Staring at the far wall, the urge to cry welled up again. Angus had saved her life—one she had almost willingly thrown away. The man had risked death by the hand of her evil aunt to save her and now he was out there, risking it again, for her and his people’s sake. How could she not love this man? Somewhere along the line, he had stolen a part of her soul and the rest that he had left with her was aching for him.
Sitting up, she raked her hand through her hair and winced at the tangles. With the sheet wrapped around her, she went to Angus’ chest, seeking a comb. She stiffened when the door opened and a throat cleared behind her. Magdalene felt her cheeks redden—it was Lady Isobel with a gown folded over her arm. She was basically naked under the sheet. Her embarrassment could only be worse if the lady had walked in on her and Angus in a compromising position.
“I’m not here to make ye uncomfortable,” Lady Isobel said graciously. “And it’s nae as if I dinnae ken yer importance to Angus, darling.”
I wish the earth would open up and swallow me.
She found the courage to face the older woman, “Good morning, Lady Isobel.”
The Scotswoman smiled. “Indeed, it is. Would ye like to accompany me to the great hall?”
Trepidation leaped into her throat at picturing the great hall. Everyone had to know she was related to the witch. Angus wasn’t there so his presence would not protect her. She didn’t know if the people were revengeful but Perse had harmed a lot of people. “I…don’t think that will go down well.”
“Magdalene,” Lady Isobel said. “If ye hide out here, ye will be doing more harm than good.”
She was right. It felt like a slap to her face but she was right. Sooner or later she would have to face up to the reality of the situation. “I’ll come with you. I just need to clean up first.”
Lady Isobel rested the gown on the nearest chair, “I’ll send water up for ye.”
She braced for sneers, hard eyes and whispers but the silence that blanketed the hall when she and Lady Isobel entered was louder than any blaring war horn. Magdalene held her head high but the eyes felt sharper than daggers slicing under her skin. It had to stop.
She stopped and spun to the filled great hall, chest trembling but her determination was sure. Her head tilted up even more. “Yes, what you heard is right, my aunt is the witch.”
Lady Isobel’s eyes were wide and Ailsa’s jaw had dropped as audible gasps ran around the room. Malcolm was stunned but his hand flew to his sword just in case. “I came to Scotland to live with her because there was disruption in my family. I did not believe that she was a witch so I ran to find her. I asked her to come clear her name but that very night she drugged me and took me to a cave to sacrifice me for my blood.”
Horror-filled gasps rang through the room but she heard some mutter. “She should’ve.”
“I was nearly just another victim,” she said. “So do not think I don’t share in the grief and horror you do. If it was not for Angus, I would be dead, too.”
“But yer nae,” a harsh voice spat, that of Elder Sinead Hallagan. “Yer piddling blood couldn’ae buy back the lives of those honorable Scots who died by yer aunt’s demented acts but many wished it would have. Mayhap this is a trick too, and witchin’ runs in yer blood.”
Lady Isobel stepped forward with her face darkened but Magdalene held out her hand to stop her. “Let him have his say.”
“That’s the only reason I can see our Laird takes up with ye, ye bewitched him, ye whore,” he spat.
Two elderly women had their hands over their mouths and others around the room showed their disgust at his words but Magdalene could see some who nodded in approval with the Elder.
“Elder Hallagan!” Lady Isobel snapped but Magdalene’s cool tones cut her off.
“Is that what you think I am?” She asked, “A whore?”
“Aye,” Elder Sinead Hallagan sneered as his eyes dipped in scorn. “A filthy whore, yer tainted Sassenach blood minglin’ with pure blood disgusts me. We all ken ye sleep with Laird Ratagan. Have ye nae shame?”
“Enough Hallagan!” Lady Isobel cut in once more.
“No,” Magdalene stopped her again. “Let him get it all out.”
“That’s all I have to say,” Elder Sinead Hallagan sneered. “Yer nae worth me attention or interest. Soon Me Laird will come to his senses and ye’ll be an afterthought.”
“Is that all?” Magdalene looked around the room. “Anyone else? Please come up, you must have something to say.”
Her gaze made some flinch away and the silence continued until it got stifling. She then turned back to Elder Hallagan. “I will not delude myself that you are the only one who thinks I am not fit for Angus, but I love him. Yes, I have sinned but my heart is already his and I am married to him in everything but the ceremony. Your hate can poison you as long as you let it but I will be there for Angus as long as he will let me. I am English, yes, but there is nothing tainted about being in love with him. I was wrong in defending my Aunt, who tried to kill me as well, and he found me and forgave me. I have made my mistakes and I will do so as I am not perfect, but be free to cast the first stone. Angus saved my life in Edinburgh and there is nothing I would not do for him.”
“If it were up to me ye could go back to the backwater swamp that is England,” Elder Hallagan sniffed as he turned away.
Lady Isobel’s hand gently turned her away from the man and towards the high table. The lines in her face were deep with concern but her eyes held deep respect. “I would applaud ye Magdalene but ye just made an enemy.”
