The Laird of Stonehaven (16 page)

“That sounds wonderful. But if you dinna mind, I’d like to eat in the kitchen.”

“I dinna mind at all. I’ll be back directly,” she said as she placed a lid on the pot and hurried off.

Blair decided to help herself to the bread while she waited for Maeve to return. She cut herself two large slices and put them on a plate. When she heard a hissing sound, she realized the pot was bubbling over into the fire. Grabbing a cloth, she lifted the lid and gave it a stir,

“What are ye doing?” a shrill voice demanded.

Blair whirled, groaning when she saw Glenda glaring at her.

“Stirring the pot—what does it look like?”

“Ye’re poisoning the food!” Glenda cried.

“What nonsense,” Blair scoffed. “I am merely waiting for Maeve to return with butter to spread on my bread. The pot needed stirring and I stirred it. Make what you want of it.”

“No one here trusts ye. Why did ye not return to yer brother when he came for ye? Ye dinna belong here.”

Glenda’s words clawed deep into Blair’s heart. She had hoped for understanding and perhaps even respect from Graeme’s kinsmen.

“Dinna ye have anything to do, Glenda?” Maeve asked from the doorway. “Ye should show more respect for the laird’s wife. Her healing skills are verra much appreciated by our clansmen.”

“She has bewitched our laird,” Glenda charged. Her voice lowered to a whisper. “I know what goes on in the stillroom. Her spells are pure evil.”

“Pull in your claws, Glenda,” Maeve warned. “Laird Graeme willna stand for yer disrespectful attitude toward his wife. If ye wish to remain in the keep, cease yer jabbering.”

Blair flinched beneath Glenda’s spiteful glare as the woman spun on her heel and stormed off.

“Pay her no heed, lass,” Maeve said. “Glenda is jealous. She hoped to wed Graeme. She didna realize the laird had no intention of wedding her. Glenda isna good enough for Graeme. While he was off fighting in France, she denied no one her favors.” She patted Blair’s shoulder. “Sit down and eat yer bread and butter, lass, while I fetch ye a glass of buttermilk.”

Blair’s appetite had left her. Was Glenda right? Did all Graeme’s kinsmen fear her? She shouldn’t have wed him, no matter how badly her father wanted it. Her own kinsmen did not hate her. They might be in awe of her powers but they did not fear her. Those from other clans who thought her a witch judged her from rumors spread by her brother.

“Eat up, lass,” Maeve urged. “Our laird needs an heir, and it takes a healthy mother to birth a healthy bairn.”

“Did Graeme tell you he wanted an heir?”

“He doesna need to. All men want an heir, and Graeme is no exception.”

Blair ate in silence, contemplating Maeve’s words. She could already be carrying Graeme’s child, though it seemed unlikely. Wouldn’t the spirits have told her if she had conceived? That thought brought another. Had the spirits abandoned her?

Nay, she thought not. Her disturbing dream last night was a vivid reminder that her powers were still very much with her.

Graeme returned late to the keep that night. Blair was already asleep. Since Graeme was reluctant to awaken her, he merely took her in his arms and held her throughout the night.

The following morning he rose before sunup, kissed Blair’s brow and left the bedchamber. After a hasty breakfast, he rode off to Inverness to take the wool to market.

When Blair awoke she sensed even before opening her eyes that Graeme was gone. She rose and prepared for the day, thinking of things she could do to keep herself busy during her husband’s absence.

Blair finished her breakfast and went in search of Alyce. With Graeme away and her brother far from Stonehaven, she thought it a good time to venture out to gather willow bark.

“Where are ye going, lass?” Stuart asked as she slipped through the door.

Blair hadn’t seen Graeme’s uncle enter the hall and spun around at the sound of his voice. “I’m going to fetch Alyce to accompany me while I collect willow bark.

Stuart frowned. “Did Graeme give ye leave to go?

“I saw no need to ask him.”

“Ye canna go without a guard, lass. I will go with ye. Find Alyce while I fetch my claymore. Mind ye, dinna leave without me.”

Stuart hurried off before Blair could protest the necessity of having a guard. Deciding to accept the inevitable, she left to find Alyce. She found the tiring woman with the alewife, dispensing herbs for the new batch of ale the woman was brewing.

“Have ye need of me, lass?” Alyce asked when she saw Blair.

“Aye. ’Tis a fine day. I thought we might collect willow bark.”

