Chapter Eight
W hen Gille was safely out of harm’s way, Callum drew his sword. The two of them had avoided capture yesterday. He would not sacrifice Gille now just because the villagers had sought help from the English.
“There is no need for aggression here.” Always trying to avoid conflict at all costs, and weighing the situation as dangerous to both parties, Alastair turned to his men. “Stand down.”
The guardsmen did as the laird ordered, but it took his brothers another long moment before they complied. At a signal from one of the Englishmen near the front, the soldiers put away their weapons. The villagers, however, did not.
Alastair stepped forward. “What is the matter?” Alastair might have sheathed his weapon, but Callum knew his brother well enough to know he was searching for strategies to keep the MacLeods safe should the English or the villagers press their slight advantage.
“Good day, Laird MacLeod. I am Thaddius Gilbert.” The English officer gave Alastair a stiff nod. “We were out patrolling when these men came to us, accusing you of harbouring a woman who has committed crimes against Dunvegan village.” The man’s gaze moved to Gille.
“Give us the girl,” one of the villagers shouted.
“She has committed no crimes,” Alastair said despite the interruption. “And even if she had, any punishment for those crimes would fall under my jurisdiction and that of the local magistrate. The villagers have no authority here.”
Lieutenant Gilbert’s gaze shifted back to Alastair. “I was sent here to investigate just what kind of authority you have over the Isle of Skye, Laird MacLeod, and why one of our lieutenants was miraculously promoted despite his past blunders. And several of our men appear to be missing.” He narrowed his gaze. “You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you, MacLeod?”
“The Scottish Highlands are wild and untamed. It is not unheard of for men to lose their way while trying to navigate the territory.”
The lieutenant studied Alastair for a long moment before he visibly relaxed. “As you say, but I’ll tell you this, MacLeod, not everyone in England is pleased with the way things are right now in the Highlands. The threat to the English crown grows stronger each day. I suggest you and your men try to bring as little attention to yourselves as possible, or you might not care for what happens.”
Alastair’s back went rigid. “Is that a threat?”
Lieutenant Gilbert cocked his head. “You and I both know troubling times are brewing. I offer my advice as a suggestion so that you and your clan can maintain your way of life as is.”
Alastair relaxed. “Aye. Troubling times, indeed.” The words had no sooner left his lips than a commotion sounded behind the wall facing the loch. Callum made certain Gille was behind him.
“What the devil?” Lieutenant Gilbert exclaimed as his hands moved to his sword. Six armed men dressed in black sprang over the wall and into the once-peaceful garden. Six more men followed, then a dozen more. “An attack!”
Callum exchanged a glance with Alastair as the latter drew his sword, but before advancing, the laird paused. An odd expression came over his face. “Cease!” Alastair exclaimed. “’Tis Marcus MacDonald and his men. Marcus is family.”
The returned seafaring family froze, their weapons sagged, and their aggression faltered. “What is the meaning of this?” Marcus asked from the front of the group. “Are the English attacking the castle, or has much changed since Rowena and I left?”
Alastair could not stop the smile that pulled up his lips at the confusion etched on Marcus’s face. The situation was serious, but Alastair was pleased to know Marcus and his sister had returned to Dunvegan. “Lieutenant Gilbert and his men are here on a diplomatic mission, I assure you,” Alastair said with an emphasis on “diplomatic.” At the lieutenant’s nod, Alastair added, “Have your men stand down.”
At a signal from Marcus, the seafarers sheathed their swords, encouraging the English soldiers to do the same.
Callum remained with Gille as Alastair strode towards Marcus and clapped him on the shoulder. “What are you doing here? We did not expect you until the year’s end.”
Marcus’s features softened. “We completed our mission compensating all the families I had wronged.” A soft smile came to his lips. “And Rowena wanted to come home.”
