Lady Nellie: Highland Magic Series (Scottish Paranormal Romance)

by Verlin Underwood

  Lachina’s eyebrows rose with interest. “Oh, what are you here for then, lass?”

  “It’s about Laird Maxwell.”

  “I should’ve guessed.” Lachina frowned, narrowing her eyes. “Is he treating you poorly?”

  Nellie pondered the question. “For being locked up in his castle, surprisingly, he is being very courteous. Courteous for him, I might add. He still likes to frown a bit much. But there are no friendly faces for me in that place.”

  “Well, you’ll always have a friendly face here,” Lachina told her.

  Nellie lowered her cup from her lips. “You’re not worried that I’m going to curse you?”

  “Of course not. I’m old enough to know better than to give in to superstitions like that.”

  “But do you believe that I was, indeed, cursed?”

  “Yes, I do. And I know who it is you blame. I don’t have enough evidence myself to agree with it, but I also wouldn’t put it past her to do something so cruel.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Ach, Una would leave the castle for weeks at a time, leavin’ poor Calum to wring his hands like an old maid, wonderin’ where his wife had gone to. She’d always make him heartsick. I believe she did that on purpose. Methinks she liked to make him suffer so that he could love her more. Adam thinks Malcolm Lyall kidnapped her, but in my opinion, I think Adam is goin’ along with that story for his own peace of mind. He loved Una like she was his true mother.”

  Nellie was not expecting so much from Lachina. She took a moment to process the words. “Thank you for not acting like I am mad, as the whole lot of them at Dunaid does.”

  “Believe me,” Lachina said, giving her a wink. “There’s a reason why I do not live at that place. The whole Maxwell clan is a stubborn bunch.” She cleared her throat. “So, then, what are you here for?”

  “Adam has been… Laird Maxwell has been having a difficult time sleeping. He has bad dreams, I believe, that make him cry out into the night. They are loud enough that I can hear from my room.”

  Lachina nodded. “Adam has been through a lot,” she told her. “I would be surprised if he didn’t come back with the ghosts from his past.”

  Nellie lowered the cup from her lips. “What do you mean?”

  “He was captured after the Battle of Neville’s Cross fightin’ for King David II. When they lost the battle, he was imprisoned by the English before they finally let him go. He seemed to be one of the lucky ones. Some of the men he fought with were either killed or forced into hard labor. I know not much about his experience as he hasn’t talked to me about it, but it seemed to have cut him to the bone. He’s only just arrived back home before you came. Ach,” she said, pouring herself some more tea. “I am runnin’ my mouth again, but I trust you, lass. The Lyalls are good folk, from what I heard… before this whole mess occurred.”

  Imprisoned? She remembered the words he spoke when she accused him of being a gaoler. You have no idea what it’s like. “Is there any sort of herb he can take that can help to calm him?”

  “Aye, there are plenty.” Lachina stood up and rummaged around her cupboards before taking out a small jar of dried flowers. “But the most important thing is for him to open up an’ talk about his experiences. That is the only way he can heal.”

  Nellie scoffed. “I don’t think he’ll be talking to me about it anytime soon.”

  “Aye, well… perhaps give him more time.”

  Nellie gazed out the window, wondering if she had the patience or desire to even listen to him. She once again noticed the garden outside.

  “The former Laird Maxwell’s wife was named Isabel, was she not?”

  “Aye, indeed. He was deeply in love with the lass.”

  “The courtyard at Dunaid was her garden,” Nellie mused. “He gave it to her, didn’t he?”

  Lachina nodded, her eyes faraway in some memory. “She was a healer an’ used to grow herbs in that garden, far better than I ever could. Adam is a lot like her in many ways, although he never knew her. An’ in his desire for a mother, he latched on to Una, although I do not disagree that Una loved him as well.” Lachina shrugged. “He is good at helpin’ others, but not very skilled at takin’ care of himself. But do try to get him to take this tea.”

