True Love Brides 02 - The Highlander’s Curse

by Claire Delacroix

  “The tracks will be fading by the time they arrive. They will assume you continued on this course.”

  “But I will not,” Annelise guessed and Garrett smiled. He took the reins and led Yseult into the cover of the forest. If he followed a path, Annelise could not discern it. Yseult, for all her dislike of darkness, evidently trusted Garrett. She snorted only once and tossed her head, but she did allow Garrett to lead her into the shadowed forest. She was more accommodating than Annelise ever remembered.

  Could he hear a horse’s thoughts, as well? Was that how he knew how best to soothe her?

  Annelise had a thousand questions, but before she could utter a word, Garrett glanced up at her and touched his fingertip to his lips. Annelise understood that they were already pursued.

  She never would have guessed as much without his warning. It was peaceful in the forest and good to be out of the full assault of the rain. The canopy of leaves overhead sheltered them from the downfall, turning it from a torrent to a sprinkle. Annelise pushed back her hood and wiped the rain from her face. She was uncommonly relieved that Garrett had found her and trusted him to ensure her welfare. For his part, Garrett moved quickly and quietly, clearly intent on some destination. They continued in silence and shadow, and Annelise could have believed that time had stopped—or that they were the only souls in all of Scotland.

  Much later, Garrett led Yseult back toward the road. Annelise knew he had led them westward in an arching path, and she guessed that they stood well to the west of Seton Manor. This section of the road did not look familiar to her, and it was more steeply sloped. Garrett stood on the lip of the road for the longest time, apparently listening.

  Annelise could see that the sky was becoming lighter in the east. The rain had slowed to a steady grey drizzle and the clouds were turning to pale silver overhead. She shivered inside her wet clothing, knowing this would be a long and chilly day. Being cold was naught, though, at least not in comparison to being raped and claimed by Orson. The recollection of his intent made her shudder.

  She glanced up to find Garrett watching her with concern. “You are cold,” he said. He used a fallen tree as a mounting block and swung into the saddle behind her. “I would ride all this day, though, with your permission, for I would have more distance behind us.”

  Annelise nodded, even as his warmth touched her back. She nestled against him instinctively and he wrapped one arm around her waist. Garrett clicked to Yseult, guiding her on to the road and letting her find her own pace. The road climbed steadily up into the Highlands, a steeper road than the one Annelise had taken down from Seton Manor. She had the sense that this one curled farther to the north.

  “I promise you a fire and a meal this night, my lady.”

  “You sound as if you have a destination in mind.”

  “I do.”

  “Will you tell me of it?”

  Garrett shook his head. “I cannot confide in you, for the truth would put you in peril.”

  Annelise studied him, making no effort to hide her dissatisfaction with this plan. “I have so many questions!”

  “But you do not know the price of asking them.” His fingertip fell to her lips and his gaze was deadly serious. “Do not ask, my lady. I beg this of you.”

  “You said I might guess,” Annelise replied and he fought against a smile.

  “So long as you do not mind whether I confirm or deny your accuracy.”

  Annelise pursed her lips. “I would be a part of any effort to create our future,” she said. “Will you tell me of your plan?”

  Garrett frowned for a moment, considering her request, then shook his head. “There is too much at risk.”

  “Aye, there is!” Annelise declared, for she had had enough of his mystery. “For I shall not go without some measure of the truth.”

  “I explained this, Annelise. Confidence has a price and I would not see you pay it.”

  “You cannot imagine that our match will proceed well if there is not trust between us.”

  “I trust you!”

  “Then tell me.”

  “Annelise, that is not the root of the matter. The telling could have dire consequences…”

  “I do not care. I insist upon knowing.”

  He eyed her, his concern clear. “What if I tell you a story?”

  “Not like the one I heard last night,” Annelise said. “I disliked the ending of it very much.”

  “The two tales have much in common, actually. This is a tale my mother told me.” Garrett gave Annelise an intent look and Annelise understood that there would be truth buried within it. “She had a great talent with telling a tale.”

