Boyett-Compo Charlotte - Wind Tales 01 (22 page)

even answer me when I called.” The wry smile returned. “So, I just stole some clothes off someone's

clothesline.” He plucked at his shirt. “They were baggy, but they were warm."

“It's a wonder they didn't come after you and whip you for being a thief,” Nick grumbled.

“Oh, they came after me, all right,” Kaelan said. “But not until spring.” He gazed past Gillian. “I doubt

they thought I'd survive the winter up here without adequate food. I'd catch them spying on me now and

again, laughing at me as I hobbled around, bringing in wood."

“That must have been pleasant,” Nick snapped.

“I couldn't have cared less,” Kaelan lied. The hurt was in his voice whether he realized it or not. “It

wasn't until they started to really create mischief that I began to get angry."

“They salted the well,” Nick said.

Kaelan nodded. “They set traps in the forests so no game could get close to the manor house.” He

twisted his head and looked at Nick. “You see they knew I couldn't walk far on this leg of mine and I

suppose they might even have thought I'd stumble across one of those vicious traps and get caught

myself."

“I take it they broke the windows, too,” Nick said.

“Aye and tried to burn down the stable and storage sheds.” Kaelan drew in a long breath. “That was the

final straw: trying to burn the place down around my ears.” He shook his head. “I'm afraid I did

something then that was utterly insane and it's a wonder I'm still alive."

“You went back to the village?” Gillian gasped.

“I was furious,” he answered. “I don't know if the solitude was getting to me or if I just woke up that

morning mean as hell. Either way, I went down to the village and I cursed them."

“Cursed them in what way?” Gillian asked, warily.

“Oh, the usual,” he said, blithely “A pox on their houses; a plague on them; disease on their cattle;

destruction of the crops."

“Oh, that was a wise thing to do,” Nick chuckled, “considering they already thought you were a

warlock, man!"

“Wasn't it, though?” Kaelan grinned. “Can you imagine my surprise when later that night hell opened up

and let out its demons?"

Gillian stared at him. “The curse worked?"

“Well,” he drawled, “kind of.” He sighed. “There was a freak storm in the early morning hours. Lightning

was zapping around here like crazy."

“In the winter?” Nick gaped.

“Aye, in the winter. The wind started howling like a Chalean banshee and flash floods came down from

Mount Serenia. The villagers barely had time to get out of their huts before this wall of water poured over

them and swept their houses away."

“'A pox on their houses',” Gillian breathed.

“Then after the flood,” Kaelan said, “the drinking water was contaminated so most of them got very ill."

“'A plague on them',” Nick chimed in.

Kaelan had the grace to look shamefaced. “Some of the cattle began dying. It was hoof and mouth

disease, I'm sure, but that got blamed on me, as well."

“You're lucky they didn't come up here and drag you out to their bonfire, Hesar, muttered.

“Well, I had laid one other curse on them and, unfortunately that one came to pass, as well,” he

answered. At her look, he shrugged. “I told them that the next person who dared show his face at Holy

Dale, I'd turn him into a frog."

“You turned a man into a frog,” she stated with disbelief.

“Some poor foreigner came to the door one afternoon,” Kaelan smiled. “He spoke very little Viragoinan

High Speech, but knew enough to tell me he had lost his way. He was a most unfortunate looking fellow

with warts all over his hands and face.” The prince shuddered. “I felt sorry for him. He asked directions

to the Serenian border and I told him. I wanted him to stay longer, to talk, but he was in a hurry to reach

Ciona before week's end.” He chuckled quietly.

“Apparently he misunderstood my directions and wound up in Wixenstead. In trying to explain how he'd

arrived South of where he should be, he told the villagers I'd turned him inside out, no doubt meaning he

got turned around by my directions. They thought I'd changed him into the pitiful wretch he was.” A

wicked light came from Kaelan's eyes. “Later that night, a rock sailed through one of the windows and

attached to it was a note that assured me the villagers would not be seeking me out again and for me not

to go around changing innocent folk on their account."

“And they've left you alone ever since,” Nick chuckled.