  Nellie took the jar of dried herbs. The laird was but a victim of tragedy just as she was. But they were not each other’s enemies. If only she could get him to understand that his stepmother was not kidnapped by her father, perhaps they could come to an understanding?

  Well, she would take small steps.

  When she came back to Dunaid castle, she stopped by Laird Maxwell’s study.

  She paused at the door before he noticed her. He was rubbing his temples as he hunched over the paperwork that sprawled on his desk like a cyclone came through his room. Had he even moved from his seat since this morning?

  It took a moment for him to finally notice her. “Did you get what you needed?” he asked.

  “Yes, I did. I…”

  “Lady Lyall.” He scratched the back of his head. Did he look… nervous? “I was mistaken in keepin’ you here. You can leave. I’ll give you a horse an’ provisions. Go wherever you’d like.”

  The offer took her by surprise. She considered it. Leave the castle? To where? Lachina did not have room in her tiny cottage, and the name Lyall seemed synonymous with the word “unlucky.”

  “I have nowhere else to go,” Nellie said sadly. “Did you know that everyone thinks I’m still cursed? Do you believe that yourself?”

  “I stopped believin’ those things when I was a lad,” Laird Maxwell remarked.

  “The way you say that so adamantly, it makes me think you have a shadow of a doubt.”

  The laird ran his hands through his hair and sighed. “Nay, I do not believe you are cursed.”

  “Well, that makes two people in all of Scotia,” she said sarcastically. “How very lucky of me.”

  Laird Maxwell stood up from his desk and walked over to her, startling her as he put his hands on her shoulders. “I do believe you have a wicked tongue an’ a fiery temper that needs to be doused if you are to stay here.”

  Nellie put a hand on her hip. “And how, pray tell, would you go about doing that?”

  He took another step towards her. She remembered the night before while she was here in his study, when she could feel the warmth of his body from being so close to her. Nellie realized she wanted that again. It made her feel both guilty for her parents’ sake and utterly alive for the first time in fifteen years.

  I am falling in love with a Maxwell.

  Laird Maxwell’s hands slid from her shoulders to grip her wrists, firm, yet gentle. She had no choice but to look up him as he lowered his head down towards her face, his lips only a hair’s width away from her own.

  “Adam,” she breathed. Saying his given name caused him pull her tightly against his body so that she could not tell whose heartbeat she felt.

  He held her close, but it was she who finally pressed her lips to his, relishing at the warmth and softness, and the taste of his masculinity. Her body felt as though it had melted into a pool of liquid as he kissed her back, his hand reaching up to cusp the crown of her head as his lips explored her own.

  But remembering herself, she jerked away from him. “I apologize. I cannot…” She shook her head. “Yes, I should go,” she reaffirmed, her voice shaking, her skin hot like she’d been burned from the sun. “I shall leave on the morrow.”

  He blinked at her. “Yes,” he said quietly, turning away from her.

  Nellie fled to her room.

  Chapter 10

  When Nellie was a lass, her ma told her a story about a time when she was just shy of womanhood. Her ma’s father, Nellie’s grandfather, was a rigid man set in old traditions, and on midsummer, he announced the betrothal of his daughter to a widow more than twice her age.

  “Imagine, Nellie,” her ma told her, her eyes crinkling with mirth as she remembered. “Imagine being nau
ght but fifteen years old, staring up at this man with wrinkles covering his face, and with his balding gray hair. He was old enough to be my father! Nay, he was older than my father, to be certain. Of course, after believing for my entire life that my future husband would be some sort of gallant knight who had already spent his life fighting off dragons, I was devastated.

  “However, knowing I had no way out of the matter, I concluded that despite appearances, the man was perhaps a gentle soul who would care for me… maybe better than any younger man could.” Her ma shrugged. “So, in the months leading up to the marriage, I pretended I was in love with him to make the passage to womanhood a bit easier for myself. Yet, the night before I was to be wed, I cried incessantly into my pillow. No one, not even my dear mother, could console me. The next morning, I was awoken… not from my mother whom I’d expected, but from my father. And he was very angry.”

