Their protector took the horses to graze, and sat on a boulder that was nearby. He leaned back on the rock, watching them with a bored expression on his face. A few minutes later, he pulled out his claymore, and began to polish it with a section of his plaid. But Darra was peering into the horizon, searching for her roots, and paying no heed to her companions.
She moved to stand next to Darra. “How do ye ken what tae search for?” she asked, curious. While Adrina had trekked through the woodlands, and played in the moors when she was younger, she had never paid any attention to the plants on the ground. If she was honest with herself, all vegetation resembled coarse weeds that clumped abundantly together in the heath.
Darra looked at her briefly and smiled. “When you are the daughter of a renowned healer, ‘tis impossible not to know the difference between plant, roots and anything else that you come across in nature.” As if to prove her point, she picked up an acorn that had fallen from the large oak tree that grew beside them. “Do you see this? This humble nut is good for drawing luck to you, and to keep you in good health. However in order to reap the benefits, you must carry it with you at all times.” She handed Adrina the acorn before her slender hand moved to the trunk of the tree. A thick layer of lichen and moss grew on one side of the trunk. Touching the bark, she ran her palm along the rough surface almost with affection. “The bark of the oak tree, however, can be pounded to a fine powder, and used for tooth pain and gum sores. ‘Tis too many people who suffer from these ailments.” She then let out a laugh that sounded pleasant and musical. “Forgive me, milady. You did not accompany me so you could hear me lecture on the benefits of the oak tree. When I go out to gather my supplies, I often become sidetracked.” She pushed herself away from the tree. “Mother will be waiting for me to bring her back the fresh nettle and angelica roots,” she said. “Although it might prove to be a bit of a challenge at this time.” She frowned as she scanned the ground. She was right. Most of the vegetation had either shriveled up or turned into a brown, unidentifiable mass on the ground. Then Darra’s eyes alighted when she saw a mess of bramble and greenery. She moved closer to a spread of flowering plants that grew to about two feet high. Long clusters of green flowers were visible from the axils of the leaves.
“Here are some nettles,” she said with satisfaction. She set her basket on the ground.
Adrina moved to help her, but the other woman put out her arm to block her passage. “The leaves of the nettle are full of bristling hairs.” She picked up a stick and poked at the heart-shaped blades. Flipping it over, she exposed the tiny hairs that grew on the underside of the serrated leaves. “If you touch them, blisters will form on your hands. Since ‘tis not the blades that we need, we can beat the plant down in order to get to the rootstock.”
She pressed the stick on the plants, and using her booted foot, she stomped them to the ground. Then quickly withdrawing the dagger from her belt, she cut at the stems. In short time, and using the stick as a tool, she cleared the area.
Adrina unsheathed her own dagger, and started to help her dig into the soft ground. With two people working, they were able to pull out three large-sized nettle roots.
“This should be enough,” Darra said, leaning back on her heels and grinning at her. She placed the yellow roots into her basket. “’Tis unfortunate that you will be gone from here soon. I think with some training you could learn much about recognizing plants.”
“I can only recognize trees,” Adrina said, letting out a small laugh. “Anything else is just a green heap tae me. However with your guidance, I can certainly help with root gathering.”
She smiled graciously. “I would like that, however I expect that you will be leaving us by tomorrow.”
Adrina looked at her, stunned. “Tomorrow?”
“That is correct. It takes several hours to brew the concoction. Once my mother is finished, she will need to steep it overnight to increase its potency. You will need to inform your escorts about the wait.”
“’Tis all right. I didnae bring any escorts with me when I traveled here.” Adrina twisted her mouth into a smile, trying her best to tamp down her disappointment. She wished to leave as soon as possible. However, it was too much to hope that her troubles could be quickly and easily resolved. She wiped her dagger on the brown moss that grew at the base of the oak tree, and slipped it back into its sheath. When she looked up, she found the other woman staring at her.
