Legend of the Fae: A Highland Fantasy (The Dark Fae Saga Book 1) (8 page)

~ Chapter 10 ~

“We followed them bastards all the way to Hollow’s Point. They are on MacPherson land now, heading home,” Warrick explained to Galen, as Alex stepped into the room to join them.

“Good. I penned a letter to Laird Campbell keeping him apprised of the situation. If war is what Arthur McGregor wants, then bloody hell, a war he will get.” Turning his attention to Alex, he continued, “We have a guest in the upstairs tower room. See what Moira can find out about the lass. She’s a mute, but perhaps there is some clue as to who she is. In the meantime, we will continue our training in the fields to keep the men’s skills in top form.”

In an area where part of the courtyard had been cleared of snow, several of Galen’s men practiced with unsharpened blades while others took to the hills to practice their archery. They were surrounded by packed snow as high as their calves, but the warm sun made it tolerable enough to train outdoors. After joining many skirmishes, he stood back and watched, looking for areas of improvement. They continued to train well into the night.

~ ♥ ~

From her room in the tower, Ella’s view of the vista of snow-capped mountain peaks and wooded landscape was beautiful. Though snow still covered the ground, the weather felt much warmer than it had the past two days. Ella looked through the arrow slit in the wall that served as a window to the busy bailey below. Her eyes were instantly drawn to the shine of metal beyond the gates of the castle. In an open field, she saw a group of warriors clashing their swords together.

A prominent figure stood apart from the others, watching with the intense gaze of a hawk sighting his prey. His long reddish hair waved in the wind. A deep scowl came to Ella’s face when she recognized him. Interrupting her thoughts, a soft knock sounded on the door before slowly opening. A young lass poked her head inside and smiled.

“Hello, my lady. My name is Jenny. I thought ye would like something to drink,” she said, as she placed a mug onto the table. “I am also the seamstress. I have been ordered to fit ye with a proper wardrobe while ye will be staying wit’ us.”

Ella turned her head away from the lass and glanced back out the window. She had no need for another dress; she was not planning to stay here much longer. Brushing against her, the maid briefly stood next to Ella and peeked out the window. 

“Awe
that
be Laird Graham and his men. Train every morning they do,” the maid explained.

Ella felt the briefest of touches from the woman who laid a hand upon her shoulder before beginning to braid her hair. The touch was as uncomfortable as a hawk digging its talons into her shoulder. With a swift movement, Ella grabbed the woman’s hand and twisted it, removing it from her shoulder while digging her nails into the maid’s flesh. The maid yelped in pain, and Ella’s grip intensified. She did not like being touched. It was anything but comforting. When Ella released the hand, the maid quickly brought her arm to her chest and held it firmly. With tears in her eyes she ran out the door.

Ella had not intentionally meant to harm the young woman. But after what had happened in the woods with the strange men, unwanted touch had come to feel as unnerving as if the woman was peeling her skin off with the sharp end of a blade. She did not want comfort or kindness from these people. Kindness would indicate she was a guest and not a prisoner. She wished they would just leave her be.    

Ella watched the warriors for a moment longer. She never imagined that arrogant bastard was Laird of this keep. As it was his responsibility to provide her care, she feared she would never get home. Whether they were training for battle, or simply honing their skills, they reminded her of her fellow warriors, and the war they were about to wage against the Kingdom of Greylyn.

If an image could tell a story or spark a memory, it was the image of these warriors that filled Ella with guilt. Had she not been so selfish, she would have been half way to Greylyn by now, leading her people to victory. Her choice to come here might have very well destroyed their only chance to defeat Talara once and for all.

From her chair, Ella placed her hands on the arm rests to pull herself up. With a deep breath, she took one step forward, trying to keep the weight off her ankle. As she shifted her weight from one side to the other, attempting to put the slightest possible pressure on her sprained ankle, Ella lost her balance and fell. Her rump hit the wooden floor, and her elbow slammed into the boards, bringing her descent to a halt. With a yelp, she cried out. Frustrated, vulnerable, and weak, Ella sat upright on the floor and wept.

