Princess Margret’s expression changed as she rubbed her hands together and let out a villainous laugh. “We shall invent her history.”
Ursula was beginning to admire this royal who wanted only the best for her son, and she was more willing than before to make an exception to her rules.
“I accept your request to make a potion that will pair Sid with a worthy Highland lass. However, we need to convince Alasdair and Ethan to stay in Inverness for the day once we dock.” Ursula frowned. “But we must also persuade the captain to host the wedding on his ship the same day.”
This was becoming more complicated than Ursula initially thought. They had to locate a willing bride in a hurry and coordinate the ceremony, all in a few hours shortly after they arrived at Inverness.
The princess clapped her hands together, snapping Ursula out of her negative thoughts. “As the second in line to the Scottish throne, I can demand a ceremony be held in my honor. By the time the captain realizes it’s a wedding ceremony for Sid, we’ll be too far gone for him to object.”
“That could work,” Ursula agreed, “but how do I convince Alasdair and Ethan to delay our journey to Eilean Donan Castle when they are traveling with me on an urgent matter?”
The older woman pointed to an ornate chest Ursula hadn’t noticed until now. “Inside the chest are pieces of gold. I shall promise five to each of the passengers on board to entice them to stay.”
Ursula coughed politely before she told the princess why that would not work. “Mi lady, five pieces of gold would be enticing for a healer like me, but nae for the other two passengers. One is a lord and the other a laird. Each have their own massive landholdings and armies.”
Ursula did nae mind exaggerating Ethan’s standing. And although she had yet to see it, Ursula believed Alasdair had the army he promised.
The princess narrowed her gaze. “Well, we shall need to dig deep into the chest for the fanciful swords.”
Swords? That sounded promising.
The princess snapped her fingers, and two of the handmaidens rushed to the ornately carved wooden chest. Another waited for the princess to hand over the key strung around her neck.
“Fanciful swords are like candy for grown men,” the princess said as she dangled the heavy key above the maid’s hand. With all that wealth in one place, Ursula wasn’t surprised this royal had to keep her valuables under lock and key.
The maid took the key, then unlocked the chest. The heavy brass latches creaked when the lid was lifted. Once the woman had her hands inside, Ursula could hear the sounds of clinking coins until a heavily jeweled scabbard was withdrawn.
“Aah, there’s one,” the princess squawked, clearly excited about the find. “Bring it here, dear.” She reached out for the elaborate weapon.
But instead of taking it from the girl, she directed the weapon to Ursula. Once she studied the sword in her hands, Ursula was certain a gift like this would detain Alasdair and Ethan for a day, maybe two. She just had to make sure they didn’t try to kill each other with them.
But then a wave of sanity washed over Ursula, and she handed the sheathed sword back to the servant. “’Tis too extravagant,” she said, shaking her head. “Perhaps they would stay because I asked.” She waved her hand at the sword in the maid’s hand. “You should not have to part with family heirlooms.”
The princess let out an abrupt cackle. “These are not family heirlooms, my dear, I can assure you. They are spoils of war. I will part with these as easily as I would part with a bad lover.”
Ursula admired the princess. Not only for her unroyal-like behavior, but also for her directness.
In no time, the other servant girls had unearthed three more swords just as opulent as the first. Now all four were displayed on the navigation table.
“You may nae need to give all these away,” Ursula said. “Who else needs one outside of Alasdair, Ethan, and the captain?”
“You forget, the father of the bride may need some convincing,” the princess said, followed by a smirk and a raised brow.
Ursula laughed. “I’m sure the father will be a willing participant with or without the sword when he finds out his daughter is marrying royalty.”
“His daughter will be marrying Sid,” the princess said. “He will need the sword.”
Chapter 16
Moaning Molly had a secret. Assuming what Corky had told Ethan was true, his venture to Skye Isle might prove more profitable than he’d imagined. If he could uncover a lost Viking treasure, he’d forget about storming Eilean Donan Castle and return to England to command one closer to civilization, and bring Ursula with him.
Sitting alone in the wardroom, Ethan took another swig of ale and contemplated his next move. Typically, he’d spend his time plotting how to best his twin. Although Lachlan had allowed Ethan to make Fyvie his residence of late, he never felt at ease there.
That was one reason why he was willing to accompany Ursula and learn if Eilean Donan Castle was worth the mettle or was a grand hoax designed by Lachlan. At least he’d be able to spend more time with the dark-haired sorceress. She seemed to be as much an outcast as he was, and he found her more desirable than any woman he’d ever met. And the vision of his mother in the church had urged him to help her. Why couldn’t he help himself to her in the process?
No doubt he’d put Ursula off by calling her a witch, but she wasn’t the type of woman you could give compliments to. Some women you had to keep off-balance and show them who was in charge.
On that note, he’d waited in the wardroom long enough for Ursula. He was ready to seek her out now that the ship was underway and rolling gently with the tide.
Once he was above deck, Ethan scanned the main expanse and found her right away, surrounded by the new passengers. He was about to call out to her, but she spotted him and walked toward him instead.
