Highlander's Winter Tale (3 page)

Dawn stood and pulled the shawl more snugly around the old woman’s shoulders.

Old Mary grabbed her arm. “You must be careful. I do not know why, I only know that you must.”

It was Dawn’s turn to shiver. She trusted Old Mary’s knowing and always paid heed to it.

“Things are not what they seem and there is more yet to come,” Old Mary said with concern.

Dawn did not like the worried look in Old Mary’s eyes or the way she reached out desperately to Dawn, as if trying to take hold of her and keep her safe. Dawn eased her arms around the old woman and helped her out of the chair and into bed. She was exhausted. It had been a busy day and there was the added concern about the snowstorm, and then she had kept everyone occupied with the telling of the Winter Tale.

With a tuck of the covers around Old Mary, Dawn was ready to leave the woman to sleep and get much needed rest.

Old Mary slipped her hand out from beneath the blanket and grabbed Dawn’s wrist before she could turn away. “I fear the devil is upon us, for I have unleashed the cursed undead spirit of Winter Tale.”

Dawn jumped frightened out of her wits when the door to her bedchamber swung open just as she was about to place her hand on the latch.

Cree was headed out the door to find his wife, annoyed she had not been there waiting for him when he had entered their bedchamber. He was about to snap at her and demand to know what had taken her so long when he caught the frightened look on her face.

He reached out, snagged her around the waist, and yanked her up against him, then gave the door a kick shut. “What is wrong?” he more demanded than asked. His wife did not frighten easily, so something had to have disturbed her for her to have been so startled when he opened the door.

Dawn laid her head on her husband’s hard chest and wrapped her arms around his waist, hugging him as tight as she could.

That did it for Cree. Something was wrong and he intended to find out.

With a quick lift, Dawn found herself up in her husband’s strong arms, a place she always felt safe in. He carried her to their large bed, a place she always enjoyed sharing with him and a smile crept over her.

“First you will tell me what has frightened you and then I will make that small smile of yours grow.” He grew more concerned when her smile faded instead of growing. He eased her head off his shoulder and slipped his finger beneath her chin to raise her head, about to ask her again what was wrong. Instead, his finger drifted down along the scar across her throat. It was fading, more slowly than he would have liked, but it was fading and Elsa, the clan’s healer, felt in time it would fade completely. He was relieved, for the scar reminded him how much she had given to save his life.

He ran a gentle finger across the scar again. “You are the bravest woman I know, so it concerns me when I see fear in your beautiful eyes.” Her sigh might be silent to others, but to Cree it was as though she spoke aloud when he saw her chest expand and her shoulders slump. “Tell me what has frightened you?” he said and kissed her lips gently.

Dawn was ever so grateful for her husband. He might scowl much too often and be overly demanding, but he loved her and that would never change. She began to gesture.

Cree interrupted as soon as she gnarled her fingers. “There is something wrong with Old Mary?”

Dawn shook her head and pointed to her mouth.

Cree nodded. “She has told you something that has upset you.”

Dawn bobbed her head and continued.

Cree understood her every gesture and shook his head when she finished. “You have nothing to worry about. Alexander is a man not a ghost. He will bring harm to no one. I will make certain of it. Old Mary worries for naught.”

Dawn scrunched her brow, displaying her doubt.

“You would have thought nothing of his presence if Old Mary had not told the tale.” She went to gesture and Cree caught her hands in his. “Do not tell me that he would not be here if Old Mary had not told the tale.”

Dawn slipped her fingers out of her husband’s grasp and pressed her hands to each side of her head, sticking a finger up on each and shrugged.

Cree laughed. “Listen well, wife, if he is a ghost and has brought the devil with him, the devil will soon realize he has met his match in me, for he will face a far worse hell than what he is used to if he harms what is mine.”

Dawn frowned, made the gesture for the devil once again, and then poked her husband in the chest while shaking her head.

