The Secret of Skye Isle

by Dillon, Marisa

  “That is better,” he whispered in her ear. “See, this does not hurt.”

  “But this should,” she said at the same time she kneed him in the groin.

  Ethan doubled over, gasping and cursing. “Do not think I will be deterred by your antics,” he swore. “Makes the chase more interesting,” he added, gritting his teeth as he turned his head to look up at her through a strained grin.

  She laughed with satisfaction. “Why make yourself suffer, when you can chide your twin here at Fyvie instead?”

  “And miss the opportunity to be alone with you in the woods for five days?” he questioned, straightening up with a groan.

  “Three days if we travel by ship around the upper coastline, then by horse through the Highlands. I must be back in time for Rosalyn’s birthing.”

  “Either way, I shall keep you warm,” he promised, inching closer.

  “You mean from harm,” she corrected, studying him. Was there more to him than she’d seen as Lachlan’s reckless, misunderstood twin brother? She often avoided him, but his warped charisma was alluring in a way Ursula could not understand.

  She was the black sheep of her family, too. Shunned by some of her kin. Different was different. Armed with her protection potion, perhaps she could get to know and maybe even like Ethan.

  While she had been considering him, Ethan had silently moved close enough to take her hand. “I shall keep you safe,” he promised, holding it gently and without possessiveness.

  Ursula did not yank her hand away, but let it settle in his, ready to make a pact and a promise. “If you accompany me, we will need rules.”

  Ethan shrugged his shoulders. “You know me as a rule breaker.”

  “This is precisely why I require you to promise to abide by my wishes.”

  “Hmmm . . . Are they rules or wishes?” he asked, a sly smile tugging at one corner of his lips.

  She caught herself. The man would take a furlong if you gave him an inch. “Rules!” she snapped louder than expected.

  “Everything all right, mi lady.”

  Ursula threw her arms up in surprise when the deep voice came from behind her.

  “Excuse me. I did not mean to interrupt a tryst, but are you in need of assistance, mi lady?”

  Ursula spun around to find no words. Her mouth was clearly her enemy as it hung open to her utter embarrassment.

  “Alasdair MacLeod, Eighth Laird of Dunvegan, at yer service,” he said in a heavy brogue, then he swung low in an exaggerated bow as if it was foreign to him.

  Ursula managed a curtsy but could not stop the heat that no doubt colored her pale cheeks a bright crimson. Perhaps the Highlander could count the cool weather as the culprit? She could only hope as she tried to use her will to overcome the unusual sensation.

  “Why are you here?” Ethan asked. His lack of manners did not surprise Ursula. The anger rising inside helped her find her voice.

  “Good sir, welcome to Fyvie Castle, the home of Clan MacPherson,” she offered and curtsied again out of sheer nervousness. Even though the laird was at least a half foot taller than Ethan and he wore a bearskin cape of the Highlands, she was not afraid. She was intrigued.

  Alasdair made the awkward bow again, and she imagined they could repeat the bows and curtsies a few more times as they ogled each other.

  “Why are you here?” Ethan repeated his question as if he was a soldier on the castle’s garrison and not the laird’s brother. A welcome greeting would have been more appropriate. But Ethan never did anything justly.

  “To meet with Lachlan MacPherson, the laird of this castle and keep,” Alasdair said good-naturedly, clearly ignoring Ethan’s snub. “The castle steward pointed to the parapets and said I’d find him here.”

  “This is his twin, Ethan,” Ursula blurted out, gesturing to him. “Shawn must have mistaken the two. It happens often.” Her explanation seemed reasonable.

  Ethan brushed by the laird. “Since you won’t be needing me, I’ll wish you a good day.” And with that, Ursula was left with the Highlander, her heart pounding and mind racing. An awkward silence followed while she stared at her feet.

  “You must have a name.”

  Her head shot up. “Ursula.”

  “English or Scot?”

  “English? Och! Nay! Clan Fraser.”

  Alasdair’s amusement was evident when he asked, “You donnae like the English?”