The tension in the garden slowly dissipated as Alastair led Marcus back to where Lieutenant Gilbert stood. The English leader was visibly shaken but maintained his composure, planting a seed of hope in Callum that future conflicts with the English might be avoidable. He and Gille had much to accomplish in the next six days. They did not need the English complicating their search for a way to break the curse and find Lottie’s sealskin.
Turning back to Marcus, Alastair said, “We are pleased that you have returned, even if your entrance was a bit dramatic.”
Concern reflected in Marcus’s eyes as his gaze shifted from the English to the villagers. “I truly thought you were in trouble. After last time...”
“Much has changed. And much has stayed the same,” Alastair said ambiguously, most likely not wanting to provide the lieutenant with personal information about the MacLeods.
Callum watched the Englishman closely. He was different, not as aggressive as other English soldiers who had come to Dunvegan over the years, but that did not mean the man should be trusted.
“If you will excuse us,” Alastair said to Lieutenant Gilbert, “we have family business to attend to.”
“And the villagers?” the lieutenant asked, returning to the original reason for his and his men’s presence in the gardens.
The threat the villagers posed to Gille was still very real. If he and Gille were going to begin their search for Lottie’s pelt, they did not need the villagers dogging their every move.
As though reading Callum’s thoughts, Alastair moved past the Englishmen to stand before the villagers. “I should place you in shackles and throw you in my dungeon for what you have done to the forestlands. Both the villagers and the MacLeods depend on those woodlands for many valuable resources. And you cannot think I would allow you to essentially kidnap my kin and use her for your own nefarious purposes without repercussions?”
Several of the villagers paled. “We weren’t the ones who set the fire,” a darker-haired man said. “’Twas Harold.” He turned to the grey-haired man beside him. “We’ll nae be going tae the dungeon fer somethin’ he did all on his own.”
“Ye mangy dog,” Harold growled. “We did this together.”
Alastair held up his hand, stopping any further arguments. “I can be a forgiving man, if the lot of you are willing to come back to Dunvegan with me and, over a meal, negotiate what reparations you can make for burning down the forest, as well as discussing what you had hoped Gille could do for you and your families. Perhaps we can come to an arrangement.”
The grey-haired man who had set fire to the forest narrowed his gaze. “Ye seek tae distract us from our purpose.”
Alastair shook his head. “I seek to keep you out of prison and to negotiate for the freedom of one of my clan members.”
Beside Callum, Gille drew in a sharp breath. “The laird would do such a thing for me?”
Callum smiled down at her. “We consider you family.” At the thought, he paused. When had he started thinking of the fairy in such terms? Only yesterday, he had despised everything about fairies and Fairyland. Was it the changes in her appearance that had softened his heart? God’s teeth! He hoped he was not as shallow as that.
Callum swallowed roughly as he studied the woman before him. Determined to be objective, Callum reconsidered their every encounter. She had not looked the part of the beast when he had first met her, but he had easily dismissed her because of her fairy nature. And in the woodlands, he had wanted something from her badly enough to look past her unusual appearance.
The moment their lives were in jeopardy in the woodlands came into his mind. It was then that he’d seen through the beast to the frightened young woman beneath. She’d glanced up at him and Callum found himself staring into a pair of green eyes the colour of wet leaves. Tears sparkled on her wet lashes, and tufts of red hair framed her face. She was the picture of innocence and humanity. Nothing about her had seemed fairy-like or unnatural. Only a woman in distress as she was now caught between the villagers’ desires and a curse that would end her life as she knew it.
Callum sighed, realising that was the moment his heart had changed, not because of her looks. And although she was somewhat transformed from the beast she used to be, this current Gille seemed as perfectly suited to roaming the untamed land of the Scottish Highlands as she did walking through the gardens in the beautifully tailored dress she wore.
Deciding not to wait for Alastair to negotiate with the villagers, Callum offered Gille his hand. “Come, let me take you back to the castle where we can plan our next step.”
