Trapped Under his Highland Spell: A Scottish Medieval Historical Romance (Tales Of Highland Might Book 4)

by Ava McArthur

  Moira frowned. There was so much that seemed wrong with what Grizel was saying, and yet she could not fully dismiss the possibility.

  “Grizel, if ye are right, what dae ye think we could dae tae ward the spirits off? Is there any way tae appease them?”

  Grizel tilted her head to the side. “Once the spirits are angered, it’s very difficult tae calm them down…very difficult indeed. I dinnae know what we could dae…I’m sure there’s a way, but I cannae dae it by myself. I need help, the help of everyone here.

  That is what people dinnae realize. The spirits affect us all and if we are nae united, then we cannae dae anything tae stop them. Ye must talk tae Niall about it. I will work on a solution tae commune with the spirits. He wilnae listen tae me, but his wife? Aye, ye are the key, lass. There is a reason why ye hae come tae us.

  Ye are the one that can make Niall see clearly. For tae long, we hae been blind tae the truth, and now everyone is suffering. I should hae tried harder tae make them see. I should hae—”

  “Ye did all ye could,” Moira said, reaching over and placing her hand on Grizel’s. Her skin was thin and cold. Grizel had worked herself up into a bit of a state, and Moira tried her best to calm Grizel down.

  “I will dae as ye say. I’ll speak tae Niall, but I cannae offer any promises that he will listen. He haes a firm idea of what he believes.”

  “Aye, I know. That’s the part of his father in him. But ye hae tae try and make him listen. Ye hae tae open his eyes, please, for the sake of all of us! If ye dinnae, then the spirits wilnae stop until they’ve punished us all. It all rests on yer shoulders, lass. Ye are the only one who can talk tae him now. Remind him of the old ways, please. Try tae convince him that I’m nae just some fool. I know ye understand the way the world truly is. I can tell by yer heart that ye hae an open mind and that ye can commune with nature.”

  “I’ll try,” Moira said, nodding to appease Grizel. However, in her heart, she wasn’t entirely sure that she believed what Grizel believed. Was it possible that the spirits were responsible for all this? Convincing Niall of this was going to be challenging, especially because she was going to be speaking without the full force of her belief. But she could not dismiss the prospect entirely, and neither should Niall. He should at least consider the possibility that the spirits are at work, otherwise, things were liable to get worse.

  Grizel’s head swayed to the side and she breathed deeply, falling asleep for a moment before waking herself up with a cough.

  “Grizel, I think it’s best if ye stay here for the night.”

  “Oh nay, lass, I must return home. Perhaps if I gae intae the woods I can talk with the spirits myself and undo what haes been done.”

  “But what if the spirits decide tae punish ye as well? I couldnae hae that on my conscience. Please, stay with us the night and wait for me tae talk with Niall. If we need tae gae intae the woods, it’s better that we dae sae taegether.

  And I want ye tae stay close just in case we need yer help.” Moira used an imploring tone, and this worked to convince Grizel to stay. Moira helped her up from the chair and led her to the room that she had stayed in on her first night with the Calbraith clan. Grizel seemed satisfied that the wreath was hanging above the bed.

  “At least they hae nae forgotten all I hae taught them,” the old woman said, smiling softly before she sank into the bed and rested her weary bones. Moira bid her a good night before she left and returned downstairs, cleaning up the plate that Grizel had left and pondering the matter of this illness that was running through the clan.

  There were murmurs and worried whispers in the halls, and Moira wished that there was more she could do. Being in good health herself, she helped the servants as their number had been depleted. Moira knew the mood, for it was one that had taken hold in the Monroe clan more than once.

  It was a mood of fear, and it could be as insidious as a plague. People were prone to suspicion and paranoia. Moira had only seen it before an attack, though, and the mood always changed once the battle began because people had an enemy to fight and to focus their anger on. But this illness was different.

  There were no soldiers storming the walls of the castle. There were no bandits threatening them. They might as well have been fighting ghosts, and there was only so much Moira could do.

