Evaluation finished, the cat butted her ribs in a blatant bid for attention. She automatically scratched behind the tufted ears. �Is this a typical Scottish cat? He's enormous!�
�Lionel seems taken with you.� Jean perched in the chair by the dressing table. �His papa was a wildcat, which explains the size and arrogance. He comes and goes as he pleases, but until now, he hasn't shown much interest in people.�
�A wildcat? I've never seen one. Not even a half wildcat. What a very bushy tail you have, Lionel.� Gwynne stroked down his back. He began to purr, his claws kneading her thigh.
Jean grinned. �I think you have a pet. Crossbreeds have a reputation for attaching themselves to one person. Isabel de Cortes had one.�
�Ouch! Impressive claws.� Gwynne removed his paws from her leg. Now that Jean mentioned it, Lionel did resemble Isabel's cat in the library portrait. �How does one detach from an overenthusiastic wildcat?�
�One doesn't. If you were a witch, Lionel would be considered your familiar.�
�Guardians don't have familiars.�
Lionel reached out a paw and curved his claws into her skirt as if to say, �Mine.� Gwynne began to laugh. �I had to leave my sweet old tabby behind. I planned to find another, but I didn't expect a brute like this to adopt me.�
�You belong here, Gwynne. Lionel is just another sign of that. But the reason I stopped by was to tell you about our traditional Dunrath Friday night dinner. Has anyone mentioned that to you?�
Gwynne glanced out the window at the setting sun. �No, and since it's Friday and almost dinnertime, I'd better learn.�
�Family, staff, and a rotating group of crofters dine together in the great hall,� Jean explained. �There's a bit of ritual led by the mistress of the household. I've been doing it, but after tonight it will be your responsibility.�
So much for Gwynne's vague idea of having a quiet supper in her room after the full day. �Very well, I shall watch closely.�
�When I first saw you, I thought you would be a terrifying London lady,� Jean said shyly. �I'm so glad you're not.�
�No wonder you looked horrified when we met. The most London thing about me is my wardrobe, Jean. I'm used to a quiet life with books and horses.� A heavy paw batted her thigh. �And cats.� She frowned at Lionel, who looked remarkably possessive. �Do you think he understands English?�
�It wouldn't surprise me if he did. Crossbreed cats are very bright, and very loyal to their chosen humans.� Jean got to her feet. �We dine in half an hour. I'll send your maid up to help you dress.�
Jean left. Lionel didn't. Instead, he rolled on his back with his large paws in the air so Gwynne could scratch his striped tummy. As she obliged, she wondered how the cat and Duncan would get on. A castle had room for only one king. . . .
�
There were easily twenty people in the great hall when Gwynne arrived, with more coming in the front door. Fires roared in both fireplaces and the trestle tables usually set against the walls had been pulled out and placed end to end to create one long table. Four massive silver candelabra were set along the tabletop.
She had vaguely thought this would be a formal occasion, but the atmosphere was warm and relaxed. Duncan crossed the hall to join Gwynne when he saw her. The expression on his dark face was wary. Though they had settled their disagreement earlier, it was impossible not to remember their argument. �I just realized that I didn't tell you about the Friday night dinners.�
�Jean did.� Gwynne glanced around the hall. People were chatting casually, many of them sipping tankards of ale. �This is so different from England. Servants at Harlowe were treated well, but they never dined with the family.�
�Since everyone at Dunrath is more or less related, this is a family gathering. Isabel de Cortes began the custom. She thought we should take time every week to celebrate our blessings, not solemnly the way we do in the kirk, but joyfully.�
A deep musical sound boomed through the hall, echoes resonating from the ancient stone walls. Gwynne jumped. �What was that?�
�A gong from China.� Duncan grinned and offered his arm. �We enjoy the eclectic at Dunrath. May I show you to your seat, my lady?�
With a smile, she took his arm. His seat was at one end of the table, and he placed her beside him in another mark of the evening's informality. After everyone was seated, Jean entered the hall carrying a slender burning taper. As she lit the candles on the table, the talking stopped and people settled into comfortable silence.