  “I donnae trust the English, that is for certain.”

  “Nor do I.”

  “We have quite a bit in common.” She paused, searching for what to say next.

  He came to the rescue. “You must have important matters to attend to,” he said, the burr of his words sounding like velvet. “Shall I escort you to the bailey?”

  “Och! Nay! ’Tis my error in not offering you escort. I-I-you,” she stuttered. While she’d been ogling the Highlander, her manners had abandoned her.

  An apologetic laugh rescued Ursula from saying more.

  “There you are.”

  Ursula spun around to find Lachlan behind her, and she quickly curtsied.

  Lachlan tossed her a look as if she’d gone too far, but he acknowledged her gesture with a curt nod.

  “Lair MacLeod of Dunvegan, I presume?”

  “Aye, mi lord, I have an urgent message from our king.”

  The two hurried off in the direction of the great hall, leaving Ursula shaking her head in frustration.

  Tongue-tied, and as daft as a simpleton, Ursula had missed the perfect opportunity. If only she’d had enough wits about her, she would have asked the Highlander of Sky Isle how to find the illusive guelder rose.

  Chapter 6

  Later that evening, Ursula sat at the head table, dressed in a plum velvet gown. The golden headpiece she wore sparkled with jewels. Simple but regal. Her pale, porcelain breasts, round and proud, were propped up by the crisscrossed laced bodice. Ethan salivated as if she were his feast.

  As he walked toward her, he imagined his hands tangled in the dark tresses that tumbled around her shoulders, framing her breasts. A pear-shaped, amethyst pendent hung between her rounded flesh, as if nesting. He yearned to gather that necklace in his hands and brush his fingers through the silky, smooth valley that held it in place.

  Only when he stepped up to the dais, taking the empty chair beside her, did Ethan finally raise his gaze to meet hers.

  She blushed, his ogling obvious.

  Ethan reached for her hand and brushed the top of it with a light kiss. Then raising his head, he asked, “Everything all right, my lady?”

  Ursula turned a shade of crimson. What a rare sight, this dark damsel blossoming into an exotic flower. Her once pale skin glowing as if lit by an unseen source.

  A slap on the back shattered the moment. Ethan’s sensuous gaze with the devilish beauty disintegrated.

  “The saffron-laced soup will be out momentarily, but before you begin your meal, I need to talk with you both,” Lachlan said, nodding toward the castle’s kitchen door.

  After begrudgingly following his brother to the doorway, Ethan ducked underneath a heavy platter laden with soup bowls as a servant exited the kitchen.

  “What has gotten into you, brother? Not enough help in the kitchen, so you must recruit us?” Ethan said as he rolled up one sleeve in jest.

  Lachlan responded by punching Ethan’s arm like he had when they’d been lads.

  Cursing, Ethan grabbed his stinging arm. His gaze caught Ursula’s, and she rolled her eyes.

  “Of course, I’d rather we talk in a more private place,” Lachlan said as he walked toward the worktable in the center, “but I must make a formal announcement at dinner, and I need your allegiance now.”

  Fear. The face Lachlan wore when he’d faced his father. Et
han sobered.

  “Last night, three more cottages at the outer edge of Aberdeenshire were set to fire.”

  Ursula covered her gasp, but her eyes bugged wide above her trembling, pale hand.

  “As the new laird, I’ve had meetings with the outlying clans regularly, but one clan, the Keiths, have refused to send representation.” Lachlan drew closer to Ethan and Ursula. “My hope is to keep news of this from reaching Rosalyn.”

  “Gossips are everywhere,” Ursula said, her expression somber. “I shall speak to her maid and ask that she cut off any wagging tongues.”

  Lachlan’s gaze narrowed on Ursula.

  “Figuratively speaking,” she clarified. “I agree that we should keep this from Rosalyn, considering her condition.”

  They both looked to Ethan.

  “You have my word,” he promised with his hand over his heart.

  “Spare me the theatrics,” Lachlan said. “But more important than this, I have a secret request.”

