She crossed her arms in front of her chest and sat back, quite satisfied with herself. Perhaps she could speak to him now about the Faery Flag with more cooperation.
“You said in the kitchen that you did not believe in the Faery Flag. Was that for Lachlan’s sake, or did you mean it?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “Eilean Donan was my home for seven years. Was the Faery Flag a legend? As a young boy my mother would speak of it,” he said with heavy lids, eyes dropping and words slurring.
Could the side effects of the potion and the wine together serve as a short-term truth serum? This man whose thoughts were blocked to her might prove to be readable after all. If not, she would get her answers through her questioning.
“What did you learn about the myth of the Faery Flag when you lived at Donan? Even if you did nae believe, you must have heard about it?” Now it was her turn to prop her head on her hand and give her full attention to him.
Ethan cocked a grin and leaned back into his massive chair, the great hall empty except for a few servants sweeping the floor.
He stared past her, as if looking back farther than he had in a very long time. As if he was opening a closed door to his memories.
“It’s been said that the fourth MacLeod clan chief of Dunvegan married a faerie with whom he had a son,” Ethan said as if describing a dream. “On the boy’s first birthday, the faerie told her husband, Iain, that she could no longer live with the mortals and must return to the faeries.
“Iain loved her and asked her to stay, begging her to help him raise their son. But it was not to be.” His gaze shifted back to hers. “As father and son followed her to the border of the faerie glen to say their goodbyes, she rose above them on her wings and dropped a piece of yellow silk, saying, ‘Keep this flag and unfurl it to the wind whenever you are in real danger, and it will protect you.’”
He blinked hard, as if he might be saddened by the tale. “Then she was gone, never to be seen again.”
“Never?” Ursula asked through a sigh, closing her eyes. The story was heartbreaking. After all the birthings and the special bond created between a mother and child she had witnessed, she couldn’t imagine having to leave a child behind.
She opened her eyes, and her breath caught from Ethan staring at her longingly.
“Never is a very long time in faerie tales,” he muttered in a dreamy kind of way.
Ursula chuckled. Now she had the lore.
Chapter 7
Powerful magic, it has been said, could be conjured by the bearer of the Faery Flag. Ursula was not interested in sharing all she knew about the flag’s properties, and as far as she could detect, Ethan had told her all he knew.
The potion had started working immediately after he’d guzzled it down. No doubt the rate at which he drank the sweet wine easily counted as an excuse for his loose tongue. But after they both lingered at the table and became the last ones to leave the great hall, she was convinced she would lose her heart to him if his was not naturally black.
She knocked softly before entering Rosalyn’s chamber, smiling at the compliment Ethan had given her when they parted. He’d said it in Gaelic, which had surprised her.
But considering he’d lived near the Isle of Skye for seven summers as a young lad, he would have had to learn the old language to survive.
“How am I to survive? That is what you should be worrying upon,” Rosalyn said so loudly Ursula was certain anyone in the outer corridor would have heard her.
“Shhhhh!” Ursula scolded. “You do nae want all of Fyvie Castle to hear my private thoughts.” Then she walked over to her sister of the heart and laid a hand on Rosalyn’s bulging belly. “You’re concerning me now.”
“That I can hear your thoughts or because of my rapidly expanding girth?” Rosalyn smiled despite her discomfort.
“Both,” Ursula said before she thought better of it. “You should be asleep.”
“I cannae sleep thinking that you will be sleeping with Ethan in the woods, and I shall be at least a sennight without you,” Rosalyn moaned like a child.
“At least you did nae say that at the top of your lungs,” Ursula said softly, tsk-tsking after. “I willnae be sleeping with Ethan. Wipe that vision from your thoughts right now,” she said through gritted teeth, placing her hands on her hips.
Rosalyn let out a huff. “You clearly know what I meant.”
She studied the woman who had given her a home at her darkest hour. Rosalyn’s fiery, auburn hair suited her passionate personality. Her blazing amber-hued eyes burned like hot embers while she tried to get comfortable lying in the bed with a belly full of not one, but two babes.
Ursula reached for a pillow at the other side of the headboard. “Here,” she offered, “turn on your side and rest your belly on top of this.” She pushed the soft feathers inside the casing around until it created a nesting spot for Rosalyn’s belly. “There,” she said, finally satisfied and stepping back.
When her friend let out a long sigh, Ursula took it as her cue to get to work on the evening herb mixture. A pinch of cat’s claw and boswella, with white willow bark, would numb Rosalyn’s discomfort and give her a much needed rest.
“Ursula, you cannae leave me.” The words came out like a whimper.
“Hush now,” she said, choking back her own emotion. “I will teach your maid and Lachlan how to make the mixture.”
“’Tis more than that.”
“I would nae be leaving without a plan,” she said as she glanced at Rosalyn and gave her a reassuring smile.
“Do nae smile at me and think that will placate me,” Rosalyn said.
Ursula frowned, and that made Rosalyn laugh loudly. “You are more beautiful when you smile.”
