2)

by Dana D'Angelo

  “Sae what are your voices telling ye now?” he said, letting out an exasperated sigh.

  Adrina shook her head, and bent down to touch the earth. “The voices are silent, and I have nay impressions in my mind’s eye at the moment.”

  He ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. With the sudden storm, and the extraordinary occurrences that happened along the way, he was starting to question his staunch disdain for anything that couldn’t be justified through simple logic.

  Ye are a fool, a voice inside berated him. Duncan compressed his lips into a grim line. Fool or not, he couldn’t come up with any other explanation for the strange incidents. As well, he couldn’t determine whether his instincts guided his thoughts, or whether Adrina’s irrationality rubbed off onto him. Perhaps he should just deliver her to the castle gates. Only then could he ascertain what was valid and what was make-believe.

  “We cannae wander around in the forest until nightfall,” he said finally. “Soon it will be dark. We either have tae enter through the gates, or find some other way tae get in.”

  “I’ll find the hidden entrance,” she said, lifting her chin with stubborn defiance. “I just need time tae think.” She stomped over to a nearby rock and sat down.

  Duncan was about to retort when a noise, like the soft rustling of silk, came from the rowan tree above them. When he looked up, he saw the unmistakable black iridescent plumage of a raven. It was perched on the branch, its beady brown eyes peering down at them. Adrina was too busy sulking, and she didn’t appear to notice the bird’s sudden appearance. But was it eavesdropping on their conversation?

  Under normal circumstances, Duncan would have dismissed the creature, but the last time they saw a raven, a severe storm had pummeled them. Was the bird simply a bad omen, or was it something else? And if Adrina’s story was legitimate, and Dunnvie truly was enchanted, then did he really want to turn her over to Fingal? But this was her home, his inner voice reasoned. There was no reason for anyone to harm the sweet lass.

  The analytical part of him knew better to leave the matter alone. His role was to seek intelligence about Tavon MacGill, not investigate the man’s principal advisor. But it was this new illogical part of him that made him pause. Every time Adrina spoke about the cleric, she seemed visibly shaken. With her fear evident, could Duncan turn his back on her, and allow her to fend for herself? Somehow he didn’t think so. Despite all reason, he had come to care for her. The last thing he wanted was for Fingal to harm her.

  He swept his eyes all around them, taking in every single detail of their surroundings. While most of the undergrowth had died off, he saw a tiny break in the ground cover. This place wasn’t as secluded as he first thought. Moving to the partially bald area, he bent down to thread his fingers through the vegetation, and discovered a faint trail. Though not used recently, he was certain that this path was made by a man. His eyes followed the branches along the side, and he observed old cuts that were now healed and knotted. At one time this path was well frequented.

  He stood up and brushed his hands together to rid himself of the dirt. “Follow me,” he said.

  Since she had no other suggestions, she followed him without argument.

  The flutter of wings came again, and he pulled her quickly behind him. If his hunch was correct, then they would stumble upon a possible shelter at the end of the old trail. A few minutes later, an aged dilapidated shack came into view. The thatched roof of the building had caved in long ago, and the moss and numerous saplings pierced through its broken center.

  Adrina hesitated and stared at the ramshackle cottage, her mouth hanging open.

  “Och, I had forgotten about this place,” she said. “The auld woodcutter used tae store the tree logs in the cottage until he had help carrying them inside the castle. However the man has since retired from his post.” Her eyes lit with triumph. “I’ve visited this place many times. And seeing this shack proves that the tunnel exists.”

  Duncan shrugged. “We’ll have tae get ye inside the castle another way.”

  “But the passageway is here somewhere,” she said unhappily. She then turned, her wide eyes looking at him. “I’m nae losing my mind, I swear it.”

  But Duncan brushed past her as if he didn’t hear a word she said. Nay, she wasn’t losing her mind, but she realized that from his perspective, she still appeared as if she was a mad woman. But she knew this place. When she first came upon the old woodcutter, she had spied on him. But he knew that she watched him, and called her out. It soon became a game for her wait for him in the shed. And when he returned from his work, he would tell her fascinating stories about wood nymphs, brownies and fae creatures. “I have yet tae meet one, ye ken,” he had told her. “But ‘tis certain that they watch over me.”

