Medieval Mistletoe - One Magical Christmas Season

by Laurel O'Donnell

  “Of—” But before Ina could finish, one of her men was tugging at her sleeve and she was glaring at him as she yanked free of his touch.

  “Mistress, a fire!”

  That got the witch’s attention. Ina whipped around, even with her profile mostly turned from them, Arbella could see her mouth fall open. Only a great amount of willpower kept Arbella from smirking at Ina’s obvious shock.

  In what world did this delusional woman think she could outsmart Magnus?

  Their attention on the fire, Ina dropped the knife from Arbella’s neck and the men righted her in the saddle as they awaited directions from their mistress.

  Arbella glanced at her sister, trying to make eye contact. Aliah was staring wide-eyed at the fire.

  “Psst.” Arbella hissed at her sister, trying to get her attention and hoping the surrounding guard just ignored them.

  Aliah turned toward her, fear blanketing her entire expression. Arbella made exaggerated movements with her eyes toward the forest, hoping her sister understood her silent signal that they should try to escape. Aliah gave a curt nod. With the men’s attention on the fire, they had the best chance of any to escape now. Aliah’s hands were still tied, but once they were far enough away, Arbella could help.

  Arbella gripped tight to the reins, and though Aliah’s grip was more cumbersome, she did the same. There was every possibility they might break their necks trying to escape in the darkened forest, but it was worth it to get away from Ina—who might very well slit their throats after getting over the shock of seeing the fire.

  Arbella didn’t know what those flames meant, but she knew it couldn’t be good, and she prayed that Magnus was the one who’d set the field afire.

  Ina called out orders to two of her guards to go see what was happening, and when she did, Arbella nodded at Aliah that they should go.

  Horses whinnied from afar, and her own horse whined too at the kick she gave to his ribs to get him moving. Aliah urged her horse at the same time and they both sprung forward, startling the men on horseback enough that they were able to wedge between them. But with her captors seeing them escape, they made sure to block their path on the road back toward Dunrobin, giving Aliah and Arbella no other choice but to ride into the woods.

  So be it. They could always circle back around later. They needed to escape.

  “Hold on tight, sister,” Arbella called back, leading the way up a slight rise on the side of the road, and into the trees beyond. They were lucky with the coming winter that the trees were bare, but that also meant the forest floor was covered in a blanket of fallen leaves, hiding dangerous rabbit holes and thick protruding roots. Dangerous for anyone running, and deadly for a rider—especially one tied to their horse.

  Trying to keep the danger in mind as she maneuvered her mount through the dark forest, she still asked the horse to ride with speed. The guards were following quickly behind and she had more than a little doubt that they would soon be set upon.

  She ducked from branches, calling out to her sister to do the same. Behind them, the guards’ horses thundered into the woods, a man called out in pain—perhaps getting whipped in the face by a low-hanging branch, or having been unseated.

  Arbella sent up prayer after prayer that God and all his angels would see them back home. That he’d guide their mounts to miss every hole and root. That no low-hanging branches should suddenly loom before her. That Magnus was safe.

  Her frozen fingers were numb, and though she gripped tight to her saddle, she kept feeling her body slide from one side to the next. They’d not been dressed properly to go out into the cold night air, and with both her chill and fear snaking through her, her teeth started to clatter as fast as her rump hitting the saddle.

  Aliah groaned and cried out behind her, but a quick look behind showed her sister was still seated on her horse and riding along just as well as she.

  “Are you all right?” Arbella managed through her chattering teeth.

  “Aye! Just a wee slap in the arm.” Aliah sounded like her teeth were chattering, too.

  Thank goodness for the horse’s warmth beneath her. While the tops of her thighs had grown cold as ice, at least her inner thighs and calves were warm. She needed those to hold tight to her horse’s middle.

  Their captors gained on them. But the sounds of metal clanging and the bellows of men fighting confused her for a moment until she realized what she was hearing.

  It had to be Magnus. Blane. They’d found them.

  “Let me untie you and then we’ll find a place to hide,” Arbella said.