Cree laughed again. “Are you forbidding me from taking on the devil?”

She tapped his arm once and gave a firm nod at the same time.

His laughter faded and he pressed his brow to hers. “I met the devil a long time ago and he wanted no part of me.”

Dawn felt a catch in her chest, recalling her husband’s infamous reputation, though that was before he had met her. She liked to believe her love for him had tamed him some...or so she tried to convince herself. He was still the fierce and mighty warrior everyone feared, though not her, she loved him.

She did what came natural when in his arms...she kissed him. It was a soft brush of the lips to start, a gentle prelude and he returned it in kind. She loved these moments with him when there was no want to rush, no overwhelming urge, just the simple pleasure of a simple kiss. He touched her then, a light brush of his hand across her breast and a warm tingle settled over her.

It was at times like this that she wished she had a voice, wished that he could hear her tell him how much she loved him. But then perhaps silent words said far more. She moved her lips away from his and took his face in her hands so that he would have to look directly at her. She saw worry in his eyes, but then perhaps it was her own reflection of concern she saw there. With her heart beating madly, she slowly mouthed each word
, I. Love. You.

Cree’s dark eyes widened along with his smile. “I think the whole keep heard that.”

Dawn laughed and a tear trickled down the corner of her one eye as she threw her arms around her husband’s neck and hugged him tight.

He tugged her away from him and kissed the cheek the tear had touched. “I love hearing you say that, but I hear you just as loudly when you tell me as you have always done.” He kissed her lips, and then whispered, “Besides, I love having your hands touch me when you speak.”

She smiled and ran her hand over his chest and down along his waist and just as it appeared as though she would slip her hand further down between them, she took hold of his hand and pressed it against her breast.

His smile turned to that wicked grin he wore just before...

“Let us see whose touch makes the other surrender first.”

She shifted on his lap, so she could reach down to touch him when he quickly stood and placed her on her feet.

“No, no, wife, we will make this a fair battle. We do not start until we are both naked and on the bed.”

Her hands went to her garments, eager to be the victor in this little skirmish of passion when a knock sounded at the door.

Cree muttered several oaths as did Dawn. She shook her head and admonished herself for speaking so unfittingly, even though it could not be heard, it was not proper for her to do so. But damn just did not seem strong enough to quell her anger at being interrupted.

Cree swung the door open to find Sloan there.

Sloan held up his hands. “Before you kill me, I thought it important you know that two of the women who served the stranger have suddenly taken ill and the food being cleared off the tables have soured so badly it is turning the stomachs of all in the Great Hall.” He scrunched his nose and shivered, as if demonstrating just how bad the odor was.

Before Dawn could approach her husband, he turned and ordered, with his finger pointed at her, “You stay here and I mean it. Do not dare leave this room. Wait for my return.” He shut the door on her startled face before she could say a word.

Sloan chuckled as they walked to the stairs.

“Do not say it,” Cree warned.

Sloan chuckled again. “You think you would have learned by now that she does not pay heed to your words.”

“She will pay heed this time,” Cree snapped.

“And why is that?”

“She fears the devil and she fears the devil has been unleashed on us. She will keep her distance this time.”

Sloan shuddered from the sudden chill that ran threw him. “What if the devil is here?”

“Then I will send him back to hell where he belongs.”

The stink hit Cree when he was a few steps from the bottom of the stairs and his anger sparked. When he stepped into the Great Hall, he was once again glad that he had Flanna to oversee the servants and running of the keep. She had the servants scrubbing the tables and benches with fresh snow while two servants began tossing pine cones into the flames of the large fireplace. He wondered what was in the tankards that everyone in the hall was holding close to their noses. It did not take long to find out. Flanna approached with two tankards.

“It will help quell the odor.”

Cree sniffed at one of the tankards she held. It was a pleasant apple scent, but he refused it. The room might stink, but he had smelled far worse in his life, especially after battle. Besides, it would be a sign of weakness to take the tankard and he did not have to look to see that Sloan refused it as well.

