The Mirror & The Magic

by Coral Smith Saxe

  "That smells heavenly," she said, leaning over the pot. "Let me help serve?"

  A small but sturdy sparrow of a young woman, all dressed in brown with thick brown hair, smiled shyly at her. "Are ye sure ye want to help? After all, ye're the chief's lady, aren't ye?"

  "I?" Julia blinked. "No. I'm just Julia."

  "I'm Rose. That's my Niall, over there."

  "Ah! Oh, I'm pleased to meet you. Niall is a fine man."

  "That he is, though I'd no' have him hear it all the time, if ye take my meanin'." Rose grinned and patted her belly, which was rounding out prettily from under her gown. "He's so sure I'm carryin' a lad beneath my apron he's already found the bairn his first horse. Won't he be flummoxed if a wee lassie pops forth?"

  "It'll be the making of him," Julia said warmly. "And you and that bairn could use a rest. You sit and I'll dish out this wonderful soup." "If ye're sure"

  "I'm sure." Julia took the big wooden spoon out of Rose's hand and set to work ladling soup into the various wooden bowls stacked by the fire. She glanced at Rose, who was staring at her slacks. Rose blushed and looked away.

  "I know," Julia said with a chuckle. "My trews, as you call them. I must look pretty strange to you, especially when not even your men wear pants."

  "They look . . . they're" Rose stopped, coloring even more.

  "Shocking?" Julia asked, arching her brows wickedly.

  "Well, aye!" Rose dropped her voice. "Julia, ye can see every line of your limbs!"

  "I know. And you know what else?" Julia leaned toward her conspiratorially. "They're comfortable as sin, too!"

  "Julia!" Rose covered her mouth, shock and delight in her eyes. She glanced around. "What does your Darach make o' them?"

  An odd thrill of pleasure went through her at the words your Darach. But she shook her head. "He's not my Darach," she said, handing bowls of stew to another woman, who carried them off to the men gathering about the fire.

  "He's not?"

  "Nay." She smiled at Rose. "It's a long story."

  "Ah."

  She glanced at the woman who sat looking at her with calm interest. "What was Isobel like?" she asked, hating herself for the question but unable to resist asking.

  "Isobel. Ah, there was a one. The sweetest lass ye'd ever want to meet. So mild a body sometimes didna know she was there." She sighed and rubbed her belly comfortingly. "Och, that was a terrible day when Darach brought her home to the village. He locked himself away and we could scarce coax him out to go to her funeral."

  "It must have been awful. To lose his bride-to-be." Hurt and jealousy mingled in her own heart, despite her efforts to override them with sympathy.

  "Aye. Everyone loved Isobel."

  Julia turned to the pot, hoping to hide the confusing mix of emotions she was experiencing. So Darach had not only been engaged to be married, but he'd been engaged to the sweetest woman on the planet. There wasn't a chance in the world that anyone would ever say as much about her, she thought. No wonder Darach always kept her at arm's length. No wonder he always seemed angry whenever they got close.

  "Alasdair looks fit enough," Rose commented.

  Julia looked to where the tall, auburn-haired man stood conferring with Tommy, who had his arm about the waist of a sweet-faced young girl. "Yes, but he always does," she said, smiling. "His lady is a lucky one to have caught him."

  "His lady? Alasdair has a lady?"

  "Well, yes. Darach told me he's bespoken." Rose looked perplexed. ''I wonder when that happened? It's always been Darach naggin' at Alasdair to get himself a lass, but ye know Alasdair and his wanderin' ways. He always says he can't pick just one; it'd be sae borin'."

  "You mean he isn't engaged to anyone?"

  "Not that I know of. Ye'd be the one to know, bein' down to the clachan wi' the lot of them."

  "Hmm." Julia tapped the side of the kettle with the spoon. Here was another secret in the MacStruan clan. Why had Darach told her that Alasdair was engaged when he wasn't and had no intention of becoming so?

  "I see Herself beckoning for ye," Rose said, nodding toward Mairi. "Ye'd best look lively."

  "She's amazing, isn't she?" Julia handed the spoon over to Rose.

  "That's no' the half of it! Get along. She'll be thumpin' that staff and shoutin' at us if ye don't."

