by Mary Morgan
Concern filled Erina, and she took a place beside her. “Is this better?”
Mairi fisted her hands within the folds of her smock. “Many have whispered ye ken the secrets of binding a man to one’s heart.” She glanced sideways at Erina. “Is it rumor or truth?”
What Erina feared had come to light, though she was not surprised. The old laird most likely wove a horrific tale about her heathen practices to all within his clan. Choosing her words carefully, she replied, “I have no special knowledge, Mairi. Why do ye ask?”
Shaking her head, she muttered, “Ye were my last hope…”
Erina placed a gentle hand on the woman’s arm. “There is always hope, so speak your mind.”
“Nae, I must not concern ye with my problems. Ye are the laird’s sister.” Mairi twisted the material on her smock.
“And yet, ye were willing to seek my aid in securing a man’s heart.”
“It was Larena’s fault. She told me to come seek ye out for a charm,” Mairi blurted out, and then quickly added, “She kens the old ways and told me ye do as well. Dinnae worry, I can pay ye.”
Ahh…the light of truth reveals itself with the cook, Larena. “Tell me about this man who burns within your heart, Mairi.”
The woman gaped at her in stunned silence. Finally collecting herself, Mairi whispered, “His name is…Bryson.”
“I will require more information to create a love charm,” urged Erina, realizing she stood on a dangerous path. Nevertheless, she grew tired of hiding behind fear and superstitious beliefs.
Mairi clasped her hands. “Ye will help me? Ye ken the secrets?”
Nodding slowly, she replied, “Aye.”
For the next several moments, Mairi gushed on about the man she longed to claim as her husband. Quiet and reserved, he worked in the kitchens as the butcher. He came to Kileburn soon after the old laird passed. As he was a hard and able worker, Mairi deemed him to be a good choice for a husband.
“And ye believe he has feelings for ye?”
“Most assuredly.” She leaned nearer. “Often times, I find him staring at me. As if, I was a lamb and he the lion. Have ye never had another leave ye breathless?”
Only one. Ignoring the woman’s question, Erina brushed a hand over her gown. “If he desires ye, then why do ye require a love charm?”
Standing abruptly, she responded, “Because I have nae wish to see him with another. I want him for my verra own.”
He is a wanderer with women, and ye are a fool. Folding her hands in her lap, Erina nodded. “I have all the essential information and will bring ye what ye seek on the eve of the full moon.”
Mairi hugged her fiercely. “Thank ye, my lady.”
“Erina, please.” Her voice muffled within the embrace.
The woman glowed as she darted away, and Erina leaned back against the wall. Discontent filled her. Perchance she should abandon bringing the hope of love to couples. Most demanded her charms for all the wrong reasons. Did they not comprehend that love can be fickle? Even the strongest lure can suffer severe consequences.
“Two charms in a week. I shall have to bind them well.” Standing, Erina glanced out of the window. Her brother and Rory were no longer in the lists, and she quickly banished all thoughts of the tall giant with mesmerizing eyes.
After retrieving her cloak from her chamber, she made her way to the kitchens. Snatching a basket off a hook from the wall, Erina briefly glimpsed the man, Bryson, hacking away at a carcass of some poor dead animal. Stunned to find him older than the way Mairi described him, she made a mental note to weave the charm firmly for long life.
Turning around, she traveled along a corridor leading out into the back herb garden. The sun splintered through the gray clouds, and Erina lifted her head to the glorious warmth. Moving toward an area filled with yarrow, marigolds, violets, and pansies, clustered in the center, she knelt down. The simple task relaxed her as she relied on her senses for the right colors, scents, and most interesting mix for a charm.
She smiled and held her hand outward. After saying a silent prayer of thanks, she plucked a few and dropped the flower heads in her basket. Snipping off a couple of the long vines with leaves, she considered using them in the charm, too. Standing, she shook out her gown and headed for the vervain. As she brushed her hand over the flowers, she hesitated. This particular item would have to wait until the sun set, since one could not harvest any for charms unless the sun and moon were not in the sky.
