Highland Charm: First Fantasies

by April Holthaus

  She went to him slowly, trying to suppress her bitterness.

  Taking her hands, he examined them in the firelight. He noted the little finger, healed now but shorter than it should be by half. For some reason, he did not wish to look at her face. "Ye must no' listen to servants' gossip. Ye’re no’ a bastard. 'Tis just that yer grandfather Calder wants Cawdor back. He'd say anything to make certain he gets it."

  "They swore."

  "They lied."

  "Will ye look at me and say so?" She knew he could not lie to her if he once looked in her eyes.

  His head came up and his grip on her fingers tightened. "I swear."

  Brow furrowed, Muriella started to reply, but before she could do so, the door swung open. Richard Campbell crossed the threshold and stood gasping just out of the reach of the firelight.

  The Earl looked at him sharply. "What is it?"

  "Andrew Calder struck the men coming from Stirling." Richard tried to steady his harsh breathing, then added, "Seems he escaped to Mull."

  Argyll rose. "Is Maclean sheltering him at Duart?"

  "'Tis what we suspect, though we can't be sure. But there's something else." In his agitation, Richard did not see Muriella, who had slipped back into the shadows.

  "Well, man? Out with it!"

  "He murdered four of our men and he swore—"

  Argyll took a step forward. "He swore what?"

  "That he'll kill every Campbell he meets till ye give up the girl."

  Chapter 11

  As she had every night since she'd come to Kilchurn, Muriella slept uneasily. The Earl had been gone for a week now, and she had heard nothing from him. If John and Colin had received word, they did not tell her so; but then, they spoke to her as little as possible. John was away most of the time, and when he was there, he quarreled with anyone who had the misfortune to come upon him. Muriella stayed out of his way; she remembered all too clearly how he had stopped the Earl as he left the keep, heading for Cawdor.

  "Let me go after Andrew Calder. He's in our territory and his kinsmen are far away. I could take him with little trouble."

  Argyll had answered in exasperation, "I see ye haven't learned a thing. If Maclean is protecting the man, ye can be sure 'twill no' be easy to take him. And we can't risk antagonizing yer brother-in-law just now. Suppose he isn't aiding Calder? If ye attack Mull with a force, ye'll make him an enemy. And don't forget, he has yer sister. Ye must wait till Calder comes into the open."

  "If I meet him, I'll kill him!"

  The Earl had swung himself onto his horse. As he joined the dozen men who waited at the gate, he had called, "So long as ye see him away from Mull. But I warn ye, don't go to find him!"

  Tonight Muriella could not escape the memory. The scene played itself over in her mind, like a distant threat—or a warning. Eventually, when the darkness became so deep it blinded her, she fell asleep. In her dreams she heard her mother's voice: Will ye never leave us in peace, old man? And her grandfather's reply: I will have Cawdor back! I won't stand by and watch a child—and what's worse, a daughter of Rose—take it from me. I'll have it back no matter how I have to get it.

  Then her mother was floating down the aisle of the church near Cawdor. The room was alight with hundreds of candles, and wild roses decked the walls and benches. Near the altar stood a man Muriella recognized as John Calder. He gave his hand to Isabel and the two repeated their vows while the candles cast flickering shadows over their bent heads.

  When the couple rose from their knees, Isabel dropped her husband's hand to turn toward the gloom at the left of the altar. A man stepped from the shadows, taking her in his arms. She offered her lips to him while the congregation gasped. When she stepped back, everyone saw the man lift his hand in salute. It was too dark and his figure too indistinct for anyone to recognize him, but they saw quite clearly that half his little finger was missing on one hand.

  Isabel turned, kneeling again at the altar. The church was filled with shadows that danced over her face before melting into leaves overhead. The altar became the moss on the riverbank, and Isabel became Lorna, kneeling in the water with blood on her lips. Her mouth was moving, forming the words, We must always be certain we know who ye are.

  Muriella stared down at her hand, covered with blood. She could still see the blurred shape of the man in the church with his half-finger outstretched. When she looked at Lorna, she was Isabel, and she was weeping. "Forgive me! Forgive me!"

