by Connie Mason
He sent her an inscrutable look. “Even if I must delay my leaving by a day or two, make no mistake, I will leave.”
“I am sorry your kinsmen fear me,” Blair said. “I wouldna be surprised if MacKay and Niall are still spreading rumors about me.”
“Aye, ’tis true enough,” Graeme agreed. “Sit down and break your fast while I try to placate the delegation from the village. We canna afford to let this get out of hand.”
“Did ye speak with her?” Gunna asked when Graeme joined them. “Did ye tell her to make the rain stop?”
Graeme might have blamed Blair for many things, but bringing down torrents of rain wasn’t one of them. No mortal was capable of summoning the forces of nature.
“My wife didna bring on the rain, nor can she stop it,” Graeme insisted. “Go home and tell your families they have naught to fear from Blair.”
“She should have burned in the fire,” Gunna muttered.
“What did you say?” Graeme demanded.
“ ’Tis true. ’Tis common knowledge someone set fire to the stillroom with yer wife inside. Give her to the MacKay if he will still have her. There was a legal betrothal between them.”
“Where did you hear that?” Graeme asked. Was naught that went on in the keep private?
“Be quiet, Gunna,” the leader warned. “Ye dinna want to anger the laird.”
“Och, sometimes my mouth runs away with me,” Gunna said.
“We’d best be getting back to our families,” the leader cut in. “If the loch rises any more, we will be forced to move to higher ground.”
If the loch rises any higher, it will wash out the bridge, Graeme thought. And if the storm continues to rage unabated, not even a boat will be safe in the turbulent water; which would mean I cannot leave Stonehaven.
Graeme cast a speculative glance at Blair. Was she or wasn’t she responsible for the drenching rain that was creating such havoc? She hadn’t wanted him to leave Stonehaven, had begged him to ignore the king’s summons. Had she brought the rains to prevent him from leaving? Nay, he refused to accept it. If he believed such a thing, his perception of Blair would change forever.
Graeme’s thoughts were interrupted when Aiden entered the hall, soaked to the skin, his trews clinging to rock-hard thighs and his hair plastered to his head. “Graeme! I just came from the valley. ’Tis bad, mon. Verra bad.”
“For God’s sake, spit it out!”
“The valley is flooding. The livestock must be moved to high ground right away.”
Graeme spit out a curse. It would take several days to drive the livestock into the hills. His kinsmen and their livelihood came first; the king would have to understand why he had absented himself from the meeting.
Men scrambled for their rain gear after Graeme’s tersely issued orders. Graeme paused a moment to speak with Blair before he followed them out into the raging storm.
“You may have your wish, after all, wife,” he growled. “If I find you had a hand in this, naught will save you from my wrath.”
The rain continued. Men straggled back to the keep a few at a time to rest, then went back out into the turbulent weather. Blair heard that the water hadn’t yet reached the village and was glad. She hadn’t intended to cause upheaval in the village or among Graeme’s kinsmen.
Graeme did not return to the keep for four days. When he staggered in, his eyes were deeply shadowed and his skin was sallow and wrinkled from constant exposure to water. His plaid was sodden and his trews were plastered to his skin. He all but collapsed onto the nearest bench, resting his head in his hands. Graeme did not wear defeat well.
Blair rushed to attend him. She took his plaid and spread it to dry before the hearth. “You must eat and rest. Why didna you return to the keep like the others?”
“No time,” he growled.
She attempted to brush a strand of wet hair from his eyes, but he grasped her wrist and flung it away. “Dinna touch me! Leave me be.”
“What is it?”
He looked up; his anger was so fierce that Blair flinched, retreating beneath his fury. “Dinna lie, Blair. ’Twas you! You didna want me to go to Inverness so you brought this affliction down on us. You summoned evil spirits to destroy me and all I hold dear.”
“Nay! I meant no harm to you or your kinsmen.”
“Did you not? Even as we speak, water is rising to the cotters’ doorsteps. I told them to come to the keep if the loch rises any higher.”
“I’m sorry,” Blair whispered. She hadn’t thought beyond saving Graeme’s life.