“I cannot believe that you traveled here by yourself,” Darra said, her forehead wrinkled with concern.
“I did,” she said, regretting her slip. Any man wouldn’t have allowed his daughter to travel alone. There were too many hazards that lurked in the roads, and she might have even come across the Black Donald. However if she had paid heed to those risks, she might have stayed in Dunnvie Castle, and be of no use to her people. Lifting her shoulders in a shrug, she continued, “But nay harm came tae me. Through the grace of God, I managed tae arrive at Tancraig Castle without encountering a single Broken Man, nor have I seen the Black Donald.”
“Fortune has smiled upon you indeed,” Darra agreed, and let out a shudder. “I heard that the Broken Men are shunned by society, and ‘tis for good reason. ‘Tis certain that they run loose with the devil that you mentioned.”
Adrina nodded, uncomfortable with where the conversation was headed. She started to walk toward the horses when she glanced back, and noticed that the other woman hadn’t followed her.
She turned back. “Are we nae done yet, milady?”
“Nay, we still need to obtain the angelica roots,” she said, craning her neck as she surveyed the land. “And I think I see some.”
She then moved to another area where a cluster of blooming tiny flowers grew. The white blossoms contrasted vividly with the purple and gray heather that grew beside them. Crouching once more, she dug into the ground, loosening the roots. She grabbed ahold of the stems and pulled the roots free.
Adrina had trailed after her, and bent down to her once again, but Darra shook her head. “’Tis enough,” she said, brushing the back of her hand against her forehead. She leaned back on her heels, and looked at Adrina, the expression on her face serious. “We will go back to the castle now. But when we return, I shall speak to Rory.”
“There’s nay need —”
“Aye, there is a need,” she interrupted. “When I traveled from my home, I ran into an unscrupulous knight that would have ravished me had I been alone and defenseless,” she let out a shudder before she gathered her precious rootstocks, and placed them in her small basket. “A woman traveling alone is not wise, and I cannot allow you to travel without a proper escort. While you were fortunate to be unharmed when you traveled here, ‘tis my experience that luck cannot be relied upon.”
Darra stood up, and lifting her hand, she beckoned for the guard to come forward.
Their guide pushed himself away from the tree, the expression on his face giving way to relief. He helped them get on their mounts, and led them back to the castle.
As they entered the courtyard, they stopped by the well to rinse the dirt off of the roots. The courtyard was busier than ever, with various lairds, ladies and their offspring wandering around the protected area.
When they arrived at Venora’s workspace near the kitchen, they found the healer humming to herself. She looked up when Darra set the small basket on the table next to her.
“Oh,” she said, a startled expression on her countenance. “I did not think you would return so soon.”
“’Twas Adrina who brought us good luck. We found the roots without any trouble.”
Venora eagerly dug her hands into the basket, and pulled out a rootstock. She held them up to the light and sighed. “Good,” she said. “I was a little afraid that I would have to resort to the dry roots that I had. However using fresh ones are better, and will make the concoction much stronger.” She turned to Adrina and nodded. “The potion will finish brewing by tomorrow.”
“Lady Dar
ra has told me this.” She clasped her hands in front of her chest. “I thank ye for doing this, milady.” Then remembering that she needed to pay Venora, she reached into the purse that hung at her belt.
“Here, take these coins for payment,” she said.
Venora covered Adrina’s hand and gently folded it into a fist. “Keep your money, lass.”
Adrina opened her mouth to protest.
“Nay, you are in need.” The older woman shook her head.
“Thank ye,” she whispered. Even though she didn’t say it out loud, she knew that Venora sympathized with her plight. At least someone believed the seriousness of her dilemma, and didn’t think that she was mad.
Venora tilted her head to the side, and gazed at Adrina as if she was searching her soul. “There is something about you…” she said, her voice trailing off while her expression turned thoughtful.
“I must speak with Rory in the great hall,” Darra said, interrupting. “Will you be joining us, Mother?”
