“I will be prepared for both,” he replied, sporting a smug smile. “As long as you swear neither will be poisonous.”
She returned the smug smile. “Why would I kill you now when you must guide us through the Highlands and help me find the faerie pools?”
He laughed heartily at that. “My good friend George Gordon, the Second Earl of Huntley, will give us a land berth and a comfortable bed at Urquhart Castle. If we get started now, we can reach it by nightfall.”
He leaned toward her like he had a secret to share. “But you shall need to convince your husband that ’tis a good idea.”
She spat before she answered him. “I promise to poison you if you call Ethan my husband one more time.” With her hands on her hips, she tossed her head. “Out! Or we’ll get Ethan’s ire up before we’ve even started.”
~ ~ ~
With the motivation of sleeping in a castle, Ursula quickly packed her satchel with the few personal items she’d left by her straw bed, then went to find the captain.
Rosalyn’s uncle was in the galley talking to the cook and scullery boy. She curtsied when he turned to address her. “Good Uncle, you’ve been more than generous to provide an ocean passage for me and Ethan here to Inverness. You have spared us at least two travel days.”
The captain grinned. His two front teeth covered in gold did not make him any less charming. “Anything for my sweet Rosalyn and you, Ursula. ’Tis no secret among family you are traveling to Skye Isle to help my niece.” He reached into his pocket. “You are a brave lass to consort with the likes of Ethan and Alasdair,” he said soberly and gently shoved a leather pouch into her hand.
Ursula suspected what it was, and she handed it back, shaking her head. But he did not relent.
“You took care of Rosalyn when my brother, Angus, was sick. Consider this a token of my appreciation.” He withdrew a folded piece of tattered parchment from his pocket. “I almost forgot to give you this.” He grinned again, and the two gold teeth glistened in the firelight of the kitchen.
When she started to unfold it, he shook his head. “You will know what to do with it.” His expression changed from warm to crotchety, and he turned his back to her. “Now off with you before I get sentimental.”
Ursula did nae need to be told twice. After she spun on her heel and headed to the stairs to go above board, she stuffed the tattered note between her breasts.
It was nae long before she, Ethan, and Alasdair were trotting their horses along the western side of Loch Ness with the sun still high in the sky. She took in a deep breath and marveled how the lavender-colored heather smelled as wonderful as it looked.
The flower was a mainstay in her herb collection. The dried variety she used often was almost gone. Replenishing her supply would be a top priority at their first stop.
Aye, it would be tempting to empty her satchel of clothing and stuff it full of wildflowers. Not only had the heather flower aided in easing some of the aches and pains in her older patients, it was a must when treating anything to do with gout or problems with the gut. Even her patients’ sleeping disorders and breathing issues had been solved with a regular supply of her heather tea.
As they traveled the path beside the massive Loch Ness, they rode in single file, with Alasdair in the lead and Ethan in the rear. Her position between the men gave Ursula some peace of mind, but it also restricted her from any unusual movements. Not that she needed to make any, but Ethan had the best view of her actions.
At least she’d been able to get a fresh dose of the cooperation concoction into Ethan’s ale before they’d left the ship that day. A workstation and an ample supply of ale would be hard to come by while they traveled.
As Ursula studied the surface of Loch Ness, she gave credit to Alasdair for suggesting they travel the road rather than the water. She had little experience with fishing boats and that would have been their only other option.
Without much swimming experience, Ursula had been wary of the water while on the Merry Maiden, but she’d trusted Rosalyn and Quinn. And although she’d been in water over her head, a cousin of hers had drowned in the Loch Duich when Ursula had not been quite five and ten years old.
Ursula came from a world where herbs could fix just about any ailment. But if someone went under the water and couldn’t swim, there was no potion that could bring them back.
While she was fixated on the water, Alasdair’s shout made her docile palfrey step sideways in an awkward trot. After a few soothing strokes to her neck, Tempest settled back into a normal canter.
Ursula was about to chastise Alasdair, but when she looked up, he was pointing toward the loch. “There, do you see it?”
She scanned the surface of the water. “What am I looking for?” she asked, loud enough for him to hear.
“’Tis gone,” he said with a frustrated sigh. “No point offering an explanation of what can nae be explained.”
She shrugged her shoulders, then turned to look back at Ethan, who rolled his eyes and twisted his lips in a disgusted manner.
When Ursula turned back around in her saddle, Alasdair was dismounting. Ethan and Ursula followed suit, then the three tethered their horses to a tree by the path in silence.
After Alasdair headed for the water, Ethan came to her side and stood as close as a husband would a wife. She took a step back. “I am nae afraid of whatever Alasdair thought he saw,” she offered. If he’d come to comfort her, she did not need his help.
“You look lovely today,” Ethan said.
The compliment was so simple, and he appeared genuine. She couldn’t help but grin back at him, but she offered him nothing more. If anything, she’d learned when Ethan was under the influence of her potion, he was more honest than not.
What was he thinking? Although she’d given up on trying, she wished the potion’s effects would let her in. She’d never even been able to pick up even the murkiest of images.
