The Mirror & The Magic

by Coral Smith Saxe

  Those words had echoed through her thoughts and dreams all night. When she'd climbed the stairs, she waited for a moment in the hall, hoping that Darach would emerge from his chamber and invite her to join him. She'd hoped in vain. Sighing, she'd gone to her own room alone.

  Morning had come and she still hadn't seen him. Ross had said that Darach's horse was already gone from the stable by the time he'd risen, shortly after sunrise. She was alone in the house, with her thoughts and her bread. Thoughts about staying, about leaving, about a circle of old, gray stones.

  A knock came at the outer door. Wiping her hands on a piece of toweling she went to answer it, assuming it was Ross or Tommy wanting her to come see the newest produce in the garden. She opened the door with a smile, then stepped back quickly, startled.

  "Oh, dinna be frighted, lassie," the old woman said cheerily. "Ye've no' met me before, have ye?"

  Julia took another step back. "Uh, no . . . I don't think we've met. . . ."

  "I'm Lizzie Lindsay. I come up frae Kinloch frae time to time to sell my goods to the MacStruans. And who would ye be, ye pretty wee thing?"

  "I'm Julia. What can I do for you, Ms. Lindsay?" "Oh, no, dearie. Call me Lizzie. Everybody does." She patted the large leather pouch she had slung over her shoulder. "Is the chief about? He likes a trinket now and then for his ladies, he does."

  "Does he now?" Jealousy pricked at her. Which ladies were these? she wondered.

  "I kin come again, lass. It's only or miles down to Kinloch." She turned and started to shuffle away.

  "Wait!" Julia beckoned the woman back. "Darach's not here. But at least come in and have something to eat and drink. I had no idea you'd come such a long way."

  "Oh, I couldna take your victuals," Lizzie said.

  "You must. I know about the code of hospitality here in the Highlands. Darach would be outraged if he knew I'd turned someone away from his door."

  "Well, if ye think it well." The woman shuffled over the threshold and peered about with her milky old eyes. "What a fine kitchen. Your husband is a right lucky fella."

  "I'm not married." Julia went to the pantry and fetched fruits, cheeses, bread, and ale. She hurried back to find the old woman seated next to the hearth, petting LC. Oddly, LC, usually the most amiable of creatures, took one sniff of the woman, arched her back, spat, and then swiped at the gnarled hand that touched her.

  "Little Cat!" Julia cried. LC streaked off to parts unknown. "I'm sorry," she said, hurrying over to the woman's side. "I hope she didn't hurt you. She's usually very friendly. She probably smells another animal on you. Do you have a cat?"

  Lizzie shook her head as she sucked at her finger. "Dinna fret yourself, lass. Cats are sae fickle sometimes, is all."

  "Here, let me get you a plate and a cup."

  Julia bustled around and put together an attractive plate for her guest. She came and sat by the hearth while the woman ate and drank.

  "Do you make the things that you sell?" she asked, making conversation.

  "Some, aye. Open my pack and have a peek, lass."

  Julia lifted the heavy pouch and laid it on the hearth. She opened the flap and reached inside. "Why, these are lovely," she said, fingering some embroidered linens.

  "Gae ahead. Look all ye like. Mayhap ye'll find somethin' that ye're dyin' to have."

  Julia lifted out several bundles done up in clean old cloths. She opened them one by one, exclaiming and remarking on their contents. She held up a quaint thimble in the shape of a sitting hen. "I ought to get this for Dugan," she said with a laugh.

  "Aye. Dugan does love his fowl. He's traded eggs and hatchlings for my goods many a time."

  "So you come up here often?" Julia held a silver comb up to the light.

  "Oh, aye. Years and years." Lizzie set her plate aside. "Now that's a piece I got from a fella who'd brought it all the way from London town." She pointed a crooked finger at the design on the comb's side. "Is that no' a cunning image of a rose?"

  "It's lovely."

  "Try it, lass. It'll look sae fair on ye, wi' yer dark tresses."

  "Oh, no. I couldn't. I can't afford it."

  "Whisht. Try it. We'll talk about price after." Lizzie rose from the stool. "Here, let me catch up yer side hairs, like so. . . ."

  "Ouch!" Julia grabbed at her head as the woman pushed hard on the comb. Her eyes swam with tears at the pain.

  "Just a wee bit farther," the woman said.

