The Knight and the Seer (22 page)

Her smile was dazzling. “Go back and fetch him, for you promised me that Andrew Ross would kneel before me this day.”

“Aye. But I…” His words trailed off.

The villagers gasped as a breeze rippled his tunic, revealing the hilt of his knife protruding from his chest.

He took another step toward Sabrina, then suddenly dropped to his knees before falling prone before her. As he gasped his last breath, blood spilled from the wound and soaked the ground beneath him.

The air rang with the cheers of the villagers as they watched their enemy fall, and the shouts from Logan’s warriors as they milled about in search of a leader to tell them what to do.

“Attack, you fools,” Sabrina shouted.

“But we have no leader, my lady,” a brawny warrior called.

“I will lead you now. These peasants are no match for our strength. We must kill them. All of them.” Seeing some of Logan’s warriors running toward the shelter of the nearby forest, she cupped her hands to her mouth. “Kill any man, even our own, who attempts to flee.”

The warrior holding Gwenellen released her as he struggled to slip his sword from the scabbard. Gwenellen used that moment of distraction to rush to Andrew’s side.

Her heart nearly stopped as she cradled the limp, bloodied body in her arms. “Oh, my beloved. Please, Andrew. Speak to me.”

Just then there was the sound of thunderous hoofbeats, and an army of Highlanders wearing the Ross plaid appeared over a rise in the meadow. With the sound of bagpipes from the rear of their column, they approached, causing Logan’s warriors to turn and flee, with Sabrina in the lead.

A tall, handsome warrior caught the housekeeper in a fierce hug and listened as she relayed to him all that had happened. Then, with his arm firmly around her waist he approached the place where Gwenellen knelt still holding Andrew in her arms.

“My lady, I am Drymen MacLean. My wife has told me of Logan’s treachery. I’ve sent my men in pursuit of his woman and his warriors.”

When she didn’t respond he knelt beside her. “My lady. Did you hear me?”

She looked up, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Forgive me, sir. I’m most grateful that you’re here. But I fear it’s too late to save Andrew.” Her shoulders shook with uncontrollable sobs. “He is lost to us.”

Chapter Twenty

“H
ere now, my lady.” Mistress MacLean caught Gwenellen’s slumped shoulders and helped her to her feet, while Drymen lifted the body of his laird in his arms and began the trek to the castle, with the villagers trailing behind.

It was a solemn procession that wound its way across the meadow, through the garden, and into the castle.

Once inside, the housekeeper pointed a finger. “We’ll lay the laird out in the great hall.”

Before her husband could do as she asked, Gwenellen stopped him with a hand on his sleeve. “Nay. Take him to the library in the old abbey.”

“But, my lady…” The housekeeper’s protest died when she saw the tears shimmering in Gwenellen’s eyes.

When her husband looked to her for direction, she gave a brisk nod of her head. Sucking in a breath she straightened her shoulders. “I’ll go ahead with some of the servants and have a fire started. It will take some goading, but I’m sure we can persuade the villagers to put aside their fears long enough to do their duty by the laird.”

By the time Drymen and Gwenellen stepped into the room there was a fire burning on the hearth, and the chaise was draped in furs. The warrior gently settled his laird in the nest of fur before taking a step back. “The people will want to pay their respects.”

Gwenellen nodded, grateful for this man’s quiet strength.

As he took his leave, his wife approached with a basin of water and several linen squares. “I’d like to clean him up, my lady, before the people see him.”

“Thank you, Mistress MacLean. I’ll do it.”

“It won’t be an easy thing to see his wounds, my lady.”

“Nay. It won’t be easy. But what he did was so brave, how can I do less? I need to do this, don’t you see?”

“I understand.” The housekeeper stood a minute, watching as Gwenellen wrung out a cloth and began to wash the blood. Then with a sigh she turned away and began directing the servants. “I’ll need a fresh tunic and plaid for the laird. Ale for the warriors. And a meal laid out in the great hall for the villagers who will no doubt remain through the night.”

There was a flurry of footsteps as the servants scattered. And then there was only silence as Gwenellen bent to the gruesome task of cleaning the body of the man she loved.

The man she loved.

Her hands stilled, and she felt a fresh round of tears building.