Erina continued to stroll along the path and admire her brother’s garden as she added more flowers and herbs to her basket. Humming a tune, she tried in vain to search for foxglove—an essential flower. Birds darted in and out of the garden, oblivious to her movements. Approaching a stone archway, Erina pushed against the wooden door and was surprised to see the path led down to the river.
A cluster of foxglove beneath a few rowan trees caught her eye, and she quickly made her way through the brush. The flowers she sought were close to the river, and the gently flowing water beckoned to her. After quickly collecting what she required, Erina walked toward the soothing water gently lapping over the stones.
After placing her basket on the ground, she slipped off her cloak. Stretching out her arms, she tried to work out the knots in her shoulders. The past few days had made her tense and wary. She treasured this time alone. If only her brother understood, but no, Graham was determined to keep her at Kileburn. She prayed Laird MacGregor would not be staying long. As soon as he and his daughter departed, Erina would be on her horse and gone from this place.
Bending down, she dipped her fingers in the cool water. Dead leaves drifted, landing in the river. A reminder that winter would soon follow. Nevertheless, Erina watched their beautiful golden colors swept up within the dark current.
Startled by a loud splash, she stood abruptly and almost tumbled into the river. As she shielded her eyes, she stood transfixed. This was the second time Erina found herself in awe of Rory MacGregor. His back was to her as he stood staring off into the trees. Water trickled down his back to places that remained hidden beneath the surface of the water.
Her face heated as she continued to admire his naked upper body. Strange markings covered most of his back, and Erina grew curious. She tried to recall where she had seen them. Was it with her grandmother?
The man lingered in the flowing river, oblivious to her intrusion. Finally shifting his stance, he ran his hands through his dark locks. Biting her lower lip, Erina tried to calm her racing heart. As a lady, she should look away. But as a woman, desire compelled her to prolong her gaze over his magnificent body.
A hawk’s screech startled Erina, and this time she slipped on the smooth stones and tumbled into the river. Cold murkiness descended all around her. As she struggled to stand, Erina’s gown held her fast in the flowing current. She fought for air, but only managed to swallow great amounts of water. Her arms flailed about in an attempt to keep her steady, but the water was stronger. And the more she fought, the more the darkness descended all around her.
“Erina!”
She could hear Rory calling out to her from afar. His voice demanding a reply, but she was unable to acknowledge him. Suddenly, powerful arms surrounded her, lifting her against his chest. He glided effortlessly through the water until they reached the ground. There he released his hold, and she dropped to the ground onto her knees.
Gasping for breath, Erina coughed and turned her head. Great spasms wracked her body, and she heaved the contents of her stomach onto the ground.
Rory knelt beside her. His fingers wiped the matted hair away from her face and massaged her neck. He spoke in soothing words Erina did not comprehend, and her chest burned with each inhale of breath. But soon, her breathing slowed, and he settled her onto his lap.
“Thank ye,” she mumbled, coughing from the effort. “Ye…ye have great strength to bring us both from the water so quickly.”
“Ye should not be by the water, if ye cannot swim. Furthermore, ’tis
dangerous to be near the water in heavy material,” he chastised, though his voice held concern.
Stunned by his comment, Erina glanced outward, trying to compose herself. Being in his arms caused her to become flustered. Heat radiated off the man, and she fought the urge to place her head on his shoulder. Her face continued to burn even more, as she noted his appearance. The man wore nothing but a plaid wrapped around his waist, obviously snatched the moment he brought her to the riverbank. She swallowed. “I dinnae fear the water. I have always longed to learn, but sadly, my grandmother was not an expert at teaching me this particular skill.”
When Rory remained silent, she stole a glimpse at his rugged profile. A muscle twitched in his jaw, and she sensed frustration seething within the man. He refused to meet her gaze.
“Will ye teach me?” she asked softly, stunned she said the words out loud, and fearing his answer.
He snapped his attention to hers. “Why not ask your brother?”
“Ahh…but then it would give him recourse to keep me longer at Kileburn. Whereas, ye might be able to show me a few lessons before ye depart.”
