by Lily Harlem
“Dear Lord, I thought I was going to die and go to heaven then,” McTavish panted. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes glistened.
“It’s so good,” she managed, slotting her fingers into his damp hair. “Promise me…”
“Anything?”
“It will always be that good.”
“It will get better, that is my promise.”
He kissed her as her pussy continued to clamp around his cock, the last of her orgasm causing her to tremble in his arms and her heart to flutter. His kiss was different now, more intimate. This was the kiss of her husband, the man she would be with for all of time.
Eventually he withdrew.
She pulled her legs together, aware of the slick dampness between them.
“I hope we’ll be blessed with bairns,” he said, standing and walking to the water’s edge.
“That is also my wish.”
“I’m glad.” He waded in a shallow spot. “Come here, wash so you are comfortable while we eat and for the ride back to the castle.”
Standing, Isla walked to the water. She was tender down below and her heart still beating faster than normal. She also had a lovely sense of satisfaction, as though she’d eaten when hungry or slept when exhausted. But it was more so, the satisfaction, it was deep within her mind and body.
With a smile she took McTavish’s offered hand and stepped into the cold water. After a quick dip and a splash she retreated to the bank, feeling cold now that the excitement of arriving at the glen had diminished.
McTavish watched her dress, then donned his kilt and reached into the saddlebags of the grazing horse.
Within seconds he’d laid out a blanket covered in a delicious spread of food. There was cranberry jellied pie, cold roast chicken, apples, and herbed potatoes.
Isla’s mouth watered and she realized she’d skipped breakfast. She’d been so carried away with caring for Una and making the ill wish.
The ill wish, damn it.
She took a bite of pie and dipped her head. Her new husband would not be pleased if he knew she’d cursed Rabbie Finlay. She didn’t even need to ask him to know he’d be displeased. It would likely earn her a first spanking.
But he never needed to ken, did he. It was done now, and done before he’d placed a ring on her finger. She wouldn’t give it another thought.
Chapter Eleven
Isla wrung her hands together as McTavish’s horse crested the horizon. She could barely stand the desolation she felt at seeing him leave Fifths Castle with several of his men. They were headed for Edinburgh as planned.
They’d only just found each other. Only just had their union blessed by a passing priest—in a quiet ceremony—and now he was gone.
‘It’s only for a few days, then we will never be apart again, my love.’
His whispered words came back to her. He’d gone on to explain his meeting with a sympathetic English duke could become dangerous and he didn’t want to put Isla at any risk. There would be times like that going forward. Although he intended to take her with him on his travels occasionally, she would be required to keep her head low and safe. The future was uncertain in these troubled times.
The horses finally went entirely from view.
Turning to the drawbridge, Isla pressed her hands to her belly wondering if a child were growing already. She’d taken McTavish’s seed inside her body four more times since they’d been at the glen. It was perfectly possibly Mother Nature had done her work.
Mrs. Humphrey, Diane, and Una all knew about her marriage to McTavish, as did the laird. But until her husband returned she’d insisted on working as normal.
McTavish had started to argue but when she’d pointed out the other maids would work their fingers to the bone while she sat with her feet up, he’d permitted her to continue. On the provision she didn’t empty chamber pots; he wouldn’t have his wife doing that. She was to remember who she was married to and that when they eventually returned to his home she’d be a lady with a staff of her own.
Diane and Una were busy cleaning the suite the laird’s nephew and his new wife used, so Isla began helping Mrs. Humphrey with the dough making. Once that was done she moved on to collecting eggs with the cats around her ankles and then chopped onions for the broth being made for that night’s dinner. There were fewer people in the castle with McTavish and his men away on rebellion business.
He might not be in sight but he’s with me.
She turned the ring that sat on her finger and couldn’t suppress a smile as his face came to her mind’s eye. She was so lucky. So in love. Nothing could spoil her mood, not even the onions that insisted on making her eyes water.
“Where is she?”
