Lady of the Mountain

by Lyn Armstrong

  Braen rose from the floor to answer the door when the lass grabbed his arm.

  “Please do not tell my father I am here.”

  He winked at her and opened the door a crack while the lass hid behind.

  The innkeeper tried to push his way through, but Braen leaned on the door jam, blocking entrance with his body.

  “I am looking for my daughter, is she here?”

  “Nae, and I am still waiting for my hot meal,” he replied coolly and rubbed the sides of his mouth.

  “Well… eh, if you see her, tell her she has chores to do.”

  He nodded and closed the door.

  “Thank you,” she said, her hand clutched at her chest. “I must go.”

  Picking up her hand, he placed a tender kiss on it. “’Twas a pleasure.”

  The wench left and Braen wondered if he should relieve his own desires or seek food for his growling stomach. Opening the door, he decided he could wait no longer—he was starving.

  Braen had a feeling the innkeeper deliberately kept him waiting so he would come downstairs for his food. That way he could watch his daughter and his patron simultaneously.

  When he entered the main room and saw the smirk on the innkeeper’s face, he knew he was right.

  Shrugging his shoulders, he sat at a table in the corner. He did not care. He got what he wanted—the taste of a woman and information. He needed only to travel to Gleich castle and convince the warlock and sorcerer that they must accompany him to Mount Suilven.

  He winked at the wench at the bar, and she smiled. With the trencher of food, she weaved her way through people toward him until her father stopped her and took the tray from her hands. The morose innkeeper carried Braen’s food and dropped it on the table.

  Braen chuckled. “I see you have found your daughter.”

  The innkeeper growled and left.

  “I would like ale as well,” he called to him. The larger man stopped and then continued without looking back.

  A satisfied smile crept onto his face. He supposed he should not antagonize the poor man, but he could not help it. It was entertaining. The innkeeper returned with his ale and promptly left.

  Taking a sip of the cheap mead, he peered over the rim of his mug. Two attractive people sat at a table opposite him. Judging by the expensive material of their fine garments, they had to be wealthy. Perhaps even nobility. However, the way they openly stared at each other with lust was anything but noble.

  Braen picked up a chicken leg and bit into the juicy meat.

  He studied the couple again. The lady had a darker shade of red hair than the wench, but no less appealing. Her blue velvet gown hugged the curves of her breasts while a pearl necklace hung delicately upon her creamy skin.

  Notably distracted, the nobleman wore a kilt with a green cloak clasped by a black jeweled brooch. His features were that of an angel with golden hair and fair skin, but Braen had seen enough fierce Scotsmen to know that looks could be deceiving.

  Braen stopped chewing when he saw the lady slightly lift her gown to one side while inclining closer to the nobleman. Covertly, the man snaked his hand under the table and ran it up her exposed thigh.

  She giggled, her eyes sparkling with adoration.

  Braen licked his lips. A sense of longing engulfed his stomach. It was one thing to dally with a wench and satisfy his physical needs, but something was missing. Something the couple before him, shared.

  The lady whispered into the nobleman’s ear, and the man abruptly turned in Braen’s direction. Braen averted his gaze, not realizing he had stared too long at the couple while lost in thought.

  He placed his hand on the hilt of his sword, waiting for the man to challenge him. He was surprised when the man stared at him with a frown and mumbled beneath his breath. Was he chanting a spell?

  Suddenly, the mug of ale by Braen’s side tipped over, splashing the mead over his breeches. Somehow, the noble had spilled Braen’s drink without even getting up from his table.

  Braen pushed to his feet with mounting rage. He wiped away the residue, and then walked over to the couple. He had looked forward to drinking that ale.

  As he approached, the noble rose to his full height, the same as his own.

  “If you do not want people watching, then I suggest you retire to a room,” Braen’s defiant tone stabbed the air.

  The noble’s eyes darkened with the insult, and he placed his hand on the hilt of his sword at his waist. “You have insulted my lady wife.”

