Chapter 10 #2
“Mr. Heremon, I wonder if you know, ah, ken any legends about a Fae treasure called the cluet,” she asked, trying to sound as Scottish as possible.
The herbalist frowned. “Aye, a few. Only we dinnae sell stories at market, lassie.”
Thunder rumbled overhead as the laird slapped a bunch of coins into the old man’s hand. “Tell the wench what she wishes hear.”
“As you wish, my lord.” Heremon regarded Lucy.
“The cluet, ’tis older than the mountains, and more powerful than the Gods.
Some say ’twas the cloak of an ancient immortal, and over time became so soaked in his magic that the cloak came alive, like you or me.
To keep the thing from destroying the mortal realm, the ancient cast a spell that made it desire only to fulfill wishes.
When commanded, it could change its shape and move from one place to the next to find those worthy of being granted a boon. ”
“You make it sound as if it’s a living thing, like a person.” When he nodded she exchanged a look with Tair, who appeared bored but was also listening to every word the herbalist said. “I was told that it belonged to the dark Fae queen.”
Heremon chuckled. “Such a treasure belongs to no one, lassie. The queen stole the cloak. I cannae tell you when, or why, only that she did,” he added before Lucy could ask. “’Tis all I ken of the cluet.”
Lucy recalled how the cluet had shifted into different objects—a shawl and a blanket—and had appeared in both her world and Tair’s. “Could this treasure move through time?”
The herbalist’s smile faltered. “The power of the cluet, ’tis without limits. I reckon it could, if it desired to find someone to give it purpose.”
“Wait here,” Tair said suddenly, and stalked off toward the center of the green.
“Thank you for sharing your stories,” Lucy told Heremon, and then walked out to get a better look at where the laird was heading. She couldn’t see him now, which made her frown.
“You’re a pretty one,” a pimply-faced teenager said as he sidled up to her. “How much?”
“How much for what?” Lucy asked absently as she scanned the area for Tair.
“A romp.” When she frowned at him his expression grew sulky. “If you spread your knees for those MacRune bastarts, you may do as well for me.”
She sighed. “No, I don’t think so. Sod off.”
The teenager’s shoulders drooped, and he trudged back toward a small cluster of other young teen boys, all of whom crowed at him. Some things never changed, Lucy thought, amused.
“Look out.”
Several things happened all at once. An animal made a loud, gut-wrenching scream, followed by more of the same from men and women who were running in all directions.
A huge dark brown horse burst through several stands, destroying them as it ran from something directly toward Lucy.
She tried to get out of the animal’s way, but tripped over her too-long skirt and fell.
The horse skidded to a stop and reared up over her, its thrashing hooves just above her head.
Justin wins anyway, Lucy thought, too terrified to move .
A man dressed in white snatched her and jerked her out of reach, pressing her against his hard chest as two other men in similar garments rushed at the horse and caught its reins.
That was when Lucy noticed the bleeding wound in its flank.
The men managed to calm the horse and lead it away after a few minutes, and then it was all over.
Lucy looked up at the red-haired man holding her. “Thank—my thanks, my lord.”
“’Twas naught.” The man smiled a little. “Do you visit your people here, lass? I shall return you to them.”
“Let her go, Fifer MacAlen.” Tair didn’t wait but pulled Lucy away from the man as the wind suddenly picked up. To Heremon, he said, “Who owns that runaway nag, hermit?”
The old man grimaced. “’Tis but a cart horse belonging to Bram Tanner.”
Tair dragged Lucy along with him as he stalked toward the center of the green, where a group of villagers had gathered. All of them skittered back, falling silent as they stared at one man trying to right an overturned cart.
Lucy brushed back her hair that a sudden blast of wind had blown into her eyes. Beyond the village she saw trees whipping back and forth, and a long, spinning dark shadow in the air .
A tornado?
“Stupit worthless creature,” the man was muttering as he gave up and turned to see Tair coming at him. “My lord, forgive me, I didnae see–”
The laird seized him by the throat. “Did you wish kill me and mine today, Tanner? For that stupit worthless nag of yours near did the work for you.”
The whirlwind began to approach the village, although no one but Lucy had noticed it yet. The same thing had happened by the loch when the dark Fae queen had made her demands of Tair. The weather was something he didn’t like talking about, either.
Why does the weather change so fast here?
Do you reckon I’ll spill all of our secrets to you?
What Tair was doing to the poor man wrenched Lucy out of her thoughts. Bram choked and wheezed as he tried to reply, but it was obvious that he didn’t have enough air. She stepped between them, and put her hand on Tair’s arm.
“Don’t do this. It was just an accident. I’m okay.” When he released the man, who fell to his knees, she smiled. “Thank you.” She glanced around at the frightened villagers, who were now gawking at her. “I mean, thank you, my lord.”
“My lord MacRune.” Fifer appeared beside them. “If I may speak with you?”
F rom the other side of the green Osgan kept an eye on the two lairds, who had finally faced off as he’d wanted.
With a little luck they’d offend each other, perhaps enough to swear themselves enemies.
The MacAlen had never been defeated in battle, but then neither had the MacRune.
The two clans certainly had enough weapons, experience and power to destroy each other, but wouldn’t it be amusing if they both did exactly that?
I shall form my own clan once I find the cluet. Osgan would need to, as his ascendence to immortality had rendered him incapable of fathering children. He’d surround himself with only the young and beautiful, so he could bed anyone he wished to. Aye, and I shall begin with that strange one.
His gaze shifted to the tall, slender blonde maid who had nearly been trampled.
Osgan had been studying her since she had arrived at the market with the MacRune.
From the way she spoke and behaved she was obviously from another land, but she was not an immortal.
