The Hiring Fair

by Laura Strickland

  With all the things she knew, did she know she owned his heart? Nay, for fool that he was he had failed to tell her, not even when he held her in his arms.

  Fresh memories found him then: the first time they had kissed, the warmth of it like homecoming, the power of it like flame. The first time she’d welcomed him to her bed, taking his ruined hand into her hands, taking his ruined life, as well…and every smile, every word, each exchanged glance since then…

  He lay sore and hurting and relived it all, exquisite torture and comfort combined.

  The woman possessed magic, far more than she knew. Enough to reunite them?

  His heart said aye, his reason argued nay. Then, outside his narrow window, he heard the call of a crow, sharp and persistent, speaking to him—calling up his courage and his faith.

  There alone, wrapped in despair, he smiled.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Annie lit the candles one by one, each at a cardinal point in the circle: east, south, west, and north. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, envisioning the circle of protection that linked the flames and surrounded her.

  White magic. She’d been raised on it and believed in it to the very root of her soul. Her connection to this power that flowed from the earth and through every element in her world was fundamental to her existence, and she invoked those powers every time she whispered a prayer or prepared a charm on someone’s behalf.

  Yet never before had she asked anything for herself. Oh, aye, she had sued for strength when she needed it, especially after the losses of her mother and uncle. She’d asked for wisdom, the ability to alleviate pain, for endurance, and a solution to the problem Ned Randleigh represented. She’d begged for courage when she climbed onto the platform at the hiring fair.

  Now, though, she came asking for Tam Sutherland, whom she needed desperately.

  How had the man got so deep inside of her? She who had never expected to give her heart, having seen all the inherent perils too clearly, had lost that to him even before her maidenhead.

  Now, part of her remained with him, languished in his prison even as the rest of her reached wildly for any available means to help him—including magic.

  Aye, but she needed to keep her motives pure. Such powers demanded the strictest ethics, so her mother had taught. Any ill will led one down a perilous path into darkness.

  But sitting here within the circle of light she found it harder than ever before to separate her intentions and her desires.

  Outside, the evening drew down swiftly, dusk falling like a black cloak. On the morrow, the physician would return; on the morrow, if she meant to bargain for Tam’s freedom, she would have to deliver her answer to Ned Randleigh.

  Her whole being ached for Tam, for the sight of his smile, the sound of his voice at her ear in the dark. She craved his kiss and the way they’d laughed together. The sensation of his skin beneath her lips, the surging strength of him when he entered her.

  Man and woman, a complete circle just like this circle in which she sat. And when love was involved, every bit as sacred.

  How dared Randleigh suppose he could sully that, demand her body as the price of her love? Anger flared again and chased the clear serenity she needed to accomplish her goal. For she must have help; she simply could not do this alone.

  Again she fought down her emotions and reached out with her mind. Sol, sensing her turmoil, fluttered his wings as if he would fly off out the window. Yet, very like a guardian, he remained.

  I call upon the powers of the air, the fire, the water, and the earth to aid me this night. I need to win my Tam free and defeat Ned Randleigh.

  Just reciting Randleigh’s name threatened to destroy her concentration. Very rarely did she allow herself to taste the power of hatred; its intensity shocked her now. Yet when she thought on the things Randleigh had done, and all the harm he wished to do, she longed for him to hurt in turn.

  Aye then, she’d best be honest about it: for the first time ever in her life she had entered the sacred circle wishing to do harm.

  The desire, opposed to everything she knew about white magic, nevertheless possessed her, a direct opposite to how she always sought to live her life—and gloriously seductive.

  She bowed her head beneath the terrifying weight of it and whispered, “Help me.”

  “Annie.”

  Her mother’s voice. Shock raced through her like a drench of cold water, and she raised her head; her eyes flew open.

  Her mother sat across from her, inside the circle of light, eyes steady and hands folded.

  Annie gasped. To be sure, she’d often felt her mother’s presence since her death, had caught hints of her laughter or her words on the wind. Morag MacCallum existed in every part of Annie’s life. And Annie had encountered her in dreams.

