Lady Nellie: Highland Magic Series (Scottish Paranormal Romance)

by Verlin Underwood

  The vulnerability in his eyes hardened almost immediately. “You found something a bit more decent to wear as you skulk about my castle. Good.”

  “Ah yes.” Nellie said, looking down at her gown. Do you usually thank a gaoler? “But I believe you’re just as guilty of skulking, my laird, as you stand here in the shadows so early in the morning. Did you sleep out here? Maybe I should try it, as it might be better than that cave-like bedroom I’ve been sleeping in. Honestly, it looks as though you have not slept in a sennight.”

  A dangerous look flashed over his eyes as he walked toward her. Perhaps she should have kept her mouth shut, but she was angry with him, and angry at the fact that his mother was the reason all of this had happened. She was also angry with herself for not being strong enough to find a way out of this place.

  Ach, but he was still coming towards her! Nellie backed away until she felt the cool stone wall against her back. He stared down at her, his face impassive save for his eyes, which now resembled emerald green flames.

  “I’d say that I am being very hospitable considerin’ your father destroyed my family.”

  Nellie clenched her fists as she looked up at him. “Well, your mother destroyed mine,” she said daringly. She paused for a heartbeat before adding: “And I want my dagger back.”

  He laughed at her, although there was no mirth in his eyes. “Do you take me for a fool?” he asked.

  “No. I think you are just extremely insolent. Why keep me here if you hate me so?”

  “Retribution.”

  He let her go and her body relaxed almost instantly. “Look at us, bickering like children,” she said flippantly, although her heart was beating like a war drum. “Anyway, I came out here to have a bit of fresh air, but I cannot seem to find it with you being here, so I’ll be on my way. Good day.” She turned around and left, letting out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding.

  “Close the door on your way out, Lady Lyall.”

  She made the effort to slam the door shut, as heavy as it was. What an insufferable man, she thought as she stomped down the stairs. It was as though he never learned any manners while growing up. Retribution, indeed!

  When she was back down from the turret, she stopped by a door that she’d not noticed before. It was almost as big as the door in the entrance hall, but instead of plain wood, this door was painted a startling red, albeit chipped and faded. There was a window on the door caked with grime and dust. Nellie used the sleeve of her gown to brush the dirt away and then peered through it.

  She was greeted by the sight of a garden surrounded by the walls of the castle. Her hand immediately reached for the doorknob. The door gave a rusty groan like it hadn’t been opened in years.

  She stepped into the courtyard, marveling at the unruly hedges and at the trees baring branches that snaked across the expanse like a canopy. The courtyard must have been a beautiful and carefully-tended garden once upon a time, but now, it was overgrown with ivy and ferns, making it almost impassable to walk through. The ground squished under her feet from peat and moss, covering her slippers in mud.

  In the middle of the courtyard, an old, circular structure stood. The wall was completely ruined on side, with stones spilling across the ground like some sea monster smashed into it with her tail. It was no doubt once a lovely spot for refuge against the Highlands’ relentless rain and unpredictable weather.

  Why had nobody tended to this courtyard? Why abandon it to nature? She dared to step inside the ruined building. In the middle was stone bench, carved intricately with a lovely knot-work design and worn in certain places from years of rain and neglect. Looking closer, she noticed an engraving on the seat.

  To my lovely Isabel. Calum.

  Who was Isabel?

  The sky clouded as she continued to explore the courtyard, and soon, the rain began to fall. Nellie made for the stone building, but indeed, the rain leaked through the collapsed roof. Figuring if she stayed out any longer she would catch another ague, she reluctantly left the little sanctuary she found and went back inside the castle.

  At least I have found a place for my own, she thought, since Laird Maxwell already claimed the parapets.

  That brief excursion took more out of her that she’d expected. Fatigue greeted her upon her return inside the castle. She took off her slippers so not to track mud and went barefoot back to her room to rest.

  Sometime in the afternoon, Isla’s maid, Hilda, gently knocked on the door, giving her the surprise of inviting her to dinner.

