by Annis, Dawn
Fiona slathered a slice of bread with sweet butter. “I would like to see what the traders are sellin’ this year.”
Callum inhaled deeply and let his breath out slowly in his relief. There was little to do for a man at the fair alone. Obligated to make an appearance as Laird of Clan MacLeod, he had encouraged all in his clan to attend. His mother and sister provided his excuse to linger.
He was anxious to see Thea. To see her lovely face. To hold her. Though he doubted he would be able do so unless there was dancing. Perhaps. He’d lain in his bed last night, sleep escaping him, his thoughts on Thea. His body had a memory all its own. Her warmth, her skin so soft, the clean, fresh smell of her hair. Good God, he wanted this woman. Like no other. He’d had women, but none grasped his interest as she did. It was not like him to be unable to get a woman out of his mind. Perhaps it was lust combined with the forbidden. Perhaps he was fooling himself. He finished eating and stood. “I will see to the horses. Let us take the carriage, so ye can carry all yer finds back.”
Fiona cracked a smile. Lettie stared toward the ceiling, pretending innocence.
”Ye ladies go on.” Callum bent and gave his mother a quick peck on the cheek.
Riding to the fair, Lettie worried her handkerchief. Callum placed a calming hand over hers and kissed her forehead.
“Lettie, ’twill be fine. We are here to enjoy ourselves. Da would want us to go on with our lives.”
“Ye are right. I have other troubles on my mind. The prince is comin’ to our lands, our home. What if he dinna accept yer decision and go about his way? What if ’tis no good enough for him? What if the MacDonalds are prepared to fight us for our decisions? I couldna bear to have my brother taken from me as well.”
“Wee sister, I am no goin’ anywhere. We can expect Prince Charlie any time, but he will get my answer and go his own way. The MacDonald clan are brutes, no doubt, but cowards, too. They will no wish to get into a war with the MacLeod clan with the MacNichol and MacCrimmon backin’ us.”
Lettie relaxed her shoulders.
“Yer brother has it well in hand, Lettie.” Fiona patted her knee. “Ye can depend on it.”
The MacLeods arrived to the fair in full swing. Fiona took Lettie’s hand and headed to the various stalls selling everything from copper pots to lavender soap. Callum waited until he saw them with their heads together examining the leather belts at the counter of a tanner, then scanned the crowd for Thea. He found her sitting behind a group of children in a circle, obviously waiting for something to begin. One of the boys saw him.
“MacLeod,” he moaned. “There is no magician this year.” His gaze dropped to the ground, his bottom lip trembled.
Callum stood above him. “Aye, ’tis a sore thing to be sure.” He bent and placed his hand near the boy’s ear. From it, he pulled a coin.
“Aahhh,” the boy gushed. “Ye ken magic?”
The boys gathered around, begging to know how it was done.
“Och, if I told ye, it wouldna be magic,” Callum said with a glint in his eye.
A small boy begged to hold the magic coin in his grubby hand. To the lad’s delight, Callum handed it to him.
“There are many things the MacLeod can do,” Thea said, scooting over for Callum to sit down.
Callum took his seat close enough to her their thighs touched and he felt her warmth, warmth he had dreamed about. Her arm rubbed his with every movement. His eyes met Timothy’s across the circle. Timothy watched his sister briefly and in a moment of uncharacteristic seriousness, he inclined his head in acceptance. Callum returned the gesture and they settled in their respective seats.
Two men helped an old woman to her seat. She sat hunched and bent, her gnarled hands grasping a carved wooden cane perhaps as ancient as herself. The wrinkles on her face were lined themselves, her white hair atop her head in thick braids. She placed a crooked finger to her lips. The children quieted. She began to speak in a clear voice belying her age.
“Some many years ago, we had ourselves a young and handsome laird. To see him delighted the eye. All the young lassies dreamed o’ becomin’ his wife. But none suited him. One day as he rode the heather-laden fields, he stumbled upon a beautiful faerie princess. He fell in love at the sight o’ her. She gazed upon our winsome lad and lost her heart as well.”
