The Secret of Skye Isle

by Dillon, Marisa

  “’Tis probably because you are either ordering her to comply or threatening her with swords.”

  Alasdair shrugged his shoulders. “We did not threaten any lass with swords.”

  “But I bet you looked intimidating. Armored knights and a Highlander covered in bear fur? I would run the other way,” Ursula confessed as she sized up the Highlander. His brawny legs were thick and muscular. Hairy, too. And she blushed after her eyes traveled from the edge of his kilt to meet his gaze.

  Ethan grunted, and she turned to address him.

  “Clearly we do nae have much time but much to do. We must set aside our differences to get what we want.” She paused, looking for a nod of compliance. Instead she heard grumblings, but she kept going regardless.

  “Ethan, you secure the priest, and I will go with Alasdair. We must find a willing woman soon.” She gazed upward and took note of how high the sun was already, then handed Ethan one of the satchels filled with gold coins the princess had provided, hoping he’d not run off with it. Now it was time to see if the cooperation potion had taken hold.

  Instead of waiting for agreement or an argument, Ursula mounted her palfrey and turned onto the main path, assuming Ethan would be vocal if not compliant.

  As she rode farther away from Ethan without an outburst or objection, she relaxed into her saddle. Alasdair’s horse fell in step with hers, and soon the knight contingent followed her and Alasdair out of the village.

  As they traveled southwest of Inverness, the seaside village cottages became smaller and the plots of land bigger. Most farming done here was for the wool trade, and sheep dotted the landscape in every direction. She was certain if she found the daughter of the poorest farmer in the area, she’d have her willing bride.

  Ursula wasn’t looking at Alasdair as the contingent neared a farmhouse, but this time, the visons come through more vividly than she expected.

  Who was the woman beneath Alasdair’s naked form, spanking his muscular arse?

  The woman had long dark hair. She screeched and turned to look at him just a few paces ahead, hoping to stop her intrusion on his thoughts.

  Her shout must have alarmed the knights, for no sooner had she let out the scream than two officers were by her side. “Are you all right?” one of the knights asked.

  She laughed like an innocent. “Dear knights, I meant no alarm. I was just overjoyed to spy a lovely lass by the farmhouse gate.”

  The knights spun in their saddles to confirm what she had said, but there was no lass at the gate.

  “We may have scared her off,” Ursula said. Then she had an idea. “I propose your group wait for us here. Alasdair and I will approach the farmer and assure him there is nothing to fear.”

  After the Highlander steered his horse in line with hers, Ursula blushed, remembering his thoughts of the two of them entwined. But his expression was full of mischief, not lust, when he turned to her.

  “Never send a knight to do a laird’s work,” Alasdair suggested.

  “Never send a knight unless the damsel is in distress,” she countered.

  He laughed. “No one would answer the door when we came knocking.”

  “No doubt the villagers thought you were calling to collect taxes or arrest them.”

  He sobered. “I apologize for my actions earlier.” He paused as if searching for the right words.

  She found them for him. “You were going to say a powerful urge came over you. One you couldnae control.”

  His mouth gaped for a moment, then he said, “How did you know?”

  “I’ve seen it before.”

  “Your beauty, your radiance. Men must fall at your feet.”

  Her cheeks heated, but her words didn’t. “That is nae what I meant. You mixed some of my herbs in with your stew. It may take a few days for it to wear off.”

  She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye as he cocked his head her way. “God’s teeth, at least you did nae poison me.”

  “Poisonings are deliberate, nae accidental.” After she said it, she clapped a hand over her mouth.

  “You speak with some authority,” he said.

  “Witch. You’ve heard me called that name. I prefer healer.”

  “And you deserve that respect.”

  She smiled broadly and gave him a sideways glance.

  “Let me understand what has happened.” Alasdair brought his horse to a stop. Not because of what he’d learned, but because they’d arrived at the farmer’s gate.

  She followed suit and waited while the Highlander gathered his thoughts. His face scrunched up, brows knotted and lips twisted, before he asked, “You put a spell on me?”

  “That is petty and ridiculous. You happened upon me in the galley, and you added the herbs to your stew. The herbs will weaken your inhibitions.”

  “Then you should be trying to kiss me and get under my kilt.”

  Her face heated again, but this time her words did, too. “I do nae want to do any such thing and am repulsed by the idea of it. You, sir, should clean up your thoughts and know the effects of the herbs will wear off soon.” She huffed, frustrated she had to explain herself. “I did nae eat much of the stew, so do nae expect any lovesickness from me.”

  “You could have offered me an antidote,” he accused her, “but instead you let me make a fool of myself.”

  “You were a fool to start with. I had nothing to do with it.”

  “Excuse me,” came a timid voice from beyond their squabbling. There, standing behind the gate, was a young lass with hair as golden as the sun and a disposition just as bright.

  “Are you a witch?” the young lass asked.

  Ursula grinned sweetly at the girl before asking, “What would make you think such a thing?”