After a brief look at the others gathered around, Gille accepted his outstretched fingers and allowed him to weave her between the Englishmen, past the frowning villagers then out of the garden, heading for the gates of Dunvegan.
Once they were safely back inside the castle, Callum noted that Gille’s pull on his hand became heavier, and her steps became slow and unsteady. “Gille?” he asked, not bothering to hide the concern in his voice.
“I do not... feel well.” She slipped her hand from his and reached for the wall, leaning heavily upon it.
Callum searched her face and noted her lack of colour and the purple blotches beneath her eyes. The white streak in her hair had remained unchanged during her connection with his mother’s spirit, but Gille was still drained from the contact. “You need to rest. Come, let me help you abovestairs.”
She started to shake her head, then stopped, clutching the wall for support. “We need to get started even though my head feels like it is caught in a vice.”
He crossed to her side. He did not know how or if he should touch her, but at the distressed look in her eyes, he decided he at least had to try to help, so he wrapped his arm about her waist and pulled her close. When she did not object, he said, “Let me help you up the stairs to your bedchamber. You can rest there for a short while and then we will plan what comes next. Lottie will bring something to ease your headache.”
“A short rest,” she said, leaning against his side.
She and Callum made it up two stairs before her legs went out from beneath her. With no other choice, Callum lifted her into his arms and hastened up the stairway and down the long hallway until he settled her on her bed. “I should go back and get Lottie. She will know what to do.”
“Nay,” she protested. “I will regain my strength in a moment. Stay with me, please.”
He settled beside her on the bed and drew her against his chest. She was warm and soft, and smelled of the morning dew. Callum drew a deep breath, savouring the fresh scent while also trying to slow the rapid beat of his heart. To distract them both, he asked, “What does it feel like when you touch my mother’s essence?”
“How do I describe it?” Gille drew a breath and closed her eyes. “It feels as if I have plunged myself into an icy lake, but instead of bone-chilling cold, a surge of energy, raw and potent, courses through me, and my emotions are no longer my own. Sorrow, longing, bitter despair all leave me breathless, and in their wake, a chilling numbness siphons the very life force from my body.” She drew a wrenching breath and opened her eyes. “It is profoundly unsettling.”
“I had no idea.” He felt a rush of tenderness so powerful it hurt. “I did not mean to cause you such pain.”
She brought her gaze to his. “It was my choice, and not an entirely selfless act. I needed to experience her memories to save both Lady Janet and me.”
When her voice broke, Callum found himself stroking her back. “Still, I wish we could accomplish the task without causing you further pain.”
Her mouth twisted. “I suffered much worse in Fairyland.”
He drew her close so that her face was tucked between his head and shoulder, fighting back his own anger. He had never considered how she had suffered amongst her own people. And to make matters even worse, Oberon had cursed her to remain isolated from what family she had in the human realm, then cast a spell on her. Truly, it was more than any one person deserved.
Callum drew a breath, not wanting to frighten her with the anger that coursed through him at the other fairies and the fairy king. “I would have protected you from Oberon had I known he would curse you.”
“I am certain you would have.” She said nothing more, simply closed her eyes once more and drifted off to sleep, her breathing soft and warm against his throat.
Callum was awed that she had trusted him enough to reveal her pain and anguish to him. He smiled down at the top of her head as he wondered which of the two of them had truly been the beast when he had found her in the woods. She might have looked the part, but he had allowed his heart to grow hard over the years. Only when he played his mandolin did he feel like his emotions softened.
And even without playing his mandolin right now, he could feel himself softening towards the woman in his arms. Gille had changed not only his attitude about fairies, but she also made him long for things he had never thought he wanted. He wanted to befriend her. He wanted to see her happy. He wanted to protect her from anyone who thought they could extort her magic. He wanted to save her from Oberon’s fate for her in six days. And, as desire blossomed in his loins, he realised he also wanted her in every way a man could want a woman.
The question was, did she want the same thing? Or did she see him only as a means to breaking her curse?