They entered into a pact. Craigen would keep Edana in his household, providing for her every need. In return she would aid him in becoming the richest, most powerful laird in the central Highlands. She had also sought out a young woman whom he could take to wife, a girl so lovely that Craigen kept her locked in the tower, under Edana's watchful eye, until Edana determined that the time was right for the marriage and its consummation. She had seen to it that the girl was already legally named as Craigen's heir, promising that the wench would give him many strong sons, and quickly, too. And if, perchance, something should happen to Craigen, well, Edana would be close at hand to aid the grieving young widow in managing her affairs. Close at hand, with Darach on her arm.
''And now that I've rid myself of that silly little drab of Darach's," Edana purred, "I am ready to complete my plans."
She rose and stretched her arms to the sky. How good it was to be on firm footing again. How good to know that soon she would have her love. And revenge.
"What the devil is a' this?" Darach repeated.
Dugan collapsed heavily out of his headstand. Niall untangled his legs from the Lotus position. Liam toppled out of his Sun-Salute, landing in a heap on the grass. Julia scrambled to her feet, brushing off her slacks. She searched Darach's face. He looked good, healthy and whole. Just angry. What else was new?
"It's Yoga," she told him, smiling. "I was teaching the men how to be more flexible and peaceful. It's good for meditation." "You think my men are common mummers and acrobats?"
"No. Yoga isn't a game. It's a way of keeping fit"
"They'd be more fit if they spent their time at their work, not flappin' about like chickens wi' the ague! Niall, come to the hall. Gordon, I saw twa of our kine on the hillside, headed for the woods. Take Tommy and get them back." Darach swung down off his horse and handed the reins to Alasdair. "Tak' care of him, then come to the house."
Julia saw Alasdair flush. He seemed about to say something but changed his mind after a second glance at Darach's thunderous expression. He led the tired horse away to the stable.
Darach strode across the green, barking orders left and right. Julia hurried to catch up to him.
"How did your meeting go?" she asked. "You came back awfully quick. What did the earl say?"
Darach halted and swung about to face her. "I'll thank ye no' to lead my men astray," he said between clenched teeth. "We canna afford such foolishness."
Julia bit her lip and nodded. His face softened somewhat. "I ken ye mean well, Julia, at least wi' most o' what ye do. And we're that grateful to ye for the food and the cleanin' and all that ye do. But times are hard, lass. We canna sit about tradin' songs and stories and dance steps. We have to fight for our livelihood every day." He shouldered his pack once more. "I want a wash. Then I must speak with Niall and my brother."
She reached out and placed her hand on his arm. "I do understand. I'm sorry if I distracted the men. But they do seem to enjoy it. They need a break sometimes. And things have gone well here while you were away." She searched his face, trying to see what was written in his eyes. "Things didn't go so well with you, did they?" she asked softly.
He shook his head. "They did not."
"I'm so sorry."
He moved away from her, his jaw working. "I won't give it up, though. That land is MacStruan land and I'll be havin' it back or die."
A shudder ran through her at the bleak rage in his eyes. She knew he was as good as his word.
He stopped in his tracks. "What the devil is that?" he demanded.
Julia looked and saw Big Dog trotting across the green toward them, a spitting, wriggling puff of gray fur held in his muzzle. "BD!" she cried, running over to the cheerful hound. "No, no! Put her down!"
BD looked at his master. Julia saw thunder and lightning in Darach's expression. BD swung his huge head back to Julia and then carefully deposited the hissing Little Cat at her feet. She scooped up the outraged creature and faced Darach. "She's been mousing for us," she said, smoothing LC's dog-dampened fur. "She stays in the kitchen most of the time."
"Keep it out o' my sight or I'll feed it to the wolves." Darach strode on to the house.
BD snuffled up to Julia and gave LC a friendly lick. The cat swiped at his nose. BD shied back with a yelp. Satisfied that her dignity and position had been avenged, LC settled in the crook of Julia's arm, purring.
