by Katy Baker
"How will ye do that, lass?" he asked softly. "We are a long way from my croft and ye dinna know the way."
"Then I'll find someone to give me a lift!"
"With no coin to pay yer way? And ye an outlander? Nobody will take ye. Hate me if ye wish, lass. Lord above, it’s naught more than I deserve, but I will have my way in this."
His voice cracked with command, his jaw set with determination. Thea saw the laird in him suddenly, the man born to lead.
“If you think for one minute—” Thea began but cut off as the inner door suddenly burst open and a young woman came storming out.
The woman paused long enough to spin around and shout back into the inner room. "I'd rather die a maid than marry that...that...lecher!" Then she stomped off without giving Logan or Thea so much as a glance. A moment later an old man, who Thea took to be the woman's father, hurried after her.
"Women!" said a voice from the inner doorway. "I swear the good Lord only put them on this earth to make men's life a trial!"
A blond haired man came out of the inner room. He was of a height with Logan but where Logan was broad-shouldered, this man was wiry, with a build more like a runner. He shared the same golden skin with Logan though and Thea guessed who this must be.
Logan nodded. "Cousin."
The man grinned. "Is that all the greeting I get? After all this time? I couldnae believe it when a runner came to tell me yer password had been used at the gate! Come here, ye big ox!"
Logan grinned in response and the two men strode forward and embraced, slapping each other on the back.
"My, it's good to see ye," the blond man said. "How long has it been? Three years?"
"And then some," Logan agreed. "It is mighty strange being here again, I can tell ye."
"And mighty strange seeing ye here again," his cousin agreed. "I never thought to see ye inside these walls after....what happened. What brings ye here, cousin?"
Logan stepped aside. "This is Lady Thea Thomas, an outlander who fell foul of the Fae, just as we did. Thea, this is my cousin, Laird Eoin MacAuley."
Thea had no idea what was the proper form of address for a laird. Should she curtsey? She contented herself with inclining her head. "Hi."
Laird MacAuley stepped smoothly towards her, giving her a courtly bow. "Honored to meet ye, Lady Thomas. Run afoul of the Fae, eh? Then ye have my sympathy. Our clan has had quite our fill of dealings with those creatures." He took her hand and kissed it. "Ye are most welcome to my castle, Lady Thomas. How may I be of service?"
Logan cleared his throat. "She came through the stones of Druach," he said quietly. "And can only go back that way."
Something flared in Eoin’s eyes. "The stones of Druach?" he whispered. "I wonder what the Fae want with her?"
"What they want doesnae matter," Logan replied. "What matters is getting Thea home. Will ye help? I would ask ye to offer her shelter and do all ye can to find a woman named Irene MacAskill. She's the one who brought her here and she has been spotted here in Dun Ringill."
"Irene MacAskill?" Eoin replied. "I canna say I have ever heard the name but if she is in Dun Ringill then we will find her. In the meantime ye both will enjoy the hospitality of the castle. Now! A drink is in order!"
He crossed to a side table on which sat a decanter of wine and several glasses. Thea stepped up beside Logan.
"How come he knows who you are?" she murmured. "Nobody else recognizes you."
"It was part of the agreement," Logan murmured. "He was party to our plans from the beginning. Without him we could never have defeated the raiders."
"There!" Eoin said, carrying over three goblets. "A fine vintage. Italian. Brought all the way from Venice, or so the traders tell me. For all I know it could come from twenty miles down the road but as long as it does the trick, eh?"
Thea and Logan took a glass of the dark red wine. Logan didn't drink but Thea tossed hers back. A little false courage was just about what she needed right now.
***
Logan swirled his wine in the glass but didn’t drink. Instead, he watched his cousin. He still remembered the awkward corn-haired boy who had come to live with them at the age of twelve, shortly after the death of his father. Through the years he had become a trusted advisor. Logan knew his cousin had a weakness for women but when it came to matters of the clan, nothing was more important to him. That was why, when the time came, Logan and his brothers had left the clan in his hands. Logan was sure he would do right by Thea.
He let out a long sigh. "Ye have my thanks, cousin. I know this canna be easy on ye."
