No Other Woman (No Other Series)

by Shannon Drake

  He suddenly seemed satisfied and stood, indicating with a sweep of his arm that she should precede him from the office. She did so. When they entered the great hall, she found Alistair in the act of charming Sabrina Conner while Lowell and Gawain were giving Skylar Douglas a description of the Highlands in contrast to the Lowlands, of the frequent historical differences between the two regions regarding policy and politics. "Oft enough," Gawain was saying, "the Lowlanders were first to accept the English ways, and English rule—they were low on the border there, you see. Many lairds in those parts came from England, and their financial holdings are entwined with English interests. 'Twas the Highlanders—mainly—kept fighting for the cause of the Jacobites, protecting the rights of the Catholic strain of the line. Now, of course, we've laws to protect the religious interests of all our people, but it was often the Highlanders who hid the priests when they were in peril during those olden days when religion and politics were often one and the same."

  "Aye, and the Highlanders were the ones who practiced witchcraft as well," Lowell commented with a twinkle in his eyes. "We've still a number of witches about the place."

  "Witches?" Skylar inquired.

  "Uncle Lowell," Shawna protested, entering into the conversation, "you'll give Skylar the wrong idea."

  "They are witches," Lowell muttered.

  Shawna smiled. "He is referring to those ladies who practice Wicca, not to broom-riding crones who would cast deadly spells upon the earth." She gave her uncle Lowell an exasperated frown.

  Smiling at Skylar, Alistair explained further. "Before the advent of Christianity, so many peoples settled here. Gaels, Picts... the Scoti from Ireland who gave our country its name. Druids ruled here, the Norse invaders brought their old gods, and in the days before Christianity, many people practiced Wicca."

  "The earth is honored in the religion," Shawna said, "along with Mother Nature, and herbs are used for healing, stones give strength, and beauty and peace are found in the ground, sky, and water themselves."

  "We burned our last witch just about a century ago," Lowell commented. Her great-uncle was teasing her, Shawna saw. Taunting her, because she liked to defend the right of people to live as they chose. Lowell was a staunch member of the Scottish church, and that was that.

  She imagined he might like the idea of burning witches once again.

  Hawk Douglas slipped his arms around his wife. "Many of the Wiccan practices are similar to our Sioux beliefs," he mused.

  "If Wicca is such a benign religion, what caused the furor over witchcraft?" Sabrina inquired, accepting a glass of wine from Gawain as they began to draw together.

  "Satanists!" Lowell advised, adding a dark roll to his voice.

  "Father," Aidan said patiently, smiling at their visitors as well, "the point here is that Satanists and witches are not one and the same."

  "The Pope," Gawain offered dryly.

  "Gawain, y'canna go blaming the Catholic Church—" Lowell began with irritation, but Alaric nobly interrupted in his father's defense.

  "Uncle, I don't think my father intends to attack the Holy Roman Church," he assured Lowell. Alaric, sound and steady as always, intended to allow no real arguments here before guests.

  Whereas Alistair loved a good rousing discussion,

  Alaric was quite Victorian in his outlook—dignity and protocol above all else.

  Gawain, however, seemed in a peaceable enough mood himself—though he did intend to get his point across.

  "I greatly respect the Roman Catholic Church, brother, but I can't change history! At one time there were two popes—men can be corrupt creatures, even in God's own church, and in all the frenzies of righteousness that have gone on in past centuries, men who were not corrupt were sometimes misled. Then, whether 'holy' in calling or not, there existed men within the Church who were simply cruel, thriving upon the pain and agony of others. In the 1400s, there was a document called the malleus maleficarum, decrying the practice of witchcraft, and the hunt was on. Witchcraft became associated with devil worship—two different things, the gentle practitioners of true Wicca will assure you. In Spain, the Inquisition brought down thousands upon thousands of innocents. Our own James—that would be VI of Scotland and I of England—was terrified of witches, and they were persecuted fearfully."

  "Uncle Gawain!" Shawna applauded. "How very well explained."

  "Aye, for yer great-uncle Gawain is fond of Edwina McCloud, who, it is whispered, heads a coven of witches here in our midst."

  Gawain eyed Lowell sternly. "Right is right," he said sternly, sounding very much like the staunch Scotsman, and still his words brought laughter from them all.