  “Was it Laird Maxwell who invited me?” Nellie asked the girl.

  The girl bowed her head. “I know not, m’lady.”

  “Very well.” She had not had a formal dinner meal since arriving at Dunaid, having had her meals instead brought up to her like an invalid. What gave the laird a change of heart?

  Indeed, she hadn’t had a formal dinner in fifteen years! And despite the circumstances, she had a sort of girlish fancy about going to one. Mayhap there would be music and dancing, just as she remembered as a girl. She might as well find enjoyment in whatever way she could.

  Before Hilda left, Nellie asked her, “Do you have any extra set of pins for my hair, then?”

  “Of course, m’lady. I’ll be back with them shortly.”

  Her hair had become messy and wild during her earlier adventure. After Hilda came back with the needed supplies, she gave it a quick run-through with the comb. She made two long braids before pinning both braids on either side of her head, just as her mother used to do. She gazed her reflection in the looking glass, frowning at the gash in her head, manipulating her hair so that it was mostly covered.

  She gave herself one more look, satisfied with her appearance. She was no prisoner. She was Lady Lyall of Burrach Castle, and these wretched people better remember it.

  She kicked most of the dried mud from her slippers into the fireplace and put them on before making her way downstairs.

  Disappointingly, the great hall was somber, with not a musician in sight.

  A few serving boys and girls quietly laid out plates and cutlery in front of about a dozen solemn faces, most of whom Nellie was beginning to recognize by appearance, rather than name. She frowned as heads turned toward her and she sensed their discomfort. She seemed to be the last to arrive, like her invitation had been an oversight.

  Indeed, she wondered if there had been an invitation at all, for Mary was looking quite gleeful and Isla was giving her friend a very directed frown.

  Oh.

  She’d arrived just as Laird Maxwell did from the opposite side of the hall. His hair had been tamed somewhat since earlier that morning and he was dressed in a crisp tunic with a sword hanging by his side. He stood across the table from her and a peculiar look crossed his face like he was pained by just the sight of her. Swiftly, he disregarded her as he took the seat at the head of the table.

  Yes, I was not supposed to be here. Did I commit some sort of court atrocity by walking in here with the laird? Nellie thought. Well, she wasn’t going to leave now and show her humiliation, so she took an empty seat at the table as though she had every right to be there.

  MacKenzie looked decidedly uncomfortable to be so close to her. What changed with this man? she wondered disdainfully. One day, his hands are gladly all over my person, and the next, he acts as though I am covered in warts. She wanted an opportunity to flirtatiously rest her hand on his to see how he would recoil. What great satisfaction that would be.

  “Good evening,” she said sweetly to Isla and Mary from the other side of the table. Mary seemed to have a difficult time controlling her giggles, and it looked as though Isla was giving her friend a swift kick under the table.

  A plate of vegetables simmering in butter with a slice of that suckling pig she saw that morning graced her plate. She was unfortunately reminded of the women in the kitchen as she picked up her fork, but she ate anyway, craving the nourishment.

  She could feel Mary’s eyes on her as she ate. After a
voiding her gaze for a time, she finally looked up to meet them. Mary smiled sweetly at her and asked, “So what was it like living as an outcast for so long?”

  “Mary,” Isla exclaimed, shocked.

  “No, it’s all right,” Nellie assured her, setting her fork down. “At first, it was lonely. I have no siblings, you see, and as a child, I had to make do with naught but my imagination. I suppose I got used to it, although I always dreamed about leaving.”

  “How’d the curse fall upon your family, anyway?” Isla seemed to not be able to stave off her curiosity.

  She looked at the lot of them. Laird Maxwell, who had thus far acted like he had no interest in the conversation, paused his fork and knife to look at her. They knew not what happened? She thought about deflecting the question, but what did she have to lose if she said the truth, as outrageous as it would sound?

  “A leannan sith named Una set it on my family.”

