Beyond the Highland Myst

by Highlander 01-08

  "Is it Lisa?" Duncan asked swiftly. "What happened? I thought the two of you were… growing closer."

  "I gave her the flask," Circenn grunted, barely intelligible.

  "You what?" Galan roared, leaping from the chair. "You made her like you?"

  "Nay." Circenn waved an impatient hand. "I would never do that. I merely gave it to her so she could see for herself it would not return her to her home." He paused, then raised his eyes from the floor. "I found out why she wants to return so badly," he said. Then, haltingly, he told him what Lisa had confided.

  "Och, Christ," Duncan said when he was finished. "This is a fankle. Can you not return her? It is her mother." Galan murmured his agreement.

  Circenn shrugged and spread his hands in a helpless gesture. "I doona know how. The only creature who knows how is Adam—"

  "And Adam would kill her," Duncan finished bitterly.

  "Aye."

  Duncan shook his head. "I never knew. She told me that a woman was depending on her, but she wouldn't tell me more."

  "She told you that?" Circenn snapped.

  "Aye."

  Circenn's lips twitched bitterly. "Well, here I have been offering to be her husband and she didn't tell me that much."

  "Did you ever ask?" Galan asked softly.

  Circenn muttered a curse, uncapped the wine, and started to drink.

  * * *

  CHAPTER 19

  armand gritted his teeth and permitted james Comyn to vent his anger, assuring himself that soon the tables would be turned, and then he would revel in crushing the traitorous Scot. He understood the Comyn's motivations well. Ten years ago, when Robert the Bruce had slain Red John Comyn in Greyfriars Kirk at Dumfries, thereby eliminating the only other real contender for the Scottish crown, the remainder of the Comyn clan had eagerly allied themselves with the English. They were avid to murder any relative of the Bruce they could get their hands on.

  "It has been weeks, Berard! And you bring me nothing. No woman, no sacred hallows."

  Armand shrugged. "I have done all I can. The woman has not left her chambers in weeks. She stays holed up there, although I cannot fathom why."

  "Then go in and get her," Comyn spat. "The war grows fiercer, and the Bruce's brother Edward has made a foolish wager."

  "What say you?" Armand had heard nothing of this.

  "Only last night he made a wager that may win or lose this war. King Edward is most displeased."

  "What wager?" Armand pressed.

  "It is not my place to speak of it. Even the Bruce hasn't received word of it yet, and he will be furious when he hears what his brother has done. It is imperative that we capture the woman. At least then we will have something to appease his temper. You must get her," Comyn ordered.

  "There are guards outside her chambers day and night, James. I must wait until she comes out." He raised a hand as the Comyn started to argue. "She will have to come out soon." And while he waited, he would continue to search the castle for the sacred hallows. Thus far he'd managed to search only the north wing; somehow, he had to get into both the laird's and the lady's chambers.

  "A fortnight, Berard. Any longer and I cannot assure you I will be able to prevent King Edward from ordering his men to attack."

  "It will be done before a fortnight is up."

  * * *

  Lisa rolled over, stretching gingerly. She knew that she would have to leave her bed eventually but hadn't been able to face it. She sat up slowly, surprised to discover that the painful knot in her chest seemed to have loosened. She glanced around her room as if seeing it for the first time.

  She'd been sleeping more than sixteen hours a day and wondered if perhaps the past five years had finally claimed their price. She'd slept and grieved for everything—not just her mother, but the car accident, her father's death, and the loss of her childhood. She hadn't let herself feel any of that for five years, and when she'd finally permitted a tiny sliver of pain, all of it had come crashing in and she'd lost herself for a time. She hadn't realized how much buried anger she held. She suspected that only a bit of it had been released.

  But now she had to face the facts: The flask would not return her, Circenn could not curse her back, and this was going to be her life—for the rest of her life.

  She rose from the bed, rubbing her neck to ease the kinks. She had no idea how long it had been since she'd bathed. Disgusted with her protracted inertia, she moved to the door. While closeted in her room, she'd been dimly aware that men were posted outside in the corridor. She'd never spoken to them, had merely accepted the food they handed in through the door and picked at it listlessly.