  Chapter 19

  “Aye, she is, lass. She’s threatened to turn me into a sheep and have me follow her blindly about the land, but I have begged her not to. Can you help me?” Alasdair implored.

  The girl giggled but looked a bit uncertain about who was telling the truth. Ursula slid off her horse and, in a few shakes of a horse’s tail, was arm in arm with the Highland lass as they walked up to the farmhouse.

  Alasdair was glad for the interruption. They had a task to complete, and he was overly distracted by the healer. At least he had some explanation. Although the urge to find a secluded place to seduce her ebbed and waned, he had found it difficult to not be infatuated by her.

  But the more he pondered his obsession for her, the more confused he became. For he’d felt an attraction to this lass before he’d supped with her in the kitchen. As if he’d known her before he was born. There was a knowing he could not explain.

  Thankfully, he kept his thoughts to himself. No, he’d not even confided in the captain, for there was no benefit in making himself appear weak or admit he’d been taken in by a woman who was a witch.

  No matter what they called her, she was different from any woman he’d ever met. The clan was clamoring for an heir, but Alasdair didnae want to marry just to provide a son for his followers. Ursula appeared to be a woman who would consider bartering for what she wanted. Most healers preferred not to marry. Alasdair himself was of the same mind. Although he was a descendent of faerie blood, he rarely considered his skills magical.

  Aye, the lass, Ursula, would be his goal. Even without her magic, he wanted her. The prophecy might be true after all, but it was too early to tell. She would have to return to the faerie pools with him to be certain.

  “There you are.” Her voice cut through his thoughts.

  “Aye, right where you left me,” he responded.

  She was on her way toward him, still arm in arm with the young farmer’s daughter.

  “She is willing and able,” Ursula gushed, then grinned at him.

 
Even in the short time he’d known her, this was out of character. But then he considered she had taken on the task of finding the bride. She might feel like he did on the battlefield after a trouncing of the MacDonalds. He’d give her that.

  “Good, the knights have an extra horse.” Better get the lass on her way before she changed her mind was what he wanted to say.

  When they returned to the ship with a bride, no one was more surprised than the princess, who had her turn at gushing and fawning over the girl.

  As much as Alasdair had been opposed to the idea of holding a wedding on a ship, the crew and handmaidens proved him wrong, transforming the deck into a respectable outdoor chapel.

  Once the priest was in place, and the bride and groom ready, the mishmash of guests filed in and stood before the flowered canopy that had been raised for the occasion.

  When Ursula walked from the captain’s quarters to confer with the priest, Alasdair’s jaw dropped. If she’d stood next to the bride, she’d have overshadowed the young girl for Ursula looked stunning. Unfortunately for him, she disappeared from his sight as magically as she had appeared.

  Why did she find it necessary he attend? He’d prefer to be riding his horse in the fields outside the town, helping the destrier get his land legs back before they started on the journey to Skye.

  Alasdair sighed begrudgingly, then took a seat on a barrel, and was just getting settled when a jabbing finger poked his scarred shoulder.

  He almost jumped out of his seat in agony but ground his hands together to manage the discomfort before he looked up, ready to knock out the person who’d provoked his pain.

  “Why were you staring at me earlier?”

  Ursula.

  “Was I?” he asked, still reeling from the throbbing in his shoulder. His vison swam for a moment until the pain subsided a bit and he could see her clearly.

  Of course, he’d been staring at her. She’d changed into a green and gold velvet dress that reminded him of the Titania tapestry at Dunvegan. The hair. The eyes. The gown. She was only missing the crown.

  “You remind me of someone special.” He struggled to gather his thoughts. “The herbs. ’Tis your fault after all. I cannot control my adoration.” He was stretching the truth, but it pleased him when she covered a gasp. Gazing at her face made the pain almost disappear.

  She sputtered as if he’d left her speechless, then she huffed and stomped away. That had not been his intention, but until the effects of her concoction wore off, he’d best stay away from her, lest he forget how to be civil. Although Highlanders were not known for their civility.

  That acknowledgment made him chuckle, but also drew the displeasure of the priest, who was standing under the pavilion ready to start the proceedings.

  Ethan had brought him onto the ship just moments ago. Alasdair watched the man closely. The holy man appeared to be swaying back and forth. Was he drunk or in need of sea legs beneath him? No doubt a little of both.

  Once the priest had everyone’s attention, the groom entered and stood by his side.

  When the bagpipes began to play, Alasdair almost bolted out of his seat. Although clearly a Scottish tradition, he had not expected it when the bride and the priest had been hard to come by. If he’d had his pipes with him, he would have joined in the revelry.

  Not long after the first wailing of the pipes, the farmer’s daughter appeared near the gangplank. If he was a betting man, he’d have put money on her running down the plank rather than down the aisle.

  The lovely witch, though, escorted the bonnie bride down the aisle instead of the girl’s father. But the lass looked almost as green as Ursula’s dress.

  Alasdair felt some sympathy for the girl, having learned from Ursula on the trip back to the ship that the bride was one of ten daughters. The youngest and last to marry. Da had said good riddance when he’d received the gold and the sword Ursula had brought for barter. Ursula had insisted she be the one to give the bride away.