The lasses in the group sighed. The lads shifted in their seats.
“They longed to marry and asked her da, the King o’ the Faeries, for his blessin’. He refused them. He explained to his daughter his fear for her happiness. ‘The humans soon age and die, and ye shall be left all alone as we live forever. How can I let my only daughter bear such a pain?’ But the faerie princess begged and pleaded with her da, and he relented. ‘Ye may marry this man, but ye can stay with him for only a year and a day, and then ye must return to yer family.’ She agreed, and the couple were married in a graceful ceremony.”
Callum glanced at Thea. She smiled but quickly returned her attention to the old woman, enthralled in the story.
“The clan rejoiced in the happiness o’ the laird and his lady. They all lived in a time o’ good fortune and plenty. Soon the faerie princess bore her lovin’ husband a strappin’ and handsome bairn, and they were joyous. Their son was greeted with much rejoicin’ and celebration.”
More people gathered close to hear the story. They clapped their hands and stamped their feet in approval.
“The days and months passed, each happier than the one before. Too soon, a year and a day passed, and ’twas time for the faerie princess to return to the Kingdom o’ the Faeries. The faerie king and his army waited at the end o’ the lane in their fine armor for her to keep her promise. The faerie princess kent she had no choice. The laird begged her no to go. He told her with tears in his eyes he loved her and couldna live without her. She told him he must live for their son. She said to the grievin’ laird she would mind their time together with great joy and mourn their separation. Before she left, she held her son tightly to her breast, huggin’ him. She kissed her husband and clung fiercely to him, vowin’ to return. She made him promise to care for their son. She asked he never be left alone and when he wept he would be comforted with all haste as she could no bear to hear the sound o’ his sorrow. Our laird was heartbroken as he bid his wife goodbye and prayed she would someday be allowed to come home.”
Thea wiped her eyes, and Callum put his arm around her for comfort. A woman blew her nose on a hanky, tears running freely down her face.
“The laird grieved for the loss o’ his wife and grew dark with despair. The clan kent they must pull their laird from the depths o’ his sad state or lose him forever. They held a great feast with much gaiety and dance. The laird sat in his chair in the great hall watchin’ the dancin’. The women o’ the clan dragged him out to join in the celebration, and soon he was dancin’ to the piper’s tune. The young maiden set to watch the laird’s infant son was enticed by the music and revelry. She slipped awa’ from the lad to watch the merrymakin’.”
The crowd hissed and booed.
“So enthralled was she, she did no hear the young laird awaken and begin to cry. He wept so woefully ’twas heard all the way to the Kingdom o’ the Faeries. When his mother heard it, she was so distressed she appeared next to his crib and took him in her arms. She comforted her son and dried his tears. She sang him a sweet song until his wee eyes closed with sleep. She wrapped the bairn in her faerie shawl and laid him down in his crib. She kissed his forehead, whispered magical words in his ear, and disappeared.
“When the lad grew to be a man, he told his da o’ his mother’s visit to him in his time o’ woe, and that her shawl was a flag and had magical powers. If ever the clan faced mortal danger, the Faerie Flag was to be waved, and the knights o’ the faeries would ride to their defense. There were only to be three such blessin’s, and only in the
direst o’ need should the faerie magic be used. The laird believed his son and ordered the flag placed in a special box, and it never left his side.”
“Aaahhh,” the crowd sighed.
“Hundreds o’ years later, a rival clan threatened the laird and his clan. As the battle raged, the laird and his men were outnumbered three to one. Before the enemies last and what was sure to be cripplin’ charge, the laird pulled the Faerie Flag from its box. He placed it on a pole and waved it once, twice, three times. Suddenly the laird and his men appeared to the enemy clan as ten times their number. The enemy turned and fled, never to threaten the clan agin.”
“Hurrah,” the group cheered as one.
