“How can that be?” Magdalene asked. “Can someone go about life not making any—” she stopped and laughed softly. “I have no right speaking about that as I have not made one with any man, either. But I was a sheltered child. Why does Angus not have a relationship?”
“He’s tight-lipped about it to anyone who is nae me and I cannae betray his confidence. I ken if ye asked him that yerself he’d tell ye,” Lady Isobel said. “It’s nearly evening, and I ken Angus will go mad if ye don’t go see him.”
“That would be best,” Magdalene replied, while finishing off the bread. Standing, she took the second gown Lady Isobel had given her and then went behind the screen to change into it. The gown, deep green in color with long sleeves, fit wonderfully but had laces in the back that would require the lady’s help.
While fixing the neck she stifled a gasp when hands grasped the laces and tightened them. Lady Isobel murmured, “Fits perfectly.”
Looking down at the bust that was so tight against her, she went slightly red—the tops of her breasts were showing. Never had she worn a gown like this one. By English standards, this cut was scandalous but her gown was given with hospitality and she was not going to be ungrateful. She was then directed to sit and her hair was combed out and tied at the nape of her neck with a simple ribbon.
“Are ye ready?” she was asked.
“Yes,” Magdalene replied, while trying to stop her heart from beating out of her chest.
She was led down long corridors that she barely remembered going through when she had arrived. At every corner, she was visibly reminded that this was the castle of a warlord, as suits of armor rested in nooks and shields were hanging on random walls.
A window she passed by showed her various sections of the grounds. She spotted a low brick building with smoke rising from many chimneys and knew it was a smokehouse, and another one where women were arms deep in wooden tubs of a washhouse. She spotted the training grounds from before but now squires were training in plain sight.
They ventured on and many servant men and women passed by and greeted the lady. What did astound Magdalene was that Lady Isobel knew the names of everyone who passed by. She even stopped to ask about the state of an ailing mother or a son who was off to school. Lady Isobel introduced her, too, but anxiety had closed her throat off and she could only smile and nod.
A corridor down, Lady Isobel stopped her and told her, “Breathe, lass. No one is here to hurt ye or look at ye strange. Yer nae the only Englishwoman to pass through our home. When me husband decided to make alliances with some English territories, we hosted Englishwomen, too.”
“Oh,” Magdalene breathed. “I’m sorry, I didn't know that.”
“We have to have connections to survive,” Lady Isobel added. “I’m sure you know that your faither had done the same.”
“He did,” Magdalene confirmed as they began walking again and entered the great hall.
The shield crowned with the crossed swords drew her attention and she went closer. The shield was large and round with an iron center and studs at each quarter. She could see large scratches, nicks, and dents in the iron core. The swords looked battle-worn but still dangerous. Lifting a hand to trace over the edge she felt the smooth slide of the blade.
“Careful, lass,” Angus said from behind her. She stilled as he came closer and tugged her hand away. “Ye’ll cut yerself.”
So close, his presence stole her breath away and she twisted to see that Lady Isobel had conveniently disappeared. Her hand was still closed in Angus’ and it did not feel as if he was going to let it go. Worse even, she did not want him to. “Yer awake.”
“Yes,” she replied, a little more breathily than expected. His thumb tracing circles over her knuckles was not helping her lungs recover until he dropped her hand.
“I’m glad,” he said, eyes running over her face as if he had not seen her in years and was trying to fix her face in his memory. “Are ye hungry?”
Was she? Perhaps, but his keen attention would make it almost impossible to eat. “No… I’m not. Perhaps later today, though.”
“Follow me, then,” Angus said as he took her hand and led her down another corridor. This time, more than before, she could feel eyes on her and felt heat crawling up her neck to her ears. Was this what it felt like to be with the Laird? To be under constant attention?
Her face was beet red by the time they came to the outside and passed through the inner courtyard. Magdalene jumped when a chicken darted near her, almost under her skirt if she had not jumped away. Angus’ laugh made her more self-conscious. Following him quickly, she came to a long building with large doorways and from them, she heard the telltale whinnying of horses.
Before she entered, she held Angus’ arm, wordlessly asking him to stop and she turned to look around. The Williamson castle looked larger than she had seen at the first. There was a perimeter wall with guard towers at the far corners. Battlements topped each tower and each tower was connected by long walkways where armed warriors paced.
A soft breeze ruffled her hair, flinging loose tendrils into her eyes. With her free hand, she brushed the strands away and kept staring. Angus came nearer. “Looking at anythin’ in particular, lass?”
“No…” Magdalene said. “It’s just sinking in that you have fought battles here.”
“Dinnae yer faither have the same constructions at yer home?” Angus asked, looking at the walls with her.
“Not at home, no,” Magdalene replied. “Well, we did have walls and guards but there was nothing as fortified at this. My father’s seat of rule was a building in the main town of his barony. How old is your home?”
