Medieval Mistletoe - One Magical Christmas Season

by Laurel O'Donnell

  Arbella sank against Magnus, thrilling at his touch, and wishing for the moment they were anywhere else. The room cheered, reminding Arbella of their audience and when Magnus pulled away, her face heated to scalding. She glanced down at her trencher and shoved the carrot aside. Aliah and Blane snickered beside them—and of course they did, siblings no matter the age.

  “It’s no wonder ye have so many bairns, my laird!” Davie shouted amid the hoots and hollers.

  That only made Arbella’s burning face heat even more. If only they knew she was with child again, then they’d never let her and Magnus live down that kiss.

  “Och, well, my wife is verra beautiful!” Magnus said.

  Sufficiently blushing, Arbella said, “Thank you so very much for accommodating us. This is quite delicious.” She held up her crust of bread in toast.

  “Ye are too kind, my lady,” the crofter’s wife answered.

  “Nay, indeed, this is delicious,” Magnus piped in, along with Blane and Aliah’s appreciative murmurs. Taking a sip of his ale, Magnus squinted his eyes in thought, and then turned to his crofters. “If ye would nay mind, would ye keep our visit quiet?”

  Davie looked up sharply from his stew, his mouth forming a startled O for less than a second before he gave a curt nod to Magnus. Though Magnus had not shared the reason behind their travel, it was enough to inform the man and his family that they were not going on a journey for the hell of it.

  “My laird, we did see the messengers riding swiftly through here this morn.” Davie continued to nonchalantly eat, as though he discussed the weather. His disinterest was plainly for his laird’s benefit. He inquired without inquiring.

  Magnus set down his spoon and settled his gaze on Davie. “Messengers?” He emphasized the s at the end.

  Her husband had only mentioned one. Arbella’s blood ran cold as she set down her bread to stare wide-eyed at Magnus and then at Davie. From Magnus’ reaction, he’d only believed there to be one as well.

  “Aye, there were three of them.” Davie had stopped eating, concern flashing on his face.

  A sense of dread plummeted down her belly to her feet. There was only one reason that the lines of communication would have been skewed—an ambush! An attack of some sort!

  The children!

  Arbella shoved back from her position upon the bench so hard the backs of her knees smacked into the wood causing her to fall forward, hands slapping against the table.

  “Wife,” Magnus warned.

  But she ignored him, lifting her legs over the bench and storming toward the door. As an afterthought, she turned to Davie and said, “I thank you for your kindness and your warning.” To Magnus, she said, “We’d best not tarry.”

  Magnus leapt from the table and was on her in a second, his fingers curling softly around her upper arm in warning. He whispered, “’Tis a trap, love. They would have us leave, knowing we’d figure out there was more than one. Then when we return, they hope to ambush us along the road.”

  Rage pooled in her middle. “I do not care. Our children were left behind, and I’ll not cower in this croft while they could be in danger.”

  Magnus shook his head. “They are in no danger. But safe behind the walls of Dunrobin.”

  Arbella stiffened. “Safe? We have been tricked into leaving. God’s blood, husband, but the two remaining messengers could have tricked the gate keepers into allowing them entrance.”

  Magnus again shook his head. “Not possible. I told them no one was to gain entry.”

  “They’ve thought this scheme out, they will have planned for such.” Arbella yanked her arm free and placed her hands on her hips.

  “What are ye saying?” Magnus’ brow furrowed.

  Arbella took a deep steadying breath but it did nothing to alleviate the pounding of her heart or the twist of her belly. How could her husband not see what was happening? He was the warrior after all. But warriors tended not to fight so much with trickery. She feared this was the work of a woman—a woman they’d thought to be safe from for at least a few more years. “I do not believe that Heather and Duncan are truly missing.”

  “The letter was signed by Ronan’s wife, Julianna.”

  She worried her lip, the uneasy feeling in her gut only growing. “Why would Ronan not send the letter?”

  Magnus shrugged. “Julianna is the king’s right hand.”

