Rowena laughed. “But young enough to charm the ladies, I am sure. Come, Stewart, charm me on this night.”
The warrior bowed. “I apologize, my lady, for I have not the gift of making fine conversation. It matters little if I am tired or not.”
She laughed lightly, as if he made a jest. “Oh, but you do not know that I am familiar with you men of war,” she said, as if teasing him. “And that I have a weakness for such measured conversation.”
“Indeed, my lady?”
“Indeed. My husband, too, is taciturn when he has ridden far.” She wrinkled her nose. “In fact, he is taciturn most of the time.”
Stewart smiled. “If a lifetime in your company could not grant him charm, my lady, a single evening will not do as much for me.”
Rowena laughed. “That is fairly said. I am sorry that Coinneach is so ill.” She shook her head, aware that the warrior’s eyes had widened slightly. “You might have understood each other well.”
“Indeed, I believe we might have,” Stewart said with resolve. Rowena smiled to hear his impulse to see her husband, to try to save that man from her Fae spell. “I, too, am sorry your husband is ill.”
In a way, it was disappointing for mortal men to be so predictable.
“I have the most wondrous idea!” Rowena snapped her fingers. “Perhaps it would aid him to meet a man of his own ilk. Perhaps you might assist in his recovery.”
“I would willingly do whatever might help him.”
“Would you visit him this night, Stewart? It is so dull for him to lie abed while others make merry. Conversation with another warrior might give him new strength.”
“I should be honored, my lady.”
“I do warn you that he is quite ill. There is a potion he favors, which he orders from the old woman in the village. I do not approve of it, but he insists upon drinking it. He will probably demand that you fetch it for him.” Rowena shook her head. “I would ask you not to comply.”
“I understand, my lady.”
“Come, then, and I will show you to his chamber. Thank you so much, Stewart.” Rowena cooed beside him, as if she were a feeble woman and one easily overwhelmed. “You cannot know what this means to me. I should so love to see him well again.”
Rowena smiled to herself as Stewart’s lips tightened in resolve. Coinneach would ask for the cup, because the potion she brewed for him created a craving for more. Stewart would comply with Coinneach’s request, thinking he defied the Fae mistress of the abode and would be aiding his fellow man.
And the final dose of poison would be administered to Coinneach, with nary an effort on her part. There would be no shadow over Andrew’s inheritance of Killairig. Rowena would be avenged upon her sister, fulfill her pledge to her mother, and create a future for her son.
The only fact that marred her triumph was the loss of Aurelia. Andrew’s tidings had nearly made Rowena despair, but her grief had already hardened into a determination to be avenged. Once Andrew was Laird of Killairig, Rowena would seek out the man who had stolen her pride and joy.
Garrett MacLachlan would wish he had never been born by the time she was done.
Chapter Fifteen
Two days after their departure from the hut, the land fell away at one side of the road, and Annelise forgot how sore she was from so much time in the saddle. The vista spread before her stole her breath with its beauty. She could see the ocean clearly from this vantage point for the first time, the water sparkling like silver. The wind lifted her hair and birds flew overhead. Beneath them, she could see a stone keep, perched on the very point of a forested finger of land. It would have a commanding view of the sea and the islands scattered beyond. The forest was deeply green and lush, and a pennant snapped in the wind from the summit of the tower.
“Killairig,” Garrett said quietly.
“It reminds me of Ravensmuir,” Annelise said. “But the birds are eagles instead of ravens, and this sea has islands. Still the keep has an imposing site, just as Ravensmuir does.” She looked around. “And there are so few flowers.”
Their gazes locked for a moment, then Garrett urged Yseult onward.
The land dropped steeply from that point and Annelise could see that the road switched back and forth for the descent. She looked out to sea, noting the dark clouds that were mustering on the horizon. They seemed to be blowing closer at a fierce pace and she heard the distant rumble of thunder. “It seems we shall find shelter just in time.”
