To Bewitch a Highlander (Isle of Mull series) (3 page)

“They come in secret”, her mother answered. “’Tis a secret they keep from their men, from each other, even from themselves. They come because they feel I am their last hope.”

She held in her hands a bowl with murky water, the remains of a potion. Shoney knew she would go outside and pour it into the ground among the sacred stones as a prayer of gratitude to the Mother of all for the power to heal. As she opened the door to leave she turned to Shoney and said, “They come because their god does not hear the voices of women.”

“If they will not speak of their visit to anyone, why must I hide?”

“Because you are precious to me. ‘Tis the duty of all mothers to protect their children.”

Shoney scowled at her mother in frustration. Then Brethia put down the bowl and cupped Shoney’s cheeks in her hands. “I know you feel like a bird whose wings have been clipped, but the cage that awaits you out there I cannot save you from forever. You will be desired for your beauty, but your name demands you be loathed. The blending of desire and hate will create deception, desperation, and pain. I will shield you from this fate for as long as I live, but after I die, it will be up to you.” Her mother placed a gentle kiss on her forehead and smiled her beautiful smile, and then she left.

For a moment, Shoney felt her mother’s presence again. She saw her elegant, slim figure cross through the doorway and her blond hair shimmer in the moonlight like ropes of silver. Her mother had been so exquisite to behold, but she disguised this well; the clansfolk only ever saw an old crone, with a bent back, covered from head to toe in a dirty and tattered cloak.

When her mother died Shoney vowed to honor her wishes. She took the cloak down from its peg and swept it over her shoulders and pulled the hood low over her head. With a bent back, she mimicked her mother’s walk, and so the witch lived on. The clan knew nothing of Shoney’s real existence, until now.

Shoney released a sigh as she turned her attention to a large, intricately carved wooden table, which dominated her small quarters. She began to empty her pockets of the herbs she gathered that day. She gazed upon the series of small glass bottles and leather pouches, littering the table’s surface. Each one possessed healing powers to safeguard one’s body or soul from harm. They were curative and soothing, but because they were made by her hand, the clan considered each one to be an act of witchcraft.

“So much waste”, she sighed.

Shoney was a gifted healer, and she knew she could bring relief to many who suffered, if only they welcomed her.

And then you wouldn’t be alone
.

The words came unbidden to her mind, and she chased them away with a shake of her head. She did not need anyone.

Her lips curled in a wry smile. Potion making was not her only talent. She inherited a special gift. Like her mother before her, and like all of the women of Shoney’s descent, she could see beyond what her eyes allowed. She had visions. A warning flash of white light preceded each one, and then Shoney gave herself to her dreams. Truths were revealed and fortunes told, but the visions came to her; she did not control them, which meant she could not see everything that had yet to be, or else she might have known to keep her head cloaked today when taking aim at the buck.

Shoney exhaled a slow breath as she glanced around her empty house. The silence at times seemed more deafening than the crashing surf at high tide. She knew no potions or chants to cure that which ailed her most—her unrelenting loneliness. She imagined Ronan for a moment in his home surrounded by a multitude of friends and family, laughter and warmth. Once again she was filled with rage. She felt consumed by it, and, acting on impulse, she rushed outside and cried out in the direction of the MacKinnon village of Gribun.

“My gods are born of this land,” she yelled as she stomped her foot on the brown earthen floor. Then she twirled in a circle with her arms raised high as if straining to touch the canopy of bright stars above her head.

“My gods are of the trees and sky and of the ocean that surrounds us all.”

Then she ceased her spinning and whispered, “I am of this land, Ronan, son of Nathair, future laird of the MacKinnon. You are not.”

Chapter 3

Ronan stared past the jagged cliffs toward the crisp, white swells of the sea and watched the waves roll inland, but nothing filled his mind for long before images of long golden hair stole his every thought.

“Hellfire”, he swore as he spurred his mount to ride faster over the wet, soft earth.

“Tell me again, Ronan, why I am not as this moment tending to the plant of the north fields as your father commanded?”

Ronan had forgotten his friend trailing reluctantly at the rear. He turned in his seat and gave Aidan a look of displeasure.

“You can’t blame me for thinking this is all a little…unbelievable”, Aidan said.