  Muriella sat bolt upright in bed. Pulling her knees up to her chest, she rocked in silence. She dug her fingernails into her legs through the soft wool of her night rail, hoping the pain would bring her back into the present, away from the influence of the dream.

  In a moment, Megan appeared at the bedside, her brown hair loose around her shoulders. "Have ye been dreamin' again?"

  Muriella nodded, fumbling for the servant's hand. Megan locked her warm fingers with her mistress's cold ones, trying to force the heat from her body into Muriella's.

  The servant asked no more questions and Muriella clung tightly to her hand until she fell asleep again. Even then, she did not loosen her grip.

  Megan stayed where she was, brow furrowed, until she sensed that dawn had broken.

  * * *

  Muriella awoke with a feverish glow in her eyes. "Megan, I must go to the Gypsies. There are things I must know."

  "But miss, 'tis just past dawn. 'Twill no' be safe to leave the keep yet. Wait till we've broken our fast. Then Duncan and Adam can come with us."

  Throwing off her night rail, Muriella bent to pick up her gray kirtle where it lay near the dying embers of the fire. "I must go now. I can't stay still." As she spoke, she pulled her cloak from the peg beside the door and tossed it over her shoulders. "And I must go alone."

  Megan had her gown half over her head in an instant. "No. 'Tis too risky. At least let me go with ye."

  Muriella stopped her in the middle of tying the strings of her gown. "Ye can't. I'll be safe, I know that much. I'm no’ in danger today."

  Megan saw the certainty in Muriella's gaze and found it oddly reassuring. "Ye're sure?"

  "Aye. Ye must wait for me here. And don't tell them. Please."

  Twisting her fingers together, Megan berated herself for her foolishness a moment longer before the determination in Muriella's face dispelled her doubts. "If ye must. But take care."

  Nodding once, her mistress turned to disappear through the door.

  * * *

  "Where is she? Christ! Have ye let her go again?"

  Megan heard the suppressed fury in Colin's voice and clasped her hands behind her nervously, trying to still their trembling. She looked up into his face, distorted by his anger so the lump between his brows swelled and pulsed. "I don't know, m'lord. She was gone when I woke."

  "She was, was she?" Colin pounded his fist on the table standing between them. "Isn't it yer duty to care for her, to keep watch over her? Do ye let her wander about on her own?"

  "I can't stop her, m'lord."

  "Damn ye, girl! Don't ye know Andrew Calder seeks her day and night?"

  "Aye."

  "Do ye know why he seeks her? Do ye think 'tis to take her home to her mother?"

  Megan shook her head.

  "Well then, ye know he wants her life. Do ye hear? Her life! And if she were to lose that, we would lose Cawdor. It must not happen."

  Megan continued to stare at him but said nothing. She was thinking of her mistress alone in the Gypsy camp. Suddenly, Muriella's belief in her own safety seemed absurd.

  "She isn't in the castle." John and several other men joined Colin in the Great Hall, where he stood over Megan. "Where the devil has she gone? I won't ask ye again."

  When the servant remained stubbornly silent, Colin brought his palm down hard across her cheek. "Speak!"

  Grasping the tabletop, she was just able to catch her balance when he swung from the other side. This time she fell, hitting her head on the bench. When she looked up, Duncan was s
tanding over her. He offered his hand and she took it; her own was shaking and she could not stop it.

  "Leave the girl alone." Duncan's voice was soft compared to Colin's growl, but he caught the men's attention. "I think she might have gone to the Gypsies."

  "Why in the name of all that's holy would she do that when 'tis barely light out?" Pushing past Colin, John confronted his squire.

  "She seems to find comfort there. She's visited them many times in the past week. I suggest ye search the camp first."

  John considered for only a moment before signaling to the other men to follow. "The camp it is, then. Colin? Are ye coming?"

  With a last glowering look, Colin left Megan to join the others. "Ye're damned right I'm coming. I want to be there when we find her," he hissed. "Whether she lives or no'."