Julia groaned. "Perfect timing, you two," she said to the animals. "But then, with Himself the MacStruan, you could be in your dotage before you caught him at a good time."
She heard a soft cough behind her. She turned to see Bruce looking at her with his head cocked to one side. "What's on your mind, Your Grace?" she asked.
"When I was king, I oft had the same trouble as he." He nodded toward Darach's back. "'Tis hard for a king to laugh and sport. It's a sore heavy crown we wear."
She sighed and took his arm. "So I'm learning, sire. I just wish I knew some way to ease his pain." She felt Bruce stiffen and hurried to amend her words. "I don't mean ease it that way, Your Highness. I only wish I could see him smile a bit more."
Bruce patted her hand and they walked on toward the house. "What the man needs is a fool," he said. "Someone to shew him that the world is no' so dark and greich a place as he believes." He shook his graying head. ''But then, he's young. And his blood's as hot as his sire's. It'll tak' time." They both set to work on the evening meal. Once the main course was under way, Julia excused herself and went to change into a dress. Tommy fell into step behind her and accompanied her to her chamber, but she was used to that by now.
She ran a comb through her tangled curls and was about to fasten them back into her usual clasp when her eye fell on her mirror. She didn't want to see it right now, no matter what image floated on its silvery surface. It had been quiet for days and she wanted to keep it that way. All she wanted to know was how Darach was feeling and what the earl had said.
She tossed her hair back over her shoulders, slipped on her shoes, and went softly downstairs to the great hall. For once there was no escort. She heard Darach's deep, rumbling voice as she stood outside the doorway.
There was a pause. "Ye might as well come in, Julia. There's no need to be peepin' at the keyholes."
Her cheeks went hot at his words, but as he didn't seem angry, only resigned, she went in, wondering again at the sixth sense he seemed to have about even the slightest change in the air. She looked around the table at Niall, Alasdair, Ross, and finally Darach. They looked, to a man, tired, grim, and resolute. Her eyes met Darach's and he held her gaze for a long moment. He motioned for her to sit down.
"You know what needs to be done," he said to the others. "We'll speak again after the meal tonight."
The other men left with tight nods to Julia. As they filed out, she turned to Darach, watching him as he stared at the far wall, his fingers drumming the table.
"How bad was it?" she asked.
There was a long pause. "The Earl of Atholl said I was spoilin' the peace wi' my petty claims. He said there was naught he could do, the deed had been done." He paused again. "He said there was no' enough of us MacStruans to look after so much land, so why should we want such a burden."
"What a jerk," Julia murmured.
He looked at her, startled for an instant, then gave a mirthless grin. "Aye, that about describes the worthlessWell, never mind."
"What will you do next?"
He sighed and slouched in his chair, stretching his long body as best he could. She was so glad he was back. Just looking at him was a feast. She felt again the thrill of pleasure of looking at the relaxed power of him, the leashed strength. But she knew his strength could be unleashed at any moment. She needed to know the cost to him and to his people.
"If the Morestons want our land, we intend to make them pay the price." He toyed with his knife, letting it roll over and over his fingers.
"Meaning?"
"Meaning we tak' their kine. We tax any of their clan that crosses our pat
h. We rout them out and burn whatever houses or crops they plant in our fields. We'll quarrel wi' them, in other words."
"Butisn't that terribly dangerous?"
"Aye. So's starvation. And shame."
"But you're not starving. Couldn't you take him to a higher court?"
"Courts can do naught for us. Morestons hae the money to buy anyone they wish to have it all go their way." He put down his knife and finished off his drink, tipping the cup to drain out the last drops. "Our way is the only way we can win. The only way we can hold our heads up."
"For God's sake, Darach, there are fewer than a dozen of you and hundreds of them! You'll be like lambs to the slaughter. Your pride's not worth that, surely?"
He eyed her sourly. "Takin' the side of yer ain folk, again, Julia?"
She bristled. "My ain folk, as you call them, live in Illinois, as I've told you a hundred times already. I don't know any Morestons. I only know what you've told me. You do remember telling me about them, don't you?"
