To Bewitch a Highlander

by Lily Baldwin

“So you will stay with me then?” he asked. He had to be certain. He needed to hear the words.

  “Are you daft?” she laughed. “Aye, Ronan, Laird of the MacKinnon, I vow to love you and to live out the rest of my days here with you.”

  He threw his head back and hollered as he placed his hands at her waist and lifted her high in the air. Pieces of dried peat broke off as her head grazed the ceiling. He spun her around and around in circles. He could not stop laughing, and she seemed equally unable to contain her mirth. The sound of their laughter filled the confines of the small hut. He imagined the walls threatened to collapse under the collective pressure of their contentment.

  Then once again he pulled her close, “You will never regret loving me”, he whispered. He stared into her stormy gray eyes.

  “But, wait. Shoney…”

  “You mean Bridget, don’t you”, she smiled.

  “Never when we are alone”, he grinned. “But, I must know. Why did Aidan say you grieved when he told you I was alive? Is the regret and sacrifice of loving me too great to bear?”

  She pressed a kiss to his lips. “I have no regrets, and I make no sacrifice. For what I realized, Ronan, is that I honor my mother by loving you.”

  “I do not understand”, he said.

  “It was not my mother’s convictions or her beliefs that truly gave her life meaning. It was I”, she smiled. “I gave my mother joy, and I know now that what she would want most is for me to find joy in my own life. You see Ronan, I understand this now because…”, her voice trailed off as she blushed and averted her eyes.

  He cupped her cheeks forcing her gaze to meet his own.

  “Because, why?” he said.

  “Because I know how it feels to love as a mother does.”

  Her tears fell as she took his hand and pressed it to her stomach, and his eyes grew wide as he felt a slight roundness that had not been there before.

  He dropped to his knees and bending his head, he placed a kiss on her belly. “How exquisite you are to me”, he whispered. “From out of great loss springs forth new life. We shall have many children.” She raised an eyebrow at him.

  He chuckled, “Yes, my dear, my hunger for you is such that you shall never go long without one of my sons or daughters growing inside you.”

  She playfully swatted him before wrapping her arms around his neck. He stood, lifting her again in the air.

  “You are everything to me”, he whispered.

  “And I am nothing without you”, she replied.

  Then he lowered his mouth to hers, slowly taking full possession of her lips. He held her tightly, vowing to spend the rest of his days ensuring hers were always filled with joy.

  Epilogue

  Shoney’s eyelids snapped open. Something, or someone, had spoiled her slumber. She reached out and felt for Ronan who was fast asleep beside her. He slept peacefully despite the tempest that raged outside. In the darkness, she could not see his face, but she did not need light to conjure forth the image of her beloved. The small lines now creasing his eyes and mouth were softer when he slept. Shoney stroked his graying hair and placed a kiss on his lips. Satisfied that Ronan slept undisturbed, she lied back in the darkness and waited for the violators of her rest to reveal themselves.

  A deafening clap of thunder rebounded off the stones of Dun Ara Castle. Soundlessly, she tugged at their blanket, pulling the woolen fibers over Ronan’s shoulder and beneath her chin to banish the chill from their bed. This simple movement was her only acknowledgement of the weather. Shoney knew it was not the storm that pulled her from her dreams. Having lived forty-nine winters, she was used to the frequent tempests that raged unchecked over the moors, and with the same unyielding strength of the land, she paid them no heed. She closed her eyes and waited, knowing that all would be revealed soon enough.

  A smile gradually lifted the corners of her lips. Something from deep within her body sought to be acknowledged. There, she felt it again, only this time she knew what it was.

  The gentle thumping of another’s heart was beating in time to her own.

  United, their hearts beat gently and evenly. Shoney felt as if her whole body was wrapped in snug layers of heat like a cocoon. She closed her eyes, losing herself to the strange but wonderful sensation. She was being lulled to sleep when a white light flashed before her eyes, warning Shoney that a vision was forthcoming.

  She saw a cloaked figure, holding fast to a small bundle, shielding it from the storm, which pounded the moors with stinging rain and blazed the night sky with white lightning. Still the figure pushed onward toward what flashes of light revealed as the Daione Shi Knoll in the distance. The rain ceased and blackness fell but only for a moment. The clouds parted and a full moon revealed the figure standing amid the infamous moss covered stones at the foot of the knoll. But the bundle was gone, replaced by a fistful of pink flowers.