Balling her fist, she hit her hand upon the wooden floor. The impact caused her hand to throb. Determined to try walking again, Ella tied the wrap on her ankle so tight her toes began to tingle. Slowly letting out a deep breath, she rose to her knees. Turning carefully on her knees to the chair behind her, she grasped the edge of it and pulled herself up to a standing position. If it took her all day, she was determined to walk.

Sliding her foot forward, she slowly added a little more pressure at a time. Soon, she was across the room and back again. Sitting back on the bed to allow her swollen ankle to rest, she unraveled the bandage and smiled, feeling satisfied with her accomplishment. Now all she needed was time.

~ Chapter 11 ~

The next morning, Galen gathered with his clan in the great hall for the morning meal. Platters of scrambled eggs, dried fruit and freshly baked bread were scattered across the table. The chatter this morning had been quite lively amongst his men and even the dogs hiding beneath the table seemed to be in high spirits as they impatiently waited for scraps to fall onto the floor.

Across the room, Galen caught a glimpse of three of the maids whispering together. Within moments, Moira angrily hurried them back into the kitchen. Something was surely amiss. Grabbing onto a slice of bread, Galen broke a small piece and popped it in his mouth as he sat back and observed the women’s odd behavior. He was not accustomed to seeing them acting so suspiciously. It seemed they all shared some secret, and at first Galen did not want to impose.

He thought perhaps one of the young lassies had caught the eye of one of his men. Lord knew women gossiped all the time about such foolish things. But still, that did not explain Moira’s behavior. He had known Moira his whole life. Long enough to know when something was the matter.

Finishing his meal, he stood to start his day. He had plans to visit the market in Stonehaven. A new shipment of foreign goods should have arrived in port yesterday, and he was eager to check out the latest weaponry. As Galen was about to leave the hall Moira stopped him.       

“My Laird, may I have a word. I do no’ mean to bother ye about this but I am havin’ a bit of trouble with the lassie upstairs. None of the staff is willing to go in and check on her. Just yesterday she attacked our wee Jenny, and this morning she tossed her tray of food at young Aishla. The lass is like a wild animal. If ye ask me, the lass needs a firm hand and a good whipping.”

“I will no’ argue with ye there. I will deal wit’ the matter. From now on, bring her meals to the guards. If she does no’ prefer the company of a woman tending to her needs perhaps she will feel differently when a mon tries to assist her.”

“Aye, my Laird.”

“For now, I will speak to her. I will just need to adjust my schedule. By the end of the week I suspect she will be healed. If I can figure out where she belongs, I will send her on her way as soon as the weather improves.

“Thank ye, my Laird.”

From what Moira had told him, this lass was coming to be a problem. It was obvious the lass was frightened, but he had no idea why. His staff had shown her nothing but the utmost care, and no one here had tried to lay a hand on her. Galen had to think that whatever happened to her was the cause of her skittish, defensive behavior. But like all things, the only way to calm a beast was to let them know you meant no harm. That was exactly what he was going to do.

Grabbing a platter of food, he headed up the stairs. Too busy training with his men and preparing for the winter, he’d had little time to worry about her. He left that responsibility to Moira. But now that the lass had scared all of the female servants in the castle, he had little choice but to be involved.

The lass had only been there two days, and already had caused this much chaos. What next? Galen thought perhaps her clan may very well tolerate her unruly behavior, but he did not. Once and for all, he would inform her of the expectations of his guests. The laws of highland hospitality were firmly established.

He walked down the long corridor to the staircase that led to the upper rooms. Led by impulse, Galen marched his way to the tower, taking the steps two at a time. He had no time to waste on such frivolous things as an ignorant, ungrateful lassie. Still, he was baffled by how she could strike fear into others. After all, who would be afraid of a mouse?