“You got your wish,” Graeme charged. “There is no way I can go to Inverness now. The bridges have washed away, the boats are smashed to smithereens, and the loch is too dangerous to negotiate until the raging water subsides.”
“I couldna let you go to your death,” Blair whispered.
He squeezed her wrist, his expression cold, his eyes blazing with pure malice. He was so angry, Blair feared he would strike her. She flinched and tried to pull away.
“I didna want to believe it of you, Blair, but I can no longer deny the fact that you possess supernatural powers. I know now that you are capable of evil.”
“I am guilty of naught but trying to keep you alive,” Blair cried.
The cold, dead calm in his eyes frightened her. If he’d once had tender feelings for her, they no longer existed.
“Your heedless action brought disaster and suffering. Get out of my sight!”
She reached out to him. He pushed her away. “Dinna touch me. Go away. I dinna want you near me.”
Blair nearly doubled over in pain. Nothing had ever hurt as much as Graeme’s cruel dismissal. She backed away, then turned and fled down the stairs to the stillroom. She had to try to undo what she had wrought. She couldn’t bear the weight of Graeme’s hatred.
Graeme was literally shaking with rage. From the beginning he had defended Blair against her enemies. Though it hadn’t taken him long to realize she did indeed possess certain powers, he’d been convinced there was no evil in her. But this . . . she had all but admitted she had used witchcraft to bring the storm that had caused such havoc among his people.
Graeme recalled Blair’s warning but still refused to believe his life was in danger. What could happen to him in Inverness? He’d been there many times in the past.
Graeme groaned when he saw Glenda approaching with a tray of food. He wasn’t in the mood for idle talk.
“Ye should eat,” Glenda said, setting a bowl of steaming cock-a-leekie soup before him.
“Thank you,” Graeme muttered with as much civility as he could muster. He was hungry as well as wet and exhausted and disillusioned. Never had he been as disappointed in another human being as he was with Blair.
Glenda returned with a blanket and spread it over Graeme’s shoulders. “Ye mustna catch a chill, Graeme.” She hovered over him, then said, “I heard what ye said to Blair. I warned ye about her. Yer wife is a witch.”
“Leave off, Glenda.”
Glenda was not to be denied. “What do ye intend to do with her?”
“I dinna know. Can I please eat in peace?”
“Aye, laird. I will be waiting when ye’re ready for me. Ye have but to ask.”
Graeme stopped listening to Glenda long before she ceased talking. Blair’s betrayal curled around his heart. How could she have done this to him? When he finished his soup, he crossed his arms on the table, lowered his head and fell instantly asleep.
Sobbing as if her heart would break, Blair entered the stillroom. To her utter horror, she felt that her powers had weakened since Graeme had rejected her. Could she be in love with Graeme? After seeing his eyes fill with contempt for her, she knew he would never return her love. According to the Prophecy, her powers would be stripped from her.
Blair gathered the candles, placed them in a circle and sprinkled herbs around the perimeter. Then she stepped inside the circle and began the ritual she knew by heart. When the candles flared into various colors,
Blair lifted her arms and chanted:
“Spirits of nature, hear me.
Send the water back to the sea.
Bring out the sun,
Let the rains be done.”
Suddenly a bright light formed before her eyes. It was so dazzling, it almost hurt to look at it. At the center of the light was an ethereal being. She blinked, aware that she was standing in a beam of sunshine so brilliant she could no longer look into its center. The storm clouds had rolled away, and the sun was shining once more. Her powers were still with her, though she sensed that this summoning had drained what was left of them.
The emotional drain was suddenly too much. With a soft sigh she fell into a faint. From the void came a voice.
“Do not despair. Your destinies are linked. Some things are meant to be.”
Alyce found Blair lying in a circle of spent candles a short time later. Unable to awaken her, she flew up the stairs to summon help. She found Graeme bent over a table deeply asleep, his head resting on his crossed arms. Reluctant to wake him, she saw Aiden enter the hall and begged his help.
“What happened to the wee lass?” Aiden asked as he hurried after Alyce.