“That makes two, he and my Aunt,” Magdalene sighed as she looked at the empty seat Angus sat in. “I wish there were none.”
Seabhag Crag
The plume of smoke in the direction of the witch’s house drew Angus like a moth to a flame. He spurred Titan into a full gallop and got to the house—or what remained of it anyway—in what felt like moments. The cork widows were burnt out and the wooden door, sporting ax-marks, was scorched and was dangled by one hinge.
Someone had decided that enough was enough. But how far had they gotten? Could it be that he’d find the witch burnt like many of her victims? He could only hope. Jumping off Titan, he patted the horse on the neck and drew his sword.
Cautiously advancing in he spotted broken chairs, the remains of a table fit only for firewood, and blackened pots and pans resting in the belly of the hearth. He took the stairs and saw familiar destruction in every room. The one with the crystals and herbs was a blackened, cloying mess and also in the attic, but no smoldering remains of a witch. The falcon, however, was gone.
Sliding the sword back into the scabbard he grimaced. Where is this woman?
Kicking a broken chair, he went back to Titan and mounted him. He was unsettled, something was not right. He found it hard to believe the witch just gave up on reclaiming her youth just yet. Trotting back to the Williamson stronghold, he sighed with relief at seeing the castle peak from the distance.
He nodded to the guards at the main gate and directed Titan to the courtyard. Calling over a squire to take his mount back to the stable, he ran inside, desirous of seeing Magdalene and telling her what had happened at her aunt’s home. He found her in his rooms, out on the terrace. She was magnificent in the afternoon light.
She spun, “Did you find her?”
“Nae,” Angus said tightly. “But her home is a picture of destruction, me love. Someone burned it out to the bones.”
Magdalene scoffed. “I wouldn’t pass the notion that she did it herself.”
“That too,” Angus agreed. “But the ax marks in the doorway would say somethin’ different.”
“You think someone killed her?” Magdalene asked with lowered brows.
“Could be,” Angus shrugged. “Until she shows up again or her body is found, we’ll have to assume so. And ye? How was yer day?”
Her slim hand rested on his chest. “Elder Hallagan and I had a few words. Your mother asked me to go with her to the dining
room and I did. I was fearful but I did,” she swallowed tightly and Angus could see sorrow and aggravation in her eyes. “He called me your whore.”
Anger raced through his veins, followed by a surge of bristling protectiveness. How dare his elder or anyone, accuse Magdalene of being a whore? “He did, did he?”
Just as he was about to spin, she stopped him. “It’s fine, Angus. You mother and I got the situation under control. It’s not like I expected everyone to welcome me without reservations like you and your family have.”
“Nevertheless, I will have me words with him,” Angus said directly.
Pulling her close, he wrapped his arms around her waist from behind and kissed under her ear. “Magdalene, I never thought I’d fall in love again until ye entered me life and changed the horrible future I was headin’ into for a better one.”
Her head leaned back on his shoulder, and in the same tender tone replied. “And I never imagined I’d find love in a place I was going to for isolation.”
“All things work for the best, eh,” Angus said as he took them to the chair, sat and pulled her onto his lap. “Look at this sunset, love.”
The sky was beautifully chaotic. Shades of shimmering yellow-gold, burnt orange, and bloody red coated the heavenly canvas. The clouds were lined with silver and at the edges of the horizon, they could see the deep indigo of night begin to steal in.
“I’m in love with your home,” Magdalene admitted. “You’d never see sunsets like this in England.”
Pride filled his chest at her admission and they sat there until thick blue-black coated the once colorful sky and a cool wind was picking up. Angus kissed her neck, “Let’s go inside, supper must be ready.”
Standing, she took his hand and they left the room to the lower levels. Angus entered before her, his presence a strong deterrent to any who might have words to say about Magdalene. Hallagan was not in the room but that was not going to stop him from saying some choice words when he found him.
Malcolm was face down on the table and Ailsa was using the end of her knife to poke him. The soldier was blindly swatting at his sister and she was giggling. Nothing strange except that his mother was missing.
Mayhap she’s in the kitchens.
He sat as the servants came out with the stacks of trenchers and tubs of stew. Angus pulled the chair for Magdalene to sit and then took the seat beside her. He kept scanning the hall for the Hallagan and his mother. Neither came in.
Concerned, he roused Malcolm, “Where is Mother?”
“Damned if I ken,” the soldier grunted. “Last I heard she said she was going to gather some herbs.”
“What?” Angus exclaimed. He grabbed his brother by the shoulders and shook him. “What did ye say? Ye let her go out by herself? With the witch still at large?”
“Calm down,” Malcolm grunted. “She just went to the backyard behind the stables and that was hours ago. I’m sure she’s safe somewhere, maybe in her room.”
Angus cursed under his breath and ran out. This was bad, horribly bad. He ran to his mother’s rooms and pushed the door in, his heart pounding in his ears. “Mother!”
