Highland Charm: First Fantasies

by April Holthaus

  Muriella looked away, breaking the stillness at last. "Do ye know where he's gone?" she asked.

  Bewildered by her desperation, Elizabeth shook her head. "Even when we were close, my brother didn't tell me his plans." At Muriella's look of disappointment, she rubbed her chin and tried to think. "But I heard Archibald say something—I believe Johnnie's gone after a man who has been giving him trouble for a long time. I'm afraid 'tis all I know."

  "Aye," Muriella said, "John told me he was going to meet an enemy. But he wouldn't say who."

  "Ye saw him today?" Elizabeth asked in surprise.

  "Just before dawn. I found him in the chamber where the weapons are kept. He was armed, the men were armed, but he wouldn't tell me why."

  Elizabeth frowned. "Why should that frighten ye? 'Tis no' unusual for men to keep their battles and their grudges to themselves. They don't think we care or understand about such things."

  "It frightens me because I saw the look on his face. 'Twas the look of a stranger, and his eyes—they were blind, as if I weren't there, as if there were nothing in the world but his own rage." Muriella shuddered at the memory of those cold, implacable eyes.

  Spreading her hands helplessly, Elizabeth said, "'Tis the way things are with Johnnie. 'Tis no' in his nature to feel anything halfway." She paused, choosing her words with care. "Mayhap he didn't tell ye more because he didn't want to upset ye."

  "Doesn't he realize the waiting, the uncertainty are the worst? Doesn't he see how hard it is to be left behind?"

  "Ye know he doesn't," Elizabeth murmured. "He's a man. How can he understand that the walls of the keep ring with silence when the men are gone? How can he when he's never heard the chilling stillness for himself? How can he understand the boredom of inaction when his life is all motion and danger and excitement?" Sighing in compassion, she said, "Ye mustn't ask the impossible of a man like Johnnie. He can't know what ye feel any more than ye can know what he feels. He won't change, my friend, and neither will ye. Ye'll be happier by far when ye come to accept that."

  Muriella could not argue with what she knew to be true, but that did not ease her dread. A hush fell and the two women stared at the dust motes dancing in streams of sunlight that fell through the wide solar windows. Finally, Elizabeth rose. "I must go now. My husband will be waiting."

  "Aye," Muriella breathed. Not until that moment did she realize how much she would miss the companionship she had shared with Elizabeth over the past few months.

  Elizabeth and Muriella faced each other, suddenly at a loss for words. Then Elizabeth whispered, "Ye'll come to visit me at Auchinbreck, won't ye? Soon?"

  "I'll come," Muriella told her. "And mayhap now ye won't be afraid to return to Kilchurn."

  "No," Elizabeth agreed. Her gray eyes steady, she met Muriella's gaze. "I think soon I'll find I'm not afraid of anything anymore."

  Her sister-in-law nodded mutely.

  Eyes damp with tears, Elizabeth and Muriella embraced one last time, while at their feet, the afternoon sun shone on the softly undulating waters of Loch Awe, frozen forever in a pattern of glowing silk and colored wool.

  Chapter 40

  The Great Hall was ablaze that night with a thousand candles. Most of the tables had been removed and the rushes dragged into the courtyard so the floor would be free for dancing. Muriella stood at the foot of the stairs, surveying the crowds of jeweled men and women who rotated before her. Until tonight, she had not believed there were that many jewels in all Scotland. She touched the pendant at her own throat. For the first time since the wedding over four years ago, she was wearing the golden flame that had been her gift from John.

  She had no trouble picking out Colin where he stood across the room. His doublet was of deep wine satin, his shirt was ivory, and he wore a jeweled belt at his waist. When he gestured, his hands were collections of colored flame in the candlelight. He had discarded his plaid for the evening and wore instead a burgundy velvet cloak. He was by far the most magnificent among the men, but Muriella was not impressed. She wanted to laugh at him. He was playing king and those who danced before him were his subjects.

  "So here ye are, my wife."

