The Last Celtic Witch [Celtic Series Book 1]

by Lyn Armstrong

  After Phillip closed the door, Adela asked, “Why did you not want your man to see me?"

  "I wish not to tarnish your reputation.” He lifted the lid of a timber chest at the end of the bed. “Looks like your spell worked in summoning Lady Torella."

  "You wish not to tarnish your reputation,” Adela hissed, ignoring his change of subject.

  Phillip shrugged into a gray tunic and rubbed his cheek. “I did not want to share you just yet.” He placed his hands on both sides of her face and kissed her lips.

  She grimaced and leaned away. “Have you forgotten who I am? I can sense you are not telling the whole truth."

  He ran his hand distractedly through his hair. “My people are going to have a hard time accepting their enemy as their mistress, even if it does mean peace. I did not want to confuse them with you being in my bed."

  "You mean you did not want them to know their laird is bedding a filthy witch!"

  "Adela!"

  "Forget it."

  She scoped up her soiled clothes and threw them on the bed. “I do not need your charity."

  "You cannot walk outside naked,” Phillip said and picked up the gown. “Get dressed and go to your chamber. I will be there shortly and we can talk about this."

  Adela glanced away, her arms crossed. She was not going to wait like a dog waits for his master.

  "Please, Adela. Do not leave without talking to me."

  She sensed his inner torment. His eyes pleaded for her understanding.

  "Very well.” Adela snatched the gown from his hands. “Go tend to your new bride."

  He gave a curt nod, and then reached into the pocket of her gown and pulled out the love potion. Pivoting on his heel, he left.

  She flopped onto the bed with a deep sigh. What was she doing here? Was she prepared to be another woman in the laird's bed? To be forever hiding from his people? She sat upright, her stomach knotting with emotional pain. She had run and hid from people all her life. Afraid they would see who she was, afraid their fear of witches would kill her like her mother.

  Clenching her teeth, she seethed with fury. She was not going to hide and she was not going to wait.

  Shrugging into her gown and slippers, she slammed open the door and ran down the spiral stairway.

  * * * *

  Phillip entered the Great Hall and met with a wall of tense silence. Several Campbells with hands rested on their sword hilts gathered around the high chair while his own sober clan remained poised and highly strung. He had only to say the word and the Campbells would be cut down before they lifted their swords from the scabbards.

  Phillip stood before his own high chair. A barrier of bodies obstructed his view of Lady Torella. He raised his voice with command, “I am not accustomed to greeting guests through their army."

  A harsh female voice responded, “Move aside, men."

  The Campbells stepped back to allow their mistress to be seen.

  Phillip peered hard at the dark beauty that sat imperially on his chair. Somehow, she seemed familiar to him.

  Her long, angular face held high cheekbones and a slim nose, while thick, black eyebrows arched over jade eyes. Those same eyes stared at him with arrogant coolness.

  Her expensive low-cut gown showed large breasts, and a trim waist. Lady Torella's body was made for the bedchamber, and Phillip guessed by the way her eyes devoured his physical form, she approved of him.

  "I am here to accept your surrender,” she said, her gaze probing further into his.

  The word surrender echoed amongst his angry soldiers. They shifted with indignation. Phillip held his hand up to silence his men.

  "The Roberts Clan does not surrender, but we do make alliances to strengthen our hold."

  "The Campbells need no alliance. We are already strong."

  "I do not wish to argue this point. Instead I ask you to consider what you would achieve by being the Roberts’ allies rather than our enemies."

  "What am I to gain?"

  "You will gain joint power over the Highlands without losing anymore of your soldiers by our swords."

  Lady Torella's eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What do you propose?"

  "To become my lady wife, and end this feud once and for all."

  She laughed and it sounded like a cat's call. That was how he knew her. The night he thought Adela invaded his intimate dreams. The mysterious woman was the very image of Lady Torella. Before he could ponder the implications, she interrupted his thoughts.

