The Secret of Skye Isle

by Dillon, Marisa

  Ethan rode his warhorse to the track by the stables and put him into a gentle trot. Ursula followed. She’d need her mount soon, too.

  After a few rounds, the warhorse behaved as if he’d never taken a faltering step. His ears stood at attention, nostrils flared, and he pawed the ground like he wanted to race.

  Once it appeared the horse’s confidence had returned, Ethan took Bayard into a full gallop around the track. Looking satisfied once he’d finished the exercise, Ethan steered his horse toward the gate where Ursula stood.

  She took a few hurried steps backward when Ethan reined his warhorse into an abrupt stop in front of her instead of passing by.

  She tilted her head up and eyed him suspiciously. “Will you mow me down before the journey has started?” She shook one finger at him. “Did you nae promise to protect me on our journey to Skye?”

  “Testing your mettle.” Then he grinned at her. “You look beautiful.”

  She spat on the ground.

  “Less beautiful now.”

  “Good,” she said, turning her back on him and walking toward the stables, expecting him to follow. “There’s been a change of plans,” she said tersely. At the very least she hoped the potion would not only make him less devious, it would make him more agreeable to her suggestions. Now was the time to test it.

  With her back still to him, she said, “Lachlan has come up with a way to cut our journey’s time in half.” When his reply was only silence, she turned to face him and stopped. “We will travel to Inverness by ship with Rosalyn’s Uncle Quinn. Conveniently, he’ll be making a trip to that Highland port for a wool exchange.”

  “The sea and I do not agree,” Ethan said.

  She hid a smirk. “I have a potion for that.”

  “Of course you do.” Ethan’s face twitched as if he wanted to say something disconcerting, but he did not.

  “I shall make it taste like your favorite food,” she offered, hoping to get the confirmation she needed and get past his reluctance. At least he hadn’t refused.

  “Mince pie?”

  She stifled a laugh. “Aye, I can make the potion taste like pie.”

  “For my warhorse, too? He and the sea, neither agree.”

  This time she did chuckle. “Apple flavor for Bayard?” She clapped her hands together. “Consider it done,” she promised, then turned when she heard her name called.

  Lachlan and Rosalyn were approaching, followed by the groomsman with Tempest. They would have a short ride to the harbor before they would board the ship.

  Lachlan was guiding his wife with care by her elbow. Ursula watched Rosalyn with compassion as she hobbled toward her, pleased Lachlan had come up with the amended path for the journey to Skye.

  As they talked late into the night yester eve while Rosalyn slept, Lachlan had outlined the plan for the new itinerary. Although Ursula had not sailed much, she was willing to make adjustments to shorten travel time.

  When the group reached them, Ursula rushed to Rosalyn and began to fuss.

  “Out of bed?” She shook her head in frustration. “I’ve yet to leave the castle grounds, and you’re already misbehaving?” She wagged a finger at Lachlan, and her brows scrunched together. “You must not let her manipulate you.”

  Lachlan shrugged sheepishly, while Rosalyn looked guiltlessly at him. The two were so perfect for each other in their own imperfect ways. Ursula dared not to dream she would ever have a love like theirs, for she was a mix of Fae and Highlander. Magic and mist. Born to heal, not to be loved.

  Well, Joshua had professed his love for her, but she’d never been able to test it like these two had. That was another story.

  She sighed before she spit words again. “This time is the last time. No more walking for you, lassie.” Despite her terse tone, Ursula gave her pregnant friend one last hug with all the love and tenderness she could muster.

  Once Ursula released the sisterly embrace, Rosalyn’s eyes clouded with tears. Ursula forced her own tears back with a trembling grin and bit her lip to steady it before she reiterated her warning. “A walk to the privy or to the window, not much more than that.”

  Rosalyn pouted and looked up at Lachlan. He patted her hand. “You know Ursula will be able to use some kind of magic to spy on you, so I suggest you agree to do her bidding.”