  But this was no dream; now she came in truth, looking just as she had before she died, her black hair, well streaked with white, confined in a braid down her back. Quick, clever features too sharp to be considered bonny yet holding a rare beauty. Bright hazel eyes that brimmed with wisdom. Relief and wonder kicked through Annie powerfully.

  “Mother.”

  “Child.”

  “How is it you are here?”

  “Your need has brought me. I come in love and warning.”

  Sol flapped his wings violently and arose from his perch. Both women watched as he circled the room, the air from his wings making the candles flicker. He flew through Morag’s image and fluttered out the window.

  “All my protectors have abandoned me,” Annie said wryly and not without bitterness. “Uncle Dennis, you—now even Sol.”

  “Sol has but gone to watch the road. He will warn us if anyone approaches.” Morag’s eyebrow quirked even as it had in life. “And I am here, am I not? Do you call that abandonment?”

  Annie struggled for breath. “How long can you stay?” She wanted her mother back forever. “It is so hard struggling on wi’out you.”

  Morag smiled. “I am always here, child. But ’tis time for you to walk your own path. Nothing stays the same; the seasons follow each other, and day follows night. So you shall take up your power and follow me.”

  “Mother, everything I ha’ attempted has crashed down around me. Tell me what I am to do about Ned Randleigh—about Tam.”

  “Use the strength that lies within you. Embrace it, live it. Trust it.”

  “The strength?” Annie felt very little strength at the moment. “You mean, the magic? Mother, do you speak of the power that always awaits beyond the light, the dark half of what you have taught me to use? That which tempts me even now?”

  “Daughter, is that the course you contemplate?”

  “The power exists, I can feel it just beyond the barriers I have raised against it—those you taught me to erect.” Annie licked her lips. “I need only stretch out my mind and seize it.”

  “Not your mind, Annie, but your soul. At present, your spirit remains untainted and burns with a pure flame. I can see that from where I stand. What have I taught you about dark power? It comes at a price and steals even as it gives.”

  “So does the ‘mercy’ Ned Randleigh offers,” Annie said. “And I know no other way to defeat him. Mother, I have never in my life caused harm to anyone. But in my heart…in my heart I believe Ned Randleigh deserves to suffer harm.”

  “Unquestionably.”

  Annie leaned forward and eyed her mother earnestly. “So then perhaps I should seize this power and use it to serve him as he has coming.”

  For a moment, Morag did not respond. Her sharp features tightened, and her eyes filled with sorrow. All the candles in the room dimmed at once, as if a cold breath passed over them.

  “So,” Morag said then, “you would be the instrument for Ned Randleigh’s just punishment, would you?”

  “I would return to him what he has put out into the world—his cruelty to Kirstie, to Jockie, to Tam…” Her voice wavered when she spoke her husband’s name. “To all the folk under his heel
. What other choice have I?”

  Morag answered the question with another. “Have I not bidden you to trust? Trust is no easy matter, not when trouble comes and fear takes up residence in the heart. But it maun follow true belief. Remember what I have taught you about the rules by which a white witch lives.”

  “Do no harm. And—and whatever we put out into the world will return to us, times three.”

  “Do you not believe this?”

  “I do.”

  “Then, Daughter, have faith. As I ha’ told you, trust.”

  “But I do no’ see—”

  “You do no’ have to see. Faith does not require you seeing—only believing.”

  Tears flooded Annie’s eyes. “Then I find that perhaps I do no’ believe after all, no’ the way I should. For when I think of Tam, doubt possesses my heart. It has been hard, Mother—so hard wi’ you gone, a heavy load carrying what you bore so easily.”

  “Did you suppose it easy for me, after your father died? ’Twas a long walk, Daughter, down a narrow path alone. But, as you will find, there is strength won in each step. And you maun look on my passing as an opportunity.”

  “An opportunity!”