  But just as Lachlan was about to explain, the serving staff returned, forcing them into the corner by the mops and brooms.

  Undeterred, Lachlan pressed on with a hushed desperation. “Yesterday I received a missive from King James, delivered by a Highlander from Skye Isle. In the letter, the king laid out the rules of forfeiture. If I cannot control the uprising clans, particularly the Keiths, Fyvie Castle will no longer belong to the MacPhersons.”

  Ursula gasped.

  The news was dire for Lachlan. The implications were staggering. As much as he disliked his twin, Ethan was concerned about Rosalyn. She had just won Fyvie back. Losing the castle would devastate her.

  “You must bring back the Faery Flag from the Isle of Skye to secure our claim,” Lachlan offered as a solution.

  Ethan balked at the suggestion. “You do not believe in that fable. No, this is a ruse,” Ethan said, turning to enter the great hall again until Lachlan grabbed his arm and jerked him back.

  “I have never been more serious in my life,” Lachlan promised through gritted teeth, the look of fear clearly evident.

  Before Ethan could challenge his brother further, Ursula chimed in. “’Tis not a fable. ’Tis true,” she insisted, taking Ethan’s hand. The gesture sent pulses of pleasure through his arm, softening his demeanor, but not his cock. It went rock hard.

  Damn, what that she-devil does to me. I cannot control it.

  “Whether you believe or you do not,” Lachlan said, directing his words toward Ethan. “You owe me for the loss of Eilean Donan Castle, and as the new ruler, you should be able to demand the flag be presented to you.”

  “Even if it exits, how will I demand it?” Ethan asked. If his brother did not look so pale, he wouldn’t have believed his request.

  “Rosalyn said it exists and ’tis hidden somewhere on Skye Isle,” Lachlan offered, his eyes wide.

  Ethan huffed. “Did you ask the Highlander who delivered the missive?”

  Lachlan looked embarrassed, and for once in a long while, Ethan felt sorry for his brother.

  “He laughed when I asked him about it,” his twin admitted.

  When Ethan did not respond immediately, Ursula glanced at him, then squeezed the hand she was still holding as if to offer a truce. Sadly, her attention went back Lachlan’s way too quickly.

  “We are traveling to the isle for the guelder rose. Regardless, I will search out the Faery Flag. You have my word,” Ursula said. “Besides, I’ll be among the faeries, and they will validate the flag or swear it off.”

  “I knew I could count on you, Ursula,” Lachlan said, glaring at Ethan.

  But Ethan turned his cheek to Lachlan and gave his attention to Ursula. “My job is to get her there safely. I do not talk to faeries.”

  “You do nae know their language anyway,” she responded.

  Lachlan seemed satisfied by Ursula’s promises, yet Ethan could tell there was more. But he was distracted by Ursula’s touch and his stomach. The soup smelled delicious, and he was famished.

  “Hear me out. The last is yet to be told.” Lachlan took in a labored breath. “I must send you both alone. James has been called back to Windsor.” He turned to Ursula. “If you refuse to travel with Ethan by yourself, I will respect you for that. He owes me, you do not.”

  “I owe your wife. And in turn, I owe you.” She blushed that crimson color Ethan thought was only for him.

  “Neither Rosalyn, nor I, would ever make a request that could put you in harm’s way.” Lachlan glanced at Ethan. “My brother is usually more talk than action, but I will have his word that he will treat you with honor. As much as I’d want to send a few of my knights with you, unfortunately, they must stay here to safeguard the castle and surrounding shires. I have little to offer.”

  “I’m willing to make the journey myself”—Ursula huffed and dropped Ethan’s hand—“but everyone believes I need protection.”

  Lachlan chuckled and put an arm around Ursula’s shoulder. “You’ve become a sister to my wife and a sister to me. Neither one of us underestimate you.”

  And with that, Lachlan turned her around and gestured toward the kitchen door, leading them back into the great hall, Ethan on their heels as he muttered under his breath, “Lachlan was troubled?” Nothing could please him more.

