Chapter 2
Declan froze, his jaw tightening. He had not even taken five breaths in the damn keep.
A matronly woman in a flour-dusted apron bustled in from a side corridor, gray hair pinned in a lopsided bun, and gasped at the sight of the girl on the ground and hurried to her. “Mira! What on—” She turned and promptly dropped with a huff and a thud.
Declan sighed, deep and weary.
Another set of footsteps sounded heavier this time. A thick woman, her hair a massive set of gray curls, entered from the corner with an armful of linens.
“What in the name of—” She spotted him, and her eyes went wide.
“No—don’t—” he began.
Too late.
Down she went, linens flying, a soft “oof!” escaping her lips as she hit the floor beside the other two.
A groan came from somewhere deeper in the hall. “Saints help us. He’s already laying them low.”
Declan turned toward the voice as a thin, slightly hunched man stepped forward, leaning heavily on a knotted walking stick. His white beard jutted like an accusation, and his bushy brows met in a deep scowl.
“Well,” the old man said, squinting at him, “you must be the one they sent. Far too handsome and cursed to boot.”
His family believed him cursed and he let them. No one needed to know that he brought the ridiculous wish onto himself. He felt foolish enough about it. He didn’t need others believing him a fool.
“It’s a curse easy enough to avoid,” Declan snapped, moving a safe distance away from the fallen women..
The old man snorted. “Not likely. You’ll have most of the single women sniffing close enough at your heels to drop like stones.” He cast a withering glance at the three women still sprawled on the floor, one attempting to rise with as much dignity as a sack of potatoes.
“I mean no harm. It just happens.” It was a poor excuse to his own ears.
“Happens?” the old man barked. “Does it, now? You stroll into a hall and drop Ruth, the cook, Glenna, overseer of the keep, and Mira, one of the servants, in a few blinks of an eye.” He shook his head. “Get up, all of you,” the old man grumbled. “He’s cursed, not contagious.”
The women hurried to help each other to their feet.
Declan stiffened, glared at the man, and demanded, “Who are you?”
“Name’s Hamish,” the man said, tapping his walking stick twice on the floor. “I was the old chieftain’s right hand. And I’ve no interest in seeing some stray pup from another clan try and take his place. Especially one who can’t seem to keep women upright.”
Declan took a slow breath, reining in his temper. “Then we’ll have to tolerate each other. I didn’t ask to come here, but I have been installed as the new chieftain, and I will see my duty done.”
Hamish’s eyes narrowed. “We’ll see, lad. We’ll see.”
He turned and hobbled off, muttering curses beneath his breath.
Declan turned to see the three women hightailing it out of the room.
“Stop!” he called out and the three women froze. “Bring me food and drink and leave it on the table nearest the hearth and tell me where my bedchamber is located.”
Glenna, the overseer of the keep, shooed the other two women away after whispering a few words to them. Then she cautiously approached him.
“Keep two arm’s length from me and you’ll be safe,” he informed her.
Glenna nodded and stopped a safe distance from him. “Second floor up is your bedchamber, first floor is your solar, third floor is for your wife and bairns.”
“I have neither of those,” he said, and might never have them with this cursed wish hanging over him. “Do you have a healer?”
“Aye, sir. Freyda. She’s old—”
“Then she’s wise,” he said, hopefully. He had spoken to many healers, and they all told him the same thing.
“Only a witch can remove a curse.”
He had asked one healer, “What about a wish?”
She looked at him oddly. “Witches don’t grant wishes.”
But he and his two friends only spoke of wishes. They never, not once, mentioned a curse. So, how had his wish turned into a curse and had the same happened to Raff and Rhodes?
“Get to the dais,” Hamish yelled, waving his walking stick in the air as he hobbled into the Great Hall once again. “Where a true chieftain belongs when a rival clan leader arrives without warning, prepared to make demands.”
Glenna turned to leave and stopped Mira to issue new orders. The servant quickly placed the platter she carried with food on the dais then instructed the servant lad to do the same with the jug and tankard.
Declan waited until Mira left, then he went to the dais and sat in the high-back chair in the center, two chairs flanking each side of it.
