Seven Moons Back to the Highlands

by Deborah R Stigall

  Rachel barely whispered the words into her pillow half hoping Caelan would hear what she was saying and offer a way to help.

  Ever since the meeting in the garden with Roderic and with her increasing ineptness with everyday duties around the Keep, Rachel’s discomfort at finding herself in ancient Scotland was becoming more impossible for her to bear each day.

  Propping himself up on one elbow, Caelan smoothed her hair away from her face as he watched Rachel stare blindly at the wall. “Ye know ‘tis impossible. This is your home now. We’ll live here raise our bairns and grow old together.”

  Whether it was the sing song tone to his voice or his placating words, she didn’t know but something inside her snapped. “You don’t know that! You can’t promise me that! You keep spouting that malarkey and you have no way of guaranteeing any of it and I’m sick of listening to it!”

  Throwing back the bedclothes, she struggled to rise from the bed as quickly as her rounding body would allow; purple fire flashing from her eyes as she rounded on him with a pointed finger.

  “You might be able to hand out your lame promises to the women of this time who hang on to your every word your lairdship but this woman knows the truth!”

  Pushing her black ringlets from her face, she huffed in frustration as she searched for a ribbon to tie the unruly mass out of her eyes. “Dammit what I wouldn’t give for even one freakin’ rubber band right now!”

  Throwing on her dressing gown, she disappeared behind a curtained off corner where Caelan heard her fumbling with the chamber pot.

  “And a bathroom with running water but nooooooo it either has to be a chamber pot since I have to piss every freakin’ five minutes since your sons use my bladder for a trampoline or I get to use a garderobe that we in Kentucky used to call an outhouse!”

  Caelan rolled back against the pillows, his arms propped behind his head as he stared at the canopied ceiling of the great oak bed. He remembered Emrys and Yvonna warning him about a pregnant woman’s mood swings and that Rachel’s would grow increasingly worse as her discomfort grew. If the bairns weren’t due to come until after the new year the entire clan could be in danger of losing their lives.

  Emerging from behind the curtain, Rachel’s eyes were still flashing purple venom as she approached the bed, her hands chopping thru the air with every word she spoke. “Roderic is going to try to kill you, lay claim to your throne or whatever it is you call it claim me do who knows what to our sons and all you can do is lay there and tell me that we’re going to grow old together and raise our bairns? How stupid do you think I am?”

  Hands on her hips, Rachel’s eyes narrowed as she waited for what she was positive was going to be Caelan’s next stupid statement.

  Pursing his lips as he chose his words carefully, Caelan nonchalantly arranged the bedclothes so that Rachel couldn’t see just how much her fiery tirade was exciting him. Lore the woman had passion. As soon as he managed to smooth her feathers he was going to have to see if he couldn’t channel those emotions into a more enjoyable outlet.

  “Rachel as I’m sure Emrys already told ye, Roderic and I have been sworn adversaries since he sprang from my father’s mistress’ womb.” Carefully controlling his voice, Caelan watched Rachel as she circled the room like a caged lioness. “My father took a mistress when my mother died bringing me into the world. He swore he’d never marry again for my mother was his one true match but he was a lusty man and Roderic’s mother filled a need. But, when she brought forth Roderic and found it didna change my father’s thoughts on remarrying she abandoned the lad on the steps of the Keep saying the only reason she’d brought the bastard into the world was to secure a place at the head table for herself.”

  Caelan slowly rose from the bed, stopping as Rachel’s eyes narrowed and her lips thinned as though she’d draw a weapon if he drew any closer to her.

  “So ye see,” He continued his story as he returned to sit safely on the edge of the bed. “Roderic resents the fact that his mother abandoned him merely used him as a pawn and then tossed him aside when it didna work.”

  “But it appears that your father took him in it doesn’t look to me like he’s too much the worse for wear.” Rachel stood with her arms crossed over her swollen belly, one foot tapping impatiently on the stone floor.

  “Aye he was taken in but the man will always be known as a bastard and as you yourself have said Ye know how cruel Scotland can be especially for one so labeled.” Caelan waited patiently for Rachel to see reason wondering if he was ever going to be able to escape the room alive considering the murderous mood his wife was so obviously in.

