Highland Charm: First Fantasies

by April Holthaus

  The girl braided her fingers together, holding them over her eyes, looking up at Lorna through the broken pattern the shadow of her fingers made on her face. She knew about the feud between the two families; she could not help but know. She had grown up hearing about the Calder raids, the thefts, the animosity that had plagued the Roses for so long. It seemed to her the hostility had intensified in the past two years. There had been more frequent raids with more than a few cattle and sheep taken, and men had lost their lives—both Calders and Roses. "Why didn't we stay here after my father died?" she asked at last.

  "Yer mother was lonely and missed her sisters, so she took ye home to Kilravok."

  The girl bent her head back so she could look into Lorna's face. "I think she was unhappy here. ‘Tis why she wanted to go away." A memory flickered at the back of her mind—something her cousin had told her once. "Hugh says the Calders didn't like my mother, that my Calder uncles didn't want her here."

  It was not a question and Lorna did not deny it.

  "But," Muriella continued before her friend could speak, "why have we come back now?"

  Lorna stared up at the leaves overhead. She was troubled and did not wish Muriella to see. "Yer grandfather Rose made a promise, and now he has no wish to keep it."

  "What did he promise? And why must he send me away?"

  "He believes ye will be safer here."

  At the slight hesitation in Lorna's voice, Muriella turned, leaning her hands on her friend’s knees. "But ye don't think 'tis safer? Can't ye tell me what they're trying to protect me from?"

  Lorna closed her eyes, placing her hands on top of Muriella's with a sigh. "I don't know what to think. But yer mother and I can't help believing ye'd be better off away from the Roses and Calders. They're greedy, ye see, and ye have so much that they desire. It keeps them always bickering and makes them unwise at times. Yet I could no’ bear to see ye taken from me." She pulled the girl to her breast and held her tightly.

  When she felt the tension in Lorna's body, Muriella remembered a conversation she had overheard once between her mother and her grandfather Calder. He came so rarely to Kilravok that she had been curious, and at Hugh's urging, the two children had knelt in the hallway to listen.

  "Will ye never leave us in peace, old man?" her mother had said. Muriella had been shocked at the tone of disrespect in Isabel's voice; old William Calder had once been Thane of Cawdor.

  "I'll leave ye in peace when I have what's mine returned to me."

  "'Tis yers no longer and well ye know it. 'Twas yer own choice to give yer title to yer son. Ye can't berate us for that."

  "I can and I do, woman. Ye're all a pack of fools and I shall regret till I die that I married John to one such as ye. No doubt ye drove him to his early grave merely to spite me."

  Her mother's voice was bitter when she replied, "My husband is dead. We can't change that, nor can yer false accusations reclaim what ye've lost."

  "I will have Cawdor back! I’ll not stand by and watch a bairn—and what's worse, a daughter of Rose—take it from me. I'll have it no matter how I have to get it. Ye are the last who should stand before me and cry 'Fair play!' Ye—"

  Hugh had dragged Muriella away then and she had clung to him, asking him to explain what she could not understand. For a while he had refused, but then, at last, he had given in to her entreaties. He told her that many years ago old William Calder had stepped down as Thane of Cawdor in favor of his young and vigorous son John, despite the grumblings of his three younger sons. But then John had died of consumption, leaving only a daughter to inherit Cawdor, and that had destroyed William Calder's plans. He and his three living sons were left with next to nothing, while the entire Calder fortune had gone to Isabel's tiny daughter.

  "But what did he mean when he said he would get it back?" Muriella had demanded, perplexed.

  Hugh had shaken his head, but Muriella saw the flicker of unease that crossed his face; he had been afraid. She remembered, too, that her mother had wept that night, and refused to let her daughter out of her sight for many days thereafter. Now, as she lay with her head in her friend's lap, Muriella realized that Hugh's unease had grown until it engulfed every person at Kilravok—even Lorna.

  All at once, the woman rose and began to pace in agitation. "They're all very much afraid."

  Muriella stood to face her, eyes bright. "Are they afraid of losing Cawdor?"