  “That does not matter. If Heather was truly missing, your own brother would have written you. Even told you he was on his way himself.”

  “Bloody hell,” Magnus ground out. “I let my fear for Heather blind me to the trap. Blane, gather the men.” He said not another word, but stormed out of the croft to gather his horse with Arbella on his heels.

  She stumbled in the dark, catching her feet before she fell in earnest. Only the light from the tiny croft windows lit their way. The overcast sky had not cleared and blocked the light of the moon. A mist swirled around their feet, inching closer to grip at her skirts and making it nearly impossible to see the ground.

  Magnus swung around, and she ran smack into him, amazed by his size and sturdiness. It never ceased to shock her how solid he was. And how safe she felt with him near.

  “Get back inside. I’ll have some of the men stay behind, but ye’ll be safer here than upon the road.”

  “Nay, Magnus, I cannot. I must go with you. I must see our children safe. I…” She swallowed hard guilt flooding her. She should never have insisted on going on this trip.

  Magnus gripped her shoulders, and she stared up into his shadowed face. “If they thought to trick me into leaving, then they hoped ye’d remain behind in the castle. ’Haps they were not coming for the children, love, but ye.”

  His words hit her like a falling mountain boulder, knocking the breath from her. She’d thought they were long past the time of reckoning with Ross having died years before and Ina and her vile husband having backed down. But if what she’d thought before were true…

  “Who?” she asked, her voice wavering.

  Magnus’ lips set in a firm line, he shook his head. Judging from the way he stiffened and hesitated to answer, Arbella knew he had come to the same conclusion.

  “Tell me, Magnus. Who have we to fear?”

  “Mo chreach… I dare not even think it.”

  FEAR fueled his blood.

  Magnus clenched his fists and cracked his neck. He had to go. Had to ride. Had to be sure his children were safe. Bloody hell, but how could he have missed this? The trickery was so obvious now that he looked back on it, but when he’d read that the Sassenachs had taken Heather, his blood had run cold.

  “I have to go. Now.” He cupped his wife’s cheek and pressed a fierce kiss to her lips before turning on his heel in search of his horse, Beast.

  Blane had already gathered their men and they but waited for his signal to move out.

  “Tobias, Ronald, stay behind to protect the women.”

  “Wait! Magnus, you have to tell me who.” Arbella’s eyes were wide, her lips thin and he feared she was on the brink of hysteria. And he had no time to comfort her.

  He shook his head, rushed forward to press his mouth to her cold lips and whispered, “There’s no time. But I will make certain our children are safe.” He leapt onto his horse and stared longingly at his lovely wife.

  “Ride!” he bellowed. A nagging pulled at his gut. He hated leaving Arbella behind. Hated that he couldn’t be the one to protect her, but she was safer with the crofters, hidden within their homes. Tobias and Ronald would never let anyone touch her or her sister.

  His men fanned out beside him, everyone on alert for an ambush. It’d taken them nearly five hours to arrive at the crofts and their horses had already been tired from that. This ride was grueling. Beast frothed at the mouth and a thick sheen of sweat covered his coat, but he didn’t complain, seeming to feel his master’s urgency. Thank the gods, for he would have driven the horse into the ground to get to his children in time.

  The clouds had sl
ipped back, like a curtain, revealing the moon which lit their way along the road.

  Filled with tension, Magnus gritted his teeth. A month ago, a scout had spotted an English regiment walking through the south of Sutherland. He’d met them upon the road with his own impressive warriors, only to find out that the Captain of the English regiment had come with a message from Longshanks. The bloody English king had hoped to gather allegiance from Magnus, now an earl.

  Of course, he’d denied it.

  The denial had not gone over well with the damned Sassenachs, and to prove their point, they’d raided several of the villages lining the border. But after the Sutherland warriors had fought them off, they’d not returned.