“Ethan, I was looking for you,” she said, a bit out of breath. “I’m in need of your help.”
What was the minx up to? Ursula was never in need of his help, and she was acting much too friendly.
She grabbed his arm. “Ethan, I must have your agreement on a slight delay in our travels.” She glanced back toward the princess and her entourage of women servants. Her son blended in with them as colorful as he was, and his gestures were just as similar.
“It’s Sid,” Ursula said in a hushed tone. “He is to be married, and we are to be a part of the celebration.”
What could she be talking about? “You jest.”
“’Tis true. Princess Margret has employed the Merry Maiden to serve as chapel and great hall for Sid’s nuptials after we dock at Inverness. Nae right away. Late afternoon,” she said as if she’d just asked him to pass the butter.
“Have you gone mad?” Ethan asked her as he yanked his arm from her grasp. “What happened in the captain’s quarters? One minute you are flirting with the Highlander, and the next, you are begging me to attend a wedding of a spoiled royal I do not care to know.”
Ursula gave him a perturbed look and a huff, then she put her hands on her hips.
Thank God. That’s the Ursula I know.
“Listen, Ethan. I’m better at demands than requests. Let me be clear. We are staying for Sid’s wedding.” She turned to leave him, but then spun back around. “There’s a royal sword in it for you.” Then she sauntered off to join Princess Margret again.
A sword? Well, it was Ursula who was in a hurry to get to Skye and back to Fyvie with the flower for Rosalyn. If she wanted to dally in Inverness to fawn over a royal union, then he deserved a sword for his trouble.
“She suckered you with a sword, too?”
“There you are,” Ethan said, turning to face the Highlander. “We have some unfinished business,” Ethan claimed, standing toe-to-toe with the chieftain.
The Highlander
was about a half-foot taller than Ethan, but he was bent over, as if he’d carried sheep from the field to the barn on his back all day.
“What business would that be,” Alasdair asked, closing the gap between them even farther. The spit from his words splattered against Ethan’s cheek.
Wiping the offense off with the back of his sleeve, Ethan glared back at the Highlander. “My wife. She is none of your business. Keep your distance.”
“What wife? I’ve been told you are traveling with your sister.”
Ethan spat. His spray hitting Alasdair’s broad forehead. “She’s not even from the same clan. She’s a witch and a liar,” Ethan claimed.
“Matrimonial bliss?”
“Not your concern,” Ethan said. “The business I speak of is gaining control of Eilean Donan.” Ethan did not budge from his spot just inches from the Highlander. Every muscle in Alasdair’s face was magnified.
But Ethan continued, “Surely, you will not raise your army and storm Eilean Donan as a humanitarian gesture toward me and my wife.”
The only thing that moved on the Highlander was his cheek. It started twitching, so Ethan kept talking. “But I recall you told us you wanted the castle and clan to stay out of the hands of the MacDonalds.” Ethan clapped a brotherly hand on Alasdair’s shoulder. “Therein lies our like-mindedness.”
The Highlander raised his arm. For a moment, Ethan wondered if the man would strike him. But Alasdair relaxed and mimicked Ethan’s actions, gripping his right shoulder and saying, “One thing we will always share is our hatred of the MacDonalds, but I will only promise what I can deliver, and that is my clan.”
Ethan considered the promise and calculated it was more than he would offer a stranger. He suspected Alasdair wanted to storm Eilean Donan with or without him, but doing it on Ethan’s behalf was a better excuse.
With some skepticism on both sides, Alasdair and Ethan parted ways on the deck that afternoon, and Ethan spent the rest of it with the captain in the wardroom talking about Moaning Molly.
Ethan wasn’t certain if what the captain told him could be counted as fact or fiction. The old sea dog spoke with a convincing flair, but with a gleam in his eye and specific details that belied common sense.
But the captain corroborated Corky’s story about the mutiny. As much as Ethan wanted to get the specifics regarding the supposed Viking treasure, the captain was fuzzy when it came to the details. Instead of giving Ethan an assurance that a buried bounty could be found near the faerie pools, he chalked the talk up to Molly’s vivid imagination.
Ethan paused, though, when the captain spoke of Molly as if she were human. But a man alone at sea, for days at a time with no companionship, might imagine anything was possible.
As Ethan took to the lower deck to bunk, he recounted the events of the day. Ocean travel allowed for more interaction than road travel, but he had only one other encounter with Ursula after the late day meal, when she told him to get his own pleasure.
She needed to be wooed. He’d never done anything of the sort and would have to figure out how to accomplish it.
His thoughts jumbled with imagines of her long, black hair entwined in his fingers just as the moaning started.
Ethan opened his eyes and scanned the cramped space. He’d been given private quarters, but to do so, he’d had to agree he’d bunk with sheepskins in the part of the ship where the horses were stalled.
There could be worse places to sleep, and he could attest to it. If he could only get Ursula to bed with him, he’d have the privacy they’d need. But as much as he had fantasized about traveling alone with the Highland beauty, he’d not been persuasive enough.
When Molly moaned again, almost in his ear, he sat upright in his bunk.