  She had enjoyed their secret meetings, and she believed that he liked her company as well. But as she grew older, it became more difficult for her to leave the castle without being detected, so her adventures outside the castle walls dwindled. Still, she would come across her old friend in the great hall during meal times. And it was then that they exchanged warm, secretive smiles. But that all changed in the past few months. The old woodcutter now looked at her with suspicion and fear, and any friendliness they shared had withered away to nothing.

  Adrina smoothed her palm over the palfrey’s mane, the gesture calming her, and reminding her of her present circumstance. It wasn’t good to dwell in the past since it always left her feeling unhappy. At present, she had the elixir from Lady Venora, so she could make things right. And then once again, the people she loved would return to normal, and love her in return.

  Mentally pitching aside thoughts of the future, she drew in a deep breath. She was finally home. It was now just a matter of getting into the castle without going through the secret passage. Unfortunately at the moment, the task of getting into the fortress seemed impossible.

  She lifted her hand to her shoulder, squeezing it in an attempt to release the tension there. Closing her eyes, she focused on retrieving her lost memory. But it was as if a thick cloud had descended upon her mind, obscuring everything. How was it possible that she couldn’t remember the location of the hidden corridor when she had exited from it on numerous occasions?

  Adrina started to place her foot in the stirrup when she paused. The sack that contained her possessions hung at the side of the horse, but for some reason there was a dark spot at the bottom of the bag. Her mouth went dry as fear seized her. Slowly she placed her foot back on the ground. Reaching for the sack, she rummaged through its contents. All the while her heart pounded in her chest. She already suspected what that dark patch meant, but she had to confirm it. And when her fingers encountered the sticky substance and then the empty vial, her worst fears were realized.

  She swallowed the lump in her throat as a half sob escaped from her lips.

  “The potion is gone,” she said, holding the empty bottle in the air to show Duncan. The cork stopper at the top of the bottle was useless, as something had chipped away at it. While the hole was small, it was enough to allow the liquid to escape.

  Duncan was scanning the trees, and turned at her cry of dismay. “Are ye certain ‘tis all gone?” he asked, surprised.

  “Aye, every last drop.” Her eyes started to blur. “’Tis too late tae return tae Tancraig Castle, and obtain another bottle of the elixir. Lady Venora says that the mixture was difficult tae make. How long will it take tae brew a second batch? By the time I return home again, my parents might be dead — if they arenae dead already…”

  “Listen, Adrina,” he said, gripping her shoulders.

  “I will —” she started to say, but the urgency in his voice stopped her. His lips were tightly compressed as he stared at her intently. He then shifted his eyes overhead. Turning her head, what she saw made the blood in her veins turn to ice. There, on the tree branch, was a large raven spying on them.

  Raising his voice, Duncan said, “Nay matter how long it takes tae brew, ‘tis
important that I return for another vial. Ye stay here by this shack while I return tae Tancraig Castle. Do ye think ye can do that, lass?”

  “Aye, I think —” She stopped abruptly, and a scream tore through her lips as she watched Duncan slumping to the ground. Looking up quickly, she met frigid eyes. “Please, dinnae hurt him!”

  CHAPTER 15

  Even before Duncan opened his eyes, the smell of dark earth permeated his senses, and he was aware that he sprawled on the ground. His mouth felt as dry as old peat, and he could barely form a groan to protest the ache that thrummed at the back of his head. But a voice reached his ears, and he stilled his body.

  “Why did ye hit him sae hard?” a reedy voice hissed, his tone laced with annoyance. “When he wakes, he’ll wonder why we assaulted him.”

  “Ye didnae say that we shouldnae hit him, master,” another man responded, his voice quavering. The leader made a sound of disgust, and walked over to where Duncan lay. Sensing the other man’s scrutiny, Duncan forced himself to remain motionless, to ignore the throbbing pain which radiated to his brain. After a moment, he heard the rustling of parchment, and then the thin voice began to chant. He recognized a few of the Gaelic words, but through the hammering in his head, the rest of the incantation sounded like gibberish. A few minutes more the song finished, and he heard a soft thud, like a book closing.

