by Rosie Harper
“Why can’t you just leave the animals alone?” Another boy asked. “We don’t like witches around here, and my da says that you’re one.”
“He’s wrong,” Fiona heard herself say. She regretted it almost instantly as she saw the look on the children’s face change from something casually cruel to something much much darker. Upon seeing the tide change, she took a step back in fear.
“Witch!” One of the boys cried, and threw another stone her way. It hit her hard in her shin, hard enough to make her stumble, the eggs cracking against the gravel of the path. She looked at the broken yokes, a bright orange red like spilled sunshine. She lay there for a moment, desperately hoping that they wouldn’t advance, desperately hating herself for being too scared to run.
She could feel their angry stares on the back of her neck, could hear the angry whispers of “witch”, although she wasn’t fully sure if they were saying it out loud, or if she was repeating their taunts in her head. It could have been either. She heard the quiet sound of a stone rubbing against the earth as it was picked up. She heard their footprints. She closed her eyes against the violence that was to come.
“Hey! Lads! What are you doing to that lady?” A voice that she didn’t recognize sang through the air, biting in its authority. She listened to the crunch of the gravel beneath his boots as he approached before finding the courage to lift her head.
The first thing she noticed was that he was tall, taller than her brother, and lean. He stood with a confidence that, on any other person, might be construed as arrogance. The stranger wore his belief in himself too well for that, however. His hair was a long reddish blond, with little braids adorning his hair. He placed himself between Fiona and the angry boys with firm feet. The boys just stared.
“That’s no way to treat a lady,” the stranger said. One boy who had his arm wound back, prepare to throw, lowered his arm and nodded dumbly at the man.
“Now get out of here, you devils, before I find each and every one of your fathers and insist that they tan all of your hides!”
She should have felt relief as the boys turned and ran, but instead something else, something fluttery and terrifying gripped her heart as she realized that they had left her alone with the mysterious stranger. He knelt down to her level, gently placing a hand on her arm.
“Are you alright, lass?”
It took a moment for her to realize that the stranger was talking to her, although she was staring directly into his eyes. Such strange eyes they were, a golden brown more gold than brown. She took a deep breath and moved her leg. Her shin hurt plenty when she moved it, but it was nothing more than a bruise and she thought she was otherwise intact. The stranger winced as he reached over and touched her cheek.
Pain exploded along her cheekbone as though someone had thrust a red hot poker into her eye. She hissed in pain and he drew his hand back.
“I’m sorry, m’lady, but your cheek...looks like one of those boys is an expert marksman.”
“They always seem to be when they have hatred on her side.” She moved to her knees and began to struggle to rise, and the mysterious stranger had moved to her side and helped her, something she both appreciated and loathed.
“But who could hate you?” The stranger asked. He sounded genuinely confused at such hatred,and Fiona tried not to laugh out loud. How had he not heard about the strange witch girl of clan MacCaig? Who else would be found in the middle of a road, nearly getting stoned to death by children by her?
“Plenty,” was all she could respond. “Everyone thinks I’m a witch.”
If this surprised or terrified the man, it didn’t show, instead he smiled and helped her along the path. “I hardly think that’s any reason to throw rocks at a person.”
“I’m not a witch,” she said through gritted teeth.
“Either way,” the man replied. “It’s rude.”
She turned to study his face again, trying not to be taken in by how handsome he was. Was this one of the members of Clan Sheehy? They were not due to arrive to the village until tomorrow, but this mysterious highland warrior could not have come out of the blue for no reason.
“You must be one of our visitors,” she said after a moment. He smiled at her.
“You would be correct,” he replied. “And you must be the very flower of Clan MacCaig?’
“Not particularly,” she replied. “A wilted flower more like.”
“Not at all.” He smiled at her and part of her felt incredible relief. This man, this warrior of another clan, had no idea who she was. Her mind raced with the possibility of being whoever she wanted at that very moment.
“Well, my wilted flower, do you have a name?”
“Moira,” she said, saying her mother’s name. “Of Clan MacCaig, of course. And what is yours?’
He smiled and took her hand. “Callum, of Clan Sheehy.”
Slowly, he raised her hand to his lips, and as they touched the delicate skin of the back of her hand, it felt as though fire shot through her. She let out a little gasp in surprise, and he laughed.
“Would you like to take a walk in the meadow with me?” He asked her kindly. There were several reasons why she knew it was a terrible idea to do so, but at the moment the feeling of warmth that had overtaken her chased it out of her brain and left her dizzy. She nodded. He smiled like a gentleman and threaded his arm through hers, helping her off the path and through the wildflowers that had started to grow.
There was a wild beauty in the highlands at this time of year where the winter was a distant memory and flowers bloomed. The pain Fiona had felt at the hands of the children had disappeared in light of this recent development, there was she, being escorted by a handsome man, while he listened to her talk about anything that came to mind.
She told him about her father, although left out several important details such as his position in the clan, and changed her brother’s age to be that of a much smaller child. He was smart and clever, saying a clever word or two, and Fiona found that she enjoyed his company more than she had ever expected. He was kind, and as they wandered so did her mind.