“These flowers are truly lovely,” Ursula said to him and turned away. “I shan’t waste a moment of this reprieve,” she called over her shoulder as she walked toward the loch, hoping she would have time to pick the heather that was plentiful on this side of the trail, and get away from his attention.
She busied herself selecting the largest, most vibrant blooms, expecting Ethan would find his own distraction as had Alasdair.
As she plucked the blossoms, she concentrated on catching Ethan’s thoughts. Perhaps the potion would give her an assist.
Once Ursula cleared her own mind, it was never long before images would form. Some were vivid. If no images came, a voice would speak to her. As if she could hear what someone was thinking. Sometimes she had both sight and sound, like with Rosalyn. The closer she was to someone, the stronger the signals.
She bent low, finding a particularly fragrant batch of heather, and inhaled the seductively sweet smell, hoping the scent might assist her, but instead of Ethan, an image of Rosalyn appeared . . . sitting on a bench in her garden.
Oh, poor, poor, Rosalyn. The lass was so much bigger than when Ursula had left a few days ago. She counted on her fingers. Four weeks to her predicted delivery date with a normal birth. With twins, Rosalyn could go in less.
Ursula shouldn’t have been surprised a vision of her friend came through just then. Although Ursula had found it difficult to read someone at a significant distance before, she’d never been as close to anyone as she was to Rosalyn. Perhaps that was the reason Ursula could make a connection now.
Ursula closed her eyes and took another deep inhale of the heather at her feet. Could the flowers be aiding her?
She squeezed her eyes together tightly.
Aye, Rosalyn was sitting in the garden and . . . She was singing!
Ursula could not discern the words, but Rosalyn was clearly singing and looked happy. She even rubbed her bell
y while she sang. As much as Ursula wanted to let this vision make her feel at ease about being away, it still worried her that she was away from the castle.
Pregnancies were unpredictable, and with twins, even more so.
When Alasdair shouted it was time to leave, the vision shattered. Seeing Rosalyn reminded Ursula she had much to accomplish in a very short time.
After the three had gathered at their horses, readying to ride again, Ethan asked Alasdair what he was looking for.
“Nothing, really,” he said with some hesitation. “There are legends about this loch. Most, I can tell are exaggerated stories. One as old as the crusades,” Alasdair told them as he stared off across the large expanse of water. “I thought I saw something.” He shook his head. “Most likely, it was only the sun shining off the surface of the water, playing tricks on my eyes.”
Ursula’s gaze went out over the water again. The liquid churned and rose in waves, even out in the distant middle. Whatever Alasdair thought he saw, Ursula did not want to see.
“This is no hunting expedition, Alasdair,” Ursula prompted. “We must make haste. Three days of travel to find the guelder rose.”
Alasdair gave her a love-drunk smile. “As you wish.” Then turned his horse and coaxed him into a canter.
The heather had reinvigorated her, and she couldn’t wait to let her head hit a comfortable pillow again. Ursula gave her palfrey the commands, and in short order, both she and Ethan were galloping at Alasdair’s heels.
Chapter 21
It wasn’t long after they’d turned off the Loch Ness trail that Alasdair guided his horse and the others over the drawbridge and up to the grand entrance to Urquhart. When he waved his gauntlet at the sentry, the clanking chains ground loudly and the latticed-grill gate disappeared into the grooved opening above.
The lord of Urquhart Castle had been a longtime ally of Alasdair’s. As far back as he could remember, George had shared his hatred of the MacDonald clan.
Alasdair had been out of his element on the northern coast at Inverness and was more at home in the Highlands. But even though he felt at ease here, he’d never let his guard down unless he was in a fortified castle like Urquhart.
Once they’d been welcomed inside the keep by the castle’s steward, Alasdair tugged his bearskin cloak off his shoulders and tossed it into the arms of a young lad. The boy took a few steps back after he caught the cloak, looking overwhelmed by the weight of it, as if a bear had gobbled him up. Alasdair chuckled.
George’s bellowing laughter, however, made Alasdair peer down the corridor for him. It echoed through the high ceiling and bounced down the keep’s grand entry walls.
Alasdair’s friend strode briskly toward them, George’s silver hair shining like polished armor in the glow of the sconces he passed on his way to greet them.
The color of his hair, however, wasn’t indicative of his age. The slender face, high cheek bones, and icy-blue eyes belonged to a man closer to Alasdair’s own years.
Once George reached them, he grasped Alasdair’s arm above the elbow, and he did the same. It was a handshake they’d developed after Alasdair’s injury. George was well aware a slap on the back, with the customary embrace, could cause Alasdair much pain.
“Lord Gordon.”
“Good to see you, Laird MacLeod.”
They both tipped forward in a formal bow. When rising, George grinned at him like a boy. “Make yourself at home in my humble castle, Crotach.”
Alasdair warmed to the nickname he’d inherited after the Battle at Bloody Bay. He turned and gestured to Ethan and Ursula. “I trust your hospitality will extend to my two traveling companions as well, Lord Ethan Luttrell of Clan MacKenzie and Lady Ursula of Clan Fraser.”
“Any ally of yours is welcome,” George declared, then he made a grand sweeping motion. “Come, we are just about to sup, and the tables will be laden with all your favorites.”
