A Witch's Tale (15 page)

“I
don’t know what you speak of. Sir Gavin seeks to win his title and estates
back. He’s said nothing of gaining a wife.”

The
baron shrugged, his brown eyes filled with amusement. “I do not doubt that
while you warm his bed. Strathmore’s daughter’s hand is also included in said
purse. Enjoy your knight, for he marries another when he wins.”

Madeline
ignored her hurt, deciding she would ask Alastair of this when she saw him. She
set up her work table and ignored the elder de Valmont. Hugh hovered over her
table, glowering down at her.

It
was obvious the spell she cast held. He was impotent still. She was pleased at
least one of her spells held true. It unfortunately affected her freedom if she
was unable to reverse it. She’d poured over her grandmother’s book before her
arrest. She could find no means to do as they asked. Minerva warned her to not
cast indiscriminately. Near rape made her panic that day. She’d been so
overwrought, she’d not been thinking of anything but getting away from Hugh.

She
mixed powders together and could see Hugh was losing patience. He paced and
gnashed his teeth while she worked. She was too panicked to do more than put
together another batch of headache powders from her depleted supplies.

“Does
de Mortaine know you are capable of such evil?” the baron asked and she
flinched from his unkind words. “You have no doubt cast your foul spell upon
him if he can’t see through you.”

“It’s
obvious you hold your son in high esteem after what he attempted to do to me,
Baron,” she noted with bitterness, feeling a twinge to know the man was right.
She had been using magic upon Gavin to maintain his amorous interest these last
two days. “I am not the evil one here! I did not ask to be set upon by your son!”

“We
haven’t time for this,” the older man snapped. “Be done with this now. We have
our own matters to be about.”

“It’s
done,” she said as she handed the vial to Hugh. “Take this and the spell will
be reversed at once.”

Madeline
watched him eat the powders without mixing them, eager to be rid of them both.
His brown eyes filled with satisfaction now as he eyed her speculatively, his
eyes sliding over her with insinuation.

“Now
we will see if it works,” he said as he stalked her, his hands removing his
belt.

Madeline
could see the baron had no intention of stopping his son from doing what he set
out to do in the woods. She backed away, panicking, seeing Hugh’s intent to
finish what he started that day.

“Stay
away from me! I did as you asked!” she cried in outrage, her eyes widening in
fear.

“You
will lie with my son so we’re sure you haven’t cheated us,” the baron said
coldly and his arms folded across his chest. “I might even enjoy your favors
before we leave. It is the least you can do for making us come all this way.”

Madeline
could see the baron meant what he said as he took off his belt and began
removing his velvet surcoat, leering at her boldly now. Hugh came around her
work table with obvious intent, reaching out to snatch her.

The
damning words passed her lips before she could stop them. The chant was
finished as Hugh clapped his heavy hand upon her arm. His arm fell away and
disappeared as his clothes fell to the floor of the tent; the baron’s too. She
cringed to see the pile of clothes where both men once stood.

She
backed away when she saw two small heads stick out from the folds of their
clothing. The two grey rats eyed her with their beady black eyes as they
scurried about. She covered her mouth with shock, staring at them in dismay,
unable to conceive she’d turned both the baron and Hugh into rats.

Voices
outside the tent pulled her out of her shock. She quickly grabbed up both rats
by the tail and flung them into a rain barrel nearby. She kicked their clothing
and heard the jostle of coins. She picked up Baron de Valmont’s weighty purse
and opened it. Her eyes widened to see the gold coins within. There was a small
fortune there.

Thinking
of Gavin’s depleted circumstances and his generosity with her; she tucked the
purse away. She wadded up their clothing and hid it under the bed. She was
pacing and biting her lip as she listened to the rats squeaking within the
barrel, scratching to get out.

Crow’s
nose, what had she done now? She panicked and cast irresponsibly once more with
disastrous results. The Goddess would surely punish her for such wanton
disregard for the rules. Again she’d allowed fear to override her caution.

Madeline
peered down into the barrel. She saw the rats scratching the wooden sides,
trying to crawl out. How long the spell would hold was difficult to know. She
prayed they didn’t remain rats forever. She kept an eye on Gerwin who sniffed
the barrel and meowed, sensing his lunch was not far away.

Thoughts
of the pair being devoured by her cat made her place the lid over the top,
assured the hole in it allowed both to breathe. She returned to her tasks, a
frown marring her brow as she contemplated what the baron said.

Was
it true? Did Gavin win the hand of a lady in the tourney? Tears filled her gaze
to think of the last two days she spent in his arms. Her lover was tireless in
his pursuit to please her. High color rode upon her cheeks to think of the bath
they’d shared the day before and the pleasure found with him. How easily she
allowed herself to forget she bound him to her.

To
know he would marry another made her curse her jealousy. She should have known
he’d have to marry. Why was she hurt to discover it? She knew why and fumed at
her own naïve thoughts. To think she meant more to him than a pretty bedmate
was laughable. He would win the tourney and marry Strathmore’s daughter. No
spell would stop that inevitable course.

She
paused at that bit of information. He could hardly be pleased to marry his
enemy’s daughter. Try as she might; she couldn’t harbor the feelings of anger
to know he kept it from her. She wasn’t here to do more than offer the man his
reward. After the allotted fortnight, he would be gone from her life. She had
no right to this hurt and anger she felt, or this love he gave her now.

Madeline
had nine days left with her valiant knight. Then she would be gone from his
life. The thought of never seeing Gavin again gave her a desolate feeling
inside. Her feelings for the man had blossomed into more than just mere
passion. She’d lost her heart to him.

What
sensible witch would allow such a travesty? She was a failure. Minerva would
mutter and lament over her behavior these last three days with the man. No good
could come of such feelings. No good could come of her using magic to deceive
the man.