“You have done well, Flanna,” Cree said.

She bobbed her head. “The pine cones, greedily being consumed by the flames, will soon chase the odor and all will be able to sleep comfortably tonight.”

“The women who took ill?”

“I had them moved to the far corner of the hall,” she said, pointing in the direction. “I thought to send for the healer and two warriors volunteered to fetch Elsa, but the storm has worsened and between the darkness and the snow a hand in front of your face cannot even be seen. It will have to wait until daylight. Even then it may not be possible, if the snow continues to fall so heavily and rapidly.”

“Does anyone tend them?”

“They all fear going near them, the fever having come upon the two so suddenly.”

“Where is the stranger?” Cree asked.

“The last he was seen was in the kitchen,” Flanna said.

A servant yelled out for Flanna, and Cree shot a warning look to who had dared to interrupt him when he was engaged in conversation with someone. But when he saw that a servant had collapsed in another servant’s arms, he and Sloan, along with Flanna, hurried over to them.

Sloan lifted the slumped woman into his arms and looked to Cree.

One look at the servant spoke louder than words. She was the one of the servants who had served the stranger.

“Bring her over to the others,” Flanna said and Sloan followed her.

Cree watched them carry the young lass off, his thoughts on protecting his clan. He went to turn to go to the kitchen when his glance caught the look in the eyes of many of the men and women huddled together in fright in the room. They all looked to him to protect them, keep them from harm even from the devil himself.

~~~

Dawn left the room shortly after her husband. She had to go speak with Old Mary, had to let her know what was going on...unless she already knew.

As she went to grab the latch to Old Mary’s room, it was yanked from her hand as before with Cree and once again she startled.

“I have been waiting for you,” Old Mary said and hurried her in with an anxious wave. “It has begun, has it not?”

Dawn nodded.

Old Mary paced the room. “I do not know how to undo what I have done. I have brought evil down upon the clan.”

Dawn had never seen her so upset. She stepped in front of Old Mary, stopping the woman’s pacing and rested a hand on her shoulder. She shook her head, not agreeing with her.

Old Mary reached her hand up to take hold of Dawn’s hand and winced from the quick movement.

Dawn took Old Mary’s hand, shook her head, and pointed to the bed.

“You do not understand. This stranger is nothing like what Cree has faced before. He is neither alive nor dead, which means he cannot be destroyed. There is no way for Cree to defeat him.”

Her warning words sent a shiver rippling through Dawn, especially since Old Mary trembled herself.

“Keep your distance from the stranger and pray that the melting snow swallows him whole once more.”

Dawn tucked the old woman into bed once again and bid her good-night with a gentle kiss to her forehead. She closed the door quietly behind her, her hand lingering on the latch as thoughts churned in her head, much of which did not make sense.

Old Mary was the one who she went to when troubled and needing help. Not so this time. Old Mary was as upset as everyone else, perhaps more so, since she felt she was the cause of the problem. Dawn hated to see her distressed, especially after having placed her own life in danger to help Dawn free Cree when he had been held captive in a dungeon that many believed he would never escape. But she and Old Mary had gotten him out, and if it had not been for her dear old friend she would have never succeeded.

Now it was her turn to help Old Mary and ease her worrisome burden. Tomorrow, she would see what there was to learn about the stranger. She let go of the latch and turned to walk to her bedchamber, hoping Cree had not returned yet to find her gone. She did not want to listen to a lecture from her husband...she wanted him to make love to her.

The thought brought a slight smile to her face and she hurried her steps even more when she saw her husband standing in the shadows at the end of the narrow hallway. She slowed her steps considerably as she got closer.

It was not her husband standing outside the door of their bedchamber...it was the stranger.

“Forgive the intrusion, my lady, but I seem to have lost my way.”

Dawn stopped a distance away from him aware he was not being truthful with her. He should have remained in the Great Hall where he had been offered food and a pallet to sleep upon. There was no reason, no reason at all that he should be here standing in front of the door to her and Cree’s private chambers.