“Indeed. The clouds are nearly black.” Garrett lifted the reins to hasten Yseult, but Annelise stayed him with a touch.
“We must have a plan,” she said. “What will you do?”
“Appeal to the lady, for she was most kind to me.”
“Still, the tale and my dream made the lady the villain…” She frowned, disliking that she had not seen the white wolf again since it had blocked their path to this place. “I think you should feign your illness.”
“Perhaps I will fall ill in truth. I have not entered a crowded keep without repercussions.”
Annelise heard Garrett’s uncertainty and turned to face him. “You know that all will be well this time. That is why we have come.”
“I hope all will be well this time,” he said. “I would not ask for a lairdship as I writhe on the floor, incoherent. Who would grant a seal to a madman, even if he was the laird’s son?” His lips tightened. “I would defend you against all, Annelise, but if I am struck down…”
“You will not be,” Annelise said firmly. “They will expect you to act the same way as before. Whether you feel besieged or not, I think you should act as a man in pain.”
Garrett nodded. “For they would then underestimate me. That is a good thought.”
“I will remain by your side and my presence will aid you,” she continued. “And if you cannot argue your own case, then I shall make it.”
“And I heard tell that you were shy,” he teased, prompting her smile.
“There is so much at stake, Garrett. I cannot stand aside.” Annelise turned to face him again as she had a thought. “You can use your gift even more. Would you listen to the thoughts of those within the hall while we approach? Then we might know better what to expect.”
Garrett lifted her chin for a kiss that quickly turned incendiary. Annelise wondered whether she was the only one who needed the encouragement of their embrace, for Garrett slowed Yseult to a halt to deepen his kiss.
When they parted, breathless, she reminded him of what he should do. “You must listen,” she urged. “You may learn a detail we can use.”
“I must concentrate to do as much,” Garrett said with a nod. There was a clump of forest clinging to the side of the road and he led the mare there, then dismounted. He tethered Yseult to a tree, then made to lift Annelise from the saddle.
He froze then, staring past her.
“What is it?” Annelise whispered and turned to look. The trees thinned and the sunlight shone on a clearing beyond.
It was filled with shapes, as if a crowd of people stood there.
In silence.
Garrett touched his finger to her lips, then lifted his crossbow from its sling. He loaded it and eased toward the clearing, suspicion in his every move. Annelise dismounted and followed him with care, looking about herself as they proceeded. The forest was so silent, it could have been holding its breath. Even the sound of the sea below seemed muted. Yseult folded her ears back and watched them.
When Garrett stepped into the clearing, he lowered the crossbow.
Annelise halted beside him and stared.
It was not a crowd of people in the clearing, but a cluster of stones. They were the shape and size of men—tall men, short men, heavy men and thin men were all represented. The stones themselves were grey. There must have been twenty of them.
“Are they carved?” Annelise whispered.
“Nay,” Garrett said. He leaned close to one and looked into the stone. If Annelise squinted, she could see the features of a
face trapped within it, the mouth open in surprise.
Garrett flinched suddenly in pain. Annelise did not manage to make a sound before he spun around. He had his loaded crossbow in hand and lifted it to aim.
“Nay, they are not carved,” said another man, amusement in his tone. “They are my sister’s lovers, or once they were.”
Andrew!
Annelise would have reached for Garrett to share her strength with him, but she had no chance.
“You will not touch him,” Andrew said, stepping out of the forest’s shadows. “For if you do, I will kill him.”
Annelise reluctantly lifted her hands away from Garrett.
“And if you defy me in any way, I will kill him before your eyes, then kill you.” Andrew smiled, as if they had been discussing the weather. He glanced around the clearing. “My sister enjoyed using her gift once she had tired of any particular man.” He looked down at Garrett with a disdainful smile. “Although I am not certain it is entirely bad to be devoid of such so-called gifts.”
“You hate him. You bend your hateful thoughts upon him.”
