Spellbound (7 page)

14

It was mid-day. Maighdlin studied the wedding gown from where she sat by the hearth, the glow of burning peat on her face.

The
sleeves were billowy, gathered delicately at the wrist. The waist tapered in and then out, in voluminous soft, creamy folds. ‘It was truly a lovely gown.
That had belonged to someone else.
Her own clothes had been taken away, and Maighdlin expected she’d never see them again.

She’d
been bathed, her hair washed, and the girl Lillias had expertly brushed her hair to shining softness. A long, single braid of dark, red fire hung down her back. She’d been dressed in the wedding gown as a seamstress noted where alterations had to be made and then the gown had been whisked away. Lillias had gone, and the guard had bolted the door.

Maighdlin
wore the bed gown now. It was softer than any she'd ever owned. She ran her fingers over the fabric as she wondered what the Highlander would wear to the ceremony. She hadn’t received the mirror she requested. “I failed, Niall,” she whispered. There was no response. Only a dull ache in her heart.

She
studied the shadows dancing on the walls. She’d seen a noble wedding once. The villagers had been invited to the MacDuff keep. Guests walked in from miles around to see it. She’d been a child then.

She’d
walked to see it too, with Haddon, Erskina, Elliot and his family. The bride had worn a cream-colored wedding dress that dazzled, and a horseshoe on her arm for good luck. It had been a beautiful gown, but not as beautiful as Fenalla's, a gown the woman would never wear now. Elliot had grasped her hand and told her that someday he would marry her, and she’d laughed at his boyish charm.

The
groom had worn his clan’s plaid over his saffron shirt and trews. He’d also worn white hose and gillie brogues. A brooch and a piece of lucky heather adorned his plaid. A piper had performed to signal the cutting of the cake. Maighdlin remembered the bride shyly slicing the first piece, her delicate hand guided eagerly by her new husband.

“
The bride will have sewn a hair into the hem of her wedding dress for good luck,” Erskina had whispered to Maighdlin. “Or let a drop of blood fall onto an inner seam.” Erskina also admonished, “The bride must ne’er try on a completed dress in advance of her wedding day.”

Hundreds
were fed, for a week at least. The guests made merry with claret, whisky, and dancing while bride and groom were banished to sleep on straw in a dark barn. Maighdlin had never had any visions of her own wedding day. She’d never, in fact, had any visions about herself. Perhaps, she thought sadly, she was meant to be alone and unloved.

What
would the marriage ceremony to the Highlander be like with so much anger, sadness, and tragedy surrounding the MacAlister clan? Why couldn’t she see her own future? She shivered. She’d tried her dress on before the ceremony. But surely her luck could not be worse than it was now.

Maighdlin
had no doubt Kade would keep his promises to show her no mercy. He was blinded to everything but revenge, filled with rage and sadness for all he’d lost. A bitterness of her own threatened to rise in her throat. Here was a man who’d been bred to fight from babyhood. All his education and training directed toward toughening his body and mind. His school was a courtyard full of grunting men and slashing weapons; his home a keep, perpetually prepared against assault. Maybe
his
dreams were filled with screams and riderless horses, fallen warriors pinned to the grass by spear shafts and Lochaber axes.

Hours
later, when she lay abed for want of nothing else to do, she heard the door being unlatched. Lillias walked to the bed without meeting her eyes and placed something on it. Then she left quietly. Maighdlin stared. She opened the small sack.
Lillias had brought her a mirror.

She
picked it up and looked at her image. She almost didn’t recognize the woman who stared back at her. Her face was flushed, her lips slightly parted, her dark eyes intense. And her hair shimmered like fire in the soft light of the hearth. Was it the touch of that arrogant Highlander that caused a deeper flush to spread to her cheekbones? Truly, she’d never been kissed by a man like that before. Her experience with the exasperating creatures was quite limited.

When
Kade had pulled her close, she’d sensed a very strong need in him, a desire that threatened to consume them both. The kiss had been unexpectedly tentative. It was not at all like the violent assault of Tomas’ lips.

She
knew Kade had been away in Ireland, fighting, for three long years. Had he remained faithful to his betrothed? Had he not fed his body’s needs in all that time? Was it simply that he hadn’t had a woman because none compared to Fenalla?

She
was his prisoner, and yet the caress of his tongue inside her mouth was not what she expected. It was not the punishment he'd promised. She'd responded to him, she couldn’t help it, to the feel of his tall, hard body pressed against hers. His warm breath had mingled with hers. She’d inhaled his masculine scent. Twisted her fingers in his midnight-black hair. When he’d ended the kiss, she’d moaned softly, not wanting it to end, slowly opening her eyes, unable to take them from the sight of his sensual mouth. Had Kade been surprised as well by the soft searching of his kiss? After all, he'd sworn to hate her; her very existence offended him.