  She had every confidence her husband would be able to win this fight, but on the off chance he didn’t, she did not want to be left out in the open… She did not want to think about it either. Aliah’s ties had loosened a little and Arbella made quick work of getting them undone.

  Her sister stretched her hands and wrists. “Do you think its…?”

  “Aye.”

  “Should we try to help?”

  Arbella was torn between wanting to vanquish anyone who would dare raise their sword to her husband and knowing she had no place doing so. “We hide. The best thing we can do is stay out of their way. When they finish, they’ll come find us.” Pray find us.

  Aliah mutely followed, perhaps also not wanting to make the unsavory thought of failure clear.

  They rode blindly into the night, leaving the cries of pain in the shadows behind them.

  SIGNS of the enemy were evident upon the rise just overlooking the castle from the north. A dozen or more horses had trampled down the grass, but there the evidence ended. They’d heard the sounds of battle before arriving, but it was as if they’d encountered a bunch of ghosts. The enemy had disappeared on a gust of wintry wind. No sounds from them in any direction. The woods were oddly silent, keeping captive all knowledge they had about what transpired here and who had passed where.

  “Arbella!” Magnus bellowed. He didn’t expect her to call back to him, but he wanted her to know that he was there. That he’d come for her.

  He also wanted his enemy to know that there was no stopping him. That they could not escape, nor think to steal away his bride. Who had been fighting? Was it too far-fetched to hope that the Ross warriors broke out in a fight amongst themselves?

  Damn Ina and her vicious streak. Her need for vengeance. Her inability to let go of long-fostered hurts against her ego. Damn her for not holding up her end of the treaty. Damn her father for having raised her to harbor ill will toward others—well, the man was most likely already in hell. Damn her for taking his wife!

  And where the hell was Marmaduke? Magnus and his men had swept the field. Turned over a dozen bodies and not found the sly Sassenach. Marmaduke had no doubt been swept up by one of the Ross warriors and they’d yet to find him. He’d probably already been placed back into his devious wife’s arms. Magnus frowned. Very faintly in the light of the rising sun, he could see tracks to the right of the path. A pair of horse-hoof impressions. Looked hurried. He glanced to the left, then down the road. Hoof marks leading in all directions.

  Was it too much to hope that Arbella and Aliah had been able to escape Ina’s clutches?

  Magnus glanced at his brother. Blane was staring down at the prints going off to the right, and Magnus could see in his expression that his brother also held out hope.

  “We’ll find them,” Magnus said gruffly, the words were meant for his brother, but struck deep in his own heart.

  Up to this point, he’d not allowed himself to feel even half of the fear he had inside. Not even a quarter. But at that moment, everything seemed to strike him at once. Fear for his children’s lives. Fear for Arbella. Fear for himself. He was no stranger to pain and loss. Had suffered the assault of grief since childhood. Through the bare branches overhead, the sky was turning from black to purplish gray and fingers of orange were reaching through the night to light the dawn.

  Staring down at Beast’s mane, Magnus drew in a long, slow breath and then let it ou
t—pushing past every bit of fear that gripped his heart.

  The wind rustled, creaking branches and the icy winter air slid its way down inside his shirt. His skin was hot enough with rage and fear that he barely felt it, but what he did worry over was whether Arbella was properly dressed. Highland winters were harsh. There’d been more than one case of a man, woman or child freezing in the elements. She’d been stolen from the crofter’s home. Had there been time to grab her cloak? If she’d been abed, had she been able to slip into her boots? Was she now lying frozen somewhere in these woods, teeth chattering, fingers trembling, lips blue?

  A low, tortured growl left his lips. His life had been incomplete before her, but from the moment she’d stormed into his life, he’d been whole. He couldn’t imagine a world without Arbella in it. She made him who he was. Brought out the man he was meant to be.

  “We’ll find them,” Blane repeated Magnus’ words, strength emanating from every syllable.

  As though the heavens above shined down on them, a wisp of white caught Magnus’ eye. He urged Beast forward toward the branch where a silky clump of blonde hair had been snagged and torn from the bearer’s head.