  "I know not why I even bothered to come here. You have nothing I want.” Lady Torella rose gracefully from the chair and stepped down from the dais.

  "Before you go, let us leave on good terms.” Phillip's men gasped behind him. “Bring me a chalice of sweet wine for Lady Torella."

  She halted and then smiled like a cat that had licked a pail of milk.

  A serving maid rushed over to Phillip and handed him a golden chalice. With the open bottle of love potion in his pocket, he turned his back on the Campbells and addressed his men. “With good faith, our clan will allow you safe passage through our lands until you reach the end of your journey.” With slight of hand, he poured the potion into the goblet and then turned to Lady Torella.

  "Drink in good health, milady."

  She nodded and took a sip of the sweet wine. Her bejeweled fingers clutch the strange vial attached to a necklace around her neck. She handed the chalice back to him. “Now I wish to leave."

  Phillip curtly nodded and stepped aside. He glanced at his clan standing along the edges of the hall, each one looking at him expectantly.

  With a deep breath, he tipped his head back and drank the rest of the enchanted wine.

  * * * *

  Adela returned to the guest chamber and gathered her bag of potions. She scanned the cozy room one last time before leaving. It was funny that this chamber was the only place she felt a sense of belonging. Even if it was brief, she appreciated the warmth it generated in her. Suddenly a sharp pain sliced through her stomach and she doubled over.

  Something was wrong!

  Rushing out of the chamber, she raced down the stairs to the Great Hall and paused at the last step.

  Phillip's arms possessively wrapped around a woman's slender form, his lips kissed hers with the same passion he recently shared with Adela. The couple was unmindful to the shocked expressions of people around them. Her heart felt like it was being ripped apart. Adela could not look at the loving embrace any longer. She turned her gaze away to see the sullen trainer, Dougal slink off into kitchens. Unwilling to stay, she pushed her way through the soldiers toward the bailey door.

  "Let me through please,” she said to each person that blocked her path. “Pardon me, excuse me.” Why would the not let her just leave? She wanted to scream at them to get out of the way. Tears blinded her vision, and she pushed past another man.

  "Stop that witch!"

  Adela gasped, and her head jerked up.

  "Adela, do not leave!” Phillip called to her, but she did not want to turn to face him. The door was so close. Its light shined brightly through the passage.

  "Adela.” She did not need to turn to know Phillip was behind her.

  He placed his hand on her shoulder and her body reacted against her will. She tightly squeezed her eyes shut and cursed herself again for falling in love with a man she could not have.

  "Please stay."

  Adela looked at the door once more and sighed. She turned and gazed into his eyes. Those damn beautiful eyes that spoke of his undying love for her.

  Regretfully, she nodded.

  "I will only stay for one day."

  Phillip nodded and smiled with appreciation. “Come, I want you to meet her."

  "Nae."

  "Aye, tell me what you think of her. I value your opinion,” he said, and led her further into the hall.

  The huge room became silent, all eyes stared as the laird ushered Adela toward the crowd surrounding his highchair. Adela observed from beneath her ey
elashes, knowing she would have a hard time hiding her jealousy to his betrothed. The Campbells opened a path for them to enter. Adela caught a fleeting glimpse of a dark shadow floating over the lady's head. By the time Adela lifted her chin the shadow had disappeared. Perhaps she just imagined it? Her emotions were raw after all. And the lady was more beautiful than Adela could imagine. The agonizing thought caused another sharp pain in her stomach.

  "Let there be a great feast tonight!” Phillip shouted. “For this eve we celebrate the alliance of two great clans. May we forever have peace upon our lands."

  People clapped without heart and then slowly left the hall, still confused by the sudden change in both Lady Torella and their laird.

  Unconsciously, Phillip pulled Adela closer to his side when he introduced her to Lady Torella. They greeted each other with bitter rivalry in their eyes.

  Regret assailed Phillip when he looked at Adela's forced smile. She did not deserve this betrayal of his heart, even if it was by their doing. He could not avoid the way he felt now. Lady Torella had swiftly become more and more important to him as the moments passed.