  The man moved away from him, and Duncan felt that it was safe enough for him to assess his situation.

  He didn’t know what was happening, but he needed to evaluate the conditions before he could determine a sensible stratagem. It was his keen sense of observation and cunning that allowed him to get out of scrapes, and which kept him alive all these years. At this moment, his instincts told him that he was outnumbered, and the unusual lightness of his sword belt indicated that he was disarmed. The rational side of him understood that he had little chance in fighting the guards without becoming seriously maimed or butchered.

  Still, the fog that surrounded his brain began to finally lift. But how long was he unconscious? Seconds? Minutes? Hours? He recalled seeing the raven surveying them, but he hadn’t anticipated that he would be attacked from behind.

  His ears perked at the sound of the murmuring conversation off to the side. Watching through the slit of his eyes, he observed two pairs of worn leather boots, and the hem of a woman’s kirtle. At least there weren’t a dozen combatants waiting to fight him.

  Fortunately no one paid him any heed, and he took the opportunity to shift slightly in order to study his captors. Gauging the circumstance, he noted that two armed men flanked Adrina. And while she appeared dispirited, she was unharmed.

  Standing in front of the lass was an older man, who he guessed was the infamous Fingal MacNauld. A tuft of hair grew at the side of his head, leaving the middle section bare. It appeared that whatever hair he had lost on his crown was growing out from his narrow chin. Tucked underneath his arm was a leather-bound book that appeared old and worn from use. While he didn’t appear physically intimidating, the guards were strangely frightened of him.

  But Fingal wasn’t what Duncan had expected at all. From what Adrina described, he had imagined a horribly disfigured man who was evil to the core. But Fingal looked nothing out of the ordinary. If anything, he had the appearance of a harmless, ordinary clergyman. If Duncan had come across him at a small kirk, he would have thought nothing of him.

  However a cleric normally didn’t command armed warriors, he reasoned. Adrina’s warning of the advisor’s supernatural powers echoed in his mind. If her counsel was to be considered, he needed to move with caution.

  A slight movement on Fingal’s right shoulder drew Duncan’s notice, and when he peered at the black mass, he discovered a raven perched there. While his logical mind couldn’t fully accept it, he instinctively knew that this bird wasn’t a typical one. It sat quietly at its roost, listening to the muted conversation as if it understood every word. Was it possible that everything that Adrina had told him about the raven was factual, that Fingal had an unearthly connection to the animal? If this was accurate, then the creature had trailed them this entire journey, and reported its findings to its master. That was how the guards knew about the campsite, and where to find them.

  “I have tae see that he’s all right,” Adrina said, breaking away from one of the guards.

  She managed to take a step toward Duncan when Fingal barked, “Stop her.”

  The Highlander snaked his hand on her arm and jerked her back.

  “Well, well,” Fingal said, shoving the book into his belt. He walked around Adrina, circling her as if she was coveted prey. “What do we have here?” Moving to stand in front of her, he reached for her gold pin.

  Even before he touched her, Adrina flinched.

  Duncan’s body immediately tensed, but he forced himself to relax, and allowed the interplay to continue. If the man showed any intentions of hurting Adrina, Duncan would rise to her defense. It didn’t matter whether he was unarmed and outnumbered. However, Fingal didn’t appear to do anything threatening other than scrutinizing Adrina’s brooch. Duncan had seen the jewelry before and wondered why it held so much fascination for the other man. To be certain, it was a pretty object, but his sisters possessed pieces that were far more beautiful.

  For long minutes, Fingal continued to study the gold clasp, his lips pursed in concentration. He lifted his hand, comparing the gem set in the middle of the ornament, and the stone anchored on the signet ring that he wore.

  “This bloodstone is raw and unpolished,” he said finally, his tone hushed. “Where did ye get this?”

  “It has been in my family for centuries,” Adrina said, her soft voice wavering. Unconsciously, she raised her hand to cover the bauble, protecting it.

  But Fingal would have none of it. He pried her fingers away from the clip.

  Adrina batted at his hand, and took a retreating step. But then she stopped, and she squared her shoulders as the expression on her face turned defiant. “’Tis mine, and ye cannae have it.”