Silence met him, she was not there, and his pulse went through the roof. What almost made him teeter on the edge of an apoplexy was that the witch’s damn falcon came sweeping in to rest on the window sill. Attached to it its leg was a scroll. Furious, Angus reached out and grabbed the bird by its throat. Its beak was dipping and stabbing into his skin but Angus was merciless. He crushed the bird's throat, snatched the scroll away and dropped the carcass to the ground.
He swiftly unrolled the scroll and a lock of brown hair—his mother’s hair— bounded tightly dropped out. Written on the scroll was, ‘Yer mother or Magdalene, choose. Castlerigg Mountain stones, midnight.”
A litany of curses flew out of his mouth as his hand nearly clenched the scroll into a ball.
“Angus?” Magdalene’s soft voice came from the doorway. She came in and stopped short at the sight of the dead falcon and Angus’ bloody hand. “What is that?”
“That damned bird is yer aunt’s falcon and this,” he grimaced. “Is a ransom note from her. She’s taken my mother, Magdalene, in exchange for ye.”
“We must go,” Magdalene exclaimed, taking the scroll from him and reading the words. “Angus, we must save your mother!”
“Nae in exchange for ye,” Angus said but his face showed his disgust at his own words. He began to pace, “I cannae do this.”
Magdalene darted in front of him, “Angus, this is your mother we’re talking about. We have to save her.”
“Nae!” Angus said even as his words wobbled. “Nae….”
“Nae what?” Malcolm asked from the doorway. He came in and looked at the dead bird on the floor with his eyebrows arching.
“Mother,” Angus said through grit teeth, “The witch took her to Castlerigg Rock and now she’s demanding Magdalene for Mother.”
“So?” Malcolm asked. “It’s fairly cut and dry Angus. We take few of our best fighters up there, get Mother back, and kill the witch. What’s so troubling?”
“That I’d lose either of them or both!” Angus blurted. “The witch is a master strategist, Malcolm, she put out traps that almost killed me. Dinnae ye ken she’s dae the same?”
“I still dinnae see the problem,” Malcolm added. “Angus, ye’ve been bearing this burden yerself for far too long now. Let us lift some of the weight from yer shoulders. Ye had hundreds of men at yer disposal, any and all of them might be happy to face death for ye.”
It felt… strange to be offered relief from this burden, one he had taken up and had vowed to carry to the end. He saw deep sincerity in Malcolm’s eyes and it was mirrored in Magdalene’s. Malcolm dropped a hand on his shoulder and with it, his gaze went to his brother. “I swear to ye, we’ll come out victorious.”
Angus’ shoulders straightened. “Get me five men, all armed and all ready to walk into hell with me.”
A dangerous grin spread across Malcolm’s face, “Aye.”
Turning to Magdalene he said, “I’d prefer to leave ye here but that won’t work with ye, will it?”
“Do you have to ask?” Magdalene said with an incredulous look. “And my presence will give you a distraction. She’ll be focusing on me so you’ll have time to subdue and kill her.”
“I dinnae want to use ye,” Angus said.
“Actually,” Malcolm’s unwanted voice chipped in, “The lass has a point. She can be a valuable distraction.”
“Talk to me after ye find the love of yer life and throw her into danger. Matter of fact, why are ye still here?” Angus glared over his shoulder only to have Malcolm laugh and run out. He then turned to Magdalene and his hand drifted up to her face, “I cannae live with meself if ye get hurt.”
“Then the only option is not to get hurt,” Magdalene said wily.
The night sky was a blanket of darkness as the new moon was still in high force. Magdalene knew this was why Perse needed her, the ritual was going to be strongest under a moonless night. Magdalene didn’t know what time they had set out—and how Angus could tell time without the moon was a mystery—to this Castlerigg Rock to meet her aunt. The only light they had were the stars above. The men were carrying torches but they were not lit yet.
The deal was her in exchange for Angus’ mother. What her aunt had not bargained for was the ambush of seven armored soldiers. Dressed in the breeches Ailsa had given her, boots, one of Angus’ shirts and a cap to hide her hair, she was in the middle of the group that was swiftly riding to the meeting place.
The beardy heads of tall grass brushed her legs as they climbed the hilly rise. If she looked back and to the northwest, she could see the blinking lights of Williamson’s castle but she faced forwards rather grimly. This was the last chance they had to kill Perse and Angus was not leaving without her dead.
They came upon a plateau, magnificently wide, hulking masses in a circle. As she got near her eyes widened. Where those the stones
Angus had told her about when they made the plan to rescue Lady Isobel? Far off, she could see the dark rise of hills and rocky outcropping but the ring of stones was predominant in her vision. Angus had told her that when the Romans had conquered Scotland, they had used this site for sun worship. It was a heathen site.
As she and Angus alone passed through a set of stones, an ominous shiver ran over her body. No wonder Perse had chosen this place, perhaps hundreds of sacrifices had been done there.
A single torch blazed up and there, on one of the flat stones, lay a body with the tails of a gown dangling over an edge—Lady Isobel. Standing behind her was another figure, dressed in dark robes and holding a wicked dagger that sent fear running through Magdalene. Wind fluttered Perse’s cloak and the shadows that played over her pale body made her an eerie sight.
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