Lord of the Black Isle (3 page)

“He who busies himsel' with two things drowns.”

She sucked in enough air to fill a balloon and turned around so quickly that she got a small crick in her neck, for she knew exactly who that voice belonged to. Massaging the crick, she looked around but did not see any sign of the Black Douglas, but she did see a mounted rider coming toward her, and as it drew closer she began to frown suspiciously.

Through the fog of a cool summer morning and the gauzy haze of history, he rode closer, the Black Douglas, in full armor and riding a black horse. He was obviously dressed for battle, which struck her as curious.

Dressed in full knight's regalia, he was truly a splendidly magnificent man: handsome and not tall by twenty-first-century standards, but tall for the sixteenth-century male, muscular, yet slender, with dark blue eyes and hair of the blackest black. But the more she stared, the more she realized that something wasn't right. She continued to study him, trying to decide what was different, and then she realized his tunic was black, not blue, and also missing were the three white stars. In fact,
everything
was
black…
his chausses, his over-the-knee boots, his surcoat, and even his chain mail hauberk was black, as was his helmet.

When he drew rein near her, she asked, “What happened to your blue tunic with the three white stars? Why are you in full armor when there is no sign of a battle anywhere around here?”

“Weel, I had a notion ye wouldna be too happy to see me, and ye would be ready to confront me in a battle over recent occurrences in yer life. Am I wrong?”

She laughed outright. Then gaining control, she said, “No, you are not wrong, and I would love to do more than confront you. I truly think I could take your sword and run you through.”

“Aye, and there ye have it.”

“There I have what?”

“Ye have the reason why I ha' come in full armor. I came prepared to meet ye on the battlefield. 'Twas fitting that I should come dressed in black, I think, to go wi' my black heart.”

Elisabeth remembered a ranting she hurled at him and his meddlesome ways when she was feeling as low as a receding tide and had accused him of having the blackest heart in the history of mankind. Suddenly, she burst out laughing. She couldn't help herself. Sometimes he was so mortal, contemporary, and downright hilarious that she could not stay angry at him. And today, especially, he was such a jovial soul, in spite of his black attire. His attempt at humor went a long way to soften her anger at him, although it did nothing to ease her trepidation.

Here he was, if not in the flesh, close to it and looking quite magnificent, she thought, but of course, she wouldn't tell him, the reprobate whom she had not seen since he paid her a visit the night Alysandir was wounded, rescuing her from the MacLeans at Duart Castle. “I don't suppose I need to ask if you know about what happened with Ronan,” she said.

“Aye, and I ken ye shed many a tear and grieved greatly, fer we could hear you a couple of centuries back. Naught could be that bad.”

“That is easy for you to say. Your heart wasn't broken.”

“Ahhh, the ‘precious porcelain of human clay.'”

She frowned suspiciously. “Do you know Lord Byron?”

Up went his brows with surprise, which was followed by a rumbling laugh that seemed to have begun low, perhaps in his feet, and grew louder as it rose to the top, gathering speed as it went, rather like champagne ready to blow its cork. “Nay, lass, I know him not, but I did read
Don
Juan
.”

“
Humph!
” she said. Then as an afterthought, she added, “
Don
Juan…
It figures, for I have heard about you and your unrestrained life.”

“Mayhap—'tis no secret that I wasna celibate all my life.”

That got her attention. “Are you going to tell me about the Countess of Sussex? Is this true confessions time?”

“Mayhap it is; mayhap 'tis not. But I might be convinced to join ye on that rocky ledge and confess along wi' ye. Do ye wish to partake?”

She stared at her feet. “I don't think there is anything in it for me. Besides, I don't kiss and tell.”

“If it eases yer mind, Ronan Mackinnon suffers the same as ye.”

Her head jerked up. “You have spoken to him?”

His blue eyes were alight with humor, as he said, “Nay lass, I dinna spend my time floating aboot and visiting wi' all and sundry.”

“No, you just go around pestering helpless and defenseless women.”