By the time he reached the third floor, he paused outside the tower room door, trying to cool his anger. His decision to take charge of the lass’s wellbeing caused his stomach to twist with apprehension. Attempting to care for her was beyond his knowledge and understanding of women. He knew nothing of the needs of a woman other than their desires beneath the sheets.
This is ridiculous!
I have led a hundred men into battle, wrestled a boar with my bear hands, and even dived off the cliffs at Tarbat Ness without breaking a sweat; surely I can manage a wee lass.

Taking a deep but firm breath, he swung the door open and stepped inside, expecting to find her lying in bed. But as he rushed into the room to give the lass a piece of his mind, he immediately collided with her. With instinctive, rapid movement, he quickly reached out and pulled her into his arms before they both lost their balance and tumbled to the ground.
Why the hell is she standing in front of the door? She should be in bed healing.

As Galen peered down at the small lass in his arms, ready to scold her, he momentarily felt as if he had been turned to stone; motionless and speechless. The night he had come upon her, it was too dark to really get a good look at the lass, but now that she was face to face with him, he realized she was breathtakingly beautiful. How could such a wee creature cause so much chaos, as she had? Her dark green eyes sparkled like emeralds, and her pale blond hair curled around her soft pink cheek. Galen felt his anger beginning to slip away. He was never one to become easily moved or taken with a lass, but this one was beyond comparison. He gently released her but kept firm.

“Lassie, I have invited ye into my home and offer ye protection, and ye show nay gratitude when ye treat my staff the way ye have. If ye cannae accept help from the women, ye’ll have to settle wit’ dealing wit’ me.” Suddenly, the thought didn’t sound as bad as he’d imagined. He found her feistiness captivating.

~ ♥ ~

Ella had spent her morning exercising her ankle, by pacing the floor, when she was interrupted by a rude and overbearing woman who lectured her about properly healing. Frustrated with the woman’s constant nagging, Ella picked up the oatcake she offered and hurled it at her hoping she would understand the gesture and leave. Ella was not one to take orders. She gave them.

“Tis fer yer own protection,” were the last words the maid spoke before exiting the room.

Ella clenched her teeth as the maid left.
My protection, she says!
The only protection she needed was from Laird Graham, who was keeping her prisoner. Ella stared daggers at the door as if she had the power to blast right through it. Rising from the chair, she stood tall. She was going to find Laird Graham and give him a piece of her mind. She didn’t need the ability to speak to get her feelings across about how she felt. She would use blunt force if she had to.

As Ella neared the door, she was suddenly knocked off balance when she smacked right into a man’s hard chest, covered in soft leather. She noticed clean linen sleeves covered his arms, when with quick movements; he pulled her into him, preventing her from falling. With deliberation, her eyes bore into his. Pushing herself out of his hold, she adjusted her dress, wiped her cheek, and straightened her neckline. If there were an object in her reach that had not been bolted down, she would have grabbed onto it and hit him over the head with it, but against her luck no such object existed. Ella glanced up at the ignorant Laird with anger in her eyes.

His tousled red hair glistened in the light of the sun that shone through the window at the top of the stairwell. His chest fell with each breath, as if he had just finished running up twenty flights of stairs.

Ella did not know why, but there was something about him that riled her nerves. She felt something, but could not explain it nor could she tell if it was a positive emotion she felt or negative one. She’d felt it before, when he first brought her here. It was almost as if she knew him like they had some kind of connection. As she looked into his eyes, her thoughts seemed to ask a thousand questions all at once.
How do I know ye?
Ella searched his eyes for answers, but nothing indicated a response. Ella squirmed uncomfortably as he studied her.

The lass continued to stare at him, with an emotionless expression on her face. It made it difficult to judge whether she understood what he was saying. The way she looked at him, though, was as if she knew him. The funny thing was, he felt the exact same way.

“Lassie, I dinna mean to be hard on ye. I know that ye have been through a great ordeal, and I am sure ye must be frightened, but ye are safe here. Nay one will harm ye. I promise, once the weather warms I will be happy to take ye home.”