What did Callu Sheehy expect from her? Did he simply want a walk, or was he luring her into something far more nefarious. More importantly, if he did have designs on her virtue, did she care? He was handsome and gallant, she was tremendously un-marriageable, would it truly be a scandal if she lay with some faceless warrior of Clan Sheehy?
Once that touched her mind, his lack of advances infuriated her. She tried to arrange herself in the most attractive way possible so that she may catch his eye, she tried to laugh as prettily as the girls in the village did when they were capturing the heart of the boys, but he was infuriatingly thoughtful.
Something caught her eye and dragged her out of her mentally pouting state. Pale sprouts of heather poked up only a few feet away from them, and she let go of his arm to make her way there.
“Moira?” He asked as she knelt beside the plant. Her heart fell. Pale though the flowers may be, they were still clearly purple.
“Not white,” she said to him as he knelt beside her.
“I don’t understand,” he replied.
“White heather is a sign of love and good fortune. I’ve spent so many years looking fora sprig of white heather.”
His golden eyes were unreadable as he studied her face, and to her surprise, very suddenly, he leaned down and gave her a simple kiss on her lips.
It was the first time Fiona had ever been kissed, and her heart felt as though it would explode with nervousness. How many girls had this man kissed in meadows before? Would he realized that he would be the first one to ever kiss her? He broke the kiss and stared long and deep into her eyes.
“That’s the first thing you’ve said that’s truly sounded like you since we’ve started our walk,” he told her.
She looked up at him for a long time, how could this strange understand her so easily and so soon? She felt breathless, like everything was too tight, too close, and the onl
y thing she wanted was to feel his lips on hers again,
Fiona threw her arms around his neck and kissed him, and after a moment of hesitation she felt his arms wrap around her waist as he moved to lay down, pulling her on top of him. What little experience she had seemed to not matter at all once her instinct took over, and soon she was gripping him as hard as he had gripped her, holding him as tightly and he held her. She felt his warm hands, so warm it was as though he were on fire, reach up to tug at the laces of her bodice. She hesitated for a moment, could she go down this path that she could not return?
He paused as well, those golden eyes staring up into hers. Callum seemed nervous, as though he were afraid that he may break her, and she could feel the confusion in his muscles as he debated letting her go, but desperately wanting not to.
“Is this alright?” he asked her seriously, staring into her eyes. She felt as though she had a fever, and kissing him more was the only way she could feel well.
“Yes,” she whispered to him, and helped him unlace her bodice.
She had never felt so free as she did that that moment, as his hands, so warm and rough circled around her breasts. No one had ever touched her like this, she had never even touched herself like this, and now this expert man did it with a slow, practiced grace.
Fiona couldn’t say anything, and didn’t want to, and her hands, once so hesitant and nervous, moved to unlace his breeches. He gasped as she wrapped her hands around the hard length of him. It was startling to see a man wanting her, it was startling to want a man as much as she did.
“Please,” she whispered to him, moving to her back and pulling him to her. “Please do it.”
She may never know the happiness of marriage, but she was going to know what it felt like to make love to a man. He rolled on top of her, bracing himself lest he crush her, and guided himself gently inside. It didn’t hurt, not entirely, but felt like something, new, something strange, and as he gently began to move inside of her she wrapped her arms around his shoulder and matched his rhythm.
He was so warm, so hot to the touch, he felt like he was scorching her while he moved. She cried out, not in pain, but with a pleasure she did not think she would ever be able to understand. She knew what it meant now, and she would carry that wonderful secret to her grave if she had to. He tried to remain gentle, but there was something strange about him, a feral intensity as she stared into his eyes, it scared the largest part of her, but a smaller, louder part loved every minute of it.
When he was done, he rolled off of her and stared at her in wonder.
“Who are you?” he asked as she lay with a contented smile upon her face.
“Didn’t you hear those boys?” she said with humor. “I’m a witch.”
Chapter 3
Fiona truly felt no different on a spiritual level, as she had always thought, instead she carried the fun, delicious feeling of having a secret all to her own. Part of her felt mature, like a woman full of secrets. Other than that, she didn't understand all of the fuss the other girls made about such a thing. Was it so important to wait until marriage? Fiona wasn't so sure, but she did know that it was fun, no she was incredibly thankful to the kind man who has treated her so gently.
The next day, her father held a feast in the great hall to welcome the guest clan. Randall Sheehy and his beautiful wife arrived with smiles on their faces, trailing behind him was a girl a few years younger than Fiona herself, with long, thin blonde hair and watery eyes that peered sullenly out at the people around her. Fiona could not understand why she looked so upset, but maybe it wasn’t for her to know.
Her father greeted Randall with a firm handshake and a kindly word, and they all seated themselves at dinner. Randall was a kind man, with a great hearty laugh, and his wife loved to tease him, Fiona quickly learned that the girl was named Annella, and she was not a fan of travelling outside of the clan’s lands.
“Other people don’t understand us,” she had whispered to Fiona, who did not know how to respond.