When the candelabra were radiating warm light, Jean moved to her chair at the opposite end of the table from Duncan. Before sitting, she said in a clear voice, �This is the last time I shall act as Mistress of Dunrath. Welcome to Glen Rath, Gwyneth Owens.� She beckoned to her sister-in-law with both arms, her palms facing up.
�Welcome, family and friends.� Another beckoning gesture as her gaze moved over the assembled group. �And welcome to any visitors who may be joining us tonight.� She smiled warmly at Robbie Mackenzie beside her and gestured once more before sitting. �Now let us offer thanks for the blessings of family, food, and fellowship.� She covered her eyes with her hands, as did the assembled guests.
Gwynne followed Jean's lead, but she didn't pray, because her thoughts were full of wonder. When the moment of prayer ended, she leaned over to Duncan and whispered, �Do you know the origin of this ceremony?�
He looked puzzled. �As I said, Isabel de Cortes started the custom.�
�Once my lord Brecon took me to dine at the home of a friend of his, a Jewish scholar. It was Friday night, and the lady of the household led a ritual very like this one to welcome the Sabbath.� Gwynne smiled. �Even though Isabel and her family had converted to Christianity, they kept some of their ancient traditions.�
Duncan's face lit up. �And those traditions live on here in the wilds of Scotland. I'm glad to know that.� He took her hand, and they shared a moment of perfect accord.
Gwynne knew there was more conflict ahead of them, but she also knew beyond doubt that she was in the right place�and with the right man.
TWENTY-TWO
J ean was so immersed in a letter that she didn't notice when Gwynne entered the breakfast room. The letter was from Robbie Mackenzie, Gwynne assumed. He wrote at least twice a week, and the letters were fat. So were Jean's replies.
In the weeks since the Jacobites occupied Edinburgh, there had been little action except for the Battle of Prestonpans. As Gwynne had predicted, it was a swift triumph for the prince's forces. Since then, the rebels had been drilling and gathering strength for the next move.
Gwynne took a seat, Lionel leaping into the chair beside her. His manners were excellent and he wouldn't climb on the table, but he did expect to be rewarded for his forbearance. She gave him a bit of cheese, then leaned forward to top up Jean's cup with fresh steaming tea. Her sister-in-law looked up, blinking. �Oh, sorry, Gwynne, I didn't know you were there.�
�I'm practicing invisibility,� Gwynne said with mock seriousness.
Jean grinned. �As a child, I always thought it would be lovely to be invisible. Think of the mischief one could get away with!�
�It's hard to be invisible with red hair.� They shared a laughing glance of commiseration.
Gwynne tucked into her breakfast, thinking that Duncan had been right to say that she would soon find a place at Dunrath. The new mistress's lack of snobbery, acceptance of existing household customs, and progress with spoken Gaelic had endeared her to everyone in the castle. The Scottish-looking red hair hadn't hurt, either. Auld Donald had commended Gwynne on her tact. She hadn't explained that her motive was not tact but sloth. Why wrest control of the household from the hands of those who enjoyed managing it, when her own interests lay elsewhere?
She spread berry preserves on a piece of bread. �Does Robbie say anything about the situation with the rebel army, or is it all sweet words for his lady's ears alone?�
Jean blushed and folded the let
ter. �The latest news is that several French ships managed to slip through the English blockade with arms and supplies and money.�
Gwynne's bread tasted suddenly dry. �How fortunate for the prince.�
�Though you wish Charles Edward at Hades,� Jean observed, �the rising is growing more powerful every day. The Jacobites can win all, Gwynne. How I would love to be with the army! But Robbie says I would only be in the way.�
Gwynne was grateful for Robbie's good sense in keeping his impetuous sweetheart in a safe place, though Jean did not appreciate his consideration. She had a warrior heart and would have joined the rebellion in a heartbeat if she were male. Several young men from Glen Rath had gone to the prince. Their absence was not discussed.