"Aye. I hope that wasn't a mistake my people will pay for."
She hopped up from her chair and came to stand across from him, her fists on her hips. "You're talking about going out and risking your necks! Pardon me for caring!"
"Ye're not o' the clan. 'Tis no' your concern."
"Oh, right. Well, that may be true to a point, but what happens to me if you all go out and get yourselves killed?"
He leaned farther back and eyed her up and down. Heat rose in her cheeks once more, and she felt his gaze tingle along her skin like a touch. She held herself still and continued to glare at him.
"Ye'd manage," he drawled. "Ye've managed well enough here."
"What?"
"Well, haven't ye? Ye come to us out o' nowhere, ye won't say where your loyalties lie, and yet here ye are, wearin' our cloth and eatin' our food and sleepin' under our roofs. Kissin' my brothair. Aye, ye'd manage well, no matter where ye landed."
"Are you saying what I think you're saying?"
"You tell me."
"You think I tricked you into taking me in? You think I'm using my sex as a tool to get you to help me? Is that what you think?" She grabbed at the laces of her gown. "Who captured whom?" she demanded as she hauled the dress off over her head. ''Who locked me up in that little hole of a room down there under the stairs?" She tossed the dress on the table. Big Dog gave a whine from his spot at Darach's feet.
"Who found you all having a salmonella bake-off and took over all the cooking and cleaning around here?" She ripped off the undergown next and stood before him, stark naked except for her shoes. "As for kissing your brother, he kissed me exactly once, on the cheek. Whereas you, you big, cement-headed troll, have gone far beyond a peck on the cheek. And furthermore, I'd like to see any one of you big lunkheads try to fit into that!" she yelled, flinging the undergown at his head.
She stomped out of the room and up the stairs, taking little pleasure in Darach's amazed and appreciative stare. She heard a groan and the crash of pottery on stone as she hurled herself into her room and slammed the door.
Muttering to herself, she snatched her still-damp underthings off the clothesline she'd rigged up and pulled them on. She'd manage! She'd manage, he'd said. All right, she'd show him who could manage.
"Excuse me for living, MacStruan!" she yelled.
Darach held the chemise against his chest, staring at the spot on the wall where he'd flung his cup. What had the Lord in heaven been thinking to send him such a problem as Julia Addison? Didn't he have enough to worry about without this worrisome, beautiful, baffling, independent bean ceadalachmadwomanmessing about in his life? Didn't he have enough trouble keeping track of his own lairds and their odd ways? And did she have to go about practicing her wild ways on him and his men? Yoga! What the devil was that? Cementheaded, what did that mean? Sam and Ella! Who were they? Why couldn't she be a nice, meek wee maid and go drooping about, immersed in self-pity for the prisoner that she was?
And why in the names of all the saints did she have to strip down to her sweet, bare skin before him, blind him with desire, and storm out, just to prove a point?
He looked around for something else to throw at the wall. He lifted Ross's abandoned cup, but a whine from under the table distracted him momentarity. There was no point in destroying his own property simply because he was vexed.
Vexed? Hell, he wasn't vexed. He'd been poleaxed.
Big Dog came out to stand at his side, his huge head placed carefully in petting range. Darach ruffled the dog's ears. "Did ye see her, fella?" he asked softly. "Paradise walking about on twa legs."
Big Dog snuffled and shoved his head harder against his master's hand. "Oh, aye, I suppose she's no' your sort. But damn me if she isna' mine." And damn me if I'll ever get another glimpse of that sweetness again, let alone be permitted to touch it, he added silently.
But she was so contrary! Was there ever a lass for arguing and fighting like Julia? She stood up to him at every turn, insisted on butting into his affairs, took charge of his own men at the blink of an eye. Who the devil did she think she was?
And still he didn't have the answer to the most important questions of all: Who the devil did he think she was? Was she mad, or was she a Moreston?
And did he care?
This last thought brought him out of his chair, angry at the traitorous turn of his mind. Of course he cared! The safety of his clan depended upon his caring, as well as his ability to think straight and clearly. He recalled the decision he'd made the other morning at the loch. He'd made too many mistakes already. He must let her go, send her away. And he had to do it soon.