  The tabled erupted into muffled gasps. The ladies glanced quickly at each other, then at Laird Maxwell. Alister let out a guffaw, slamming the table with his large hand, causing all of the dishes to rattle.

  “Una did it?” he chortled. “That’s golden. I wouldn’t put it past her tho—” he was silenced under Laird Maxwell’s glare.

  Nellie looked at all of them incredulously. “Do you not know that Una is a leannan sith?

  Laird Maxwell cleared his throat. “Nay. My stepmother isn’t a leannan sith,” he said quietly, his voice laced with anger. “As for your outrageous allegations against her, I’d advise you to cease immediately.”

  Everyone hushed at the words. Even Alister closed his mouth and sipped his ale uncomfortably.

  A stepmother? So, Laird Maxwell was decidedly not a fairy. Could she be wrong about Una? Nay, it wasn’t possible. Her da wouldn’t lie to her and her ma about the curse. What purpose would that serve?

  The meal went on in relative silence. The rest of the table quietly talking amongst themselves and Nellie wishing she could take her plate of food and escape to her room, or perhaps to the courtyard. The ivy and the rain would give her far better company than these people.

  She also wished Lachina was nearby so she could ask her questions. She seemed to be the only person in the castle who seemed to actually trust her, and her only friend in all of Scotia.

  Chapter 6

  Without compunction, Nellie continued to come to mealtimes. She was never formally invited, but it seemed that nobody had the nerve to tell her to leave directly. They perhaps thought her mad, especially after her outburst condemning the former wife of Malcolm Maxwell. All the better.

  They can stay out of my hair and I’ll stay out of theirs.

  Laird Maxwell was but a wraith of Dunaid Castle. He did not appear at every meal, and in fact, she scarcely saw him at all as the days went by. She figured he was hiding up in his little corner of the parapet. In a way, it seemed that he was not very eager to do his job as a laird of his estate.

  A reluctant laird… She thought all men would be wanting of such a prestigious title, but Laird Maxwell seemed to be the outlier.

  Because no one told her otherwise—or perhaps they did not notice—she spent most of her days in the courtyard, cleaning here and there, using a broom she found in a cupboard to sweep up some leaves into piles. Although she had nowhere to put the rubbish from the foliage, it did make the space a little neater. She was determined to continue as it gave her something to pass the time.

  At nights, she lay in her bed, staring at her mother’s brooch, having naught else to do. She had already mended her clothes to fit her better and cleaned her room a bit so that the dust wouldn’t constantly make her sneeze. She’d even taken some fern clippings from the courtyard and laid them about the windowsill, just so her room could have some semblance of life. But quickly, she became bored and listless.

  The people in Dunaid Castle were avoiding her. She made a mental note of who lived there, and who made daily appearances: Alister and his wife Isla... Mary did not live at the castle, but lingered around Isla enough that she practically did. Nellie suspected that Mary had eyes for Laird Maxwell and was waiting for the opportune moment to latch on to him. What a match made in heaven.

  MacKenzie served as one of Laird Maxwell’s guards, but seemed to also be a friend. Lachina lived nearby from what Nellie gathered, but her duties took her to all over the laird’s estate, so she hadn’t seen her since that first morning.

  Ach, but this place is so dreadfully boring! At least in Burrach Castle, she had her books. She had not thought to bring any with her when she left, although she doubted if she had room in the bag she brought.

  Adam was a laird, a noble… An educated noble must have something lying around she can read to pass the time away until she found the opportunity to leave! Perhaps on the morrow, she would ask him.

  It took her a while that night to fall asleep, but she was awoken swiftly in the wee hours of the morning, with her heart beating quickly. Was it something she heard? She held her breath and jumped as a yell broke the silence in the castle. She got up and looked out the window, being reminded of the call the wolves made when they were around Burrach, hunting her family’s livestock.

  But when she heard the howl again, she knew immediately that it was not from an animal, but from a human. It was also coming from inside. She wrapped her breacan around her shoulders and picked up a candle to help guide her way.