  “I was not the one touching her in public.”

  The lady placed a restraining hand on her husband’s arm, but he continued to stare at Braen with murder in his eyes.

  The sweaty innkeeper rushed over, wiping his hand on his filthy shirt. “Is there a problem Laird Roberts?”

  “Nothing that a good thrashing would not help,” the noble answered.

  God’s wounds. Trust his ill luck to start a fight with Callum Roberts, the very warlock he sought.

  “My laird, allow me to discard this scum for you,” the innkeeper announced, brave now that the valiant warlock was nearby.

  Braen stepped back and pulled his sword. “You are both welcome to try,” he said, his tone confident and defiant.

  The lady rose and stepped from around the table. “There will be no fighting and no removal of anybody.”

  “Alayne, you do not need to be a part of this,” Callum said.

  “I already am and will not be the reason for you gentlemen to cross swords.” She stared at her husband, and he begrudgingly lifted his hands to concede.

  She faced the innkeeper, “Master Niall, fetch this man another drink… my husband will pay for it.”

  The dark look on Callum’s face caused Braen to laugh. To think, he was jealous of the noble’s intimate closeness with a woman. After seeing the wife take control of the situation, Braen wasn’t so sure he wanted what the warlock had.

  Yet, he was grateful he did not need to fight the laird. The man would be worthless to him dead.

  “Sir, wipe that smile off your face or I will allow my husband to teach you manners.”

  Braen bowed and went back to his table. Picking up his food, he turned one of the chairs around and placed it at the noble’s table. Their eyes widened in shock as he sat down and began eating his chicken.

  “We have given you no permission to sit with us,” Callum snarled.

  Braen did not have an exact plan, instead acting on instinct. He had to think of a way to convince the warlock to help him.

  “Oh, I think you will, once you hear what I have to say.” Braen faked a nonchalant poise and took another bite of his meat.

  “Pray tell, what would a stranger to my land have to tell me?”

  He took his time in swallowing the food that seemed lodged in his throat.

  “I know where your father is.”

  _

  Chapter Four

  Drucilla jumped at the sound of her mother’s angry tone. Pivoting on her heel, she faced the irate sorceress, whose ruby gown swished around her ankles as if the garment felt the sting of betrayal. If Drucilla did not know any better, she would think the enchanted material was readying to attack her.

  “I… I saw the door left open,” she stammered, sweat beading on her upper lip.

  Her mother glided into the chamber and went straight to the bowl. “Think you that is an invitation to invade my private chamber?”

  Drucilla glanced down at her feet. Her arm was suddenly yanked as she was pulled closer to the sorceress. Face to face, she smelled wine on her mother’s breath.

  “What did you see?” she asked.

  “In your chamber?”

  “Do not play coy with me! What did you see in the scrying bowl?”

  “No… nothing, Mother.”

  Her mother released her arm, pushing her away. “Leave me.”

  Wringing her hands, Drucilla hastened to the door.

  “Never return to this chamber again. If I find you have been
in here—the consequences will be severe.”

  Drucilla stopped by the door and nodded, then left.

  Her heart raced with a new kind of adrenaline. Was this fear? Nae, after living in purgatory along with her mother’s quick temper, she knew what fear felt like.

  Then why did her heart feel as if it was about to leap out of her body?

  She walked down the empty hallway; a crisp draft caressed her face. The image of the handsome man caused her stomach to tingle. Her skin became sensitive to the smooth fabric of her silky white gown as the garment responded to the new sensations. Is this strange feeling because of the man in the scrying bowl? Who was this stranger and why did he appear in her mother’s enchanted wine?

  “Good day,” a male’s voice called to her from the solar as she walked passed.

  Drucilla halted and peeked back. “Father?”

  Bathed in the sunlight from the glassed walls, the tall and regal angelic man stood with his arms open, a welcoming smile across his face. “Come give me a hug, daughter.”