  ~ ~ ~

  The butterflies in Ursula’s belly distracted her as she sat at the head table in the great hall after Lachlan’s news was announced. He had explained to the Fyvie courtesans the need for James’s return to Windsor and increased security in the shires.

  Ursula wasn’t anxious about getting Ethan to drink the potion-laced wine. She’d chosen the plum velvet dress tonight specifically to distract him with the low-cut neckline and scandalous fit. But could it be she felt something stir inside her after she’d taken his hand?

  Ursula shook her head. No, even though he was handsome and sometimes charming, she still found him repulsive. Heat from the kitchen must have wilted her defenses for a moment. She willed herself to fight the urge to surrender to her emotions.

  Although she expected Ethan to join her after the meal and the tables had been cleared, Ursula remained alone at the head table. She glanced over her shoulder, not surprised to find the twins still in a heated discussion by the servants’ table outside the kitchen.

  Ethan had promised to share wine with her after the meal. Yet she was thankful for the current distraction. It gave her the opportunity to add the potion to Ethan’s goblet under the table now that the great hall was empty.

  While the twins continued debating her future, Ursula muddled through her thoughts and emotions alone. As she considered the comments Ethan had made in the kitchen, she was taken aback by what he had said about the famous flag.

  Even though she had not let on to Lachlan, Ursula was well versed in its powers and was surprised Ethan had dismissed its existence so quickly. Perhaps he knew even more about it than she did? He had lived near Skye Isle and should have been familiar with its reputation.

  She sighed. Oh, the stories her mother had told of the Faery Flag, Am Bratch Sith. When Ursula had been a wee lass of three summers, sitting on her mother’s lap after taking a big tumble, she’d been distracted from the pain by a square of yellow cloth her mother brought out from a jeweled-covered box. It was the softest, silkiest material she had ever touched. So small it had fit in the middle of her child-sized palm.

  With wet eyes, Ursula had looked into her mother’s face and thought the fabric to be special. “A faerie trade, a piece of the magical Faery Flag,” her mother had told her.

  “Dreaming of me?”

  Ursula bolted upright and spun to her left to find Ethan with his chin propped up on his arm as he leaned on the trestle table and grinned at her as if he had already consumed his wine.

  Instead of answering h
im, she scooped up her goblet brimming with mead.

  Ethan mimicked her, raising his goblet, the altered wine sloshing over the rim and onto the table.

  “To a successful journey. May we bring back the guelder rose for Rosalyn and the Faery Flag for Lachlan,” Ursula said.

  “May I find a way into your heart,” Ethan said over the top of the dark liquid. Then he tipped his head back and drained the goblet of its contents.

  Her heart skipped a beat, and the butterflies returned. No, not Ethan, she told herself as he remained grinning like a fool at her over the empty cup. She only had to remind herself how he had treated his twin to realize he was not a man to give her heart to. In the meantime, she would tame him, so she could trust him.

  “Have you nae learned anything in my company?” She gave him a piercing stare. “I break hearts, and so do you.”

  Ethan’s head tipped back, and his laugher filled the air. “You may never love me, but you have met your match, Ursula, the dark witch.”

  “I shall take that as a compliment, for I do nae want to be coddled.”

  He raised one brow. “What about cuddling?”

  Her back stiffened, and she remembered they still had rules to discuss.

  “Rule Number One. Obey all my rules.”

  Ethan nodded obediently. Perhaps the potion was already working? If not the concoction, the goblet of mead was making an impact.

  “Rule Number Two. Do not do anything I ask you not to do.”

  “Is that not a trick question?” he asked but seemed agreeable.

  Powerful potion. Perhaps she should let Lachlan in on her secret. On second thought, the less anyone knew about her potion skills, the better.

  “Agreed. Only two rules, that makes it easy to remember,” he replied, grinning.

  Clearly, he was under and would stay so for at least four days. Aye, she was thankful for the strength of the concoction. Any emotion-controlling potion had to last at least that long. Especially love potions. Wedding proposals and the like were events that could not be rushed, unless there was an angry father at the helm.