“A hundred and fifty years,” Angus said proudly, looking over the land he knew as home. “Me family used to live farther south but we moved farther inland when King Cináed took reign and we’ve been here ever since.”
Grasping Angus’ arm, she turned to him and cleared her throat, “What were you going to show me?”
His arm slipped from hers to rest on her back as he guided her into the stables. A long line of individual stalls housed horses of varied colors but Magdalene was drawn to the one whose head stood hands over the rest—Angus’ horse Titan. She edged closer and tried to ignore the smirk she saw on Angus’ face from the corner of her eye.
She reached up to touch him, daring herself to touch his head but drew her hand back. His dark eyes were intimidating and frankly petrifying but she tried again. It was only when Angus took her hand and rested it on his jaw that she did touch him.
“He’s nae as terrifying as ye might ken,” Angus murmured in her ear.
“I still think he was bred to service the offspring of Goliath,” she said, only to hear Angus’ roaring laugh. “What?”
“Me Faither’s horse was named Goliath,” he grinned as he tugged her hand away. “Titan is his foal, so yer on to something, lass.”
Moving her down the line to another stall, he opened it to reveal a dark brown mare. “This is Glynn, she’s yers to ride as long as ye stay here.”
“Thank you,” Magdalene said, pleased with the gentle brown eyes of the mare while she trailed a hand along the length of her mane. “But you didn’t have to do this for me. I won’t be here for long.”
“As I said,” Angus added. “As long as ye want to stay here.”
Magdalene's hand went up to brush at her still tender cheek and winced a bit. Was her face black and blue? Mayhap this was why people had been staring at, her instead of her presence next to Angus. She suddenly wanted to see her reflection and assess the damage.
“And I remember ye saying ye’d like to defend yerself,” Angus added. “If ye want, I can get one of me men to teach ye but I ken ye’d appreciate Ailsa more. I did tell ye she was a scrappy little fighter.”
“You did say that,” Magdalene commented. “And I’d appreciate it, but how far can I get in a few days?”
“Ye underestimate yerself, lass,” Angus said. “I am sure ye can learn quickly. It s
eems like yer a fast learner and me sister is—”
“Angus!” Malcolm’s voice shouted from half the courtyard away and they both turned to see the man sprinting to them. Magdalene felt anxiety began to clench her stomach tightly.
The Laird stepped in front of her, partially shielding her from his brother. “What is it, Malcolm?”
Malcolm braced one of his hands on his knee and lifted the other to greet her, “G’ day, M-miss Magdalene. Angus, the council is here and are waiting for ye. The problem with the witch is making them antsy.”
Turning to look at Angus, who now had a tight set to his jaw, she asked, “What witch?”
He looked at her and his eyes softened a little. “Nothin’ that concerns ye. Come, I’ll take ye back to the house and get ye dinner. Thank ye, Malcolm. Lass?”
Sensing something vital was happening, Magdalene lifted her skirts and hurried back to the citadel with Angus striding powerfully and Malcolm jogging behind them.
At the entrance to the stairs, Angus stopped to rest his hands on her shoulders. “Dinnae ye worry about me, lass. I’ll be with ye as soon as I can. Malcolm and Ailsa will be with ye in turns until I get back.”
“Me?” Malcolm said indignantly only to be silenced by Angus’ glare. “Fine, me.”
“I’ll see ye later,” Angus said, with a kiss to the side of her head, before spinning and striding off.
Looking up at the hastening off Laird, her concern for him was deepening and running through her mind was the word, witch.
What in the blessed name of St. George is going on?
Chapter 14
The meeting room was already filled up with the five elders, three women, and two men, sitting around the long wooden table. All were wearing their tartan robes with their family pin on display. The Williamson Clan had three of its own blood members on the council but the other two were of families that had been with them for generations and had proved themselves worthy.
Angus greeted them and went directly to the point, “Honored elders, I have called ye all here to tell ye what I have found on this fire witch that is making our lives very difficult.”
His words were superfluous as they all knew the terror this witch was making of their lives. A male elder, Sinead, spoke, “And what have ye found?
Getting to the head of the table, Angus leaned his palms on it and met the eyes of the heads of the major families in his clan. “She is from Edina and moved here after her husband died. The priest who interred her husband said she wasnae a loving wife. She spat on the man as he went into the ground.”
“Ach,” one of the men, Barris groaned while two women, Eilwen and Fionna, crossed themselves.
Grimacing himself, Angus went on. “She came to claim a home her late husband left her and has been there ever since. Her name is Perse Fenton.”
“And ye ken for sure, she is this witch,” Eilwen asked, her hands grasping the tiny wooden cross hanging around her neck.
“I am,” he assured her and the other members by default. “She is a woman scorned.”
“But what can she possibly hope to gain by attacking men and women who have done nothin’ to her?” the last female, Idris said. She was the quietest one of the five and the most pious.