  “Then tell me of it, please,” Annelise said.

  And Garrett did.

  *

  Stewart was displeased.

  Though it was not in his nature to be merry all the time, on this particular morning, the warrior was more sour than was his wont. He knew that Murdoch had few choices before him, and that his laird’s resources were stretched thin.

  But still.

  Stewart rode in darkness and rain, his steed slogging through mud and mire, in the company of the most offensive man he had encountered in years, on a quest that he believed to be misconstrued. It was an abominable waste of a good night’s sleep. He was soaked to the skin and colder than he had been in years, but he held his tongue and rode.

  Stewart had disliked from the first that a pair of knights had arrived without announcement at Seton Manor. He did not care for the addition of armed men whose alliances were unknown within the walls of the holding. Seton Manor was small and peaceful, but those sworn to it relied upon the laird’s protection. Given the nature of the holding, there were few men at arms in Murdoch’s employ, fewer still in this particular summer. The king’s court held an unholy allure for men whose blades could be bought, and many had ridden to Edinburgh to pledge their loyalty to the new king.

  Whether they had permission to do so, or nay.

  Orson and Andrew arrived at Seton Manor when defenses were low, and Stewart distrusted that. He was not a man to believe in coincidence or the intervention of the Fates. He did, however, believe in the scheming of men. That these two sounded so different from each other was also troubling. How could one have an accent of the English courts, while the other endeavored to hide his accent? That Orson should sound of London made sense, given his surname, for the Douglas family spent much time in the south. But why did Andrew’s Gaelic cadence appear and disappear? It was almost as if the knight wished to hide his origins, which was no credit to him in Stewart’s mind. How did they know each other? There had been no mention of alliance or common relations, which fed Stewart’s suspicions.

  Plus how many men of the Highlands trained for their spurs? Stewart was certain he knew of all of them, but he did not know this Andrew. The knight’s tale reminded Stewart of something, a tale he had heard long ago and which lingered just out of memory’s grasp in a most frustrating way.

  Now, he rode in the dark and the rain, accompanying Orson in pursuit of Annelise, his presence at Murdoch’s dictate. Though it was good for one of them to keep an eye on this knight, Stewart still was not content. Why had Andrew not accompanied his fellow knight? It was troubling to leave an armed man at Seton Manor, with one less blade—his own—prepared to take Murdoch’s side.

  Worse, Stewart did not like Orson. The knight was assertive and domineering, a trait common to knights but seldom present in such vigor as it was with this man. Orson seemed to care only for his own objective, and Stewart believed that if this man had to choose between his vows and his desire, lust would carry the day. That the squire flinched whenever the knight simply glanced his way told much of the knight’s nature, in Stewart’s view. That Orson had borrowed Murdoch’s trap to ride in pursuit of Annelise with all speed was as salt in the wound. Stewart doubted Murdoch would see his harness again, for Orson was the manner of man to conveniently overlook all debts to others.

  Orson would die y
oung with a knife in his back, in Stewart’s view, and rightly so.

  Which made him no good candidate for Lady Annelise’s hand.

  Finally, this claim of Orson’s irked Stewart mightily. Stewart did not believe that the hunter would abduct Annelise. Such violent intent did not seem to be in his nature. He did not know the malady that plagued the hunter who had come to the gates, much less how it could be cured, but he had seen the lady Annelise’s concern for him. He had watched as that man had struggled with his ailment to appear at the board, and Stewart believed that Garrett did not wish to disappoint the lady he admired. This was a good impulse, in his view, and one of promise.

  It was also inconsistent with the notion that Garrett had stolen Annelise forcibly away. Stewart suspected that Orson had embellished the truth or lied outright, for the lady’s glances gave him cause to believe that she would have left willingly with the hunter.

  What had Orson seen in the stables?

  What had he done?

  Most importantly, was the lady Annelise safe from harm?

  Stewart pulled his steed to a halt, even as the first light tinged the sky ahead of them. He dismounted and checked the road, dissatisfied with what he saw.