  Julia hurried over to Mairi's side. "Julia Addison, I want ye to sit beside me and tell me more about yerself." She eyed her up and down. "But first, I want ye to get out o' those ridiculous clothes. Go wi' Jeannie, here, and she'll find ye a proper gown."

  "But I"

  "Are ye refusin'?" Mairi's voice had an edge of steel.

  "No, but I"

  "Verra weel. Jeannie, take her to my things. I've somethin' that'll fit her in the bottom o' my chest." Mairi waved them off. Julia trailed after the scurrying girl, wondering what Mairi would demand of her next. She decided she didn't want to think about it.

  A short time later she returned to Mairi's side, clad in a gown of soft, olive-green wool with a delicate linen undergown. The hem trailed, but Jeannie insisted that was acceptable; Julia turned up the cuffs of the sleeves. "Do I pass inspection?" she asked Mairi, smiling.

  "Don't be pert, lass. Ye look proper, that's all I ask. Now, then. Sit down, eat and drink, and tell me about this new York of yours."

  Julia obeyed. The food was delicious, the wine cool and sweet, the company formidable but fascinating. Over a second cup of wine, she tried to tell Mairi MacStruan about the Big Apple.

  "Ye say all the buildings are sae tall ye have to crane your head to see up?" Mairi looked at Julia reprovingly. "I've been to Edinburgh, lass, and Aberdeen as well. And I've heard many a traveler's tales of London. There's nae such a thing as buildings tall as mountains, save for a castle here and there. Would ye no' say ye're stretchin' things a mite?"

  Julia shrugged. "I wouldn't lie to you."

  "Ye wouldna?"

  "Nay."

  "Then why do ye pretend no' to care for my Darach?"

  Julia choked on her wine. "What?"

  "Oh, ye heard me, lass. Why do ye avoid talkin' about him? Ye're workin' sae hard no' to glance his way, your neck must be takin' wi' the cramp."

  "But I"

  "Oh, aye. Ye say ye're but a prisoner of his. But I think ye're tellin' me another tall tale."

  Julia shook her head. "I do care for him. In a way. But he doesn't care for me. He thinks I'm his enemy. And when he doesn't think I'm a Moreston, he thinks I'm a witch. And when he doesn't think I'm a witch . . ."

  "Aye?"

  "When he doesn't think I'm a witch, he thinks about Isobel, I imagine, and how I can't measure up to her memory."

  "Did my son say as much to ye?"

  "No, not in so many words. But"

  "Then why do ye believe my son is no' in love wi' ye?"

  Julia could only stare at the older woman, openmouthed. There was a hint of amusement in Mairi's eyes, but Julia could tell she was serious.

  "I'll leave ye to think on it." Mairi thumped her staff loudly. The hubbub in the chamber quieted a bit. "Some music, I think. Ross MacStruan, to your pipes."

  "Aye, Mairi." Ross darted off to find his pack. Tommy's companion, whose name, Julia had learned, was Lara, brought out a beautiful skin drum. Liam brought out a battered stringed instrument that looked to Julia like a cross between a lute and a guitar. Before long Dugan joined in, playing a recorder. Dance tunes and marches, ballads sung in turn, sad airs and stirring rantsthey played them all. Even Niall sang; a suggestive ditty about a maiden gone fishing, and received a playful cuff on the ears from Rose.

  Julia sat in the circle before the fire, gazing about her at the faces that ringed the light. Niall and his Rose, Tommy holding hands with shy Lara, the Bruce beaming on them all, Mairi MacStruan looking even more regal at his side, her tall staff in hand. Big Dog had plopped himself down by the cave entrance with a satisfied woof and was now dozing, one ear cocked to listen for any approaching danger. Soon the children were tuck
ed into bed in the chambers beyond the big cave, and the adults chatted and sang as they finished off the last of the feast.

  Such beautiful, funny, loving people, she thought. What a special bond they enjoyed, part of them through blood kinship, like Tommy and Alasdair and Ross, and some of them, like Niall, through loving allegiance to the name and honor of the MacStruans. Clan meant children, Ross had told her, and it did seem as if they were all children and all parents together, taking care of one another. Membership in the clan connected them, much as they were connected in the circle around the fire. Was there anything like it in her own time? It had never seemed so to her.

