by Patty Taylor
“Aye, she reminded me of my first beloved . . .”
“Mo creach, Darby! Please, get on with it, man.”
“Aye, sorry, lad. I forgot your beastie isn’t a very patient sort.” He rubbed a hairy hand over his mouth, the smile disappearing from his wrinkled face. “Now as I was sayin’, the brave wee lass stood up to her. ‘Tis why she got slapped for her sassin’ the she-devil the way she did. Mind ye, ‘tis just me own opinion, but I think there’s somethin’ verra extraordinary about yer friend, especially to cause the wretched witch to fret over her the way she did.”
“Keara’s definitely not a normal woman to be reckoned with. Me own eyes have seen what she can do.” Duncan glanced down to check on her.
“Aye, the grand story of how yer friend breathed life back into the young lad today has already spread through the forests like wildfire. Remember, news travels fast through the velvet moors and over the high seas. The wee girl has already made quite a name for herself. Aye, she has at that.”
Duncan stood and paced in circles.
With a big grin on his face, Darby ran his crooked fingers through his curly, carrot-orange hair. He withdrew a pipe from his coat pocket and stuck it in his mouth. “What are ye plannin’ to do with her now?”
Duncan shrugged, running his talons through his own clump of scruffy hair. “She needs to get to safety. And the farther from me, the better.”
“Aye. But I didna’ think it will be as easy as ye think, lad. Ye’ll have to come up with a plan so she doesn’t discover yer secret.” He slid off the rock and waddled over to Keara. Pushing the crooked glasses further over his nose, he bent over the top of her head and sniffed her face. “I’m afraid the sorceress is keeping the spirited lass alive just long enough to see the beastie come out in ye.”
“I’ll send me nephew Colin to the nearest village on the morrow for fresh supplies. He can pick up a few clothes befittin’ for a woman. I canna have her walkin’ into town lookin’ the way she does. The people will certainly accuse her of bein’ a witch, for sure.” Duncan stopped pacing and rubbed his chin. He smiled, feeling confident with the plan. “I willna abandon her and the lad before I know both are safe. I must then resume my quest.”
Darby nodded and scratched the front of his chest.
“I’ll make sure Colin comes back with honey and brew.” Duncan smiled. “I shouldna have Colin go traipsin’ on his own after what happened today. He’s still in plenty of danger himself. Darby, do ye mind taggin’ along and keepin’ an eye on the lad?”
Darby frowned, and the sparkle went out of his eyes. “Ye know I dinna like to be around humans. Not during the day.”
“Ye dinna need to let anyone see ye, includin’ Colin. This will be a good test for the lad since he’s soon comin’ of age. It’d sure mean a lot to me. Besides, ye’ll be helpin’ Keara.”
He waited, watching the wry expression on Darby’s face then grinned. It was worth a try. “Ye said yerself, she reminded ye of yer beloved . . .”
“Och, verra well. Aye, I did at that. And ye don’t need to be remindin’ me of what I said,” he snapped. “I’ll help ye, Duncan. But only ‘cause the lass has spunk and I took a likin’ to her. Ye’ll need to sneak one drop of the potion in her drink each night at dusk.”
“I respect yer wisdom when it comes to yer healin’ gift with the herbs, but are ye sure this willna hurt her?” He frowned, concerned too much tonic might harm her.
“Nay, ‘twill only make her sleep like a newborn babe. She’ll wake up and be none for the worse come morn. ‘Tis an herbal remedy even much older than meself.”
“I’ll have Colin ready to head out by first light. Ye’ll be repaid for yer help. Ye’re a good friend, Darby.” He leaned over and laid his hand on the little man’s shoulder.
“Och. A bottle of spirits to warm me old bones will be payment enough, lad. Now be off with ye and take extra care against the sorceress’ treachery.” The top of Darby’s head barely reached Duncan’s knees.
Duncan bent down to shake Darby’s knobby hand. The codger smiled and pushed the tiny pipe back inside his pocket. He winked, nodded, and then he was gone.
Duncan leaned over and picked Keara’s limp body up in his arms and headed back toward the makeshift camp. His thoughts churned in turmoil, swimming through a haze of mixed feelings and desires. It was hard to remain calm with her voluptuous body so close against his.
Her face snuggled against his bare chest. She sighed. “Ye’re a mighty brave lass but a stubborn one at that. Aye, I’ll have me hands full the next couple of days ‘til I get ye someplace safe and sound.”
His words fell on sleeping, deaf ears. The leaves rustled from the cool night breeze. An owl hooted and bade him goodnight.
A while later, he laid Keara on the empty fleece. He gathered the sheepskin cover around her body and tucked the dangling thick curly fleece locks underneath her chin. He squatted next to her, mesmerized by her enchanting face silhouetted by the flickering flames. If only things were different, he might easily fall in love with this feisty young lass. He admired her bravery and her honesty with him earlier.
Colin’s snores thundered inside his keen, pointed ears. He glanced at the lad and found the bewitched cat quite content wrapped inside his arms. It had been a long day for everyone.