“And why not?” Andrew’s smile broadened. “Is it not fitting to despise the one who can steal a heart’s desire?” Before she could reply, he inclined his head. “Well met, my lady Annelise. There is someone in my father’s hall who will be pleased to see you again.”
“Indeed?”
“Orson Douglas was much disappointed when you evaded him. He will be delighted to see you again. This is a day when desires of the heart are fulfilled.”
Annelise doubted that would be the case, not once Orson saw Garrett’s chemise stained with her maidenhead. For the moment, she remained silent.
“Not the lady,” Garrett whispered, strain in his voice. “Do not sacrifice the lady.”
“I shall do as I wish with the lady,” Andrew said, his resolve clear. He strode closer and Annelise watched in horror as he bent his glance upon Garrett. “You have no say in these lands.”
Garrett groaned and dropped his crossbow. The weapon hit the ground with a clatter, and Annelise feared the worst. She had never seen him treat his weapons with anything less than respect. He fell to his knees and then to the ground, writhing once again.
Did he take her counsel and pretend it to be worse?
Or was he truly in anguish?
How Annelise wished to know for certain!
“Your malady is worse in my father’s abode, Garrett MacLachlan,” Andrew said in that harsh tone. “It is worse because you do not belong here. It is worse because you are insane, and a threat to all here.” He dropped his voice to a hiss. “It is only for your own safety that you should be imprisoned.” He beckoned to a pair of guards, who moved to pick up Garrett. “Take him to the dungeons. You need show him no mercy, as he is a threat to both my mother and myself.”
“Aye, my lord.”
Annelise wanted to intervene, but she knew she could not fight three men and win. “Surely compassion would not go awry,” she dared to say.
Andrew turned his cold gaze upon her. “The same compassion he showed my sister?”
There was naught Annelise could say to that.
Andrew stepped closer. “You may tell me who has the wolf pelt. It is a shame you gave it away, but I shall see it returned to my mother, one way or the other.”
“I did not give it away,” Annelise admitted, hoping her cooperation would keep Garrett from greater harm. “It is in my satchel.”
Andrew smiled. “Then you will have the honor of presenting it to my mother.” He gestured imperiously and the guards lifted Garrett. He indicated that she should precede him and she saw the flash of his dagger beneath his cloak. The entire party continued toward Killairig, and Annelise glanced back to see another pair of guards leading a temperamental Yseult onward.
Annelise was certain she, too, would be consigned to Killairig’s dungeons and that there she would be able the help Garrett. Even if his agony was feigned, it was sufficiently convincing to feed her concern.
The downward path took a turn, and Annelise saw that the keep was not that far away. The storm clouds were gathering fast and the first fat raindrops fell. She felt her trepidation grow with every step. When they reached the gates, Garrett was carried into the darkness of the keep, while she was led to the great hall itself. Annelise saw the woman waiting for her, a woman with dark hair and cold eyes, and for the first time, she feared that this foray to regain Garrett’s rights might not end well for either of them.
*
As much as it troubled Garrett to have Annelise fret for his welfare, he knew her plan had been a good one. Andrew’s malice was familiar from Seton Manor, but its vigor was much diminished. Annelise had broken the curse set upon him by the Lady of Killairig, but neither Rowena nor her son needed to know that detail. Garrett listened to the thoughts of the guards as he was carried toward Killairig. They treated him roughly but he did not care.
He could only hope that Annelise was enough of a prize that she would not be injured.
And then he had to do what he could to win her safety.
Garrett was not truly surprised to hear the echo of resentment in the thoughts of those who still lived at Killairig. He heard the gnaw of hunger and the weariness of heavy toil. He sensed the mood of futility for those in this keep and was amazed that all could go so far awry in such a location.
Perhaps Killairig was cursed.
Could his love for Annelise see it restored to prosperity and vigor? Garrett had to believe that he would rule more fairly than Rowena.