  Pacing the room, Rachel rubbed her temples, her body a maelstrom of thoughts and emotions. “I understand his bitterness and jealousy but that doesn’t dismiss the fact that he’s a danger to you and our sons I’m not worried about myself if he bothers me I’ll just cover him in bird shit again!”

  Dropping to the fur-covered settee by the hearth, Rachel buried her face in her hands finally giving way to her tears. No one took her concerns seriously in this century! No one listened to reason!

  Groaning in dismay, Caelan rushed to her side. Damnation! Don’t let the woman be reduced to tears. Let her rant and rave let her throw things and threaten to cast every spell she might ever hope to know but by the Goddess don’t let the lass cry.

  “Shhhhh Rachel hush now ’twill be all right and I’m not just saying that!”

  Caelan rushed to be heard above her sobs that grew even louder over his ill-chosen phrase. As he tried to pull her into his arms, he heard a knock at their bedchamber door.

  “What!” He roared, as he smoothed Rachel’s hair, her tears still flowing freely down her cheeks.

  Yvonna entered the room with a tray of fresh fruit but froze as soon as she saw Rachel sobbing in Caelan’s arms. Quickly sliding the tray on the table beside the bed, Yvonna rushed to Rachel’s side.

  “Are ye ill, Mistress?” Smoothing Rachel’s hair away from her face, Yvonna searched Rachel’s red-rimmed eyes with concern.

  “No.” Rachel snuffled, bursting into a fresh tirade of tears. “I’m just miserable because no one will listen to the danger that my husband and my sons are in and there’s nothing I can do about it because of this stupid century where all women are expected to do is b-b-breed and then just accept whatever fate hands to them and walk around with sunshine spouting out of their mouths!”

  Turning away from Caelan, Rachel stuffed her face into a pillow as she howled anew, completely missing the shocked looks exchanged between Yvonna and her laird.

  “I see ” Yvonna put her hands on her hips and turned to frown at Caelan.

  “What did ye say to her?” She hissed at Caelan as she pushed him into the large round solar just off the laird’s bedchambers. The morning sun streamed in thru the narrow windows knocking the chill from the air.

  His mouth falling open, Caelan’s hands fell to his sides as though he were a lad caught stealing bannocks from the larder.

  “I didna say anything I kept tellin’ her everything was going to be all right and that we’ll be fine and grow old together and raise our bairns.”

  “So ye talked to her like she was a daft idiot, did ye? Have ye no more sense than that fool Emrys?” Yvonna pushed Caelan farther into the room to prevent Rachel from hearing their conversation.

  “Woman what do ye think ye’re playing at pushing the laird about in his own chambers?” Caelan planted his feet and folded his arms across his chest, in his most staunch lairdly pose.

  “I think if the laird had a brain in his head, he’d be thinking of a way to keep his wife happy since she’s getting more miserable with the carrying of his babes with each passing day. Mayhap ye could speak with Emrys about Mistress Rachel working in his library or helping him with translating his books she could find it a comfort rather than all the other things she’s not been able to do.”

  Yvonna cringed at the memory of all the ruined needlework, burnt bread, spoiled weaving and r
ancid candle making Rachel had attempted to learn but just couldn’t quite seem to master when it came to this century’s skills.

  Caelan’s eye’s narrowed as he rubbed his chin and mulled over Yvonna’s suggestion. Perhaps she was right? If Rachel had something to do that she was actually capable of doing and enjoyed then maybe that was just what she needed to ease her into her new home and help her settle in at least until the babes arrived. Then she’d have three very important things keeping her days filled.

  “Emrys willna like it.” Caelan folded his arms over his chest, as he stared out the window across the yard of the keep.

  “Are ye not the laird?” Yvonna tapped her foot impatiently on the floor wondering why men had such a difficult time making the simplest of decisions about common sense issues but were able to arrange battle plans without batting an eye.

  “Some people seem to have trouble remembering that ” Caelan dryly replied.