  Lorna saw an awful intelligence in the green eyes that held her own. "They're afraid," she repeated, "but 'tis no' just for the land they fear."

  The girl's eyes froze. "Afraid for me?"

  Lorna moved away, pressing her hands against her mouth.

  Muriella sensed that she wished she had never voiced her apprehension. The girl began to speak but found she could not form the words. They were choked off by a low humming in her ears that made her head begin to spin. She shivered at the chill that spread through her body, making her hands shake uncontrollably. The sheltering pines blurred before her eyes, dissolving into the image of a huge, shimmering loch. The water was black and still, except where the moonlight reached across in a wide gleaming path, and the trees scattered along its shore were tipped with silver leaves. Beneath the placid surface of the moonstruck water, shadows moved darkly, threateningly; then the water stirred, scattering the silver light into glittering fragments that shone for a moment, then faded into the blackness.

  Muriella thought she might fall to her knees when the humming in her ears grew louder, then began at last to subside. As the trees gradually ceased their spinning, she fought for breath, clasping her chilled hands together in an attempt to still their trembling. She didn't know what the vision meant, but she knew how it made her feel. "I think they're right to fear," she whispered.

  Lorna caught Muriella by the shoulders, turned the girl's face up to her own, staring into her still, dark eyes. She knew what those blank eyes and the cold, clammy feel of her shaking hands meant; Muriella had had one of her visions. Once, when her face had clouded over this way, she had foretold Lorna's own mother's death.

  Lorna believed in Muriella's gift. There was more to her than just a wild girl with strange green eyes. The aunts called her a witch, but that was because they were afraid, and Lorna ignored them. They did not want to believe in the Sight, but there were many in the Highlands who did. She felt the girl slipping from her grasp and shook her firmly. "Muriella!"

  "Aye," she responded as her eyes began to clear.

  Lorna attempted to divert her by pulling her back down into the bracken. She did not know how to comfort Muriella because she was so uneasy herself. She began to talk randomly, chanting old legends, hoping to settle the girl's mind on the past.

  Muriella listened, leaning forward slightly, but the words fluttered past; she heard only the sounds, the inflections. They had no meaning for her and began to mingle with the pulse of the river beyond. She rose, wandering from the voice, the trouble of trying to make sense of the words. She moved out of Lorna's reach, toward the water, where she knelt on the bank.

  Lorna's voice had flickered out at last. Gazing at her distorted reflection in a small pool, Muriella thought she heard a new sound flowing through the water. She turned her head, closed her eyes, and, wrapped within herself, she listened. Her eyebrows came together and her hair fell unheeded into the river as she tried to identify the source of the sound. It began to beat against her in heavy rhythm and the rhythm rose from the water. Finally her eyes flew open when she recognized the thud of horse hooves splashing through the river. They had begun far in the distance but now they were quite near. She fell into the musical pulse while the blood pounded in her ears.

  Something made her turn to look over her shoulder. A single rider sat several yards away from her, watching. He held a bloody sword in his hand and his eyes glittered, even in the long shadows beneath the leaves. As she stared at him, horrified, he grinned. It was then that she saw the guard lying half-concealed by the bushes, crumpled in a spreading pool
of his own blood.

  “William!” she cried. “No!” She opened her mouth to scream louder, but no sound came. Fear lodged in her throat, choking off her voice as she stood helpless, her heart pounding erratically. Before she could force her frozen limbs to move, a dozen horses came at her from the heart of the river.

  The thundering of hooves through the water made her turn, her mouth still open in a silent scream. Suddenly the river was crowded with steaming animals and strange men. The sight freed her voice and she cried out in terror—a long, high wail of warning that echoed upward through the trees. She did not need her Sight to tell her there was danger here. The faces of the men who glowered down at her from the safety of their horses told her that. She shuddered at a chill that set her body trembling.

  In desperation, she whirled toward the copse where she had left Lorna. She saw her friend running, trying to get to her before the men and horses. Muriella reached out, but as she did so, she felt a sickening coldness in her chest and knew that Lorna could not help her.

