Love’s Magic

by Traci E Hall

  She never heard the arrow that almost impaled her. Nicholas knocked her to the ground, furious that his dagger was in his tunic and out of reach.

  What kind of knight kept his weapons out of hand?

  All three pairs of eyes turned to the wall to see Maude standing before a secret entrance to the chamber. The tapestry that had hidden the door lay at her feet.

  “Will ye not die, bitch?” Maude’s hair was a rat’s nest of black tangles, leaves and twigs ensnared in the mess.

  She aimed the bow with another arrow notched to fly and pointed it at Celestia, who had scrambled to her feet. Nicholas pushed her behind him and faced the new threat. He would protect Celestia with his life, but God, how he hated to feel so powerless.

  Maude laughed, the sound as shrill as a broken lute. “Look at ye! Frightened as a doe in the forest.” She ground out between giggles, “Nicholas is mine. Do ye hear me? I’ve tried shooting ye, and ye get me instead! I’ve tried pulling you down the stairs, I’ve tried poisoning ye, and still ye breathe. Would that I had your magical powers, I would not be rotting away in these damn woods, alone.”

  Celestia hissed, but Nicholas would not let her step around him.

  “I want no other, Maude,” Nicholas said firmly. “I would never be yours. My heart belongs to my wife. Put the bow and arrow down, Maude, and we can discuss this rationally.”

  Celestia snorted.

  Maude snickered. “Ye’ve not had a taste of a real woman, Nicholas.” With one hand she tore her dress to reveal her breasts. “I warrant she has none as fine as these, eh?”

  Nicholas felt Celestia press her eating dagger into his palm. His fingers clasped around the handle as he said convincingly to Maude, “Well, Maude, my wife has finer. Lay the bow and arrow aside, and let us talk about this further.”

  Celestia punched him in the back while Grainne Kat yelled, “Nay! Maude, ye daft chick! He’ll not marry ye now. Where did I go wrong?” Grainne Kat’s voice warbled with grief as she straightened to her full height. “It was all for naught.” She held the sword in her hands, the blade steady. “Ye’ve killed me only son. Ye’ll pay, both of ye.” She stepped forward as Maude gasped.

  “Joe is dead?”

  Grainne ignored her daughter, focusing on Celestia and Nicholas. “Who do ye think kept the stories of the curse alive? Who do ye think sent word to the baron of the curse? I did! I tried to keep this heap of stone going, but Esmerada stopped me at every turn. She no longer cared for war! She wanted to raise her son … I thought I’d bide me time, for if the bairn was Robbie’s, as we thought, I knew Esmerada would change her tune. But once your features became more pronounced, we both knew it was not Robbie’s get that she’d nurtured at her breast. Nay!”

  Spittle flew from the old woman’s mouth. “The child was the spawn of the devil who had killed her love—but would she put the child aside? Nay. She chose to forgive the brat his father, while sending a curse on the baron for not claiming ye.”

  Grainne’s eyes were wild with rage. “What would we have done had the baron chosen to come back here ta live? How could she treat her bonnie Robbie MacIntosh so poorly by loving the brat of her rapist? How could she have forgotten such a massacre? She let Ian die a rebel’s death with no help from her, her, her own lover’s brother.”

  She lifted the short, yet deadly, sword. “And my husband. Ian and I had to be secretly handfast, as she would not even allow the MacIntosh clan in Falcon Keep.”

  Celestia darted from behind her husband. She said with utmost certainty, “You claim the Lady Esmerada was your friend, yet you poisoned her to gain control of the keep. You poisoned her slowly, with your dark herbs and treacherous tongue! It was not the Lady Esmerada who threatened to throw Nicholas from the battlements—it was you.”

  Grainne’s arms faltered. “How could ye know that?”

  Celestia shook her head, which was foggy and unclear. “It matters not—what did you hope to gain? You killed your best friend and sent her son away from his home and his mother. You had no claim to this keep. You kept alive the talk of the curse. The haunting of the north tower … you scared away the peasants and servants, but why?”

  Grainne Kat shrugged, then steadied her arms. “I remained loyal to the Scottish rebels and wore the MacIntosh plaid with pride. I knew that Nicholas would be back someday, and I could again bide me time.”