With the help of wee Darby, he was confident the two misfits would soon be out of further harm’s way. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t afford to play nursemaid. He had to push on with his journey to Dunscaith if he stood a chance of being cured. He glanced at the moon. With a few hours left before sunrise, there was still something important he needed to do. Taking one final glance to ensure all were safe and sound asleep, he headed back to the beckoning dark woods.
It was time to set a trap of his own.
Chapter 9
“Hear me now, witch,” Duncan screamed, watching the sky. “I’m ready to bargain if ye’re ready to talk.”
A gust of wind brushed against his chest. He braced himself. Something cold pressed against his lips. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, fighting the urge to spit.
“So, love, you’ve come to your senses after all,” a soft-spoken voice whispered in his ear.
“Is it mere fear of me or the fact that ye still dinna have the stomach to appear in front of me face after what ye’ve done to me own flesh and blood?” Duncan asked, clenching his fists at his sides.
“I suggest, if you wish to bargain, you change your attitude. I may not be as gracious next time you call,” she hissed.
“There willna be a next time if we can come to terms.” Duncan lowered his voice and clenched his teeth. “If ye promise no more harm will come to me nephew and ye willna interfere while I take the young woman to safety outside Dunscaith, I am willin’ to wed ye then.”
Laughter filled the air. “I agree, only if you hand over the talisman.”
“I dinna know of any talisman. If I had such an item, I’d have no qualms to give it to ye right now. I have no need for such foolish things.” Duncan was glad the golden amulet was hidden safely at camp. It must be very important if the sorceress wanted it. “Are ye willin’ to agree to the deal or not. I promise I willna ask again.”
“Do not take me for the fool, Duncan. I don’t believe you. My cards and crystals never lie. You’re hiding something to protect that little redheaded witch.”
“Me only wish is to repay her for savin’ young Colin’s life after ye tried to take him from this earth.” The veins in his neck grew taut, his face heated with anger. “Not many a woman would risk her own life for a stranger’s.”
“Pity. I see you’ve already fallen under her spell. She’ll cause you nothing but pain and heartache.” Invisible cold fingers raked through his hair. “When you bring me the talisman, only then will I make you my husband and break
the curse.”
“Mo creach!” Duncan swore. “Aye, I’d be a bloody damn fool to think I could trust yer wicked soul. The only promise I’ll grant is to make ye regret the day ye were born if I catch ye hurtin’ either of them again.”
Like falling leaves drifting to the ground, his threat was carried away by the wind. After stating her terms, the witch had already gone.
“I must have that talisman. It’s the key I’ve been searching for that will take me to realms beyond this time.” The heavy door slammed shut behind her as Gabrielle threw her cloak on the back of the wooden chair. “Damn that redheaded witch. And damn Duncan and the rest of the clan. Does he really think I am stupid enough to believe his lies?”
Gabrielle rushed to her favorite trunk she used for an altar and knelt. She swiped her arm across the top, sending black candles and shimmering gems crashing to the floor, before raising the latch and pushing the lid open. She laughed, lifting a worn leather book from the trunk and clutching it to her chest. “Griselda never thought to look in here for her precious Book of Shadows. I hid it well. Right under her nose.”
“Gabrielle. No!” An old woman hobbled toward her, holding two croaking large bullfrogs, the size of grapefruits, one in each hand. “I warned ye before, ye will pay a high price if ye consider using that book for evil. Haven’t ye caused enough trouble as it is?”
“You fool. Your words don’t threaten me. You lost your powers years ago.” Gabrielle straightened, glaring at Griselda, and pointed to the floor. “And put those bloody frogs back in their cage where they belong.”
Gabrielle glided her fingers across the cover. The warm force of magick flowed through her veins. She smiled, opened the book, and carefully sorted through the brittle pages until she found the one she sought. “I see why you hid this book. You were afraid of it, weren’t you?”
“Not of the book, Gabrielle. Only concerned this day would finally come and ye’d be tempted to use something more powerful than ye can handle.” Griselda straightened from bending over the cage and wrung her hands. Her face twisted with frustration, and her eyes filled with pain.
“I’m tired of listening to your never-ending whining, old woman. I was young, but I can still remember how much you mourned the loss of the adored twin. What a heavy burden you must’ve carried all these years, knowing you couldn’t make her better, since she was under your care.” Gabrielle rose and strolled to the shelves, picking over an assortment of potions and powders. “I wonder if you would have been as devastated if I were the one to get sick and die instead of her.”
“Gabrielle, ye should know better.” Griselda wiped tears from her wrinkled face and grabbed Gabrielle’s arm. “I beg of ye, put that book back before ‘tis too late and ye live to regret something horrible.”
“Nonsense.” Gabrielle pushed Griselda out of her way, making the woman stumble backward and fall to the floor. “The only thing I regret is not doing this sooner.”
Gabrielle ignored Griselda, sobbing on the floor, pleading with her to stop. The spell instructed her to read the words loud and clear while beads of blood from her hand dropped and soaked deeply into the worn pages.
Thunder clapped and a gust of wind blew the door wide open. Her beloved bats hanging upside-down on wide beams screeched, fluttering their wings above her head. Her knees buckled, splinters scratching her hands as she hit the floor. A black mist swirled, enveloping her body.