  "Why, Father! I did not know!" Alistair said. He glanced at his brother Alaric. "Did you?"

  "Aye, I had a few ideas."

  Alistair sighed. "Father likes you better!" he said teasingly.

  "Father trusts him more than you not to taunt an old man to death, and that is that!" Gawain said, drawing laughter from them all. Shawna found herself smiling, actually relaxed and happy. Although eccentric and strong individualists, her family could be charming when they chose to be so.

  "Would Wicca have anything to do with the Night of the Moon Maiden?" Sabrina inquired.

  Shawna frowned. "Well, aye and nay. The Night of the Moon Maiden is older than any other Highlands celebration. The truly ancient peoples here celebrated it—that's when there was actually a sacrifice on the main Druid Stone. But, of course, through time, the Night of the Moon Maiden has evolved and now it's simply a special night that celebrates the harvest."

  "And fertility," Hawk reminded them all wryly.

  "Well, aye, of course, that. We must be fertile," Lowell agreed.

  "I do suppose," Sabrina murmured.

  Myer entered the great hall, informing them all that supper was served. They continued to discuss local customs, Highlanders versus Lowlanders, and Americans versus the British while they ate. When the meal was finished, Sabrina reminded Shawna that she had promised to show her some of the property.

  "You can ride with Skylar and me," Hawk told his sister-in-law.

  "You two should ride your empire alone together."

  Hawk frowned. "That's not at all necessary—"

  "I think it would be more romantic for the two of you to go alone—and more fun for me to go with Shawna. If you don't mind, Shawna?"

  "It would be my pleasure," she assured Sabrina.

  "Well, then, why don't we all be about our business?" Gawain suggested. "Perhaps we could meet up again at the tavern, give your lady and her sister a taste of fine Scottish ale and mutton stew, Laird Hawk?"

  "Indeed, that sounds like a fine idea," Hawk agreed.

  "I'm to the mines," Aidan said.

  "Aye, me as well," Alaric agreed.

  "Perhaps the ladies desire an escort—" Alistair began.

  "Brother, we men are to the mines," Alaric advised.

  Alistair grimaced. "Aye, then, brother." He bowed charmingly. "We men are to the mines." He followed his brother and cousin from the hall.

  Shawna and Sabrina agreed to meet at the stables in an hour. Shawna changed into an olive green riding habit with a velvet banded hat, dressing uneasily, as she feared that at any minute, David would make one of his startling appearances. He did not, and she met Sabrina without incident.

  The American girl was pleasant, courteous, and polite, and seemed truly happy when they raced haphazardly across open fields and over the hills and along the shore of the loch. Shawna showed her Castle MacGinnis, explaining that it might even be a bit older than Grayfriar Castle—or Castle Rock, as the Douglas stronghold had come to be called—but that it was smaller, and with fewer windows lacked a great deal of the daylight that made its way into Castle Rock. "An office is far easier to keep within Castle Rock, so we MacGinnises have tended to reside there since..."

  "Since David 'died,' " Sabrina suggested dryly.

  Shawna nodded, gazing at Sabrina. "So you know."

&
nbsp; Sabrina shrugged. "Naturally. My sister and brother-in-law would not bring me here, and not have me be aware of any potential danger."

  Shawna looked at the castle walls. "I can't believe that you could be in any danger here." She smiled somewhat wryly. "You'd make an exquisite virginal sacrifice on the Druid Stone, perhaps, but as we said before, we did cease that practice long ago."

  "Well, I'm not so sure I'd make such a fine sacrifice anyway," Sabrina murmured. "Let's move on, shall we? Perhaps to that tavern of yours? I've acquired quite a thirst."

  They rode again, turning toward the village. The sun was quite bright for an autumn afternoon in the Highlands, casting brilliant light upon the sloping hills, which were richly green with long grasses in some areas, and blanketed in purple wildflowers in others.

  "It's quite beautiful," Sabrina said. "I could imagine living here forever."

  Despite herself, Shawna shivered. Her mind played havoc with her heart. Sabrina Connor was young, charming, beautiful.

  Innocent of complicity in attempted murder.

  She and David didn't even know one another.

  But they would soon enough.

  They arrived at the tavern before Hawk and Skylar. Shawna warmly greeted the woman who came to serve them. It was Edwina McCloud—the gentle, pleasant woman with whom she had just learned her great-uncle was romantically involved.