  “Aye, for had I not moved on, you would have kept following me and would no’ have needed to take those steps on your own. You would no’ have gone to the hiring fair; you would never ha’ met Tam Sutherland.”

  Annie closed her eyes on a rush of pain. “Mother…”

  “Do you no’ see, Annie, this is your time, and a privilege for you to find your way? It may no’ be the same as my way, so stop wi’ trying to be me. Be the woman you were born to become. And in doing that, Daughter, I bid you again, keep your heart pure. Do not succumb to the lure of the darkness.”

  Annie drew a breath. “But if I did use that power—Mother, tell me true; would I then be able to defeat Ned Randleigh? Could I free Tam?” For she cared much less about her own welfare than his.

  “Perhaps so. But remember, the greatest threat Ned Randleigh represents is to your spirit.”

  Morag leaned forward, and Annie felt the merest brush of her mother’s fingers on her brow. “Go with the light, Daughter,” she whispered, and dissolved into the air.

  Annie bowed her head and wept.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The lock on Tam’s prison rattled, and the door creaked open abruptly. He struggled to his feet.

  “Out,” Ned Randleigh said.

  The man wore a sour expression and carried a firearm, which he waved in Tam’s direction. In the hallway beyond lurked two of his henchmen, putting paid to any hope Tam might harbor for escape.

  He hesitated a moment. “Where are you taking me?”

  Randleigh’s cold eyes swept over him. “Your wife has returned with the physician.”

  Tam’s heart leaped, and he went forward willingly. The men bullied him down several corridors to what must be the parlor, a large room filled with gloomy morning light. Outside the tall windows it rained, a true Highland rain that sluiced down the glass panes and pounded the ground.

  Tam barely noticed, for Annie stood clad all in her green cloak and dress, now darkened with wet, and the physician, Camden, beside her.

  Yet another man was present as well, seated behind a broad table, a heavyset fellow wearing a deep frown.

  “Tam.” Annie started forward to him, her dark gaze touching him avidly. “Husband, how are you?”

  To be certain, Tam scarcely knew; pain and anger—and the longing for her—had taken such a toll on him he barely recognized himself.

  And Annie, his Annie, did not look well. Agony filled her eyes, her face white with strain, and she’d clearly been crying. He ached to take her in his arms.

  Instead he asked, very low, “Who is that man?”

  In a whisper, she replied, “The magistrate, Master Belfour. Not the man Randleigh expected. We ha’ some hope…”

  “Enough!” Randleigh declared. “Let Master Camden do his work. I would delay the magistrate no longer than necessary.”

  “I am eager to go nowhere in this downpour,” said the heavyset man easily. “Please, Master Camden, take your time.”

  “Thank you, Master Belfour.” The physician approached Tam and separated him from his guards the way a collie might nose a lamb from the flock. “Let us see how you are healing.”

  He examined Tam’s swollen and splinted hand, and the stripe across his face, as well. His eyes, which measured Tam’s general condition, contained a measure of compassion.

  “Tell me, Master Sutherland, how have you been treated here in your imprisonment?”

  Tam had to choke back his rage before he could speak. “Sir, the care you provided last time you were here is all I ha’ seen.”

  “Have you been provided food and sufficient water? You appear to be deficient in both.”

  “One meal and one cup of water a day.”

  Randleigh blustered, “The man is a prisoner. I refuse to coddle him.”

  “Still,” the magistrate said weightily, “there is a moral principle here, surely. Tell me, Sutherland, how did you sustain those injuries?”

  “Sir, as befits my hand, the original injury occurred last winter. In the time since I married my wife, it improved markedly. These recent injuries you see were inflicted by the factor, Ned Randleigh.”

  The magistrate lifted his brows. “How is that?”

  Tam met Belfour’s gaze levelly. “When I was taken into custody, Ned Randleigh crushed my hand beneath his boot, causing this injury you see.”

  Randleigh began to bristle, but the magistrate held up his hand, gaze never wavering from Tam’s. “And that slash across your face?”

  “A blow from Ned Randleigh also.”

  Belfour looked at the physician.