Sir
Gavin would soon be
Lord
Gavin. He would marry a trueborn lady.
Bitterness gleamed in her blue gaze as she fed the fire, her hands trembling as
she tossed her cat a warning scowl.

“You
will kindly not eat the baron and his son until I can figure some way out of
this mess, Gerwin.”

The
cat purred loudly and rubbed against her side. She scratched behind his ears
and sighed depressively. She really was the worst witch ever! Minerva no doubt
rolled in her grave to know how badly she’d bungled matters.

Her
grandmother would have known how to undo this. Somehow she must try on her own.
She had nine days before the tourney ended. There was no way of knowing how
long the spell would hold. Thoughts of the pair turning back to form, running
about their tent naked, made her giggle despite the severity of the situation.

Even
now, Gavin refused to believe she was indeed a witch. He thought she played a
game. These silly practices, as he called them, needed to stop. He couldn’t
know how much she wished they could.

From
the time she was a small child she wished to be like all the other children.
When those children played their innocent games; she learned spells at
Minerva’s knee. She’d never regretted any of it until she met Gavin. Before she
met him, she sought only to master her craft.

What
she wanted most now was to see real admiration and love in his green eyes and
to know how it felt to be a real knight’s lady. If only for a little while, she
could pretend she was normal. These desires she felt made her feel out of
control. Binding him to her was only delaying the pain she would feel to know
he could never be hers.

I
don’t need such desires to plague me
, she thought with a pang of
longing. Madeline felt tears start anew to know he would leave her soon. A lump
formed in her throat to not know one spell to stop that from happening.

Magic
couldn’t help her now. For the first time she was at a loss, at the whims of a
fickle heart like any other mortal. Resentment filled her gaze to know he had
to have known his winning included Lord Strathmore’s daughter’s hand in
marriage. He had avoided telling her of it.

 It
was time she took an interest in jousting. Spending time near the field would
offer her a look at the lady who would steal her knight. And like any witch
worth her salt; she would delight in stirring the pot.

****

“You
wish to watch me practice?” Gavin asked and frowned as he rolled to his side in
bed that night, his handsome face filled with unease. “Until the day of the
tournament; I don’t think it wise.”

“Why
not?” Madeline prodded, her blue eyes daring him to tell her about Strathmore’s
daughter. “I don’t see why I can’t watch.”

His
lips tightened and he rolled flat, staring up at the ceiling of the tent. He
rubbed his eyes and sighed. She could see by his tense expression he was trying
to muster some excuse to keep her away from the tiltyards.

“It
isn’t a fit place for women, Madeline,” he told her without meeting her gaze.
“The grounds are filthy; the men coarse. Besides, you are a distraction I don’t
need there.”

Madeline
pouted and sat up. She pulled the sheet up around her nakedness. Anger glowed
within her eyes. He feared she’d learn he deliberately deceived her. That was
why he didn’t want her there. She bristled and flung off the hand that caressed
her shoulder.

“There
is nothing there to see, Madeline,” he told her apologetically and pulled her
backward to lie against his hard chest. “I promise you a seat in the stands
with the men when the match begins, my fiery angel. Come and burn me once more
with your passion.”

She
was hardly appeased. “Why can I not watch you practice?”

Gavin
tilted up her chin and looked angry. “Because too much could happen to you
there. The men who loiter in the area are uncouth and not opposed to snatching
up a lovely young woman left unattended. I cannot be on the field and look out
for you. Obey me in this, my love.”

She
stayed grudgingly silent, biting her lip to keep from informing him she knew
the real reason he kept her from the tiltyards. He didn’t want her to know
about his intended bride should he win. Gavin soon kissed her and she forgot
her reasons to be angry. The passion in his arms made her forget all but him of
late.

The
minute he touched her she burned for him, feeling more afflicted by daily
bindings than him. The power he wielded over her made her despise her weakness,
knowing she did what no self respecting witch would ever do. She’d fallen under
the spell of a man.

After
he made slow, wondrous love to her, he slept. She lay content in his arms,
listening to his deep, even breathing. The strain of the grueling training was
beginning to wear upon him. Each night his arms and shoulders were stiff and
sore, requiring all her best remedies to carry him through the evening. His
temper was short as well, showing the stress he was under.

The
closer the tournament day loomed; the surlier he grew, snapping at his men. She
bit back angry words much of late, knowing he meant nothing by it. Alastair
served as his squire and took the brunt of all. Madeline heard angry exchanges
between the pair daily. Alastair took all without resentment, but Gavin’s
orneriness tested all their patience. Even Gaston was grumbling when his Lord
sent him black looks for no apparent reason.

Their
nerves were all stretched and the desire to get the tournament behind them all
was felt every minute of the day. Three days passed since the baron and Hugh
arrived at their tent. So far, none questioned her keeping the two rats as
pets. She claimed she needed them for her remedies. Gaston pilfered a cage from
somewhere and she no longer had to keep them in the rain barrel.

At
night, she covered the cage, conscious of their beady eyes upon her. She had
yet to find a spell to undo what she’d done.  Gavin didn’t show any signs
of suspecting she placed a spell on him each day. After he left their bed, she
made sure he returned with the same look in his eyes when he gazed at her.

The
tournament was in three days. The feast and ceremonies for the coronation of
James I would follow. Then she would part ways with this handsome knight she
grew to think as hers far too much for her state of mind.

They
didn’t speak of the day she would leave. She knew Gavin was conscious of it.
His lovemaking grew increasingly passionate and prolonged; as if he knew they
would never see each other again. He told her over and over again how much he
loved her. She couldn’t answer his impassioned words, knowing them to be false,
and the product of her daily spell.