  Nicholas pulled Celestia close to him. “Why must we talk with weapons drawn? You have an unfair advantage if we are to work this problem through.”

  Maude screamed, “I want nothing worked out! Machair promised me the keep and you for my husband. Ye were not supposed to come back already married. Was he, Mother?”

  Grainne sucked her lower lip; her arms were tiring. “I would have bound ye to Maude, and then Falcon Keep could have been the saving of the rebels. Those who are left.”

  “Celestia has ruined everything, curse her,” Maude panted, her once pretty eyes now glittering like broken shards of stained glass.

  Nicholas stepped forward, the dagger hidden in his palm. “Grainne, I am married to Celestia, and I would not undo the tie. Mayhap there is another way we can help. Let us share some wine, some food.”

  He could feel Celestia bristling behind him.

  Grainne Kat lunged toward him, the sword raised. “Food? Wine? Ye killed me son. Ye must die!”

  “I didn’t kill him.” Nicholas sensed the movement just before she jumped forward; he swerved quickly, taking Celestia with him to the floor. At the same instant Maude let loose a white-feathered arrow.

  Grainne screamed.

  “Nay! Machair!”

  Grainne Kat fell to the ground, the arrow quivering from the center of her poisonous heart.

  Her wild eyes found Maude’s. “Me dochair, how could ye?”

  Maude dropped to her knees, cradling her mother’s head in her lap. “I didna mean it, I did not see you running! I only thought to kill them both. They’re rotten, and they’ve ended it all.” Maude sobbed and petted her mother’s gray hair.

  Celestia calmly stood, her figure wavering with the over-image of a taller, ebony-haired woman. “’Tis over, Katherine.”

  Grainne’s eyes widened, then closed. “Aye, Esmerada, ‘tis over.”

  Maude let loose a bloodcurdling yell and let her mother’s body fall with a thump. She shot to her feet and grabbed Celestia by the hair, murder in her eyes.

  Nicholas caught the woman by the shoulders, the small dagger now openly in his hand. He said, “I am so sorry, ‘Tia,” as he slashed down.

  Maude screamed, and Celestia fell to the floor.

  Ela clucked over Celestia. “Now, ‘Tia, it does not look so bad.”

  They stood in front of the mirror. Deirdre raised her brows. “Ye could just keep it covered with a veil, and no one would know.”

  “I hate to wear a veil at all times. And besides, Nicholas would still see.”

  Galiana nodded her head; her own locks bouncing as she practically swooned. “That is very true. Nicholas saved your life, ‘Tia, just like a knight of great chivalry should do.”

  Celestia’s temper flashed. “Aye! But he hacked off my hair to do it! I look ridiculous! I am a shorn sheep, a, a …”

  Deirdre laughed. “A woman who has realized that she had more vanity than she thought, eh, daughter?”

  Blushing, she said, “Nicholas liked my hair.”

  “I am so glad that this has turned out to be a love match after all.” Deirdre hugged her daughter from behind.

  Celestia threw her mother’s arms off, her chin tilted high. “It will be a love match once his beautiful hair is as lopsided as my own.”

  Nicholas poked his head in the chamber full of women. “Did I hear you calling for my beautiful head?”

  Celestia’s brandished the sharp blade in her palm. “Aye! Come sit here, and let me brush your hair.”

  Galiana squealed, “Nay! Nicholas, she means to shear one side of it.”

  “Traitor!” Ela threw a
pillow at her older sister.

  Celestia leaned back with a sigh. “I suppose she is right; you are much too handsome to walk around with uneven locks.”

  Nicholas chuckled, a sound so full of manly pride it made her knees tremble. He bravely came inside and kissed her cheek. “If saving your life was not proof enough of my love for you, then shear away.”

  “Honorable brute, can I get no sympathy at all?” She tossed the blade to the vanity table.

  Lord Robert knocked on the partially opened door. “Did you start the revels without me, then? I’ve brought the good Father Michael upstairs with me. I hope ye’re all decent.” He said loudly to the priest, “Ye never know, with a gaggle of women.”

  “Enter,” Celestia called.

