by Connie Mason
“God’s nightgown, MacKay! Think ye I dinna value my cock? Make her remove the spell before ye leave.”
“Mayhap we should kill a Campbell or two,” MacKay said slyly. Then she will remove the hex she placed on ye.”
“Aye,” Niall readily agreed. “I will order it immediately.”
“Wait!” Blair cried. This was getting out of hand. The mind was a powerful weapon. Though she had done nothing more than chant a few garbled words, Niall had truly believed she had placed a spell on him. Now she had to make him think her powers were even stronger than he’d believed.
“If you harm even one of my men, I vow you will never perform as a man again. I offer instead a compromise. I will willingly accompany MacKay if you promise to release Graeme’s clansmen the day after our departure. Only then will the spell be lifted. If you renege, you will be permanently rendered impotent. You can depend upon it.”
Blair held her breath, watching Niall closely as he pondered her words. Everything depended on his belief in her magical powers.
“Verra well, I agree. Yer men will be released the day following yer departure . . . if,” he stressed, “I can still perform as a man. I will bed a serving maid before their release to make sure all is well.”
“You willna fail, Niall, that I promise.”
“Are ye ready to travel, lass?” MacKay asked, apparently impatient now that the terms had been set.
“Aye. The sooner we reach your stronghold, the sooner I can find what you lost. I wish to return to my husband without delay.”
“Dinna ye understand the king’s edict?” Niall said. “Ye’re no longer wed to the Campbell. I am yer legal guardian and keeper of yer dowry. Since no other mon in his right mind will wed ye, I care not where ye go or what ye do after MacKay finishes with ye. Return to Graeme Campbell and become his whore, if it pleases ye.”
Grasping her arm, MacKay forced her toward the door. “Our horses are waiting in the courtyard.”
“I want to take my things with me,” Blair said, gesturing toward the basket containing her medicines and the bag of clothing sitting next to it.
“Verra well. But hurry. I wish to reach my stronghold before nightfall.”
Blair retrieved her belongings, then followed MacKay down two flights of stairs to the hall. Niall trailed close behind. No words were spoken as they proceeded out the door. A dozen MacKay guardsmen milled about in the courtyard. Her own horse had been saddled and stood waiting.
MacKay gave the order to mount and hoisted Blair into the saddle. Blair grasped the reins as the party rode off at a brisk pace.
“Dinna forget your promise!” Blair called over her shoulder to Niall.
“Dinna forget yers!” Niall shouted back.
Anxiety and no little amount of fear rode Graeme. He shouldn’t have let Blair leave. What had he been thinking? He ought to have received word of Blair’s safe arrival by now, yet all he had heard were vague warnings that seemed to come from inside his head.
Heath clapped him on the shoulder. “Ye worry overmuch, Graeme. I am sure we will hear from Aiden today.”
“If I dinna hear soon, I will ride to Gairloch. Sickness or nay, I dinna trust Niall MacArthur.”
“Methinks ye have fallen in love with the wench,” Heath said. “She has bewitched ye as surely as ye live and breathe. I never thought to see the day ye’d be mooning over a woman. Ye changed after ye returned from France. Joan the Maid’s death affected ye greatly.”
“Joan is my past, Blair is my future,” Graeme said, surprised at his willingness to reveal so much to his cousin. He was struck by the realization that it was long past time to let the memory go.
“ ’Tis true,” Heath said, “ye love the lass, dinna ye?”
“I canna. I didna want to believe in the Prophecy, but Blair made a believer of me. She claims to love me, and according to the Prophecy, if her love is returned, her powers will grow strong and prosper. If she retains her powers, I canna stop her from using them. And if she uses them, people will continue to fear her. You can see the danger in that as well as I.”
“Willing or nay, ye love her.”
Graeme shook his head, refusing to acknowledge it.
“Och, ye have always been a stubborn bastard,” Heath said when silence stretched between them.
“I can wait no longer,” Graeme announced, abruptly changing the subject. “I ride to Gairloch to claim my wife. I want a dozen men armed and ready to accompany me within the hour.”
“As ye wish,” Heath replied, hurrying off to do Graeme’s bidding.
