“Aye well, maybe if someone had convinced him not to wed her,” Alainn goaded him, “she’d not be locked in the Tower of London awaiting execution.” The chieftain signaled for the guard to go back to his station outside the door.
“I doubt the farmer will have you killed, Maiden McCreary.”
Killian stood in the middle of the room, a cantankerous look on his face. Alainn ignored him completely.
“Where are the potions you consume?” she asked the O’Brien.
“What potions? What are you referring to?”
“You know very well what potions I speak of. The one Morag prepared for you and the one you procured from the alchemist in Galway.”
When he did not seem inclined to respond, Alainn closed her eyes, envisioned the vials, and walked to the small basket hidden beneath a bedside table.
“You have no right going through my possessions! You could be thrown in the dungeon for forcing yourself in here and attempting to search through my personal belongings. Have you gone mad? Or are you thinking of poisoning me?” he added nastily.
“I would like nothing better than to see you dead,” she spat, “but, no, that is not what I am hoping for this day. I am trying to prevent you from being poisoned.”
“And are you her protector, Killian? Have you come to keep me from stopping her actions?”
“No!” they both shouted.
“We are not here together,” Alainn stated emphatically.
“Aye well. I see what you’re doing, woman,” he said as she inspected the bottles in his basket. “What are you up to, Killian?”
“Just making certain you keep your distance from Alainn. I’ll not see her harmed.”
Alainn glanced at Killian briefly, but then went back to what she was doing. As she pulled a vial from the basket, she shook her hand as though she’d been burned and cursed loudly.
“ ’Tis little wonder you have been acting altogether asinine in recent months. I cannot believe you are not entirely mad after taking this combination of herbal potions. You might have killed yourself. Have you been having any hallucinations?” She continued to shake her burning hand and blew on it as she queried. “I would estimate you have had very little sleep lately either?”
“Not a great deal,” he mumbled, frowning.
“Well, you must stop taking both of these potions immediately,” she said, holding them out for the chieftain to see, “or you shall soon be dead or irrefutably driven to madness. There is no potion available that will allow you to retain the characteristics of youth.” She looked at him disdainfully. “Your alchemist in Galway has misled you. And if it were only you who would suffer, I would tell you to take the entire lot of them, but sure your family would be affected as well.”
She placed the vials in the pocket of her frock when the O’Brien growled like a wounded animal and ran toward her. Killian grabbed the charging man as the guard stepped through the door, weapon drawn. Alainn screamed, retrieved the vials and shoved them in the chieftain’s hands. He scurried to the other side of the chamber, holding tight to the two vials.
“These are my potions, mine, do you hear me!” he hollered wildly in a high-pitched voice. “You have no business touching them! I will consume them whenever I desire, in whatever combination or amounts I desire, young healer. And you cannot prevent it!”
Alainn stepped backward. Killian took her arm.
“Aye, Alainn, if he wants to end his life, by all means allow him to do so. This is not the man I once knew to be my uncle.”
“You wish me dead!” the man snarled. “ ’Tis treasonous to freely admit such thoughts.” The guard still stood with his weapon drawn, looking uneasily at his chieftain.
“If you are dead, you can do no harm to Alainn or anyone else,” Killian said, his jaw tensing as he stood protectively in front of the young woman. “And since you refuse to accept her advice or listen to her wisdom, then you choose madness and the possibility of harming all those around you.”
The chieftain’s eyes appeared glassy. He placed the vials within his tunic and went to stare out the window as if forgetting they were in the chamber.
Killian gently guided Alainn toward the door.
“Maiden McCreary,” the O’Brien said in a calmer voice, still looking out across his lands, “you’ve truly not come to see how you might get out of your intended wedding?”
“What I want is clearly irrelevant, so I will not defy you.” She swept past Killian and out the door.
“You are wise to allow her to be wed, Killian,” the O’Brien continued. “Though you appear to care much for her, in truth, allowing her to marry one of her own kind is a good choice.”
“I don’t care to take advice from you, Uncle. Not since I’ve heard you are near madness. Not since I learned you dishonored the only woman I have ever loved. You will pay for what you attempted to do to Alainn.”
“Forget about that unpleasantness, Killian. It is long since passed. I warn you,” he said, turning to face him, “do not interfere with the nuptials tomorrow. If you truly care for her you will not saddle her with the O’Brien curse. ’Tis a sad thing to see babes torn away from the woman you love.” He turned back to the window. “Spend more time with the MacDonald woman and forget all things connected with the farrier’s daughter.”
Killian turned and hastily left the room.
Chapter Twenty-One
Using her mortar and pestle, Alainn ground herbs and added them to the mixture in the cauldron. She had found yet another sprig of thyme upon her work table this day. Was Morag truly attempting to leave signs of her presence? But why then did she not simply come to her as she had done before? How Alainn longed to speak to the old woman who had been a mother to her most of her life. She would give much to tell Morag of her many woes. Attempts to summon the old healer’s spirit had met with no results. Though she was certain she detected the strong scent of thyme that had accompanied her previous visitations, the spirit would not materialize.