“Nay, you go ahead. There is much work to be done, and I must finish preparing this potion.”
***
By the time they walked toward the great hall, Adrina was exhausted and longed to return to her bedchamber and rest. By now everyone knew that she had arrived in her father’s place, and if she was to live up to her lie, she needed to represent her clan.
As soon as they stepped into the great hall, her eyes scanned the room, noting that there were more people converging into the large space. This was to be expected since she recognized that the gathering of warriors was a serious affair. These men would go to war, but how many would live to see their loved ones? Very few. A ripple of dread coursed through her, and she tried in vain to shake away the awful feeling. There was nothing she could do to prevent the coming battle, since it was unlikely that they would heed a woman’s warning about the perils of warfare. Fighting had never helped their people or their country. It left too many widows and orphans, but she also knew that many believed that there was no other choice but to enter into conflict with the English. Not doing anything would allow them to fall easily into the hands of tyranny and even more bloodshed.
Adrina immediately saw Rory MacGregon conversing with two other men, who bore a striking resemblance to him. Her gaze was just about to slide past the three large highlanders, but for some reason her eyes swung back to the slender dark-haired figure that stood to the right of Rory. At the moment, the man’s back was turned to her, so she allowed her eyes to trace the outline of his fine physique. Like Rory, he was over six feet tall and shared a similar massive build. His shoulders were broad, and even through his shirt, she could tell that his back was a wall of muscle. He wore a great kilt, the muted colors unique to his clan. She had seen men in kilts all her life, but it was the lithe and powerful body beneath this plaid that made him impressive to behold. In fact, it left no question about his virility or his magnificent masculinity. The very way he held himself belied a languid, almost predatory grace that was asleep yet would no doubt be lethal when unleashed.
She felt a shiver run through her. The man was a relation to MacGregon; she was sure of it. The brothers were known to be braw, fierce, and charming. It was no wonder that women young and old swooned over them. And it was also obvious that they took after their sire.
As they walked, Darra continued with her descriptions of various herbs and plants, but Adrina could scarcely concentrate on her words. When she drew closer still, she had a nagging suspicion that she had met this brawny stranger before. While she couldn’t exactly place it, the air of danger, intrigue and dominance that clung to him seemed familiar somehow. But how could she have known him? She had little interaction with men outside of her clan.
A light streamed from a window high above, the ray of light hitting the Highlander’s dark locks. He must have felt her scrutiny because he turned in her direction. Her gaze focused on his features, and for a split second, her breath seized in her lungs before involuntarily escaping in a rush. She tried to set one foot in front of the other, although her legs suddenly felt unsteady. It was him, the brawny Highlander from her dream. If she had thought he was appealing in her imaginary world, he was even more attractive in person. Somehow he was larger, stronger, and the energy he exuded screamed of his dangerous, virile nature.
All at once she felt flushed and excited at seeing him. Her palms itched to run along the contours of his broad chest while her lips tingled with anticipation of his kiss. But would he know who she was? Of course not, the logical side of her brain argued. Even thinking of that possibility was ridiculous. She had imagined many things in her sleep, and while some events came true, others were just a passing fancy. But he was standing in front of her, another part of her mind argued. Surely her eyesight wasn’t tricking her.
“Are you unwell, milady?” Darra halted her speech and glanced sharply at her.
“Nay,” Adrina said weakly. The concern in Darra’s voice forced her out of her stupor. And when she focused on the other woman’s face, she felt her cheeks begin to flush with embarrassment. She groped for the clasp at her shoulder, and when her fingers found it, she forced her voice to sound stronger. “I’m fine. I thought I saw someone I knew.”
Darra nodded as if she understood, but then her sunny disposition faded, and was replaced with a hint of sadness. “There are quite a few people here for the gathering. ‘Tis unfortunate ‘tis not a happy occasion.” She let out a small sigh. “I wish that our two countries would just get along.”