“I will fetch a basket and yer cloak,” Alyce said.

“Stuart insists on accompanying us, though I canna imagine why we would need him. Meet us in the hall.”

Alyce’s eyes lit up. “Stuart is a strong, braw mon. He is but thinking of yer welfare.”

A short time later, Blair, Alyce and Stuart set out along a well-trod path that led to thickly wooded hills and the loch beyond.

Blair stopped to gather heather growing on the moor while Stuart kept watch. She loved heather, and filled her basket before Stuart reminded her it was willow bark, not flowers, she should be collecting.

“Follow me, lady. I know exactly where to find the willow trees ye’re seeking. They grow near the loch.”

Blair followed Stuart along a path that led through thick forest. Alyce trailed behind them.

“I dinna like this,” Blair said to Alyce, casting a covert glance over her shoulder. “Something doesna feel right.”

Alyce raised her head and listened. “Naught seems amiss, lass. Nevertheless, we will leave as soon as we gather the bark we need.”

The wood was bursting with new growth, and Blair saw many herbs she would return to gather at another time. Besides fenugreek and mallow, she noted quantities of wild parsley, red clover and mint.

When they reached the loch, Stuart used his claymore to slice long slivers of bark from willow trees growing near the shore. They had scarcely filled their basket when dark clouds rolled in from the sea. The day had suddenly turned from gloriously sunny to ominously dark and threatening.

“A storm is brewing, lass,” Stuart warned. “We must leave now if we wish to reach the keep afore the storm breaks.” Without waiting for a reply, Stuart urged the women toward the path that would take them back to the keep.

Suddenly Blair stopped and tilted her head, listening to the wind sloughing through the trees. The wind was speaking to her. The words were indistinct at first, but when she concentrated on the pattern and cadence, the warning was clear.

“Danger!”

“Alyce, Stuart, danger!” she cried as she lifted her skirts and prepared to run. “Flee! Back to the keep.”

Gripping his sword, Stuart took a defensive stance, determined to shield the women from harm.

“There is no time for that!” Blair cried. “Run!”

The warning came too late. Five men wielding swords and battle-axes emerged from the cover of the trees, surrounding the small party.

“Who are ye and what do ye want?” Stuart bellowed. “Get out of our way.”

“We’ve come for the witch,” shouted the man who appeared to be their leader.

“Who are ye?” Stuart asked. “Be ye MacKays? Where are yer plaids? Are ye afeared to show yer colors, lads?”

“We fear naught. Move aside, old mon,” the leader warned. “We want the witch.”

Stuart swung his claymore, his expression grim. “Watch who ye’re calling a witch, lad. If ye hurt her, ye’ll answer to the Campbell laird, and ye know as well as I that Graeme will hunt ye down like the animals ye are. He is overly fond of the lass.”

Two of the five men retreated, as if considering Stuart’s threat, but the leader merely laughed. “Ye dinna frighten us, old mon. I repeat, move aside.”

Without pausing to consider the danger to himself, Stuart courageously lunged at the leader. Immediately he was engaged with not one but five men.

Blair sucked in her breath as she watched Stuart being driven back. This couldn’t be happening! If she had a sword, she would join the fray herself. Daring a glance at Alyce, Blair saw the older woman’s face go white and realized it was up to her to do something.

When Blair felt the first drops of rain splash against her face, she looked up at the turbulent dark sky and prayed for a miracle. Streaks of lightning lanced through the clouds, followed by a deafening roar. Her mouth moved in silent entreaty as she sent a plea to the spirits.

Suddenly a scream rent the air. Blair cried out as Stuart fell, struck down by their assailants. Blood spilled from what appeared to be a mortal wound in his chest. Alyce flew to his side, cradling his head in her arms to protect him from further assault. Before Blair could reach Stuart, the five assailants started edging toward her, half afraid of her yet apparently determined to see their mission through.

Blair turned and ran, with the attackers in hot pursuit. Another bolt of lightning struck nearby. Blair heard a loud crack as a tree fell to the ground. Glancing behind her, she saw smoke spiraling from its shattered branches. Almost simultaneously a clap of thunder shook the earth beneath her feet, and she turned and fled deeper into the forest, her enemies hard on her heels.

As the men gained on her, she continued to pray for divine intervention. She was but a length or two ahead of her pursuers when her prayers were answered. Lightning lit up the dark sky as another jagged bolt streaked toward earth. The bolt struck a nearby tree, and her feet took wing. An ungodly scream brought her spinning around. She gasped when she saw what the destructive forces of nature had wrought.

