The Laird of Stonehaven (18 page)

Graeme’s courageous steed gave his all to his master. The beast was covered in foam and blowing hard when Graeme entered the unguarded gate and reined in before the keep. He dismounted and flew up the stairs, not surprised to find the hall deserted. Everyone would be at the site of the fire.

He called Blair’s name as he raced to the kitchen, the most likely place for a fire to break out. Maeve rushed forth to meet him. Her face was smeared with tears and ashes as she fell into Graeme’s arms.

“Where is the fire?” Graeme demanded.

“The stillroom,” Maeve said between sobs. “Oh, laird, ’tis bad. Verra, verra bad.”

“Blair! Where is my wife?”

Maeve’s wails grew louder. “Gone. No one could survive that inferno.”

“Where are my guardsmen?”

“Throwing water on the fire, for all the good it will do.”

Graeme rushed out through the kitchen door and skidded to a halt when he saw flames shooting up through the thatched roof of the stillroom. The building was an inferno. Despite the great amount of water being handed man to man from the well to the stillroom, it seemed unlikely anyone inside could survive.

Graeme could not let Blair go like this. He had to save her. Taking a deep breath, he ran toward the door. Aiden grasped his arm, stopping him in midstride.

“Ye canna go inside, mon. ’Tis certain death.”

Chills ran up Graeme’s spine when he recognized the truth of Aiden’s words. A mass of flames filled the place where the door had once stood, and the thatched roof looked ready to fall in. But he couldn’t stand there and do nothing while Blair was being consumed alive by flames. Then he remembered the window at the rear of the building. While everyone was busy throwing water on the fire, Graeme raced around to the rear, praying for a miracle.

A miracle was what Graeme found. Blair’s face, grayed by soot and contorted by pain, was visible in the window. Desperately he called her name, but she appeared too dazed to reply.

“Can you climb out, lass?” Graeme asked.

This time his voice must have gotten through to her, for she focused on him and shook her head. Cursing, Graeme glanced around for something to stand on.

“Here! This might help,” Heath said, dragging an old hay wagon behind him.

Graeme didn’t question how Heath had known what he needed; he merely nodded his gratitude and set about rescuing Blair. Climbing atop the wagon, he grasped Blair’s arms and pulled her through the window. Fire had eaten away the bottom half of her gown, and he used his hands to beat out the flames. Then he leaped to the ground with Blair in his arms and rolled out of harm’s way moments before the roof caved in.

Blair lay in bed while Alyce spread alkanet salve on her legs. Fortunately, Maeve kept the salve in the medicine chest she stored in the kitchen for emergencies. The burns weren’t serious and were unlikely to leave scars, but Alyce insisted on treating the reddened flesh. When Graeme had carried Blair into the keep, Alyce had set to work, immediately, stripping off her charred clothing and washing away the thick layer of soot and ashes coating her skin.

“Do ye hurt, lass?” Alyce asked.

“The burns on my legs sting but not unbearably. The salve is soothing. Thank you.” She dragged in a ragged sigh. “Losing my herbs and remedies in the fire is a terrible blow. ’Twill be difficult to replace them.”

“Be glad ye have yer life,” Alyce scolded. “Do ye know how the fire started? Could one of yer candles have done it?”

“Nay. I wasna using candles. ’Twas light enough to see without them. Where is Graeme?” she asked, suddenly aware of her husband’s absence.

“Maeve is bandaging his hands.”

“Graeme was injured?”

“Aye, his hands were blistered beating out the flames on your clothing. I suspect he will be here as soon as Maeve finishes with him.”

Blair started to rise. “I must go to him. I want to know how badly he’s hurt.”

Alyce gently eased her back against the pillow. “Nay, lass, ’tis best ye rest now. Ye had a harrowing experience. Ye nearly died. If not for Graeme, ye would have perished in the fire. As it was, everyone thought ye were lost to us.”

“How is she?” Graeme asked from the doorway.

“She’s going to be fine, thanks to ye,” Alyce said. “Come in, laird, I was just leaving.”

Graeme stepped into the bedchamber and approached the bed. Alyce brushed past him and out the door, closing it softly behind her.

“Your poor hands!” Blair cried, horrified by the thick bandages covering his fingers.

“They will heal,” Graeme assured her. “A few blisters and a scar or two willna bother me overmuch.”