  )O(

  “Ye should’ve seen her, Fergus. It nearly tore m’heart in two the way she was weeping all alone in the garden. The poor lass needs company right now the company of women and yet none draw near. ‘Tis unlike the women of this clan to be so cold and aloof!”

  Yvonna idly rubbed her hand back and forth across Fergus’ bare chest as she whispered into the darkness.

  Struggling to keep from dozing off after their hours of exhausting passion, Fergus inhaled deeply as he kissed the top of Yvonna’s head.

  “Mistress Rachel doesna seem to be growing closer to any within the clan but I dinna think she’s helping matters by keeping such close company with Emrys. She’s playing right into the hands of all the rumor-mongers who are intent on stirring fear at every corner.”

  “I saw her heal one of the stable lads yesterday. The herbs she gave him stopped the pain within his bowels. Then the wee idiot didna even have the courtesy to thank the Lady for her trouble!”

  Yvonna propped her head up on one hand as she stared into Fergus’ eyes. “Can ye believe the boy was convinced that she’d stolen his soul since he no longer felt any pain?”

  Reaching to smooth her tousled curls away from her face, Fergus smiled as he rubbed his thumb across her lower lip. “Yvonna ye know what a superstitious lot we have among us. Look how the Laird has had to shelter Emrys all of these years.”

  Pulling her head down to his, Fergus nuzzled the tender skin behind her ear. “Leave off worrying about the Laird’s wife ye’ve succeeded in waking me fully and now I’ll ne’er be able to sleep until ye sate me once again.”

  Sighing as she pressed her curves even tighter against his body, Yvonna smiled as she lowered her mouth to his. “Whoever said older men couldna keep the cold at bay all night long obviously never met you.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  “I overheard Mistress Yvonna telling Laird Caelan that he should allow Mistress Rachel to work spells with Emrys.”

  Maery the kitchen maid leaned in close to Ian as she whispered this latest tidbit of gossip.

  “Maery I canna believe the Laird would be a tellin’ his lovely wife to do such a thing. The woman’s heavy with his sons.”

  Ian shrugged his shoulders as he tried to pull Maery deeper into the pantry to steal a few kisses before they both had to continue with their chores.

  “Are ye callin’ me a liar?” Maery slapped Ian’s hands away as she shook a finger in his face. “I heard it with me own ears, I tell ye! Mistress Yvonna told the Laird that his wife is no capable of any of the tasks she has tried. Lore knows I’ve had to clean up the poor woman’s messes several times. Why she can’t even do needlepoint!”

  Wrapping his hands around Maery’s narrow waist, Ian pulled her against his chest. “The woman is not from this place. She wasna raised to do such things. ‘Tis nay her fault that she canna learn everything at once that it takes most maids their entire upbringing to master.”

  Placing her hands on either side of Ian’s face, Maery held his kisses at bay. “Fine. But how do ye explain Mistress Yvonna asking the Laird to have her work with Emrys? And Mistress Rachel was fair besotted with the idea!”

  Releasing Maery’s waist, Ian snorted in irritation as he frowned down into her face. “All I know is that Mistress Rachel seems verra kind and ye would do well not to let Yvonna or Fergus hear your tongue wagging these tales.”

  Her lower lip pouting, Maery ran her hands slowly up Ian’s chest as she decided to change her tactics it wouldn’t bode well if she failed the instructions given to her by Roderic.

  “I only worry for ye, Ian. I know how much the Laird depends upon ye and I’d hate for ye to fare ill in case the Mistress is a witch.”

  Finding it difficult to concentrate with Maery’s full bosoms pressing up against chest, Ian slowly shook his head as he bent for kiss. “Fear not, Maery I’ll keep a watchful eye now give me that sweet mouth of yours.”

  )O(

  “So these mirrors are how you found me why are there three of them?”

  Rachel stood before the three Mirrors of Time, her head cocked slightly to one side as she frowned at the swirling dark surfaces of each of the looking glasses before her.