  Lachlan glanced over and grinned before he said, “Ursula has a way of getting her way.”

  Everyone laughed, even the groomsman, although he did his best to hide it as he gave Ursula a boost up to her saddle.

  “Nothing will keep me from getting my way, that’s for certain,” Ursula promised.

  After the last tearful wave goodbye, Rosalyn turned toward her beloved castle, and Ursula coaxed her palfrey in the other direction toward the gate.

  Ethan’s warhorse fell in step beside Tempest, and they traveled side by side through the castle gate and out to the surrounding glen toward Petershead, where they’d meet Rosalyn’s Uncle Quinn and later board his ship.

  She hadn’t intended to silence him but gave the potion credit for the pleasant half-day journey to the coastal town.

  The hours rolled by, peacefully and uneventful. Although Ursula was pleased with the dramatic change in his persona, from the potion she’d concocted, the elixir did not break down the wall that blocked his thoughts. Perhaps he didn’t have any?

  She laughed out loud at the idea of Ethan having an empty head as they came through the clearing into Petershead late that afternoon.

  “This pub here will do,” Ursula said, pointing to the first building on the town’s outskirts. “For a strong ale to wash away the taste of the road.”

  Ethan reined in his horse and waited until Ursula caught up with him. “Why stop and delay when we have ale with us?”

  She didn’t want to appear weak when she’d promised Ethan she could travel like a man, but all she wanted right now was a basin of fresh water to wash away some of the road grime, and to quench her thirst with a cool drink, not the warm liquid they carried in the goatskin pouches. She had more dust in her throat and eyes than a wayward sheep.

  “If you were a woman, Ethan, you would nae ask that question,” she sputtered.

  Ethan grinned. What a handsome man he was when he smiled.

  “I thank God every day I am not a woman,” he said in his own straightforward way. But he gave her a wink and said, “Ursula, you refrained from nagging while we traveled today, and for that I shall grant you a respite before we push on to the harbor.”

  She kept her snide reply to herself and just nodded in agreement before she spurred her palfrey forward toward the tavern.

  It was not long before they had dismounted and were standing in the welcoming entryway with their traveling satchels. They were greeted by a man with eyes the color of the bluest sea and skin like tanned leather.

  “Welcome ye now to the Crooked Billet,” he offered with a bow while leaning slightly on a carved walking stick. “Name’s Finn. Who do I have the pleasure of making an acquaintance?” he asked, straightening up.

  Ursula had not thought about accommodations and needing separate rooms. But before she had a chance to explain, Ethan blurted out, “Good sir, we are newlyweds on our way to Inverness to celebrate. Taking a coastal voyage, rather than land travel, seemed more romantic, so please show us to your best room before we are seabound on the morrow.”

  Ursula grunted under her breath but smiled through gritted teeth. Could the potion be wearing off? Although she expected it to assist her with Ethan’s wanton ways, apparently it could not produce miracles.

  Without protest, she and Ethan followed Finn up the narrow steps, then down a long hallway to its end. Stepping through a doorway on the right, he motioned them inside.

  Ursula sucked in a sharp breath. The room was beautiful, with
a fire burning in the hearth and walls paneled in timber. Ornately carved furniture and red woolen plaid bedding made the room a warm and cozy retreat. Although Fyvie Castle was well-appointed, there was nothing cozy about it.

  Ursula sighed when she noticed the wash basin under the charming window that was framed by drapes in the same plaid that covered the bed. All she wanted now was a wash and a nap in that bed. Ethan could go down to the pub or the wharf. She did not care if he sailed off without her.

  “Perfect,” she said to Finn.

  “It will do,” mumbled Ethan, perhaps undone by the charm of the place. She was happy after all to have a comfortable bed before they embarked.

  Finn nodded. “With the room comes dinner or breakfast. Should ye be needing either?”

  “Dinner,” they answered in unison.

