Chapter 10
Declan’s hand cupped the back of her neck as he lowered his head and brushed his lips across hers before settling on them in a tender kiss that spoke of a promise of things to come.
Aura had never been kissed and the startling and pleasant sensation it sent through her shocked her, and she froze.
He felt her body grow taut and silently cursed himself for taking such liberties with her. He dropped his hand off her neck and took a step back away from her.
“Forgive me,” he said. “It was wrong of me to do that when you have been so gracious to help me. It has been so long since I have been able to kiss a woman, though that is a poor excuse. Again, my apologies.”
The pleasant sensation vanished, leaving in its wake a hurt that stung her heart. He didn’t kiss her because he wanted to kiss her. He kissed her because she was the only woman left for him to kiss.
She lifted her chin slightly and forced a bit of a smile. “I understand. We should get going to the ring of stones.”
Declan was about to object but held his tongue. She was right. It was wise for her to go with him. She might see something that he would miss.
“Aye,” he said and grabbed her cloak off the hook and draped it over her shoulders and could not help but think how much he enjoyed the tender kiss.
How she tasted of honey and mint and how an enticing, sweet scent drifted off her hair to tickle his nose.
And how he would not mind, at all, kissing her again.
The foreboding gray clouds seemed to follow them the whole way to the ring of stones and though Aura would normally pay mind to such an ominous sign, she didn’t overly worry about it since she had given small rowan sticks to the men for protection against evil, which they eagerly accepted, and she carried one herself.
It didn’t take long to reach the place. Though it did take a bit of maneuvering to get past the bushy pines that seemed to guard the area. Two of the four men who rode with Declan remained with the horses while the other two followed Aura and Declan, both clinging tightly to the rowan sticks.
Once past the trees, a small clearing appeared.
It was cloaked in silence, as if the very air held its breath.
The ring of stones rose from the earth like ancient sentinels—six in all, weathered and cracked, their jagged edges bearing the mark of time and something…
older. Moss clung to their bases like forgotten prayers, and strange symbols, faint but unmistakable, had been etched into the stone.
Some were worn smooth by centuries of wind and rain, while others looked newly carved, as if someone—or something—had been here not long ago.
The men hesitated, their gazes shifting warily around the area. Even the birds had grown quiet and not a single animal occupied the space.
Aura stepped forward, the rowan stick tucked in her belt at her waist, the cool dampness of the soil seeping through her boots. She could feel it, something unnatural had touched this place. It clung to the stones like a lingering whisper, low and taunting.
“It doesn’t feel right here,” Declan said. “We will not linger.”
“A moment,” Aura urged and got closer to the stones.
Declan grabbed her arms. “You shouldn’t get too close.”
“I need to get a closer look. I’ll be careful.”
He didn’t take any chances, he kept close at her side.
Aura approached carefully, peeking around the stones near the center and that’s when she spotted something concealed beneath a thin layer of fallen leaves. She quickly found a long stick and gently moved the leaves aside.
“Blackthorn,” Aura said, staring at the small bundle, each branch carved with symbols.
“Blackthorn is for protection,” Declan said.
“Aye, unless used for dark magic,” Aura explained.
“And those symbols?”
“I am not familiar with them.”
A wind suddenly rushed around the place, stirring up leaves and debris.
“We leave now,” Declan said, “and take nothing with us. This place bodes far too much of evil.”
He took hold of her arm and hurried her to the pines.
“Wait,” she urged and bent down to pull something half buried out of the ground and take it in her hand, brushing the dirt off it.
“Drop it,” Declan ordered. “Nothing from here leaves with us.”
Aura opened her hand to show him a stone with a hole going through it. “This doesn’t belong here. Someone purposely left it here.”
“How do you know that?”
“It is a hag stone and found only by seashores and riverbeds. It supposedly possesses magical properties that offer great protection. The only way it could have gotten here is if someone left it.”
“Or dropped it when brought here against their will,” Declan said.
“Regardless, it comes with us,” Aura insisted.
He didn’t argue. He wanted her gone from this place, fearful it held the type of power he couldn’t protect her against.
He rushed her to the pine trees, the two men already headed through them when the wind picked up just as he eased Aura through the slim entrance. It whipped around him, leaves and twigs striking him, forcing him to raise his arm to protect his face and halting his steps.
When it finally settled and he lowered his arm, it was to find himself facing the ring of stones and the witch standing beside it.
Her long white hair was windblown with leaves and sticks protruding from it and there was a sneer of anger on her face that had him taking a step back.
“You are a fool,” she shouted at him. “Never come here again and never bring her here again. Now go before it is too late.”
He went to speak.
“BE GONE NOW!”
Her shout sent him flying through the narrow entrance to land on his bottom in front of the men and Aura.
She hurried to him, though he was on his feet before she reached him.
“The witch,” he said without thinking and the men, already on their horses, rode off.