Isla looked at the kitchen door and then at Mrs. Humphrey. “Who’s that?”
“I don’t ken.” Mrs. Humphrey wiped flour from her hands.
“Where is she? Where is the witch?” The deep booming voice was getting closer. “Let me at her.”
“Aye, get her!”
“She must be here.”
There was a loud stomp of feet on the hard hallway floor—more than one person’s footfall.
A sudden wave of nausea attacked Isla. Bile bit at her gullet. Her sixth sense told her this was not good. It was as if a heavy blanket had suddenly been wrapped around her shoulders. Her chest tightened and a tremble attacked her legs.
“Where is the witch? I ken she’s here.”
A huge figure invaded the doorframe, his wide shoulders filling it and his rotund belly only half covered by his wrongly buttoned shirt. He had a thick black beard and wild hair. His cheeks were red and rugged and his boots heavy with dirt.
In his hand he held a collection of sticks, feathers, parsley, and a round brass pocket watch.
Isla clutched her belly, fearing the contents of her lunch would appear.
Rabbie Finlay had found the ill wish.
“There she is.” He strode into the kitchen with his attention set firmly on Isla.
Isla gasped and took a step backward.
Mrs. Humphrey quickly moved in front of her. “What is the meaning of this? Get out of my kitchen at once, ye heathen.”
Five other men and three woman marched in behind Rabbie.
“All of ye.” Mrs. Humphrey picked up a wooden spoon and shook it at the crowd. “How did you get past the guards?”
“The guards also want to ken why ye are protecting a witch?” Rabbie snarled.
“Och, don’t talk rubbish. There’s nay witches here at Fifths Castle.”
“There’s a witch in this very room,” one of the women screeched and pointed at Isla. “Right there.”
“Aye,” another man said, gritting his teeth and lunging forward. “There she is.”
Isla stepped backward until her shoulders hit the cold stonewall. Fear gripped her and she looked about, searching for an escape route. There was none.
“Get her!” Rabbie shouted and waved the ill wish high in the air.
Una suddenly rushed in, holding up her skirts. She looked around the kitchen as if taking in the situation then her gaze settled on Isla for the briefest of moments.
In that split second Isla saw the betrayal in the other maid’s eyes. It was the slight narrowing then the quick look away that told the story of treachery.
“What is the meaning of this?” Mrs. Humphrey demanded. “Tell me now so I ken what you’re all saying.”
“You ken full well you harbour a witch,” Rabbie said. “Una has told me enough over the years to ken this is the case.” Once again he shook the ill wish, so hard this time that several stalks of parsley and a feather fluttered to the kitchen floor.
“What yarns has Una told ye?” Mrs. Humphrey glanced over her shoulder at Isla then turned back to Rabbie. “Because that’s what they’ll be I tell you. Yarns from a maid with an overactive imagination.”
“Potions and spells, chanting and cats,” Rabbie sneered, spittle catching in the corners of his mouth.
“Poppy
cock, that’s all made up.” Mrs. Humphrey huffed.
“And her imagination made this, did it?” Rabbie suddenly flung the ill wish toward Mrs. Humphrey. She ducked to the side to avoid it hitting her head. “Och, see, you dunny want to touch it either. You’re not that brave and you’re not convinced she isn’t a witch.” He stepped forward, rounding Mrs. Humphrey and closing in on Isla. His cronies were right behind him.
“No, please.” Isla scooted to the left. “You’ve made a mistake. Please, leave me be.” Panic surged through her veins. The look in Rabbie’s eyes was satanic. He wanted blood and death—her blood, her death.
“Leave you be? So you can make more ill wishes and curse us,” one of the villagers said, her nose wrinkling as she showed a mouth missing several teeth.
“I didn’t make that ill wish.” Isla pointed at it on the floor. “I swear I didn’t.”
“Your lying words mean nothing, witch,” Rabbie said, gripping her wrist.
“Please, get off me.”
McTavish. Oh, if only he was here.