He strode to the door, Big Dog dancing along, toenails clicking on the flagstones. Dammit, he didn't want to let her go. But he had to do it.
Out on the green, he took a deep breath of the clear, cold air, its freshness helping him become more alert and focused. He had a raid to lead. It was time to send out a scout. He'd deal with Julia soon enough.
He was soon absorbed in the details of planning the cattle raid. But his men noticed the faraway look on his face from time to time, and the way his gaze would sometimes stray to the walls of his own house.
Julia sat back in the chair and scrubbed a hand over her eyes. She had been poring over Darach's books for more than an hour and her frustration made the task doubly hard. She recalled enough of her high school Latin to permit her to read about half of what was written. From those clues, she could puzzle out maybe an eighth more, but beyond that she was lost. To top it off, there didn't seem to be anything in the books that addressed the subject of travel through time.
She wanted to give up. She'd begun right after breakfast, as soon as Darach had gone out to make the rounds of the cattle with his men. She knew they'd laid their raiding plans, but Darach would tell her nothing. Out of pride, she refused to ask the lairds, either. She wouldn't give Darach the satisfaction of knowing how much she cared about all of them. But she knew they were most likely sneaking about on Moreston land right now, herding their enemy's cattle away to their own hills.
She had made up her mind last night, as she lay in her bed, listening to the lowing of the cattle and the wind among the budding branches. She had to find out exactly what had happened to her. That was where she had to start, in order to get away and get back to her own time.
Her departure would mean one less mouth to feed, she'd told herself when her heart protested leaving the clan, leaving Darach. One less soul for the chief to watch and worry over. All she had to do was figure out how to accomplish it.
She leaned back over the book that was opened wide before her. She couldn't help imagining what a book such as this one would bring from the book dealers in New York. Librarians would be peeing their pants for a peek at such a volume, she thought, with its heavy leather binding, its gilt-touched illuminations. "A good tale, is it?" a voice drawled.
She started and looked up to see Alasdair leaning in the doorway. He was tossing an apple up and down in one long, elegan
t hand.
She shook her head. "No. I'm afraid it isn't. Or if it is, I can't tell."
He stepped into the room. "Can ye no' read?"
"I can. English. But my Latin is rusty."
He came to her side and leaned over the book. "Ah. The Rosa Anglica. A most learned text. Planning some surgery on my brothair, lass?"
She laughed. "No. I don't think anything would cut through that thick hide of his."
Alasdair chuckled. "Ye've a point. But what do ye wish to know from auld friend John of Gaddesden? Englishman though he be."
"I . . ." She shook her head. "I can't tell you. You'll lock me up again and this time you'll throw away the key."
"Why no' let me be the judge o' that?" He pulled a stool up beside her. "I'm no' Darach, ye know."
She looked at him thoughtfully. "It must be a real pain sometimes to be his brother."
"Aye, it has its trials. And its rewards."
"You love him, don't you?"
"I do. The great woolly beastie." He cleared his throat. "But back to the book. Ye say ye canno' read the Latin. I can read it. Where shall I start?"
She bit her lip. "Are you sure? I want to know about spells and charms."
Alasdair pushed up from his seat. "I'm off." "I was afraid you'd say that. Please, Alasdair." She caught at his plaid. "Don't tell Darach about this. You can forget I ever mentioned anything about it. I don't want you involved."
He scowled. "Why do ye want to know such things? They're no' for healin', are they?"
"No."
He went to the door and shut it, then crossed back to stand on the far side of the table from her. "All right. I'll no' be sae quick to judge ye, lass. Tell me what's got ye huntin' for such unairthly knowledge."
Julia told him. As she described her experiences, he kept a studious, stern expression on his face, but she could see from his eyes, so like Darach's in their blue brilliance, that he was intrigued. When she had finished, he stroked his chin and gazed at her with keen interest.
The Mirror & The Magic Page 16