  Drucilla’s heart dropped to her stomach. Could this be real? Could she accept his love without suspicion as she had been taught to do all her life?

  His smile faded as he watched her indecision.

  The ache in her chest constricted.

  Curse it!

  She ran toward him.

  Tears streamed down her cheeks as he gathered her into his arms and swung her around the room. Inside, a reasoned voice chided her not to believe in his love. He was, after all, under a trance. He did not even know her.

  But another voice, a hurt young voice said to take whatever she could get from him. Take the love he offered and be thankful he was here.

  “Oh, Father I have missed you.”

  He placed her on her feet and kissed her on the forehead. “I have not gone anywhere,” he said, his brows set in confusion, “I have been here for you all your life.”

  Drucilla wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. Instead, she just smiled through her tears and nodded.

  Resting her head against his warm chest, she wrapped her arms around him.

  I pray you will never leave me.

  Phillip pulled away and looked around the chamber, his gaze confused. “I know this may sound peculiar, but I seem to have forgotten my way. Can you show me to my chamber?”

  She giggled nervously. “Aye, Father. ’Tis this way.”

  Lacing her arm through his, she led him out of the solar.

  What was she going to do? She needed a chamber filled with everything a male could want. What did men want? She thought of all the books she had read, the paintings of castles, knights and kings. Swords, aye, swords must be in the chamber.

  They reached the upper floor landing when she turned down one of the many hallways. She would give him the large chamber facing the waterfall and gardens.

  “Father, I am not sure the… the servant has done her proper duty in cleaning your chamber. Please remain out here while I go ahead and check for you.”

  Phillip laughed. “It matters not to me…”

  “But it matters to me. Part of my duty here is to make sure the palace runs smoothly.”

  Crossing his arms, he smiled at her. “Then do as you please, milady.”

  Drucilla slid between the crack of the door, mindful not to let her father see into the empty chamber.

  The soothing sound of the waterfall echoed into the room while Drucilla stood on the bare floor. Opening her arms, she closed her eyes and whispered:

  Take my knowledge

  and use the dust,

  fill this chamber,

  detail is a must.

  The room glittered and then filled with warm tapestries of knights on horses and scenic mountains. A large bed with furs appeared along with a long, red-cushioned bench near the foot. Three masculine chests sat along the wall, and mounted above were swords and shields, their polished metal gleaming from the candle scones on either side.

  “Now, this is a chamber befitting my father.” Smiling to herself, she opened the door. “’Tis clean, you may enter.”

  Phillip strolled in and surveyed the room. His curious eyes held a sense of confusion, yet the enchantment did not allow him to see through. Instead, his mind allowed it to be familiar to him.

  Unwilling to face him any longer, Drucilla lowered her eyes and walked to the fire mantle, her hand resting on the smooth dark wood. Her head swirled with uncertainties. Was she doing the right thing? Or was she being selfish, allowing her mother’s intrigues?

  Phillip stood next to her by the fireplace and held her hand. “What is amiss?”

  “Father, are you sure you want to be here?”

  “Where else would I want to be, if you are not there?”

  She smiled and lowered her chin. Tears welled in her eyes again, and she cursed her raw emotions.

  “Come, let us go for a ride,” he offered and walked to the window. “It is a lovely day.”

  A frown etched on his brow when he looked outside at the gardens.

  “What is it?” she asked and followed him.

  “Who is that man talking to my wife?”

  Drucilla leaned on the window and watched her mother walk through the gardens with her unicorn.

  “I only see my unicorn, Silas.”

  “Nae that is no unicorn, it is a man with curly russet hair and wide shoulders. He appears to be limping.”

  She looked at her father and back to the garden. He must be confused. Aye, her mother was talking to the unicorn, but the sorceress did that from time to time.

  She hoped the enchantment was not affecting Phillip’s mind in an adverse way.

  Taking both his hands into hers, she said, “Perhaps we should get you something to eat.”

  Before turning away, she watched her mother talk to the unicorn; her hand gesture stabbed the air while agitation twisted her beautiful face.