  "No, don'tit's"

  Julia's stomach rolled and her breath came in short, harsh gasps. She caught a glimpse of the old woman's face as she crumpled to the floor. How strange, she thought dreamily. The woman had two faces. A young one and an old one . . .

  And then she thought no more.

  Edana straightened and wiped her hands on her skirt. "There. That's done." She scooped all her goods back into her pouch and shouldered it easily. "Good-bye, Julia," she said, gazing down at the young woman who lay so still on the floor. "And you needn't worry. There'll be no charge."

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  "So, lad. Are ye plannin' to ignore the lass forever?"

  Darach glared at the Bruce. The old man took liberties no one else would dare. Except, of course, Julia.

  "Nay."

  "Well?"

  "Well, what?"

  "Are ye no' going to go to her?" Bruce smacked him on the arm with his cap. "She's been waitin' all night and a mornin'. Long enough, do ye no' think?"

  "It's no' the right time. I need to know more about her"

  "Ye're no' thinkin' o' havin' the priest up here to question her? After all that's been said and done? Wee Julia's nigh a part o' the clan, lad." Darach pulled a sour face as he groomed his horse. "Your Highness, I dunna think she'll be wantin' to speak to me."

  "Boidsear! Are ye truly sae ignorant o' women? After all the mischief ye got into when ye were fostered"

  "Saints! Leave off!" Darach punched the air with his fist. "The whole lot o' ye think ye can arrange my life for me! Who's chief o' the MacStruans?"

  Bruce pulled himself up stiffly. "Ye're the MacStruan, lad. But ye'd do well to recall I'm king!"

  The older man turned sharply and marched out of the stables, his staff beating a military tattoo as he exited. Darach leaned his forehead against his horse's withers. He'd offended the Bruce. He'd offended Julia. He'd offended Alasdair. Who'd be next? Big Dog?

  God, but he'd missed Julia last night. He'd been tempted to go to her room and wake her up. But he feared she'd send him away and he couldn't have borne that from her. Not now.

  He needed her. The shock of the thought made him jerk upright. He needed her. He knew it. But what the devil did it mean? Was he to give in to her every time she stood up to him? Did it mean abandoning things he'd been taught since he was a bairn and adopting her ways?

  Or did it mean that for the first time in his life he had a partner, someone with whom he could share all his ideas, all his cares? To his astonishment, the idea suited him to the ground.

  He tossed down his grooming rag and bolted out of the stable. Even if he had to go on one knee and beg her forgiveness, he wasn't going to let Julia spend another night away from him.

  He burst into the house. "Julia!"

  He got no answer. He raced for the kitchen. "Julia, love, I"

  He got no further. For a long, horrible moment, he stood in the doorway of the kitchen, staring at Julia's crumpled body lying on the floor. He fell to his knees beside her and gathered her up into his arms. He looked around wildly. There was no one around except the wee gray cat, who was mewing at him and padding in anxious circles around her mistress. But the outside door was open wide.

  He patted Julia's cheeks. No response. She was so white, he thought, his heart contracting in his chest. He began to shout for help.

  He hauled her lifeless body up off the floor. It was then that he saw the glint of silver in her hair. He'd never seen that before.

  Ross and Alasdair came pounding in the back door.


  "Darach! What's" Alasdair bounded forward.

  "It was this." Darach's voice was actually shaking. He held up the delicate silver comb. "Saints, her blood's on the tines!"

  Alasdair felt Julia's wrists and throat. "She's still warm, Darach. And I feel a pulse at her throat. She's alive.''

  "But she's sae pale."

  "Let's get her to a bed."

  Darach seemed to come to his senses. "Aye. Ross, gather the others. Ask them if they've seen anyone comin' or goin' this mornin'."

  "Aye, Darach."

  Ross raced out the back door as Darach pushed through the kitchen door with Julia in his arms. He mounted the stairs, hesitated before her chamber door, then marched past to kick open the door to his own room. He laid her on the bed and began chafing at her wrists. Alasdair pulled out a flask and offered it to Darach. Darach took it and lifted Julia's head so that he could tip the liquid into the corner of her mouth.

  "Come on, Julia. Wake up, love!"

  Tommy raced into the room. "Where is she?" he cried.

  "She's here. But we canna get her to waken to us." Alasdair motioned the boy to stay back.