Gabrielle’s eyelids fluttered open. She jolted and sat upright. Any good memories she had were now dead, a thing of the past. This new power was her future. The high cost of the spell—selling her soul for dark sorcery—was nothing compared to what she would gain now.
Her body shook with laughter. “With the aid of black magick, the clan will soon beg for my help. Their precious Duncan will live to regret his refusal of my offer, and the talisman will soon be mine.”
Chapter 10
Keara rolled on her side and groaned. Her eyelids blinked as she rubbed the knot on the back of her head. “I hurt everywhere.”
She couldn’t remember a time when her body was in this much pain. A good, hot shower would help, but from the looks of things she was still stuck in this bizarre dream, or else someone was playing a cruel trick on her. Like Dennis, perhaps. Besides, she wouldn’t put it past him to get some of his big-shot corporate buddies to hire someone to knock her out and fly her across the globe in one of their private jets. Once she got home she’d make sure the police paid the bastard a visit.
Keara studied Duncan stroking his horse’s neck. The stallion nuzzled its muzzle against the Highlander’s chest as Duncan uttered strange words she’d never heard before. She could listen to his voice and burr for hours. He’d make an excellent storyteller. The man obviously had a unique gift with animals and she’d seen firsthand the way persnickety Samson reacted around him. Heaving the heavy sheepskin over her head, she whined privately in anguish. If she hadn’t known better, she would’ve sworn she’d had too much wine to drink the previous night.
“Keara? Are ye all right, lass?” A hand patted the thick pelt layered over her shoulder. “I let ye sleep the morn away, but ye soon need to get up and eat. ‘Twill make ye feel better.”
“I’m awake.” She groaned in protest and lifted her nose over her fingers as she tucked the fleece beneath her chin. She peered up at Duncan, his endearing dimples flashed at her.
“Good morning. You should have woken me up, I was hoping to get an early start.” She returned his charming smile and squinted at the canopy of gloomy clouds and muttered beneath her breath, “I guess there won’t be any cabs coming by this way anytime soon.”
The day was dismal and dreary. A thick mist floated over the moors in the distance. She stretched her arms above her head. The raw air didn’t help her sore joints any.
“It’s well past noon.” He lifted his head to the foggy sky. “I hope ye’re hungry. I caught a hare for our dinner that’s waitin’ to be skinned. ‘Tis still time for a quick wander to the stream to freshin’ up a bit if ye’ve a mind to.”
Sitting up, she leaned on her elbows and rested her chin in her hands. Her gaze focused on the lower hem of Duncan’s brown plaid as it brushed against his firm thighs. With each long stride, his leg muscles rippled. Her heart hammered madly against her chest as she tried to ignore the reawakened desire surging through her veins.
Samson growled, swatting at the dead hare. Distracted by the spirited frolics, she took a deep breath and yawned. Prickling pain like bee stings ran down the right side of her face. She winced. Her face held taut as her fingers traced the raised pleats of swollen welts. Memories of last night’s confrontation with the wicked voice came rushing back. She jolted upright and searched for Colin. Her heart quivered in her chest.
“Where’s Colin?” she asked, worried he might have had a setback. “Is he all right? I hope he hasn’t fallen ill.”
“Aye, the lad is fine.” Duncan’s eyebrows rose, watching her intently. “I sent him off on an errand. He’ll be back by morn.”
“You sent him off all by himself? Do you really think that’s wise after what happened yesterday?” Her tone was sharper than she’d intended. Grateful for Colin’s sheepskin vest to keep her warm, she wrapped it tighter around her chest.
“He’ll not be by himself.” A frown creased Duncan’s mouth, and a shadow of annoyance crossed his handsome face. He glanced away, avoiding her eyes as if he was hiding something. “Me good friend Darby will keep a close eye on the lad.”
An awkward silence loomed like a heavy fog closing in around them. She stood baffled, staring at him, unable to turn away. She watched him draw a sharp dagger from a pouch attached to the side of his leather boots. Without hesitating, he skinned their dinner. The name Darby sounded vaguely familiar.
His calm tone broke the tension. “I dinna’ know what a cab is.”
His nearness was becoming disturbing, but exciting at the same time. Something she wasn’t accustomed to feeling.
“A cab is . . . well, a cab is . . . it’s complicated.” She spied his horse pawing the ground and smiled. “A cab’s similar to a horse, except it’s made of metal and has an engine. Instead of feeding it hay, it gets fed a certain fuel we call gasoline.”
Duncan glanced at his steed and studied the stallion in silence. His face full of interest, he stared back at her. A muscle clenched along his left jaw as he rubbed his chin. “A horse made of metal ye say? Goliath ‘tis plenty a grand steed and ‘tis good enough for me. I dinna fathom the idea of any warrior wantin’ to wrap his legs around a cold, hard piece of metal.”
She knelt in front of him and smoothed the dirt with her hands before grabbing a stick and sketching the outline of a cab on the ground. “Here. It’s the best I can do without my sketchpad and pencils, but its close enough to give you an idea.”