Graeme whirled about, nearly colliding with Glenda. “Out of my way, lass.”
“I heard what Heath said to ye,” Glenda confided. “I dinna believe ye love Blair. She has bewitched ye.” She sidled close, pressing her breasts against his arm. “Let me help ye break the spell. Take me to yer bedchamber now. I know how to make ye forget ye have a wife.”
“Dinna waste your time, Glenda,” Graeme advised. “I willna break my wedding vows. One of God’s chosen taught me the meaning of faith.”
“Ye’re a fool,” Glenda spat. “Ye should have wed me, Graeme Campbell. Everyone believed we would wed when ye returned from France.”
“You were the only one who thought that, Glenda.”
Pushing past her, he continued on his way.
“Ye’ll be sorry, Graeme Campbell,” she muttered. “Ye and the witch will be verra, verra sorry.”
Armed with claymore, shield and dirk, Graeme joined his guardsmen in the courtyard. Clad in identical Campbell plaid, they wore their bonnets sporting a sprig of rowan at a cocky angle.
“We will follow where ye lead,” Heath said, riding up beside Graeme. “We have been itching for a good fight.”
“I hope it willna come to that,” Graeme said tersely. “Mayhap my fears are for naught.”
So saying, he gave the signal to mount and preceded his men through the gate. As fate would have it, Graeme came upon Blair’s escort long before he reached Gairloch. His heart in his mouth, Graeme spurred his horse to meet them. His men followed.
“Where is Blair?” Graeme shouted, reining in sharply. “What happened at Gairloch?”
“Forgive me, Graeme,” Aiden replied. “I should have expected a trick. Naught inside the keep seemed amiss when we arrived. When MacArthur’s steward offered to show us to our quarters, we followed. We had no idea we were being led straight into a trap. ’Twas a battle we couldna have won no matter how bravely we fought. We were outnumbered, and disarmed and imprisoned in the dungeon.”
“Father Lachlan deceived us,” Graeme spat.
“Nay, he joined us in the dungeon. Here he is now.”
“I plead for your forgiveness,” the priest said. “I had no part in Niall’s machinations. If I truly didna believe him near death, I wouldna have come to fetch Blair.”
Graeme’s expression turned grim. “Where—is—my—wife?” he demanded. “I know only what Niall told me,” Father Lachlan explained. “He said to give ye this.”
He handed Graeme a rolled parchment. Graeme tore it open, fear settling deep in his gut as he perused the words.
“Damn the man to hell!” Graeme shouted when he came to the end of the document.
“What is it?” Heath asked.
“MacArthur and MacKay have convinced the king to set aside my marriage to Blair. The bastards! I’ll wring their bloody necks.”
“Calm down, lad,” Father Lachlan advised. “Let us return to Stonehaven and think this through. No matter how Niall obtained this document, it appears legal.”
“Is Blair still at Gairloch?”
“Nay, MacKay took her away.”
“MacKay! Nay!” Drawing his sword, Graeme thrust it into the air. “To the MacKay stronghold!”
“Listen to reason,” Heath advised. “We will be cut down without mercy if we try to storm the keep. ’Tis near impregnable.”
“Are you suggesting I give my wife to MacKay?”
“She
is no longer yer wife,” Heath reminded him.
Graeme turned to Father Lachlan, his expression grim. “Did Blair’s brother wed her to the MacKay?”
“Not to my knowledge. I was told she went willingly with MacKay. When I questioned one of the guardsmen, he said Blair accompanied MacKay because MacArthur threatened to execute us if she refused to go with him. The fellow knew naught about a marriage.”
“What does MacKay want from her?” Graeme muttered. “Why did MacArthur want our marriage set aside?”
“I can answer the last part of yer question,” the priest replied. “MacArthur doesna want to part with Blair’s dowry. Once her marriage was dissolved, he regained control of her wealth. As for MacKay, yer guess is as good as mine.”
Graeme stood upright in the saddle, turned his face toward the MacKay stronghold and shouted, “Death to the MacKay!”
“Nay, lad, be easy,” Father Lachlan urged. “There has to be another way. Violence will gain ye naught. Only one person can give ye back what ye lost.”