His backside barely hit the chair when the door burst open and in strode a man who had more girth to him than height.
Two warriors entered with him as well as a pretty, young woman.
“You’ll be stopping right there, Chieftain Crane of Clan MacKinty,” Hamish ordered, raising his walking stick to poke the man in the chest before he got too close to the dais.
“You are not going to be foolish enough to keep old Hamish as your right hand man, are you?” Chieftain Crane asked annoyed.
“I’d say that foolish, old Hamish did a good job of keeping you at a distance from me,” Delcan said. “And let me make it clear now, Chieftain Crane, no man finds favor with me when he has harsh words for anyone in Clan MacCrone.”
A lift of his chin and a puff of his chest told Declan that Hamish was pleased how he hadn’t hesitated to defend the clan.
“My apologies, Chieftain Declan,” Chieftain Crane said begrudgingly.
Declan quickly took charge of the conversation. “What brings you here uninvited?”
“A proposal,” Crane said, not bothering to hide his smirk.
“Clan MacCrone is in need—dire need—I propose an alliance between our clans. Wed my beautiful daughter, Irina, and you will have the strength of my clan at your back. Clan MacKinty borders Clan MacCrone. Joined together we could be a formidable force.” He turned and took hold of his daughter’s arm to pull her forward and shove her toward the dais.
“Wait,” Declan urged, his hand out as if he could stop her, but he was too late.
Irina got too close and collapsed right in front of the dais.
Declan got to his feet and peered over the table. The pretty, fair-haired lass smiled up at him.
Crane laughed. “She’ll be spending most of her time on her back anyway to get with child, so your curse is no problem for her.”
“Help your daughter up, Chieftain Crane. NOW!” Declan ordered with a fierce growl that had Crane scurrying to obey him.
“Irina has agreed freely to this proposal,” Crane said, helping his daughter to her feet and stepping back away from the table.
Irina was quick to agree, nodding her head as she spoke. “You are so very handsome and so very appealing, and I am beautiful and appealing. We would make the perfect match.”
A few women had claimed the same after falling at his feet, and one had already had a husband. His wish had become a nightmare.
“I have only arrived here a short time ago. I have no plans of entertaining the thought of marriage at this time,” Declan said, settling the matter, or so he thought.
“Take your time and think about it. I am sure once you take stock of the situation here, you will see the wisdom of my offer,” Crane said. “And you should know that my daughter is the most beautiful, marriage-age lass in the Highlands. You could do no better.”
“The chieftain will keep that in mind,” Hamish said, raising his walking stick, ready to give Crane another poke. “Now be on your way… like the chieftain said, he just arrived here. He needs time to himself.”
Declan filled his tankard high with ale, then took a hefty swallow.
“There will be more.”
Declan looked at Hamish, knowing he was right.
“A steady stream of them will come.” Hamish scratched at his beard. “It might be wise to just pick one woman and be done with it.”
“Are you deaf, Hamish? Did you not hear me tell Crane that I have no thought of marriage?”
Hamish shook his walking stick at him. “You told me you’d see your duty done. Do you forget that part of that duty is producing an heir? Clan MacCrone has been through some troubling times. The prospect of a bairn to carry on the clan’s name might give the people hope for a brighter future.”
“Repaired cottages, stocked storehouses, wool garments to replace the old ones would be just a few immediate things that the clan might be more grateful for,” Declan argued. “Especially before winter is upon us.”
“And how will you see to all that when the coffers are empty?” Hamish demanded.
“Hard work and trade,” Declan declared. “But first I want to speak with your healer.”
“Are you ill?” Hamish asked, then shook his head. “You want to know if the healer can help you with the curse.”
“Get me the healer, Hamish,” Declan snapped.
“How did you get that curse anyway?” Hamish asked, making no effort to do as Declan ordered.
“That is none of your concern and if you cannot obey my order without question, I will find another to stand by my side to guide me,” Declan cautioned.
Hamish shrugged. “You won’t find many who will rush forward to take on such a chore. Don’t know if I even want the burdensome task myself.”
