Crystal Dreams

by Astrid Cooper

  Though her cheeks paled, Bronnia forced her chin up. “'Tis sorry I am, Mistress Jenna, for hurting you."

  “And so you should be. You try that again and..."

  “You shall do nothing. Henceforth, the child is under my personal protection,” Connal snapped.

  “As all witches are, it seems,” Jenna said tartly.

  “I see your stint in the kitchen has not mellowed your temper. You can have a further three months there to consider your place in my household."

  “You cannot be serious? I am no kitchen maid. I am your..."

  “There is nothing between us, Mistress MacLeod."

  “Connal..."

  “As you so rightly pointed out to me some time ago, a cold bed is not a pleasant state. Your side of the bed has been chill overly long. Think about why."

  “I do not have to! ’Tis the witch! She has shriveled your manhood!” Jenna screamed.

  Connal's face flamed red, as he stepped towards her.

  “Please, Connal,” Liandra interposed herself. “She doesn't know what's she saying. She loves you."

  He glared at her. “This one has hurt and taunted you, yet you intercede on her behalf."

  Jenna stepped forward. “I need none of your sympathy, witch! Mark my words, Connal MacArran, your bed will be cheerless for months to come."

  “Aye, I know it. Do not seek to warm it ever again."

  Jenna gasped. “My Connal...” She clapped a hand to her mouth, only then it seemed that she realized what she had said and done. Connal's face was intractable. Jenna picked up her skirts and fled down the corridor.

  Connal sighed and dragged his fingers through his hair. Liandra saw a pulse beat in his temple and for a moment his pain radiated out to capture her. Then, it was gone, hidden behind his clumsy shielding.

  He glanced over his shoulder, and only then did he notice members of his household gathered to witness the confrontation. Dougall, at the fore, nodded to him.

  “Have you nothing to do?” Connal shouted. Immediately, they disappeared into rooms, down corridors, theirs a silent, hasty retreat.

  Connal laughed grimly to himself. The clan would revel in the intimate details of what had just occurred, gossip amplifying it out of all proportion. And why? Because, for once, his temper had gotten the better of him. Instead of dealing with the women in private, where he could maintain some dignity and secrecy, his personal life had become a public spectacle.

  With Jenna gone, he felt a weight lift from his shoulders. Still, it had been a cruel way to break the news to her. They had shared many pleasurable nights and days bringing comfort to one another. When his humor improved and Jenna was in a receptive mood, he would apologize. A severing of lovers should never be done in such a callous way. Arran's Mercy! That dull throb in his temples had become a full-blown headache.

  Sighing, he glanced at Fianna. “I am afraid your sister will not forgive you for taking the side of another."

  “Jenna and I are not close, that you know. I made my choice, Connal, Are you all right, Liandra? You look sick."

  Connal swung on her immediately. “Aye, you do look pale. Even more so than usual. What ails you?"

  “Nothing.” As she went to collect her bucket and cleaning tools, Connal's hand restrained her.

  “Fianna, see to Bronnia. Liandra, I need to speak to you privately,” Connal said.

  “More punishment?"

  “No, My Lady Witch.” Connal took her arm and escorted her along the corridor.

  “Where are you taking me?"

  “To my chamber."

  “Why?”

  “I have matters to discuss with you. I do not want to be disturbed."

  “What do we have to talk about?"

  “Patience, Liandra."

  “I'm through with being patient!"

  Opening the door for her, Connal ushered her inside his apartment. He motioned her to a seat before the fire. Going to the sideboard he poured two goblets of wine. He brought them to the fireside and handed her one. She sipped the drink gratefully, he noticed, though her hand trembled. From fear, fatigue, or something else? He wished he had the power to read her mind. She kept so much from him, that it was difficult to know what she was thinking and feeling.

  By Arran! He sucked in his breath. No Caledonian ever wanted to be a mind reader. And he was wanting to? He had allowed her to touch his mind once, to save their lives. Maybe the witch had tainted him, more than he knew! He ran a hand across his eyes. That pounding in his skull was now like a hammer hitting an anvil.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  “What would you say to me, Connal?” Liandra prompted, after the silence between them had lengthened into minutes.