  She fumbled with the handle and pulled the door open.

  Circenn crashed in and hit the floor. He rolled smoothly onto his back and sprang to his feet, hand on his sword, looking dazed. She realized he must have been sitting on the floor, leaning back against it, and when she'd opened it she'd taken him by surprise. He blinked several times, as if he'd fallen asleep in that position and been awakened abruptly. She was startled and touched: Had he been outside her room all this time?

  He gazed down at her and they regarded each other silently. There were dark circles under his dark eyes, his face was lined with fatigue and worry, and the look he gave her was so tender and self-effacing that it made her catch her breath.

  "A bath," she said softly. "Might I have a bath?"

  His smile was slow to form, but dazzling when it did. "Absolutely, lass. Wait right here. Doona move. I'll see to the preparation myself." He rushed out to fulfill her request.

  * * *

  "She wants a bath," Circenn bellowed, barreling into the Greathall. He'd been waiting weeks for some spark of life. That she was aware of her body again meant she was slowly retreating from the dark place within, where she'd languished so long. He roared for the maids, who came at a run.

  "Have hot water drawn immediately. And a meal. Send her all the tempting food you can find. And wine. Clothing! She must have clean clothing as well. See to my lady. She wants a bath!"

  He smiled. By Dagda, the day was looking brighter already.

  * * *

  The last person Lisa would have imagined might slip into her chambers while she was bathing was Eirren. She'd indulged in a two-second fantasy that Circenn might come in uninvited, with seduction on his mind, but had quickly squashed that thought, obviously a leftover from the historical romances she'd devoured in lieu of a social life. Things like that didn't really happen. What really happened was that small, mischievous children invaded. "What are you doing in here, Eirren?" She swished her hands in the water, trying to whisk up more bubbles to cover her breasts. When that failed, she placed her wash cloth atop them.

  The rascal grinned broadly, waggling his brows in a comically lecherous expression.

  "I didn't even hear you open the door." She sank lower in the tub.

  "Ye were too engrossed in yer bath, lassie. I even knocked," he lied. He moved swiftly to the hearth near Lisa.

  "I hardly think this is appropriate," she said. Then she regarded him thoughtfully. "On second thought, it's perfectly appropriate. You may use my bath when I'm done, and we'll finally get you clean."

  Eirren grinned puckishly. "In order to do that, ye'll have to be gettin' out. For my first look at a naked lass, I'd even consent to washin' meself. For a look at ye, I'd wash twice. Behind me ears, even."

  His grin faded as he took a seat on the stone base of the hearth. "Are ye feelin' better, lassie? Ye've been in here a long time. I couldna help but hear grim gossip."

  Lisa was touched. "You were worried about me, weren't you? That's why you came today."

  "Aye, I was," Eirren muttered. "And I dinna like it a bit. I overheard the men sayin' ye really are from another time and ye discovered ye can never return." He looked at her questioningly.

  "That is so," Lisa said sadly.

  "Will ye be givin' up on life, lassie?"

  Lisa glanced at him sharply. "Sometimes you seem far
older than thirteen, Eirren."

  He shrugged his bony shoulders. " 'Tis the way of this world. Children doona stay children long. We see too much."

  Lisa felt a flash of longing to shield his eyes, to ensure he never again glimpsed anything a child shouldn't see. Then she caught him trying to peek beneath the water line. "Stop that!" She splashed water at him.

  He laughed and wiped his face gamely. " 'Tis natural. I'm a lad. But I'll be lookin' out yon window if it makes ye feel better."

  She smiled, watching him lift his chin and turn his face toward the window, making quite a production of it. He was such a melodramatic boy.

  "Will ye be wedding the laird?" he asked after a moment.

  Lisa's brows lifted as she pondered that. A shiver skittered up her spine. She could not return home. This was her life. What would Catherine want her to make of it? Lisa knew the answer to that. Catherine would have fussed and cosseted and dressed Lisa in the finest wedding gown, pushed her into bed with the brawny Highlander, and hovered outside the door to ascertain that Lisa made appropriately satisfied honeymoon sounds.