  Muriella started at the sound of John's voice. She had not known he had returned to the keep. Anxiously, she turned to find the furious stranger had gone. Her husband's eyes were clear, untarnished blue, the rigid lines of his face had softened, and his lips were curved in a pleased smile. He was dressed for the fete in a black doublet and trews, his plaid wrapped gracefully around his shoulders. The clothes were simple, but his dark looks were far more memorable than Colin's blond splendor. Muriella's heart began to beat unsteadily.

  "As ye can see, ye had nothing to fear," he said as he took her arm in a warm grasp.

  "Ye haven't been wounded?" his wife asked, examining his shirt and trews for the telltale bulk of a woven bandage.

  John's smile broadened and he drew her toward him with both hands cupped under her elbows. "Not even a scratch." Eyes sparkling, he brushed her cheek with the tips of his fingers. "I've missed ye," he said huskily, as if a week of frustration and loneliness had never come between them. "Will ye forgive me for my neglect?"

  Muriella trembled with pleasure and dread as her husband slid his arms around her back. She had missed him too—more than she'd realized. More, perhaps, than she could bear. John's hands were circling slowly over her back, bringing her skin to tingling life, and she made herself speak again before her courage burned away beneath his magic touch. "What happened today to change ye so much? This morning—"

  "This morning things were different," he interrupted. "Ye were right to think there was danger, but ye needn't concern yerself anymore." His voice was a mere whisper a breath away from her parted lips. "The danger has passed."

  Just for an instant, when his mouth met hers, he made her believe it. Muriella swayed toward him, sliding her hands up to his shoulders. She could feel the texture of his satin shirt, strangely cool beneath her heated palms. Her breasts brushed his chest, and even through the fabric of her gown, they ached for his touch. His lips caressed hers, gently at first, then more and more fiercely, until the stirring movement of his hands consumed Muriella’s doubts across her body. As he drew her closer, the wild yearning rose within her, warm and blinding and fearfully bright.

  "We'd best leave off, my little one, or I'm sorely afraid we'll disgrace ourselves before the guests." He pulled away from her, his cheeks were flushed, and the finger he ran along her cheek quivered just a little. "If we leave now, Colin won't ever cease his taunting, so we'll stay. But I'll come to ye later."

  "Aye," she said. There was no other answer she could give.

  "Since we must be here, we might as well enjoy the evening," John murmured. "Shall we have a dance or two?" When she nodded, he led her out onto the crowded floor.

  She was hardly aware of the laughing tilt and sway of the dancers around her, or of the magnificence of the many lights that had at last destroyed the chill in the cave-like hall. The warmth of John's fingers on her skin made her giddy. As she whirled in his arms, the candles and the flaming jewels seemed to merge into one gleaming, flickering mass of color. Her body rose and fell with the music; the lights danced magically before her eyes. Each time the intricate steps brought John near, she smiled, and each time his grip on her grew tighter. The song of the clareschaws was running through her blood; John's breath was brushing across her cheeks. She rotated rhythmically in the candlelight, her skirts swirling about her legs.

  When the harps fell silent, Muriella leaned against her husband while she steadied her breathing and her pulse began to slacken. After a moment, he looked down at her, smiling, and said softly, "I've been thinking that now 'tis safe again, 'tis time to go back to Cawdor."

  She blinked as if she had not heard him properly. "Ye don't mean—" Stopping in confusion, she tried to find the words to express her distress. "But 'tis barren there, and long abandoned. There're neither hangings on the walls nor rugs on the f
loors."

  John shook his head. "I've taken care of that. Ye'll find things have changed a great deal since yer last visit."

  Looking away, she murmured under her breath, "They couldn't have changed enough."

  "Muriella?" her husband asked. "What troubles ye?"

  She drew away from the shelter of his arm to meet his questioning gaze. "I don't think I can face Cawdor again. The memories are too strong."

  "Even now?" he whispered.

  She nodded. "Even now."

  Before he could respond, Colin appeared from among the weaving dancers, calling, "Johnnie, where've ye been hiding?" When John did not answer, the Earl reached out to grasp Muriella's free hand. "Ye wouldn't deny me a dance with yer wife, would ye? I've been waiting all evening." He did not stop to hear his brother's response, but pulled her toward an opening in the press of moving bodies.