Arching a brow, he shook his head. Yet, Erina did not know if it was in answer to her question or something else. Deciding to change the subject, she asked, “Do the blue markings on your back have meaning? Were they put there by your clan?”
He chuckled softly. Rubbing a hand over his face, he replied, “Aye, by my brothers. They denote my heritage among my people. Are ye feeling better?”
Erina was lost in his silver blue eyes. There were times they mirrored a stormy sea, and other moments when they shimmered, reminding her of a summer sky. Reaching up with her hands, she brought his head down and kissed him lightly on the cheek. Rough whiskers grazed her lips. “Aye.” Averting his intense gaze, she made to stand. However, Rory’s strong arms were once again around her waist, aiding her movement.
“Thank ye.” Trying her best to straighten her gown, Erina finally gave up and twisted her mass of hair around to the front.
“I fear your brother will not be pleased when he takes in your appearance.” He plucked a soggy leaf from her hair.
Laughter bubbled from within her, and Erina was helpless to contain the emotion. “Nae. And I can hardly expect ye to accompany me back inside.”
Rory’s eyes widened. “He would surely have my―”
“Sweet Brigid!” she gasped, bunching her sodden gown within her hands. “What a sight I will present if the MacGregor and his daughter have arrived. I have nae wish to bring disrespect to Graham. Though I disagree with him for keeping me at Kileburn, I will honor his request to assist with his guests. And knowing my brother, ’tis best I return before he sends out all his guards.” She glanced around the bank of the river, searching for her basket and cloak.
As if reading her mind, Rory darted off along the path. He returned shortly, and she let out a sigh of relief noting he held her items. Taking her elbow, he guided her upward through the trees. “This is not the time to worry. Is there another way through the kitchens and to your chamber?”
Erina groaned. “If there is, I dinnae ken the way. This is only my second time at Kileburn.”
“Truly?”
Rory pushed aside tree limbs, and Erina ducked under. “Aye. The previous laird requested my presence on my tenth birthday. A guard had taken me from my grandmother’s cottage to the castle. I sat in the kitchens of Kileburn for hours, until summoned to my father's solar.” Erina slashed her hand through the air. “Not one soul offered me food or drink, and the same guard escorted me back to my home.”
Rory grumbled a curse. When he reached the wooden door to the gardens, he stood and blocked her from entering. “Wait for me in the kitchens. Fabricate whatever story to the servants. I will escort ye safely to your chamber.”
Erina nodded, grateful for his aid. “Ye have a plan?”
His eyes glittered with amusement. “Always.”
Chapter Nine
“Within the veins of a tree, the heartbeat of a Fae can be heard.”
~Chronicles of the Fae
As soon as the gate closed behind him, Rory waved a hand over his body and clothing magically appeared over his form. He had no time to consider the recent events with Erina as he rushed down the path to the front of the castle. Although, his thoughts battled for control, and his steps slowed. Did not he save her from the drowning river once already? When he tried to bring forth the first image of their meeting, shards of excruciating pain sliced within his mind, and Rory slammed against a tree in agony. Distorted images blurred, and he was unable to sort them out in a chronological order.
Wiping a hand over his brow, he tried to fight the shadows emerging. What the bloody hell was happening to him? He understood the timeline was vague, yet, why was he losing control? A part of his mind roamed in the present, and the other resided in shattered windows of the past.
Rory slumped to the ground. As he placed his palms upon the cool ground, his voice shook. “Help me, Mother Danu. Help your warrior.”
A breeze lifted the hair off his neck, soothing the battle within his mind and body.
“Do not fight against the inevitable. You will lose.”
His breathing calmed, and he tried to sense some clarity in the Goddess’s words. Unable to find a meaning, he slammed the door on the past. Standing, Rory settled on solving only one dilemma. Getting Erina to her chamber.
Racing down along the path, he quickly made haste through the portcullis. He bit back a curse as he spied the MacGregor’s horses and men. Darting to the left, he steadily made his way to the gardens. After ducking under an archway, he came upon the back entrance to the kitchens. Straightening, he pushed open the door and walked inside. He swept his gaze around the place, and found Erina huddled in a corner by the fire. The place was devoid of anyone else.