  Was she angry with Silas?

  Drucilla led Phillip to the kitchen and cooked a hearty meal for her father. She enjoyed the easy conversation they shared and asked him about his youth. He showed her the faint scar on his cheek that he had put there to mar his features so the other lads would not tease him for looking handsome. She shook her head and they both laughed.

  So this was what it was like to have a father. Although it took a while not to flinch when he hugged her, she tried to relax with his casual affection. Human touch was still foreign to her.

  The sound of horse hooves echoed from the hallway into the kitchen.

  Drucilla pulled her father up from the kitchen chair. “Come, I want you to meet Silas.”

  He smiled and followed her outside the kitchen.

  The unicorn clip-clopped his way toward her, the horn sparkled as he nodded his head when he saw her. She touched his nose and walked around to pat his warm neck. “Father, I want you to meet my unicorn, Silas.”

  Phillip’s head tilted to the side with confusion. “Daughter, I do not understand. I see a man before me.”

  Drucilla gasped. Not again.

  “Nae, this is a unicorn.” She hauled herself up onto his back and leaned over his neck to rub his black-tipped ears.

  Phillip looked horrified and stepped back. “I… I think I need to rest.” Turning, he walked away, shaking his head.

  “Why does he think you are a…”

  A heavy lump formed in her throat and shot to her stomach. Quickly, she slid off the unicorn and faced him.

  Her hands clenched at her sides while her lips pressed together. Fury warmed her body causing her head to ache. “Reveal yourself!”

  Silas shook his great mane.

  “Do it or I will curse you with a thousand bee stings.”

  The unicorn lowered onto one of its knees, his head tucked under. The smell of burnt fur wafted around the animal as it slowly turned into a man on his knee, his chin lowered. With short curly brown hair, gray eyes and a devilishly handsome face, the slender man looked up at her with remorse.

 
“You deceived me, Silas.”

  He rose to his feet and stood in a long ivory gown. His ethereal eyes pleaded with her as he held out his hands. “’Twas forbidden to change in front of you.”

  Smacking his hands away from her, she turned her back on him. “You are my only friend. I trusted you. You watched me bath and change clothes.”

  “I will not ask for pardon; you are a beautiful woman. One I have wanted to make love to since I was sent here. But your mother said if I touched you in any way, she would lop off my horn.”

  Drucilla’s head hurt with a mixture of emotions. “Make love to me? All this time you were watching me, desiring me…” She shook her head. “I do not understand.”

  She went to leave when suddenly she turned back to him. “Who sent you?”

  “The sorceress. I am to report everything you do. Well, at least until the day of your twenty-fifth birth.”

  “Why are you not needed after that day?”

  He swallowed and avoided her gaze.

  “Silas?”

  “I do not know.”

  Drucilla thought there was more, but did not want to push him further. She had a great deal to consider; so much had happened. She met her father, saw a vision of a man that she could not get out her head, and now, her friend was not a unicorn but a real person, sent to watch over her by Torella.

  “Do not be vexed with me, Drucilla.”

  He went to embrace her when she stepped away, her emotions raw. “Change back and do not tell the sorceress anything.”

  “But—”

  “Be thankful I do not curse you after betraying me so. And from now on, cease watching me bath.”

  Rubbing her temples, she walked away.

  Why would her mother need someone to guard her until her twenty-fifth? It was not as if she could leave the mountain. There was one thing she did know—the sorceress did nothing without benefiting herself.

  If she wanted answers, there was only one forbidden place she could find them–her mother’s personal chamber.

  Chapter Five

  Braen rose before dawn and left Machara Inn behind as he made his way through the highland’s craggy hills to Gleich Castle. He rubbed the sleet from his tired, dry eyes. Sleep had been almost impossible after the warlock and his wife left. Callum had summoned him to Gleich Castle, and although the warlock remained suspicious of him, Braen knew he would not pass a chance at finding his father.