The Laird of Stonehaven (22 page)

“What makes you think anything is going on?” Blair asked softly, too exhausted to raise her voice.

Graeme looked pointedly at the candles cradled against Alyce’s ample bosom. “Were you casting a spell?”

“Blair did naught wrong,” Alyce attempted to explain.

“Be gone, woman!” Graeme roared. “I wish to speak to my wife in private.”

Alyce scooted out the door, closing it softly behind her. Graeme returned his gaze to Blair. “Tell me I am wrong. Tell me you werena using magic.”

Clamping her lips tightly shut, Blair stared at Graeme. She didn’t want to lie.

“Tell me, Blair, and please make it the truth.”

“I canna. Just believe I would never harm you or anyone.”

Graeme stared at her for the space of a heartbeat, then turned away, directing his gaze at the rain beating against the window. “ ’Tis odd,” he mused. “The day began with such promise. I hope this blasted rain stops before I leave. Travel is difficult during unsettled weather.”

“Forget the rain. There is naught anyone can do about it. Shall we return to the hall? ’Tis nearly time for the evening meal.”

Graeme turned away from the window and directed his glittering gaze at Blair. “Is there aught you want to tell me, lass?”

Blair knew that lying to Graeme would likely put an end to their relationship, but she had to save his life, even if it cost her Graeme’s respect. Sighing despondently, she followed Graeme to the hall and took her place beside him at the high table.

The ferocious storm that had come out of nowhere seemed to be the topic of conversation among all those present.

“ ’Tis eerie, I tell ye,” Stuart ventured. He sent a furtive look at Blair before continuing. “And passing strange the way the storm came so suddenly. I hope the hail hasna damaged the crops.”

“Aye. If the rain doesna stop soon, it will flood the valley and threaten our sheep,” Aiden warned.

“The rain will likely end tonight,” Graeme maintained. “Storms this fierce rarely last more than a few hours.”

Blair lowered her eyes, unable to meet Graeme’s probing gaze. She knew he was suspicious of her and was withholding judgment until he had some kind of proof. Little did he know that proof existed in the downpour that was even now raising the level of the loch. She prayed he would never know.

That night Graeme slept in his own chamber. Blair heard his footsteps pause before her door before moving on. It seemed he was as restless and sleepless as she.

Graeme couldn’t escape the feeling that Blair was involved in something he would not approve of. Had she been using magic, against his express wishes? He had deliberately kept himself from her bed in order to think without being distracted, but it hadn’t been easy. This morning he ached like the very devil for his willful wife. He was leaving Stonehaven soon, and God only knew when he would return. It all depended upon the king and his reason for bringing the Highland lairds together in one place.

Graeme glanced out the window, his brow furrowing when he saw that the storm was as fierce as it had been yesterday. The courtyard was flooding, the water already ankle deep. When was it going to end?

Graeme went to the hall to break his fast, not surprised by the large number of men with naught to do but talk, dice and drink ale. No one wanted to venture outdoors.

Graeme ate his porridge and joined Heath and Stuart, who were warming their backsides by the hearth.

“ ’Tis wicked outside,” Stuart commented. “ ’Tis as if God Himself has sent a deluge to punish us for our sins.”

“Or else a witch brought this upon us,” Aiden muttered.

“What did you say?”

A racket at the door forestalled Aiden’s reply.

“I wonder who is out and about in this wretched weather,” Graeme muttered.

Four villagers, three men and a woman, staggered into the hall.

“Warm yourselves by the fire,” Graeme directed. “What brings you to the keep?”

“ ’Tis the witch,” the first man spat. “If ye dinna stop her, the village will be flooded and our crops ruined.”

“Are you referring to my wife?” Graeme asked coolly.

“Aye. No one, not even our elders, has seen anything like this before. ’Tis unnatural, I tell ye.”

The woman pushed back the hood of her sodden cloak. It was Gunna, the midwife.

“I warned ye about the witch, laird. ’Tis not just the deluge she has wrought, but other things as well.”

“Like what?” Graeme asked.

“Grant’s goat died suddenly. And Murray’s wife took sick. Then Meg’s cow went dry. Now this rain. ’Tis no coincidence, I tell ye. ’Tis the witch’s doing.”

Graeme saw Blair enter the hall and tried to warn her, but it was too late. She had seen the small gathering and hurried over to join them.