  The priest’s one eye glittered with joy. “My Lady Celestia, I am so relieved to see ye safe. I have Maude in custody with the nuns. She’s confessed to the killing of your good servant, Bess, and shooting Viola, and other things.” He shuddered.

  “But why?” Celestia asked, her eyes tearing as she remembered her sassy maid.

  The priest shifted his feet. “It seems Bess saw her sneaking into the tower and thought to investigate. At the first, Maude insists that it was just an accident, that she did not mean to hit her so hard on the head.”

  Nicholas scoffed, “I think not—what about the apron tied around the girl’s neck? That was no accident; that was deliberate. Poor Bess was an innocent.”

  Father Michael made the sign of the cross. “Maude says that she could not let Bess live after she had seen the secret entrance into the tower. Bess was unconscious from the blow to the head, but still breathing, so Maude finished her off by strangling her with the apron strings. Then she dragged the body in the moat, and hoped it would sink.”

  Nicholas shook his head. “The knight’s bodies did, and if she had helped Joseph dispose of them, she would have known that.”

  Galiana blinked rapidly. “Poor Bess!”

  Father Michael nodded his head and forced a smile. “The nuns are saying prayers for Bess, that her murdered soul will find the light of heaven. And as for Maude—she is in solitary confinement. Those nuns could give lessons on earthly retribution. If Maude is not sorry now for the sins she has committed, she soon will be.”

  He said in a loud whisper to Lord Robert, “Now talk about a gaggle of women!”

  “Father,” Celestia exclaimed. “And have you prayed for Joseph, as well?”

  “Yea. He was a simple man, doing as he was taught. I pray that God will forgive his misguided sins.”

  The good priest shuffled his stance and peered closely at her. “Is something amiss with your hair, my lady?”

  Celestia pouted. “Hand me the veil, Mother.”

  Father Michael puffed with pride and clasped his hands. “On to a happier subject—a ceremony?”

  Galiana sighed with delight. “Aye, a renewal of vows in the old apple orchard.”

  Lord Robert clapped his hand on Nicholas’s shoulder. “A true welcome into the family.”

  Nicholas smiled past the grunt of pain stuck in his throat. “Any more welcomes like that and I won’t make it out the door.”

  Robert flushed.

  Ed and Ned raced into the room, their tunics the same ruby red as Nicholas’s. “Viola said Sally has everything ready; we have but to show ourselves.”

  Nicholas gazed at his wife, a vision in ivory and gold. The others around them faded from his mind, and every fiber in his being focused on Celestia. She stood, then walked to him with love shining from her eyes and placed her hand on his arm. He leaned down and captured her lips in a kiss that both promised and demanded.

  Ela giggled and Galiana blushed a pretty pink as the older women smiled in remembrance. Lord Robert huffed. “Enough of that! Ye’re married, now!”

  Deirdre punched her husband in the arm. “And since when has that stopped you from behaving like a man claiming his bride?”

  Lord Robert’s fair face turned a hot scarlet.

  She pursed her lips smugly. “That’s right!”

  Evianne pulled her granddaughter aside as the boisterous Montehues filed out for the reaffirmation of vows beneath the early summer sun.

  “Remember, cariad, that new love is splendid.” She bent down and whispered, “True love is uneven hair and onion breath.”

  Epilogue

  Five months later

  Santiago de Compostela, Spain

  Nicholas, are we there yet?”

  He used his knees to turn around on Brenin, the loyal stallion that had been one of many gifts from his wife. “Aye, a bit farther, ‘Tia. How are you feeling?”

  Her veil billowed in the slight breeze as she shouted, “How do you think I am feeling? My back aches, my hind end is sore, and I am bloody hot!”

  She immediately retracted her complaints. “I am sorry, Nicholas. It’s not hot. The rain is falling, the wind won’t stop howling. I am hot. Burning from the inside out. I am honored to make this pilgrimage with you. All the way to Spain.” Her eyes watered and she rubbed her swollen belly. “I didn’t know I was pregnant with ten babies when we left! I’m carrying a litter, Nicholas, and you just don’t understand.”

