This was what was important, he told himself. The land. The land and his clan.
In that moment he made his decision.
As soon as he returned he would let Julia Addison go free.
Chapter Fourteen
Despite her confusion and longing for Darach, Julia made use of the time while he was away. Tommy was progressing at a great rate in his lessons, and her twentieth-century know-how was challenged to find new and more advanced skills for him to learn. She was taking knitting lessons from Dugan, as well as learning a great deal about chicken husbandry. Liam supplied her with Gaelic and Latin terms for the plants around the clachan, as well as an endless supply of quotes for all occasions. Ross was becoming a fair cook under her tutelage, and all the lairds joined in her morning Yoga sessions.
One evening, after stories around the Bruce's cozy "ingle," as they called the circle of fire in the center of his floor, the men all rose as one and began a strange and wonderful ritual. "Smаladh an teine," Liam explained to her as the men smoothed the ashes and laid large squares of peat and ashes over the embers. "We call it 'smoorin' the fire.'"
Dugan began to chant in his rumbling bass voice.
The Sacred Three
To save,
To shield,
To surround
The hearth. The household,
This eve,
This nicht. This nicht,
And every nicht,
Each single nicht.
Julia was delighted. "What a wonderful way to say good night," she said.
"Not only good night, but a blessing on the house," said Liam.
"And best o' all," offered the Bruce, taking her arm as they walked to the door, "in the mornin' the fire kindles as quick as a thought."
He bade them all a good rest, and Ross and Tommy escorted her back to Darach's house, where they were staying in their chief's absence. She climbed the stairs to her room with a smile.
It was like having seven older brothers, she thought. Eight, counting Alasdair. She knew she couldn't make the number nine, for her feelings for Darach were far from brotherly. Yet it seemed as if the other lairds were coming to accept her for who she was now, and included her in most of their activities and even some of their plans.
On the fifth day after Darach and Alasdair had ridden away, the lairds took Julia fishing. Delighted to be out and eager to try her hand at some fish dishes for the men, she dressed in her slacks and sweater and joined them on the hike to the burn, where they said the best fish were to be caught.
Tommy raced ahead and back as they went, and Bruce decorously took up the rear with Julia, whose Highland stamina was not up to par yet. The burn proved to be a fast-running stream, rocky and cold, and the men set out onto the rocks with long-handled nets to catch the plentiful trout.
Julia watched and helped, then, spying some herbs on the bank, hopped over the rocks to examine them. She was happily cropping some wild mint when she saw a figure standing a ways off, among the bracken that ringed the edge of the woods.
She stood and shaded her eyes with her hand. She couldn't make out a face, but the figure was dressed in a plaid and holding his arm as if he'd been injured. She started toward him.
He was of medium height and strongly built, but all Julia saw was the blood that dripped from his left arm. ''Hello," she called out as she approached. "Do you need some help?"
"Aye," the man called. His voice sounded tight, as if it was an effort to speak.
She hurried over to him, wiping her hands on her slacks. "You've hurt your arm. Did you cut it?"
He nodded. She stood a few feet away from him. "I know a little bit about first aid. Would you like me to look at it?"
He nodded, a weak smile lighting his wind-worn features. She returned the smile as she stepped up and peered at the blood-soaked shirt. "I may have to cut that away," she told him. "Do you have a knife or a"
Her words were cut off. The man sprang behind her and quickly wrapped a leather strap about her throat.
Julia clawed at the choker, her panic a live thing within her. She stretched her mouth wide to scream, but a harsh whisper was all she could summon up. Her breath was close to running out, her chest burned, and her face felt as large as a balloon. She was going to die, she thought, her heart pounding out a frenzied beat. She was going to die out here in the woods, alone.
All at once, her basic self-defense training came back to her. She raised one foot and smashed it down on his instep. Using his surprise to her advantage, she elbowed him, hard, in the solar plexus. He dropped the choker with a yell. She dealt one last blow, slamming her foot against his shin. She heard the bone crack and down he went, gasping in pain. She fled toward the burn.