  “Three broken fingers,” Camden contributed, “and undoubted ligament damage. Only by a mercy did the blow to the face miss blinding him.”

  Belfour looked at Randleigh then. “What have you to say, sir, to these accusations?”

  Randleigh blustered, “I am not on trial here. The man attacked me and had to be subdued. His hand may well have been injured in the struggle. The rest is all exaggeration.”

  Doggedly, Camden said, “The prisoner was then provided no care until his wife sent for me.”

  Belfour’s frown deepened still further; he shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Master Randleigh, I cannot think this proper handling of the situation. What have you to say?”

  Randleigh drew himself up. “Master Belfour, it is much fuss about nothing. You and I both know these sorts of people are little better than animals—”

  “So you would treat an animal thus, would you? Where is your moral sense?”

  Annie exchanged a look with Tam, and he saw hope fill her eyes. Master Belfour, it seemed, was not in Ned Randleigh’s pocket. Had they a chance after all?

  “Sir,” Randleigh said coldly, “Laird Ardaugh has laid upon me the charge of overseeing his estate. I will do whatever I must to protect his interests. It is not wise to allow these tenants any leeway, or they tend to take grievous advantage.”

  “This man took advantage of you, did he?” Belfour asked and ran his gaze up and down Tam. “It does not look it.”

  “He attacked me, his better,” Randleigh snarled.

  “Tell him why.” Head high and black eyes snapping, Annie spoke for the first time.

  “It does not matter why. He is a subordinate—”

  “’Tis what it all comes to in your sight, is it no’?” Annie challenged. “You feel everyone on Laird Ardaugh’s land is beneath you, and yours to abuse as you will.”

  “Abuse?” Belfour picked up on the word. “Master Randleigh, this woman appears to be educated and of good birth. Of what abuse does she accuse you?”

  Randleigh, looking suddenly uncertain, shook his head.

  Annie stepped toward the table, and appealed earnestly, “Master Belfour, if I may be permitted to speak?”

  “I think you sho
uld.”

  “Our Laird Ardaugh MacCallum has been long away and left his factor to manage the estate. ’Tis a common enough practice these days in the Highlands, I ken. But Master Randleigh has held the threat of clearance over our heads these past two years. He collects the rents and, if a woman canno’ pay, demands something other than coin.”

  Belfour started and flushed red. “What is this you say?”

  Annie lifted her head and directed a measured look at Randleigh. “He bargains for the woman’s favors, sir, in exchange for leave to stay in her home.”

  “An ugly assertion.”

  “It is, sir.”

  Belfour turned his eyes on Randleigh who, in contrast to the magistrate, stood white with anger. “What do you say to this charge?”

  “Spiteful and unfounded! This woman is entirely unreliable, Master Belfour, and would say anything in order to win her husband free. Why, you have no idea what she is or her standing in the district. You cannot expect truth from her; she is the local witch!”

  Annie flinched visibly at the word; Tam stepped forward to her side protectively.

  “That is a lie,” he told Belfour. “My wife has some skill at healing—’tis what caused the improvement to my hand. But Randleigh has no call to go hurling such an accusation.”

  “She wreaks spells and distributes potions,” Randleigh snapped in a vicious tone. “What else would you call her?”

  “Compassionate,” Tam returned swiftly. “A quality wi’ which you ha’ no acquaintance.”

  Annie lifted her head still higher. “If I be a witch, Master Randleigh, why did you threaten me and press so hard, before my marriage, for favors I was unwilling to give? This,” she added to Belfour, “he should be afraid to do, did I possess dark powers.”

  Belfour returned his stare to Randleigh. “Is this true? Did you press this woman as she says?”

  “Absolutely not. There is no proof. And it has no bearing on the matter at hand.”

  “Och, but I think it does,” Tam said, “for you claim I attacked you. I was in fact attempting to protect another such woman, Master Belfour, and to get between the factor and her companion—a young man the factor had already thrashed within an inch o’ his life and meant to harm again.”