  For a moment, John kept his hand on Muriella's, as if he would not let her go, but when he realized some of the guests were watching, he released her. Bowing with elaborate courtesy, he said, "As ye wish, Brother. But take care of her."

  Colin smiled as he faced his new partner. He had not missed the underlying threat in John's voice. However, his brother did not intend to pay John any mind. The Earl had found, at last, that he was bored with Jenny, and his eyes had begun to wander. He had not failed to notice that Muriella was magnificent tonight. She wore a deep blue velvet gown with satin ribbons, and as she rotated in the dance, the skirt parted in front, revealing her sky blue kirtle. Her auburn braids were wound around her head, with pale blue ribbons twined among them. At her throat the ruby glowed in its gold setting. Colin squeezed her fingers, and when she came near to circle with him, he moved his hand above her waist. "I was hoping Johnnie wouldn't return before dawn," he said. "Then I could've had ye all to myself."

  Muriella whirled away as the dance demanded, but when she faced him again, she said, "He wouldn't like to hear ye talk that way."

  "Do ye think I care what Johnnie likes? Ye forget that I'm the Earl. My brother is nothing."

  Muriella stiffened and took a step back. "Nothing," she said, "except my husband."

  Forcing himself to smile, Colin closed the space between them. "'Tis no' wise to scorn me, ye know. If I want ye, I shall have ye."

  "Ye sicken me," she said.

  "Do I?" His voice was cool but she felt the rage underneath. "I suppose ye prefer my little brother."

  She faced him squarely. "Aye."

  "Then ye're a fool," he hissed. "He's more interested in hunting down his enemies and making them cry for mercy than in visiting yer chamber. He knows, no doubt, what he'll find in yer bed, but out there, with a sword in his hand, my brother plays a game he thinks he can't lose. Or hadn't ye noticed his gloating smile tonight?"

  Muriella withdrew her hands from Colin's grasp. "What do ye mean?"

  "Didn't he tell ye? I'd have thought he'd be bragging about his triumph to anyone who'd listen. Ye see," he said in an exaggerated whisper, "The Devil Afire will burn no more."

  Muriella regarded the Earl curiously. She had heard the name before but could not remember where.

  Colin saw her confusion and leaned forward until she could not escape the cold gleam of his eyes. "Surely ye know of the one they call The Devil Afire? 'Tis the outlaw, Hugh Rose. Or at least, 'twas till today, when Johnnie killed him."

  The foreboding was with Muriella again, so all-enveloping it took her breath away. "Ye're lying," she choked.

  "No, my blind little fool, 'tis the truth. Haven't ye realized yet that Johnnie's determined to make certain there's no one left to challenge his right to Cawdor?" The Earl smiled when he saw the color fade from Muriella's cheeks. "Hugh Rose was in his way—and now he's dead."

  The room began to spin as Colin drew her back into the dance. When she bent her head, the sound of John's voice came to her like a grim, distant warning. There's something I have to do. Something that can't wait any longer. She circled and bowed, skipped and turned, but all the while her husband's furious image was before her. Why had he never answered her questions?

  With a start, Muriella realized Colin was leading her off the floor toward the place where John waited. For a moment she thought she could not face him, then a rush of bright anger restored her courage.

  "Muriella?" her husband asked, disturbed by the strange flush of color on her cheeks.

  "I would speak to ye privately," she said.

  Eyes narrowed, he regarded her in silence for a moment before taking her arm. "As ye wish."

  Together they climbed the stairs without a word. When they reached the top, John drew Muriella into a hollowed niche in the thick stone wall. "Well?"

  The curve of the passageway blocked the torchlight. Muriella looked up at her husband, noting the way the shadows clung about him, darkening his face and disguising the expression in his eyes. "Where were ye going when I found ye this morning?" she demanded.

  John stiffened, his fingers closing more tightly around her arm. "Have a care for the way ye ask yer questions," he warned. "Mayhap the answers won't please ye." When she continued to stare at him, unblinking, he frowned. "As I told ye then, I was on my way to meet an enemy."

  With an effort, Muriella kept her voice steady. "'Twas my cousin Hugh, wasn't it?"