  Now the two progressed down the makeshift aisle between crewmen and handmaidens. Ursula looking fetching, and the bride, ready to be fetched. And Princess Margret was at the center of the proceedings, bawling her eyes out.

  After the bride was handed off to the groom and Ursula stepped back next to the princess, the priest did his best to guide the vows.

  By God’s grace, it was a ceremony filled with only a few short promises. To stay together in sickness and health. Love and honor. Although Sid was in the traditional short coat, kilt, and sporran, the handfasting ceremony was skipped.

  Word was the captain had to set sail soon and had insisted the ceremony be short but legal.

  Traditions aside, Alasdair did not believe the marriage would last more than a week considering the circumstances, a farmer’s daughter and an effeminate nobleman. But then his family was filled with unions of unusual circumstances, and many had lasted.

  All he needed was an heir and uncomplicated circumstances. Time spent with Ursula would dictate her compliance. Now, how to rid himself of Ethan?

  ~ ~ ~

  Ursula took in a deep breath and released it slowly as the couple walked down the aisle toward the gangplank. Thank goodness she’d found a willing bride. Even though the priest was tipsy, at least he’d made it through the legally binding ceremony.

  And the herbs Sid had taken last night allowed for the completion of a union of unusual circumstances. Both the bride and groom appeared happy after the ceremony was complete. She was certain they would make it work. The young lass had been more than agreeable to Sid’s terms and anxious to leave the tattered clothes and farm life for a castle to serve as a duchess.

  Ursula blew out a sigh and tried to smooth back the locks the wind had tossed about. The sea was becoming choppy, and the ship rolled a little side to side. At least the weather had held through the nuptials, and her job here was done.

  Now, to change into her traveling clothes and say her goodbyes. She’d heard the captain announce before the ceremony he was anxious to sail before the weather turned. With the exception of Ethan, Alasdair, and herself, most would sail back to Aberdeen with the new stock of raw wool gathered at Inverness.

  After crossing the deck, Ursula ducked into the captain’s quarters to prepare for the next part of her journey, to Skye Isle. Before her eyes adjusted to the light, she was swept off her feet. “There you are,” a familiar voice whispered in her ear.

  “Put me down,” she insisted. “There’s much to do, and you should nae be here.”

  “These are the captain’s quarters,” Alasdair said again in a stubborn tone, refusing her order as if the Highlander’s answer made his actions right.

  “These are my quarters at the moment, and you are nae welcome,” she huffed, squirming.

  “There’s little time,” Alasdair insisted, then his lips came down hard on hers, his tongue probing right after. She did not expect the assault and began pounding on his chest in protest.

  When that did nothing to deter him, she kicked her legs with a vengeance. The action must have thrown off his balance for he walked backward as his lips released their hold.

  She was about to scream when she felt herself falling forward as he stumbled backward, losing his balance. As his back hit the surface of the navigation table, instruments and rolls of parchment went flying in all directions.

  “That went bloody wrong,” he blurted out.

  She wanted to respond with indignation, but before she could utter a word, the table beneath them collapsed.

  Ursula went straight down, landing on top of Alasdair.

  The scream that filled the air was not her own.

  Chapter 20

  A catastrophic mistake. Alasdair had hoped to surprise Ursula, but instead he was writhing in pain under her. This was not the vision he’d had earlier in the day when he�
�d lain naked above her, taking his pleasure and giving it in return.

  His battle scar throbbed, and his howl had brought the knights to the cabin. Luckily, the shutters were drawn, and the fire was only embers. By the time the guards’ eyes had adjusted to the light, both he and Ursula were on their feet.

  “Everything is all right. No harm done,” Alasdair said first. “When the lady cried out, I was outside the captain’s quarters and rushed in to provide assistance.”

  “Luckily, I caught my one hand on the edge of the navigation table, softening my fall,” Ursula explained.

  The story seemed to placate Princess Margret’s knights enough that they filed out quickly and left the two of them alone.

  Ursula opened one of the shutters, then turned to him. She appeared to be unharmed.

  “’Tis your potion that made me do it,” he said bashfully.

  She wrung her hands.

  “How long will I be tortured by this?” he asked.

  She shrugged her shoulders. “I could try to mix together an antidote, but we must leave the ship soon. I will not have the time,” she said with an agitated tone as she looked about the quarters. “I shall gather my things now, and we must be off.”

  “And leave me in misery. Wanting you, but not having you?”

  She winced. “’Tis not fair, and I apologize. As soon as we make camp for the night, I will do my best to make a concoction to help you,” she promised.

  He rubbed his shoulder gingerly, and she moved to his side in an instant. “’Tis a wound from the fall?”

  He contemplated his answer but decided to be honest about it. “’Tis a battle wound that causes some pain.” He shifted his weight, uncomfortable talking about the scar now that he’d started.

  She showed compassion in her gaze. “I have some herbs for this, too,” she offered.