Chapter three
Elgol, Scotland
“What was wrong with that one?” Gillie asked me as the latest warrior I’d interviewed for the position of escorting me to the Dark Woods disappeared into the thick crowd of villagers hustling back and forth on the wharf this afternoon.
“He was wed with two bairns,” I answered, waving forward the next villager who’d been patiently waiting in line for her turn to see me about whatever ailment she had.
An annoyed grunt came from the burly man at the front of the four warriors still waiting to be questioned by me to see if one of them was a good match to accompany me in facing Morgana. “Ye can go,” I snapped at the warrior.
His bushy brows knit into a fierce frown. “Ye’ve nae even spoken to me yet!” he protested.
“Aye,” I replied. “I do nae need to. I require a patient warrior, and ye, sir, clearly do nae have any.”
“Wench!” the man snarled, storming off and nearly colliding with the rail-thin woman walking toward me, her now-wailing bairn in tow.
Gillie elbowed me. “Do ye ken what I think?” she asked.
I glanced at her, squinting against the glare of the sun reflecting off the water behind her.
“What?” I asked, though I suspected what she was going to say from the hopeful look on her face.
“I think ye’ve changed yer mind and can nae bear to part with me, with yer niece and nephew, even with Roger.
” She made a silly face, and we both laughed.
Roger was a good husband to Gillie, but his zeal for rigid routines he wanted everyone to follow was a constant source of annoyance for Gillie and me.
I hugged Gillie as the village woman paused in front of me, bouncing her bairn, who was somehow screeching even louder.
My temples began to throb as I thought of the long day ahead.
I had a line of a dozen villagers who wanted me to cure their illnesses, and a glance at the warriors still waiting to speak to me showed two men left.
The knots in my neck tightened ever so slightly, and I reached up to rub them while rolling my shoulders.
Learning the healing arts had given me purpose, and with life stretching before me unendingly, I desperately needed it.
Still, the work was tiring, especially lately, as I tried to balance it with my grief over Mara and my search for a warrior to accompany me to the Dark Woods.
“Did ye hear me?” Gillie demanded.
I smiled at her. “Ye ken I love ye as a sister, Gillie, and yer bairns as my true niece and nephew, even Roger, but I can nae stay and endure another loss.” She knew what I meant without my saying it.
She nodded, her eyes brimming with sadness.
“Ye will find us again, though, once ye’ve seen the wit—Morgana,” she hastily corrected, knowing as well as I did that any mention of a witch would invite trouble and curiosity I could ill afford.
The zeal with which women were hanged for suspected witchcraft had increased at an alarming rate since the first trials at the king’s court had driven me away from my home and into hiding so many years ago.
My chest tightened with the love I’d tried to fight for Gillie, the children, Mara, aye, even Roger.
Yet even as Gillie’s obvious love for me touched me, it filled me with dread, because I knew I’d one day watch her, Roger, and the children die.
I’d watch everyone I now knew, now cared for, die someday, because everyone would age but me.
I could not keep doing this. The pain would kill me, and sometimes, late at night when sleep eluded me, and I watched the shadows dance on my tent, I wondered if I should have just stayed at my home with my family until I’d been dragged to court and hanged as a witch.
At least then I’d have had more time with them, and I would not have had to endure watching the people I’d been too weak to keep at a distance die.
When Gillie lightly touched my arm, I blinked away the morose thoughts and said, “If all is well,” I assured her, meaning, as she knew, if I was able to break the curse.
I focused on the woman before me, though I could feel Gillie staring at me and knew she wanted to say more. “What ails the bairn?” I asked because it was obvious the child had brought the woman to me.
She thrust the child at me. “I do nae ken!” the woman cried, her words twisted with despair and her light eyes wild with need. “She’s quit sleeping, and I’ve tried everything. I’m desperate. My husband says ’tis a sign she’ll be of little worth in the future, so we should rid ourselves of her.”
My spine stiffened at the woman’s confession about the husband’s callous words and vile intentions. I understood all too well that men valued women only for what they could bring them, and that was all.
“Please!” the woman hissed, gripping my wrist just as I grasped the squirming lass and pulled her into my embrace.
“What’s her name?” I asked as I pressed my hand to her forehead. It wasn’t hot, which was good.
“Eliza,” the bairn’s mama answered immediately.
“Eliza,” I cooed to the sweet girl, who looked to be about one summer old.
Her red face was wet with tears streaking down her chubby cheeks, and her tiny hands were balled into fists.
“Eliza,” I said in a soft, soothing tone as I gently swayed back and forth, “I’m going to try to make ye feel all better. ”
“Ma, Ma, Ma, Ma,” was her answer, punctuated by short pauses in wailing.
“Let’s just have a look at ye,” I said, turning to sit beside her.
“Can ye nae talk to me first?” a deep voice behind me demanded.