  The halls were quiet and her footsteps creaked loudly on the wooden floorboards. She heard the cry once again and walked toward it, her legs shaking as she drew closer to the source. Then, there was absolute silence. Nellie stood still for a few breaths before deciding to turn around. As she walked back to her room, she ran into something hard, making her shriek. She dropped her candle and it extinguished as it hit the ground, sending her into complete darkness.

  “What are you doing?” It was Laird Maxwell, of all people.

  Nellie quickly stepped to the side so that their bodies were no longer touching. “Oh, uh… I heard a noise.”

  “A noise?”

  She bristled at his laconic response. “Yes, I believe I heard howling. I just wanted to see if I could find where it was coming from. But perhaps it was naught but the wind.”

  Although she could barely see him, she knew he was staring at her silently, perhaps thinking that she really did lose her mind. Maybe I have. Not knowing what else to say she whispered, “I’m sorry if I woke you.”

  “Go back to your room.”

  “I… I cannot see where it is.”

  Briskly, he took her by the arm and guided her through the hall. She almost ran into him again as he abruptly stopped to open a door. The light from the sconces in her room illuminated them both.

  “Thank you,” she said to him, but he was already walking away. In the dim light from her room, she saw the steel blade of her dagger unsheathed in Laird Maxwell’s hand.

  Chapter 7

  Adam’s days were spent listening to his clansmen’s complaints.

  Entertaining is the better word for it, he thought. His chin rested in his hand, his elbow propped up on the chair’s armrest as he struggled to keep his eyes open. I am just entertaining these fools. If I need to listen to a farmer complain about a boundary dispute because of a wayward sheep one more time…

  He wondered how his father managed to do this for near twoscore years without going mad. Sure, there were bigger disputes that had to be carefully managed, but most of the complaints could be dealt with by just a bit of communication between the two offenders.

  Nay, people like a mediator.

  The following evening, Adam sat in his office, going through the ledgers that kept the amounts of money owed to him and the taxes he needed to send off to the king’s estate. Alister didn’t do a very good job with bookkeeping, although Adam didn’t have much of a head for numbers himself. In the next possible opportunity, he would look to hire a man who had a head for this sort of thing.

  Adam was interrupte
d by a knock on the door.

  “What is it?” He looked up and started, not expecting Lady Lyall to be standing there. He couldn’t help but notice she had altered her gown to fit her person better. The dress no longer threatened to slip from her shoulders, but instead, clung to her body in a way that revealed more of her curves, although he dared not to look too closely. Although but a few days had passed since she came to Dunaid Castle, she seemed much healthier, her skin less hallow with a fresh glow.

  Ach, okay. She was beautiful. And lately, he’d often wondered how it would feel to press himself against her soft body. Ever since she started wearing her hair up like that, he desired to run his fingers down that long, slender neck. He’d almost done that in the parapet a few days prior… My, but that fiery tongue made the blood in his veins burn!

  But he didn’t want to think about that. He didn’t want to think about how she made him feel just by looking at her. And he really did not want to think about last night and their meeting in the hallway. Ever since he left his imprisonment in England, he made a promise to himself that he would always remain in control. This lass made him feel anything but.

  “What is it you want?” he asked her again.

  She firmed her mouth and lifted her chin slightly, a habit he was beginning to notice. Did she think it made her look authoritative? Silly lass.

  “I am bored stiff in this castle. If you are planning to keep me cooped up in here, I demand some sort of amusement for myself, perhaps in the form of reading material.”

  “You are literate?”

  “You are surprised? Of course, I am literate,” she said haughtily. “My mother taught me, as she was taught by the nuns in Northumberland.”

  “Well, then,” he pointed to his open books. “You can read my ledgers for me and help me to decipher them.”

  She walked to his desk and looked down at the rows of numbers. Her nose scrunched with distaste. “I said I am bored stiff,” she told him. “This will make me madder than I suspect I already am.”