  The serenity Shoney felt was ripped away, only to be replaced by panic as her heart’s pulse rapidly accelerated. The aggressive rhythm produced a tremor that pulsed through her body and pulled her from her vision. At once, Shoney cast aside her cover, and in one fluid movement, she rose from the bed, leaving its warmth and Ronan behind. She yanked the brown folds of her tunic over her long golden and silver hair and settled it over her linen shift. Not bothering to belt her waist, she put on her leather slippers and grabbed her thickest cloak.

  Then she turned her attention to the table where she kept her salves and potions. With hurried but precise motions, she shuffled through a series of small glass bottles and leather pouches, but she did not know what she needed. At last, intuition guided her to a small blue vial. Its contents of Water Mint and May Blossom was used to revive the body. Tucking it deep within her pockets, she glanced back at Ronan before hurrying downstairs to the hall. She moved silently passed the dogs asleep by the fire and pushed open the door. Then with neither hesitation nor fear, she gave Skatha, the goddess of shadows, a warm smile and stepped out into the night and into the storm.

  She could hear the whipping winds catapulting waves over the isle’s steep, rocky coastline, but she was not heading toward the ocean. Instead, she trudged inland through the storm to the open moors. The heavy rains created small rivers of mud and washed out bracken. Overhead a bolt of lightning spread its luminous fingers across the sky, revealing the bleak wintry hills that stretched out endlessly before her, but only for an instant and then the light was gone, replaced once more with murky darkness. Shoney was soaked through to the skin, her body stooped from the weight of her water logged cloak and tunic, but she was not deterred. Something powerful had beckoned her—needed her, and she would answer its call.

  There were only two things she knew for certain. First, she had to make haste to the Daione Shi Knoll, and second, whatever it was that waited for her there would unequivocally change her life.

  The Knoll kept flashing over and over again in her mind’s eye. She knew this spot well. It was believed to be the entrance to the faery kingdom. Shoney smiled for a moment when she remembered advising Flora on how to treat her son when he fell on the pink flowers while at play. But that was many years ago. Shoney sighed as she pressed on.

  At last, Shoney arrived just as lightening slashed across the sky. Winter had drained the Knolls beauty. Everywhere, the rocks were exposed having shed their summertime coat of thick moss, and though their jagged edges appeared sharp and severe, in truth, Shoney sensed a frailty about the place. She felt sadness everywhere, as if the stones themselves yearned for their glory days of emerald green abundance and the splendor of pink flowers.

  She moved along the stones certain they held a treasure that was meant for her. Hidden among the tallest of the rocks, Shoney spotted the tiny bundle the cloaked figure in her vision had been carrying. She bent low and folded back a piece of sodden wool, exposing the face of a sweet babe, shadowed by darkness. It was tiny and icy cold to the touch. Even with the wind howling, Shoney could hear the baby’s raspy breaths.

  Ga
zing down upon the helpless innocent, Shoney realized it was the baby’s heartbeat that invaded her sleep and set the night’s events in motion. Its spirit had beckoned her. Without further delay, she withdrew the small vial from her pocket and removed the wax casing. Then, with a sure hand, she poured the contents down the infant’s throat. The child sputtered and hiccupped, but the effects were immediate. With joyful relief, Shoney listened as the baby’s breathing grew deeper.

  Wasting no time at all, she scooped the infant into her arms, wrapping the folds of her cloak tightly around them both. But before she began their journey home, Shoney crooned, “Everything is just as it should be.” Then she dipped her head, placing a kiss on the baby’s brow. When her lips touched upon the infant’s forehead a white light flashed in Shoney’s mind, followed by another vision.

  The badge of the Mackinnon, a fir branch, was suspended high against the starry sky. There was a stillness in the air and an eerie silence, which was broken suddenly as the branch burst into bright flames. And in the distance, Shoney heard a single warrior sound the battle cry of the MacKinnon, Remember the death of King Alpin.

  Shoney snapped back to full awareness. She did not understand the significance of her vision but divining the truth would have to wait until both she and the babe were warm and dry. As if to hasten her onward, the storm intensified. Lightening slashed once more through the clouds and thunder shook the ground, creating a din like that of an army on the move. The baby whimpered in response, but Shoney pressed it close and said, “Hush now, be not afraid little one. ‘Tis only Taranis, the thunder god. He is making himself heard this night.”