  "Edwina! How lovely to see you. This is Miss Sabrina Connor, who is the sister of Hawk Douglas's new lady wife. Sabrina, Miss Edwina McCloud."

  " 'Tis a pleasure," Edwina said. "And what might I be getting you? Ale, perhaps..." Her voice trailed slightly as she studied Sabrina. "Cider maybe. We've fine cider."

  "Ale," Sabrina said. Yet, to Shawna's astonishment, as Edwina continued to stare at her, Sabrina seemed to change her mind. "Perhaps I shall try the cider."

  "Cider. Will ye eat nothin', then?" Edwina inquired.

  "Aye, but later." Shawna watched the older woman's face. She had once been a stunning woman, and though time had ingrained numerous lines upon her countenance, she was still beautiful, with silver-gray eyes to match the streaks in her abundant auburn hair. She farmed on lands that she tenanted from the MacGinnises, but she worked a few nights a week as well for her cousin, Evan McCloud, who ran the tavern—on land tenanted from the Douglases. "My uncles, cousins, and Laird Douglas from America will be here shortly with his new bride. We'll have something then."

  "Aye, then," Edwina said, not seeming to react to the news that Gawain would arrive shortly. As she moved behind the tavern bar to get their drinks, Shawna studied her curiously. Was Edwina aware of Gawain's regard? And did it mean anything? Gawain might have defended the practice of Wicca nobly, but he was a still a proud MacGinnis, from a long line of ancient Highland chieftains, and Edwina was a tavern maid.

  Albeit they were both aging a tad.

  "The tavern is quite pleasant," Sabrina said, smiling.

  "A bit rustic compared to what you've become accustomed to in America?" Shawna asked.

  Sabrina shook her head with a wry smile. "I've most recently been with my sister in Dakota Territory—this is high civilization by comparison. Well, I don't mean that exactly, my brother-in-law is quite sophisticated, of course, but it is Indian country, and I can assure you that many of the Indians are not civilized. Well, they're different, I mean. I don't mean to be insulting, they're simply..."

  "Savage?" Shawna suggested.

  "Definitely. At least some of them are."

  "You're—you're quite welcome to stay here, of course," Shawna said, then she broke off.

  Brother Damian was back in the tavern. He sat in the corner across from them. He lifted his tankard of ale to her, his cowl shrouding his thickly furred face.

  "Who is that? Another local character?" Sabrina asked.

  Shawna shook her head. "An irritating visitor," she murmured.

  Sabrina turned around. "That harmless friar?" she asked. She smiled to him.

  Brother Damian nodded gravely in return.

  "M'ladies?" Edwina said.

  Shawna smiled at Edwina, and was startled to see that Edwina was regarding Sabrina intently. It gave her a little chill. Some people believed that Edwina's being a witch meant far more than the simple practice of her Wiccan religion. Edwina did have special talent. She could heal sores and blisters and all manner of sicknesses. She was said to have "the sight," and very often, she had made predictions which had come true, most of them regarding the birth of a calf, the arrival of a storm, or the like. The Reverend Massey himself said that she was "touched by God's hand," and though he frowned upon her lack of interest in the Scottish church, he enjoyed debating with her, and stated frankly that he admired her abilities to heal—though, like others, he seemed uneasy with her ability to predict the future. Luckily, Edwina was blessed with the good sense to keep much of what she knew to herself.

  "The cider is delicious," Sabrina said, "though I might just as well have tried the ale."

  Edwina kept her eyes steadily upon Sabrina. "Cider's good fer the bairn. I've seen far too many goodwives imbibe too freely when with child, and seen children born the more poorly for it."

  "Edwina, this is Miss Sabrina Connor," Shawna said, frowning, then realized that Sabrina had gone as white as a sheet, and was simply staring at Edwina.

  "I don't—I don't know what—" Sabrina began.

  But Edwina merely shook her head, glanced around and lowered her voice. "As you wish, Miss Connor. But your child is in danger, as are you—and you, milady."

  "Edwina—"

  Edwina didn't need prompting. She was anxious to speak quickly, and be done with it.