  Chilled and unthinking, she tried to run, but the man with the bloody sword blocked her path while the other riders moved forward threateningly. Finally one clear thought penetrated the fog of fear in which she moved; she could not escape them. They were everywhere, surrounding her in a circle of gleaming swords. Struggling to breathe around the constriction in her throat, she turned at last to confront the strangers. Another scream welled up from the hollow in the pit of her belly, but her tongue was swollen, useless, and once again no sound escaped her.

  "'Tis a bonnie lass she is," said one man, who sat easily on his horse before the others. The leader of the pack of riders, Rob Campbell of Inverliver, peered down at the girl, the patchwork of crisscrossed lines on his face crinkling as he gave her a reassuring smile. Despite her fear, Muriella noticed his thick, speckled beard lent softness to his leathery skin. There was kindness in his eyes, but she recognized in the blunt strength of his mouth a determination beyond her own. When he motioned behind him, a younger man rode forward.

  The new rider, John Campbell, leaned down, examining Muriella's face with care, surprised she seemed so young. As his uncle had said, the lass was bonnie, but his blue eyes betrayed nothing as they lingered on the lush auburn hair that fell in disarray half across her face and behind to her knees. Then he turned to Rob. "So," he said, "this is John Calder's heir?"

  Rob Campbell nodded. "'Twould be wise—"

  He was interrupted by a quick movement from Lorna that drew one man out of his saddle. He did not touch her, but stood watching, arms crossed. Lorna paused.

  The coldness in Muriella's chest expanded to her shaking limbs. Hardly aware of what she was doing, she stepped back instinctively into the river. Lorna saw the girl retreat, saw her shiver up and down as the water slapped her legs beneath her sodden skirt. Breaking through the ring of horses, Lorna flung herself toward Muriella and felt the girl clinging wildly to her neck.

  Lorna glanced once toward the castle, but she knew these men had been too wise. They had chosen the only path by which they could approach the tower without being seen by the guards: the river. The trees lining both banks effectively hid them from sight.

  Both John and Rob dismounted, pausing beside their horses in water that came to their knees. Lorna took the girl's hands from around her neck, cupping them in her own. "Muriella," she whispered, "this is what they feared. Ye'll be taken from here. Perhaps ‘tis even best, though ye may not believe it now." She stopped, glancing up at the waiting men. "It may be many years before we see ye again, and things change so quickly." Her words came faster and faster, as if she sensed that the men's patience would wear thin soon. "The time will come when ye return to claim yer heritage. When ye do, we must be certain 'tis ye who comes and no imposter. Take care." Her voice broke, but she steadied it resolutely and raised the girl's left hand to her lips.

  Muriella's eyes were luminous; they mesmerized Lorna with their steadfast gaze.

  "I must mark ye so we can always be sure." With a silent plea for understanding in her eyes, Lorna took Muriella's finger in her mouth and bit it off at the knuckle.

  Muriella wrenched back in disbelief at the searing pain. For a moment, she saw only blackness. She shuddered, the blackness cleared, and she saw Lorna with blood on her lips. Muriella screamed once, wildly, then again and again, until the pain leapt up her arm, silencing her at last. "Lorna!" she gasped out the name as if its owner were already far away—too far for her to reach. The men and horses began to circle before her eyes.

  She sank to her knees, looking up at her friend one last time. Lorna reached for her, but Muriella shrank back just as John Campbell stomped forward through the water, drenching Lorna when he came up beside her.

  "What in God's name have ye done to the lass?" he bellowed.

  Muriella did not understand what he said. In that moment, she heard only the angry rasp of his voice. The wavering image of Lorna's face was replaced by the unfamiliar features of the man who stood above her. Muriella froze where she crouched, half-covered by water, praying that the spinning would stop and the man above her fade into the moving shadows.

  John reached for Lorna, grasping her arm in an unrelenting grip, but then he felt Rob's hand on his shoulder.