Thinking it time to change the subject, Gwynne said, �This morning I'm going to be working on some interesting spells. Would you like to join me?�
�No thanks, I've work to do.�
It was the answer Jean always gave to Gwynne's invitations to work together, but today Gwynne succumbed to curiosity. �I can't help wondering why you choose not to develop your power.�
Jean hesitated before answering. �Having Duncan for a brother was rather overwhelming. I'm a dozen years younger, so he was already a mage by the time I was old enough to notice the world. My parents and other Guardians were always raving about his power�how he was going to be the greatest weather mage since the sainted Adam, and maybe even better. I couldn't begin to compete with that. My potential is average at best, so I decided to concentrate on mundane matters which I could do well.�
�I can see how it would be difficult having such a talented older brother,� Gwynne agreed. �But aren't you interested in the magic itself? Wielding power is marvelous. When I get it right, I feel a . . . a oneness with creation that is the most exciting thing I've ever known.� Except, of course, for her marriage to Duncan.
Face a little wistful, Jean shook her head. �Mostly I found it terribly frustrating. I know it was difficult for you to grow up without power, but when your magic came, it arrived in a great rush. You never went through the awkward, difficult phase. For me, trying to master power was like cutting stone with a dull knife. I might manage to scratch the surface, but the results weren't worth the effort involved.�
�Perhaps your power has strengthened with time.�
�I suppose that might have happened, but to be honest, I don't really have the desire to concentrate on boring books when the world is such an exciting place. There's a new day dawning, and I want to be part of it. Perhaps I shall travel to Edinburgh to stay with our cousins.� Jean finished her tea and rose, taking her leave with a nod.
Gwynne refreshed her tea, hoping Jean wouldn't follow through on her idea of visiting Edinburgh. Though the rebellion was quiet now, the capital would be an obvious focus of conflict if the government forces counterattacked.
Sometimes she had trouble remembering there was a war in progress not far away. Gwynne had ample time to read and study, and while she hadn't learned much about other enchantresses, the day before she had received a promising bundle of books from the library at Harlowe. Life would be idyllic if not for the danger she felt hanging over Scotland, and the tension in her marriage.
After the explosion in the library, she and Duncan stopped discussing politics. That prevented more arguments, but it had also put a barrier between them. They were courteous and affectionate with each other, but the intimacy that had been developing had frozen solid. Marital relations, no matter how amazing�and they were!�couldn't compensate for emotional wariness. She mourned their loss of closeness. When this damnable rebellion ended, perhaps they could find their way to true intimacy.
She was about to leave the breakfast room when Duncan swept in the door wearing riding dress and a mischievous smile. Lionel ostentatiously changed position, turning his back on Duncan and tucking his nose under his tail.
Duncan raised her chin and gave her a thorough kiss. �Come, my lady. It's a beautiful day, I have no pressing duties at the castle, and it's time you abandoned your books for a good ride.�
�I've been riding every day,� she protested.
�But you haven't been outside of Glen Rath. Today we'll visit a place you'll enjoy, I think. Change into your habit while I find us some food for the journey.�
She glanced out the window at the bright, windswept sky. �You're being high-handed, my lord, but I shall overlook it because an excursion on a bright autumn day does sound appealing.�
�I'll meet you in twenty minutes at the stables.� He vanished again.
Smiling, Gwynne headed upstairs to change. Should she check the scrying glass to see if she could determine their destination? She tried to turn every aspect of daily life into another lesson. But this time, she decided, she would rather be surprised.
�
�Isn't this view worth a steep ride?� Duncan gestured at the vista before them. The day was windy and the Highland sky was crystal clear. A little below them, an eagle glided through the sky as it watched for prey in the glen below.