She stood immediately. Rushing to his side, Erina whispered, “The MacGregor laird has arrived. All the help are filling the hall with food and drink. My brother is asking for my presence.”
“Did anyone mention your appearance,” he asked looking around the place.
“Aye, Mairi. I told her I had a mishap and begged her to keep silent.”
“Can ye trust the woman?”
Erina swiped at her nose. “If she wants the requested item she has asked for, then I believe she will keep her tongue.”
Rory eyed her skeptically. “Did ye not think to ask her if there was another way out of the kitchens?”
“Do ye think me daft? Of course I did, but the woman claimed there was none.”
Wandering away from her, Rory opened his Fae senses, searching beyond the wood and stone for another passageway out of the place. Smiling, he stepped beyond the drying herbs hanging above a long table. As he moved toward a cabinet, he studied the paneling on either side. Part of the wood was darker on one side. Noting the wolf carving, his fingers traveled along the wood. Rory pressed the image and was rewarded when the panel opened.
“Ye are amazing,” whispered Erina behind him.
Musty smells, darkness, and cobwebs greeted him. “Stay here,” he ordered. Fetching a bone carcass from the butcher’s table, Rory grabbed a cloth. Wrapping the material around the bone, he touched it magically with special oils and brought it near the flames by the hearth. Fire blazed forth on the torch, and he quickly returned to Erina.
Entering the passageway, he held the torch aloft. He turned halfway, and placed a finger over her lips. “Not a word. I dinnae ken where the corridor ends. It might lead us straight into the banquet hall and your brother.”
Erina eyes widened, but she complied.
Rory reached for her hand. Moving forward slowly, he concentrated his Fae sight beyond the firelight. Shadows danced off the stone as they continued to travel through the damp passageway. Approaching a division in the corridor, he turned his head to the right. Closing his eyes, he traveled along the path within his mind. Loud voices greeted him.
As he turned toward the left, Erina
tugged on his hand. Her breath warm against his cheek as she leaned near. “How do ye ken?”
He rested his forehead against hers. Trust me.
Rory heard her gasp and regretted what he had done. What possessed him to speak within her mind? She was a human.
She narrowed her eyes in the fading light of the torch. However, they did not hold fear, only questions.
“Trust me,” he repeated out loud.
She lifted her chin. “Do I have a choice?”
Ignoring her response, Rory led them down the path on the left. The corridor twisted and turned until they came to stairs leading upward. After handing Erina the torch, he took the stairs two at a time until he came to a door. As he tried to open the latch, Rory found it would not budge. Raising his hand above the wood, he whispered words of magic and it released with the slightest touch. The door opened with an eerie screech, and Rory peered inside the room. By the grand appearance of the tapestries and furniture, he would have sworn it was Graham’s chamber. Seeing the MacIntyre emblem on a shield above the mantel, only confirmed what Rory believed.
Leaving the door open, he descended the stairs. Taking back the torch, he said, “I believe this leads to your brother’s room. Can ye manage to get to your chamber safely?”
“Aye. I am along the corridor on the right.” A frown marred her features.
“Are ye worried someone will see ye leaving his chamber?”
Nervous laughter came forth. “Nae, but my hair is a mess. I shall have to do my best to comb and braid it.” She shook her head in obvious displeasure. “If only Graham had let me return to my cottage.”
Rory hesitated, deeming it best to keep silent. But the words tumbled free from the man and this time the warrior let him speak. “Go change and I shall help ye with your hair.”
“I…’tis not proper. What if…” she sputtered, trying to form her words.
“Trust me,” he urged once again and smiled.
“Sweet Brigid,” she muttered and ascended the stairs.
Rory extinguished the torch and sealed the door magically. Erina waited for him, and he pulled her behind him. Cautiously, Rory opened the door of the chamber leading to the outside corridor. As they departed Graham’s room, he gestured for Erina to take the lead. She quickly made her way to her chamber.
