True Love Brides 02 - The Highlander’s Curse (2 page)

The vegetation was lush in the glade, verdant green and abundant. The trees arched high overhead, casting a dappled shade over the valley. There was no sound, not so much as a whistle of birdsong, only the trickle of water from the spring far below and the faint rustle of the leaves overhead.

Annelise could easily convince herself she had stepped into a magical realm. She recalled all the tales she had heard at Kinfairlie’s hearth over the years. Her favorite tales were those of Arthur and his knights, and their adventures. They were noble and good men, quick to defend maidens and conquer monsters. The Lady of the Lake, she who granted the blade Excalibur to Arthur, was said to abide in an enchanted glade.

Could she be the one who fulfilled the requests of all these pilgrims? Annelise could readily believe it to be so.

She halted beside the spring and took a deep breath. It made her feel bold and strong simply to stand in such a place, especially when she considered the valor of the women in the tales of Arthur. She could be like one of them and fight for her desire.

The pond was but ten feet across and roughly encircled by large stones. The source bubbled through the rocks, making a faint trickle as it flowed into the pond. The surface of the pond was smooth, like a dark mirror, and it reflected the leaf canopy and sky overhead. Strips of fabric or clooties were densely clustered around its perimeter, most of them red and many of them hanging into the water itself.

Annelise closed her eyes and whispered a prayer. She removed a ribbon from her hair and dipped it into the water, ensuring that it was fully soaked. She knew that when the ribbon dried and then disintegrated, her ailment would disappear along with it. She reached up and bound the ribbon to a branch overhead. It hung straight down, dripping.

Annelise surveyed the peaceful spot and inhaled deeply of its tranquility. She brushed off a rock, then dropped to her knees, closing her eyes to pray again.

It was then that she realized she was not alone.

*

Garrett MacLachlan darted through the forest in pursuit of the wolf, not caring that he left all he knew far behind. He had always found peace in the forest, but now he wanted no part of men.

He had been shamed, discredited and denied.

Worse, all those he loved were dead.

He would make his future in the wilderness.

His pursuit of the ravenous wolf suited his foul mood perfectly. The beast had eaten well at the expense of many others, several of them dear to Garrett, and Garrett would see it pay for its crimes. It had led him on a long chase, but soon, the hunt would end.

He had discerned that this wolf was uncommonly elusive. It was larger than most, but moved with astonishing speed. Further, this wolf was silent in the forest and could disappear into shadows, as if it were not truly of this earth or as if it had never been. It was cunning even beyond its fellows.

Even now, he caught only glimpses of it moving ahead, a fleeting shape against the patterned shadows of the leaves.

Garrett would have lost it a hundred times, if not for his curse. It was his awareness of the thoughts of others that gave him an advantage. For once in his life, his legacy had value. Still, he had had to resort to listening to the thoughts of other creatures in the forest to find this wolf. Either his ability was fading or this wolf was wily. Garrett knew which of those choices he would favor.

On this day, Garrett felt the wolf’s acute thirst and guessed its intent.

He was aware the moment it smelled water. He was not surprised when the wolf slipped over the ridge and descended into the hollow between the hills. He heard the bubbling of the water as he crept behind the creature and realized the wolf had found a spring.

The wolf glanced back more than once, pausing beneath a shrub or in the shade of a tree, its eyes gleaming as it sniffed the air. Garrett knew it sensed it was being stalked, and he dared not let it perceive him. It was hungry beyond belief.

It would rip out his throat for coming too close.

It would rip out the throat of any creature it could. The wolf had not paused to eat in a week. Now, hunger made its belly growl, and hunger—Garrett hoped—would drive it to err.

Garrett was not even certain where he was, only that he was close to his prey. It did not matter. Once the wolf was dead, he would disappear into the forest forever.

In the view of many, he already had.

Memories crowded his mind, making him wince at what he had endured these past months. Grief welled in his throat, threatening to choke him, and Garrett struggled against its assault. He would grieve when the wolf was dead.

When justice had been done.

Garrett was suddenly aware that the wolf had a keener sense of him. Anxiety would draw the wolf’s attention, and his concerns had no place in this hunt. All was simple in the forest. There were hunters and prey.

He knew which he would be.

The wolf’s wariness faded, perhaps because of its thirst. Garrett saw it leave the shadows. On quick feet, it entered a glade dappled in sunlight, a serene place of rich green. There were rags of all colors hanging from the trees at the bottom of the valley, a sign that people came to this place to pray for healing. The wolf hesitated, as if momentarily disconcerted by the scents of so many humans, but it made its choice and headed for the water.

Garrett waited and watched. He could see the light on the pool around the spring, turning it to a silver mirror. He could see the wolf clearly from this position, and he was downwind of it. He reached out to sense the wolf’s thoughts and felt its confidence.

The wolf was silvery grey, its snout and paws darker than its back, its tail lush. Its pelt should adorn a lady’s bed, Garrett’s lady’s bed, a token that was proof of his intent to protect the woman pledged to be his own. But Garrett had no woman and he doubted there was a woman alive who could accept his curse. His life was lonely and he feared it would remain so, particularly as his ailment had suddenly become so much worse.

Perhaps it was simpler to choose to be alone.

The wolf stepped into a patch of sunlight, glanced about itself, then bent to drink.

Garrett raised his crossbow to fire, then froze when the wolf straightened. He felt its heartbeat accelerate. It raised its head and folded its ears back, sniffing and scanning, then snarled.

That was when Garrett saw the woman. She was on her knees as if in prayer, her head bowed and her hands folded before herself. He had not seen her at first because her cloak was green and her hood pulled over her hair. She was utterly still, as few people in his experience could be.