  Yet he could not allow Adela leave. It was as if the very air would be taken from his lungs. He knew it was unkind to ask her to stay, but he could not help himself. Something told him to keep her here, by his side, safe and protected from the ignorant world outside his walls.

  Lady Torella lifted her lily-white hand to Phillip, and he left Adela's side to help his betrothed rise from the chair.

  "Let us be wed on the morrow, my love.” Lady Torella looked down her nose at Adela and raised an eyebrow. “On All Hallows Eve."

  Adela flinched and retreat a step. All Hallows Eve? She must find a safe haven to hide from evil that would seek her powers.

  Phillip returned to Adela's side and entwined his hand with hers. His tender energy covered her like a warm blanket on a Scottish winter evening.

  Nae!

  She was not going to hide. Not on All Hallows Eve and not now. She leaned closer to Lady Torella so that only the exotic beauty could hear. “I just want you to know that I am going to fight you for this man."

  The blacks in Lady Torella's eyes widened and then narrowed. With a cruel laugh, she replied, “You are welcome to try, Child."

  Pulling Phillip's hand out of Adela's, Torella's voice purred with sensual provocation. “Show me to our marriage chamber. I desire to see if the bed will be suitable for our lovemaking."

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  Chapter 11

  Every part of her body told Adela to run away. Run away from the heartache of witnessing Phillip with another woman. Run from the castle and hide on All Hallows Eve. Protect her powers.

  Running was what she did best. It was what she was familiar with. But she remained in her chamber, staring out the window, her lips trembling and tears tumbled down her cheeks. What was she doing here? Why was she compelled to stay when this place held nothing but a tortuous vision of death and the misery of a love unrequited?

  A light knock sounded at the door, and Phillip's soft timbered voice called out to her. Her heart leapt at the very thought of him on the other side of the door.

  He was the reason she stayed.

  Against her better judgment, she would walk through the fires of Hades to be by his side. She dried her cheeks with the back of her hand, and opened the door.

  Black shadows etched under his eyes, and his usually smooth face held a day's stubble. He leaned one hand against the doorway, supporting his weight.

  Adela wanted to throw herself into his arms but resisted the temptation, feeling unsure of her position in his heart. Did she have any right to his affections?

  "Come in,” she offered, her voice sympathetic to the wretched look on his face.

  "Nae, I better not.” He straightened his back. “I hear you have not eaten anything."

  "I am not hungry.” Adela's chest became heavy with the dull ache of foreboding. “You did not come here to acquire after my health."

  "Adela, I think you should leave."

  She swallowed the despair in her throat. “You wish to see me gone?"

  "Aye ... nae.” Phillip ran his hand distractedly threw his hair. “I am being selfish in keeping you here."

  "Please come in."

  "Nae. I already feel like I am betraying my betrothed by being here."

  "Phillip..."

  "This eve we have the Hand fasting and then on the morrow our nuptials will be read in the church. Please leave for the both our sakes, Adela. I fear I will not have the heart to go through with this ceremony if I know you stand close by."

  Adela reached to touch his face, but he pulled away. The hurt and longing lay naked in his eyes.

  "If you ever have need of anything ... anything at all,” he said his voice raw. “Send a message, and I will be there for you.” Turning, he left with a stiff back, his heels echoing on the stone floor.

  A moan of despair escaped Adela's lips, and she softly closed the door. The pain of watching Phillip walk out of her life was too much to endure. How foolish she was. Thinking she could not only compete with the love spell, but with the exquisiteness of his betrothed. Lady Torella was breathtaking, and any man would surrender their sword just to get a glimpse of her.

  Adela walked to the pitcher of water on her bedside table and looked at her image within the liquid. “I am ugly compared to her."

  The vision in the water turned into Lady Torella's lovely features.

  "Aye, you are ugly,” Torella's callous voice taunted her. “Did you honestly think he would choose you over me?"