  Though it would be naïve of him to have thought the English were giving up their pursuit for his allegiance, he had thought they were putting it off. Nevertheless, he’d continued to double his scouts and inform all the villagers of the possibility of the English returning. What he’d not counted on, however, was the possibility that the Ross clan would be willing to give up their treaty in order to help the English bastards.

  God’s bones, but he’d not expected them to come for his children, for his wife.

  But why shouldn’t they? His wife was English. Stolen away from Sir Marmaduke Stewart, the English maggot who’d married their great enemy’s daughter instead. The man was likely madder than a caught wildcat at having been duped by a heathen as he called them.

  Blane rode up beside him. “English?” he asked.

  Magnus nodded grimly. “Possibly the Ross clan.”

  “What will ye do?”

  “Kill them.”

  Blane grinned, but it wasn’t filled with joy, rather knowing, and full of vengeance. They’d both had a great deal of trouble with the bloody bastards over the years—starting with the death of their parents nearly two decades before.

  “I’ll die happily in battle knowing I’ve taken English heads with me,” Blane grumbled.

  Magnus shook his head, scanning the empty road with suspicion. It was hard to see much in the dim light of night. “I pray I’m wrong. That the extra messengers were sent on to another holding. That I’ve just let my wife’s imagination and my fears run wild.”

  He knew how unlikely that was even when he said it. His enemies were always lying in wait. Even the treaty that they had with the Ross clan was temporary, with an expiration date he’d only been able to pray they kept. If those bastards touched one hair on his children’s heads…

  Thunder cracked overhead, and a streak of lightning illuminated the road in vibrant streaks. Shadows bounced everywhere, each with its own demon head.

  Thank the Lord above that Beast was used to his master running him hard and fast and often. Warhorses weren’t bred for long distance running, and he’d have to spoil the animal with apples and carrots once they reached Dunrobin. That is—if they made it at all.

  Och, but he couldn’t think that way. They’d make it. They had to.

  As they rode past a bolder as big as a croft jutting from the side of the road, Beast’s ears pricked and so did Magnus’. He flicked his hand at his brother, and the both of them stopped for a moment to listen.

  “Ye think the bastards are around the bend?” Magnus asked.

  Blane frowned. “Could be.” He cocked his head.

  Magnus wouldn’t put it past his enemies to lie in wait. Hell, he’d believe the very worst of them without question. Knowing that, he pulled his claymore from the scabbard at his back and Blane did the same. Fear of what may lie ahead would not keep them from moving forward. They had to reach the castle.

  With a nod toward his brother, Magnus urged Beast headlong into the unknown.

  ARBELLA stood out in the chilly night, staring into the distance from which her husband had just disappeared. The shapes of their backs and their horses had long since evaporated into the night mist. She rubbed her arms, warding off the chill that had settled in her bones, certain that not even a fire could warm her now. The only thing to take away the cold dread was to find out that everyone she knew and loved was safe. That their enemy had not decided to go back on their treaty.

  The hair on the back of her nape stood on end and an icy chill ran up her spine.

  ’Twas as if her body had already decided that their enemies were after them, that everything was out of her control, and all she could do was settle in to wait. She hated it. Hated that her enemies had the power to make her blood run cold with fear.

  “Let’s go back inside.” Aliah stood beside Arbella shivering and staring up at the sky and then all around them as if she, too, could feel the very air starting to cave into them.

  Arbella nodded. When they turned back toward the croft Tobias and Ronald looked relieved. They’d probably been whispering back and forth about how they would get the two lassies inside. Mayhap even taking bets on who had to play the tough warrior. If she weren’t so scared, she might have laughed at the hell she’d given these men over the last several years. Though she was only slightly surprised when they didn’t argue with their laird about staying behind to play her nursemaid. The men had pledged their allegiance to her and took their duties extremely seriously. She had them to thank on more than one occasion for seeing to it that she was still alive.

  “Let us get ye warm, my lady,” Tobias said with a tremulous grin. From the way he eyed her, she could tell he expected her to change her mind. To try and run after her husband, or formulate some other plan he would not want to go along with.

  This time she did let a small smile curl her lips.