  Thinking about the journey ahead, Ursula came to realize how easy life at Fyvie had been the past few months. No doubt Rosalyn’s uncle would see to her welfare, but her sister of the heart had warned her about the food aboard the Merry Maiden.

  Ethan gave Finn a few shillings, and after a handshake, the proprietor left.

  Once the door closed, Ethan leaned against it and raked his eyes over her with a devilish grin. “Why fight me, when you can love me?”

  Why? Why hadn’t she insisted on separate rooms? His charisma made her knees weak. Tall, dark, and charming, but with a madness that was disturbing, Ethan contradicted proper behavior with his actions. Erratic and erotic, he was tempting like an exotic warlock with spellcasting powers.

  While she stood there spellbound, he was on her, kissing around her ear, his one hand splayed across her arse.

  Her only defense? To scream.

  Chapter 9

  As one might expect, the proprietor was at their door in moments, asking if everything was all right.

  “You misjudged me again,” Ethan whispered to her harshly, then yanked open the door to greet a confused-looking Finn.

  “My wife thought she saw a rat,” he explained, shrugging his shoulders with his back to Ursula, “but it was this black rock you have here to hold the door open.”

  Finn laughed, looking down at the rock. “We keep a tidy tavern, you know. Not likely you’ll be finding any varmints in your room.”

  “She’s a fragile one, and the road travel has her on edge,” Ethan offered. “Down to the harbor for me to see the ships while she rests,” he told Finn, joining him in the hall and closing the door behind, leaving Ursula alone.

  She took in a big sigh. Ursula hated to admit that Ethan’s advances, although inappropriate, were thrilling. Yet, she scolded herself for accepting the momentary pleasure. She was above primal urges and had more pressing personal needs.

  Relieved to be alone for a while, Ursula wasted no time in finding her way to the wash basin, delighted to find the pitcher full. She poured about half of its contents into the sky-blue and white patterned porcelain bowl, then dipped a soft linen cloth into the cool liquid.

  After twisting the excess water out, she closed her eyes and ran the cloth up one side of her neck, around her face, and down the other, sighing all the way. The water was delightful. But the rest of her body demanded attention.

  Without a care, she opened her eyes and bent down for the hem of her travel dress, then yanked the stifling fabric over her head. Shaking her long locks free, she let the dress fall to the floor.

  Ursula stretched both hands above her head and gazed out the window facing the woods, certain a few moments without the restrictive, overly warm garment would be worth the risk. A gentle breeze drifted in, kissing her bare skin. But just as she reached for the cloth again, a sharp whistle sailed through the window.

  “Och! Nay.” Ursula ducked, covering her breasts, mortified when she spied Ethan ogling her through the window.

  She screamed and threw the cloth at him before ducking below the sill.

  How could she be so foolish? But Ethan’s behavior? Juvenile. Another catcall like that and half the men in the sleepy, seaside town would be outside her window.

  Even though her potion had altered Lachlan’s twin to her liking, the spell clearly had its limitations.

  Aye, he had a good look. This risk that went awry would either appease Ethan for a while or send him into an obsessive pursuit.

  Why had she been so careless?

  Ursula snatched a fresh dress from her travel satchel. Once the hem hit the stone floor, she breathed a sigh of relief, rushed to the door, and turned the key in the lock.

  Stepping slowly backward, Ursula trained her eyes on the door, wondering if he’d come back to make intimate demands.

  After a few moments, she walked to the window to peer out.

  Gone. And with that realization, she collapsed on the soft bed and closed her eyes.

  ~ ~ ~

  After seeing Ursula in the window and catching an eyeful of her natural, naked beauty, Ethan walked toward the main road in a daze.

  Where was he going?

  But the early evening breeze cleared Ethan’s head somewhat, as he stumbled along for a while until he remembered his plan to find the Merry Maiden.