“Do I now? Ha' ye seen any of those helpless, defenseless women aboot?” He looked around, as if searching. “I should like to see what one looks like.”

He was venturing off into a direction where she did not want to go, so she changed the subject. “Then how do you know he suffers as well?”

“'Twas merely an observation I made. I can observe without making my presence known.”

“Apparently,” she said, quite huffily.

“‘Heav'n has no Rage like Love to Hatred turn'd, Nor Hell a Fury, like a Woman scorn'd.'”

“Obviously quoted by a female friend of yours,” she said, fighting the urge to smile. He laughed and she refused to think about just how wonderful his deeply baritone laugh was, and then she wondered if he could read her mind and decided not to go there.

“Ye are still miffed that I didna pay ye the same number o' visits as I did Isobella?”

“You can barely call a couple of short twirls through my life a visit. And you did show a
strong
preference for visiting my twin.”

“That wouldna be yer eyes of green talking now, would it?”

“Well, the two of you were rather chummy, while I was left with the MacLeans for ages without a clue as to what was going on…”

“'Twas not yer time for me to involve myself wi' ye.”

“Oh, now I get it. One must suffer horribly before you pay them a call.”

“Nay, I didna visit ye much because it wasna yer time, and I dinna recall yer horrible bouts o' suffering.”

“I may not have suffered, per se, but
I'm
the one who got all the grief, while Izzy was living a relatively relaxed life. If you remember, I spent most of my time in the clutches of Angus MacLean, as his captive. There was even an opportunity for Izzy to follow her archaeological calling, while I was never afforded anything equal, and before you say that the treating of Alysandir and Braden were opportunities for me to practice medicine, they definitely were merely isolated events.”

“And I seem to recollect the MacLean having ye doon to the great hall to sup wi' him on many an occasion. And ye had yer freedom to go about Duart Castle at will, did ye not?”

She purposefully ignored that last question. “I'm not going to put a dog in that fight,” she said, “but I will say that I think you owe me.”

He gave her that look, which she was becoming accustomed to, when he raised his brows and his face bore an expression that lay somewhere between amusement and being amazed at her gall. “And what would it take to soothe yer ruffled feathers and cause ye to purr like a kitten?”

She gazed off for a moment and lifted her eyes skyward, as if seeking some sort of divine suggestion, then she said, “I was thinking that something given in recompense for my having the short end of the straw—and before you disagree with that, let me remind you that not only was I held prisoner while Izzy was free as a breeze, but she also married the man of her dreams, while I had mine cruelly yanked out of my life before we could wed.”

“Mayhap ye are taking the cart afore the horse, fer yer fate is not always in my hands, and the time for a turning point in yer life may lie in yer future, not in the events of the past. Mayhap ye should consider that instead of allowing things to happen, ye might endeavor to influence yer future by making wise choices.”

She felt like she had been hit in the face with a pie. She was speechless. “I get the feeling you are referring to my staying at Màrrach and letting things happen, rather than leaving here and making a new life for myself.”

“I believe yer contemporary way of putting it would be, if what ye are doing isna working, why do ye keep doing it? Why not try something new? Ye have trod upon the soil of Mull long enough. Follow yer heart. Seek yer passion, and there ye will find yer future.”

“So, this is my big moment? My time to ‘strut and fret my hour upon the stage and then be heard no more,' as Shakespeare said?”

“Eiridh ton air uisge balbh.”

“You
know
I don't speak Gaelic. A translation is needed.”

“A wave will rise on quiet water.”

“Since you are being frank, I feel I have to be honest. I never expected you to show yourself around me after I left Màrrach. You were always Isobella's sidekick, not mine, and to be frank, you were never very nice to me.”

“Ahhh, the scornful words of the sour grape variety.”

“Of late, all my grapes seem to be sour,” she said, sounding pathetically woeful even to her ears.

“Everything at its appointed time, lass,” he said, and then he laughed and said again, “Everything at its appointed time. Dinna be so eager to get the bit between yer teeth. 'Twas Isobella's moment in the sun and shadows, not yours.”