  “So, what happened, then?” Nellie asked her ma. Her mother did have a way with storytelling that made her sit on the edge of her seat.

  “Well, it turned out that the man I was to marry had met with a comely young lady—younger than me, I might add—just before arriving to my father’s estate for the wedding, and he decided he’d rather have her for a wife than me.” Her ma laughed. “At first, I was outraged and mortified that someone would choose another girl over me, but then, I realized how lucky was. My father, of course, was furious.”

  Nellie’s grandfather died when she was only five summers, but on their rare visits to Northumberland to visit her grandparents, she only remembered his gruff demeanor. She shivered at the thought of him being angry.

  Her ma continued: “Because the entire neighboring clans came to celebrate the marriage, they were still all in my father’s castle in anticipation for the event. Your grandmother decided to change the event to a large feast. We ate all the food that had already been prepared, we danced, and played music as we had been planning to do. It really turned out to be a grand time, and I soon forgot my embarrassment.

  “That, Nellie, is when I met your father. Your father’s father was a friend of my da’s, and he had invited his entire family for the festivities. I thought your father was a brutish Scot when I spotted him across the hall with his friends, but when he asked me to dance, I knew within a moment’s notice that he was the one for me. Aye, he was a brute, but he was ever so sweet to me. He still is.”

  Her ma’s eyes became distant as she lost herself in the memory. Nellie sighed, wishing for the day to come sooner when she would feel the same way. “I was very much thankful that I never married that old man. I never would have met your father if I had. And I wouldn’t have had you.” Her ma tapped her finger on the tip of Nellie’s nose. “There is someone out there for you as well, Nellie. Your father and I never liked the idea of betrothals, so we did not want you to have one. Just be patient and you will find him, or he will find you.”

  Nellie imagined her ma would have been delighted by Nellie being so bold to have kissed a handsome man like Adam. Her ma and da were well known to be affectionate in public. Most marriages weren’t made from love, but for familial and territorial benefits. Only a few were able to escape the bonds of betrothal and actually marry for love.

  Yes, her ma would be delighted, perhaps until she learned that it was a Maxwell whom Nellie kissed. She harbored no kind feelings toward the family once the curse hit.

  But what about my feelings?

  After escaping her mortification in Adam’s study, she ran to her room to pack her belongings, but in reality, she had nothing but the clothes she already wore. Her heart still beat wildly as she sat on her bed, trying to recollect her senses. The same scene replayed in her mind incessantly.

  I cannot believe I kissed him!

  She collapsed her head into her hands and moaned. She’d wholeheartedly believed she had a bit of restraint with her baser feelings of attraction towards Adam. So, what happened? It was not love. Of course, it wasn’t. Perhaps what she felt toward him was only that she craved companionship. Indeed, she hadn’t had friend in fifteen years. She just went about finding friendship in a completely unacceptable way.

  Well, she needed to remember that she was on her own. Perhaps someday, she would meet a true friend, and perhaps a man to spend her life with. But that time was not now. She needed to leave this confusing place and find a way to start over her life elsewhere. But wherefore now would she go?

  She would need to find the nearest town. Of course, she would not ask Adam directly. She didn’t think she’d be able to face him ever again after what she did. Maybe Alister would tell her, or maybe she would once again stop by Lachina’s house once she left Dunaid. Nellie doubted it would be wise to ask advice from someone who detested her, like Alister and the rest of the people who lived in Dunaid.

  Nellie took one last look at her room before leaving. She had the jar of tea in one hand and the books that Adam lent her in the other. Aye, she was missing something… her dagger! Did Adam take it from her again? She checked under the bed and behind the curtains in a moment of panic before remembering that she’d left it out in the courtyard while she was trimming the plants. Aye, she would retrieve it and then she’d leave for good.

  The castle was quiet. As she walked downstairs, she noted how familiar she had become in this place, although she had not been there for very long. Aye, Dunaid served its purpose to foster me back to good health, despite the hostilities of the Maxwell clansmen. It is now time for me to move on.

