The Laird of Stonehaven (9 page)

Within minutes she felt vibrations. Then the babe gasped and let out a lusty cry. Immediately her lips turned a healthy pink and her skin lost its pallor.

“She lives! I heard her cry!” Mab called from the bed.

Blair wrapped the tiny bairn in swaddling clothes and brought her to Mab, laying her gently in her mother’s arms. When she looked up, she saw Graeme standing in the doorway. She hurried over to him and all but pushed him out the door.

“What are you going here?”

“When you didna show up at supper I asked around, and Stuart recalled seeing you leave the keep with someone from the village. I wanted to know what mischief you were up to and followed.”

“How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough to know the bairn was stillborn. What did you do to bring it back to life?” He backed away, his expression a mixture of awe and revulsion. “Did you use magic? Can you raise the dead? Is that one of your powers?”

“The bairn wasna dead,” Blair contended. “I canna raise the dead. Only God can do that.”

“What about the mother? The women waiting outside for word of the birth said they thought Mab had died because her moans and screams stopped moments after you arrived. The midwife isna pleased with you. You’ve gone too far. You’ve furthered your reputation as a witch and earned an enemy.”

“I helped a mother bring a child into the world tonight,” Blair protested. She pushed past him. “I must leave instructions for Mab’s care with Rona before I go.”

Blair returned to the bedroom and gathered up her things. After leaving several pouches of herbs with instructions for their use, she left the small cottage. Graeme trailed behind her.

“May my brothers and I see my mother and new sister, my lady?” Carla asked timidly.

“Your mother is resting right now, but I’m sure she’d like to see you. Dinna stay too long.”

Carla grasped Blair’s hand and kissed it. “Thank ye, my lady. I dinna care what Gunna says, ye canna be a witch.”

As a path opened up for her outside the cottage, Blair decided Carla was the only one of that opinion. The fierce scowls that Gunna and her cronies directed at her did not bode well for her future at Stonehaven. The tense atmosphere crackled with a word that brought fear to her heart.

Witch.

“Go home,” Graeme ordered the gaggle of women. “There is naught more you can do here. Mab and her bairn are well and in good hands.”

As if to confirm his words, Rona appeared in the doorway, holding the babe in her arms. “The laird speaks the truth,” she said, “and we have his lady to thank.”

The smile she bestowed upon Blair told her she had made at least one friend in the village. In time, she hoped to gain the trust of those who feared her powers, and that included her husband.

“You shouldna have gone off on your own,” Graeme chided. “Have you any idea how worried I was when I learned you had gone to the village alone? Scotsmen are a superstitious lot, as you well know. They dinna trust you yet. You put yourself in grave danger by venturing out alone.”

“Mab’s bairn was in distress and I couldna afford to delay.”

Disbelief marched across Graeme’s face. “How did you know that?”

“I . . . sensed it,” Blair hedged. “Carla was most insistent that I leave immediately, and so I did.”

“You made a powerful enemy,” Graeme said as he grasped Blair’s arm and guided her along the path to the keep. A misty darkness had settled over the hills and rose up from the ground in eerie tendrils. The footing could be treacherous unless one was accustomed to traveling the path.

“Gunna is a trusted midwife. You should not have interfered. You must promise to be more circumspect in the future.”

A wolf howled, and a shiver ran down Graeme’s spine. ’Twas a perfect night for spirits and ghouls, if one believed in them.

“I canna make that promise,” Blair demurred. “I must go where I am needed.”

Graeme halted. The pressure on her arm brought Blair to a standstill beside him. “What is it, Graeme?” she asked.

“I need you, Blair.”

A tense silence ensued. When she spoke, her words held a world of regret. “ ’Tis not the same thing, Graeme. Loving you would be so easy, but . . .”

“But what?”

“Unless my love is returned, I will lose my powers.”

“What you ask of me is impossible. I scarcely know you. I would like to know you better, but you willna allow it. Mayhap in time we would come to love one another.”

“Until that day comes, I canna risk giving you my heart.”

“Then give me your body.”

She inhaled sharply and backed away.

“What’s wrong, lass? I didna ask for your heart.”