A smile quirked the edges of Eoin’s lips. "Lord above, man! It's the least I can do. Here, will ye have another wine?"
Logan shook his head. Eoin shrugged and knocked back another glass. Logan noticed that the decanter was half empty all ready. How many had his cousin had? Three glasses? Four? At this time in the morning?
"Who was that lass who went running out of here?" he asked.
Eoin grimaced. "Isabella MacMurray and the old fart with her was her father. He thought to buy my favor buy offering his daughter in marriage but I'll not marry a shrew. The girl is unhinged and as highly strung as a colt. I offered her a polite kiss in greeting and she went hysterical. Nay. I need a woman with some metal to her."
Logan said nothing. He remembered Mary telling him that Eoin was looking for a wife. It would be a rare lass indeed who could put up with Eoin’s wandering ways.
"I see ye are expanding the garrison," he said. "The town is fairly bursting with fighting men."
Eoin poured himself another glass of wine and gestured at Logan with it. "Aye. What of it?"
"I heard rumors that war is brewing with the MacKinnon. I thought it idle gossip seeing as the MacKinnons have been our allies for generations. But now I see a garrison preparing for war and the MacKinnons mustering on their land. What is going on, cousin?"
Eoin’s eyes narrowed. "The last time I looked, it was I, and not ye, cousin, who was laird of the MacAuley. I will do as I see fit." The icy tone of his voice took Logan aback.
"Aye, ye are," he growled in response. "And the last time I looked the Laird MacAuley was duty bound to do the best for his people."
"Dinna ye think that's what I'm doing?" Eoin said. "Laird MacKinnon refused to pay his tithes. I seized his ships in recompense. He didnae like that and came here threatening me. Me! Laird MacAuley! Laird of a clan ten times as powerful as his!"
Logan went very still. The MacKinnons had always paid a tithe to the MacAuleys and in return the MacAuleys had protected the smaller, weaker clan from the encroachments of their aggressive northern neighbors. The tithe had never been more than the MacKinnons could afford.
What had caused the MacKinnon to refuse payment? Was the clan in dire straits or had Eoin raised it to a price he couldn't afford? And to seize his ships? Even Logan's father, who had long argued that the MacKinnon ships should work in concert with the MacAuley ones, had been reluctant to do that. What was going on here? Why was Eoin war mongering?
He opened his mouth to speak and then shut it again. Ye are no longer Laird MacAuley, he told himself. And the business of the clan is no longer yers. Ye are only a blacksmith. Never forget that.
There was a knock on the door and a young woman entered. She wore a plain yellow dress with an apron over the top. She curtseyed to Eoin.
"Ah! Rian! This is Lady Thea Thomas and Blacksmith MacAuley. Escort them up to the guest chambers and see they have everything they need." He turned to Logan. “Go with Rian. Take some rest. We’ll talk more later.”
Logan nodded. “Until later, cousin.”
Rian smiled at them both. Logan recognized her. The last time he’d seen her she’d been in her teen years, helping her mother in the kitchen. There was no recognition in the lass’s eyes though.
"If ye would follow me, my lady, my lord?"
Thea put down her wine glass, gave an awkward curtsey to Eoin, and then they followed Rian from the room. The maid led them along the corrido
r and up a short flight of stairs to the guest quarters where they were given rooms next to each other. Logan thanked Rian then as soon as the maid had gone he knocked on Thea’s door.
***
Thea’s room was as swanky as anything in a high-end hotel. The walls were covered in wooden paneling, thick rugs decorated the floor and a huge four-poster bed that looked big enough for ten people dominated the room. Thea barely noticed.
She crossed to the window and looked out. Below was a large courtyard where horses were being groomed. People bustled around and the hubbub of a busy day floated up from below. It was a million miles away from Logan’s quiet, wild croft. Oh, how she longed to be back there!
There was a knock on the door and she wasn’t surprised when Logan pushed it open. Thea grabbed onto the window sill to keep from running to him. She longed to throw her arms around him, pull him close, and it took all her self control to remain by the window.
He stepped into the room and stood by the door, dark eyes searching her face.