Ross caught her as she tore over the rocks and into their midst. "Halt, Julia, what's the matter?" He held her away from him and looked her over. His face went white and hard. "Who's been at ye, lass?"
The others began gathering around her, nets in their hands. Julia could only gasp for breath, glad that it was coming and going as it should, but shuddering with pain at the raw, ragged feeling inside her throat. At last she could speak. "Over there," she said, pointing to the woods. "Hetriedchoked me. . . ."
Ross, Tommy, Niall, and Gordon were off before she finished speaking. Liam and Bruce helped her to a seat on the rocks and brought her cool water to drink and a wet cloth to bathe her neck.
"Wee Julia," Bruce said, his voice as stern as any king's, "are ye hurt in any other way save your neck?"
She shook her head. "No. He just" She held up her hands. It was too painful to speak through her swollen throat.
"Good, good." Liam patted her hand. "Ye're hurt, but still alive. Did ye get a look at this fellow?"
She shook her head once again. "Too fast," she whispered.
Bruce thumped his staff. "Insolent blackguards!" he cried. "There'll be hell to pay for this mischief!"
"Aye," said Liam. "We'll no' let ye go unavenged. We'll hunt him down and see that he's made to pay for his crime, dinna ye worry." She couldn't do much more than sit there, shaking. The others came back at a run.
"We couldna find him, Julia," Gordon said. "Did ye see which way he ran?"
She stared at him in amazement. "Ran? I can't imagine how he could have run anywhere. II broke his leg. I'm sure of it."
"Ye did?" Niall's expression was skeptical.
"Yes," she croaked. "Self-defense classes. I smashed my foot into his shin. I heard the bone snap."
Ross looked upset. "Julia, lass, there's hardly a sign o' anyone havin' been there. Save for this." He lifted a thick leather strap.
"That's what he used" She pointed to her throat to illustrate. Ross held the strap against her neck and nodded. "It fits the mark," he said to the others. "But it is no' possible ye crippled him, lass. He's run like a rabbit, out o' our hands.''
She rubbed her hands over her face. "I don't understand" she began.
"Whisht," said Bruce. "Ye must rest now, lass. We'll search again." He motioned to Niall and Ross. "Ye gang there, at the south. Tom, ye gang wi' Gordon and take the east. I'll take the west. Liam, ye stay here wi' Julia. Stop her talkin'."
The men dispersed as Bruce directed and it seemed to Julia that they searched for more than an hour. When they returned at last, whistling to one another in the woods, she could tell from their faces that they hadn't found anything more. "I don't understand it," she said to Ross. "Why was he pretending to be hurt? If he wanted to kill someone, why didn't he just grab me while I wasn't looking and get it over with?"
Tall Ross gazed back at the woods. "There's no grasping the works of some men's minds," he said. "I've known a few in my time that could only go by the name of evil, they were that cold in the heart." He gave her a wan smile. "But we're here now. And ye must stay close. Darach would make mincemeat of us if aught was to happen to ye. And I wouldna blame him."
Julia spent the next day or two being cosseted by the lairds. She was given the place of honor at meals, sca
rcely allowed in the kitchen, even when she heard the sound of fisticuffs break out from behind its doors. Bruce brought her strong spirits, liberally laced with wild honey to soothe her injured throat. Liam did his inimitable best to talk so steadily that she wouldn't have a chance to use her voice, even if she wanted to.
While she was napping, the lairds held a clan council meeting in the great hall of Darach's house. The idea that Julia had been attacked, nearly killed on their land, was not only troubling, it was an affront to their pride.
"If we canna protect one wee lass wi'in our ain borders," Niall said, "what are we to do if the whole clachan is attacked?"
"Darach wouldna be fit to live wi', should aught happen to our Julia." Tommy nodded his head wisely at the others. "We canna permit murderers to plague anyone in the clan," Gordon said stoutly. "No' wee Julia, no' Darach, no' even one of our chickens."
Liam's brow was furrowed. "But dinna this event seem odd to the lot o' ye?" he asked. "None but Julia saw this fellow, before or after she was hurt. And she swears by all she holds dear that she broke the villain's leg ere she came away. Yet, when ye went searchin' for him, but moments afterward, he was nowhere to be found."