  Eventually, Niall came downstairs. He looked weary and haggard. He ran his hand through his hair and puffed out his cheeks.

  “How are they?” Moira asked, rushing up to his side as soon as he came to find her. Niall shook his head and wore a somber expression.

  “They’re just…they’re nae looking well. Isobel is like Jamie, panting and resting. There’s something in this castle. I can feel it. Some force.” He frowned and curled his fist into a tight ball, before releasing it. “But how can I fight an enemy I cannae see? The healers are daeing their best, but they cannae dae anything tae help. At the moment all they say is that we hae tae wait and hope they’re strong enough tae pull through. But I cannae wait, Moira. I hae tae dae something. I cannae just sit by and let my people die. I cannae watch Jamie and Isobel…” He trailed off, not daring to finish the grim thought.

  Moira’s heart went out to him, and she wished there was more she could do. She gnawed at her bottom lip and went over to him, clutching his hand and staring into his eyes imploringly.

  Moira could feel the hurt and the anguish bristling upon his skin. The fierce love he had for his siblings was radiant. She liked to think that he would react in the same manner if she was suffering too. Even though she hated the circumstances, she liked the fact that she was seeing his true character emerge.

  There had been so many suppositions and assumptions about his character because of the history that existed between their clans, but she could see the real him now, and she was thrilled with the man who was standing before her.

  There was nobody else she would have rather loved, but now was not the time to tell him that because she had to put others first.

  “We will get through this, Niall. I know we will. Jamie and Isobel will get better, as will everyone else. This will all pass, we just hae tae be strong for them.”

  “I’m trying, Moira, I truly am,” Niall spoke quietly. He lifted his gaze, and Moira could see all the sadness in the world interred in those eyes. There were shadows on his face, and he parted his lips to exhale heavily. “It’s just sae hard. My da…he always seemed to know what tae dae. There were never any moments when he failed tae act and now I’m the laird and I feel as though I should know as well…but I’m at a loss.”

  “But what can ye dae?”

  “I can find the cause of this,” Niall said tersely, his hand clenched into a fist. Moira nodded, sensing the anger, but in her experience, no good decision had ever been made in anger.

  “But where would ye start?”

  “I dinnae know!” he raised his voice and threw up his hand. Moira was startled, and Niall immediately looked apologetic. Moira knew that his frustration was not directed at her. They had to remember that it was them against the situation rather than against each other. Moira pursed her lips and paced around the room, standing behind a chair. She rested her hands against it and drummed her fingers.

  “I haed Grizel in here nae long ago. The poor woman is out of her mind with worry,” Moira said.

  “Aye, she’s been out of her mind for a long time,” Niall said, chuckling at his joke.

  Moira remained silent, as she didn’t think it was very funny.

  “She’s worried, Niall, and she knows a great deal about the land and everything around us. What if she’s right and there haes been a curse placed on us? Given that we know sae little about what’s happening, can we afford tae ignore her warnings?”

  Niall shook his head. “Ye sound just like Isobel. Grizel tells stories, that’s all she does. She lives in a world of make-believe. I cannae act as though this clan haes been targeted by a spell. I’m nae gaeing tae believe that spirits and demons are attacking us. How
am I supposed tae fight a demon?” he asked.

  Moira didn’t have an answer for him. “There must be a logical explanation, something that actually could hae happened. I’m nae gaeing tae accuse demons when there are plenty of men around who could hae done this.”

  “Who would want tae hurt the clan?” Moira asked, furrowing her brow. In her mind, this was just as unrealistic as demons and spirits.

  The Calbraith clan had been notorious for being vicious, and there had been a few enemies over the years, but their recent history was different. With Niall taking over from his father, there had been a change in attitude and it was plain to see from everyone around.

  The area had developed peace, and everyone was better off for it. Why would anyone want to jeopardize this? Niall had a pensive look on his face. He swallowed deeply and his hand rose to his bare chin, stroking it thoughtfully.