Ursula ignored the compliment. “I mean that I have found my replacement. A woman in the village named Thea. She is a distant cousin,” Ursula explained as she walked with the potion to join Rosalyn on the bed. “And I trust her,” Ursula said, taking a seat.
Rosalyn looked at her with doe eyes. “Tell me again why Ethan cannae do this deed for you?”
Ursula hesitated to answer. She struggled with how much to share. Finally, she decided some of it had to come out. Taking her arm behind Rosalyn’s neck, she directed her forward so she could easily drink the potion.
After a few long sips, her friend rested back on her side, and Ursula scooched over to smooth back the stray, wild, red bangs that were forever falling into Rosalyn’s eyes.
“Ethan would never find the faeries on his own,” Ursula said softly, stroking her friend’s brow.
“You do nae believe he can find the guelder rose you seek without the faeries?”
Ursula threw her head back and cackled. “You do nae know faeries.”
Rosalyn’s eyes flashed with a spark of competitiveness, despite her encumbered position. With a huff, she said, “Ursula, you’re nae the only one in the room who’s talked to the Fae.”
“In Faery speak or Gaelic?”
“Och, they have their own language?”
“Aye, and this is why I must go.” Ursula put her finger to Rosalyn’s lips when she appeared to protest. “Faeries can be quite evil when they want to be. I’ve known them to lie and lead mortals off into caves never to be seen again.”
“Well, Lachlan was looking for a way to rid himself of Ethan,” Rosalyn admitted with a look of hope in her eyes, but she frowned, too, as if conflicted. “But there would be no one to bring back the flower . . .”
“Unless I go.”
“Go.”
“There does not appear to be another way.”
“Unless, Lachlan goes with you . . .”
“That is inviting trouble. If the rebel clans get wind of Lachlan’s departure and your incapacitation, you could have an uprising on your hands.�
��
“I already invited trouble when I agreed to Ethan’s escorting you. But that was before James was called away,” she added wistfully, as if having a Garter knight at Ursula’s stead had given Rosalyn peace.
“He’s nae far and will respond if needed. Lachlan has James’s word. And a Garter knight’s word is as important as his life.”
The potion must have started to work because Rosalyn’s eyelids were drooping.
“He’s nae far. That should give me some comfort,” Rosalyn said, then raised her head. “I almost forgot. Did you poison Ethan?”
Poison? Ursula struggled to keep from laughing. In the past that would not have been funny, because she had tried, with good reason. Not permanently. Well, that was another story.
Ursula choked on a giggle before she said, “You mean, did I give him a potion to make him into someone he’s not?”
“If you could change his black heart to gold, that would be a miracle. But aye, I meant have you changed him for the better, even if temporarily?”
Now it was Ursula’s turn to be wistful. If she could change Ethan permanently, would she? ’Twould be a noble cause. Make the world a better place.
Rosalyn murmured something Ursula could not make out. As sleepy as her friend was, she must have been reading her thoughts. “Too bad you cannae make it for keeps,” Rosalyn mumbled more clearly as she appeared to nod off, but then her friend perked up again. “But how will the Faery Flag help you?”
“What?”
“The yellow flag,” she asked as if she was talking in her sleep. “Why must you bring it back?”
“Sleep, Rosalyn,” she soothed. “You are dreaming about faeries. Those are nae my thoughts.”
“Well, I better wake up because dreaming of Ethan in my bed would be a nightmare.”
Ursula chuckled as her friend finally succumbed to sleep. She tucked Rosalyn in as best she could, grateful that she had not let on about the attacks. She’d come too close in the heated moment and almost gave away the reason for the flag.
Ursula walked over to the extra bed that had been brought in for her. Lachlan had moved out a sennight ago. Between Rosalyn’s flailing and his undeniable snoring, neither were getting any rest.
Besides, even though they were newly married, any natural inclinations to rutting were discouraged and, furthermore, could be damaging.
Initially, Lachlan snorted and stomped about like a lusty bull, but Rosalyn was able to get her way.
As if on cue, after a light knock outside the chamber, Lachlan’s grinning face appeared between the jamb and the door.
“Where’s my love?” he asked sweetly into the warm and darkened bedroom. The hearth was burning low, giving off long shadows that reached to the ceiling. The embers emitted plenty of heat but not much light as they glowed, giving the sleeping beauty an ethereal coloring as she lay facing the warmth.
Almost tipping in on his toes, Lachlan moved his feet with exaggerated movements, knees drawing high with each step, as he walked with care across the chamber to Rosalyn’s side.
“Ah,” he said as he bent to one knee and took one of her hands in his. “Here’s my love.”
Rosalyn let out a sleepy groan and batted her lashes, but that was all she could muster for Lachlan under the influence of Ursula’s concoction.
Lachlan harrumphed and hung his head, no doubt disappointed she was so sleepy.
After a few long moments, Ursula cleared her throat, and Lachlan’s spine stiffened. He reached for the hilt of his sword.
“’Tis only me,” Ursula whispered with a shaky breath.
“I’m grateful for that,” Lachlan answered back in his own whisper, releasing his hold on the weapon.