  “I am sorry. All the screaming has brought on a headache, I cannot concentrate."

  She cocked her head to one side, reading him. “I can help to get rid of the pain. Will you let me?"

  “Aye, just this once you can practice your witchery on me."

  Laughing gently, Liandra stood up. “How can you, a big, strong man, be afraid of one small counselor?"

  “Do not provoke me, witch. Headache or no, I can best you, if you force the issue."

  “Mm."

  “Why is it I feel so uneasy with your acquiescence?”

  Liandra knelt at his feet.

  “What are you doing?” Connal frowned down at her as she wriggled about.

  “Trying to get comfortable. I can't work on you unless I'm in harmony, body with mind."

  She tested several positions, and to his consternation the one she seemed well pleased with had her kneeling before him, between his legs. Connal swallowed against an accursed dry, tight throat. A trickle of perspiration ran down his spine.

  She cupped his face in her hands, her fingers across his cheeks up to his temples. Carefully, she pressed her fingertips to the temple points, gently massaging.

  “Close your eyes, Connal. Relax, I'm not going to do anything terrible to you."

  He followed her directions and leaned against the back of his chair. “It is like heat flowing from me,” he whispered.

  “I'm drawing out the imbalance."

  At first the softness of her fingers on his face was very welcome. Her skill soon took away the throbbing in his skull, though in its place, was the growing longing to have her hands on other parts of his anatomy. And at that idea, his body tightened, hardened. Pain of another, more familiar, and of a much less welcome kind replaced his headache. His body pulsed with the hot flush coursing through his veins. Faster and faster, hotter and hotter.

  It was with the greatest difficulty, he opened his eyes and cleared his throat. He took her hands from his temples. “My thanks, Liandra. Your healing is very swift and certain."

  “I haven't finished..."

  “Aye, you have. Now back in that seat, so we can talk.” Because if you kneel at my feet and continue to touch me, I will not be able to think clearly, let alone talk. Connal smiled, grimly. “My Castellan speaks highly of you, and that is praise indeed, for Ranald can be reserved. He also tells me things, which I am ashamed to discover, occur in my Castle, behind my back. I must also talk to you about your petition."

  “They said you spoke eloquently on my behalf."

  “Did you think I would not support your application?"

  “It is you who keep me here."

  “Aye, but I can understand how you feel. Believe me, Liandra, I would release you if I could. Therefore, I am responsible for you and your comfort. If I was stranded on some League world, I would be sick to my stomach. Is that why you are ill and pale? Is that it, darling?"

  Liandra looked up at him. Those softly spoken words ending with the endearment, darling? She wasn't any such thing to him, was she? Perhaps his affection was a ruse to subdue her?

  “My Lady Witch? Answer me."

  She flushed and dropped her eyes.

  “Have you spurned our food again?"

  “No. Fianna successfully tempts me with the foods Amilia insists on pe
rsonally preparing for me."

  “Then why do you look as if you be ailing for something?"

  “Because I worry about—"Liandra bit her lip.

  “What do you worry about?"

  “The aliens, and my friends trapped in the dream-state."

  “They may be free by now."

  “They may not."

  “Worrying is only hurting yourself, Liandra. You must learn to accept that you cannot right every wrong. This takes wisdom and courage. We each do what we can. Hard lessons have taught Caledonians to know when we cannot undo a wrong."

  “You sound like a counselor."

  “High praise from you, indeed.” Connal's smile faded. “The aliens have not invaded our world, Liandra, so it gives me hope that all is as it should be."

  She regarded him intently. “You know more than you're telling me, Lord MacArran."

  “Aye. Ask me no questions, for I cannot answer them. Just trust me.” He paused. “Closer to home, I know of some wrongs that need to be righted. Henceforth, you are relieved of your cleaning duties. From what I am told you have carried the burden of cleaning almost single-handed. I am sorry for that. Vanora can be a vicious woman. I thought I had cured her of her disposition with my last punishment."