He sensed a measure of grief in the hall itself and understood that Coinneach was dead. Those who served in the hall had mixed feelings about this. The older ones recalled that he had not always been domineering and were glad he was in anguish no more. The younger ones were simply glad to have one less tyrant in the hall. The woman who cleaned his chamber had her suspicions as to the potion he had been fed for years, and the man who guarded the door bit back on his conviction that the old warrior had been tricked into giving Coinneach the killing dose of poison.
The old warrior?
Garrett had time to recognize that the man did not know the warrior’s name before he was cast into the dungeons. He was dropped into the pit and landed with a splash in some vile liquid in the darkness, but did not let himself be roused even then. He waited until the door was slammed and locked, then warily opened one eye.
There was a shadow huddled in the far corner, watching him closely.
Murdoch’s man, Stewart.
Tricked into giving a cup of so-called elixir to Coinneach, then condemned for murder by that man’s Fae wife.
“Still suffering the same ailment, boy?” Stewart demanded.
Garrett shook his head, even as he sat up. “My lady believed it best we be underestimated,” he said in the barest undertone.
He saw the flash of Stewart’s smile. “I always liked that girl,” the older man said gruffly, then the pair of them shook hands and leaned back against the wall together. Garrett listened and heard the guard returning.
“I would tell you what I have observed,” Stewart murmured, but Garrett lifted one finger in warning. He peered upward in the darkness, knowing the guard was close, then whispered in Stewart’s ear.
“You have only to think it,” he advised. Stewart looked at him with surprise before he nodded in understanding, then reached into his belt to remove a brass key. He smiled at Garrett.
I have this, but they are always three guards or more.
Garrett nodded. There had to be a way to escape.
He heard that Stewart shared his view and was encouraged that they were two. The old warrior then folded his arms across his chest, leaned back against the wall and began to review all he had witnessed since arriving at Killairig.
Stewart proved to be one of the most observant men Garrett had ever known.
*
Annelise sat at the board in Killairig’s hall, supposedly a guest of honor but in fact a p
risoner to be given to Orson Douglas. That man was inordinately pleased with himself and with her arrival at Killairig. He sat beside her and regaled her with tales of their future together. His squire Percy served them both.
Annelise had been obliged to present the wolf pelt to the lady Rowena, which had prompted that lady to cry out in anguish and clutch the pelt to her chest. Even once they were all seated, Rowena spread the wolf pelt across the board in front of herself and stroked it ceaselessly. She was as dark as Annelise might have expected from the tales, her hair as black as a raven’s wing and her eyes as dark as onyx. There was a cruelty in the line of her lips, and blue marks could be seen on her skin, where it peeked out from her long sleeves.
Fae, just as the tales recounted.
There clearly was a glamour cast in the hall, for it looked to be perfect and the servants seemed to be happy. Annelise was convinced that the illusion was like a fine cloth and could be torn down at any moment to reveal its hidden truth.
She also was certain the truth would not look so alluring.
She could not help but wish she knew more of Garrett’s location and his condition.
“You should possess her this very night,” Rowena said suddenly, interrupting Orson’s monologue. “Do not leave any facet of the matter to doubt.”
Orson smiled. “You are right, of course. The maiden has proven to be elusive before.”
Annelise smiled back at him. “But you are mistaken, Sir Orson. I am a maiden no longer.”
Orson’s smile did not waver. “You lie, in an attempt to change my mind.” He leaned his weight on one elbow. “I know that the will of the earl cannot be denied, and I will not return after all this time to see him dissatisfied with me.”
“What if I can prove it?”
Orson’s eyes narrowed and his voice dropped low. “Do you truly wish to prove to me that you are a harlot, Annelise? I should think that you would want me to treat you with all the respect due to my lady wife.”
Annelise shivered at the chill in his eyes.
“You should bind her,” Rowena said, her voice low and vicious. “Be sure to hurt her, so that she understands the pain that has been inflicted upon my daughter and thus to me.”
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