“But you were hurt saving me,” Blair whispered. “How did you know I needed you?”

Graeme’s blue eyes darkened with emotion. “ ’Twas strange how it happened. Something told me I was needed at Stonehaven. Did you summon me?”

“I did need you, Graeme, but I didna think you could arrive in time.” She shuddered. “Without you I couldna have survived the first trial.”

Graeme sat on the edge of the bed. “Trial? What are you talking about?”

“The Prophecy says a Faery Woman will face trials by fire, water and stone. It has been thus throughout the ages. Thanks to you, I survived the fire.”

“I thought the only way you would lose your powers was if you loved someone who doesna return your love.”

“Nay, there are also trials to endure. Fire was the first one; there are still water and stone.”

When he raised his hand to protest, Blair let out a cry and grasped both his hands in hers. “ ’Tis my fault. You were hurt because of me.”

“Dinna make too much of it, Blair. They will heal. How bad are the burns on your legs?”

“Not bad at all. My skirts took the worst of it. The skin from my ankles to my knees is scorched and reddened, but Alyce said there will be no scarring.”

“ ’Tis a miracle you survived. Someone was looking after you. It appears we have a fire-starter at Stonehaven, but fear not, I intend to unearth the culprit.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Sift through the ashes for clues, for one thing. Think you the fire could have been started by a candle?”

“I lit no candles, and I let the fire in the hearth go out after I boiled the willow bark. I fell asleep while waiting for the juices to drain. I awakened to an inferno.”

Graeme tried to pull his hands from hers. “I’d best be on my way if I’m to find the criminal in our midst.”

Blair refused to release them. “Wait. Dinna go yet. Let me do this for you.”

Graeme slanted her a puzzled look. “Do what?”

“I can heal your hands.”

Graeme stared at her. “Like you healed Stuart? Aiden told me about the attack. Stuart suffered a near fatal wound but was miraculously cured. These powers of yours frighten me, Blair. I dinna want you practicing black arts. ’Tis dangerous. Did the fire teach you naught?”

“There is naught of evil in my healing,” Blair argued. “My powers come from God. Would you rather I had allowed Stuart to die?”

A flash of pain passed over Graeme’s features. “Nay, I wouldna. I dinna know what to think or how to handle these ‘gifts’ of yours. I wouldna want you to die because of them.”

“I canna stop healing, Graeme. I would be worse than dead if I did. Close your eyes.”

“Why?”

“Just do as I say and dinna try to pull your hands from mine no matter what happens. Your hands are important to you. They will be badly scarred if you dinna let me help you.”

“I dinna believe in witchcraft.”

Blair ignored him. “Close your eyes and think pleasant thoughts. Your aura isna right for healing. You must believe in me, Graeme. Believe that I can help you. Believe in the power of healing.”

Blair looked down on Graeme’s bandaged hands, which now rested in her palms. Much to her relief, Graeme’s aura changed from gray to light blue, though she doubted he was thinking pleasant thoughts. Exhaustion etched lines in his face, and as he relaxed beneath her soothing touch, the lines smoothed.

Blair began her incantation beneath her breath, so that Graeme couldn’t hear what she was saying. Her hands began to tingle and grow warm, and pain shot up her arms, until her whole body trembled with it. She felt Graeme try to pull his hands away, but she wouldn’t allow it, gripping his bandaged fingers with all her strength. Just when the pain became unbearable, she cried out and fell back, releasing Graeme’s hands at the same time.

“Och, Blair, what have you done?” Graeme cried. “Are you all right, lass? Speak to me. What happened just now?”

Speech slowly returned to Blair. When her vision cleared, she reached for Graeme’s right hand.

Graeme pulled it away. “What are you about? What happened just now? You appeared to be in some kind of trance.” His eyes widened. “ ’Twas a spell! I willna have it, Blair. You willna work your magic on me. Is that clear?”

“Please, Graeme, give me your hand,” Blair said calmly. “I merely want to undo your bandage.”

“Am I supposed to believe you’ve healed me?” Graeme demanded.

“Indulge me,” Blair whispered, “just this once.”

“Verra well, have it your way. Maeve willna be pleased to see her work undone, but I will do as you say if only to disprove the powers you claim.”

Blair began to unwind the bandage covering Graeme’s right hand. When the hand was fully exposed, the incredulous look on Graeme’s face told its own story. Mayhap now he would believe in her healing powers.