  For a moment, her husband was shocked out of his anger. "How did ye know?" Then he remembered the smug grin with which Colin had relinquished Muriella. John clenched his free hand into a fist that made his arm ache to the shoulder. "Aye," he said.

  Muriella could not breathe, but fought to make herself go on. "Ye killed him, didn't ye?"

  Cursing his brother under his breath, John put his hands on his wife's shoulders. He had not meant for her to find out this way, had never meant for her to know what Hugh Rose had become. "Listen to me—," he began.

  "Is it true?" she cried. "Just tell me if 'tis true."

  "Aye," he said in resignation. "I killed him."

  "Why?" she asked. Seeking support for the weakness in her knees, she pressed one hand against the stone.

  "Because," John told her softly, "he was an evil man."

  "No!" She looked away and covered her ears with her hands. "I won't listen."

  Forcing her hands away from her head, her husband said, "Ye asked for the truth and now ye'll hear it. Hugh Rose was a thief and a murderer who didn't deserve to live anymore. I only destroyed him before he could destroy me."

  Muriella closed her eyes. It seemed that killing Hugh was not enough for John; he wanted to kill her memories too. She saw again the blackened face that had haunted her dream. She had thought it was the image of some ghastly stranger, but now she understood; the leering mockery of a face had been her cousin's death mask. Suppressing a single, anguished cry, she turned away from her husband.

  "Where are ye going?" he demanded.

  "To my chamber. I've lost a childhood friend tonight. Mayhap ye'll allow me a moment to grieve alone." Sensing he would not try to stop her, she slipped past him to disappear down the narrow, twisting passageway.

  She did not see Duncan stop as she passed and turn to stare after her in dismay. He cried out once, "M'lady!" but she did not even hear him.

  * * *

  "Well, what's so important it couldn't wait till morning?" Colin asked in impatience as he faced his brother across the crowded library. "My guests are waiting, ye ken."

  John sat on the edge of the desk, clutching the wood with unnecessary force. "Ye've been meddling in my business again."

  The Earl noted with misgiving the gleam in his brother's eye. Maybe he had gone too far this time. "What business? Make yerself clear, man."

  "I'm talking of Muriella, as ye damned well know! What did ye say to her?"

  Colin's smile was mocking. "I merely mentioned that she was looking particularly lovely tonight. I'm afraid she doesn't take compliments well."

  "So ye were angry when she didn't fall for yer charm, and decided to get back at her, is that it?"


  The Earl laughed uneasily. "I don't know what ye mean."

  Releasing the desk and flexing his hands to stop the tingling in his fingers, John took a step toward his brother. "I think ye do. Now tell me, damn ye, what did ye say?"

  Colin tried to think of the wisest answer, then with a shrug, decided to tell the truth. "I told Muriella ye'd gotten what ye wanted from her and left her for the pleasure of the hunt, with Hugh Rose as the prey."

  John gasped in disbelief. When he caught his breath again, he had to fight to control the rage that left him shaking. "I knew ye were low, but—"

  Smiling crookedly, Colin regarded his brother in unconcern. "Don't try to abuse me just because ye aren't man enough to keep her happy, Johnnie. 'Tis no' my fault."

  In an instant, John closed the space between them, grasping his brother's doublet in his hands. The fury boiled in him, clamoring to be released. "I warned ye before to leave her alone, ye bastard."

  "'Tis no' me who's the bastard, and well ye know it. I've heard they don't have real feelings like other people. I just thought I'd see for myself."

  At Colin's bland smile, John's control finally snapped. He released his brother and, with all his strength, slammed his fist into Colin’s jaw. The third Earl of Argyll, staggered briefly, then slumped to the floor, unconscious.

  Chapter 41

  Once she had left her husband behind, Muriella ran without stopping until her chamber door was closed and the bolt slid into place. The fire had died down, so the chamber was cold, but she did not revive the flames. Collecting several candles from around the room, she lit each from the torch and set them in a circle she had cleared on the floor. Numb with shock, she sank to the stone with the candles as a wall of fluttering light around her. They seemed to isolate her from the people and music and laughter that swept through the keep beyond her door. Feebly, the flames attempted to push back the gloom to the corners of the room.