  She sighed and smiled. Yes, the mystery of the MacStruan women was solved at last. She looked across the fire and saw Rose smiling her way. She returned the smile, but couldn't help wondering how these women stood it, being hidden away here in the hills, never going below to the beautiful glens or to their own homes. She'd go nonlinear in less than a day, she thought, if she had to spend her life here.

  "More wine?" Darach seated himself cross-legged at her side. It was the first time she'd seen him since they'd arrived.

  She held out her cup. "Yes, please. It's delicious stuff."

  "Honey and apple mead," he said, refilling her cup. "My mother has casks of it laid in every year. This'll be the last of it until autumn, when the apples ripen." He looked around the fire ring, a satisfied smile on his face. "What think ye of the rest o' my folk?''

  "I think they're wonderful," she said sincerely. "You're very lucky."

  "Aye, that I am." He gave her a wry grin. "What did my mother have to say to ye? I saw ye over there wi' yer heads together."

  "Hmm. I don't know if I should tell you." She felt suddenly mischievous. "You might get angry."

  "I wouldna doubt it," he drawled. "The pair of ye have given me more grief in my life than all my men combined."

  She gave him a playful push. "Oh, poor Darach!" she mocked. "How he suffers!"

  He edged closer to her, his voice lowering to that warm, deep rumble that always seemed to melt her bones. "I do suffer, Julia."

  "You do?" She peered at him over the rim of her cup, hardly daring to think what his intimate tone implied.

  "I suffer from want . . . of peace!" He laughed at her surprise, then went on in that teasing, velvety tone. "Ye could help me find it, wee Julia."

  Chapter Nineteen

  Darach reached out one long, strong finger and traced a circle around her kneecap. The soft fabric of the gown slid over her skin, caressing her.

  "Ye could help me find peace," he repeated, his eyes bright with mischief and more.

  A shiver of excitement rode down her spine. "Could I?" she asked, matching his teasing tone. "But why should I?"

  "I'd make it worth your trouble." His finger slid down her calf, half tickling, half caressing.

  "But if it's trouble, why would I want to do it in the first place?" Her voice was growing husky, and she quickly took a sip of the cool wine.

  "Oh, the trouble I'd cause ye would be no trouble at all." His big hand slipped beneath the hem of her skirt and circled her bare ankle like a bracelet.

  "I" She looked up. Several of the couples around the fire had left, and more were making their way to the shadows by the walls. With their arms about one another's waists or holding hands, they made it plain that the time had come for them to celebrate their reunion in a more private way.

  "Darach." Mairi came to stand beside him. He rose at once and Julia stood with him. "I'm goin' to my bed. I expect to see ye in the mornin'. We've much to discuss."

  "Mother, we've both said our piece. My answer is still the same." Darach's tone was respectful but firm. He leaned down and kissed Mairi's cheek. "Sleep well."

  Mairi gave him a cool stare. "I've not said all I'm goin' to say, laddie. And don't say ye've heard me till yer ears have attended my words. I'll see ye in the mornin'."

  "Aye. In the mornin'."

  Julia hid the grin she felt coming at the sight of big, powerful Darach MacStruan bending to the commands of his mother. Mairi kissed her son, then turned to Julia.

  "And ye, lass. Ye come after. I would speak wi' ye, especially."

  "I will, Lady MacStruan."

  "Lady! Hmph! I'm no' a lady. Call me Mairi. It's the proper way."

  "I will. Mairi."

  "Good night, then. Get a bit o' rest, the pair of ye. Ye both look like somethin' that fool dog of Darach's has been worryin' at."

  She moved away, with Jeannie, her handmaiden, scurrying ahead with a candle to light the way. Julia turned to Darach. "She's one heck of a lady," she said.

  "'Lady! Hmph!'" he said, mimicking his parent. "'I'm no' a lady!' She's no' a lady but she's a woman and a half, that one."

  Julia turned back to the fire. Tommy and Lara sat there still, but from the looks they gave one another, she knew they weren't looking for any other companions. The highly charged atmosphere of the cave made her feel like a wallflower at a high school dance.

  Darach cleared his throat. "Come outside wi' me. Ye'll not see stars like these where ye come from, I wager."

  Grateful to get away, she followed him out into the cool night. Big Dog raised his great head and gave a snuffle as they passed, but he went back to his rest at once.