She clapped her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes suspiciously before she said, “For having been born in the thirteenth century, you have an amazing vocabulary.”

“I dinna spend all my time moldering.”

Her brows went up. “Oh? Do you sit in on college courses?”

“Aye, I have from time to time. And I have been known to visit libraries, but I dinna check oot books.”

She laughed heartily and thought it had been a while since she had done so. How she wished the laughter in her heart would last, but no one was that fortunate.

“Faith! 'Tis a relief, lass, to hear yer laughter. I was beginning to think I would have to camp oot her for a few days to accomplish that. Ye are no' as quick to bring to humor as yer sister.”

“Isobella is the muse of laughter in our family.”

“'Twould not hurt ye to pick up a bit o' it.”

Her glum spirits were returning, and with a certain curiosity. “I hope Ronan does not suffer still.”

“Like ye, he has accepted his fate, and he understands that ye are both innocent in this matter.”

Her head jerked around and she eyed him suspiciously. “Did you cause this to happen?”

“Nae, I didna.”

“Did you know it would happen?”

“Aye.”

“I don't suppose it was something you could change.”

“Nay, lass. Would that I could, but I canna change yer destiny.”

She frowned and asked, “Well, can't you ease the pain of it a wee bit?”

“I have been trying to do so for the past half hour.”

She laughed. “Apparently, it's working.”

“Weel, working wi' ye is more like the tide—it comes in and it goes oot. And so ye are off for Soutra Aisle. 'Tis a good choice ye ha' made, for yer medical skills are sorely needed. Many a babe in the Highlands is afflicted with the coughing sickness ye call whooping cough.”

“Believe me… I will be more than glad to return to medicine.”

“Ye may not feel that way fer long.”

“If you mean I will be busy, that's wonderful! I'm glad to know I'm headed in the right direction.”

“And now that ye realize that yer world isna going to end in the near future, I will bid ye adieu.”

“Will you visit me at Soutra Aisle?”

“Mayhap, I will…”

“But what if…”

Before she could finish her sentence, he mounted his great black charger and turned away, just as his image began to shimmer and grow dim. A moment later, she saw the outline of a knight on a great black horse riding down the beach until it was absorbed into the sunlight.

The only reminder that he had been here at all was a lovely fragrance that seemed to accompany her as she turned and made her way back to the castle.

Later that evening, after supper was over, she lay in her bed, gazing through the open window, and watched the moon slip slowly into place beneath a scattering of stars as it settled over Màrrach Castle. Silent, round, and brilliant, its light was a shimmering moonbeam that slipped as softly as a babe's breath into her room, and Elisabeth slept a charmed sleep, deep in the land of shadows.

***

The next morning, she awoke from that bower of peace called slumber and remembered that as a child she called it the land of Nod for their mother told her children that it was a magical place where children went to sleep. She stretched, feeling at peace with the world and, more importantly, with herself.

Full of a mixture of excitement and energy, she dressed, ate breakfast, and arrived in the solar before the others. Once everyone had gathered, Elisabeth put down her mending, which she had been given, because her other talents were found to be so lacking that she was appointed chief mender
.
Some might consider that humiliating, but Elisabeth saw it as a blessing, for she could practice her surgery stitches, although wishing as she did that she had a nice bowl of oranges to practice on.

She waited until after the chatter died down, before she glanced at Isobella, looking lovely in a dress of a deep golden color, with the sun shining down upon her head like a radiant halo, which made her look like an angel. Motherhood became her, and if possible, she was even more beautiful than before.

Next, she glanced at the expectant but puzzled faces of each of the sisters of Alysandir: Marion, Sybilla, Barbara, and the youngest, flame-haired Margaret. “I know all of you suspect something is going on here, and it is. I have decided the best thing for me is to leave Màrrach.

“I don't think I need to explain the reasons why, just as I know I don't have to tell you that I will miss each of you in a thousand different ways. I do not see this as a separation, for a part of each of you will go with me, and I promise I shall come back to visit and hope you will do likewise once I am settled.”