She tried to yank herself free but with no luck. Rabbie was strong and dragged her forward. Another man shackled his hand around her opposite arm and helped pull her toward the doorway. Despite twisting this way and that and digging in her heels, Isla couldn’t escape.
“Denying that ye made the ill wish is futile,” Rabbie said as they drew level with Una.
Again Isla looked at Una, hardly surprised now when she turned away and looked at the floor.
“I found it,” Rabbie went on, “and my good for nothing wife was quick to offer up the information of where it had been sourced.” He laughed but the sound held no humour. “It was that or get another black eye and broken nose for her disobedience. I guess she figured your life was worth less than her discomfort.”
“No, no, I beg you. This is a mistake,” Isla cried.
“Bring her back. The laird will hear of this,” Mrs. Humphrey yelled. “And you will all pay with a thrashing.”
“Nay, old woman. He will reward us for ridding this she-devil from his property, you mark my word.”
Isla was in the hallway now, the familiar surroundings passing her by in a blur as Rabbie and the other men forcibly dragged her from the castle.
When sunlight hit her eyes a fresh wave of terror gripped her. They had a carriage, one with metal bars lining it so it resembled a cage. Where in Mother Nature’s name were they going to take her?
She was bundled into it; the harsh base scratched her knees and elbows and the rough handling jarred her back.
Mrs. Humphrey was rushing down the steps, her plump body going as fast as she could make it and her breasts jiggling.
“Please,” Isla called. “Get word to my husband. As soon as possible.”
“Aye, lass.” Mrs. Humphrey looked around at the jeering crowd who were now delighted they’d captured their witch. “I’ll do that.”
“Make haste,” Isla called.
“Aye, I promise.”
“Who would marry this woman of Satan?” Rabbie shouted. “There is no husband. Another lie.”
“Aye, there is a husband.” Isla gripped the bars on the cage she’d been placed in. “And he will have your head off for this, you’ll burn in hell for all of time with ravens pecking at your eyes and flames licking at your feet. I’ll see to that.” She narrowed her eyes and glared at him. “Shadows of darkness, spirits within, harness the energy of the moon and all it sees.” She paused. “By the black power of the crow, the dead feather and smoke which flies. Beware of the night. Prepare to see the other side.”
“See, proof that she is a witch,” Rabbie shouted. “You all heard that. She cursed me, again. If I die you’ll ken she was the cause.”
“Burn her!” someone yelled.
“Aye, burn her.”
A chant was set up as the carriage left the courtyard.
Isla shook with dread. The sudden change in her day had left her dizzy and terrified. This couldn’t be happening.
It is!
As they crossed the drawbridge she berated herself for ever making the ill wish. She’d been foolish to help Una. She’d never really been a friend. There’d always been slyness about her. She tolerated Isla, nothing more. That was proven when she’d given her up to her husband so easily.
Isla was jostled this way and that as the carriage headed toward the village. All she could do was hope Mrs. Humphrey had managed to persuade one of the stable hands to go after McTavish. But he had nearly a full day’s ride under his belt. It wouldn’t be easy to make up such distance even on one of the laird’s fastest horses.
To Isla’s horror when they arrived at the village an even bigger crowd had formed. Faces stared in at her, some with scared eyes as though she could kill them with a glance, others with excitement and clearly looking forward to the spectacle to come.
“Let me be,” she said, tears flowing down her cheeks. “I beg you. I’m just an ordinary lass.”
“An ordinary lass who curses good men.” A wrinkled old man stepped forward and spat at her.
“Oh!” Isla scuttled backward and brushed the blob of saliva from her bodice.
Another man spat, then a woman.
She hid her face in her hands. Sobs racked her chest. She’d been so foolish. Added to it by cursing Rabbie again for all to hear. And now she’d pay for it with her life.
“Get out.” Rough hands grabbed her. It was Rabbie. “You’ll be tried tomorrow.”
“Tried?” She stumbled as she was dragged from the carriage. “On what grounds?”