His friend pointed to the staff waiting for instructions. “Leave your satchels with my servants, and your chambers will be ready after you’ve had your fill of mead and more.”
Alasdair grinned broadly and followed his host into the great hall. After navigating through the trestle tables, they all took their seats at the head table on the dais.
Castle Urquhart was no Dunvegan, but it was still a substantial stronghold, and George profited from being the only fortified castle on Loch Ness, the gateway from Inverness to the Highlands.
George raised his chalice and introduced their contingent to those in service and to the local nobles there. After a toast to the food and the company, trenchers of peacock and salmon were served. Alasdair filled his own trencher with generous portions of both. When the bread was offered, he did not hesitate and took a Highlander’s portion of that and the potatoes as well.
When one of the serving lassies flirted with him as she filled his chalice with mead, he gave her tight arse a quick spank.
The aghast look from Ursula was worth the gesture, and he had trouble controlling his chuckling over it. As much as he enjoyed teasing her, the idea of having her was more prevalent than before. He wondered if she would remember the offer of an antidote and the healing herbs she’d promised earlier.
When he raised his chalice to take a long guzzle of George’s hospitality, he stole a sideways glance her way. Ursula’s content expression glowed in the light from the tapered candles. She looked like a satisfied, royal cat after a bowl of rich cream. For a moment, he wanted to ask her what she was thinking about, but his host interrupted.
“Crotach, ’tis good to share a table with you, my old friend.”
“Am I old, or an old friend?” Alasdair postured, propping his elbow on the table and placing his hand under his chin.
“How about my friend of old?”
He winced. “What about longtime friend?”
“The best of friends.” George paused as if trying to remember something, then his face lit up. “Aristotle calls that ‘a friend of the good.’”
Alasdair narrowed his gaze on George. “You have a friend named Aristotle?”
His host slapped the table, making some heads turn. But George did not seem to care when he answered, “The Greek philosopher.” George looked in both directions and softened his voice, “I read Latin. The classics.”
Alasdair let out a hoot. “You are a Highlander. There is nothing classic about us.”
George eyed him up and down. “Speak for yourself. The Skyelanders are much more like the pillaging Vikings of old.”
“Are you calling me old again?” He leaned both hands on the table as if he was about to get up and fight. “Do nae speak ill of my late ancestors,” Alasdair threatened. After a long pause, he winked. “You may need our protection one day.”
His friend clasped Alasdair’s forearm, just as he had in their greeting, but this time his expression darkened. “Speaking of protection. We should talk privately.” Once again, George glanced about, and that made Alasdair take stock of his position, too. Checking to see how Ursula was faring, he found her in a heated conversation with Ethan.
The bastard was nothing but trouble.
If it were not for Ursula, he would have abandoned Ethan in Inverness and made his way back to Dunvegan with her. Instead, he was relegated to navigating the trip home with the twit.
Now he was conflicted. Clearly, the information George had would be relevant to their travels, but it was apparent Ursula needed rescuing. And she had a promise to keep.
The squeeze on his forearm reminded Alasdair his host was waiting for a response. Turning his attention back to George, he clasped his free hand on top. “My friend, you are a fine host, and the meal is the best I’ve had outside of Skye”—he gestured with a head nod toward Ursula—“but my fair lady needs rescuing. Can it wait til morn?”
George
spun around in his seat and swore. “I’ll call my guards to settle this,” he offered when he turned back to Alasdair.
“I must take care of this now,” Alasdair said through gritted teeth, squeezing his friend’s shoulder as he walked past him to promptly join the arguing couple.
“Take your hands off her,” Alasdair said, confronting Ethan at the great hall entrance.
Ethan cut him a look. “You have no authority here,” he snipped back at Alasdair, eyeing him up and down.
George was at his elbow. “I give him all the authority he needs,” his friend promised.
Ethan dropped Ursula’s arm and backed away as Alasdair put a protective arm around her shoulders. “If Ursula does not give you permission, then you do not touch her, understand?”
Ethan glared at him for a long time while George’s men filed in around behind Alasdair. A mini army had assembled, ready to move forward to support his efforts.
“Ethan,” George said, breaking the silence and the standoff, “my castle steward would like to give you a tour of the armory.”
With a sharp nod of his head, Ethan sulked off to follow the servant. Ursula’s deep sigh prompted Alasdair to turn toward her and deliver a chivalrous grin.
She returned the gesture with a subtle smile, reminding him of a rare flower.
George snapped his fingers and summoned four servants. After a few words of instruction, he turned to Ursula. “Alasdair has told me about your love of plants and herbs. We have one of the most vibrant gardens in the Highlands. I hope you’ll be my guest and let my servants show you around before you retire for the evening.”
Without another word, she curtseyed and was off, almost skipping as if she were a child on her way to play with her favorite toy.
George turned to Alasdair. “We can have that talk in my study,” he offered, crossing his arms over his chest in a satisfied way. “Ethan will be in the armory for at least an hour, and Ursula will be visiting our indoor gardens. Afterward, she’ll be taken to a special chamber where you two will reunite.”
The Secret of Skye Isle Page 14