  “There is one man I could think of,” he muttered, his voice just above a whisper.

  “Who?” Moira asked.

  Niall seemed to take an age to respond, as though what he was going to say would change their relationship irrevocably. He took deep breaths, but he continued to stare at her intently.

  “Yer brother,” he said. The words were soft, and the tone of them was harmless, but for two such simple words, they elicited such strong emotions. Moira physically recoiled, and her hand rose to her mouth to stifle a gasp.

  Her face twisted, and she felt as though she had been punched in the gut. Tasting bile in the back of her throat, she shook her head, as though she didn’t believe that he had actually said what he said. But Niall’s expression was plain, and there was no doubting the suspicious thoughts that had passed through his mind.

  His jaw was set and he seemed determined to follow this through. Moira’s mind was awhirl; she didn’t know what to think. In her opinion, it was far more likely for spirits to be the cause of this curse than Marcas! He had changed, had been the driving force for peace.

  How could Niall accuse him of such a crime? If he was so ready to accuse Marcas, then what must he have thought of her?

  Suddenly all the positive emotions drained out of her. She wondered if her emotions had been an illusion all this time. Had she merely convinced herself that Niall loved her for the sake of being happy in her new home? Was this all a lie she told herself so that she could cope with the changing tides of her life? She stared at Niall, aghast, part of her tempted to flee for home and leave this all behind.

  But she was married now and wouldn’t be able to do that.

  13

  Moira stared at the man she loved, wondering if she loved him at all. He was impassive.

  “Ye dinnae mean that. Ye cannae mean that,” she said, her voice trembling with emotion.

  “Why nae? There haes been a long-standing rivalry between our clans. I pushed him hard in our negotiations. Maybe he didnae like how I treated him. Yer family haes a history with poisons. Yer uncle Roderick used them, and I know Marcas spent a lot of time with him growing up. Marcas could hae learned from him. He could hae done something at the wedding or—”

  “How dare ye!” Moira growled. She was smaller than him, yet in that moment, she felt as tall as a giant and she was as intimidating as a dragon. Her hands curled into tight balls, and her eyes blazed with fury. “Marcas haes never been anything but kind tae ye! He could hae refused ye at any turn and kept things the way they hae always been between our clans, but he didnae. He gave ye what ye wanted for the sake of peace. He gave ye me! Are ye sae angry that ye would blame him?”

  “He’s a Monroe,” Niall said with a dramatic sweep of his hand. “I think ye think tae highly of yer brother.”

  “I’m a Monroe tae.”

  “Ye are a Calbraith now.”

  “Aye, maybe in name, but by blood, I’m a Monroe and I always will be. I am nae gaeing tae stand here and listen tae ye accuse my brother. I came here for him, for our clans tae ensure peace. I was sae scared, but when I met ye, I thought ye were lovely, and I thought we were falling in love. Maybe I was wrong.

  This isnae a good look for ye, Niall. I dinnae like the man I am seeing. Does peace mean nothing? Does the future mean nothing? Are ye gaeing tae be sae quick tae condemn a man without even knowing him?”

  “I know enough,” Niall sneered.

  “Oh aye? Dae ye really? Because if ye really knew Marcas then ye would know he detests poisons after what happened. He never liked them because of what happened tae our mother, and especially nae after what happened tae him. His wife was thrown in jail, and he almost died because of Roderick. Why would he want tae follow in Roderick’s footsteps?”

  “I dinnae know...maybe he hates the fact that I asked for yer hand?” Niall offered.

  Moira’s heart swelled with anger, and she shook her head vehemently.

  “Marcas would never put me in danger like that. If he did this, how could he be sure that I wouldnae be poisoned? Ye are nae making any sense.

  If ye truly think the Monroes are this duplicitous, then how can ye be married tae me? Next thing is ye’ll be accusing me as well,” Moira said, laughing incredulously, “I bet ye are gaeing tae suggest that I’m working with him.” Her words descended into laughter at the ridiculousness of the situation, but when she looked at Niall, she noticed he wasn’t laughing.