“The king!” Graeme spat.
“God, not the king,” the priest replied.
“I refuse to sit back and wait for divine intervention,” Graeme said. “God helps those who help themselves.”
“The men grow anxious, Graeme,” Aiden said. “Do we ride to the MacKay stronghold or return home?”
Graeme knew what he wanted to do but realized it wasn’t the wisest choice. Blair was a resourceful lass; he had to trust her to prevent MacKay from harming her. After all, her powers couldn’t help MacKay if she were injured or dead. Then again, she might not have any powers left for MacKay to exploit.
“We’ll return to Stonehaven,” Graeme said woodenly. “Somehow, some way, I must convince the king to reinstate my marriage to Blair.”
Blair had been locked in a sparsely furnished chamber upon her arrival at MacKay’s stronghold. She had no idea what MacKay wanted from her and was impatient to find out. At least she hadn’t been starved or mistreated. That thought led to another. Had Niall released Graeme’s clansmen as he’d promised? Did he fear her magic enough to honor her request?
If Niall had kept his word, Graeme would have been told that he no longer had a wife. Would that make him happy? She sincerely hoped not. There was nothing he could do about the king’s edict. She and Graeme were no longer husband and wife and could never be so again without the king’s approval. But that wouldn’t stop her from returning to Stonehaven and becoming Graeme’s leman, if he would have her.
Blair spent an entire day and night in confinement before MacKay called to her through the door and entered her chamber. Blair rose to greet him, her chin raised in defiance.
“What is it you want from me?” she challenged.
“Lower yer chin, lass. A wee thing like ye doesna frighten me.”
“Do you not fear my magic?”
MacKay retreated a step. “Mayhap. But I warn ye, unless ye have a death wish, dinna use yer evil spells on me.”
“Tell me what you want.”
He strode to the window and looked out. “Many years ago, during my great-grandfather Connor’s time, the castle came under siege. The keep wasna as well fortified as it is now, and my ancestor feared it would fall to the enemy.”
“What has that got to do with me?” Blair asked.
“I am getting to that. During the siege, Connor hid the wealth he had accumulated through the years and told no one where he had hidden his riches. He trusted no one with the location of the hiding place, ye see. Unfortunately, Connor fell beneath his enemy’s sword. The treasure has never been found, though not for lack of searching. There isna a nook or cranny in the keep and outbuildings that hasna been searched since Connor’s death.”
“You want me to tell you where your ancestor hid the treasure,” Blair surmised.
MacKay grinned. “I knew ye were smart, lass. Locating the treasure should be an easy task for someone with yer talents. Use yer magic, lass. I care not how ye do it, just give me what I want.”
Blair shook her head. “I have no powers, no magic. I am naught but a healer.”
“Ye lie! I saw ye work yer magic on yer brother.”
“ ’Twas a farce. I lied about the spell.”
A fierce scowl contorted MacKay’s face. “I dinna believe ye! Find my treasure, witch! If ye fail, ye willna like the consequences.”
“Will you let me leave if I find your treasure?”
“Aye, ye have my word. After I have my treasure, ye can go, and good riddance to ye. My kinsmen dinna want ye here.”
Blair sighed and let his remark pass. If she had to explain one more time that she wasn’t a witch, she would go mad. “I’ll need time to find your treasure. And I must be allowed to explore the castle.”
“Do ye give yer word ye willna try to escape?”
“Aye, you have it.”
“Verra well. Yer door will be left unlocked, and ye can take meals with my kinsmen in the great hall. Heed me well, lass. Dinna try to trick me. Find my treasure in a reasonable length of time, else I will find a way to punish those ye care about. Niall swore ye had powers—now use them.”
Blair slumped down on the bed. What would MacKay do when he learned she had no powers? She had lost them when she fell in love with Graeme. The only power left to her was her intelligence. She had bought some time from MacKay and intended to use it. She would begin by searching the castle from top to bottom. If the treasure existed, she would find it.