  Darach led her away from the entrance to the cave, up a short path to a narrow ridge above. As they rounded the lone tree that stood there, bent and gnarled from the wind through the hills, Julia looked up and gasped.

  Darach was right. She had never seen anything like this anywhere, at any time in her life. The stars hung so thick and close overhead she was tempted to reach out and touch one of them. The only thing she could think of was diamonds, thousands upon thousands of diamonds, spilled across a huge expanse of deepest black velvet.

  "I'm the richest man in all Scotland," Darach said softly.

  "You are. And no one can take these from you."

  "Aye. And they'll ne'er grow auld. Nor will they wither and die."

  "Not like people."

  He looked at her. "Ye know what it is to lose someone ye love."

  "I do. When my mother died, I thought I'd go on hurting into eternity." She smiled up at him. "But other people can help, even if they can't take her place."

  "Have ye found those people?"

  She leaned her back against the tree, avoiding his eyes. "I don't know. Maybe. But you certainly have."

  "Have I?"

  "Yes. All those people down there in that cave. How wonderful it must be to have all those people around you, all of you working together and caring for one another."

  He stood silent, looking up at the sky.

  "Don't you agree?" she asked.

  "Aye, they're good folk."

  She laughed. "Good? They're the best, the salt of the earth. You're not only rich in stars, Darach, you're rich in family."

  "A family lives together, under one roof."

  "Not always. Sometimes it's not possible. I don't think your house is big enough to hold your whole clan, small though it is."

  He gave a brief laugh. "Nay, true enough."

  They stood silently together for a few moments, gazing at the stars. Then Julia summoned the courage to say what she'd been thinking that evening by the fire. "Darach. You're right. This is no way to live."

  "What do ye mean?"

  "I mean like this. Husbands and wives separated. Children seeing their fathers and uncles and older brothers only once or twice a month. People living in caves, no matter how clean and dry and well stocked."

  "It's not safe for them to come down."

  "Because of the Moreston's threats?"

  "Aye. He's sworn to kill off everything I hold dear."

  "But he hasn't done anything more than fight you in court and kill some of your cows, that I can see. At least not recently. Don't you think he might be bluffing?"

  "Nay."

  She looked at him. He looked like a part of the mountain, so stiff and rigid was his stance.
She knew he must be thinking of Isobel. But she couldn't let the matter drop. She'd seen the longing in the eyes of the MacStruan women, the boredom and loneliness they shared.

  "Darach, the women can help. They're clan, too. Let them come down. Let them help you protect your lands and support their men."

  "Julia, I've made my decision. There'll be no questionin' it." She straightened. "I beg your pardon? I'm not one of your lackeys! I will question anything I damn well please!"

  "And it will avail ye not! The women and children stay here until I can bring about peace."

  "And how long will that be?"

  "Dammit, Julia, stop now! Ye don't want to anger me!"

  "Yes, I do!" she exclaimed. "I want you to wake up and smell the coffee, MacStruan! Peace could be a long, long way off. Do you want those kids in there to grow up in a cave, hardly knowing their own fathers?"

  "I have a duty to protect my people. If I was to let them come down, those bairns might no' grow up at all! Is that what ye want, Julia?"

  "Of course not!" She crossed her arms. "All right then, if it's so treacherous down below, I'm staying up here with the women."

  "Ye will not!"

  "Why not?"

  "Ye're comin' back down wi' me and the men!"

  "Why should I? You've made it clear you don't want me around! You insult me at least half the time. You lock me in my room whenever you feel like it. Why don't you leave me up here so I won't aggravate you anymore?"

  "Dammit, JuliaI don't want ye to go away!"

  Before she could reply, he yanked her to him and enfolded her in his embrace. He smothered her words with a kiss that seemed as much anguished as angry. Even as she responded in kind, she braced herself for his rejection, for him to set her away from him as he had done the other times he'd kissed her.

  But his kiss went on. And when at last he raised his lips from hers, it was only to repeat her name, over and over, as he showered still more kisses over her cheeks, her forehead, her eyes.

  The hunger within her heart rose up and urged her to respond. She had been storing up her feelings inside her for weeks. And she knew that it was too late now to halt their expression. She lifted her arms and twined them about his neck, murmuring "Yes" into his ear. "Yes."