  “I don't understand her..."

  Connal snorted. “Nor do I. The problem I have, Liandra, is that normally Lady MacArran would oversee the domestic arrangements of this Castle, and ensure that none is set upon, that no person of authority perverts his or her responsibility. I have no wife to do this task, so it falls to me. I cannot be everywhere, or see all. Fianna tried, but she is too gentle to control the household.” He paused. “I need someone who is used to dealing with people in a professional, dispassionate way. In short, a trained counselor."

  Liandra gasped and snapped her head up. “Me? I cannot!"

  “You have the expertise. I want this of you, Liandra. Please.”

  Liandra sighed. That word please—he used it, oh so well, to his advantage. How he purred and spoke softly when he wanted to, with a voice that stroked her senses, made her stomach flip. So many things...

  “It will be a task to keep you busy, though not so much that you cannot find time to relax and enjoy yourself. Besides, I have the feeling the house will run that more efficiently with your skills."

  “And what will your wife say when she comes to Castle MacArran? Surely then I'd become redundant?"

  Connal laughed. “I run the castle as I see fit. If I should take a wife, I can keep her busy with other things than my household. Henceforth, Liandra Tavor, you will be Chatelaine of Castle MacArran."

  “Have I no say in the matter?"

  “Do you truly object?” He paused and regarded her deeply. “Well?"

  “Vanora and the others will not accept my position..."

  Connal's eyes turned steely gray. “You leave them to me. Make no mistake, Liandra, my people shall know that when you speak, it is my voice they hear! Your detractors will be subdued."

  “I'm not certain it'll be that easy."

  “You underestimate me, I think."

  “No, you underestimate them,” Liandra said. “However, I would prefer it if you allow me to build my authority in my own way."

  Connal frowned. “Understand, Liandra, their domination of my household is at an end. You may try it your way, but if you have difficulties, then I will intervene. Now, go to my desk. In the top shelf there is a set of keys on a ring. Bring them to me."

  Liandra did as she was bid. Rummaging in the desk, she was shocked to discover her enviro belt. She brought the keys to Connal and dropped them and her belt on his lap.

  “Fergus found first your cloak and then your belt. I had forgotten about it."

  “What a convenient memory you have! Well, at least I can now have it back and wear..."

  “No, Liandra. The belt stays with me, for the time being. No arguments! It shall be returned to you eventually."

  “What possible use can you have for it? I need it."

  “You do not."

  “Without it, I'm always cold."

  “Then wear proper clothes, as befits a lady. Indeed, now you be the Castle Chatelaine, I insist you dress accordingly. No more of your off-world indecencies."

  “And I told you before, I find Caledonian clothes suffocating."

  “Then you have a choice. Dress appropriately, or suffer the cold. The belt stays with me. And do not seek to find it, as you did the crystals."

  Liandra folded her arms and glared at him. “How long must I lose the use of my belt?"

  Connal shrugged. “For a week I want you to rest. Then you will be presented to the household in your new capacity. Here."

  He drew her forward, and pushing aside the heavy folds of her shawl, he fastened the ring with its heavy jangling sets of keys onto the flimsy belt around Liandra's waist.

  A waist that his two hands could span. Connal's thoughts touched her in a soft caress that made her gasp. He rested his palms against her hips.

  “Connal, is something wrong?"

  He drew his mind back to the present. “The keys mark you as my Chatelaine. Only you and my Castellan have such. Now sit, we must talk further."

  Liandra assumed her seat, and sipped her wine.

  “The Council was divided in what they saw as their duty to you. We argued long and MacLachlan, as always, the most unyielding. If you had reached the Council, Liandra, before it was convened, he could have disposed of you as he saw fit."

  “You would have let him kill me?"