“Oh, Andrew. I never thought to find love here in this place. I foolishly thought your world a place of hatred and fear. A place of hunger and cold. Of chaos and bloody battles. It is all that, but it’s also a place of goodness and great kindness. A place where people work together to overcome whatever obstacles lie in the path of life’s journey. A place of laughter and love and such incredible joy.” Tears spilled over and trailed down her cheeks. “I would have been content to remain in this place forever, as long as you were here with me. But now…” She covered her face with her hands and began sobbing. “Now I can’t bear the thought of being here without you.”

“Nor… I…without…you, Imp.”

At the raspy, whispered words her tears fell faster. “I thought it a blessing to be able to speak with those who have crossed to that other world. But now I know it to be a curse.” Blinded by tears she dipped the cloth in water and began scrubbing viciously at the blood that stained his chest.

“Burns…like…fire…of…hell.”

“You see? How can I bear to hear your voice and not be able to hold you? To love you? Oh, Andrew, what am I to do without…?” She went very still as the meaning of his words dawned on her. “But it can’t hurt you now. You’re beyond pain.”

“Someone neglected…to tell the pain.”

“Andrew?” She studied his eyes, tightly closed. Did the lids flicker? She lay a hand on his chest. Did it give a feeble movement? Or was she imagining it?

She pressed her ear to his lips. There. The smallest hint of a breath. Anxious now, she listened to his chest. Was that a heartbeat? Aye, she was certain of it. Though it was feeble, thready, it was a sign of life.

“Oh, Andrew.” She threw her arms around him and felt him flinch in pain.

“Help me, Imp.”

“I’ll do whatever I can, my love.” Desperate, she looked around for some guidance. “Father. Can you summon Mum and Gram?” Hearing no response she called, “Morgan Ross. Please wake the holy women who dwell in this place.”

In the silence that followed she whispered, “I know you’re here, for I feel your presence. I know so little about healing. Please show me what to do.”

There was a shimmer of light, and then, as it began to take shape, she recognized Morgan Ross standing beside her.

Her eyes glistened with fresh tears. “He’s alive, my laird. Your son is alive.”

“Aye, lass. I told you he was a warrior.”

“You must show me what to do to help him.”

“I’ve brought the finest healers I know.”
Light began shimmering all around them, and Gwenellen watched as robed women took up positions around the chaise. Then she spotted her father standing just behind her, peering over her shoulder at the man who lay as still as death on the chaise.

“Father.” She gave a sigh of relief. “I knew you’d come.”

“How could I not, my daughter? And I’ve summoned help.”

There came a sound as of a great rush of wind, and Nola and Wilona appeared, their jewel-colored gowns billowing about them.

“Oh, Mum. Gram.” Gwenellen fell into their arms and embraced them fiercely before turning to the shadowy figures who had gathered around. “I ask your help, for Lord Andrew Ross hovers near death.”

“You need not fear death, lass.” One of the holy women spoke for the others. “If this man has lived an honorable life, his time in eternity will be a time of great peace.”

“You don’t understand.” Gwenellen chewed on her lip to keep it from trembling. “I don’t think I could bear losing him so soon after discovering just how I feel about him.”

Her mother placed a hand on her arm. “And just what do you feel about this mortal?”

Gwenellen looked at her mother, then turned to her grandmother. “I love him more than I thought it was possible to love another. I will do whatever it takes to save him.”

“Oh, my darling.” Wilona drew her granddaughter close and pressed a kiss to her temple. “We’ll do what we can. And with so many willing to help, it may be possible to spare the life of this Highlander.”

The two women joined hands before turning to Gwenellen. “Since you are the only one who can see and speak with the spirits, it will be up to you to let us know when the circle is complete.”

Gwenellen watched as the shimmery figures of the holy women grasped hands, then were joined by Morgan Ross, and finally by Gwenellen’s own father, who held his wife’s hand in his with all the tenderness of a caress.

Though she couldn’t see him, Nola felt the whisper of his touch and arched a brow at her daughter, who smiled and nodded.

“It’s Father, Mum. He stands beside you, just as he has since he left our world.” Gwenellen stepped between Morgan and her father, and took hold of their hands. “The circle is now complete.”