“So you think I’m lying. Is that it?” Ronan snapped.

“No, you are no liar, Ronan, But you are my oldest friend, and you will be laird one day, and so I hesitate using the word
mad
,” Aidan chuckled, irritating Ronan further.

They rode on in silence for which he was grateful. The purple bracken spread its springtime fingers over the sloping moors in thick beds of color, only to taper off as it met the hardness of the isle’s rocky coastline. He followed the violet color to the cliffs to see if she hid in one of the many caves the raging seas had carved out of the towering rock. He reached the bluffs and did not hesitate directing his horse down the steep slope. As he descended, a nagging feeling started to chip away at his resolve. His pursuit of the girl had already taken him on several fruitless missions.

Over the past fortnight, he combed the hills and forests of Northern Mull and found no trace of her, and when he exhausted all possibilities, he broadened his search. He traveled south to where MacKinnon lands abutted those of the MacLeans, a boundary marked by Benmore Mountain. The tall peak surged out of the earth and awarded anyone willing to climb to its top a magnificent view of the island. His feet followed a path up the steep height of the mountain to the windy summit where he scanned every direction, foolishly searching for long flaxen hair.

If she wasn’t in the caves, then he might have to admit defeat. There was simply no other place to look. He pictured her lovely form shivering and frigid, lying on a rock strewn cavern floor, her golden hair wet and tangled with seaweed. His grip tightened on the reins as concern for her safety mounted in his mind. But then his hand moved to his head where he felt the slight lump that remained from his fall in the woods, and he decided she deserved to be little cold and wet. She had after all left him to bleed to death.

“Ronan, why are we here? What sort of girl would make her home in a cave? Even if she was down here, would you really want to be better acquainted with the strange cave girl?”

Ronan’s musings were interrupted by Aidan’s jest. Once again, he had forgotten his friend’s presence, but despite Aidan’s humor, Ronan witnessed a look of trepidation flitter across his face, which forced Ronan to admit to his own reckless behavior. He was pushing their horses as if heading into battle and steering them down treacherous ravines with little thought to the welfare of beast or man. Ronan pulled on the reins and brought his horse to a halt.

“I know you think that I am insane, but she is out there, somewhere, and I must find her.”

Aidan rolled his eyes and raised his face to the clear blue sky as if beseeching a heavenly body to intervene and save him. Then he sighed and once again addressed Ronan.

“It was a dream. You must listen to me. She does not exist.”

“And this crack on my head, I suppose you are going to claim that I dreamt this as well.”

“I know you fell. It was I who found you asleep like a babe, lying in a pool of blood and drool.”

He gave Aidan a look that would cause most men to doubt themselves, but Aidan didn’t flinch.

“I’m telling you, Ronan, it was a vision, nothing more.”

Ronan raised his reins to give them a snap, but Aidan gripped his forearm, stopping him. “You must listen to reason. You lost your footing and smashed your head against a rock, and in your sleep you conjured visions of beauty.” Aidan lips curled into a mischievous smile, “Or mayhap the fair folk took some pleasure at your expense.”

Ronan shook his head. At first glance, the radiance of her hair, which shone like burnished gold, and the blaze of her steel gray eyes gave the impression of magic’s imprint, but then as he fell he saw round fearful eyes and heard her piercing scream. Faeries were strangers to both fear and surprise. He kicked his horse into a gallop, but Aidan was relentless, and he soon caught up to Ronan still intent on persuading him to forget the girl. Only Ronan couldn’t. For the past fortnight he thought of nothing else.

“I’m telling you, beautiful maidens do not just appear as if from thin air in the middle of the forest. ‘Tis not so easy as that, or else every man would bide his time in the thicket waiting for a wife.”

“Laugh at my expense one more time, Aidan, and you will regret it.”

“Alright, I yield,” Aidan said as he raised both hands in mock surrender. “But, friend, let me ask you this. If this maid of, as you say, unspeakable beauty just happened to be in the woods hunting—a task often undertaken by women”, Aidan added dryly, “how did you manage to fall into the ravine?”