Blair smoothed her skirts, dragged in a deep breath and left her chamber. When she reached the hall, all conversation stopped. People turned and stared at her. She felt their fear reach out and surround her. Their combined aura was dark and menacing. They did not want her here any more than she wanted to be here. She wanted to go home . . . home to Stonehaven and Graeme, even if he was no longer her husband.
Blair took a seat at one of the lower tables and helped herself to food from the tray that was being passed around. Immediately those around her rose and moved to other tables. Chagrined, Blair ignored the insult and continued eating as if nothing was wrong.
While she ate, she noticed a man with a swollen jaw. She knew immediately the poor man had an abscessed tooth and wanted to help him.
When he passed nearby, she said, “I can help you if you let me. An herb posset placed on the tooth will bring down the swelling, and a tea of the same herbs should ease the pain.”
The man recoiled in fear. “Ye’ll use none of yer witchcraft on me, mistress.” Then he turned and hurried off.
“Silly man,” Blair muttered as she finished her food. “Let him suffer.”
No one spoke to her, and everyone gave her a wide berth. Then Blair took matters into her own hands and sought out the housekeeper. Her name was Hilda, and though she didn’t flee, Blair could tell she was frightened.
“I willna hurt you, Hilda, nor any of your kinsmen. I am a healer, not a witch. While I am here, I would gladly treat any of your kinsmen who need my skills.”
“I . . . I dinna know about that, mistress,” Hilda stuttered. “MacKay said ye were a witch. He brought ye here to find the treasure his ancestor hid.”
“Do I look like a witch?”
Hilda stared at her. “Nay, ye look like an angel.”
“I canna change your mind or those of your kinsmen, but I want you to know I am not evil. The reason I sought you out is because MacKay said I could search the castle, and I would like you to show me around.”
“Duncan would be the mon to ask,” Hilda said. “He’s the laird’s steward. I will fetch him for ye.” She hurried off.
Blair realized that living among the MacKays wasn’t going to be easy. How could she possibly undo the years of damage that lies about her had wrought? She hoped she would find the treasure soon so she could return home . . . home to Graeme, if he would still have her. A vision of Glenda intimately entwined with Graeme appeared before her eyes.
Her hand flew to her mouth, stifling the cry that lodged
in her throat. Had a tiny bit of her powers returned? Had she been allowed a look into the future, or was her vision a figment of her imagination? Please, God, she prayed, let the vision be my imagination.
Hilda returned with Duncan. As luck would have it, he was the man with the swollen jaw she had offered to help.
“The MacKay said I might search the castle. I would like to start at the top and continue down to the dungeon. I want to inspect every chamber, no matter how small or insignificant.”
His face contorted with pain, Duncan gave her a sullen nod.
“Follow me, mistress.”
Blair skipped to catch up with his long stride. “Are you still in pain, Duncan?”
Duncan’s muffled response told Blair that he still suffered. If she had possessed her powers, she could have healed him with a touch. But herbal remedies would have to suffice, if Duncan would allow it.
“Will you let me look at your tooth?” Blair asked. “I dinna like to see a man in pain.”
Duncan stopped abruptly, causing Blair to run into his back. He turned to face her. “The pain is verra, verra bad, mistress. Can ye use magic to cure me?”
“I have no magic, Duncan, but I am a healer. Will you allow me to ease your pain?”
Duncan backed off, fear etching his features. Blair could tell he wanted the relief she promised, but he still believed the gossip that named her a witch.
“Do you know what a Faery Woman is?” she asked.
“Aye. According to legend, Faery Women are healers and possess powers mortals dinna ken.”
“I am a Faery Woman, Duncan. My life is dedicated to helping others. I work in mysterious ways, but I am not evil, nor have I ever harmed anyone.”
“So ye say,” Duncan snorted. “Follow me, mistress.”
“Duncan.”
He turned slowly. “Aye?”
Blair approached him gingerly. Reaching out, she touched his jaw, running her fingers along the swelling. She felt her fingers tingle, felt the rush of familiar heat up her arm, followed by a jolt of pain. Her eyes grew round. How could this be? She had lost her powers. Searching Duncan’s face, she saw no difference in Duncan’s expression. Her imagination must be working overtime. Duncan merely sent her a strange look and continued on his way.