  Connal's lips clamped tightly together. “So far distant, how could I protect you? By the time I reached the Council, you would have been dead. Naturally, I would have sought satisfaction for the wrong done to you, and me. Cold comfort for us both! In the circumstances, the terms given you are fair. You have the freedom of County Arran. If you wish to travel farther afield, then you may, in my company or in the presence of one of my pax-men. Venture forth alone, however, and you will be treated like any invader."

  “I am not an invader...” She caught the faintest whisper from him—a slip from his mind. “Connal. I sense something. You have known alien invasion before? Is that why you fear outside contamination? Is that it?"

  “Somewhat of the truth, Liandra.” Connal glanced down at his goblet and twirled it in his fingers. “Let us say we have known such long ago and leave it at that."

  “Then..."

  “No! I cannot tell you! Maybe one day in the future, but for now, ask me nothing more."

  “Connal, please. I'm trying to understand."

  “I know. ’Tis something of which we do not speak. And do not try to interrogate my people. Your questions will upset them, and I do not like my people upset. Do you understand?"

  “Oh yes.” Liandra sighed.

  “There is one more thing. As I said your cleaning duties are finished, save for one place. I want you to keep my private chambers in order. Your task is supervision only, save for my bedchamber. That I, solely, want you to tend."

  “You're tormenting me!"

  “How so? I do not want the castle alive with gossip. For weeks, no woman has warmed my bed, though Vanora has looked for evidence of it. I am told there has been much speculation. You do not gossip, so I know I can trust you to keep my secrets. Will you do this for me, also? Please."

  Liandra nodded. “If I must."

  “Now be off with you. I have work to attend."

  Standing up, she walked to the door.

  “Remember, My Lady Witch! I want you to rest and eat, and when you change your mind about wearing suitable clothes, then you know where the store-room is to be found."

  Liandra eyed him murderously, and closed the door sharply against his laughter.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  “And for two days the castle was swarming like a hornet's nest,” Dougall said, reclining in one of the arm chairs in Connal's private sitting room.

  “But ’tis settled down now?” Connal asked.

&
nbsp; “Aye, though at first Katrine was besieged with every manner of complaint. I am too sick to do any extra work—that was a favorite. Katrine's remedy for such was a dose of fish-liver oil. After that, none complained of imaginary illness."

  Connal grimaced. As a child, he had suffered liberal doses of that bitter, unctuous tonic. Now just the thought of it made his stomach churn. Hastily, he gulped down his wine, without savoring the vintage. “And the witch? How does she fare?” He had not interfered with Liandra's new duties, though he had sent Dougall to discreetly monitor.

  “Well enough,” Dougall said. “When Vanora heard the news she was to be replaced, her face would have curdled new milk. Ranald, at his most eloquent, took great delight in the telling. ’Tis a pity you missed it! Vanora and Jenna are busy peeling vegetables under Amilia's supervision. Every second day they form part of the cleaning detail. The new roster sees all in the household sharing the domestic duties. Even Liandra lends a hand, though she keeps well out of the way of Vanora and her cronies."

  “Truly? Liandra cannot abide house work."

  “Aye, you have the right of it. She told me she will not ask any to do a task she, herself, is not prepared to undertake. An exceptional woman, our off-worlder."

  Connal grunted. “Liandra already has her fair share of cleaning, she tends my chambers. What is she about?"

  Dougall grinned and shrugged. “She has not enlightened me in this regard. However, I well know that given half the chance, many women would gladly take up the task of seeing to your apartments, more particularly, your bedchamber. A rare opportunity..."

  “Spare me!"

  “'Tis what is said,” Dougall replied. “I only repeat it for your edification."

  “Then do not. I prefer to remain in ignorance."

  Dougall chuckled. “And I heard your chamber was the scene of a few tantrums?”

  “Some grumbled about their change of duties. When they sought my ruling on the matter, I suggested that if they could find the time to complain, perhaps they needed more work to fill their days. They kept silent after that. With this new roster, there seems to be a lighter attitude around the castle. Do I have the right of it?"

  “Aye. At first there was much dissension, but ’tis hard to fight with someone who will not argue back, or lose her temper. Mistress Tavor makes a fine Chatelaine."