  As silent as she could, Shoney entered the great hall and sat with the child by the fire. Not surprising, there were no traces of plaid or markers to hint at the origins of the baby, just small strips of wool. The child was likely left to the faeries because of some deformity or imperfection, but a quick examination showed she was a perfect baby girl and only days old. Shoney wrapped the babe in a clean plaid. Then she cradled her close and fed her some goat’s milk.

  “You will be called Nellore”, Shoney told her as she drank hungrily, “feral one.”

  At dawn, Shoney awoke still seated in the chair with Nellore cradled in her arms.

  “You have been busy, my dear.”

  Shoney looked up to see Ronan staring down at her with a bemused, and slightly bewildered, look on his face. Shoney spoke of how she had come to find Nellore and gave Ronan an account of her vision.

  He paced the length of the hall, clearly needing time to absorb all she had said. His pace quickened and his plaid swirled about his knees as he appeared increasingly more agitated. After a while, he looked at Shoney, his face strained with frustration.

  “But what is the significance? What does this mean?” he asked.

  Shoney laid the sleeping infant on a pallet and walked over to where Ronan stood, wrapping her arms around his waist.

  “I know not the fullness of meaning, Ronan. The only thing I am certain of is that the destiny of our clan and the destiny of this small child are somehow crossed.”

  “But for good or for ill?”

  “I do not know”, she answered.

  He brushed the back of his fingers across her cheek and tilted her head as he placed a lingering kiss on her lips. For a moment, Shoney forgot Nellore and the future of the clan. All she saw and felt was the man before her. Age had only increased his appeal. His features were more rugged and handsome than ever, and the streaks of silver at his temples contrasted against the amber of his eyes, making them even brighter.

  “What would you have me do?” His words brought Shoney back to reality.

  “Find a good family to raise her, one that will love and cherish her.”

  Ronan walked to where the baby slept and knelt down beside her. He gently pressed a kiss to Nellore’s brow. “I have a family in mind—Ewan MacKinnon.”

  Shoney considered Ewan and his lovely wife, Brenna. It was well known that Brenna longed for a child but was unable to conceive. They would make fine parents for Nellore, but would the clan be suspicious of a child taken from the Daione Shi Knoll?

  “Will the clan accept Nellore?

  “Do not fret, my love. I have already considered the problem of her origins. You know as well as I that the village women gossip about Brenna.”

  “Aye, I have even heard it said that Brenna is barren because the faery queen is jealous of her beauty and so makes changelings of her unborn.”

  “We shall bring Nellore to Ewan’s home under the cover of night. We do not need to tell them your story, only that she now belongs to them. We will of course provide them with an appropriate tale to share with the clan.”

  Ronan lifted Nellore into his arms. “Let it be told that Ewan and Brenna find Nellore by their fire when they woke, swaddled and lying in a basket. Some will say the faery queen must have witnessed the goodness of Brenna’s heart and decided Brenna was a woman deserving of motherhood. Others will claim it was the merciful Son of God who gave the child to the couple owing to their great virtue. Either way, I believe all will rejoice. We shall make a celebration in her honor and send for the abbot.”

  “Why?” Shoney asked.

  “We shall summon him to baptize Nellore, which will remove any lingering doubts about the holiness of her origins.”

  Shoney laughed playfully, “Do you mean the clansfolk might disapprove if we told them the child was discovered at the doorway to the faery kingdom by the infamous Witch of Dervaig?”

  “Yes, my pagan queen, this might produce a few objections,” he chuckled. “Now, Bridget, be a good Scottish wife to your laird and change this child. She has wet through my plaid.”

  She laid Nellore on a blanket to change her, but Ronan grabbed her from behind and pulled her into his arms for a kiss. When his lips left hers he whispered, “But make sure ‘tis Shoney who comes to my bed tonight.”

  Note from the Author

  Dear Reader,

  I wanted to relate a little of the debated history that inspired the battle scene, which threatened to part Shoney and Ronan forever. What really happened on the shore of Largs between King Alexander III and King Haakon remains largely in dispute. Many older accounts tell of a great battle with high death tolls on both sides. More recent historians contend that it was so minor an event, it may be more aptly named, the Confrontation at Largs.

  Whether truth or legend, many assert that Alexander did in fact prolong negotiations through the summer with King Haakon in order to keep him in the Firth of Clyde until autumn. The Scottish king’s motive was to expose the Norse fleet to damaging conditions brought on by the areas notorious seasonal storms.

  I hope you have enjoyed this fictional tale. Stay tuned for the coming sequel.

  With Gratitude,

  Lily Baldwin