  “Och, sae that’s what ye think?” Fingal said, flashing his teeth.

  Duncan’s hand on the ground curled, and he realized that he clutched at a clump of grass. He slowly unfurled his fist. It wasn’t time yet.

  But then it happened so quickly that Duncan almost gave himself away too soon. Fingal’s fingers closed over the brooch, and ripped it off her plaid.

  “Nay!” she screamed.

  Her palm automatically went to the empty spot on her arisaid. She stared at the older man, shock and horror etched on her countenance.

  “I take what I want,” he said with a sneer. “I dinnae think ‘twas possible, but now I perceive why ye were immune tae my spells. ‘Tis the gemstone on your brooch that protected ye. I didnae ken why I hadnae thought about it till now.”

  “’Tis nae yours tae take,” she said in a half sob, and made a grab for his arm.

  But the advisor lifted his arm, while brushing her aside with the other, as if she was an annoying bairn.

  “Ye will nay longer need the pin,” he said calmly, dropping the jewelry into his leather sporran.

  Adrina’s face flushed, and she rushed at Fingal, intent in getting back her possession.

  Things were starting to get out of hand, and he needed to distract Fingal before he took something else from Adrina.

  Duncan let out a loud groan, pretending that he had just woken. The distraction worked, and the advisor swiveled his head, and looked over in Duncan’s direction.

  “The Highlander is awake,” he said if he was commenting on the weather. “I was hoping that my man didnae hit ye too hard.”

  “Why did he hit me?” Duncan asked, rubbing the tender spot on the back of his head for emphasis.

  “We couldnae determine whether ye were friend or foe,” he said smoothly. “’Tis best tae error on the side of caution in these days of uncertainty.”

  Duncan pushed himself up from the ground. “Aye, ‘tis true that there are ti
mes when ye cannae determine friend from foe. But ye could’ve just asked,” he grumbled. “Who are ye, and where’s Adrina?”

  “I’m Fingal MacNauld,” he said. Then he looked behind Duncan and gestured. “Conran, bring the lass over here.”

  A thick-set guard dragged Adrina over to them. The lass’ cheeks were streaked with tears, and her eyes were suffused with sorrow. “’Twas a mistake tae allow ye tae escort me here, Duncan. I’m truly sorry for bringing ye into this mess. I —”

  “Now we ken that ye are a friend,” Fingal said, interrupting her. “We’ll need tae thank ye for bringing our dear lassie home.” He placed a hand on her shoulder while she tried in vain to squirm away from his hold. Still ignoring her, he turned to Duncan, his expression serious. “Adrina hasnae been well of late. The village healer believes that demons have entered into her mind. She claims tae see and hear things beyond this realm, sae we can assume that everything she says are perpetrated by these wicked spirits, or by the Black Donald himself.”

  “She has told me strange things about sorcery…” Duncan said, allowing his voice to trail off.

  “He lies, Duncan. Dinnae believe him!” Her brown eyes shimmered with unshed tears.

  “As ye can see, she is clearly delusional,” Fingal said, shrugging. “’Tis nay wonder she behaves sae erratically. MacGill and his wife are verra concerned about her. At the verra least, they’ll be glad that their daughter is returned home safely.”

  “’Tis nae the truth,” Adrina said weakly.

  Duncan looked at her, an odd expression on his compelling features. But then he quickly averted his face. His dismissal of her shot through her as if he had taken a dagger, and stabbed it into the center of her heart. While Duncan was unconscious, Fingal conjured his magic on him. And now Duncan was as plagued as the rest of the people of Dunnvie. The advisor would convince him that she was deranged, and for her own safety, that she was better off locked up in the high tower. And if Duncan remembered their time together at all, he would likely regret making love to her. That realization pierced another hole in her heart. After all this time, she had finally found a valiant man whom she respected and cared for. He was more than her imaginary lover; he was a part of her reality. And she loved him, she realized. She had loved him even before she met him. But Fingal would ultimately turn Duncan against her — just as he set everyone else to oppose her. She didn’t know how she could handle Duncan’s eventual disinterest. Perhaps she would have been better off if she hadn’t experienced that slice of happiness in the woods. Perhaps then she wouldn’t have to patch up the holes in her heart.