“Aye, you did, Graeme Campbell,” she whispered. “I canna give you my body, for to do so would leave my heart vulnerable to love. I dinna want to lose my soul to you.”

His hand remained on her arm, a visible reminder of his strength. “What if I said I loved you?”

“Then I would say you’re a liar, Graeme Campbell.”

Was
he a liar? Graeme wondered. Had a Faery Woman he scarcely knew stolen his heart?

Nay, he decided. Only a madman would love a witch.

During the following days, Graeme’s words haunted Blair’s every thought. How dare he lie to her! He couldn’t possibly love her. His words had been meant to confuse her. He wanted her in his bed and would say anything to get her there. Even more shocking was the fact that she
wanted
to be in his bed. The only thing stopping her was the Prophecy.

Already a few of Graeme’s braver kinsmen had sought her counsel for various ailments. She had treated minor burns with salves, used willow juice extracted from the bark and leaves of that tree to ease aches related to fever and colds, and dispensed red clover to colicky bairns. While she was careful to give no one a reason to fear her, she was still considered evil by Gunna and her cronies.

The midwife had made Blair a target for all the anger and hatred in the village. Each day Alyce reported new gossip circulating among the servants, most of it concerning witchcraft and the dark arts.

Blair saw little of Graeme during those days. Obviously, he was avoiding her. One night, when the full moon rode high in the sky, Blair was lured to the stillroom by her inner voice. It was almost as if the spirits were calling to her, drawing her from her chamber with invisible cords. All that day a feeling of impending doom had troubled her. She could no more ignore the spirits than she could deny herself air.

Blair donned a robe over her flimsy night rail and quietly left her chamber. It was after midnight, and no one stirred within the keep as she tiptoed down the stairs, lighting the way with a candle. She arrived at the stillroom without incident, placed the candle on her worktable and quietly began her preparations.

Using a chalky stone she had brought with her from Gairloch, she drew a circle on the flagstones before the open window and sprinkled dried herbs inside. Then she placed candles at measured intervals around the circle, stepped inside and lit them with a faggot she had ignited from the candle.

When the candles burned strong and their flames began to change color, the moon suddenly appeared to grow brighter, shedding its light through the open window and arraying Blair in a silvery glow. Raising her arms, Blair reached out to embrace the light, opening her soul to the forces of nature and inviting the spirits into her mind and heart. Then she chanted:

“Spirits, come to me,
Open my eyes and let me see.”

A mist formed before her eyes as an errant breeze blew through the window, lifting the heavy weight of her hair and setting her skirts aflutter. Then the mist slowly cleared and she saw her brother as clearly as if he were standing before her. He was not alone. Donal MacKay was with him.

“What does it mean?” she cried out to the spirits. “What are you trying to tell me?”

A voice wafted to her on the wind, soft, low, urgent. “They will come and you will be forever changed.”

“How will I change?”

The voice echoed hollowly in the small space. “You know what you must do to survive. Cleave to your husband. There will be trials. Beware of fire, water and stone.”

“What about my husband? Will these trials you speak of affect him?”

“Only he can save you.”

“I dinna understand. Niall and the MacKay can no longer harm me.”

The voice was but a fading whisper. “To foil their plans, you must become a wife . . . a wife . . . a wife . . .” The words trailed off, leaving Blair more confused than ever.

“Wait, dinna leave! I am already a wife. What more must I do?”

The reply was faint but still audible. “Danger stalks both you and your husband.”

A gust of cold wind blew over her, leaving her flesh chilled and her heart icy with dread. Squeezing her eyes tightly shut, Blair willed the spirits to return, but they remained stubbornly silent. The images of her brother and MacKay were gone, but she felt their threat keenly. The spirits had revealed a great deal, yet little of it made sense.

Blair extinguished the candles and stepped outside the circle. She returned the candles to the cupboard, swept up the herbs and threw a straw mat over the circle. Then she left the stillroom and returned to the keep.

Graeme moved away from the window, his expression hardened by a mixture of disbelief and horror. It had been pure chance that he was still awake at midnight and had walked to the window in time to see Blair entering the stillroom. He couldn’t account for his restlessness as he’d prowled his chamber. But he knew what had drawn him to the window. Dazzling light from the full moon had flooded his chamber, and his intention had been to close the shutters so he could fall asleep.