“I...I...um. Do ye like yer room?” he asked lamely.
“My room?” she replied. “Is that what you came to talk to me about?”
“Nay, lass. Ye know why I came.”
“Do I?”
“I came to see that ye were all right. Ye aren’t going to make this easy for me, are ye?”
She crossed her arms. “Why the hell should I?”
He sighed. “Aye, I probably deserved that. I must go out now and search for news of Irene. I need yer word that ye will remain here."
Thea raised her chin and glared at him defiantly.
Logan frowned at her. "Yer word, lass."
Thea sagged, letting out a sigh. "Okay. Fine. I give you my word I won't try to leave town. Happy?"
He huffed out a breath, his shoulders sagging with relief. “I shouldnae be too long, a few hours at most. Eat. Rest. I'll be back as soon as I can." Then he strode to the door and left.
Thea stared at the closed door for a moment. What was she supposed to do now?
Restless energy burned through her veins. She paced to the window and looked down. She saw Logan emerge and cross the courtyard to the gates. He moved purposefully as though he knew exactly where he was going. Thea bit her lip, trying to get a grip on her anger. How could Logan do this to her?
He’s doing what he thinks is best for you, she thought. Best for me? She answered her own thought. What's best for me is being allowed to decide my own damned fate! Stupid, arrogant man! If he thinks I'm going to sit here like some good little woman while he decides my future, he's got another think coming!
She’d promised not to leave town but that didn't mean she had to sit in this room and wait for Logan, did it? She strode to the door, pulled it open, then made her way down the stairs to a landing with weapons hanging on the wall. A woman carrying an armload of sheets approached her and Thea was relieved when she recognized Rian.
“Oh!” Rian said when she spotted Thea. “I was just bringing ye fresh bedding, my lady. I thought ye’d want to rest after yer journey.”
“No, I’m not tired.”
“Would ye care for something to eat then?”
"That sounds great," Thea said with a smile. “I’m starving.”
Rian put down her sheets. “This way, then. Margaret will be serving breakfast in the Great Hall by now.”
Thea followed Rian down the stairs and into a cavernous room with a high ceiling, tall windows, and a huge fireplace at one end. Thea had spotted it when they first came to the castle when it had been full of sleeping soldiers. It seemed the soldiers had been turned out for the day and now the room was full of long trestle tables at which people of all ages sat eating.
“This way,” Rian said cheerfully, taking Thea by the arm and guiding her to a table near the fireplace where an aging couple were talking quietly. Rian introduced her.
“Margaret, Malcolm, this is Lady Thea Thomas, Laird MacAuley’s guest. Lady Thea, I’d like ye to meet Steward Malcolm and Housekeeper Margaret. I’ll leave ye in their care.” With a squeeze of Thea’s arm the young maid turned and left.
“Sit, sit!” Malcolm said, waving Thea to a seat on the bench. “My wife and I are mighty pleased to meet ye.”
“Thanks,” Thea replied, taking a seat. “It’s good to meet you too.”
"Ah! Ye are an outlander by yer accent!" Margaret said, leaning close. "Where do ye hail from? I canna say I've ever heard such an accent."
Thea thought quickly. "I'm English. From Cornwall."
"Cornwall? My, ye are a long way from home. I havenae ever been that far south myself but Cornish metalwork is some of the finest I’ve ever seen."
“Um, yes,” Thea said. “I guess it is.”
The smell of food wafted through the room, setting Thea's stomach to growling. She realized that she'd had nothing to eat since she and Logan had shared supper last night. Her cheeks warmed as she remembered what had happened after that. Logan's hands on her body, his mouth hungrily devouring hers... How could things change so suddenly?
Margaret waved over a maid who placed a steaming bowl of porridge on the table in front of Thea. It smelled delicious.
"Get that down ye, lass," Margaret said kindly. "And there's plenty more where that came from."
The couple seemed friendly so, as she tucked into the porridge, Thea thought she would take a chance.
"I don't suppose you know of a woman called Irene MacAskill do you?"