  Nicholas hid his smile as best he could. Ceffyl carried her rider with care, and they had traveled with no hurry. He thought his wife beautiful with her added flesh; she fairly glowed with good health.

  He bit his lip and gave her a wink. She was only five months along, yet her frame was so petite that the babe took up most of it.

  He cantered back to her and offered her his hand. “I told you that we should have stayed in that pretty village along the coast. We could have made this journey after the babe is born.”

  She stuck her chin in the air. “Nay. We said that we would make this pilgrimage, and we shall. But I want our child born at Falcon Keep, Nicholas, so no dawdling.”

  “I could have come alone, Celestia, and you would not be discomfited.”

  She turned on him, a round and feisty warrior. “You’ll not leave me behind! You said you wanted me to make this journey with you. Are you trying to get rid of me, Nicholas?” Her cheeks pinkened. “I am too fat!”

  “You are lovely. I am only thinking of you, ‘Tia.”

  She sniffed and studied the landscape, refusing to be mollified.

  He chuckled and looked to his men. Forrester doted upon Celestia’s every need, even before she thought of it. All doubts as to the knight’s loyalty had been put to rest when he’d arrived, with Ed and Ned and Brenin, to help him escape Peregrine Castle without being killed. It seemed the twins had found him in the village stocks, and set him free. Henry, Willy, and Bertram had sworn their fealty, and he knew that any of the four would lay down their lives for his wife.

  He was more than content with his lot in life, even if his wife did fluctuate from tears to joy faster than he could keep up.

  Nicholas led the way into the village that housed the Cathedral of Santiago. He dismounted before the shrine, bowing his head. He had arrived at the end of this pilgrimage a better man than when he’d planned it so long ago. He helped Celestia down from Ceffyl.

  They walked hand in hand through the doors of the cathedral. There, beneath a high altar, lay a marble sarcophagus containing the body of Saint James the Apostle.

  They each went to their knees. “I’ll need help getting back up again, Nicholas,” Celestia said playfully.

  “I imagine, ‘Tia, that being pregnant is akin to wearing armor.”

  “If you were to wear it all on your belly, I suppose!”

  “We have traveled far to be here,” he whispered. “This is truly a holy place.”

  “Yea. So take your time, husband, in asking for your boon.”

  He looked at Celestia in surprise. “I have no boon to ask for! I but want to give thanks.”

  Her heart fluttered. He was such a good man. She bowed her head, sending her gratitude, as well.

  Nicholas kissed the velvet box before laying it at the b
ase of the sarcophagus. The sun beat down upon his head through the stained-glass windows, creating a multicolored halo around his body.

  Celestia’s heart turned. She placed a hand on her stomach. Or was that the babe?

  A foot kicked her in the ribs.

  Light and warmth suddenly bathed her from the inside out, and she felt both filled and surrounded with love and knowledge. She basked in contentment.

  After a time Nicholas nudged his wife, who appeared to be in some sort of a trance. “Celestia? There are others behind us awaiting their turn to kneel.”

  She allowed him to haul her to her feet. “I am ready, Nicholas.”

  They walked together out of the cathedral and into the sunshine. “Thank you, Celestia, for coming with me on this journey. I know it has not been one of luxury or comfort.”

  “Oh, hush, Nicholas!” She rubbed her belly. “James and I are enjoying every minute.”

  Nicholas stopped. “James?”

  She grinned. “Yes. James. A fat and healthy baby boy who will have a wild Scot’s heart along with some stubborn English honor. I am most pleased, Nicholas.”

  Nicholas laughed. “I am delighted that I could accommodate you, my lady.”

  The smile slipped from her face. “My knees are sore from kneeling so long on the cold floor, and I am hungry. Yes, hungry! I want some fruit—nay—I want bread and gravy.” She waddled toward Ceffyl and allowed Forrester to assist her onto the horse.

  “Nay, not bread and gravy. Mutton with mint? Beef and lemon? Eels in butter? I vow I am starved, husband.”

  Nicholas gave a last glance filled with thanks toward the saint who had helped him find his soul.

  Saint James the Apostle and Someone’s sense of humor.

  Blessed be.

  Don’t miss Traci E. Hall’s next

  Medallion Press novel:

  ISBN# 9781933836560