  Yes, Ethan was anxious to take a powerful position in the Scottish Highlands, and the journey to Kyle of Lochalsh could secure it. As the son of a Scot and a Brit, he’d been called a bastard by most. Not that he cared, as long as he could take command and demand the respect he deserved.

  ’Twas so many years ago when his mother died at Eilean Donan, while his father ruled from his English castle during the War of the Roses. For reasons Ethan didn’t understand, his father delayed his return six months after her death.

  Even then, Nicholas did not mourn her passing, his final words about her death still haunting Ethan. You delivered me from evil.

  “Deliver me from evil.” The words were whispered in his ear.

  Ethan spun around.

  While lost in thought about his past, Ethan hadn’t noticed where he had walked. To his right, the ocean was in view, but he’d need to walk a bit farther to reach the wharf.

  To his left was a church. Even though the action went against his instincts, he strode in as if he belonged, as if something or someone was guiding him.

  Ethan took a seat on an empty bench, closed his eyes, and wondered when he’d last set foot in a place of God. Lachlan’s wedding?

  “You need not be in God’s house for him to be with you.”

  Ethan turned around in his seat. He twisted back the other way, then faced the altar again. He blinked quickly a few times, listening. Was that a woman’s voice?

  “Do not be afraid.”

  It was a woman’s voice, and it sounded strangely familiar.

  “I am not afraid,” he answered back, expecting a nun or acolyte to step out of the shadows after having pulled a clever ruse on an outsider.

  “Good. For I am with you always.”

  Is God a woman?

  “Ethan, I know it was an accident.”

  “Mother?” He sucked in a quick breath and spun around in his seat again. “Show yourself,” he demanded.

  To his surprise, a soft form began to materialize in front of the altar, and in mere moments, a woman floated before him.

  “Mother?” The ethereal figure matched Ethan’s memory—soft, warm, amber-colored eyes and long, golden hair about her shoulders. A faint halo hovered above her head.

  “Mother?” he asked again.

  “My son,” she whispered. “You have grown into a handsome lad. Aye, you have,” she said.

  Ethan wanted to rush to her. Hug her. Cry on her shoulder and tell her how sorry he was.

  “Nay, my son, ’tis not your fault. I never blamed you. For now I see you saved me from a more gruesome end. Your father was plotting my demise the day I ate th
e berries. He was going to have Rudolph end my life. I only became aware of the plan when I traveled to the other side, where thoughts are as loud as shouting voices and prayers are like angels singing.”

  Ethan stared at the image, not certain what to do or say. He could see through her. A cold chill raced up his spine. He could dismiss a mysterious voice, but this angelic form claiming to be his mother was quite another matter.

  “’Tis a lot to take in, my son. But there are rules in the other worlds, and well . . .” She hesitated. “Some debated you were not worth saving.”

  Ethan laughed. “No, spirit, most would say I’m not worth saving.” Some of his trepidation dissolved, for if this was not real, it was an elaborate hoax.

  The form moved toward Ethan, gliding over the slate floor. His smile faded, and he sat erect as the shape of a woman came toward him. When her hand reached for the top of his head, he shivered from a cool flick of air passing through him.

  “You are worth saving, and you have important work to do.”

  “Mother.” The scent of lilacs filled his nostrils, triggering his memory of her.

  Ethan bowed his head under the gentle pressure of her hand. She stroked his hair while a waterfall of genuine love poured over him.

  Ethan choked up. He wanted to ask her about the important work, but he could not find the words.

  “Ethan, life is not about owning land, but owning your actions. You are too much like your father,” she chided. “Still, you have the power to change.”

  Ethan shrugged his shoulders. “Sounds like a motherly thing to say.”

  When she glided away from him, Ethan could sense her touch leaving, creating a void. He looked up.

  “Ethan, my visit is not an accident. Somehow your heart has been softened enough to see me. I’ve been at your side all along, but you have not heard me.”

  The last words stung. She had been by his side all along? Aye, he’d been called black-hearted, even by Lachlan. Especially by Lachlan.