“Does hate have a reason?” Sinead’s voice was gruff, almost a snarl. “She is the spawn of the devil and the devil hates all, even God himself. It’s nae that much of a stretch for her to hate all who are around her.”
Settling heavily into his seat, Angus looked around warily. “Aye.”
“What is yer next move, Me Laird?”
“I was kenning about going to see a Druid in Càrn Eige,” Angus said. “I ken, the Devil cannae cast out the Devil but I need to ken what to expect and find a plan to weaken her. I swear to ye, I am only seeking a way out, nae relapsing into the ways of old.”
His conviction must have impressed them but he still got a warning look from Eilwen. “See that ye doesnae.”
The second, Barris, who had not spoken at all leaned in, with a secretive smile on his face, “So what this I hear about ye havin’ a Sassenach in yer home?”
“Ye heard?” Angus asked.
“It’s all over the town, Me Laird,” Barris said leaning back, his grey eyes twinkling. “Dae ye ken that with more than fifty people seeing ye two riding in with the lass in men’s clothes wouldnae get a notice? Who is she?”
“Her name is Miss Magdalene Crompton,” Angus said rather unhappily. He had hoped to not mention her at all. “I happened to come across her when two scoundrels were about to assault her and gave them an option, leave with all limbs intact or some missin’. They took the first.”
Barris’ laugh was a rumble. “Ye get more and more like yer Faither every day, Me Laird. Did ye pull out the ol’ broadsword as an incentive?”
“What other way would they have run?” Angus’ eyebrow was arched. “Anyway, the lass got some bruises and she’s here until they heal up. Mother is in charge of that.”
“And ye are sure ye can get rid of this witch by gettin’ aid from the Druid?” Eilwen asked.
“On me life,” Angus added. He took a look around to meet the staid eyes of the men and women there. No one asked another question so he said, “I ken that’s all for now. Would ye like to rest in yer rooms before leaving? Or have a meal?”
His question was not really a question but a thinly veiled order. His faither had never sent the elders off without rest and a hearty meal and he was not going to break tradition. Two of women opted to rest before eating but the men and Indris opted to go to the great hall. Barris and Sinead were speaking to each other as they left.
A snippet floated over to Angus and he groaned internally. Sinead had, not so quietly, said that if this Sassenach was the one Angus was to get married to, his ancestors would roll in their graves. Sinead was the deepest traditionalist of them all so, of course, he would have a problem with Angus, a descendant of pure Scottish blood, marrying an Englishwoman.
“Ignore him,” Idris, the last one to leave the room, said to Angus. “He’s too stuck in his ways that he’d rather ye marry a Scottish tavern-maid than one of noble English blood.”
“I ken,” Angus sighed, as he closed the door behind him.
He accompanied Idris to the great hall that was nearly empty and pulled her seat out for her. He called out for meals to be served to the elders before bidding them goodbye and going to his meeting room. Half-way there he stopped, spun on his heel, and went off to seek out Magdalene. She was not in her room nor was she in a sitting room where his mother was.
“I ken she and Ailsa went to the herb room in the infirmary,” Lady Isobel said, while she was sewing up a robe. “She wanted to ken about the herbs I used in the salve for her face.”
“Thank ye, Mother,” Angus said, as he left towards the infirmary. His aversion for the infirmary was coiling into his stomach but he passed through the main bed section and went directly to the sun-room at the end. He heard Ailsa’s voice from inside and navigated the tall rows of plants to the back of the room where Magdalene was, bent over a pot of mandrakes.
“Ye can ken this plant by its large leaves. They are so wide and their roots look like a human child. We used this plant for treating upset stomach, colic, and breathing ailments. We also use it to trigger vomiting in case someone has eaten something poisonous. And we give it to people to numb the pain when we have to cut them or pry something impaled in them out.”
Magdalene blanched. “Impaled?”
“Many farmers, hunters, and soldiers have accidents, lass,” Angus said. “Last month Mother had to take out a sharpened stake from a hunter’s chest that just missed his heart. Mother saved his life by using that plant.”
Green eyes flitted over to him and the soft blush that he found so appealing was on her cheeks. “Your mother is wonderful.”
“She is,” Angus said, looking over to Ailsa and trying to wordlessly ask her to give them a moment of privacy. His sister looked amused but did
not move. Exasperated, he asked her directly. “Ailsa, can we have a moment?”
His sister snickered. “I could see that from the moment ye walked into here. Yer nae that subtle, brother o’ mine.”
When she left, Angus rolled his eyes and came closer to Magdalene. He cupped her cheek and pressed his thumb just under her jaw, careful to not irritate a bruise. “How are ye feelin’?”
“I’m much better,” she said. “The tea your mother made is so wonderful. I don’t feel tired at all and the cream she gave me for my bruises has started working.”
“That’s good to hear,” Angus said, using his thumb to make one last circle on her skin before forcing himself to let go.
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