  Adela gasped. Her shock replaced with anger. “He did not choose you! He chose peace for his people!” Adela yelled at the pitcher.

  Eerie laughter filled the chamber, and Lady Torella's features disappeared.

  Adela grasped the pitcher, the cool metal burning her fingers and threw it out the window.

  "What just happened?” she asked aloud and flopped down on the bed, her brows tightening with thought.

  Lady Torella had powers? But how had she missed the signs?

  Adela cursed herself for not realizing sooner. The fleeting shadow that hovered over Lady Torella's head this morn, and the strange things happening to Phillip, it was too much to be mere coincidence.

  "What are you up to, Lady Torella?"

  If Adela went to Phillip with her suspicious questions, he would think she was jealous. She must find proof of Lady Torella's powers. Adela rose to her feet and snatched her leather sack from the side table before rushing out of the chamber.

  In the hallway, she looked both ways to see if she was alone. Although everyone knew her to be a witch, she was used to keeping her powers secretive, a protective practice that would not fade overnight.

  Shoving her hand in the bag, she pulled out a fist full of orange powder and blew the enchanted substance off her hand. Tying the bag to the red velvet rope around her waist, she ordered, “Take me to Lady Torella's chamber."

  In the shape of a snake, the powder slivered along the stone floor.

  Footsteps echoed from around the corridor and Adela stopped. She whispered tersely to the powder, “Drop!"

  The last grain of powder dropped to the ground just before an old, short serving maid hobbled around the corner. Her keen blue eyes brightened when she recognized Adela leaning casually against the wall.

  "Good day, Mistress Adela."

  "Good day."

  The serving maid's forehead creased with concentration. She shifted the weight of the bed sheets under one arm, her small slippers standing on the powder. “Do you smell that?"

  "What?” Adela innocently asked, arching an eyebrow.

  "That scent. It is,” the maid sniffed the air. “It is..."

  "Heather."

  "Aye, heather."

  Adela laughed nervously and glanced down at her powder. “This time of year, the mountain air is filled with the sweet scent."

  The serving maid nodded and took anothe
r step, squishing the powder into the stone floor. She went to leave and paused mid-step. “The villagers and I wanted to thank you for being here."

  Adela tilted her head in bafflement.

  The old woman continued, “'Tis been a long time since we have seen the laird without a frown across his brow. We all feel you do him well, unlike that ... woman he is to marry."

  Adela suppressed the tears that threaten to overspill. Choked with emotion, she could only nod at the woman.

  The maid nodded in return and an awkward silence fell between them. The maid went to leave, but turned and threw her free arm around Adela's neck.

  Adela stiffened and then relaxed in the woman's warm, tight embrace.

  "I am sorry for the way things have worked out,” the maid croaked. With a brisk rub of Adela's shoulder, she left as promptly as she had arrived.

  Adela placed her hand over her mouth and watched the maid scurry away, the powder stuck beneath her slippers. Mystified over the villagers’ acceptance of her, she shook her head in wonder. Did they truly like her? Other than Phillip, she could not remember the last time someone had touched her with acknowledgement.

  A warm glow slid over Adela, a smile stretched across her face. No wonder Phillip would sacrifice everything for these good-natured people. Adela raised her chin a fraction higher. She was going to make certain his sacrifice was not in vain.

  "Powder, reform."

  The orange dust rose from the stone floor.

  "Continue,” she commanded and followed in its wake.

  Adela walked through a series of hallways and stairs. She never realized how big the castle really was until now. Suddenly, the hair on the back of her neck rose.

  She halted.

  Someone was watching her.

  She turned around and found the dim hallway empty, yet the ghostly chill that ran down her spine told her otherwise. She turned to follow the powder. The feeling of malice clung to her senses, its clammy smell fouling the air. Rushing her steps around a corner, she pressed her body against the wall. A wave of apprehension swept through her. What form of menace hunted her? She must gather the courage to look back. To see what she was up against.