“What’s amiss?”

“There she be!” Gunna crowed, pointing a bony finger at Blair. “We dinna want her kind here.”

Blair’s steps faltered. Then she seemed to pull herself together. Graeme could almost see her spine stiffen.

“These good people seem to think you have done something to harm them,” he said.

“Why would I wish to harm your kinsmen?” Blair answered. “Have I not treated their injuries and cured their ailments?”

“Our crops are nigh ruined, Grant’s goat is dead, Meg’s cow went dry, and Murray’s wife is sick, and her the heartiest soul alive.”

“You think I am responsible?” Blair asked, clearly aghast.

Graeme placed a protective arm around her and pulled her close. “My wife had naught to do with the happenings in the village. Warm yourselves and have a bite to eat, then return to your homes and stay there. I’m sure the rain will stop soon and your crops willna suffer.”

“I wouldna hurt them,” Blair whispered after the delegation shuffled off. “You believe me, do you not?”

Graeme hauled her off to a private corner where they couldn’t be overheard. “I believe you did naught to hurt my kinsmen, but I also know that something unnatural took place in the stillroom. I canna protect you if you dinna tell me what you did.”

“You’re going to have to trust me, Graeme,” Blair said.

His expression turned cold. “ ’Tis best you tell me now so I can head off trouble before I leave Stonehaven. Tell me you had naught to do with the dead goat, the dry cow and Murray’s sick wife.”

Blair made a sound of disgust deep in her throat. “Really, Graeme, think you I would stoop to such attacks against the villagers?”

“I’m beginning to think I dinna really know you. I dinna like secrets, lass.”

“Do you still intend to go to Inverness?”

“You know I do. I canna disobey the king’s orders.”

She turned to leave, but Graeme wouldn’t allow it. Too many questions remained, and he wanted answers. Grasping her waist, he kept her pinned to his side.

“Mayhap the rain will keep you at Stonehaven,” she said.

He sent her an inscrutable look. “Even if I must delay my leaving by a day or two, make no mistake, I
will
leave.”

“I am sorry your kinsmen fear me,” Blair said. “I wouldna be surprised if MacKay and Niall are still spreading rumors about me.”

“Aye, ’tis true enough,” Graeme agreed. “Sit down and break your fast while I try to placate the delegation from the village. We canna afford to let this get out of hand.”

“Did ye speak with her?” Gunna asked when Graeme joined them. “Did ye tell her to make the rain stop?”

Graeme might have blamed Blair for many things, but bringing down torrents of rain wasn’t one of them. No mortal was capable of summoning the forces of nature.

“My wife didna bring on the rain, nor can she stop it,” Graeme insisted. “Go home and tell your families they have naught to fear from Blair.”

“She should have burned in the fire,” Gunna muttered.

“What did you say?” Graeme demanded.

“ ’Tis true. ’Tis common knowledge someone set fire to the stillroom with yer wife inside. Give her to the MacKay if he will still have her. There was a legal betrothal between them.”

“Where did you hear that?” Graeme asked. Was naught that went on in the keep private?

“Be quiet, Gunna,” the leader warned. “Ye dinna want to anger the laird.”

“Och, sometimes my mouth runs away with me,” Gunna said.

“We’d best be getting back to our families,” the leader cut in. “If the loch rises any more, we will be forced to move to higher ground.”

If the loch rises any higher, it will wash out the bridge,
Graeme thought.
And if the storm continues to rage unabated, not even a boat will be safe in the turbulent water; which would mean I cannot leave Stonehaven.

Graeme cast a speculative glance at Blair. Was she or wasn’t she responsible for the drenching rain that was creating such havoc? She hadn’t wanted him to leave Stonehaven, had begged him to ignore the king’s summons. Had she brought the rains to prevent him from leaving? Nay, he refused to accept it. If he believed such a thing, his perception of Blair would change forever.

Graeme’s thoughts were interrupted when Aiden entered the hall, soaked to the skin, his trews clinging to rock-hard thighs and his hair plastered to his head. “Graeme! I just came from the valley. ’Tis bad, mon. Verra bad.”

“For God’s sake, spit it out!”

“The valley is flooding. The livestock must be moved to high ground right away.”