  “Arbella,” he said at the same time Blane said, “Aliah.”

  “Could be either of them,” Magnus conceded.

  It was a clue. One that pushed them to venture into the woods off to the right where two lightly tramped tracks led.

  Magnus turned around to the Sutherland warriors and said, “Fan out to the north and west. We’ll take the east.” He nodded to his brother who silently agreed.

  The warriors split apart heading further into the woods on all sides. Passing through the trees, the light that had skimmed through the slim slit in the bare branches over the road dimmed. The firs still held tight to their needles all the way up toward their top branches that towered forty to fifty feet overhead. The forest, it had its own castle and network of crenellations. A living, breathing fortification. All Magnus could pray was that this forest protected his wife until he could find her, and that it would open its gates to reveal her bonny face to him once more.

  They walked their horses slowly forward, staring around tree trunks, over rocks jutting from the ground and using the tips of their swords to part brambles to see who hid in the thick depths. But there were no signs of Arbella or Aliah. No clues, save for the hoof prints in the earth where pine needles and cones and dead leaves hid them from view.

  And then there was a scream. The sound pierced through the forest, the trees parting to reveal a flash of golden hair just out of reach.

  “ARE you all right?” Arbella halted her horse and leapt to the ground where her sister lay crumpled on the forest floor. Her horse had reared back at the sight of a snake, stomped it to death, but in the process thrown Aliah several feet in the air. Thank the saints they’d untied her hands, else she would have been trampled beneath her horse’s feet.

  Aliah nodded, her eyes squeezed tight, mouth pinched at the corners. “I think so.”

  “You’ve gone quite pale,” Arbella pointed out.

  Aliah reached down toward her ankle, clutching it through her gown.

  “Let me look,” Arbella said. She directed a silent prayer to the heavens that dawn had broken, allowing her the chance to see anything at all. Crouching down, her knees sank into the cold debris strewn forest floor.

  Her sister’s eyes slowly peeled open, tears brimming. Her teeth were clenched and she nodded. Leaning close she gave her sister a gentle squeeze, hoping to show her a bit of comfort.

  Arbella slowly lifted the hem of Aliah’s gown, cringing at what she’d find, but Aliah’s boot covered her ankle.

  “I need to unlace your boot,” Arbella whispered.

  Again, her sister nodded. If possible, her face looked even paler.

  As Arbella tugged gently at the laces, Aliah whimpered. Mayhap it would be better to cut them? She reached for her eating knife but realized Ina’s men had taken it from her. Thank goodness she’d left the beautiful knife Magnus had made for her at home.

  “I’m sorry,” Arbella said.

  Aliah whimpered, but made no move to stop her from unlacing the boot.

  A moment later Arbella had the boot unlaced and loosened around her sister’s ankle. Bruising and swelling already marred her pale flesh. She reached out to touch it, feeling the sharp edge of bone through the skin. Arbella gasped, her eyes darting up to meet her sister’s gaze, but Aliah had slumped to the ground, out cold.

  “What happened?”

  At the sound of Blane’s voice, Arbella startled, falling backward, her elbow hitting hard on a stray rock. A sob escaped her at the sight of her fierce husband standing beside his brother. Magnus looked ready to tear the world apart. She rushed to stand.

  “Her horse spooked and threw her. Aliah landed on her feet, but I fear she’s broken a leg bone near her ankle.” Finished, she rushed her husband, throwing herself into his strong arms and sinking into his warmth.

  Blane hurried past them to gather his unconscious wife in his arms, softly spoken words were carried away by the swift winter wind that seemed to have picked up since they’d set out on their journey the day before.

  Magnus buried his face in Arbella’s hair, his breath tickling her skin and his arms around her taking away some of the chill of fear and the wintry air.

  “God, lass, I’ve missed ye,” he said. His voice was gruff, gravelly as though he had to force the words out. Emotion dripped from every word.