  * * *

  Muriella moved slowly, feeling her way through the fog. She had come to know this path well in the past week, but the mist-shrouded landscape that shimmered around her was one she had never seen before. It was as if the fairies had touched the morning with their cool, billowing breath and made a new world for their pleasure. Muriella felt isolated, cast adrift in a sea of swirling moisture that clung to her hair and face, pressing closer and closer, leaving her alone with the scent of heather and the memory of her dream. When she stumbled over a root, she paused to peer into the enfolding whiteness. It was so quiet, so achingly still, that even the sound of her breathing seemed to cease. But there was something—some distant music that penetrated the silence. Was it the rumble of the river? All at once, she was afraid of the damp stillness. Desperately, she pressed outward with her palms to break through the mist and reach the distant healing murmur. The movement seemed to free her from the cloud of silence. With a sigh of relief, she started forward again, following her instincts toward the Gypsy camp.

  Alex was waiting in the purple tent, as she had known he would be, sitting on the cushions scattered along one wall. As her eyes adjusted to the light, she saw the single room was rich in hangings. Like the cushions, they were worked in deep colors and designs that were strange and fascinating to her.

  "What's troublin' ye, lass?"

  In the somber light, Muriella could not see his face, so she moved closer. "I've come to ask ye if I'm a bastard."

  Alex remained silent for a long time. Finally, he motioned to a cushion beside him. Muriella sat down with reluctance, because from there she could not read his expression.

  He took her hand, holding it loosely, running his fingers over her palm as if seeking the answer she needed. "Ye're the legal daughter of Isabel Rose and John Calder. Ye’re no’ a bastard."

  She thought his voice quavered slightly, but she couldn't be certain. "How do ye know?"

  "Ye came to me, didn't ye, because ye trust me more than those at the castle? Because ye know I have knowledge others don't? Then ye must listen to what I tell ye. Ye are legitimate."

  She leaned forward, seeking reassurance. "They say my mother had a lover."

  Alex shook his head. "I don't know everything about yer past. I can't tell ye whether 'tis true or no'."

  Muriella was not satisfied. Something was bothering her, some uneasiness she could not quite understand. "Why have ye come here?" she demanded without warning.

  He did not seem surprised by the question. "We always camp in this valley in the winter. The Earl makes us welcome when other's don't—mayhap because we bring him news he would no' get else—so we come back year after year."

  "But there's something more than that, isn't there?"

  Alex sighed in resignation. "Aye, there's another reason. We were in the north last, in Nairnshire."

  "Near Kilravok?" All at once Muriella thought she understood.

  "Aye. There's trouble brewin' there, as ye've no doubt guessed, especially between the Roses and Calders. People in trouble sometimes seek out the Gypsies, so yer mother came to me."

  "She told ye about me?"

  "That she did. Ye see, people tell me things they wouldn't or can't—even tell their own families. Ye make them believe in ye and they find relief in speakin' of their problems to a stranger. When she told me of her fears for ye, I promised I'd watch over ye till yer marriage, since 'twas already our plan to come to Kilchurn."

  "She didn't forget me then? I thought, somehow—" Muriella could not go on.

  "How could ye believe such a thing?" Alex asked gently. "A mother doesn't so easily forget her bairn."

  The girl felt her heart contract with an ache that spread through her chest and slowly outward to her limbs. Forcing herself to stand, she said, "She sent me away, ye know. She knew the Campbells were coming and didn't even try to stop them." She was shocked at the ragged hurt in her own voice.

  "Have a wee bit of faith," the Gypsy murmured. "She must have had her reasons."

  Turning away to hide the tears that burned behind her eyes, Muriella pressed her hands against the wall of the tent, seeking support. Only then did she realize how much she missed Isabel. She wanted to sit at her mother's side, to hear her soft voice, feel her gentle but firm hand. She wanted to look into Isabel's blue eyes and ask, "Why? Why did ye send me away? Why didn't ye tell me the truth, a lie, anything to help me understand? And why can't ye hold me and help me forget?" But her longings were hopeless, the answers to her questions silence. The knowledge brought her an intense loneliness.

  While she struggled to catch her breath, a flash of anger flared within. She whirled to face Alex again. "If she fears for me, why don't ye take me away from here, back to Kilravok?"

  "Because ye belong here."

  "Why?"

  Alex rose to grasp her shoulders in both hands. "'Tis simply right that ye should be here. Ye don't understand that yet, and I can't make ye do so. But 'tis true just the same. Ye'll save yerself a great deal of pain by learnin' to accept it."