I sat and glared at the warrior standing at the front of the line. “Oh, aye, certainly. I’ll just set this poor sick lass aside so ye are nae made to wait a breath longer,” I snapped.
“Ye’re a cheeky wench,” the man snarled. “I’d heard as much about ye.”
His tone made my blood boil. “We clearly will nae suit traveling together, sir, so ye may—”
He was before me, dragging me to my feet before I even knew what was happening. The strong scent of stale wine wafting from the man made me want to gag. I clutched Eliza tightly with my still-free arm, and at the same time, Gillie screamed for help, and Eliza’s mother screamed.
“Unhand me now, ye filthy swine!” I bellowed, flinching back as he squeezed my chin.
He brought his face a hairsbreadth from mine and sneered. “Where’s the coin?” he asked, squeezing my jaw so hard I hissed in pain.
“Release the lass now, ye coward, and I’ll let ye live.”
My gaze flew to the deep, confident tone, and there stood a warrior the gods had ridiculously blessed.
He was tall and powerfully built, with the broadest shoulders I’d ever seen and a chest that strained against the tunic he wore.
I glanced at his face, and my mouth instantly went dry.
It was perfectly crafted, with a strong jawline and angular cheekbones.
His generous lips curled in a mocking smirk that might have made me think he wasn’t as serious as his threatening tone had sounded, but the glacial look in his eyes hinted at the truth, and the way he held the dagger, aimed to strike the man clutching me, indicated he was deadly serious.
The devil clutching me released his grip and lunged toward the warrior, who sidestepped him in a blur, somehow brought the man down and onto his back in the blink of an eye, and set his boot against the man’s throat.
Out came my savior’s sword, pointed at the other man’s chest, before I had taken a full breath.
The show of superb warrior moves drew the eyes of the crowd around us and immediate silence as we all stared. Even the wailing lass fell quiet, eyes wide, mouth parted in curiosity that momentarily pushed her pain aside.
“Who are ye?” Gillie said in a breathless tone I’d not heard her use since the day I’d come across her just kissed by Roger.
The Adonis flashed Gillie a smile, which admittedly made my own treacherous heart skip a beat, but I was far too wise to be fooled by a too-handsome face. I’d learned well from my girlhood affection for Alec that a fine-looking face likely hid an ugly heart.
“I’m James,” the man tossed over his shoulder to us, staring down at his captive. “James Ross. Right-hand man to Laird Munro Ross of the Highlands.”
I barely managed to keep my gasp of surprise to myself. It had been years since I’d heard the name James Ross, but I still remembered it because one does not forget the name of the man your best friend once wrote to you about and vowed would be the perfect match for you.
I swept my gaze over James Ross once more, now seeing the plaid he wore to show he was part of Clan Ross.
This man, the right-hand to the husband of my friend Murieall, was a link to the past I’d had to leave behind.
An ache gripped my stomach as I recalled, for a breath, my three best friends I’d ventured into the Dark Woods with so many years ago to steal Morgana’s goblet.
We’d all been caught and cursed, but only my life had been ruined by that fateful night.
The last I knew, Freya, Elena, and Murieall were all wed, and they likely had children now.
I blinked. No, any bairns would no longer be children.
That realization sent a shaft of regret through me that pinched my side.
James lifted his foot from the man’s throat, and the man immediately gasped for air and scrambled backward. “Ye can leave this village and forget the woman and her coin, or I can kill ye.” James shrugged. “The choice is yers.”
The man coughed for a moment, glanced at me, then looked back at James. “I’ll leave.”
James nodded. “Good choice. Get on with it quickly before I change my mind.”
The man scrambled away as Elize began to cry once more, now that the entertaining movement had stopped.
Once the other man was out of sight, James faced me.
I studied him, wondering if I dared even consider a man linked to my past to guide me to the Dark Woods.
Was it dangerous? Was he? His bright green gaze met mine, and he cocked an eyebrow as if he somehow knew I was considering him.
“Would ye have really killed him?” I asked.
“Aye, if he’d nae left willingly. He threatened ye, and I’d nae have felt right about walking away from ye and leaving a threat.”
“Aren’t ye here for my coin and my mission?” I asked, having assumed that’s why he’d come to my tent.
“I do nae ken of any mission,” he replied.
I frowned. “Why are ye here to see me?” I asked, surprised by the turn of events.
He secured his sword, and then, to my shock, drew off his plaid, revealing a bloody tunic beneath.
“Ye’re injured!” I gasped, starting toward him, but he held up his palm.
“See to the wee lassie first,” he said, nodding to Eliza. “She needs ye more than I do.”
Fate, it seemed, had delivered the answer to my silent prayer, but I knew better than to trust fate, so I scowled at him to show my trust was not easily earned. “Sit there,” I said, pointing to a log. “And try nae to die on me.”
A hearty laugh that made him wince and clutch his side burst from him. “I’ll do my best.”