Graeme gazed at his hand in stunned disbelief. Not an hour past he had watched Maeve spread salve on his burns. Now there was not so much as redness on his palm. The pain was gone, and the skin was smooth but for the calluses that had existed before. Grim-faced, he tore away the bandage on his left hand, flexed his fingers and held it up to the light to make sure he wasn’t imagining things. How could this be?

“You
are
a witch,” he said in a voice full of frustration and no little amount of fear.

“Nay! How can you say such a thing?”

He held up his unblemished hands. “How do you explain this? No healer, no matter how skilled, could do what you just did.”

“I am a Faery Woman. My powers extend beyond simple healing.”

He shoved to his feet. “Stop it!”

“Stop what?”

“Whatever it is you just did. Rumors are already spreading about Stuart’s miraculous recovery.” He thrust his hands before her face. “What do you suppose will happen when word gets out about this? More attempts will be made on your life. Do you value your life so little that you would openly court danger?”

Hurt dimmed Blair’s violet eyes. “I am what I am, Graeme. Aye, I have powers, but I use them to help others. After you saved my life, I wanted to help you.”

“At what cost?” Graeme charged. “You suffered, did you not? I felt your body stiffen, heard you cry out and knew that what you were doing hurt you in some way. How long can you continue to summon powerful forces without damaging your health?”

Blair lowered her gaze. “I canna think beyond the present. What will be will be.”

“Nay!” Graeme bellowed. “I willna accept that. If I am to protect you, you must promise to confine your healing to dispensing herbs and mixing salves. No more ‘miraculous’ cures.”

“I canna do that, Graeme. As long as I have powers, I will continue to use them.” She peered up at him through lowered lids. “The day I stop healing people is the day you place me in my grave.”

Graeme shuddered, his expression grim. “The stillroom is destroyed and it willna be rebuilt. Think you I want your death?”

The determined glint in Blair’s eyes softened. “Nay, I never thought such a thing. But you canna change me, Graeme. Father tried and failed.”

“Why can you not love me? ’Twould save us both a lot of anguish.”

“You
want
me to lose my powers. That has ever been your goal where I am concerned. You know you dinna love me and never will.”

“I canna love you, not if I wish to protect you.”

Blair said naught, her expression sad as she blinked back tears.

Graeme groaned as he felt one of the walls protecting his heart crack. Hurting Blair was the last thing he wanted to do, but she didn’t seem to realize the danger she faced. Someone had to keep a level head, and it appeared he was the only one who cared enough to keep Blair safe.

He sat down beside her and raised her chin. “Blair, look at me. Do you want to live, lass?”

“Aye.”

“Do you want children?”

Her eyes lit up. “Aye, if God wills.”

“Then you must do as I say. Mix your herbal remedies, but dinna ever do what you did for Stuart and me again.”

She looked so forlorn, so utterly defeated, that Graeme could not help himself. Lowering his head, he kissed her sweet lips, never intending for his conciliatory gesture to go any farther. But the moment their mouths touched, an aching need welled up inside him. The possibility of losing Blair horrified him. He could not bear the thought of life without Blair. His fingers curled around her narrow shoulders as he deepened the kiss, his tongue thrusting deep to taste her sweet essence.

He felt himself grow thick and harden and would have taken her then and there had he not felt her go limp against him. It was not her surrender he sensed, but her weariness. Only a beast would want to couple with a woman who had just escaped death and was still reeling from exhaustion. Furthermore, it was obvious that healing his burns had taken a great deal out of her.

Reluctantly he released her and broke off the kiss. “I’d best find my own bed. ’Tis late and there’s much to be done tomorrow. I willna rest until I find the fire-starter in our midst. You can be verra sure he or she will be severely punished. Stay in bed until your legs are healed and Alyce says ’tis safe for you to move around.”

He walked to the door, stopped abruptly and turned, raising his hands and flexing his fingers. “ ’Tis truly a miracle. Thank you. And thank you for saving Stuart.”

Then he opened the door and strode through, leaving Blair with mixed emotions. He had demanded that she stop healing, then thanked her for helping him and Stuart. There was no understanding the man.

Graeme said he had known that she needed him. How could he know if there wasn’t a strong connection between them? Was God playing tricks on her? Twice now Graeme had saved her from dire circumstances, and both times he claimed he had answered her summons. Did Graeme love her?