Declan grabbed her around the waist and hoisted her onto her horse then mounted his. No words were needed. They were to leave posthaste and that was that.
By the next morning, word spread quickly about how the witch had sent Declan flying through the pine trees to land on his bottom.
That he was defenseless against her frightened the clan.
If he was helpless against her, then who could protect them?
And worse… they wondered if Aura’s presence had something to do with the curse.
“This isn’t good,” Hamish said, shaking his head as he paced in front of the dais. “A witch in the area does not bode well.”
“That’s not true,” Aura said. “A witch’s creed is to do no harm. Their magic comes from nature, the earth, water, air, and fire. It is a warlock that is feared since they practice dark magic.”
Hamish stopped pacing and squinted at her. “How do you know this?”
She hesitated only for a moment. “I have met a few women who were believed to be witches, and they were nothing more than women steeped in nature and all the secrets it holds.”
“That would make you a witch since you study plants,” Hamish accused.
“Watch your tongue, Hamish,” Declan warned, “such an accusation may start a fury that cannot easily be stopped.”
A sudden wind opened the door, blowing a cleric in with it, his cloak whipping around his short frame.
“What is this I hear about a witch and a curse?” he demanded as he brushed leaves off his worn cloak while approaching them.
“It is nothing, Cleric,” Declan said, cursing himself for having breathed a word of the witch for others to hear.
The cleric stopped abruptly. “A witch is not… nothing. A witch needs to be dealt with seriously before she spreads her evil.”
“There is no evil spreading here, Cleric,” Declan said. “It is a joyous occasion that brings you here… a wedding.”
“But since I am here, I can deal with the witch,” the cleric insisted, pushing his long, stringy hair behind his ears.
Declan stood, a stern look on his face. “Nay, you won’t. You will wed us and take your leave.”
The cleric’s eyes narrowed. “The witch—”
“Is for me to deal with, not you. Do I make myself clear, Cleric?” Declan said threateningly.
“Aye, my son, very clear,” the cleric said with a nod.
Declan sensed the man would be a problem and the sooner he sent him on his way the better.
“You will perform the vows now so you may take your leave after enjoying a hardy meal,” Declan said with a strength that left no room for an argument.
“A night’s rest I beg of you before I must journey back to the monastery,” the cleric pleaded.
Declan didn’t trust him, but it would not be wise of him to deny his request. “One night, Cleric, no more.”
The cleric bobbed his head. “I am grateful, my son.”
“Now wed us,” Declan said without preamble.
The next thing Aura knew, she was standing beside Declan, the cleric in front of them, Hamish to his side, and Freyda to her side, and the servants gathered around, smiles on their faces as the cleric commenced with the ceremony that ended with him claiming them husband and wife.
Hamish led a cheer, and Declan ordered drinks for all, and talk turned to the festive celebration being planned to honor the chieftain’s wedding.
Aura mostly smiled, saying only a word or two, too lost in her thoughts to say much.
She still could not quite grasp that she was Declan’s wife.
They had no time since returning home from the ring of stones the day before to speak about the incident with the witch. And here she was suddenly his wife.
Clansmen began drifting in upon hearing the news and more drinks were served along with food. There was a merriment in the air that Aura didn’t feel since none of this was real. And then there was the one thing she had been trying to ignore since it happened… the kiss.
It had startled her, but she had enjoyed it.
She liked the feel of his lips on hers, the way he held her neck firm in his hand, the light brush of his lips before he truly kissed her.
She had dreamed of kisses, giggled about them with her sisters, but as time went on it became apparent that she would never know a kiss.
Now she did, though its joy had faded when he apologized and made an excuse as to why he kissed her. And now, knowing how a kiss felt, she would miss never being kissed again.
“Something troubles you?”
Aura turned to find her husband’s face close to hers.
“You look far away, wife, as if you do not want to be here,” he said, having watched her try to enjoy the merriment.
“There is much to be done, and we have barely talked since the incident yesterday—”
“Chieftain Declan,” the cleric called out boldly from across the room a slur to his words from the many tankards of ale he had enjoyed. “I just heard of your curse. Surely it is the work of the witch. She must be found and burnt to free you.”
Hamish, into his cups as well, called out, “Aura, his wife,” —he raised his tankard— “is wise in the ways of plants and will rid the chieftain of the curse.”
The cleric’s eyes narrowed. “Wise when it comes to plants? Do you practice witchcraft, Aura?”
The room went dead still, and Declan shot to his feet, fury in his eyes.
“Watch what you accuse my wife of, Cleric,” he warned, fighting to contain his anger. “She is a good and kind woman.”
“Women can hide their evil until it’s too late,” the cleric unwisely continued.
Declan smashed his fist down on the table. “My wife is not evil, speak ill of her again and I will have your tongue cut out of your mouth.”
Silence fell over the room so heavily that not even a breath was heard.
Declan turned to Aura and held out his hand and together they walked out of the keep.