“I dinna know. Can ye carry her up to her bedchamber? The laird was so weary, I didna want to wake him.”
Aiden bent to pick up Blair. “What are these candles? Why is she lying on herbs?”
“ ’Tis nae the time for questions, mon,” Alyce replied. “I must see to my lady.”
Blair’s pale face must have convinced Aiden to make haste for he scooped her into his arms and carried her up the stairs. As they passed through the hall, Graeme stirred and opened his eyes.
“Why is my wife in your arms?” he asked as Aiden brushed past him.
“Blair is ill,” Alyce answered. “I didna want to wake ye and asked Aiden to carry Blair to her bedchamber.”
“Give her to me,” Graeme said, rising and stretching out his arms. Aiden obeyed without argument, placing Blair’s limp form into Graeme’s arms.
Graeme took the stairs two at a time, silently counting the reasons why he shouldn’t worry about his wife after the disaster she had created.
“Carry her to her bed, my laird,” Alyce ordered. “I will take care of her.”
“Does she do this often?” Graeme asked as he carefully lowered his wife to the bed.
“Nay, but she does seem to be doing it more often of late.” Alyce sent Graeme a probing look. “I wonder . . .”
“What do you . . .” The breath caught in Graeme’s throat, and he rushed to the window. “The sun is shining! The rain has stopped! Thank God.”
“Thank Blair, more likely,” Alyce muttered beneath her breath.
“Take care of her,” Graeme said as he turned away from the window. “Tell her she will no longer have access to the stillroom.”
“What are ye saying?”
“I know Blair cast a spell to bring the rains and I dinna trust her. I warned her many times about using magic, but she didna heed me. Right now, I canna stand the sight of her.” So saying, he whirled and stomped off.
“Blair, lass, what have ye done?” Alyce lamented.
Blair opened her eyes and touched Alyce’s cheek. “Dinna fret, Alyce. I knew what I was getting myself into, but I couldna let that stop me. Graeme’s life means everything to me.”
“Ye love him, lass,” Alyce observed.
“Aye, I admit it, but loving Graeme means the loss of my powers. He hates me, Alyce. Stopping the rain required what was left of my powers. I am now like any other woman. I am no longer a Faery Woman.”
“Ye dinna know that, lass.”
“Aye, I do. I feel . . . different somehow. I am light-headed and my stomach is churning. I’ve never felt like this before.” Acute distress left her pale.
“What will Graeme do to me?”
“Laird Graeme is an honorable mon. He made a promise to yer da and ’tis unlikely he will forget it.”
“How am I to exist? I am a pariah among Graeme’s people. My own husband thinks I am a witch.”
“Dinna fash yerself, lass. Things have a way of working out.”
“Not this time, Alyce. I know Graeme would never hurt me, but I canna bear his animosity.” Suddenly she lurched up in bed, her face turning a sickly shade of green. “Oh, my, I think I’m going to be ill.”
Alyce held the basin while Blair lost the meager contents of her stomach. Afterward, she rinsed out her mouth and fell back against the pillow. She turned her face to the wall, silent tears streaming down her face. She didn’t hear Alyce tiptoe from the chamber.
Graeme and his kinsmen were celebrating the return of sunshine and cloudless skies when Alyce marched up to him and demanded his attention.
None too pleased by the intrusion, Graeme grudgingly agreed to speak with her. He walked to where they couldn’t be heard and turned to confront her.
“What is it? Is this about Blair? If it is, I dinna want to hear it. I am finished with her.”
“Mayhap ye are finished with her, but what about the bairn she carries?”
The veins in Graeme’s neck bulged. “You lie! You and Blair have cooked this up to make things easier for her.”
“I know the signs,” Alyce persisted.
“Dinna talk to me of signs, woman! I want naught to do with Blair or the bairn she may or may not carry. One witch in the household is enough. Mayhap I should send her back to Gairloch and let her brother deal with her.”
“Foolish mon,” Alyce chided. “If ye hurt my lass, ye will be sorry.”
“Are you threatening me, Alyce?”
Alyce glared at him. “Nay, ’tis not I who will punish ye.” She stormed off in an angry flurry of skirts.