Her ill-fitting gown and slippers did not belong to her, he guessed.
No head-turner like her would stoop to wear such mean garments.
Tair MacRune also seemed especially taken with the lass .
A pity the horse had nearly trampled her instead of the laird. Osgan wouldn’t have stabbed the beast if he’d known that the MacRune would get out of the way so quickly.
He pulled his hood over his head and made his way through the gawking villagers, taking a seldom-used path behind the cottages that led through the forest to a secluded stream.
He stopped by the water to wash and change his garments, and added a cuff with a white-blue milky gem that glowed for a moment as it touched his flesh.
The Fae lover who had gifted him the cuff had warned that it could amplify his tàladh so much that even animals would be drawn to him.
In a crowd of mortals the magic could set off a rampage, so he only wore it when he knew he would be alone with someone.
Someone no other could seduce, as it happened.
His first lover had come to him for a reason that had ceased mattering the moment he’d touched her.
She might have been a mystery to all her other swains, but Osgan had recognized her desires the first time she’d become overwrought.
From there he’d simply had to follow her lead, which had led her to becoming his, to do with as he pleased.
Of late she’d had little time to devote to their liaison, but he also knew the reason for that.
When he obtained the cluet he planned to make her immortal, and then give her exactly what she wanted for the rest of eternity.
Osgan left the trail and made his way up a slope to a low ridge where a small, rough shelter stood.
Used by drovers, woodcutters and shepherds, the ramshackle structure had no hearth or furnishings, and time had sent hundreds of ivy vines to cover its wattle-and-daub walls.
Birds that nested in the rotting thatch roof did not take to wing as he approached, but crowded each other on the eaves as they cooed at him.
Sensing his lover already waited inside, Osgan did not enter but sat on a nearby stump and gazed down at the forest trail, where two armed men hurried by, their heads turning as if they were searching for someone.
“Your lord shallnae spare you when he learns you slipped away, Malvina,” he said as the creamy scent of twinflowers enveloped him.
“I dinnae care.” She embraced him from behind, nuzzling the side of his neck with her hot face.
Her sweat added an unpleasant salty note to the perfume made from the pale pink blooms that she wore.
“That great gommy hardly notices me of late. Why dinnae you take me away with you? I’ve no kin in the islands.
We could be happy there. I’ve enough of my own money to buy a cottage and some sheep.
You may herd and I shall keep house for us. ”
“How could becoming a filthy shepherd make me happy?” Knowing that was his cue, Osgan rose and turned, using no gentleness as he shoved her away from him. “You endlessly crow about your desires but you never think on what I want.”
Tears welled up in her eyes as she stumbled back, turning and fleeing into the shelter, where she tried to close the door. He pushed it open, knocking her to the dirt floor inside.
“Dinnae ravish me,” she begged, holding out her hands to fend him off. “I’m but a weak, wee lass who cannae match your vile raging lusts.”
Osgan swallowed a yawn as he closed and bolted the door, locking her inside with him, and then dropped down on top of her.
Because of her peculiar need for pain and humiliation they had played some variation of this farce each time they met.
He clamped a hand over her mouth and ripped open her bodice, fondling her roughly before he dragged up her skirts.
Under them she lay naked and soaked with her arousal.
She would come again after he rammed his cock into her quim, unless he could make the encounter even more tormenting for her.
Then bliss might send her into a swoon, as it had the first time he’d had her .
“I’m weary of you,” he said, quite honestly, and then flipped her over and bared her buttocks. He pressed the curves apart and rubbed her puckered rosebud, forcing a finger inside to test her tightness. She seemed loose, as if she had been well-used there. “Only you’ve no’ given me your arse.”
“No, please.” What sounded like real panic filled her voice. “I’ll do anything you wish. You’ve only to say.”
“I told you, I need a boat I can use to reach the MacRune’s island.” Osgan took some baling cord he saw on the floor and used it to tie her hands behind her back. “Have it brought and tied to the south dock tonight.”
“I’ve done thus. The skiff awaits you even now.” She tried to roll over, but he clamped her with his thighs. “Please, dinnae take me so cruelly.”
“Why cannae you speak truth?” he asked idly, knotting the cord so that it cut into her delicate skin. “You insist I take you cruelly. ’Twill be no different than when I made you suck my cock until I choked you with my seed.”
“’Twas how he used me each night when I was a wee lass,” Malvina sobbed out the words. “So he couldnae get me with a bairn.”
He stood and nudged her over so he could look into her wet eyes.
The shame there was real, as was the hatred, but it was not for him.
She invented these tableaus so she could relive the only real pleasure she’d ever known.
“’Tis why you so love pain, then. ’Twas whose nightly gift? A brother, mayhap?”
The hatred made dark splotches pop out on her face.
“My sire.” The sound of two men’s voices outside the shelter made Malvina go still. In a more commanding voice, she said, “They’ve found me. Release me at once and I shall shield you from my lord’s wrath.”
He chuckled. “Oh, I think not.”
Osgan stepped outside to find the two armed guards approaching. Neither one drew their weapons, and by the time they stopped in front of him they both sported erections.
“The hoor in there needs servicing,” he told them, gesturing toward the door. “Be sure and fack her arse as well as her quim.”
He waited outside until he heard his lover’s cries of fear and then sobs of delight, and left the three of them to their pleasures.
Doubtless Malvina would convince the guards to keep her secret, and they would join the other dozen men she presently facked to keep silent and happy.
If only it was so simple for him to have what he desired.
He walked down the slope and headed back toward the village, removing the cuff on his wrist as he walked. By now the two lairds would be gone, and he could retrieve what he needed for his visit to Gealladh tonight.
All was prepared, and once he was within reach of the cluet, the treasure would have no choice but to return to its latest master.