She pointed to the stairs, keeping her arm extended to let him know he was to leave immediately.

“I can tell my presence has upset you and I am sorry for having disturbed you, but I would be most appreciative if before I took my leave I could see a forgiving smile on your lovely face.”

Dawn was far too apprehensive about the stranger for his charming tongue to have any effect on her. She gave him no smile when she wagged her finger at the stairs.

Her frown did not stop him from turning a compelling smile on her. “At least let me know your name.”

He would learn soon enough, if he had not already, that she had no voice, but for the moment she thought it more prudent that she did not make him aware of it.

Dawn gave a scowl that could best her husband’s and shook her whole arm as she once again pointed to the stairs.

He was about to speak when voices coming up the staircase had Dawn turning her head. She was relieved to hear the sound of her husband’s strong voice and that of Sloan’s. Soon, she would no longer be alone with the stranger.

She turned, intending to turn a smile on the man and stared wide-eyed—he was gone.

“Dawn, I told you to stay—” Cree stopped as soon as he caught the look of fright on her face. “What is wrong? Tell me,” he demanded, slipping his arms around her.

Dawn shook her head.

“You will tell me,” he insisted.

She tapped his arm twice for no and pointed to her shaking head.

“If you do not shake your head at me, then who?”

Dawn gestured, as if pulling the hood of a cloak over her head and shivered.

“Are you telling me Alexander was here?” Cree asked.

Dawn was troubled by the doubt she heard in her husband’s voice and nodded.

“Where did you see him?”

Dawn pointed to where Alexander had stood.

Sloan went to the spot near the bedchamber door. “Are you sure it was not a shadow you saw?”

Dawn shook her head forcefully and pointed to her lips.

“He spoke to you?” Sloan asked surprised.

Something was wrong and she looked from Sloan to her husband and shrugged as she wrinkled her brow in question.

“I have had Alexander watched since his arrival. He has been in the kitchen storeroom with one of the servants for the last hour or more. The warrior watching him has confirmed it.”

Dawn felt a chill run through her as she shook her head once again.

Cree gave a nod to Sloan and he hurried past them and down the stairs.

Dawn rubbed her head. She had seen the stranger. It had not been her imagination.

Cree rested his hand to her lower back and eased her toward their bedchamber door. Once inside, he took her in his arms. “You are tired and the stranger arriving after Old Mary’s tale did not help matters, as did a few people falling ill.”

Dawn stared at him a moment before asking a question she never thought she would ask of him. She tapped her chest, pointed to him and shook her head.

“Do not ask me such nonsense,” he scolded. “Of course I believe you saw him, but I also know from experience that our minds play tricks on us when we are overly tired or upset. When I was held prisoner in the dark cell, I thought I saw you there with me more than one night.”

Dawn tapped her mouth and pointed to him.

“No, you did not speak to me, but then I would not have expected you to.”

She frowned at her own foolish question. How would she have spoken to him without a voice? She gave thought a moment, and then gestured once again.

“Are you asking me why I do not ask what Alexander said to you?”

She nodded.

“Tell me,” he said. Cree grabbed hold of his wife’s hands before she finished gesturing. “Do not dare ask me again if I would believe you, I believe your every word and always will.”

Dawn dropped her brow to rest on her husband’s chest. Why had she asked him that? She had never doubted him before.

He cupped her chin in his hand and raised her head. “I love you.”

She tapped her chest and then his to let him know she felt the same.

“You need sleep,” Cree said and he was surprised when she nodded and stepped away from him to reach for a nightdress she seldom wore. He had expected her to gesture that it was not sleep she needed, but him to make love to her.

He was shocked when after she slipped her nightdress on that she crawled into bed without even kissing him good-night. It was a rare night that they did not make love. Some nights it was a quick joining, other nights they took their time and the nights they simply went to sleep was because they had made love during the day. Today had not been one of those days.