  Orson rode back toward him, his destrier stepping high as the knight pulled hard on the reins. Perhaps he would die with a hoof print on his back, Stewart considered, or bitten by a steed much abused. The stallion was unhappy with his situation, it was clear, and looked feisty enough to take action upon it.

  “Why do you stop?” the knight demanded. “Must I leave you behind? Can you not see that time is of the essence in this matter?”

  “I see no sign that any horse has ridden this road of late.”

  Orson rolled his eyes and shook his head. “They said they rode for Kinfairlie, which lies in this direction. Percy! Is that not so?”

  “Aye, my lord.”

  “So, return to your saddle. We ride, lest we arrive too late!”

  Stewart considered the knight, even as the destrier pranced in place. “You are much concerned. Is your suit so ill-favored that you believe the Laird of Kinfairlie will wed his sister to a hunter with no coin?”

  Orson leaned down, his eyes blazing. “He will rape her and force the laird’s hand. If we pursue them hotly, he will have no chance to do as much. I hasten for the sake of Annelise!”

  Percy developed a fascination with his reins, dropping his gaze so quickly that Stewart wondered at the reason. He walked to the boy and put a hand on his palfrey’s pommel. “Is that what you fear, Percy?”

  The boy flicked a glance at him, then to the listening knight. “I fear for the lady’s welfare, sir.”

  “Why, Percy? What did you see?”

  The boy’s agitation increased but he stared fixedly at his hands.

  “Tell him, Percy,” the knight commanded.

  The boy flushed and Stewart knew he would tell only part of the truth. “The lady was nearly abused, before my very eyes.”

  “But someone intervened,” Stewart guessed.

  The boy nodded eagerly.

  “How fortunate that I was there,” Orson declared. Percy cast his knight a quick glance of such loathing that Stewart guessed the truth. Orson missed this look, so busy was he admiring his gauntlets. “The lady owes much to me, that is clear, and I can only hope her brother sees fit to reward me. Now, mount your steed, Stewart. Time is wasting!”

  “They rode the other way,” Stewart said softly.

  “You cannot know this,” Orson protested. “They would ride for Kinfairlie…”

  “Why? If you are such an inevitable choice of spouse as to expect the approval of Alexander of Kinfairlie, why would the hunter take the lady to her family abode? Why would a man who evidently dislikes the company of others ride south, where the lands are more populous? Kinfairlie is a considerable holding and a populous one. Why would he make haste to go there?”

  “Perhaps the inducement is worth the inconvenience,” Orson said tightly. “But doubtless you believe he did otherwise.”

  “He is a man of the forest. He would be more likely to take to the woods and hide her from all of us, at least until his claim was secured.” Stewart nodded at his own rationale. “He might take her to a refuge he knows well, a place where he feels secure.”

  “You speculate and your speculation costs us time…”

  “They rode the other way,” Stewart said with finality. “I will return to the last place I saw signs of Yseult and look again, more diligently. There was a fork in the road just before that place. I do not doubt they took to the forest to return to the other road.” He swung into his saddle. His concern for Annelise overwhelmed any possibility that Orson might accompany him. Indeed, Stewart believed the knight would take the easier route and continue to the south.

  “You may ride as you wish, but I will seek the lady.” He did not wait for Orson’s decision, for truly, it would suit him well for the knight to continue to Kinfairlie. Stewart would prefer to be left to follow Lady Annelise himself, knowing there was one less knight in the environs of Seton Manor.

  But that was not to be. His horse had not cantered a dozen steps before he heard the knight swear before barking a command at Percy.

  Then the sound of two horses riding through the muddy road echoed behind him. Stewart did not care. He was too busy scanning the growth on either side of the road for signs of a horse’s passing.

  He alone of the three was not surprised when he found it.

  *

  Garrett chose his words with care. Mhairi’s warning was clear in his mind. He appreciated that Annelise was curious and did not wish to have any secrets from her. The problem was that he was not certain how much of his truth he could tell her, not without putting her in danger. But Annelise was no fool: she had already guessed the nature of his curse, and perhaps she might guess the rest if he told his tale correctly.