  "Julia's taught me some o' her medicine," Tommy said, breathless from running. "Let me help!"

  "What's she taught ye?" Darach's eyes never left Julia's still face.

  Tommy ran around to the other side of the bed. He looked at her. "Is it something she's eaten, do ye know?"

  Darach shook his head. He held up the comb. Drops of red glistened on each of the sharp tines.

  Tommy frowned. "What's that?"

  "This is the trinket that drew her blood."

  Tommy took the comb and held it up to the light. "There's more here than a cut to the head," he said. "There's some kind o' powder all along the teeth." He sniffed it. "It smells rank."

  "Poison," Darach said flatly.

  Tommy nodded. "I'm no' sure how to treat this, Darach. Julia told me mostly about poisonings in the stomach." He reached for the flask. "But she's taught me a bit about cuts. We can use strong spirits, she says, to purge the wound of infections. It may help to remove some of the poison in the cuts."

  Darach yanked out the hem of his shirt and tore a strip off the hem. "Here. Use this."

  Tommy soaked the cloth in the liquor and began dabbing at the spot where the comb had been driven into Julia's scalp. "The tines went in deep," he said. "Why would she push a comb sae far in?"

  "She wouldn't," Darach said, his eyes never leaving Julia's still, white face.

  "Then who" Tommy's eyes went wide as he looked at Alasdair. "Sweet Jesu, do ye think it was the witch?"

  "If it wasna the witch herself, then it was one o' her Moreston lackeys," Darach said.

  "How would they hae come into the house?" Tommy asked. "No one here would hae permitted a stranger to walk onto our lands, let alone come into yer house, Darach."

  Alasdair answered. "Ye forget, Julia doesna know any o' the Morestons. And no one knows what the witch herself may look like."

  Darach nodded. "Whoever did this, they looked trustworthy to Julia. She let them come in. She even fed them."

  Tommy swore an oath, then looked up at Darach and flushed. "Sorry," he said. "But Julia's been kind to me."

  "Dunna fret yourself," Darach told him. "It's what we all want to say." He looked down at Julia. "God help me! She's no' breathin'!"

  Tommy went into action at once. Grabbing Julia from Darach's grasp, he pushed her down on the bed.

  "Lad, get your finger out o' her mouth! She'll"

  "Whisht!" Tommy cried. "I know what I'm doin'."

  Darach had never felt so completely helpless in all his life. Julia, his beautiful and odd wee Julia was in peril and there was not a thing he could think of to do for her, save watch and pray as a -year-old lad ministered to her in the strangest ways.

  He felt Alasdair's hand on his shoulder. He looked up and nodded his thanks briefly. Then back to the bed, where Tommy seemed to be kissing Julia with great energy, if a decided lack of skill.

  "What's he doin'?" he whispered to Alasdair.

  "I canna say. But he's been a faithful pupil. And Julia helped us when all the men were sick wi' the stew. If there's aught to be done, Tommy'll do it."

  "Please, God, let it be so."

  Now Tommy was pumping his hands on Julia's chest, causing her body to jerk rhythmically. He kept glancing at her face, as if watching for signs of life. Then he went back to kissing her.

  "He's tryin' to blow the life back into her!" Darach whispered, awestruck.

  "He's done it!" Alasdair cried. "Look! She's breathin'!"

  Tommy sat back, sweat dotting his forehead. Darach scooped Julia up and held her against him. To his utter joy, she moaned and shoved her elbow into his ribs.

  "You're crowding meOh, God, I'm going to be sick!"

  Alasdair raced for a basin and got it to her in the nick of time. Darach looked around and saw Tommy and Alasdair grinning like idiots. Then he realized his face most likely carried the same foolish expression.

  Julia straightened up at last. Tommy pressed a damp cloth into her hand and she wiped her mouth.

  "What happened?" she asked, her voice scarcely more than a croak. "I feel like I was run down by a garbage truck."

  "We think ye were poisoned, lass," Darach said gently.

  She scowled at him. "Poisoned? Oh, hell, have you been trying to cook again?"

  Darach was too overjoyed to take umbrage. "Nay. I was nowhere near the kitchen. Do ye recall anyone comin' in?"

  She shook her head, then clapped her hands to her temples. "Ow, damn, that hurts!" She probed at her scalp. "What the . . ."