  In fact, he had a strange look on his face, one that she didn’t like at all. It seemed as though he was actually considering this as a possibility. The color drained from Moira’s face. She placed her hands on her hips, staring at him intensely.

  “Ye are thinking it, aren’t ye?!” she shrieked.

  “I’m the laird. I hae tae think of every possibility,” he said quietly, numbly.

  “Aye, sae ye would rather believe that yer wife haes been lying tae ye rather than in spirits. I see how this is. Well, I’m nae gaeing tae be a part of this. I hae seen how secrets and lies hae torn a family apart.

  I haed tae watch my ma die because she drank the wrong thing, and then I haed tae fear for my brother as well. I would never use poison. And if ye think I could, then maybe there is no hope for us at all. If ye are still gaeing tae be suspicious, then this marriage is nae gaeing tae work. I cannae love a man who thinks I would be capable of something like this.”

  Without saying anything else, Moira spun on her heels and stormed out of the room in a flurry of sorrow and tears. Her last vision was of Niall standing in the room, a man left alone with his thoughts and suspicions, looking forlorn and lost.

  Moira’s footsteps were heavy as she stormed through the castle. The maids and servants smiled when they saw her, but when they became aware of the look on her face, they turned away, afraid of feeling the brunt of her wrath. It was highly likely that the whole castle had heard some of her confrontation with Niall as their voices had been raised, but she didn’t care.

  If Niall wanted to lead them back into the darkness of suspicion, then so be it. But how could he think these things of her? It didn’t make sense after all they had shared. Was there something deep inside them that would prevent them from trusting each other? Was there something between the Calbraiths and the Monroes that meant the clans would always be at war with each other?

  If so, that didn’t bode well for Moira’s future. She had started to dream of a life here, one filled with happiness and joy, but that started to become murky and vague. The images were being dispelled, as though they too were being poisoned. Moira stopped for a moment and leaned against a wall.

  She arched her body and choked out a few sobs. The last time she had felt this much pain was during the whole ordeal with Roderick. At the time, she had sworn she would never feel anything like that again, but clearly, it wasn’t as simple as that. The stone wall was cold against her palm. Nearby, a door led outside the castle. Beyond that were the dark forests and roads—roads that led back to a home she was familiar with, a home where she knew she was loved, a home that had her friends and her family.

  A home where nothing like this could e
ver happen to her. In a flurry of tears, she berated Marcas for ever sending her out here. She had been happy at home and content with her life. There was nothing she wanted for, but then she had to be sent to this forsaken place.

  There was a bitter taste on her tongue as her gaze lingered on the door. Even though it was late, it would have been so easy to sneak out and leave this place behind, to run to Marcas and tell him all what was happening and how Niall had been so quick to accuse them.

  But Moira was intelligent enough to know what would happen next. Marcas would be angry at the dishonorable way Niall had acted, and would rouse his forces to teach Niall some respect. Even if Moira didn’t tell Marcas the reason why she returned home, it was likely that Niall would attack, as fleeing now would draw suspicion to her and Niall might well think himself correct in the assumption that this had all been some nefarious scheme by the Monroe clan.

  Either way, there would be war, and that wasn’t why Moira had been sent here. She was supposed to be a harbinger of peace, and she was determined to live up to that.

  Despite Niall being one of the most difficult and stubborn men she had ever met, she could not deny the feelings for him that existed in her heart.

  They were married and had taken sacred vows. These could not be dismissed easily. She had to try and fix this and figure out what was happening, even if Niall was happy to point fingers at whoever had wronged him in the past.

  She turned and made her way to the library, deciding not to flee on this night.

  The library was located in one of the deepest parts of the castle. The walls were old and cracked, and there was a chill in the air as she receded deeper into the darkness. The torch she carried illuminated the surroundings in a dancing amber glow, beating back the musty, dusty ambiance.