Graeme spit out a curse. It would take several days to drive the livestock into the hills. His kinsmen and their livelihood came first; the king would have to understand why he had absented himself from the meeting.

Men scrambled for their rain gear after Graeme’s tersely issued orders. Graeme paused a moment to speak with Blair before he followed them out into the raging storm.

“You may have your wish, after all, wife,” he growled. “If I find you had a hand in this, naught will save you from my wrath.”

The rain continued. Men straggled back to the keep a few at a time to rest, then went back out into the turbulent weather. Blair heard that the water hadn’t yet reached the village and was glad. She hadn’t intended to cause upheaval in the village or among Graeme’s kinsmen.

Graeme did not return to the keep for four days. When he staggered in, his eyes were deeply shadowed and his skin was sallow and wrinkled from constant exposure to water. His plaid was sodden and his trews were plastered to his skin. He all but collapsed onto the nearest bench, resting his head in his hands. Graeme did not wear defeat well.

Blair rushed to attend him. She took his plaid and spread it to dry before the hearth. “You must eat and rest. Why didna you return to the keep like the others?”

“No time,” he growled.

She attempted to brush a strand of wet hair from his eyes, but he grasped her wrist and flung it away. “Dinna touch me! Leave me be.”

“What is it?”

He looked up; his anger was so fierce that Blair flinched, retreating beneath his fury. “Dinna lie, Blair. ’Twas you! You didna want me to go to Inverness so you brought this affliction down on us. You summoned evil spirits to destroy me and all I hold dear.”

“Nay! I meant no harm to you or your kinsmen.”

“Did you not? Even as we speak, water is rising to the cotters’ doorsteps. I told them to come to the keep if the loch rises any higher.”

“I’m sorry,” Blair whispered. She hadn’t thought beyond saving Graeme’s life.

“You got your wish,” Graeme charged. “There is no way I can go to Inverness now. The bridges have washed away, the boats are smashed to smithereens, and the loch is too dangerous to negotiate until the raging water subsides.”

“I couldna let you go to your death,” Blair whispered.

He squeezed her wrist, his expression cold, his eyes blazing with pure malice. He was so angry, Blair feared he would strike her. She flinched and tried to pull away.

“I didna want to believe it of you, Blair, but I can no longer deny the fact that you possess supernatural powers. I know now that you are capable of evil.”

“I am guilty of naught but trying to keep you alive,” Blair cried.

The cold, dead calm in his eyes frightened her. If he’d once had tender feelings for her, they no longer existed.

“Your heedless action brought disaster and suffering. Get out of my sight!”

She reached out to him. He pushed her away. “Dinna touch me. Go away. I dinna want you near me.”

Blair nearly doubled over in pain. Nothing had ever hurt as much as Graeme’s cruel dismissal. She backed away, then turned and fled down the stairs to the stillroom. She had to try to undo what she had wrought. She couldn’t bear the weight of Graeme’s hatred.

Graeme was literally shaking with rage. From the beginning he had defended Blair against her enemies. Though it hadn’t taken him long to realize she did indeed possess certain powers, he’d been convinced there was no evil in her. But this . . . she had all but admitted she had used witchcraft to bring the storm that had caused such havoc among his people.

Graeme recalled Blair’s warning but still refused to believe his life was in danger. What could happen to him in Inverness? He’d been there many times in the past.

Graeme groaned when he saw Glenda approaching with a tray of food. He wasn’t in the mood for idle talk.

“Ye should eat,” Glenda said, setting a bowl of steaming cock-a-leekie soup before him.

“Thank you,” Graeme muttered with as much civility as he could muster. He was hungry as well as wet and exhausted and disillusioned. Never had he been as disappointed in another human being as he was with Blair.

Glenda returned with a blanket and spread it over Graeme’s shoulders. “Ye mustna catch a chill, Graeme.” She hovered over him, then said, “I heard what ye said to Blair. I warned ye about her. Yer wife is a witch.”

“Leave off, Glenda.”

Glenda was not to be denied. “What do ye intend to do with her?”

“I dinna know. Can I please eat in peace?”

“Aye, laird. I will be waiting when ye’re ready for me. Ye have but to ask.”

Graeme stopped listening to Glenda long before she ceased talking. Blair’s betrayal curled around his heart. How could she have done this to him? When he finished his soup, he crossed his arms on the table, lowered his head and fell instantly asleep.