“So tell me, Angus, what moves you to invite me and mine to your lands after so many years?’ Randall reached for a thick leg of turkey and placed it on his plate with a hearty desire.
“I wish that this long overdue meeting between our families had been just on a whim,” Angus said gravely. “However there have been a series of mysterious killings happening to the animals of our village, and I thought that you would know what to do about it.”
Randall grew quiet as Fiona listened to her father explain the circumstances of the deaths, of the strange missing organs, the fact that it did not look like an animal had killed it. Randall nodded gravely, his eyes flicking over to study Fiona’s face before hiding behind his jolly mask again. For a moment, Fiona’s heart grew cold.
“Aye, I may know a thing or two about people such as these, when did this start?”
“About a month ago, my shepherds said, and the latest being only yesterday.”
Randall nodded in all seriously, casting a glance about the room. “I will, of course, help you, but you know I won’t be able to do it without something in return.”
Relief flooded Fiona’s heart, of course they would help! She had been so worried that others would continue to think that she was a witch, but now that these mysterious clansmen were here, she knew that they would prove her innocence.
“I completely understand, Randall. And I remember the deal we made so long ago.”
Once again Randall turned and looked at Fiona, she raised her head in confusion at his attention, and grew even more confused when he leaned forward, as though he were about to tell her some whispered secret.
“Hey lass, what do you believe in?”
It was a strange thing to ask, and Fiona wasn’t sure how to respond, but her father nodded his assent to have her answer, so she merely smile as best she could and gave her best reply.
“I try to believe in everything, my lord.”
She must have answered correctly, for Randall let out a loud whoop of laughter and clapped Angus hard on the back.
“She’ll do, Angus! She’ll do quite well!”
Her father must have caught on to how lost she felt, for he touched her kindly on the shoulder and whispered that everything was going to be alright.
“Its a deal then, Angus! Your daughter for my son, just as we always planned!”
Fiona’s eyes grew wide at his words, and she turned to her father with a look akin to fear.
“Marriage?!” she asked. To his credit, Angus looked terrified at the notion that his daughter had found out this way, but the only thing Fiona could think about was the mysterious warrior who she would now have to see on a regular basis, if she became the wife of the clan chieftain’s son. How long would it take for him to tell everyone about their moment in the meadow?
“Yes, old girl! Your father and I once made a pact in the heat of battle, that my son would one day wed to his daughter, but only if the circumstances became right. And let me tell you, my girl, they are right!”
Fiona was entirely at a loss, she had never thought of herself to be the kind of girl to marry, and now to the future leader of another clan? She remembered her manners and willed a smile to come to her face.
“Oh, well that’s grand news for me! When can I meet my intended?”
If he had half the kindness of Randall, or any of the beauty of his wife, Fiona knew that the match would be well made. However, she couldn’t shake the anger over the fact that this decision had been made for her.
“Oh, he’s most likely here somewhere, always likes to go out for a run before a meal...Callum?”
Fiona had not known that Callum was in the hall, perhaps she had not noticed him guarding a table? Yet there he was, as handsome as ever, striding through the rows of tables to the seat of honor where the chieftains sat with their families. Annella glowered at him, and for a moment Fiona wondered if she was secretly in love with the warrior, until he laughed and ruffled her hair.
“Sorry I’m late to the meal, little sister,” he said to her. That took a little moment to set in.
“You’re always late, running around like a fool, of course.”
“Of course.”
He caught Fiona’s eye as he sat across from her, his mouth sounding out the word “Moira” until he fell silent at the quick, curt shaking of her head. Randall beamed at his son and raised a cup to toast Fiona.
“Callum Sheehy, heir to Clan Sheehy, meet your new bride!”
His astonishment showed that he had not planned this all along, and for that Fiona appreciated him, but she was already planning in her head exactly what she could do once dinner was over. She’d leave her bed under cover of darkness, creep out into the highlands, and solve the mystery herself .That way she could still maintain control of her destiny. It was the only thing that mattered now.
Chapter 4
Pale fingers of dawn began to creep over the hills that sprawled out before her like a promise. She had been terrified to leave the village in the dead of night, but it had been necessary. Either way, the moon had been so bright she had not needed a lantern. Perhaps it was panic that caused her to flee, she wasn’t fully sure, but she knew now that she needed to find the beautiful woman who had caused all of these problem so she could take back her choice for herself.
At first she had no idea how she was going to lure the beautiful woman out, but she had easily come to the rather unsettling conclusion that if the woman had attacked animals that got bigger and bigger, then it was only natural for a human to be next. Luckily for Fiona, she had her wits about her, and would be able to fight.
It was a foolhardy plan, she knew in her heart, but the horrible feeling in her stomach at being presented to Callum Sheehy like a prize to be won had yet to go away.
She paused by a cave, unwrapping one of her oat cakes to break her fast. If she solved this herself, then her life would feel like hers again. She knew this, and yet the oat cake made her mouth feel dry, and she could not stop thinking about look in Callum’s beautiful golden eyes. She had lied to him, and what would be think about a girl like her?