“Many more years later, a terrible plague had killed nearly all o’ the clan’s cattle. They were faced with a long hard winter o’ starvation. Havin’ no choice, the laird climbed to the tallest tower o’ the castle. He waved the flag once, twice, three times. The king and his faerie army rode down from the clouds. They drew their swords and rode above the cattle on the wind. They touched each cow, dead or dyin’, with their magical swords. When they made their final pass, the whole herd stood healthy and robust. The clan was saved once agin.”
“Hurrah.”
“But take heed my wee ones.”
The crowd quieted down.
“There is but one blessin’ left in the Faerie Flag. It has only one more wavin’ to give.”
The crowd applauded with enthusiasm. The old woman smiled and took a single bow. Her two companions helped her from her seat once more.
“I have heard the story many times over the years, and it always moves my heart.” Thea wiped a tear from her eye.
“I havena heard the auld woman for many a year. ’Tis a fine tale to be sure,” Callum agreed. He brushed her cheek, depositing her tear on his thumb. His stomach tumbled. Why did he feel so strongly for her? He who made it his business not to be tied to one woman. England beckoned, but her pull weakened.
He saw in Thea’s eyes she was beginning to have feelings for him. She had no guile, no agenda.
Did he dare tell her of his continued indecision? Of course, she would side with her clan. He was ready for the fight the Young Pretender may bring to his shores. Then would he stay? It seemed a momentous dilemma. The threat that hung over them all weighed on him. He cared. He didn’t want to care.
Callum stood and helped Thea to her feet. The crowd dispersed, the children chattering noisily. A sweets wagon master happened to position his wares nearest to where the crowd exited. The children clamored to the MacLeod.
“These are the best sweets, my lord,” said one lad, his eyes wide.
“It would be a shame to waste them,” said another.
“It would,” Callum laughed. “I ken several wee ones who could benefit from such a wagon.” Delight followed as each child and adult alike were handed a sweet.
~ ~ ~
Thea gazed at the man beside her. Something was on his mind despite his good cheer. She could feel it. A tension, a distraction. Something beyond the prince.
“Shall we stroll the grounds for a wee bit?”
“If ye wish,” Thea said, hoping Callum would tell her what had occurred that had changed his mood.
Callum strolled aimlessly, and Thea kept pace beside him. They left the fair and walked toward the harbor. Callum took Thea’s hand as they watched the gulls soar across the water. The wind whipped at her skirts and sent her curls escaping from their pins.
“D’ye believe there is another who could take my place as laird should somethin’ happen to me?”
Thea turned and cupped his face with the palms of her hands. She looked into his eyes and saw worry and doubt.
“Callum, dinna think such a thing. Ye will bring on the Fates.”
“Nay, the Fates will no come,” Callum said, shaking his head. “All I mean to ask is if ye think there is another to take my place.” He turned, clasped her hand, and headed back to the fair.
As they returned to the village, Thea worried her lip. Did he want to leave? What was she to do? She loved the MacLeod. She had been in love with him since she’d been a young lass. Now he’d come home. She could not bear the thought of losing him again.
Chapter 8
On the ride home, Callum was quiet. His thoughts were on Thea and Prince Charlie. The two subjects warred with each other in his mind.
Lettie sat beside her brother in the carriage, his horse tied to the back.
“Thea looked pretty in her gown this afternoon,” Lettie commented, her head cocked to get a better look at Callum’s face.
“I dinna notice.”
“Ye canna fool me, brother. I saw ye together. Ye noticed.”
“Dinna trouble yerself with it,” Callum said, ending the conversation.
She grinned.
“Leave it alone, Lettie,” he demanded, his voice sharper than what he intended. He grabbed hold of Lettie’s hand and squeezed it to soften his words.
Fiona eyed her son and daughter. “I noticed, Callum, ye spent a bit o’ time with Thea. Did ye enjoy yerselves?”
Callum grunted. He wasn’t about to tell his mother anything she could use to foster the relationship. Women had a way about that. Particularly mothers.