  "I do believe I will," she said slowly, trying to accustom herself to the thought.

  Eirren clapped his hands and beamed at her. "Ye willna regret it."

  Lisa's eyes narrowed astutely. "Do you have a special interest in this, Eirren?"

  "I merely wish to be seein' a lassie happy."

  "That's not all of it," Lisa said. "Confess. You like the laird, don't you? You admire him and you think he needs to get married, don't you?"

  Eirren nodded, his eyes bright. "I suppose I have a fondness for him."

  Probably because his own father didn't have much time for him, she thought. Circenn Brodie would be easy for a lad to worship. "Hand me my towel, Eirren," Lisa ordered. She would get the filthy boy in the bath if she had to parade around nude to do it. Someone needed to take responsibility for him, treat him to tender arms and loving discipline.

  With an arch glance, he picked up her towel and, with an exaggerated swing of his arm, flung it far across the room to land on the bed. "Get it yerself."

  She gave him her most forbidding you-will-obey-me-little-boy-or-die glance. They waged a battle with their glares—his challenging, hers promising divine retribution—until with a gamin grin he leaped to his feet, slipped behind her, and was gone. She didn't even hear the door open and close.

  She sighed and leaned her head back against the tub, admitting that she hadn't really wanted to leave the warm, soapy water anyway. "I'll get you for this, Eirren," she vowed. "You will have a bath before the week is out."

  She wasn't certain but she thought she heard a soft tinkle of laughter outside the door.

  * * *

  The sun was shining, Lisa observed with pleasure. After bathing, she had slipped on a clean gown but forgone slippers. While the maids had removed her bath water, she'd flung open the window and realized that spring had graced the countryside while she'd grieved. She'd felt a fierce need to venture outside, to feel the sun, to savor the birdsong, to connect with what was to be her world. God, she needed to get out of her room. It was suffocating after so long.

  She strolled the courtyard at a leisurely pace, curling her bare toes in the lush green grass. Following the perimeter wall of the castle, she was acutely aware of the curious gazes of the guards in the high towers. They watched her intently, and she suspected that Circenn had instructed them not to let her slip from their sight. Rather than feeling guarded or trapped, she found it comforting. While finishing her bath she'd realized that she'd been lucky; things could have been much worse. She might have been dumped through time into the keep of a true barbarian, who would have abused her, turned her out, or simply killed her.

  She skirted a small grove of trees and paused, captivated by a clear reflecting pool encircled by smooth white rocks and cornered by four massive standing stones with Pict inscriptions. Lured by history, she trailed her fingertips over the engravings. A lovely stone bench squatted in a small copse before an unusual mound of earth that was about twenty feet long and a dozen feet wide. It was nearly as tall as she was, and the grass on it was a brilliant green, thicker and lusher than the rest of the lawn. Her toes ached to touch it. She stood regarding it, wondering what it was. A medieval burial mound?

  "It is a fairy mound. A shian," Circenn said, moving behind her. He placed his hand on her waist and inhaled the clean fragrance of her freshly washed hair.

  Lisa tipped back her head and smiled.

  "It is said that if you circle the mound seven times and spill your blood upon the peak, the Queen of the Fairies may appear and grant you a wish. I cannot guess how many young lads and lasses have pricked their fingers here. Old, tall tales—this land is full of them. Most likely some prior kin once emptied the chamber pots here. It would explain how thick and green the grass is." He dropped a kiss on her hair, wrapping his arms around her from behind. "I glimpsed you from the window and thought I might seek a word with you. How are you, lass?" he asked gently.

  "Better," she said quietly. "I'm sorry. I didn't plan to stay in there for so long. I just needed time to think. Until you'd given me the flask I still believed I might return. I needed time to come to terms with the reality of my situation."

  "You need offer me no apology. It is I who should offer you one." He turned her to face him. "Lisa, I am sorry you were ensnared by my curse. I would like to say that I'm sorry you came here, but I must confess that I…"

  Lisa glanced up at him searchingly.