Blair had caught his attention immediately as she entered the stillroom. His first instinct had been to follow and see what she was up to. Then something strange happened. The moon seemed to grow brighter, momentarily blinding Graeme.

He was so stunned, time seemed to stand still. What was happening inside the stillroom? Was Blair practicing black magic? Was she conjuring evil spirits? Communicating with the devil? He shook his head in dismay. Nothing so dramatic, he’d wager. But he fully intended to find out what she was up to.

Before he could will his body to move, he spied Blair leaving the stillroom. He watched her return to the keep, then left his chamber.

Blair’s mind was in total confusion as she made her way back to her bedchamber. The message she had received was neither comforting nor comprehensible. As she set the candle down on the nightstand, she felt prickles along her spine. She sensed that she wasn’t alone. She froze and peered into the shadows beyond the ring of candlelight.

“Who’s there?”

A figure emerged. A tall man blessed with broad shoulders, slim waist and massive chest. He wore a plaid held in place by a wide belt and naught else. Blair backed away from the menace inherent in his stance.

“What are you doing here?”

“ ’Tis my home. I go where I please.”

“Go away.”

“What were you doing in the stillroom? What kind of spell were you casting?”

“I dinna cast spells. I commune with the spirits of nature.”

His brows lifted. “In the middle of the night?”

“The time doesna matter. I answer their call when they summon me.”

“Stop it, Blair! Stop it right now! There are no spirits. There is only God, and He doesna speak to mere mortals. You are not making my vow to protect you easy. What if someone had seen you going to the stillroom at this hour? What if someone had misinterpreted your purpose and accused you of witchcraft? Must I lock you inside your chamber at night?”

Blair needed to make Graeme understand that danger stalked him as well as her. She had to find a way to reach him. “Listen to me, Graeme. There is something you should know.”

He sent her a skeptical look. “Go on.”

“Niall and Donal MacKay are planning mischief.”

“What kind of mischief?” he asked. “Should I be afraid?”

“Aye, verra afraid. Alert your kinsmen and take precautions to protect yourself and your property.”

Impatiently Graeme lanced his fingers through his disheveled hair. “How do you know this?”

“I . . . just know.”

“Give me proof.”

She shook her head. “I canna. You have to trust me.”

“Your information isna substantial enough to act upon. I refuse to frighten my kinsmen for something you perceive but canna prove.”

“The spirits—”

“What spirits?” Graeme challenged. “Evil spirits?”

“Nay! Dinna make me out to be something other than what I am. The spirits warned me of impending danger. Sometimes they come to me in dreams and visions.”

Amusement colored his words. “What did they tell you tonight? Did those spiritual beings chide you for avoiding my bed?”

He was closer to the truth than Blair cared to admit. “I have told you what they said, but you dinna believe me. My brother isna a good man, and Donal MacKay is even worse. Together they present a real threat to us.”

“We are wed, Blair. Niall can do naught to harm either of us. You are safe here at Stonehaven.”

“What can I say to convince you to heed my warning? The danger to us is verra real. I know not how or when or what form it will take, but it will come.”

Graeme paced forward until they were standing nose to nose. “I refuse to be frightened by vague threats. Your imagination is truly amazing, lass.” His fingers curled around her shoulders. “I promised your father I would take care of you, and that includes protecting you from your own follies. Forget this nonsense about spirits and voices and concentrate on honing your healing skills. Give my kinsmen no reason to fear you.”

His voice was so stern, Blair tried to edge away, but he would not allow it. His face, half hidden by shadows, was set in determined lines. “I mean what I say, Blair. Mayhap you should sleep in my bed so I can make sure you dinna wander off in the middle of the night.”

She stared up at him, her eyes wide and her mouth open. Suddenly the whole world was held in his blue eyes and she could not look away. The glint in Graeme’s gaze should have warned her about the temptation her lush lips posed. Without any other warning, he brought his mouth down hard on hers. Magic enveloped her and she lost herself in the sweet bliss of his kiss, in the intoxicating sensation of his strong arms holding her against him, and the liquid warmth surging through her.