  When Muriella shook her head, the Gypsy released her. "Ye're too stubborn by half, lass. Mayhap ye'll learn that in time. But ye'd best go now. I'm weary, and no doubt the men at the keep have missed ye."

  "But-"

  "Go! I've nothin' more to say."

  Muriella balked. She did not want to go, to leave this place where she felt a vague and tenuous bond with the mother she had lost.

  The Gypsy stood, arms crossed, unrelenting. He gave her no choice. Muriella stifled a sigh, turned and ducked beneath the tent door. The flap fell closed behind her, shutting away the soft, kind shadows, the fleeting memories she had tried so hard to grasp. But her hands were empty now. She felt numb, as if she walked in a dream.

  Slowly, the sun had begun to burn away the mist. The rising light destroyed even the dream, and Muriella stood alone and unprotected in the sun. She squinted at the line of horses along the rise overlooking the Gypsy camp. Some of the riders had seen her. She drew herself upright and waited for them to come. There was nothing else she could do.

  As the horses approached, she saw John's face was distorted with anger and a kind of fear. Beside him, Duncan was smiling at her with relief. Bracing herself against the onslaught of John's fury, she held her hand up to him.

  Lifting her onto his saddle with one hand, John waved over his shoulder with the other. The riders who had reached the bottom of the hill paused, then stopped to await him.

  "Are ye some kind of lunatic?" John hissed in Muriella's ear. "Do ye wish to die, is that it?"

  "No," she said, surprising herself. “I knew I was safe. ‘Twas no’ my intent to worry ye.”

  He brought his horse to an abrupt halt, stunned by her apology.

  At that moment, Colin rode up beside his brother to glower at Muriella. "So ye found her." He leaned forward. "I'd like to whip the skin off yer back for the trouble ye've caused us today." He reached over to grasp her chin in rough fingers. "Do ye hear, girl?"

  "I'm no' afraid of ye," Muriella spat.

  "Ye should be. Ye will be after today. There's been nothing but trouble since Johnnie brought ye to Kilchurn. Thirty men dead, the Earl on
a hopeless errand among his enemies, and Andrew Calder threatening to attack us. All for yer sake."

  Muriella twisted free of his grip. "All for the sake of Cawdor," she said quietly.

  "Be quiet, Colin," John demanded in fury. "'Tis no’ the girl's doing. She can't stop this any more than ye can."

  "'Tis for her sake nonetheless," his brother repeated obdurately. "And mayhap it's all been for naught. Mayhap she's no more than a—"

  "Quiet! Ye fool!"

  When John felt Muriella stiffen, he glared at Colin. She had behaved unwisely, even dangerously, in coming to this valley alone, but she did not deserve his brother's vicious attack. To stop himself from blackening at least one of Colin's eyes, he dug his heels into his horse so it shot ahead of the others. When he stopped at the gate, John saw Richard Campbell was waiting for him.

  "M'lord—"

  "Is something amiss?"

  "Aye," Richard answered grimly. "Andrew Calder struck on the shore just beyond the outer gate while ye were away. He'd near thirty men with 'im."

  Colin came up beside them, jerking his horse to a standstill. "I heard," he said. "Did they try for the castle?"

  "No, m'lord. But they took a great many of the cattle grazin' on the hill. Slaughtered the others. With most of the men yonder in the Gypsy valley, we couldn't stop 'em."

  John did not need to hear more. He lifted Muriella from the saddle and set her on the ground. Turning to Duncan, he called, "We'll get him this time. They can't have been gone long. Watch the girl, and whatever ye do, make certain she doesn't leave the keep again, ye hear?"

  Duncan nodded as Colin leaned from his horse's back to take the quiver of arrows a groom offered. When he sat up, he looked directly at Muriella. "For yer sake," he said.

  She winced, watching the riders hurry away. By the time she and the squire turned toward the keep, she had forced the sound of Colin's voice into the back of her mind where it could not hurt her. But when she ducked beneath the gate, Muriella felt her head begin to spin. She stopped with her hand at her throat. For an instant she thought she was lost in the mist again, that the world was retreating behind the concealing drifts of moisture. An unnatural stillness settled around her and she felt she was falling.