“Except for my protector,” Kaelan answered. When brother and sister cocked their brows in unison, he

smiled. “Someone comes once a week and leaves a basket of food on the back steps. Freshly-baked

bread, fruits and vegetables, milk every now and then."

“Kymmie.” Gillian smiled.

“Aye, I think so, though I've never seen anyone out there.” Kaelan drew in a long breath. “At least there

was one person in the village who cared whether I lived or died."

“What's going to happen to me when I go into the village tomorrow?” Nick asked.

Kaelan started. “Why on earth would you want to?"

“Well, milord, There's not enough food to feed us and, from the looks of you, you're going to be sicker

tomorrow than you are tonight.” Nick grinned. “I've got a pocketful of coins so there's no reason I

shouldn't go down and buy us some necessities."

“As long as they don't know you're from Holy Dale,” Kaelan said speculatively, “they might not give you

a hard time of it.” He glanced at Gillian. “Don't be telling them you've a woman with you, though."

“You really don't think Duncan will send men here to search for me, do you?” Gillian asked, reading his

mind.

“Aye, he would,” Nick answered for Kaelan, “if he thought you might have reason to come looking for

Kaelan."

“Serenia is less than eight miles from Holy Dale” Kaelan said. “I can usually hear riders coming long

before they pass the pond. If he should think to look for you here, there will be time for you to leave.

There's a hidden pathway through the foothills that leads almost right up to the Carbonham Gate."

“I'm not leaving without you!” Gillian said firmly.

The prince reached out to cup her cheek. “And just how far do you think you'd get with a cripple

slowing you down, Sweeting?"

Up until that moment, neither Gillian nor Nick had considered the implications of Kaelan's story. That he

was crippled, hit them like a bolt from the blue. Nick looked away, unable to face the guileless amber

eyes that shifted to his. Gillian turned her lips into his palm.

“Kaelan...” she began, but he shushed her with his fingers.

“I am damaged goods, Gillian,” Kaelan said gently.

“Not to me!” she said indignantly.

“One thing's for certain,” Nick said, wanting to get the conversation away from the source of Kaelan's

embarrassment. “If we stay here, we'll damned sure have to get the two of you, as well."

“There's not a priest within fifty miles of Holy Dale who would burden a woman with me, Cree,” Kaelan

said bluntly.

“I've a dagger that says one will, Hesar,” Nick retorted. He touched the jeweled weapon at his thigh.

“You force a priest to Join me with your sister and Duncan would certainly have grounds to annul the

marriage,” Kaelan reminded him.

“Not if, when we get to Serenia, you have a priest there redo the Joining ceremony,” Nick stated. He

squinted at Kaelan. “You haven't alienated the entire McGregor clan, too, have you?"

“Not that I know of,” Kaelan muttered. “But even the McGregors will have heard of Marie's death."

“I doubt Drayton McGregor gives a shit about what goes on in Virago,” Nick scoffed. “He's reinstated

the title of King of Serenia and as Headsman, took it for himself, did you know that?"

“How could I?” Kaelan snapped. He narrowed his eyes. “Is Duncan going to do the same thing and

declare himself King of Virago."

“I'd wager he eventually will.” Nick snorted. “For the moment, he has declared us a Principality with

himself as Prince Regent. The title of Jarl wasn't prestigious enough, I guess."

“He made Rolf de Viennes his Chancellor,” Gillian added. “Next to Duncan, he is the highest-ranking

man in Virago."

“Elga thought him a most fitting husband for her youngest stepchild,” Nick spat.

The mentioning of de Viennes’ name turned Kaelan's mouth bitter and gave his eyes a decidedly wicked

gleam of jealousy. Seeing the reaction, Nick rubbed his hands together. “Then, it's all settled."

“What is?” Kaelan grumbled. Just knowing how close Gillian had come to being shackled to Rolf de

Viennes set his teeth on edge.

“I bring you two back a priest tomorrow!” Nick beamed.

[Back to Table of Contents]

Part Two

Nick buttoned the top of his coat, adjusted the fur hat Gunter had given him for his last birthday, and

opened the kitchen door.

He frowned.

Ahead of him lay a waist-high drift that blocked his exit. Sighing regretfully, he looked back at Gillian, his

face like that of a sad little puppy's. “He was right."