“Ye are a handsome lad,” the floating aberration said.
“Thank you,” he replied, not sure what else would have been appropriate.
“Lonely?”
What an odd question to ask, but he nodded his head in agreement.
“I can fix that,” said Molly as a chill like a winter wind swept over him. Then a white, ghostly figure settled between his right side and the ship’s wall.
“I’m right here.”
The words made his skin crawl, and a bolt of fear raced down his spine.
Molly asked, “Now, is this not better?”
It would be if only he could pry the secret to the Viking treasure from her. And with a reluctant sigh, he decided that would be reason enough.
Chapter 17
Ursula had trouble keeping her eyes open as she lay on a makeshift bed made of straw on the floor of the captain’s quarters. Most of the female royal servants, along with Princess Margret, were snoring like piglets.
At least the barnyard noises had served a purpose other than annoyance. They kept her awake until it was time to prepare the herbs and concoct the potions she’d need for Sid and Ethan.
Making her way quietly from the cabin and across the main deck, Ursula carried a candle with the hope there would be enough hot embers in the hearth to ignite the wick. In the meantime, the moon lit her path.
Once through the swinging galley doors, Ursula silently walked toward the counter where the vegetables were chopped and set her basket down. Kitchen tools hung from chains at the wooden table, no doubt to keep them from sliding around during rough waters.
When her gaze settled on the hearth, she was delighted to find enough fire to stoke, not only for her candle, but also to set the water to boil in one of the ship’s kettles.
Ursula removed the silk satchel from her basket and unwrapped the bundle. She always carried a good amount of herbs wherever she went. Being a healer meant thoughtful preparedness.
Damiana, mandrake root, henbane, rose petals, and beetle wings. She laid them out on the worktable, as well as the tiny vials she’d need for storage. Eventually, each potion would be discretely dispensed in a goblet of wine on the morrow before the ceremony.
Although timing was critical, Ursula had experience with these herbs and was confident in her abilities as she went to work chopping mandrake.
“Hungry, too?”
Ursula bobbled the paring knife. When it slipped out of her hands, she shrieked. Peering down, she was relieved to find the knife dangling from the iron chain.
“I could have hurt myself.” Livid, she spun around and did not care who caught her wrath.
“As skittish as a feral cat, you are,” Alasdair mumbled as he met her at the worktable. Reaching for the small knife, he grinned at her as he stooped to retrieve it. “You’ve spent too much time in a castle, getting soft. You can nae survive in the Highlands. You spook too easily.”
If his brogue and demeanor had not been so endearing, she would have sounded off on him. Instead, she softened her hard lip line into a smug smile.
“Mayhap it is because I do nae sail often and am not attuned to my surroundings.” She shrugged her shoulders.
Alasdair scoffed. “’Tis mental strength that produces a steady hand whether you are on land or sea, not your surroundings.”
He made a good point, and she’d appear petty if she argued with him, so she changed the subject. “Late yesterday you were telling me about Titania when Ethan interrupted us.”
“A jealous man he is. Although you say you are nae married, ’tis clear he wishes to be.”
“Ethan?” It was her turn to scoff.
“I do nae know why a man would claim be to be married unless he was hiding from the law.”
Ursula chuckled. This Scotsman wasn’t like the unkempt clan members she’d encountered in the Highlands. She was reminded of what Quinn had said to her earlier.
“Tell me about your great-great-great-grandmother.”
“You may be easily spooked, but you are nae forgetful,” he said.
>
“Are you hungry?” Ursula asked, knowing she would have better luck keeping him in the kitchen if she fed him.
He perked up at the question, and before he’d even answered, she was at the cupboard, taking out dried meat and figs.
She felt his eyes on her as she set the food next to her herbs, and again as she turned to stoke the fire in the hearth.
“I’ve been away from Dunvegan for a fortnight,” he said softly.
“Then you’ve been away from high table eating,” she said, turning to face him. “’Twill take more magic than I have to replicate that here in the galley, but I’ll do what I can with the dry figs and beef.
“No better time than when a cook’s at the hearth to fill her head with stories of the Fae,” she said with a wink as she walked to the table. Taking some fennel and sage from her basket, Ursula began chopping it with the figs.
“Just payment for a meal, I suppose,” Alasdair said, taking a stool on the other side of the table.
Witch and laird made for unusual tablemates, she thought as she took to slicing the dried beef into bite-sized pieces.
She walked back to the kettle, then carefully dropped the meat into the rolling boiling water. Before she covered it, she took a swig from the ceramic jug by the stove, happy to find the wine suitable enough for her taste. Then she added it to the water before clapping the lid on the pot to simmer the beef.
“You can talk while I work,” she prompted, surprised Alasdair had not started with his tale as payment for the meal she was preparing.
When she turned to look his way, she half expected to find him either gone from the table or asleep upon it. Instead, she found his gaze lingering on her and a curious grin on his face.
He blinked quickly and cleared his throat. Then his cheeks reddened, and she sensed some embarrassment before he began.
The Secret of Skye Isle Page 11