Margaret pursed her lips in thought. "Hmm. Irene MacAskill? Nay, canna say as I do. Malcolm?"
The old man shook his head. “The MacAskill clan live many miles to the east. We dinna see many of them in these parts. Why do ye ask?”
“I was supposed to meet her here,” Thea replied carefully. “But she didn’t show. I was told she works in Dun Ringill sometimes as a healer.”
“Well, the best place to look would be the market on the main square. Many healers ply their trade there.”
“The market square?”
“Aye, right in the center of town. Ye canna miss it.”
Thea’s heart thumped. Finally, a lead on Irene! If she found the old woman before Logan did, she could get her to explain to Logan that his curse was a load of horseshit and then they could go back to the way things were.
What about getting her to send you home? She asked herself. Isn’t that why you need to find Irene?
She pushed that thought away, unwilling to explore it. She finished her porridge and dropped the spoon into the bowl.
“That was delicious. You’ve both been most helpful. Thanks!” She climbed to her feet.
“Wait!” said Margaret. “Are ye going to look for her now? If ye wait a minute, I’ll arrange for a guardsman to accompany ye. It isnae seemly for a noble lady to wander the streets alone.”
“Oh, that’s fine,” Thea said quickly. “I’ll be okay.” The last thing she needed was a damned chaperone!
Before Margaret or Malcolm could say anything else, she hurried from the hall, across the bailey and mingled with the flow of traffic exiting through the main gates.
Dun Ringill’s streets were even busier than when she and Logan had first ridden into town. The middle of the main thoroughfare had become a churned up mass of mud from the numerous carts making their ponderous way up to the castle and Thea was forced to pick her way along the edges along with everyone else.
As she walked a barrage of sights and sounds assailed her. Stallholders and hawkers cried their wares as she walked by and the smell of cooking food, spices, animals and sour ale all mingled together to assail her nostrils. It was a little overpowering and Thea forced herself to breathe evenly and walk with confidence as if she had the right to be there. Even so, she found herself wishing Logan was by her side. He would have led the way with unerring confidence and bellowed at people to get out of their way.
She smiled at the thought, wondering where he was. Out arranging to get rid of me, she thought. Her mood suddenly soured. Not if I find
Irene. Then there'll be no need to hand me over to his cousin and we can sort out this damned curse of his.
The main street was longer than she realized and she found herself walking for a good distance before it opened out into a square. Here the mud was replaced by flagstones and there were many stalls dotted around the square. Thea halted and looked around.
A small ferrety man, who was busy sewing a pair of boots, noticed her standing there. "Ah! Good day to ye, mistress!" he said. "Are ye looking for some fine new footwear? If so, ye have come to the right place! Ye'll find nay better quality in the whole of the Highlands—and reasonably priced too!"
"No, sorry," Thea replied. "I don't need any shoes. I was looking for a healer who has a stall here. Her name is Irene MacAskill. Do you know her?"
"Canna say as I do.”
Thea bit down her disappointment. She thanked the man and then made a circuit of the square, investigating the stalls and asking after Irene. Although one or two knew her, none had seen her for a long time. Eventually Thea found herself back where she’d started.
She perched on the lip of a stone water trough and sighed. Was Logan having more luck? Thea doubted it. Irene MacAskill, it seemed, did not want to be found. And if that was the case, it meant Logan would abandon her, leave her here amongst strangers, believing he had no other choice. The thought made her stomach churn with fear.
"Now that is one fed-up face if ever I saw one," said a voice.
Startled from her thoughts, Thea looked up to see that a woman had perched on the horse-trough next to her. She looked to be a few years older than Thea with long, shiny hair falling unbound down her back and sparkling, merry eyes.
"Sorry," Thea muttered. "It's been one of those days."
"Ah," the woman replied. "I know all about those kinds of days. Maybe I could help?"
Something about the way the woman spoke struck Thea as odd. She had a strange accent, part Scottish, part...something else.
"No. Thanks," she replied. "I was hoping to find someone here, that's all."
The woman nodded. "Yes, I know first hand how infuriating searching for Irene MacAskill can be."
Thea's head whipped round. "How do you know who I'm looking for?"