Though
it had grown dark, through the arrow-slit of a window high up in the tower, Maighdlin could still hear the men in the courtyard below, practicing with their weapons, swords striking swords, the thud of steel on oiled targes. Shouting. Grunting. Scuffling.
Preparing to kill.

The
day had been warm; the men would be stripped of their coats and plaids, training in their shirts or bare-chested. All she needed was a bit of luck, and Niall’s guidance, to get out of the keep, to keep well clear of the courtyard of blood-thirsty men.

Maighdlin
rose from the bed, wrapped the small oval mirror in a cloth, and shattered it on the edge of the hearth. She opened the cloth and stared at her reflection, broken into pieces.

15

Maighdlin’s stomach grumbled. Though it had only been hours, it seemed much longer waiting for Lillias to return. A different girl arrived this time, bringing with her the evening meal.

The
girl was about her size, Maighdlin thought, watching her carefully arrange the tray of food. She was pale-skinned, her eyes a bright blue. Wisps of cornflower-colored hair strayed from her cap.

The
girl turned to say something but stopped when she saw the sharp piece of glass that Maighdlin wielded. “’Tis truly sorry I am, lass. I dunna wish to do this, but I am held here against my will, by yer laird. What's yer name?”

“
Neilina,” she croaked.

“
Trade clothes with me, Neilina, and I willna hurt ye.”

The
girl stood, mouth agape. “Nay, I canna do such a thing!” she cried. “The chieftain wouldna have it!”

Maighdlin
nearly gasped as Niall’s ghostly image appeared behind the servant girl.
Threaten to turn her into an old hag by mornin’. Tell her Ronald will no’ be wantin’ the likes of her in his bed again, once he sees her all gray and wrinkled!

‘Tis
cruel, Niall.

Time
runneth out, my lady.

Maighdlin
lifted the jagged slice of glass, and the girl took a step back. “Do ye ken what they say about me?” Maighdlin asked. “If ye do, I think mayhap ye should fear me more than yer ruthless laird.”

Neilina
nodded. “They say yer a…Seer. Mayhap a
witch
.”

“
Neilina, sorry I’ll be if I have to turn ye into an old hag. But if ye don’t do as I say, I’ll cast a spell, and in the mornin’, you’ll be gray as stone and wrinkled as storm-tossed sand, and then will Ronald be so eager to join ye in yer bed?”

The
girl visibly swallowed. “How do ye know about Ronald?” She bit her lower lip. “Ye must be a witch! I’ll do what ye say if ye promise no’ to turn me into an old, withered hag!”

When
they were finished trading clothing, Maighdlin told the girl she must not make a peep until morning, and if she did as told, she would wake as her bonnie self and not a crotchety old hag. Or a goat.

The
girl watched round-eyed as Maighdlin stuffed a small sack with bread, cheese, and an apple. Maighdlin hoped the disguise would be enough. She wore the girl’s plain, woolen tunic. It had elbow-length sleeves, and the hem was fringed, the waist tied with a simple rope of the same fabric. The plain brown moccasins were a bit big on her feet, but they’d do. She pulled the cap low on her forehead. She’d have to leave the day jacket and other clothing behind, for it would be too suspicious for her to carry any of it.

Maighdlin
fetched the empty tray from the table and quietly left the girl, latching the door shut and praying Neilina would keep silent until the morn, giving her ample time to get away. She kept her head down as she descended the steps and passed the snoring guard, who fortunately was not Ronald. She lifted her eyes and saw Niall at the end of the dark passageway. He motioned toward a back stair and then disappeared.

She
followed him through two more back passages, down twisting, narrow stairs, damp and lit by rush lights, until his image grew faint and faded. Maighdlin then found herself in a bustling kitchen. She hid the piece of glass beneath her tunic.

A
stout, red-faced woman shouted orders at servant girls, who ran back and forth between the kitchen and main hall, serving platters of food to boisterous, sweaty men seated at the main table and on benches near the walls.

Maighdlin
kept her head down while she placed the empty tray on a large table where two maids sliced carrots and onions. Smoke billowed from the cavernous fireplace, where all sorts of meats roasted deliciously on hooks, and stews and soups bubbled in great iron cauldrons hung over the fire on hooks and chains. Maighdlin dared not chance another look into the main hall to see if Kade was about. She made for the opposite door, but before she got two steps, the stout, red-faced woman’s strident voice stopped her. “Neilina, where go ye? I hope ‘tis to the pantry to fetch more bread! ‘Tis sorely needed. The men are hungry from training, and we canna seem to move fast enough!”

“
Aye,” Maighdlin said quietly.

“
Well, be quick about it, girl!” A clattering of trays took the woman’s attention, and a string of vile oaths flew into the hot air. A young serving girl with hair the color of almonds looked bewildered. “I’m sorry,” she said meekly.

“
Clumsy chit!” the woman yelled.