"What are ye gettin' at?" Niall crossed his arms over his chest.
"I'm only sayin' that it's a most peculiar man who could sneak up wi'out any o' us seein' him, make to choke a lass, and then run away wi' a broken leg."
"Are ye sayin' Julia dinna break his leg?" Tommy looked indignant. "If ye dunna believe she can, I'll set ye straight on that. Julia knows tricks we all could use in a fight."
"Nay." Liam glanced down to where his hands were twisting in his lap. Then he faced the men. "I'm sayin' it looks like witchcraft."
There was a general cry of outrage from the others. Bruce thumped his staff for order. "Calm yerselves!" he cried. "Let the man finish."
"I'm no' sayin' Julia's a witch," Liam said. "I'm sayin' that this fellow that appears and disappears sae blithely may be a witch himself. That, or under the protection of a witch."
There was a profound silence. Gordon was the first to speak.
"Dugan," he said slowly, "tell him it's no' sae daft an idea. Especially when ye add in the truth o' what Tommy said. If Julia says she broke the man's leg, break it she did. And still the fellow escaped."
"I fear ye're right," Bruce said, before Dugan could load up and repeat this speech. "And therein lies the rub. How may we protect our Juliaand ourselvesfrom such hale and fearsome forces?"
"We've no guarantees," Niall said. "Magic doesna come out and fight in the open, like an honest soul should. But we canna abide another such attack. We must double our vigilance."
"Aye," said Ross. "We've been lax in our guardin' o' Julia. We thought Darach was bein' too harsh wi' the lass and let her gang freely. And look where it landed her."
"I'll take first watch." Dugan thumped his chest. "If any stranger comes night our Julia, I'll quarrel wi' him."
"That's the way," Bruce said, nodding approvingly. "We'll set up a watch on her. She's no' to be alone for a moment. Understood?"
The men nodded. Liam looked worried. "What'll we tell Darach?"
Silence fell once more. Every man looked at the others, pondering the implications. Not only had they permitted Julia to roam free, but through their carelessness she'd come to harm. The source of that harm might even now be roaming their lands, like a wolf circling its prey.
Bruce gave voice to their options. "We may tell him," he said. "And take the consequences like men. But the chief will be that much more worried about Julia and the Morestons. Or we may keep this back from him, double our guard, and will that nothing happens again."
Niall sat back on his stool. "There's no question. We must tell him."
"But if this was merely a chance encounter?" Ross asked. "What then? We'll have worried Darach over a simple attack from a vagabond in the woods."
"Is that what ye truly believe?" Niall's eyes were narrowed.
"Nay." Ross sighed. "I was only thinkin' o' some way to spare Darach, especially if his visit to the earl goes badly for us."
Bruce nodded. "Ye have the right sentiment, Ross," he said kindly. "But Darach's chief o' the MacStruans. He wouldna wish for any o' the clan to keep such an important matter from him, just to save him the worry. 'Twould be disloyal for any o' us to do as much."
"Besides," Tommy piped up, "Darach's in love wi' Julia. He'll want to know if she's in danger, and no' just because he's chief."
"Whisht, lad," Liam said, nudging the boy. "Ye dunna need to speak o' Darach's personal affairs."
"Well, he is," Tommy persisted. "And I dunna know about the rest of ye, but if she were my love, I'd be that angry wi' any man who knew she was in danger and didna tell me."
"That's well," Gordon said, holding up a hand. "But the matter is no' love here. It's survival. I say let's get to work. We'll know what to say to Darach when he comes."
So it was agreed. Julia found herself attended day and night by at least one, and sometimes two, lairds. She wondered at first if they feared that she was planning to leave. But their behavior was so attentive and obliging, she began to think that they were, indeed, concerned for her well-being after the attack in the woods. And as they doubled the watches on the borders, she knew that they feared another and possibly more serious assault. She decided not to mention it, even though a flock of hovering MacStruans was annoying at times, and surreal at others. It was enough to know they were acting out of duty and respect, for her and for their clan. She was going to miss them so much.