  The older man nodded toward the castle meaningfully. "We must go before they send more men from the tower. We have the girl and 'tis all we came for. Leave her, Johnnie. She only sought to protect her charge."

  John hesitated while Rob bent to scoop up Muriella. Without pause, he lifted her from the water, swinging her up to his waiting horse. John glanced at Lorna once more, his fingers tightening on her shoulder, but when Rob shouted, "Johnnie!" he turned and mounted his own horse.

  As the men turned to go, the rider who had dismounted stood watching Lorna, a question gathered across his brow. John shook his head, calling down to him, "Come, Jemmie. We've no' the time!"

  Only then did the last man leap on his horse to follow the Campbells away.

  Lorna climbed out of the water and stood unmoving for a long time, then she lurched toward the nearest tree and clung to it. She could still see the look in Muriella's eyes, and the bloody image of the girl's hand would not leave her. She turned and retched into the bushes. She had lost Muriella, hurt her, and she was afraid for her. But she was afraid of the Roses and Calders as well. She could not think clearly. There was no answer.

  At last she made her way up the hill to pound on the unyielding door. As Isabel pulled it open, the hinges screamed and Lorna panted into the stifling air, "Muriella is gone!"

  Chapter 2

  Muriella sat tensely in front of Rob Campbell while his arm circled her like an iron band, protecting her from the tumult of men and horses all around. The girl watched the green world fly past and could not help clutching Rob's arm each time the horses thundered down a hill. The throbbing pain in her left hand weakened all her senses until she was aware of little besides the blood spreading across her gown and the agony that pulsed up her arm. She pressed the stump of her finger against her bodice, hoping to stop the bleeding.

  Behind her, Rob sat taut, driving his horse forward. Once he leaned down to say, "I'll see to the finger as soon as I can. A piece of the kirtle might help. Do ye think ye can tear it?"

  Muriella bit her lip. She did not wish to help him. She wanted him to be aware of her torment. Had it not been for him, her finger would still be whole. But the stabs of pain were becoming intense and she knew she must bind the finger before she lost much more blood. With an awkward movement, she lifted her sodden skirts and worked at the kirtle until she ripped a piece free.

  Just then the horse swerved to avoid some roots that straggled across the path. Rob crushed the girl against his chest so tightly that she thought her ribs had given way. When the animal was under control, Rob shifted his weight, loosening his grip to assure her as much comfort as possible. With one hand on the reins, he took the scrap of cloth from her and began to wind it around her finger. T
he movement of the horse made his task more difficult, but he dared not slow down so close to Cawdor. After struggling for a moment with the wet cloth, he grasped one end with his right hand and leaned down to catch the other in his teeth. Then he pulled sharply.

  Muriella sat still, closing her eyes against the spasm that nearly left her senseless. She looked away, unable to watch.

  "I'm sorry to have hurt ye, lass, but the bleeding must be stopped."

  The girl did not respond, but held her injured hand against her chest, praying the throbbing would cease. At last she opened her eyes and forced herself to watch the gentle hills covered with groves of oak and pine and hawthorn, hoping to distract herself from the pain. Still, every inch of her body was aware of the arm that circled her.

  Once John Campbell rode up beside his uncle. As he passed, he considered Muriella's face for a moment. She was uncomfortably aware of the intensity of his cool blue gaze. His eyes seemed startlingly light compared to his tanned skin, dark hair, and full beard. She saw again the menace that had radiated from those silver-bright eyes beneath their bushy brows when he had come crashing toward her through the water. Muriella shivered, sinking her nails into Rob's arm as John moved on ahead.

  "There now, lass, he won't he hurting ye, that I guarantee."

  The girl heard the kindness in Rob's voice and traced with regret the marks her fingers had made in his flesh. She passed her hand over the five crescents, hoping to make them disappear, but when she caught sight of the bandaged finger, her hand stopped in midair. Already the blood was seeping through the cloth, dripping down onto Rob's arm. Muriella felt a wave of nausea, and when she saw Lorna kneeling before her, raising her hand to kiss it, she turned to retch over the horse's neck.