Alainn’s mind returned to her worries. She knew she could not marry the farmer, but was still uncertain how she could prevent the wedding. She had not talked to Lady Siobhan, but felt certain her thoughts would now only be filled with the loss of her mother. Perhaps she could go to the glade. No one would search for her there. But surely, it would only prolong the nuptials and enrage the chieftain if she jilted the man, especially now she knew how deranged the chieftain had become. He had always been a dangerous man, but to toss madness into the mix was an entirely different predicament.
She could feel the physician’s eyes on her as he stood across the room watching her. She knew he was curious as to what potion she was mixing, but he would not ask her. Her respect for the man was growing; he had proved more adept in his capabilities than she would have believed. She turned as the door opened and Riley came in. He embraced her with an open affection he rarely displayed, and she hesitantly returned the embrace.
“I have spoken to my father regarding your wedding, Alainn. He will not be persuaded to cancel the arrangements. I am apologetic to you for I know it is not what you desire.”
His concern moved her and she touched a dark curl that had fallen over his eye.
“I am thankful that you spoke to him of it, Riley. It was kind of you, and more than I would have expected.”
“You know I would see you both happy.”
“Perhaps happiness was never something we should have hoped for,” she said in a forlorn tone.
Alainn could hear the physician’s thoughts intruding on her mind. He was now undoubtedly confused. He had been certain it was the nephew whom the healer was involved with, but she appeared unusually close to both the earl’s sons. Could she be involved with all three? But, who had fathered her child? She did not seem to be the sordid type, but she was unwed and with child and displayed an uncommon affection for the noble class.
Alainn cast a suspicious look toward the man as he stared at Riley.
Riley had moved away from Al
ainn when Pierce MacArthur threw open the door and rushed inside.
“Killian is to duel!”
“Whom is he dueling?” asked Riley with obvious concern.
“Not Liam O’Hara!” Alainn gasped.
“No, ’tis the steward’s son, Henry McGilvary!”
“He is no match for Killian. He’d never choose to duel Henry knowing he is much superior in skill and weaponry,” Alainn added more to herself than the others.
“Aye, he tried to decline, but the man pushed him and challenged him publicly. He finally managed to force Killian to agree to it by telling him what happened in the forest that day, Alainn!”
“He knows what they attempted?”
“Aye, and he’s gravely angered.”
Riley and Pierce quickly left the chamber, Alainn close behind, while the physician stayed behind, shaking his head. But as she hurried down the corridors toward the courtyard where a noisy crowd had gathered, a vision so filled her mind that Alainn was left frozen in place.
Henry and Killian were already involved in swordplay, but it was clearly one-sided. The onlookers watched, deeply intrigued as Killian toyed with the man. Henry swung his sword in a wide arc. Killian stepped deftly aside under the blade, dropped the tip of his sword and smashed the hilt into Henry’s jaw. The young man’s head flew back as he staggered. He shook his head to clear it and threw out his sword in front of him in a weak defense. Killian tapped the sword aside and swiped at his exposed forearm, drawing a deep line of blood. Henry leapt back as Killian laughed. The man was clearly out-skilled, and he well knew it.
Killian advanced, his sword cutting the air in small arcs getting close enough for Henry to feel wind against his cheek as it passed, backing up, further and further, into a dry stone wall, until he was clearly trapped with nowhere to move. Then, Killian’s sword lifted high overhead and cleaved through the air, striking the other man’s blade with a resounding metal clang. The force of the hit wrenched the sword from Henry’s grasp and it was flung from his hand, clattering onto the cobblestones.
“You are fortunate that was not your head,” Killian said shortly, wiping his bloodied blade on the edge of his tunic. He desired to end this man’s life for his part in attacking Alainn. But in his gut, he felt certain the man was only following his brother’s unscrupulous lead as had so often proved to be true. With Henry’s lack of skill and experience, killing him would hardly be more reasonable than killing an unarmed man. But, he was faced with the need to defend Alainn. It was an unenviable dilemma.
“Did you attempt something untoward against the healer, Alainn McCreary?”
The man looked up at Killian, and his voice shook as he replied, “Well...aye ...well... no... not actually... I was there, ’tis true, but I was simply to keep the captain’s son from aiding her. Aye, that was to be my part in it.”
“And if you had managed to keep him from assisting, Alainn. Then what?”
The man was hesitant to answer, but Killian drew nearer and placed the point of his sword against the man’s soft throat.
“Well, my brother was to...to have his way with her.” He was so afraid he could barely spit it out.
“And you would have allowed a young woman to be violated by your deplorable brother? You would have simply watched while he terrorized her?” Killian’s soft voice was more menacing than any shouting would have been.
“Aye, well he is not a man to cross, Milord.” Henry’s eyes filled with dread as he spoke of his younger brother. He glanced around nervously. “And in truth, Milord, I would have little choice, for though my brother would have done so most willingly without inducement. It was by order of the chieftain that we were to see harm brought to the healer in as vicious a manner we could see fit.”
Killian stepped back, stunned at this revelation.
“Killian!” Alainn cried, pushing through the crowd. She looked toward the south wall where she spied the other McGilvray brother, Richard, just as in her vision. He was positioned atop the wall with his arrow pointed toward Killian.