“Aye,” Adrina said, remembering that Darra and her mother had arrived from England not too long ago. While it appeared that the MacGregons accepted them, there were some people who were still hostile toward Rory’s beautiful wife. But she bravely ignored their dark looks, and Adrina admired her for her strength. War and fighting were the affairs of men. It was unfortunate that the women, children and elderly also became ensnared in it.
The trestle tables were all set, but the guests were only now entering into the hall. Darra led her through the throng of people, and toward the head table where Rory was already seated. But as Adrina got closer, she couldn’t contain her curiosity any longer. Turning to Darra, she said, “That man beside your husband, the dark-haired one, who is he?”
She angled her head to look at where Adrina indicated. “Why ‘tis Duncan, one of Rory’s brothers,” she said.
Adrina could feel her heart thudding even louder in her chest, blocking out all other noise. Yet while the man watched her approach, there was no recognition in his expression. Compared to her dream impression, he seemed even more solid and definitely more fascinating in real life. And though a distance still existed between them, she was drawn to his masculinity like a moth to a candle flame. It was unlikely that he would look at her with anything akin to desire. Yet her lips tingled as if they already knew the scorching pleasure of his kiss.
Darra raised her hand to wave at him, flagging his attention. And when a smile broke over Duncan’s handsome countenance, Adrina’s mouth went dry. It was absolutely sinful that a man could appear so deadly one moment and then full of charm the next.
Turning to Adrina, she said, “Come, let me introduce you to Duncan and Griogair.”
Duncan watched as his sister-in-law arrived with an unknown female at her side. At their approach, he noticed a beam of light glancing off the ornate brooch that was pinned at the woman’s shoulder. The heavy gold jewel contained a series of small gemstones that was encircled by a larger one.
But the beauty of the clasp was nothing compared to the compelling lass who wore it. She possessed a shiny mass of chestnut-brown tresses, which fell over her shoulders like a cascade of water. As she came near enough for him to make out her features, he saw the graceful arching eyebrows that framed almond-shaped eyes. Her oval visage was pretty and contained a small refined nose and high cheekbones. While those delicate characteristics gave her an exotic appeal, it was her generous lips that drew his notice. And for some reason he longed to exp
lore them thoroughly.
She was petite, he noticed. However the unconscious grace of her movements, and the curves on her luscious body demonstrated that she wasn’t a bairn but a full-grown woman. Her breasts, while not large, would fit nicely into the palms of his hands. And her slender waist and rounded hips were formed perfectly for his touch. Yet for all the sweet attributes she possessed, there was also an air of wildness and defiance about her.
“Who is the bonny lass with Darra?” he asked.
Rory turned his head to look at his wife and her companion. “’Tis Adrina, daughter of Tavon MacGill.”
“MacGill,” he repeated thoughtfully. “Is it nae odd that the daughter is present while her father isnae? Where is the chieftain?”
“I dinnae ken,” Rory said shortly. “She didnae get into detail about why her sire isnae here. She says that she’s come tae obtain help for her people. According tae the lass, her clansmen are under some form of enchantment.”
He leveled his gaze at his brother, one brow cocked. “And ye believe her?”
Rory shrugged. “I allowed Darra and her mother tae see tae the lass’ request. Whether or nae I believe in her story of enchantment is irrelevant. I have bigger concerns on my mind. And besides, her request will keep my wife and her mother occupied for a time.”
Duncan nodded, understanding his brother’s unspoken concern. Even though Darra was now married to a powerful chief, there were still some people in the sept who disapproved of the union. Admittedly, Duncan wasn’t thrilled with the sassenach when he first met her, but the lass had a way of stealing one’s heart. She was now a part of Clan MacGregon, and he hated to see her condemned by those who never bothered to become acquainted with her.
“Adrina does not have anyone to accompany her home,” Darra announced as soon as they were within earshot.
The Highland Curse (Scottish Strife Series Book 2) Page 2