They arrived at the MacLeod seat, and Callum helped his mother and sister from the carriage. “Maw, be ready for the wretched prince. From what Gregory said, I can bet he will arrive at any time.”
Fiona gave him a curt nod and started to hustle everyone into Dunvegan.
One of the women from the clan handed him a note.
The scent of perfume was so strong his mother coughed. One eyebrow lifted as she gave him a look no man wanted to receive from his mother. Sheepish, he shrugged and climbed the stairs to the Faerie Tower. He hadn’t answered her first letter; why must Victoria continue her pursuit? He broke the seal and opened the note.
I detest you. My love for you has turned to smoke. Its vapors I gladly blow to the winds. You are wretched and vile. I curse the days I have spent pining for your love. I am a fool, and you are selfish.
I have received nothing from you. Are you too busy to send a sweet note? A line or two? What business takes you from me? Surely none so worthy. Remember I know much of the way you earn your money. It would take nothing to whisper in the right person’s ear.
In truth, I am lonely for your caress. I am worried to have no news from you. Have you come to harm? Write to me. Quickly, before you have finished reading this letter. Tell me you adore me, yearn for me, that you love me.
Victoria
Callum read the note twice. Victoria, true to form. Her mercurial moods ran from one extreme to the other. Perhaps it was best to ignore her. She would soon grow tired of the game and move on to one of the many men vying for her attention.
He remembered those afternoons with her. He’d been a man with no regard for responsibilities or consequences. Here was a chance to change. He could make a difference in his life and, perhaps with luck and hard work on his part, become a proud laird of a thriving clan. A man proud of himself.
His thoughts turned to Thea and the enjoyable afternoon he spent with her. It had been a long time since he’d enjoyed such pleasure in the company of a lady. A true lady.
He remembered her as a wee lass. She’d giggled too much and always at the wrong time. She’d been scrawny with her skirts too short and her face always dirty. Her hair had always flown out of its knot atop her head like a bird’s nest awaiting its occupant. When Thea’s hair escaped its pins now, it curled beautifully around her lovely face. Her body was full with the proper curves of a woman.
He drew his mind back to the problem facing the clan. The prince was coming, and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it. Not sure when the man would arrive, Callum suspected it would be so
on. Prince Charles, the last person with whom he wanted to deal.
Several hours later, the man himself arrived.
“Callum, he’s here,” Fiona said as she climbed the last stair to the tower.
Callum started toward the stairs with a heavy sigh. “Stay with Lettie, Maw. Keep a watchful eye out. I dinna want her too close to him.”
His gut clenched. His brief association with the churl in Paris was enough to observe the prince’s disgusting lust.
“Would he do her harm?”
Callum growled. “He will try to bed her and wouldna ask if she was willin’.”
Shocked, Fiona grabbed Callum’s forearm. “Truly?”
“Aye,” Callum replied grimly.
Callum helped his mother down the stairs. He dispatched men to MacNichol and MacCrimmon with news of the prince’s arrival.
Fiona marched straight toward Lettie and spoke quietly in her ear. Lettie dropped her sewing in the chair by the fire and hastened to stand with her mother.
Callum stepped outside as Charles, the Young Pretender, placed a dainty foot on the step of his ornate carriage. A footman stepped in to help him to the ground. Callum caught a whiff of the man’s overwhelming perfume, perfume unable to mask the smell of his poor hygiene.
The prince’s royal-blue coat, embroidered with green ivy, strained against a rotund belly. Knee breeches with red garters held up his silk stockings, and he had placed a tartan tam on his head that sported a jaunty feather held by a gold broach. He turned his head from side to side for Callum’s benefit, wanting his appreciation. Once alighted from the carriage, the prince was much shorter than Callum had imagined, although the man wore heels of some height. One of the carriage horses took the opportunity to piss, spraying mud on the back of the prince’s leg. Charles’s face wrinkled in obvious disgust, and he placed a lace handkerchief to his nose.