Niall’s
ghost appeared. He smiled mischievously. During the chaos that ensued, as pots flew through the air and a headless chicken on a roasting hook lifted its tiny, featherless wings and released itself from being roasted, screams abounded. Several women crossed themselves. One or two fainted. Maighdlin took advantage of the melee and grabbed a
sgian dubh
from the table, a plain, wooden knife used during a meal, and slipped it into her pouch.

She
made her way into the courtyard. It was dark now, and thankfully, emptied of sweating, grunting men swinging sharp, gleaming weapons. The stables were even darker.

She’d
rarely been on a horse by herself, and hadn’t thought about how she would accomplish leading one from the stable, mounting it, and getting past the guards at the main gate. She wandered around quietly, not sure which horse to take, for surely she could not accomplish her journey on foot.

Sighing,
she moved outside the stable and rounded a corner. And promptly fell on her arse as she nearly walked into the side of a magnificent, dark steed. Niall’s tall, ghostly form sat astride the horse.

“
Surely they will think to burn me at the stake for all the mischief caused tonight, if I am caught,” Maighdlin whispered. “And how will ye explain that headless chicken flying from the hearth? Pots flying through the air? And I dunna know how to ride a horse!”

“
Ye willna be caught,” Niall said. “I couldna help myself. The chicken was a nice touch, ye think?”

Maighdlin
shook her head and sighed. “Were ye this much of a prankster in life?”

“
Aye. My brother told me so all the time. He said I showed a lack of dignity that he had to make up for by being twice as serious. I dunna think my brother laughs nearly enough. The sad sack could use some lightening up.”

Maighdlin
didna want to think of the Highland warrior now, of how he frightened her, of how he made her feel when he kissed her. “How do I mount the beast?”

Niall
showed her how, and after two tries, falling on her arse both times while Niall laughed, she sat rigidly on the steed’s back. She could feel Niall sitting behind her, though she could no longer see him. “Take the reins. I’ll show ye how to guide the horse.”

“
But what of the guards? I willna pass unnoticed through the main gate. How can I explain myself, a servant girl off on a midnight ride?”

“
Pray cease your worries,” Niall said. “I have little enough energy left for a bit ‘o magic at the gate and to guide ye to the old kirk. Oh, and the beast has a name. ‘Tis Rhona, and as a lady, she doesna take kindly to being called a beast.”

“
Lead the way,” Maighdlin said, her stomach knotted into a ball of anxiety.

Niall
showed her how to gently press her knees into Rhona’s sleek sides, and soon they were walking in the shadows toward the main gate. He stopped short of the gate by ten feet, still hidden in gloomy shadow. It was fortunate it wasn’t a full moon.

Maighdlin
knew instinctively that Rhona had been Niall’s horse while he’d been alive. She stood still as a statue and awaited Niall’s command, sensing his presence though she could not see him. Maighdlin had always known animals were special, that they saw and felt things humans could not comprehend. Her heart beat wildly in her chest. If she were caught…she didn’t want to think of Kade’s anger, of what he might do to her.

“
I feel yer fear. So can Rhona. You must try to calm yerself,” Niall said. “I’m going to throw my voice and it will sound just like Kade’s, but ‘twill be me. Trust me. Also, ye will smell smoke, but nothing will truly be burning.”

“
What, no dancing, headless chickens?” Maighdlin quipped.

Niall
laughed softly. “Yer a feisty one. No wonder my brother has no idea what to do with ye.”

“
Oh, but he does. And 'tis no’ pleasant, I assure ye.”

“
Dunna fash yerself, I know my brother better than anyone. He may frighten ye, but he wouldna harm ye.”

“
I wish I could believe ye, Niall. Truly, I do. But he has lost everything he e’er held dear.” She closed her eyes briefly and then opened them. “By the way, ye are the least frightening ghost I’ve e’er met.”

“
I’m insulted lass, well and nigh. I shall have to work on that.” But she knew he wasn’t.

A
moment later, she heard a shout. “Guards! The stables are afire! Come quickly!” The smell of acrid smoke filled the air. It was so real that Maighdlin coughed. The sound of Kade’s voice startled her though Niall had warned her it would not truly be his voice she heard. The guards scrambled down from their posts along the high gate. Oh, more mischief! First, the mess in the kitchen and the fear that would be created by unexplained flying chickens and pots. Now this. The confusion of a stable not truly afire. Niall’s missing steed. And there was Neilina.

Maighdlin
imagined Kade’s wrath when the servant would explain what happened, how she’d been threatened with a broken shard of glass from a mirror, and told she’d be turned into a toothless hag or a goat, why she wore Maighdlin’s clothing, why Maighdlin was gone. Maighdlin could imagine the look of murderous rage that would cross Kade’s dark features.

She
pressed her knees to the steed’s sides once more. Rhona kicked up dirt as she shot through the gate, and Maighdlin held on for dear life. As the keep receded behind her, she prayed harder than she ever had that no one had seen her leave.
She did not look back….