  He took care to mention naught of the Fae, their role or their powers.

  He cleared his throat. “Once there was a noble warrior who won himself a holding through his valiant service to a king. This holding was in France, in the enchanted forest of Broceliande, although the knight did not believe the tales told of that place. As in the tale we heard last night, the men in this area prided themselves upon hunting wolves. When they killed a wolf, they roasted and ate its heart, for this was their tradition. This knight hunted a wolf, but he did so in the forest of Broceliande. He came upon a silver lady singing in the moonlight, as well, and lost his heart to her.”

  “There is much similarity between the tales,” Annelise said when Garrett paused.

  “Indeed.”

  “Was the lady a Fae, as well, and one who could become a white wolf when she so chose?”

  “That detail was not included in my mother’s tale,” Garrett said with care. “She said only that the lady’s song utterly beguiled the knight, and that he could not rest until he had won her as his wife.”

  “Because she was Fae,” Annelise said with resolve. “And there was sorcery in her song.”

  Garrett neither agreed nor disagreed. “When the knight courted her, she asked him to promise to never to look upon her at the full moon. When he made that pledge, she agreed to wed him.”

  “And so they were wed, as in the other tale.”

  “There was a healer in the knight’s abode who desired him to be her own husband.”

  “As in the other.”

  “But this healer had a daughter of her own. She wanted her daughter to be raised as a nobleman’s daughter, with every advantage and an inheritance besides. She had believed that she might win a place as the knight’s wife, for the healer was beautiful and the knight had looked upon her with favor. But once he had heard the lady sing in the forest, he forgot all about the healer and her charms.”

  “Because he was enchanted by a Fae,” Annelise murmured.

  Garrett shook his head. “I believe he was in love, not that the lady with the splendid voice enchanted him.”


  Annelise smiled at that.

  “And so, the knight brought home his lady and wedded her with great ceremony, and kept his pledge that he would never seek her companionship at the full moon. He thought little of this, for he did not believe in the Fae. He thought only that his wife had need of a measure of privacy. One night per month was a small concession in his view, for he wished his lady to be happy.”

  “I like his ability to compromise,” Annelise said.

  “The healer saw all of this and did not approve. Her heart became darker as her jealousy grew. She took note of every gift the knight gave to his lady and every courtesy he showed her, convincing herself that the lady had stolen all of this from her. The healer knew much of the lore of herbs and resolved to use her knowledge to aid her cause. When the knight’s mother spoke against the new bride, the healer seized her moment. The knight’s mother had believed that no woman would be of sufficient merit for her son, so the knight encouraged his mother to come to know his wife better. He knew her well enough to understand that her view would change in time. The healer also guessed this, so acted quickly. She provoked the mother to speak out in the hall, then gave her a potion that would make her ill. When the mother retired to her chamber, the healer would have had the new wife deliver the supposed antidote. The lady, though, refused to touch it.”

  “For she could read the healer’s thoughts,” Annelise said with satisfaction and Garrett was proud of her perceptiveness. “She knew it was poison.”

  “But the healer lied. She took the potion to the knight’s mother and loudly declared that the lady had given her the formula. She gave much credit to the lady for her generosity and confessed her lack of knowledge of these herbs. When the mother died, the healer did not have to accuse the new bride of killing her. Others were prepared to do so. There were some who distrusted the healer and others who turned against the knight’s lady, but the knight stood true by his lady wife.”

  “I like also that his love was true,” Annelise said.

  “The healer was most vexed in her failure to see the knight’s new lady condemned by all. When the knight’s wife ripened with child, the healer feared her daughter would be cheated of opportunity before it had been gained. She contrived to be the midwife at the child’s birth, and the knight agreed, for her skill in such matters was well known. The lady protested, but the knight insisted that he knew best, and so it was the two of them in the chamber. A great storm broke on that night, one that echoed the battle between lady and healer. For as the lady labored to bear the knight’s son, the healer endeavored to kill the child before he saw the light of day.”