  “Think about that question, lass. Even a novice such as you should know the answer to that.” Emrys snorted in irritation as he adjusted his spectacles a bit higher on the bridge of his nose and settled deeper into his chair. He was too damn old to be taking on an apprentice especially an emotionally explosive, hormone ridden pregnant wife of his laird. By all the Gods and Goddesses, he didn’t know what he’d done to deserve this task.

  Looking up from the manuscript he’d been studying, he watched Rachel as she moved back and forth in front of the mirrors. “We found ye in the future. That is the only hint I’ll be tellin’ ye.”

  Turning slowly to face the old druid, Rachel’s eyes narrowed as she chose her words carefully.

  “Emrys.”

  She paused to take another step closer to make sure Emrys could see deeply into her eyes.

  “I know you don’t want me in here. I realize this is your kingdom. But if you continue to talk to me like I’m some half-witted child and treat me as though you wish you’d never laid eyes on me then consider yourself warned. I won’t tell Caelan I won’t tell Yvonna but I will make you regret the day you were ever born. Because if you’d like to research a little into my ancestry you’ll find a bit of my DNA is a tad evil. Some of the witches in my family tree were burnt at the stake and for good reason they deserved it. Although my Wiccan beliefs are Harm None I’m willing to start making an exception if it comes to survival here in medieval Scotland. Do you understand me?”

  Rachel placed her hands upon the table and leaned forward peering deeply into Emrys’ clear blue eyes. Her unblinking amethyst stare didn’t falter as she waited for his reply.

  They both stared at each other for what seemed like several full minutes, neither blinking, both barely breathing. Finally, Emrys’ eyes barely narrowed as he slowly closed the time worn manuscript he held in his hands.

  “I’ve already seen your line and I know how powerful they once were.”

  Slowly standing with the aid of his staff, he pulled his spectacles from his face and wearily laid them on the table. “’Tis a shame there was no one of your time who could have trained you or guided you past the age of seven once your grandmother was gone.”

  Wearily rubbing his eyes, Emrys pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t think it a good idea for ye to hone your powers here because it could cause ye to end up on one of those burning stakes yourself.”

  Her eyes widening at this revelation, Rachel stood up from the table and began slowly pacing around the room. She hadn’t really thought about Emrys trying to protect her. She just figured he was being an old curmudgeon and didn’t want her invading his space and from the vibes she was getting from him she was sure that was still a wee part of it no matter what kind of guilt trip he was trying to play on her.

  She wasn’t totally naïve and she had watched him run a con on se
veral of the castle maids since they had returned from the twenty-first century. Emrys always managed to get the choicest meat pies, the finest pastries and the first ales pulled from the kegs in the castle kitchen. There was nothing slow or dumb about that old man.

  Clearing her throat, Rachel watched him closely as she spoke her next words. “I appreciate your concern for my well being. I can assure you that since we’ve been back that my paranoia has increased tenfold. In fact, that’s the main reason I’m in your sanctuary right now. The more I can learn the more empowered I become. So the best way you can keep me safe is to teach me.”

  Emrys’ lips thinned as he realized Rachel was onto him. He’d have to remember that in the future. Thank goodness she wasn’t one of the kitchen maids. He’d never get any of the best pieces of meat.

  )O(

  “Why are ye fidgeting so? Ye said ye wanted to be here.”

  Caelan leaned to whisper in Rachel’s ear as she shifted and rearranged the pillows in her chair for the umpteenth time in the hour she’d been sitting at his side.

  Huffing in exasperation, she shot Caelan a look of narrow-eyed disgust as she smoothed her dress over her well rounded stomach.

  “You carry around three six pound cannon balls in your belly and we’ll talk about sitting still.” Moving closer so she could jab him in the ribs for emphasis, she added, “And each of those said cannon balls has two arms and two legs that are in constant motion and they’re battling for more room and why didn’t you tell that man that he should treat his wife better!”

  Sitting straighter in his chair, Caelan cleared his throat as he grabbed Rachel’s poking hand and tucked it affectionately under his arm.

  “Mayhap because his wife should treat her husband with more respect and try not to spend so much time a wandering to the adjoining field to visit with her neighbor’s husband?”