She rubbed her throat absentmindedly. Having been called a witch much of her life, Ursula had become accustom to being misunderstood.
Lachlan stood, giving his wife a last glance before he strode across the chamber to where Ursula sat on the edge of her bed. He had carried the stool with him and set it down beside her.
She smiled broadly. They’d always gotten along, both hating his twin. She’d been protective of Rosalyn and wary of Lachlan until he saved her friend’s life more than once.
Lachlan and Ethan were identical twins. And before Rosalyn had fallen in love with Lachlan, she’d been wary of both men. They were half English, and neither Rosalyn nor Ursula had ever trusted the English.
Lachlan scattered her thoughts when he took her hand in his like a gentleman would a royal. “My lady, Ursula.” He bowed his head slightly over her hand. “You know more than you say. This I’ve observed over many weeks. ’Tis your eyes that give you away,” he admitted, letting go of her hand and sitting back to study her.
Ursula’s grin turned smug. She, too, had observed Lachlan over many weeks, and he’d become like a brother to her.
“When you know more than you should, your eyes become glittery dark pits where observations go to be cataloged.”
Her smugness disappeared because there was truth in his words.
“And you, brother, know more than you reveal.”
Amusement sparked in his eyes. “Is there no way for me to keep secrets from you?”
His question was provocative. She cocked a brow. Should she tell him the truth?
After a long silence, Lachlan waved an imaginary flag over his head as if to surrender.
“The Faery Flag,” she said, knowing what was on his lips.
“Aye, you do have a gift.”
“Some would say a curse.”
“A cursed gift, and I must mind my thoughts.”
She gave her head a brisk shake. “’Tis almost impossible to control your thoughts.” She blinked, and a soft spot in her heart ached, as did his, for they both loved Rosalyn. “Aye, I fear for her, too,” she reluctantly confessed.
After an awkward moment of silence, Ursula took his hand. “I would nae be leaving her unless I was certain it was the right thing to do,” she admitted, and before he had time to object, she said, “I have a healer from the village ready to take my place. She’s verra smart, and I trust her.”
Lachlan relaxed his shoulders and squeezed her hand before letting go. “I hate to admit it, but I trust you.”
She nodded, happy she would not need to argue with him.
“But I do not trust my brother.”
“Trust me there, too.”
Lachlan studied her like an art object, tilting his chin up as if inspecting her intentions, turning his head from side to side. She would have laughed out loud if Rosalyn had been awake.
Ursula started to speak, but Lachlan put his finger against her lips. “My turn to read you.”
She crossed her arms, about ready to tell him she was like a book and he should read the disgusted look on her face to know what she was thinking.
He chuckled. “You shall do what you want regardless of what I say.”
Ursula’s mouth snapped into a taut pucker, and she let out a tight little laugh, too, embarrassed he’d gotten it exactly right.
“Good guess,” she muttered, not wanting to give him any satisfaction. Clearly, her face had said what her mind was thinking.
“I know you have put a spell on Ethan. And I trust you know what you are doing. The flower and the flag can only be found by you and released to you by the faeries.”
Her spine straightened, and she peered at Lachlan through one squinted eye as she turned her head to one side, surprised again that he was so spot on.
“We need the flag because we cannot fail.” He swallowed hard. “I cannot fail my wife or the clans.”
She nodded.
“I can only hope it has at least one unfurling left.”
Rosalyn yawned and mumbled, “Bring back the Faery Flag for Fyvie.”
<
br /> Ursula shuddered. It was up to her to save them all.
Chapter 8
Ursula faced west, her back warmed by the rising sun as Ethan checked his destrier’s foreleg. The warhorse had limped slightly when it walked from the stables moments ago, saddled and ready for the journey to Skye Isle.
Rising from his crouched position, Ethan ran his gloved hand down the chestnut’s withers. His warhorse was a magnificent steed, muscles rolling under a supple coat, but a bit standoffish like Ethan.
“Any idea what’s troubling Bayard?” Ursula asked, anxious to start the day’s ride and hoping they would not be delayed. They had a ship to catch.
“We’ve weathered many rough roads and smooth cobblestones together,” he admitted, lovingly stroking the horse’s mane. “He’s my confidant, companion, family. For when no one else would stand by me, Bayard would.”
Ursula understood what it was like to be an outcast. She wished she could say the same as he about her palfrey, Tempest. But she had more of a connection to plants than animals. She talked to her herbs when she made potions. They were a comfort, for she could count on their results to build her confidence.
“Come, come, beast,” Ethan said in a soothing way, “you may not quit your service to your master now.” Taking a ripe, red apple from his saddle’s satchel, Ethan offered the sweet treat to his horse. “You have a few more good years left in you, and now is not your time to pasture.”
Raising his massive, majestic head, the warhorse snorted. Its gaze seemed to drift to the pasture for a moment before he shook his head from side to side as if to agree his time was not now.
“Aye,” Ethan said, hoisting himself into the saddle and taking the reins from the groomsman. “You have the heart of a champion. Heart over head will win every time.”
The Secret of Skye Isle Page 5