Cree disrobed and slipped beneath the blanket, curling himself around her and hugging her close. She made no move to touch him nor did she cuddle up against him. She lay unresponsive, something she had never done before when in his arms and it angered him.

He was about to say something when he felt the familiar movement of her body...she was crying. He turned her around in his arms, annoyed that he had failed to see how upset she truly was and held her close and let her shed her tears.

When they finally subsided, he kissed her wet cheeks and whispered, “All is well, wife, sleep and know you are always safe in my arms.”

He felt her heavy sigh and was pleased when she snuggled against him and a moment later fell asleep.

Cree lay thinking. Had Dawn imagined the stranger in the shadows and had she also imagined he spoke to her? She was a strong and brave woman, having faced more than her share of burdens and hardships. Never once had he known her mind to play tricks on her. But if he accepted what she told him as truth, then how could Alexander have been in two places at once? The guard had not only confirmed that Alexander never left the storeroom, but the servant lass he had been with also had confirmed he had been with her the whole time.

Still, he had a difficult time believing his wife had imagined seeing and speaking with Alexander. He had to learn more about Alexander and he had to learn more about this Winter Tale. On the morrow he would speak with Old Mary and see what she could tell him, and he would also order his wife to keep her distance from the stranger.

For a moment, he thought he heard laughter, a reminder from Sloan that Dawn was not likely to obey. The laughter came again, as if confirming his thought, but for some reason the sound disturbed this time.

Cree eased his head up to cast a glance around the room. The fire’s flickering flames caused shadows to dance in the dark corners of the room, making it seem as if someone moved among them. While he never paid heed to nonsense, the Highlands were filled with myths and superstitions that were hard to ignore. Besides, a wise leader never discounted the improbable, for it could be his undoing.

Cree gently eased himself away from his wife, glad that she was in a deep sleep and did not protest his absence, and tucked the blanket around her after he got out of the bed. He stood in the middle of the room naked, the muscles in his body growing taut as he allowed the warrior in him to take over and a deep scowl took hold of his face that in the fire’s light made him appear more demon than man. But then at that moment, Cree was ready to fight whoever had dared to enter his private bedchamber whether he was ghost, demon, or man.

He walked slowly from corner to corner and the dancing shadows stilled, some dissipating as if in fright of the fearless warrior. It was the last corner, the one not far from the bed, that sent a chill through him from the cold, but then it was nearest to the lone window in the room. Still, he could find nothing and so he returned to the bed, ready to slip beneath the blankets and take his wife in his arms once again.

You did not believe her.

Cree’s instincts had him reaching for his sword, but when he looked there was no one there to turn it on.

You disappointed her.

Laughter echoed in the room.

She keeps her distance the only way she knows how.

Laughter came again, then drifted off.

Cree wanted to roar with rage, but held back, not wanting to wake his wife and alarm her. Where had the voice and laughter come from or was his mind now playing tricks on him? He placed his sword close enough to the bed where he could reach it if necessary, then he joined his wife, taking her in his arms once again and holding her close.

She snuggled against him, her body at ease in his arms. She did not keep her distance. She wanted to be there close to him, entwined with him, loving him.

Still the words resonated over and over in his head.

She keeps her distance the only way she knows how.

He felt it then like a punch to his stomach. The nightdress. Suddenly the soft wool felt like an impenetrable shield that separated them. Why had she chosen to wear it tonight? Earlier she had been eager for him to make love to her. She had always been eager for them to join together. His touch fired her passion just as much as her touch fired his.

What had happened to change that tonight?

He had told her that he believed her, but his words and actions had spoken otherwise.

They had always believed and trusted one another. He would not have it any other way. Tomorrow they would talk and settle this and she would never again wear a nightdress to bed.