Declan squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. “Bring me the healer, Hamish.”
Hamish turned and walked away, mumbling to himself.
Declan downed more ale but didn’t find the sparse food offered appealing.
The first thing that needed his attention was stocking the storage sheds with meat for the winter.
Though he worried there might not be enough skilled hunters to accomplish that task since if there were, the storage shed would be full.
With his stomach rumbling, he sampled the cabbage soup in front of him and cringed.
It was tasteless and not as hot as it should be.
He tore off a piece of bread from the flat loaf and could tell before taking a bite that it was stale.
He finally chose a quail egg that wasn’t too bad.
Something definitely needed to be done about the food.
Hamish returned with a woman who appeared as old as him. Her white hair piled on top of her head but not staying there, thin strands falling where they will. Her dark eyes showed fatigue, and her slim hands were slightly gnarled.
Hamish stopped her from getting too close to Declan and he remained at her side.
“I am pleased to meet you, Chieftain Declan. I am Freyda, the clan healer and I will serve you the best I can.”
“Thank you, Freyda,” Declan said and shot a glance to Hamish. “You may leave us.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Hamish said, tossing his chin up definitely.
Before Declan could order otherwise, Freyda spoke up. “Please, sir, forgive Hamish for being rude—”
“I am not rude,” Hamish snapped.
“Hush,” Freyda ordered, and Hamish mumbled beneath his breath but otherwise kept silent. “As I was saying, sir, Hamish can be rude, but he means well, and he is protective of me as any good husband is of his wife.”
“My condolences to you, Freyda,” Declan said with a chuckle.
Freyda smiled and Hamish frowned.
“How may I be of help to you, sir?” Freyda asked.
“Would you have any knowledge of how to remove a… curse?” Declan asked, unable to admit it was a wish that had brought him such misery.
Freyda sighed softly. “The only thing I know, as do most healers, is that a witch is the only person who can remove a curse and preferably the one who cast it.”
Declan worried that would be her response since it had been the response of every healer he had asked. He noticed her brow narrow as if considering a thought.
“Is there something you thought of that could help?” he asked anxiously.
“I don’t know for sure, but it might be worth a try,” Freyda said.
“Tell me,” Declan asked, eager to try anything.
Seeking her husband’s opinion, Freyda turned to Hamish. “Aura.”
Hamish’s eyes widened a bit, and he nodded. “She is more knowledgeable than most.”
Declan sprang to his feet. “Who is the knowledgeable woman called Aura and where can I find her?”
“Aura lives alone in the woods and knows the properties of plants like no other. She has helped me heal the ill I thought would surely die.”
“She’s a healer?” Declan asked with hope.
Freyda shook her head. “Nay, she does not claim to be a healer. She says knowledge of plants and nature are important to her and so she seeks it. She blends plants I would not think of blending and is successful with them.” She smiled. “And she cooks exceptionally tasty food.”
Hamish grinned. “That she does.”
“Perhaps her knowledge could help you,” Freyda said.
For the first time in a long while, Declan felt hopeful. “Where can I find her?”
“Aura will be here tomorrow to see me. You can talk with her then, if you’d like,” Freyda said.
Declan didn’t want to wait that long, but it was growing late, and it was probably better that he did. A good night’s sleep would clear his mind and give him time to think about whether to be truthful with someone who could possibly help him.
“You will bring Aura to me when she arrives here tomorrow, Hamish,” Declan ordered.
“Aye, sir,” Hamish said. “And you should know that Aura is a good woman and highly respected by the clan.”
“I don’t mean her any harm, Hamish,” Declan clarified and looked to Freyda. “I am grateful for your suggestion, Freyda. Now, I need to speak with your husband privately.”
“Aye, sir, and I hope Aura can be helpful to you,” Freyda said, bobbed her head, then placed a tender touch to her husband’s arm before taking her leave.
“Skillful hunters, weavers, builders, and more,” Declan said. “What skills does the clan possess and what ones does it lack?”
Declan listened as Hamish detailed the clan’s strengths and weaknesses, while in the back of his mind, he could think of nothing else but meeting Aura.