Graeme stared after her, his head spinning. He didn’t for one minute believe Blair was carrying his child. What he did believe was that neither Alyce nor Blair was above lying to manipulate him.
Chapter Thirteen
Blair kept to herself during the following days. She had no intimate contact with Graeme and missed him dreadfully. It was as if she didn’t exist. He rarely looked at her and never spoke directly to her. She had indeed become an outcast. Everyone suspected she had caused the storm, but no one could be sure. As a result, Graeme’s kinsmen walked circles around her, going out of their way to avoid her.
Work had begun on a new bridge, keeping Graeme occupied each day until darkness settled over the land. During the evening meal Graeme avoided her like the plague, preferring to sit with his kinsmen at one of the low tables. Even more disturbing was the knowledge that Glenda had grown bolder in her pursuit of Graeme. She hovered over him constantly, ready to fulfill his every need. Blair had little doubt that one of those needs was sexual.
Though Blair rarely ventured far from the keep after the floodwaters had begun to recede, she was eager to see how work was progressing on the new bridge. Since no one seemed to monitor her comings and goings, Blair felt free to do as she pleased.
One sunny day she and Alyce walked outside to enjoy the sunshine. Blair lifted her face to the welcome heat and let it soak through her. Since she had summoned the spirits of nature to help her, she felt cold all the time. She felt utterly lost, as if an important part of herself were missing. She didn’t need a vision to tell her it was Graeme she was missing from her life.
“Where do ye wish to go, lass?” Alyce asked. “I wouldna advise ye to venture far abroad. Ye know how superstitious Graeme’s kinsmen are about ye.”
“I know, but I’d like to see how far the bridge is from completion. We can watch from further upstream, where we won’t be seen.”
They skirted the village and walked past rowan trees leafed out in brilliant green. Blair smiled when she heard the distant croaking of ptarmigan and clapped in delight when she counted several blue heron on a nearby cairn. Some fifteen minutes later they reached a crag overlooking Loch Torridon, an arm of the sea thrusting inland.
“The level of the loch isna back to normal,” Blair observ
ed. “I am grateful the village escaped the worst of the flood. Did the crops survive?”
“There was some loss, but several days of sunshine have done a great deal to reverse the worst of the damage. ’Tis likely the crops will survive, except in the fields that were completely flooded. There was no loss of livestock.”
Blair sighed. “I didna mean to hurt anyone, I thought only of saving Graeme’s life. I knew there would be consequences, but I didna let myself think of them.”
“Look,” Alyce said, pointing downstream. “Ye can see men at work on the bridge.”
Blair easily picked Graeme out from among the group of men. All were bare from the waist up and wearing trews that had been cut off above the knee for easy movement in the water. Graeme’s impressive physique stood out among the dozen or so hearty Scotsmen.
“The bridge seems to be progressing well.”
“Look, there’s Stuart,” Alyce pointed out. “He’s verra bonny for a mon his age.”
Blair’s attention was so intent upon Graeme, she didn’t hear the sound of approaching footsteps. Neither did Alyce, who was a little hard of hearing.
“There she be!” a woman shrieked. “Did I not tell ye she was planning mischief? ’Tis fortunate I saw her whilst I was gathering herbs outside the village.”
Blair whirled, unpleasantly surprised to see Gunna leading a congregation of women and men from the village. “I dinna want any trouble,” Blair said. “I mean no harm.”
“Ye asked for trouble when ye called upon evil spirits to bring devastation to the Campbells.”
As if to reinforce Gunna’s words, a crow flew over Blair’s head, cawing loudly.
“Look!” Gunna cried. “She brought her familiar!”
“Nay, ’tisna true!” Blair denied.
“She lies,” Glenda said, stepping from behind the stocky midwife. “I heard Laird Graeme accuse her of using witchcraft. She didna deny it. He banished her from his life.”
“Mayhap she should prove herself,” Gunna said, crowding Blair closer to the edge of the crag. “I’ve heard that witches float. Let her prove she’s nae a witch. If she drowns, we’ll know she is innocent.”