Laughing, Gwynne pulled off her bonnet so the wind could pull at her hair. �It is indeed. I'm amazed the horses can manage these trails.�
He patted Zeus's sleek neck. �The Montagues breed tough mounts well suited to our hills.�
�I suppose that's worth an attempted abduction.� Gwynne's gaze swept the rugged landscape. Though some trees had lost their leaves, others still blazed with color. �This may be the last day that's so warm and pretty until next spring.� She slanted him a teasing glance. �Unless you intend to give Glen Rath a mild winter?�
When she looked at him like that, he was tempted to turn the glen into a tropical paradise, but he shook his head. �I give my glen more sunshine than most of Scotland receives, but doing too much would be conspicuous. A pity we don't live on a small island, where weather patterns can be very individual. Iona, a holy island in the Hebrides, will be sunny yet have rain falling all around it.�
Gwynne frowned charmingly. �How is that possible?�
�I suspect that when St. Columba brought his Celtic monks to Iona, there was a weather mage in the group who set such a powerful spell on the island that even today the rain clouds keep their distance.�
�That sounds lovely. Can we visit it someday?�
�It will be my pleasure to take you.� After the rising was over�that was an unstated condition that applied to everything in their lives. He felt as if they were in limbo, waiting for a great and terrible storm to strike. �I have another sight for you.�
He led the way along the narrow trail that crested the ridge, then descended into a small wooded hollow halfway down the hill. He dismounted and tethered his horse, then helped Gwynne down. The feel of her slim waist under his hands gave him ideas about how to take advantage of the sunny day after their picnic.
She studied the glen below, where a road and a river were visible. On the hills opposite a single lonely cottage could be seen, but the road was well traveled, arching across the narrow river on a stone bridge �Is this the road to Fort Augustus?�
�Yes.� He shaded his eyes. �Look, a company of government soldiers. They must be marching north to reinforce the fort.� The scarlet coats looked brave against the green glen, but he noticed that the marching was ragged. Probably they were inexperienced new recruits. The forces on both sides were ill-equipped and ill-trained.
That would change if�no, when�the Hanoverian government brought experienced regiments back from Flanders, where they were serving now. If the prince had faced seasoned troops at Prestonpans, the result would have been very different, and much more damaging to the Jacobite army.
Wondering how long the prince's good luck would last, he said, �I didn't bring you here to see the view, lovely though it is.� Taking her hand, he guided her into the grove of small trees.
�There's great power here.� Gwynne studied the grove with unfocused eyes. �I see the glow of two�no, thr
ee�ley lines.�
He nodded. The ancients knew how to detect the earth's patterns of power, and they built their holy places where ley lines converged. �Can you sense anything else?�
She frowned. �There's something else that's powerful but not as old.�
�My lady is most perceptive.�
They entered a glade and almost walked into a flat, irregularly shaped stone that had been set into the earth so that it stood upright almost as tall as a man. Half a dozen similar stones stood sentinel around the clearing.
�A Druid circle!� Reverently Gwynne touched the lichened surface of the stone.
�This site has something I've not seen in any other circle.� He gestured toward the rectangular stone shape that jutted from the middle of the meadow.
�A carved cross! What exquisite workmanship.� Gwynne moved into the center of the clearing and pressed her palm to the cross. �I can feel the energy of the man who carved it. He was a monk, and he carved his faith into the stone.� She traced the interlaced patterns that covered the raised surface of the cross. �This was placed here much later than the standing stones. Centuries later.�
�Your monk and his friends must have decided to use the energies of the ley lines and the Druid circle to amplify Christian power.� Like Gwynne, he traced the sinuously twining patterns that decorated the cross, feeling the serenity that had created them. �The world is so large and we are so small. Belief in something greater is a basic human need, I think.�
�A pity that believers can be so quick to kill others who don't believe in quite the same way,� Gwynne said wryly. She jerked her head up as a ragged series of booms echoed through the hills. �Gunshots?�
�The soldiers!� Cursing himself for enjoying the day with Gwynne so much that he wasn't paying attention to the world, Duncan raced back through the grove until he could look down into the glen. Gwynne arrived moments later as another volley of shots rattled through the noon air, smoke clouding the pristine glen.
Together they stared in horror at what had been a peaceful green valley. The distant war had arrived on their doorstep.
TWENTY-THREE
D amnation!� Duncan swore as a screaming company of Highlanders swept down on the government troops. A handful of Hanoverians were standing their ground, and several attackers fell under the musket fire. But most of the raw government soldiers had panicked and they were bolting across the narrow stone bridge, elbowing their fellows in their desperate attempt to escape their attackers.
A Kiss of Fate Page 19