“I told you already, Aidan. I thought I was alone. I had the stag in my sights, and then out of nowhere she was there, an armed and beautiful woman. Imagine my surprise. Then she turned her arrow on me, and the earth gave way beneath my feet.”

Aidan’s badgering affected Ronan, but not in the way Aidan hoped. Barely restrained irritation surged within him seeking release. If Aidan said one more thing to him about dreams and faeries as if Ronan was some addle-minded old woman, then he was going to show Aidan exactly why he needed to be afraid.

Ronan stood almost a full head taller than his friend and his shoulders were nigh twice as large. He briefly glanced at Aidan who had finally quieted, and so he must have sensed that he had pushed him too far. Anger came easily to Ronan—he knew it and so did everyone else, and that moment was no exception. His muscles stiffened with rage. Sure, he was overreacting, but to hell with it. He had been in a foul mood ever since he awoke with a screaming headache amid the rocks on the ravine floor, surrounded by his clansmen whose concerned expressions turned to taunting grins when he told them that he had not been attacked but had merely fallen. His pride was still as sore as his skull. He kept a little dignity by refraining from telling anyone but Aidan about the girl, but now, he wished he had kept it to himself entirely.

Aidan gave Ronan an encouraging smile and said, “Well, if she does exist we’ll find her. Come along. Let’s have a look in the caves.”

“I don’t know what annoys me more, when you fight me or when you coddle me”, Ronan growled.

As quick as Ronan was to anger, Aidan was as patient. In fact, Ronan loathed admitting how much he relied on his friend to keep his own temper in check.

They jumped from their mounts as they descended the steep incline, which sloped to the water’s edge. As they tramped down Aidan asked after the beauty of the mysterious maiden. Ronan looked over at his friend and saw a wicked gleam in his eye.

Ronan smiled, “I hate to make you jealous, but let’s just say you may no longer be the village beauty.”

Aidan chuckled at his friend’s good natured ribbing as Ronan knew he would. Everyone goaded Aidan about his fair looks.

“Humph”, Aidan said. “The men pester me about my pretty face when all you have to do is cast a girl a smile and she becomes as limpid and pliant as a baby lamb. The only difference between you and me, Ronan, is that most of the time you ignore the women who fawn over you, which, by the by, I will never understand.”

Ronan snorted his disapproval. He and Aidan were nothing alike in appearance or temperament. Aidan’s curly hair was black, and Ronan once overheard Aidan’s eyes described by a maid as bluer than the sky. And much to the amusement of the other warriors, his features were fine like a woman’s.

In contrast, Ronan’s square jaw and deep set brown eyes, which glowed amber when he was angry, were anything but feminine. There was truth, however, to the latter end of Aidan’s claim. All of the mothers in the clan considered Aidan to be the greatest threat to their daughters’ virtues; whereas, being the laird’s son, Ronan was constantly pursued by maids and their mothers, seeking his special favor.

He had little time for women between training the warriors and helping his father take care of the clan, which is why he was utterly bewildered by his own response to this girl. He was ignoring his duties, and if that wasn’t bad enough, he enlisted the aid of one of his father’s most trusted warriors who should be supervising the planting of crops vital to the very survival of the clan.

Ronan stopped in his tracks. “You are right, Aidan. This is madness.”

“Praise the Lord, you’ve come to your senses…er…I meant to say are you sure you wish to abandon your search for this huntress who is as real and alive as you or me?”

“You won’t be alive much longer if you do not wipe that grin off your face. Better yet”, Ronan snarled his fist at the ready, “come closer and let me do it for you.”

“You don’t need that, friend. Put it away. I’ve no desire for a walloping this day.” Aidan sighed, “So what would you have me do now?”

Ronan stood unmoving. He knew not what he wanted, though he knew for certain what he
should
do. He should return to the village, to his responsibilities. He considered all the reasons why he needed to give up, yet he refused them all. His actions were contrary to his duties and his own sense, but he could not turn back knowing that she was out there, somewhere. She was a flesh and blood woman, and he would stop at nothing to find her.

“No, I will carry on, but your part is finished. Return to the village and do my father’s bidding. But tell no one of this.”

Aidan nodded his consent. “Do not stay away long. Your clan needs you, and your father will soon wonder at your whereabouts…if he hasn’t already.”