  She pressed her nose into the crook of his neck, kissed the small bit of exposed skin there. “I missed you so much. I thought—”

  Magnus slid his hand through the hair at the back of her head, massaging her scalp. “Hush, love, dinna say it.”

  Arbella bumped her head on his chin when she tried to look at him. “But—”

  “Dinna say it, not just yet,” he whispered. His warm hands captured the sides of her face and his dark green gaze met hers. “Let me kiss ye first. I’ve worried for hours whether or not I’d feel your lips on mine.”

  She could not say no to him, for she’d wanted the same thing. Wordlessly, she tilted her head and watched Magnus’ eyes dip closed as his lips descended on hers. At the sparking touch of his soft, warm mouth, her lids fell closed, shutting out the world around them. All she was aware of was her husband. Though they’d kissed a thousand times before, every time their lips touched, it felt like the first time. A flutter of butterflies swarmed her chest. Liquid heat pooled in her belly, sinking lower until the crux of her thighs twinged with the need to fall into bed.

  He was an excellent lover. Had her quivering with just a brush of his mouth on her skin, with the faintest wicked look or whisper. Even now, in the middle of the woods with their enemies surrounding them, her sister broken on the forest floor, she was feeling brazen enough to lure him behind the tree where she’d seen wild Highland mistletoe growing, and beg him to stroke her into oblivion.

  The sweep of his velvet tongue through the seam of her lips made her gasp for air. She stifled the crooning moan that tried desperately to escape from the back of her throat. Arbella gripped tight to Magnus’ shoulders, her fingers digging through the thickness of his shirt and plaid. One of his hands slid from her face down the curve of her neck, her shoulder, and then swept around her waist, tucking against the small of her back.

  “I love ye,” he murmured against her lips, nibbling gently before teasing her again with his tongue.

  “Oh, Magnus, I love you so much.”

  The annoyed clearing of Blane’s throat broke up their passionate reunion. Magnus looked over her head, but she kept her gaze ducked down, staring intently at her husband’s throat as her face filled with heat.

  “If ye dinna mind, I’d like to get my wife back to the castle,” Blane said.

  “Oh, zounds! Aliah!” Arbella whipped around to see that her sister was still unconscious. Thank heavens for that.

  “She’s not yet woken, though she’s murmured a few
things. Her body keeps her asleep to ward off the pain,” Blane said.

  He held her close, his face buried in her hair. Fate had done a wonderful thing putting the two of them together. If Arbella had to guess, she’d say they shared a love as strong as hers and Magnus’.

  Arbella sucked in a breath, her own ankle feeling phantom stirrings of pain. She needed to see her children. “Let us go.”

  Magnus stuck two fingers in his mouth, an ear-piercing whistle shocking a few pine needles from the trees.

  “The men will know we’ve found ye, but they’ll continue to sweep the area for signs of Ina and Marmaduke. And whoever else lingers here.”

  Arbella nodded. “Padrig has escaped. And I’m guessing it wasn’t you and Blane fighting with the Ross men.”

  Magnus frowned. “Aye, ’twas not. I’ve not yet learned who it was. But one thing is for certain, the truce is over.”

  THEY arrived home at dusk to a quiet castle.

  Blane called for a healer and carried Aliah up to their chamber where he would wait for her broken leg to be set. Arbella made sure that Cook sent up wine, whisky, a meal for Blane and some broth for Aliah should she awaken hungry.

  The children had already been put to bed, but that didn’t matter to Arbella and Magnus. They snuck into the nursery to give each of their beautiful babes a sweet kiss upon their foreheads, and tucked their tartan blankets more snugly around their shoulders. They looked like little angels curled up in their beds, sleeping the sleep of the innocent.

  They made their way one floor below to the master chamber where platters of warm food and wine had been set out. As soon as the door closed, she felt all her energy drain, as though she’d only been holding out long enough to make it to bed.

  Arbella sank to the fur carpet laid before the blazing hearth. Magnus dropped beside her and pulled her against him, his hand resting on her hip. She shivered and snuggled closer, gleaning from him a feeling of safety, comfort and contentment.