  He took a deep breath. "That I will devote my life to making it up to you. That I wish to wed you and will see you well cared for."

  Lisa averted her gaze, mortified to feel tears threatening.

  He stepped back, sensing that she was fighting for control. "That was all I wished to say, lass. I will leave you to your walk now. I merely wished to be certain you knew how I felt."

  "Thank you," she said. As she watched him retreat, a part of her longed to summon him back, to make small, idle talk and while away the sunny afternoon, but tears still came too easily.

  After he'd gone she continued strolling, drawn to explore her new home. She soaked up the warm fays, stopping periodically to examine small buds and unusual foliage. It occurred to her that since she was to stay there, she could finally do something she'd longed to do for years—she could have a puppy. She'd always wanted a dog but their apartment had been too small. When she returned to the castle, she would ask Circenn if he knew of any recent litters in the village.

  As she approached the bothy, she realized she was going to survive. Her normal feelings were returning, her customary optimism, her desire to be involved in the world and to explore it. She wondered what a bothy actually was. A storehouse? A workshop? Turning the handle, she opened the door open and quietly stepped inside.

  Duncan Douglas stood there, nude, his back to her. My God, she thought. Not Circenn, but certainly remarkable. Overwhelmingly curious about all things sensual, she was unable to look away. An equally unclothed maid was pressed between his body and the wall. The maid's cheek was flush to the wooden wall and her palms were flattened against it above her head, with Duncan's strong hands covering them. His hips bucked against her, pushing into her from behind.

  Lisa wet her lips and breathed softly. She knew she should slip out quietly before they realized they'd been observed.

  In just a minute, she told herself, cheeks flaming. Her gaze dropped from his wide shoulders to his waist, over a muscled, tight ass that flexed as he pounded into her. Lisa couldn't move, assaulted by erotic images of Circenn doing the same to her.

  "Oh, my heavens." She was so fascinated, the words escaped her before she could spare thought to prevent them.

  They both turned to look at her at the same moment. The maid shrieked. The outrageous Duncan merely grinned. "Oops," he said nonchalantly.

  Lisa fled the bothy.

  At least now she knew what the ancients had used the outbuilding for.


  Privacy.

  * * *

  The days passed quickly, in a haze of warm sunny mornings and afternoons spent with Duncan, who took her on tours of the castle and estate, and quiet evenings spent with Circenn over scrumptious dinners.

  Circenn had been noticeably absent during the afternoons, neither training with his men nor present around the castle, and as they finished dessert that night she inquired about it.

  "Come." He rose from the table and motioned for her to follow. "I have something for you, Lisa. I hope it pleases you."

  She let him tuck her arm through his and guide her down a corridor she hadn't yet explored. It led to the end of the east wing, down winding and narrow stone hallways, through high arched doors, and up a circular stone staircase. He paused outside the door to a tower and removed a key from his sporran.

  "I hope you doona think I have…" He blew out a sigh, looking uncomfortable. "Lass, this seemed an excellent idea when I struck upon it, but now I have some concerns…"

  "What?" she asked, perplexed.

  "Have you ever come up with an idea that you think will make someone happy, then when it is time to give it to them you worry if perhaps you were wrong?"

  "Did you make something for me?" she asked, recalling the flecks of wood dust she'd glimpsed him brushing off his tartan the day before.

  "Aye," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. "But it suddenly occurred to me that if I doona know you as well as I think I do, it may make you sad."

  "Well, I'll just have to see it," she said, slipping the key from his hand.

  Whatever he'd done, he'd pleased her simply by caring, and thinking about her, not to mention investing his time in labor with the intent to please her. Aside from her parents and Ruby, she'd received few impulsive gifts in her lifetime, and never one someone had fashioned by hand.

  Curious, she inserted the key in the door, opened it, and stepped inside. Dozens of candles flickered, filling the room with a warm glow. The ceiling rose and met in a high wooden arch, and there were small benches strewn about. At the front of the room, before four beautifully colored windows, was a flat slab mounted on a thick base of stone—an altar. She realized he'd brought her to his private place of worship.