  Darach prodded her gently. "Was there anyone else in the kitchen wi' ye?"

  She sat there for a long moment, staring into space. "A young woman," she said slowly. "No, an old one. Yes, a very old woman. Dressed in rags. She came to the kitchen door. She said she came here often to sell trinkets to the clan." She looked at Darach. "She said her name was Lizzie Lindsay."

  All three men started. "What?" she asked. "You do know her, don't you?"

  "In a way, yes," said Alasdair.

  "She used to come here to sell her odds and ends," Darach said. "But lass, auld Lizzie Lind-say's been dead and in her grave near four years now."

  "Uh-huh." She slid down on the bed and Darach helped her stretch out with her head on the pillows. "So we're back to square one. You figure either I'm crazy or I'm lying, right?"

  Her words entered his heart like an arrow. He shook his head. "Nay, love. I think ye have the right of it. Ye were taken in by a witch."

  She closed her eyes. "Oh, please. Not that again."

  Tommy patted her hand. "It's true, Julia. She put a poisoned comb into yer head."

  She looked up and took the silver bauble he held. "This?" she asked wonderingly. She touched her temple again and winced. "Poisoned?"

  "I think so. There's a white powder on the teeth o' the comb and it doesna smell a bit like your hair." He blushed and shot a glance at Darach.

  Darach was too preoccupied to care about Tommy's youthful, and possibly lustful, observations. He caressed Julia's arm. "Julia, lass. How are ye feelin'?"

  "Like hell with anchovies."

  He grinned. "Ye're better then."

  "If this is better, I don't want to know what dead is like." She closed her eyes. "I ache all over. And my mouth is so dry. Who punched me in the chest?"

  "I did."

  She peered at Tommy out of one eye. "I thought you liked me."

  "Ye stopped breathin'," Darach told her. "Tommy here blew the air back into ye."

  Both her eyes opened in wonder. She groped for Tommy's hand. "You did CPR on me?" she asked.

  "Aye, Julia. I did just what ye told me."

  Her face crumpled. "You did CPR on me," she repeated tearfully. "You guys do care."

  "Whisht," Tommy said, embarrassed but still proud. "I only did as I was taught. I can't wait to teach Lara." "I can imagine," Alasdair drawl
ed. He laughed as Tommy colored even redder.

  "Pay him no mind," Darach said. "Ye saved Julia's life, lad. I owe ye."

  "Ditto," Julia said dreamily, her eyes closing once more.

  "Nay, don't go to sleep," Tommy said, shaking her. "Darach, set her up again. Alasdair, fetch some water. I don't dare give her anything stronger."

  The two brothers did as they were told, their eyes meeting in an amused glance over the end of the bed. Tommy's come into his own, Darach thought. And well he wears it.

  There was a scuffling at the door. Ross came bursting through, with the rest of the lairds almost on top of him. "Darach, I tried to keep them out but they wouldna listen to me!"

  Gordon pushed forward. "How's wee Julia?" he demanded, glowering about the room as if one of them might have done the deed.

  "Not wounded, sir, but dead," Julia intoned, raising a limp hand in salute. "That's from Philadelphia Story, for all you film fanatics."

  Gordon grinned and ran a hand over his bald pate. "That's our ain Julia, all right." He turned to the other men, who stood clogging the doorway. "She's alive."

  "Tell him we heard, Dugan," Liam said.

  "We heard, Dugan," the big fellow muttered, staring into the room. Liam scowled but was ignored.

  "All right," Tommy said, herding them all out into the hall again. "Ye've seen her. Now let her rest."

  "Since when are ye chief here, laddie?" Niall bristled.

  "Do as the man says," Darach said, rising to stand by Tommy.

  The men left, mouths gaping. Tommy returned to his patient, swaggering a bit as he went.

  LC trotted into the room and leapt up on the bed. Darach headed toward her, ready to toss her as far as Inverness. Then the wee thing nuzzled up against Julia's side and settled in, purring. Its slanting green eyes studied him with mild curiosity and complete confidence. Julia smiled and scratched behind the cat's ears.

  He groaned. "Hell, what was the point in all those initiations and bein' named chief o' the MacStruans?" he asked of the walls. "The bleez-in' cats have more say in my ain house than I!"

  "Puir auld ogre," Julia murmured.

  He grinned. "Welcome back, wee Julia."