  "I had a dream about the young Laird David. I wandered into the Douglas crypt and he was there, banging at the lid of his coffin, demanding it be opened. He lay there atop the corpse of another man. You were there, Lady Shawna, and he was beckoning to you, demanding that you help him. He said, 'I live, I am laird of the castle, and I'll not lie here murdered and moldering!' But there were people in the shadows of the crypt, and they wanted Laird David to remain dead—and Lady Shawna, they wanted you dead as well and..." She broke off for a moment, shaking her head. Again, she stared at Sabrina. "I don't quite understand my own dreams all the time, but you, Miss Connor, are in grave danger as well. Somehow, it is all connected. And I am telling you this simply because you must take the greatest care."

  Shawna stared at her, stunned. She looked around to see whether Edwina might have been overheard.

  Brother Damian remained in his back booth, eyes upon them. Shawna turned, and was dismayed to see that Fergus Anderson had taken a seat up at the bar, and was smirking now, indeed having heard every word the woman had said.

  "Did ye hear that, Evan, eh? Y'er cousin Edwina here is telling our fine Lady MacGinnis that David Douglas lives!" He fell into a gale of laughter. "Alas, Edwina, be off with you! Leave the poor lady alone. They say the pair were destined to marry, yet what horror she'd have with a burned and shriveled corpse of a man!"

  "Fergus!" Came a roar from the tavern's door. Fergus cast his hand to his eyes to shield them from the sudden last streaks of golden daylight that flooded in upon them from the opening of the door.

  "Why, 'tis the savage!" Fergus muttered to the man at his side.

  Sabrina Connor was suddenly up, slapping Fergus across the face. "Don't you call my brother-in-law a savage, you sodden dreg!" she snapped.

  Shawna was just as quickly up beside her, coming between Sabrina and Fergus as the man leapt to his feet to do drunken battle. But it didn't matter. Hawk Douglas had been at the door, and he now advanced among them, catching Fergus by his lapels and drawing him close. "I don't take kindly to drunkards discussing my brother—alive or dead. You've had enough. Go home, Fergus."

  Fergus stood dead still, staring at Hawk. "Lairds, ladies—and savages!" he muttered. "They rule over all, and think that they can take your life, your time—aye, even a man's bairns!"

  "Nothing's been taken fro
m you, Fergus," Shawna said angrily. "Everything's been done for you!"

  "How's me wee boy doing—Lady Shawna?" Fergus demanded.

  "Your lad is in fine hands," she assured him.

  "Go on, Fergus, get out," Hawk said, releasing the man.

  Fergus adjusted his collar rebelliously, then left the tavern. Shawna was startled at the way Hawk's eyes touched hers, for he seemed neither distrustful nor angry. "His lad?"

  "The child nearly died in the mines the other day. He was rescued by—" She hesitated. "He miraculously made it out. I've given him work at Castle Rock. I hope you approve."

  "Immensely."

  By then, Skylar Douglas was at her husband's side, Gawain and Aidan had arrived, and a fair amount of confusion began in greetings and explanations.

  Shawna noted that Brother Damian seemed to have slipped out.

  And that Sabrina Connor remained an ashen shade throughout the evening, her color changing only when she happened to glance Shawna's way.

  Then her cheeks turned crimson.

  * * *

  Feeling exceptionally tired and eager to be alone, Shawna managed to leave the tavern ahead of the others.

  Night was just falling when she rode back toward Castle Rock. Beautiful yet eerie streaks of light in shades of gold and crimson seemed to splash down upon the landscape, reflecting off the distant Druid Stones. Enchanted by the sight, Shawna drew her horse to a halt by a shadowed copse of trees and there dismounted, leaning against a tree and staring toward the hill where the Druid Stones rose.

  She was there several long moments before she turned to gaze at the crest of a small hill just at the end of the copse. A man stood there. A kilted Highlander, caught in a silhouette in the strange shadows of the dying day. He seemed very tall, facing the wind, as strong as the rock upon which he stood. Then quite suddenly, he moved, and Shawna realized that he was coming toward her. She recalled in that instant that an attempt had been made on her life, and she turned swiftly in panic, determined to reach her horse and ride hard for Castle Rock and safety.

  "Shawna!" she heard, and she paused, spinning around. The Highlander had come down from his hill. David walked toward her in the golden glow of the setting sun, handsome in the radiance of color in which he had been caught. She had seen him only in darkness until now, she realized. Only in shadow.