“The south wall, Killian!” she screamed, trying to make herself heard over the din of the crowded courtyard. He turned and saw the arrow as it was released. He threw himself out of the way, as the courtyard erupted in chaos, and jumped toward the stone wall. In so doing, he lost his footing and toppled against the wall.
“Behind you!” cried Riley, and Killian turned to see Henry, his retrieved sword in hand, charging towards him with sword held high above his head, wailing as if charging into battle.
“You foolish bastard,” hissed Killian. He righted himself and stood there as Henry closed the distance. He held his sword low at his side, bent his knees, turned his blade, and slashed it up forcefully at an angle that met with his opponent’s neck, beheading him in one fell swoop.
A second arrow, which would have hit its mark without question, strangely came to a halt, as if it was colliding with an invisible barrier only inches from Killian, and simply dropped to the ground. Alainn looked toward the despicable younger brother and a billowing gale suddenly gathered around him, forcefully hurling him to the ground below.
Killian turned to Alainn and questioned her with his eyes.
“ ’Twas not me.” She pulled back the collar of his tunic as if to determine whether he may need healing and noticed the amulet around his neck was glowing. “ ’Twas the charmed amulet that prevented the arrow from striking you,” she offered in a quivering voice. He took her arm for her steps were unsteady.
The group of onlookers had grown into a huge, rowdy crowd that gossiped and gestured as the guards walked toward the body. Alainn clung to Killian, relief clearly evident in her blue eyes, though he noticed how she continued to tremble. Riley joined them after he had gone to see the condition of the younger McGilvray.
“He’s alive, but injured. The guards have carried him to the physician, but should he live, he’ll be taken to the dungeon as soon as he is able.”
The chieftain was hurrying toward them across the square, his face filled with consternation.
“You are well, Killian? No harm has befallen you?”
“I am unharmed.”
The earl glanced at the gruesome sight upon the ground. The guards had come to remove Henry’s body and the crowd was abuzz with the happenings.
“What prompted the duel?” he demanded.
“He openly challenged me to a duel. ’Tis law a public challenge must be accepted.”
“Aye, you had no choice in accepting the challenge. But, clearly you had an underlying motivation to finish the task so brutally.”
“I was defending Alainn’s honor and seeing to it he paid for the dishonorable deed he attempted with her. And if the brother lives, he too will meet with the same fate, as will anyone who has wronged her!” He glared at his uncle as he spoke, still holding tight to Alainn’s hand. She pulled away angrily.
“I do not require you to defend me, my honor, or my life, Killian O’Brien! You are not my keeper, and you could end up dead yourself. I’m certain your intended will be less than pleased to know you dueled publicly only days before your wedding to defend the honor of a peasant. I do not ask for this nor do I appreciate it!”
“I doubt your farmer will duel in your name!”
The fury in his emerald eyes was unmistakable. She returned the glare with equal displeasure.
“Then, perhaps he is the sensible man!”
“Even without your blessing, I intend to defend the wrongdoings toward you, for until the morrow you are still a maiden without a man to protect you. There is another debt yet to settle.” He glanced at his uncle, his eyes blazing. “Therefore, Uncle, I challenge you to a duel!”
“Don’t be ludicrous, Killian,” his uncle scoffed. “I am a quarter century your senior and, though I may have been a match to you at one time, ’tis no longer the truth and you well know it.”
“Then you choose the details, the weapon, the location, the time, the whole of it!”
“Killi
an, stop this! This is not necessary or reasonable!” Alainn demanded.
He ignored her entirely and, when Riley and Rory, who had just arrived in the courtyard, also attempted to dissuade him, he only charged on with determination.
“I am challenging you publicly, Uncle!” he said in a voice loud enough for the entire crowd to hear.
The older man’s face grew serious, and he spoke once more. “Do not force this, Killian. Do not allow us to come to blows over a peasant girl who by this time tomorrow will be wed to another.”
“Choose the weapon,” he seethed, “or I will state that part of it as well.”
“Have it your way then, nephew!” the older man shouted. “We shall duel, but in fairness to a man of advancing age, you will battle two others of my choice before you do battle with me.” Killian nodded without flinching. “I choose the weapons, and the bouts will be consecutive, on the last day of the challenges, the day before you are to wed!”
“I will meet your terms, Uncle.”
“Killian,” pleaded Alainn, “they are too greatly slanted in his favor.”
There was a hush over the crowd, and Alainn felt her anger and fear begin to soar. She threw a disgusted look at both men and pushed through the onlookers again. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and she tried to calm her power and her trepidation.
When Alainn entered her chamber, the physician was standing before the unconscious McGilvary and attending to his head wound. Alainn hoped she would see his aura waning, indicating he would soon die, but it remained unchanged, as black and murky as it always had been. When the physician crossed the chamber to seek more supplies, the injured man’s eyelids snapped open, and he looked directly at her.
“Young witch! I told you we would meet someday soon!” he whispered in a low, ominous voice that frightened her to the core. “You cannot run from me, nor hide, for always I will locate dark souls willing to assist me. And one day I shall have your powers and take them for my own.”
The Farrier's Daughter Page 16