The tree, split by lightning, had fallen on two of the men pursuing her, crushing them beneath its heavy weight. One quick glance told her the men were beyond help. The other three men were staring at her as if the accident had been her doing. Their fear was so palpable they were shaking.

“Ye did this, witch! Ye are pure evil!” one man shouted.

Blair didn’t deny it. At that particular moment in time she welcomed the men’s fear of her. “Stay where you are, else I’ll summon the forces of evil!” she threatened.

The three remaining assailants’ faces drained of all color as they glanced at their fallen comrades. Then they turned and fled. Blair nearly collapsed with relief as they disappeared amidst a tremendous roar of thunder and a white-hot flash of lightning. Somewhere in the distance she heard another tree crash to the ground but paid it no heed. She was worried about Stuart and needed to return to him as quickly as possible.

She raced back along the path, her heart pounding with dread when she saw Alyce bending over an inert Stuart. The older woman looked at Blair through stricken eyes, while tears mixed with rain streamed down her pale face “Thank God ye’re safe,” Alyce whispered.

Blair dropped to her knees beside Stuart, troubled by the great amount of blood pooling beneath him. “How is he?”

“ ’Tis bad, lass. The wound in his chest looks to be mortal, and he has lost a great deal of blood. The blade must have sliced something vital. Can ye help him, lass? Stuart is a good mon, I dinna want him to die.”

Blair’s spirits plummeted as she examined Stuart’s wound. It would take a miracle to save him; he seemed more dead than alive. But this seemed to be a day of miracles. “I can try,” she whispered. “Meanwhile, it wouldna hurt to pray.”

Painfully aware of what it would cost her, Blair knew she would do everything within her power to save Stuart. Graeme was exceptionally fond of his uncle. Tearing aside his shirt, Blair placed both her hands on his wound and silently implored God to empower her with enough strength to bring Stuart back.

Her palms began to tingle and burn as Stuart’s warm blood seeped between her fingers. The sensation traveled up her arms, and her entire body began to tremble. Bone-wrenching pain traveled through her hands and into her body. The pain flayed her until she was all but consumed by it. Then her eyes rolled back in her head and she fell forward over Stuart’s supine body.

As if from a great distance she heard Alyce calling to her. “Speak to me, lass.”

Blair stirred as the pain slowly subsided. Lifting herself away from Stuart, she stared at her hands. They were covered in blood. She wiped them on her skirt and returned her gaze to Stuart.

“Ye did it, lass!” Alyce cried. “The bleeding has stopped. Ye healed him.”

The wound had indeed stopped bleeding, but Blair was too spent to do more than nod.

“Stay here with him while I fetch help from the keep,” Alyce said. “Ye need time to recuperate.”

“Wait,” Blair said. “I saw some wild dill growing nearby. Fetch it and sprinkle the seeds on the open wound.”

Alyce cast a worried glance at Stuart. “Are ye sure? We need to get him back to the keep as soon as possible.”

“Color is returning to Stuart’s face even as we speak. I think he’ll be fine, but infection could undo all I’ve done here. Dill seed will help prevent infection.”

Alyce rose. “Aye, lass, I will fetch the dill seeds.”

Blair sat back on her heels, nearly too exhausted to breathe. She couldn’t have moved even if the assailants had come back for her. She closed her eyes and placed her hand on Stuart’s chest again, needing to reassure herself that he still lived.

Suddenly he stirred, moaned and opened his eyes. “ ’Tis raining.”

“Aye.”

“What . . . happened?”

“You were wounded. How do you feel?”

“Like . . . the . . . very devil. Am I . . . dying?”

Blair summoned a smile. “Nay. You’ll live if I have anything to say about it. What would Graeme and Heath do without you?”

“Tell me . . . how . . .”

“We were ambushed by five men. You fought them when they tried to carry me off.”

Stuart frowned. “All five?”

“Aye. Ye were verra brave.”

“Did I kill them?”

“Nay. Two died when they were crushed beneath a tree that had been struck by lightning. At that point the other three decided to flee.”

Stuart searched her face. “Did ye use yer powers to vanquish them, lass?”

Alyce’s return spared Blair from replying. “I hurried as fast as I could,” Alyce panted. “Here are the dill seeds ye wanted.”