  She supposed she ought to take it easy on the men tonight. They would already be worried enough as it was over their laird and the heirs to the Sutherland seat—her babies. No need to worry them further over her antics. Besides, the new babe growing inside her was leaching away all her strength. She was suddenly exhausted. Overwhelmed, numb.

  The warmth of the croft did nothing to take away the chill from deep in her bones, but she smiled warmly at those inside, not wanting them to see the fear she had of the unknown. Dear God, let Magnus make it safely back to Dunrobin. Let the enemy not be at our gates, and our children be safely snuggled inside their beds. Pray let Aliah and myself sleep well this night, and give us the strength to brave the unknown on the morrow.

  Aliah thrust a cup into her hands. “Warm cider,” she murmured.

  Arbella took a sip, and sat down on the cushioned wooden chair by the hearth the crofter’s wife indicated for her to take.

  “Our thanks for your hospitality,” Aliah said.

  “And your loyalty to your laird and his family,” Arbella added, reminding the crofters exactly why they had strangers taking up residence in their home.

  Not that it appeared she needed to as Davie and his wife were stepping all over themselves to help.

  “We are humbly at your service, my lady. My family has lived and prospered on Sutherland lands for many generations,” Davie said.

  “And believe me when I say your laird considers you to be a part of his family. He would do anything to protect you.”

  “Just as we would for ye, my lady,” Davie said.

  “Aye, as would all in our village,” his wife said.

  Arbella smiled. “Your devotion is merrily noted. I shall see that something special is sent to you when we return.”

  Davie’s wife beamed, her face reddening at the attention. Arbella wanted to embrace her. Wanted to hug the woman tight and tell her to keep an eye on her own children, to wrap up their warm little bodies in her arms and never let go. Tears prickled her eyes and she cleared her throat, not wanting to let the sobs that threatened escape.

  Tobias stepped forward. “Mistresses, might ye want to get your rest now? Afore we prepare to take our leave in the morning.”

  “Leave?” Arbella was suddenly alarmed. What plans did Tobias and Ronald know of that she didn’t? What had Magnus instructed? She had visions of her husband sending her and Aliah to some distant ally—not that he’d ever don
e such a thing before. Saints above, why was she having such thoughts? It had to be the babe. She always felt a little out of sorts when with child, add that to the stress of the day and the fear for her family and she was a ripe boiling pot for bad thoughts.

  “Aye.”

  She straightened in her chair, muscles tightening. “But Tobias, his lairdship said to remain until he returned.”

  “Aye,” Tobias said, looking at her curiously.

  “I do not understand your meaning.”

  “Well, ’tis sure we are that he’ll return in the morn.” Tobias shrugged as if it was common knowledge, and he had little doubt that his laird would return with the dawn.

  Arbella glanced at her sister who had raised a brow. Tobias was a seasoned warrior. He wouldn’t be so nonchalant. So uncaring about their enemy’s trickery. There was something else. Something she was missing. Either the man thought she was daft, or he didn’t believe there was a threat. Or perhaps there was a third option—that he suspected a traitor in their midst and was hoping to trick them?

  The chill in her deepened, and all the hair along her arms stood on end. Thank goodness the sleeves of her gown covered the reaction.

  Pressing her lips together she gave a swift nod. “Might my sister and I prepare for bed, then?” she asked Davie’s wife who nodded emphatically.

  “This way, mistresses. Ye’ll have our bed this night.”

  “Oh, no, we couldn’t possibly push you from your beds. We are more than happy to sleep on the floor,” Arbella stressed.

  “Aye, we’ve slept on worse things before,” Aliah said with a little laugh.

  “I dinna doubt it, but there will be no way it was said that Mrs. Davie didn’t provide the lady of the castle with a bed, and instead made her sleep on the floor.” She shook her head and tsked against her teeth. “Nay, indeed.”

  “If you insist,” Arbella offered, standing and handing Tobias her cup, only half-finished. “Rest well, Tobias and Ronald.”