“Witchcraft.” He yanked her forward and the crowd parted.
“I tell ye, I’m nay a witch. This is all wrong. It’s naught but a silly few sticks and feathers and mumbled words. Means not a thing to anyone.”
“Save your lies for morrow. And until then you’ll stay in here.”
Before her was a barred iron door. It was set in a mound of earth. “No, please.” The damp darkness scared her as did the thought of the roof falling in and crushing her. “I beg you.”
“Devil’s servants don’t get a bed.” Rabbie tugged open the door then shoved her inside.
He used such force she staggered then fell sprawled on the hard wet ground.
“No.” She managed to get to her hands and knees. Her hair fell forward dragging in the dirt and her hands sank into the mud. “Please, no.”
Her body ached and hurt. She’d never been so scared in her life. In only a matter of hours she’d gone from being happy and looking forward to the future to facing death at the stake.
“Sacred Mother. Sacred Nature. Show me which way to go. I need to ken. I beg you to point the way at the end of this day.”
Chapter Twelve
The night was laden with a chill mist that seeped ghost-like into the hole Isla had been caged in. She hugged her knees and shivered as a rat scuttled past the gate. Tears still ran down her cheeks but she’d long since stopped swiping at them.
I have to get out of here.
She knew that was the case. But she’d rattled the bars trapping her until she’d had blisters on her palms and her shoulders had pained her. But even if she escaped, the villagers would catch her, she was sure of it.
I’ll run. I’ll run so fast no one will catch me. The devil himself won’t be able to catch me.
Cold seeped into her bones. She began to shiver, her teeth chattering. The clothes she wore offered little warmth against a Highland night. Soon her stiff limbs ached so much she wasn’t sure she’d be able to stand let alone run.
How she wished she could turn back time and refuse Una’s request for an ill wish. If she’d known Una would so easily give her up to the madding crowd she never would have agreed to it. It had been a reckless thing to do, to trust a woman who’d never earned her trust.
She closed her eyes and instantly McTavish’s face came to mind—his kind smile set in gruff features. Wild hair, strong jawline, love-filled eyes. More tears flowed, but not for her situati
on this time, but for the fact she’d never see the man she loved again. At first light, she was sure, a short trial would end with her being tied to a stake and set alight. She’d go from freezing cold to burning hot and then her soul would be all that was left in the pile of ash. A pile of ash she hoped would be taken by the spring breeze back to the glen she’d first made love to McTavish in. That was where she wanted to be for all of time. If this was her fate, then that was her last wish.
Eventually the sun creeped into the sky, bringing with it the chirp of the birds who cared not for her predicament and made a merry sound. She hunched further over, hating the dawn for with it came death.
A trial would not be fair. These people wanted blood, they wanted a killing, they wanted to see her burn to cinder. Nothing she could say or do would save her.
She was doomed.
Beyond the bars the village came to life. Cockerels crowed, children squealed and shouted, a donkey brayed. Deep men’s voices rumbled over the grass and a few women called out for children or animals.
Isla kept her head buried in her skirt, wishing she were back in her waterfall glen and in McTavish’s arms. That was what she’d think about as the flames licked up her body. She’d think of the joy and love he’d brought into her life, not of the hate these people had for her.
Her heartstrings tugged. He’d be crushed when he discovered she was dead, she knew that with everything she was. Their love was mutual. Two souls who had truly connected and had the blessing of all the good energies within the earth, wind, and sky.
“Get out here, witch.” A loud clang and the scrape of metal on earth. “Now.”
She was forcibly extracted from her prison and dragged to standing. Her spine felt as though it had been stabbed with a thousand needles and her legs had turned to lead.
Rabbie gripped her arms behind her back and shoved her forward.
It was then she saw it. A pyre had been prepared, complete with a thick wooden stake.
Nausea gripped her “No, no. This is a mistake.”
“Shut up, wench.” He shook her and her straggly, dirt-filled hair stuck to her cheeks, a strand went in her mouth and she spat it out.