Gillian nodded as she dropped the last of the shriveled apples into the pan. “Be sure and get cinnamon

and cloves if you can find then, Nicky."

Her brother sighed again. “I'll have to dig out."

“He told you you would,” Gillian confirmed. When her brother continued to stand in the doorway, the

icy cold wind whipping into the kitchen, she glanced over at him. “Either go or shut the door, Nicholas."

Nick took in a long, tired breath, then exhaled slowly. “Where did he say the shovel was?"

“Oh for the love of Alel!” Gillian complained. She put down the pan of apples and snatched up a big tin

basin. “The shovel is to the right of the door, Nick. Here, take this.” She handed him the basin and

picked up another for herself.

“Why do you suppose he left the shovel outside?” Nick inquired as he began to scoop snow away from

the doorway so he could find the shovel.

“Where else would he have left it, dimwit?” Gillian snapped as she, too, dug into the drift and threw the

snow out beyond the steps.

“He brought the ax inside,” Nick retorted.

“Axes rust,” she countered. Angrily, she packed snow into the basin. “Shovels do not. Besides, Papa

always said it was bad luck to bring shovels and rakes into the house."

Nick stopped scooping. “Well, he doesn't need any more bad luck."

“He certainly does not,” his sister snapped. “The poor man has had quite enough."

“You think someone might have cursed him?"

“I don't know!” Gillian exclaimed with annoyance. “If someone did, they were gods-be-damned good at

their conjuring."

He looked sharply at his sister. “Why are you so out of sorts this morn, Gilly? Anyone would think you

had caught your tit in a wringer."

“I hate it,” she seethed through her clenched teeth.

“The snow?” he inquired with a cocked brow.

“The sn....?” she glared at him. “No,” she replied as though talking to the village idiot, “what these

bastards have done to Kaelan!"

“Ah,” Nick replied. He turned back to his scooping, bending lower now. “And what do you plan on

doing about it?"

“You know gods-be-damned well what I plan to do, Nicholas,” she shot back.

Nick sighed. “Aye, lass; I do, indeed.” He shuddered. “But can you wait until we leave this place before

you start in on it?"

Gillian snorted and left her brother digging at the drift. Grabbing up her pan of apples, she stomped up

the servant's stairs.

Kaelan was sitting on the side of the bed, coughing. He looked up as she came into the room. His eyes

were red and watering; his nose was as equally red and running; and his cheeks were flushed with febrile

brightness. “I wish you'd quit running around downstairs, brat,” he grumbled. “You're gonna catch cold,

too."

“I've a fire going in the grate down there,” she informed him snidely. “Actually, it's warmer in the kitchen

than up here.” She laid the pan down and went to him, felt his forehead, frowned. “Are you feeling any

better at all?"

“No.” He leaned against her, shivering as her arms enclosed him. Laying his head against her chest, he

sighed deeply as her hands smoothed his hair. “You don't know how many times I've dreamed of this."

“What? Catching your death of cold” she teased.

Kaelan grinned. “That, too,” he agreed. His cheek nuzzled her belly. “When I woke just now, I thought

I'd dreamed you being here until I couldn't find Brownie and sat up to find her asleep on your cot."

“The tart,” she laughed. “She slept half-atop me all night!"

“I would have, too, if I could have.” When she had no comeback for that remark, he pushed away from

her just enough to look up at her face; he was relieved to see her smiling back at him.

“You thought I was going to protest Nicky bringing back a priest, didn't you, milord Kaelan?” she

asked.

“All you had to say was no,” he told her.

“All you had to say was no,” she countered.

“Not me, Mam'selle. Joining with you has always been my most fervent desire."

“You're sure?” she pressed.

“Aye, I'm sure. Are you?” His look said he was prepared for her rejection.

She nodded. “I've never been surer of anything in my entire life, Hesar.” Removing her arms from

around his shoulders, she stepped back. “Do you need help with the chamberpot, milord?"

“No!” he exclaimed, his face turning a deeper red.

Gillian shrugged. “All right.” She turned to leave him, then looked back over her shoulder, giving him a