Her thoughts were so quiet that even he with his gift had not been aware of her presence. That astonished him.

At the wolf’s snarl, though, her head snapped up and terror flooded her mind. Garrett had time to see that she was lovely before the wolf leapt toward her with teeth bared.

Without hesitation, Garrett lifted the crossbow and fired.

A lesser hunter would have struck the maiden instead of the wolf. The angle was against him and the wolf moved quickly. But Garrett’s arrow went straight through the wolf, and he knew he struck its heart. The wolf’s body jerked, and the beast howled as it fell. The cry turned plaintive and faded, even as the blood streamed through its fur to the ground. Garrett grimaced at the explosion of pain and fury that filled the beast’s thoughts. He staggered a bit under the intensity of its reaction, for he had never felt the like, but the wolf’s anguish already began to fade.

Garrett strode toward the fallen wolf, pulling out his knife.

The lady had not moved. Garrett was surprised that she had not screamed. As he bent over the wolf and ensured that he finished what was begun, he was aware that she seemed to have been struck to stone. There was a prospect that was less than ideal. The wolf’s pain ended, a void of silence filling Garrett’s mind where his awareness of the wolf had been.

Where were the woman’s thoughts?

Was she simple? Was that why her mind was still?

He had never met anyone who exuded such tranquility and now that the wolf was dead, he could consider the mystery. Was she mute? This was a place where one prayed for healing, so she might have some ailment.

’Twould be a crime for one so lovely to be less than perfect. Garrett did not dare to look directly at her, not before he had composed his features. He knew the torment he experienced at the sound of other thoughts could be read in his expression—particularly when one died as this wolf had done. He wiped his knife blade on the hem of his cloak before returning it to his scabbard. He would remove the pelt from the carcass when she was gone, lest he shock her.

Still he marveled that he sensed no tumult of thoughts and questions. She had been frightened and now he knew she was relieved. No more than that. Slowly, so as not to alarm her, he raised his gaze to meet hers. He was aware of the blood on his kilt and on his hands, the grim finality of what he had done. He was aware of the dirt on his boots and the mire on his skin, for he had been stalking the wolf for many weeks.

She was watching him, but not with horror or disgust. Her breath was coming quickly, her eyes wide. They were a magnificent shade of green and thickly lashed, her features lovely and fine. Her hood had fallen back to reveal that her hair was auburn, and neatly plaited. Her hair was uncovered though and she wore no wimple, indicating that she was a maiden. Her slender hands were still raised, her fingertips upon her lush mouth.

“Are you injured?” he asked, when still she said nothing.

She shook her head, her gaze darting to the wolf and then to his sheathed blade. She studied his hands for a moment, then looked at his face and swallowed. “You moved so quickly when I could not move at all.” Her voice was low and soft, filled with a gentleness that made Garrett yearn to protect her.

Not simple, then, and not a mute.

She must be one who had come to pray here, one who did not understand the forest and its ways. What did she pray for? Garrett wanted very much to know. Why was she alone and undefended?

Only then did he hear the soft whisper of her thoughts, a stream of questions and impressions no more intrusive than the murmur of a brook. He sensed her curiosity about him, her awareness of him. But her presence did not trouble him, as that of others did. He could stand and be aware of her thoughts and not wish to flee. Indeed, he was intrigued by all that he sensed and saw. He wanted only to draw closer to her and learn more.

Why was she so different from others he had known?

Could Mhairi’s promise have been right?

Could this beautiful maiden be his future? Garrett doubted a man as cursed as he knew himself to be could ever see such fortune.

“The choice was easily made between the lady and the wolf,” he said with resolve. “I knew that if I did not act quickly, the wolf would make its own choice—and that on this matter, as on so many others, the beast and I would not agree.”

He had hoped to tempt her smile and was disappointed when he failed.

“You have tracked this wolf then,” she said, her gaze falling to its corpse. “You are a hunter.” He nodded, feeling her respect for that task. “How long and how far?”

“Too long and too far.” Garrett dared to take a step closer. “Though I cannot object to where the path has led me.” He dared to meet her gaze and let her see his admiration of her beauty.

She caught her breath. He sensed her desire to flee, a flutter of panic within her, then she mustered a determination. She held her ground and lifted her chin. He was fascinated that this exquisite creature might fight an inner battle that was in any way similar to his own.

“Do you know where you are?”

Garrett smiled. “I stand in the company of a lovely lady.” It was no lie. He realized that he had previously had no luck with uttering the words of a courtier because he did not believe them to be true. In this case, he was surely snared.

And he did not wish to be free.

“I would do the same again, if only to see her smile.”

She regarded him, her cheeks burning crimson. “I apologize, sir, for I am poorly practiced in this game.”

“Surely not. A lady so lovely as yourself much have many ardent admirers.”

She smiled then, and Garrett was dazzled by the sight. “Surely so!” she argued, her eyes twinkling. “I am routinely struck mute in the company of others and overlooked by most as a result. I have no suitors, sir.”

Garrett smiled. “Yet you speak with me, quite readily it seems.” He felt lighter in her presence, at ease in a way he seldom did. Indeed, it seemed that killing the wolf had changed his prospects for the better.

The maiden surveyed him, then exhaled. “Indeed. Perhaps I should imperil myself more often.”

Garrett laughed for the first time in months and her smile broadened. She seemed to sparkle before him, her delight in their conversation as great as his own. “Perhaps the reward is not worth such a sacrifice. Perhaps there are other ways to coax your words forth.”

She flicked a glance at the spring, then back to him.

“Surely you cannot have come to pray for a suitor?”

“I came to pray for boldness, sir, and a measure of it seems to have found me.” She grimaced. “Either that or terror loosed my tongue.”