Violently, the lass shook her head. Galen thought perhaps home was where she had run away from. Mayhap going home was not what the lass had in mind.

“Lass, did ye run away from yer family, a husband, perhaps? I only ask because I need to know if I should be expecting some angry husband at my door demanding yer return.”

The lass shook her head again. Finally they were getting somewhere. After asking several more questions, he discovered that the lass was not married and not from the Highlands. That left him with two remaining options: she was either a stowaway and arrived here by boat, or she was English. Still, it left him with many questions. He had to find a way to make her feel safe and to determine who she was. To do that, he would have to spend time with her. He decided to skip his plan to go to the market today and spend the remainder of the afternoon here with her.

“I am no’ a mon of great conversation. I do no’ talk about myself, other than what people need to know, and it is no’ up for discussion either. As ye can no’ speak, that rules out any form of conversation as to who ye are and where ye hail from, which makes for a verra dull afternoon.”

Galen uncomfortably looked around the room as he noticed the lass taking interest in the platter of food. She had not eaten the meal brought to her this morning, and he had hoped that she would feel comfortable enough around him to eat.

The awkward silence was as unnerving as taking a dip in ice-cold water. Galen desperately searched for something quick-witted and clever to say, but nothing came to mind. Just beyond the far end of the wall, Galen noticed an old wooden bookcase in desperate need of repair. Behind a cluster of cobwebs, he noticed three books standing on end on top of a broken shelf.

“Do ye know how to read?” he asked, breaking the silence.

The lass shrugged her shoulders. Galen took that as a yes, but perhaps she did not read very well. Pushing himself up from the chair, he made his way across the room and picked up the three books, blowing the dust off their pages.

The first book was a ledger of the estate accounts of Ashbury written in his uncle’s handwriting; useless information written decades ago. Flipping through the pages of the second book, it appeared to have been written by a Spanish monk. The pages spoke of Christianity and prayer. Not the most appropriate read unless he was back at the priory. The third book, however, caught his eye. The cover was stained and the words faded. It read:
Water of Life
. He remembered the story well. It was a mythical legend of a man who fell in love with a selkie.

Placing the other two books back onto the shelf, Galen returned to the chair next to the bed. The lass’s eyes followed him. As he passed by the bed, he noticed the lass firmly holding onto a small black satchel that was resting on her lap. The fierce way she held it told him that it must be of some great importance to her. If he could find a way to acquire it, perhaps that would answer this mystery. Galen sat back in the chair and held the book up in the air.

“Perhaps a story?” he suggested, to help pass the time.

Galen opened the first page and began reading the opening line.

“The songbird beauty called me to the sea…”

Lying in bed, Ella tentatively listened to every word. His brogue and the elegant language he spoke enhanced the character portrayed in the story. He had a way of speaking that made her feel the emotions of the characters. By the time he was half way through the story, she had found herself creeping toward the edge of the bed wanting more. ‘Twas a love story like no other, and Ella inwardly smiled, feeling the passion and love between the two characters.

Before Ella knew it, the sun had long set and the story ended all too soon. Noticing that Galen had stopped reading in the middle of the book, she eyed him curiously. Why did he stop? What happened next?

Galen placed the book down upon the bedside table and glanced in her direction. His gaze was impassive and hard to read.

“I will continue the story tomorrow. It is getting late,” he said as he stood and left the room.

Once the door closed, Ella adjusted herself on the bed and looked back at the book. Though she could barely read the human language she was familiar with a few basic words. Picking up the book she began flipping through the pages. Trying to remember the words Galen spoke, she tried to sound out the letters for the words that were not familiar.

As Galen closed the door behind him, he thought back over how the lass inched closer toward him as he read nor could he have missed the entertained look upon her face. He had baited her like a fish. He could see his plan already working. He may not have learned much but it was a start. Tomorrow he would try again.