  Why then, did she feel so hesitant, like she was making the wrong decision? Adam’s study was empty as she walked by it. She went over to his desk and placed the books and tea next to his papers and quill. Tears welled in her eyes, although she did not know if it was from sadness or relief.

  She went into the courtyard and looked around one more time. It was very well likely that the place would quickly become overgrown once she left. Perhaps the next big storm would blow the Sanctuary over, causing the loose stones to crush the lovely bench. It is not my problem, she reasoned as she walked across the stone pathway to the Sanctuary where her dagger lay.

  Her intuition warned her to stop. The soft hairs on the back of her neck stood up as she heard footsteps behind her. Nellie turned around quickly, but there was naught but the giant hedges and birdsong.

  “Who’s there?” she called out, but she was only greeted by the echo of her own voice bouncing off the four walls that surrounded her.

  There were more footsteps. Nellie turned her head and looked over at the Sanctuary, but she saw not a soul. When did she become such a poltroon? Rubbing her arms with her hands to ward off the perpetual chill, she continued to walk to the Sanctuary until a hand clasped around her right shoulder.

  Nellie turned quickly, but it was too late. She was smacked against her head with something solid; it the same spot on her temple that was still tender and healing from her fall from her horse, Lily. Stars graced her vision and the world turned unsteady as pain shot from her head down her body.

  Nellie stumbled forward toward the Sanctuary before falling hard onto her knees, the stars completely covering her vision. The pain was unbearable and she cried out to whoever was nearby for help. Of course, no one would come for her.

  She reached her hand up to touch her head and was greeted by the sticky liquid of her own blood. Her stomach twisted into knots until she vomited. Some of the nausea then left, but the agonizing pain still lingered.

  The darkness that took her vision was a welcomed gift.

  Chapter 11

  Adam stalked up the stairs to the parapet and let out a sigh when he heard the pitter patter of the servant boy Thom’s feet behind him, attempting to catch up.

  “M’laird. Robert Tolmach is here to see you. He wants to go over some numbers you sent him.”

  Ach, this week he would hire an accomptant.

  “Tell him to come tomorrow,” Adam ordered. He had not the mind to talk to anyone now, much less to someone who was angry with him.
r />   “Yes, m’laird,” Thom replied breathlessly.

  The rain cooled his skin as Adam walked out onto the parapet, but it did not douse the desire that still burned in him. He thought he’d been fine with Nellie leaving Dunaid. Ach, but the moment she kissed him… well, that changed everything.

  Adam could not get the lass from his vision. His body still reacted to her touch like she still stood in front of him with their bodies close. He still felt her lips and her sweet breath mixing with his own.

  He hated how she fled from him like he was something repulsive. It was total folly to think that she would actually desire to be near him.

  But she was the one who went in for the kiss!

  A natural reaction, perhaps? Or a release of emotions?

  Who knew what went on in that golden head of hers?

  But he knew what he wanted. Nellie Lyall. And the lass hated him. She hated everything his family stood for. And he should hate her, too.

  But, I don’t… and I don’t believe I ever did, despite my earlier actions.

  And now, she would leave for good, and away from his life. He wished he could start over, to have her arrive so suddenly again on his doorstep. He wanted to take her in, care for her, and treat her not as a prisoner as she felt, but as a proper lady. Perhaps he would then take the time to get to know her, rather than punishing her for being a Lyall.

  If only.

  He knew how dangerous it was to be caught in such a daydream of things that could have been. He saw grown men cry in the prison cell they shared over the guilt that ravaged their souls. He, too, was trapped in that void every night when he lay his head down on his pillow to sleep.

  In his dreams, he saw his dead cellmates and his dead father. And in every dream, he tried futilely to save them, just as he failed to do so in reality. Perhaps pretending to hate Nellie was just Adam dumping his guilt on her. It was like putting a tiny plaster over a gaping wound.

  Aye, but it was folly to linger in the past.