Chapter Fifteen
"Servant, is my love safe from the clutches of that woman?"
"He iss far from her reach," sighed the water.
Edana stepped back, her smile radiant. Willem had accomplished his mission. The spell of invisibility she'd given to him had worked like a charm. He'd taken the wench out and put her to death, as she had instructed. Today, when she looked into the basin, the woman did not appear or speak to her. All she saw was the rippling, wavering face of her Servant. She had made yet another obstacle disappear from her path.
She frowned. Leaning back over the bowl, she spoke again to the Servant of the mirror-basin. "Servant, is what you have told me the truth?"
"Misstress, I may not lie to theeee." "No, no. Of course you can't. It isn't possible for you to lie." Edana's smile returned. "Very well. That little matter is out of the way. Now, if Craigen and the Earl of Atholl have done their part, it is almost time for me to reveal myself to my love."
She disposed of the water and laid the basin down on the grass. She moved about the meadow with her odd, limping grace, selecting herbs and flowers for her store of charms and potions.
"Ahh," she cooed. "A lovely bit of henbane, nestled like little jewels here among the rocks."
She gathered the poisonous greens into the pouch she wore at her waist. You never knew when plain old poison was called for, she thought. It had certainly come in handy when Craigen had come to her asking her to rid him of his inconvenient sire.
They'd made quite a pair, she and Craigen. He'd been more than generous with her. But then he'd hardly dare to be anything else, knowing her as he did.
Yet it was time to move on. She was a woman in love, and while her love was patient and enduring, she couldn't wait forever. Craigen and she had a bargain: He would bring about Darach's financial ruin and she would work her will on his people and his lands. That way they would both have their revenge on the MacStruan. And she would have him for her own.
"My, things are a wee bit twisted about, aren't they?" she said to herself as she hunted for mushrooms. But then, what in life wasn't complicated? Love and revenge, death and lust, power and danger. Was there any other way?
She sat on a fallen log and recalled the wild mix of feelings she'd experienced the first time she'd met Darach MacStruan. It had been in Edinburgh, where her family had sent her in embarrassment for her odd ways and her hideous leg. Banished from London to the wild nor
th, she had managed to thrive at the court of James IV. There was no denying her beauty despite her physical deformity, and she could be charming and even witty when she so desired.
There was an added benefit to landing in Scotland, too. In the back streets and out-of-the-way inns of Edinburgh, she'd met folk who practiced the craft that she had discovered when she was still a child in London. Witchcraft.
She was already a skilled practitioner of the black arts when Darach MacStruan strode into the court, his dark hair as glossy as a raven's wing and his eyes exactly the shade of blue that appears in the center of a flame, the place where fire burns the hottest. She desired him on sight, and her desire kindled quickly into a glorious obsession.
But she made a fatal error. In her youth and inexperience, she tried to attract Darach in the way any other woman might: with charm and allure. She had plenty of both. Yet the darkhaired young chieftain was utterly immune to her. It was astounding. She, who had never known failure, tasted a defeat made doubly bitter by the fact that Darach MacStruan hardly even seemed to see her. On the two occasions they met, he wasn't even able to recall her name! And after excusing himself from her side, he went directly to the milky-pale Caroline Farquharson and began a liaison with the pasty-faced chit. It was hardly to be credited.
As fortune would have it, however, Craigen Moreston was waiting in easy reach. Sick with jealousy over Darach's easy conquest of his beloved Caroline, he'd first taken up with Edana in hopes of making Caroline jealous in return. His ploy went completely unnoticed by the Farquharson heiress and his loss was made even more ignominious by Caroline's refusal to take him back, even after Darach had set her aside and moved on to another lady.
When their own sham romance cooled, Edana and Craigen remained friends, of a sort. Craigen learned of her special gifts and was eager to employ her. He begged for a love philter that would melt Caroline's heart, but Edana convinced him it was useless. Love spells were among the most difficult to execute, and human hearts were so wayward that the charms often went awry. Else why would she not have used one on Darach?
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