Nola and Wilona began to chant the ancient words. Soon the others joined them, lifting their voices to the heavens as they called for healing.

When at last their voices faded, Andrew opened his eyes. Though he was aware of the presence of others in the room, the only one he could see was the honey-haired beauty who walked slowly toward him and dropped to her knees beside the chaise.

Her voice was little more than an awed whisper. “You’re alive.”

“So it would seem. Though, for a little while, I was not here. I was in a place of great light and peace. But I heard your voice, Imp, and knew I couldn’t find joy in an eternity spent without you.” He sat up, and waited for the dizziness to pass. Then he touched a hand to the places where he’d been mortally wounded. There was no pain. There were no marks. And though it made no sense, he knew that what he had experienced was beyond the realm of anything in this world. “Were you harmed, my love?”

My love. The words trickled over her taut nerves like a soothing balm. “A few cuts. I’ll have my mother heal them before she takes her leave of your world.”

Andrew looked beyond her to the beautiful women who stood side by side, watching and listening in silence. “You are Gwenellen’s mother and grandmother?”

“We are.” Nola led her mother closer, and the two women smiled at him. “It seems you have captured my daughter’s heart.”

He got to his feet and caught Gwenellen’s hand, marveling at the sudden rush of heat. “I’m not sure who is the captive and who is the conqueror. But this I know. She is the sunshine that brought light to my darkness. She is the joy that has replaced my sorrow and anger.” He turned to Gwenellen and lifted a hand to her cheek. “If you could find it in your heart to take pity on me, my love, I would ask a favor.”

Gwenellen’s heart was pounding. “Ask it, my lord. I would grant you any favor within my realm.”

“I have no right to ask you to turn your back on the paradise you have described as your home. But if you leave me, the darkness and despair will return and seem all the worse, now that I’ve felt your warmth and light. My beloved Imp, I beg you to stay in this place and be my wife.”

Gwenellen brushed aside the mist that sprang to her eyes. There would be no tears on this joyous occasion.

Seeing them he was quick to add, “I know not what the future will bring. It could be danger, destruction, death. But I give you my word that I’ll do all in my power to shield you from the hardships of my world. And though I can’t promise you paradise, I can promise you undying love.”

She gave him a dazzling smile. “It’s true that the Mystical Kingdom is a paradise. But without you, my love, it would seem a beautiful, empty prison. As for the future, I’ll not worry about what is to come. For now, for the time we have together, I’ll be content with the knowledge that I have the love of the finest man I’ve ever known.”

He gave her a quick, heart-stopping smile. “You’ll stay?”

“How could I leave you, when I’ve found my heart’s delight?”

He drew her close and pressed his mouth to a tangle of hair at her temple. “We’ll send for the village priest, and be wed in the abbey as soon as my warriors return.”

Gwenellen’s smile faded. “I understand your wish to be wed in front of the villagers, for you are laird. But I very much desire to have my sisters and their family, as well as Jeremy and Bessie witness our wedding as well.”

Wilona touched a hand to her granddaughter’s shoulder. “It is possible to do both in the space of but a single heartbeat.”

Gwenellen’s eyes widened. “Of course. What was I thinking? You’ll see to it?”

“I will, my darling.”

While Andrew watched in astonishment, the older woman lifted her arms heavenward and began to chant. He and Gwenellen were suddenly floating high above the earth, soaring over forests and mountains, meadows and villages, until they drifted gently to earth.

When he looked around they were standing in a meadow much like the one in his Highlands. Clustered around a tidy cottage were two handsome warriors wearing the distinctive plaid of their Highland clans, and two beautiful women who could only be the sisters Gwenellen had described.

She fell into their arms and embraced them before introducing them to Andrew.

She caught the arm of a beautiful, fiery-haired woman with green eyes and a beguiling smile much like her own. “This is my sister Allegra.” She linked her arms through those of a tall warrior and a fair-haired lad. “And her husband Merrick, and son Hamish.”

Then she beckoned a raven-haired woman and tall, handsome man to her side. “This is my sister Kylia, and her husband Grant.”

While Andrew acknowledged the introductions, Gwenellen was embraced by a hunched old woman, and then by a tiny man in a frock coat and top hat. There was such warmth and affection in her voice as she introduced Bessie and Jeremy.