Awakening Her Soul to Destiny (23 page)

Turning away from Jared to avoid his piercing gaze, “Macvorn was kind enough to send me,” she replied, “He didna’ want ye to be lonely.” Elsbet spoke softly, turning back to face Jared, glancing up through her thick dark lashes to see his reaction to her words. She slowly moved closer, positioning herself seductively within reach, twisting her torso to an inviting display of her cleavage.

Jared’s face slowly turned a brilliant crimson as he clenched his fists in rage, “The bastard! I know damn well it wasna’ my loneliness the rogue was thinking of!” Ignoring Elsbet’s alluring display, Jared strode to the door, nearly pulling it off the hinges as he flung it open. “I think it’d be best for ye to return to your lands, Elsbet. This conniving isna’ like ye.”

“
But Jared, ye canna send me away!” she pouted. “I have no one to ride with me. It wouldna’ be safe for me to travel alone, not as angry as Ravon is…anyone might fall victim to his evil whims,” Elsbet pleaded relentlessly. Seemingly genuine fear tinged her every word.

“
I canna transport ye, I dinna have the powers to do so.” Jared glared at her with contempt, “I guess ye must stay but only until I can find enough clansmen to properly protect ye on yer journey home. For now just leave me be for awhile, I canna bear the sight of ye and the reminder of the calculatin’ bastard that sent ye!” Jared stood grimly at the door, waiting to close it firmly behind Elsbet.

Just before passing through the doorway, Elsbet kissed Jared firmly, pressing her body tightly against his. “I love ye, Jared. ‘Twould be so much easier if ye’d but try to love me back.” Then was out the doorway and down the long corridor before Jared could react.

Wiping the kiss from his mouth with the back of his hand, Jared winced, “Damn the woman! She’s as devious as Macvorn. The sooner I get the wench from this place the better!” Jared strode down the hallway, bellowing for Hobart as he went. He had to find out how many clansmen were presently stationed in the Keep. His boots echoed down the long hallway, the wood plank flooring and high stone walls lending to the hollow acoustics. The flaming sconces cast eerie shadows along the walls and floor, magnifying the sense of emptiness even further.

Traveling down the rear stairway, Jared turned at the landing and entered the huge kitchen of the Keep. If anyone would know the current situation of the Keep, it would be Mistress Frann. Mistress Frann had been the cook and chief matron at Cuchailard Keep for as long as Jared could remember. Standing at the long wooden counter, the huge motherly woman was currently elbow deep in bread dough. “Sit ye down at the table, lad, and I’ll carve ye a piece o’me best chicken pie,” Mistress Frann instructed without turning from the dough. She had the sight and was gifted in many of the ways; hence, nothing in Cuchailard Keep escaped the notice of Mistress Frann.

Obediently seating himself at the long worktable, Jared waited expectantly, “Mistress Frann, will ye no sit and join me?” Jared knew from past experience there was no sense in attempting to rush Mistress Frann. She did things in her own good time and if anyone tried to push her, she’d slow to a screeching halt. The best way to gather information from the kindly matron was to sit in her kitchen, enjoy her delicious food, and patiently wait until she felt so inclined to cooperate.

“
Are ye daft, lad? D’ye think I have nothing more to do wi’me time then to loll about the kitchen and idly chat wi’ye?” she asked in a mock scolding tone. Jared had always been one of her favorites among the Keep and she was pleased that he’d finally sought her council. She turned from the dough, deftly wiping her hands on the white apron covering her massive body. Cocking her head to one side, she studied Jared with a twinkle in her eye, “I’ve missed ye, laddie, and glad ye’ve finally returned ta’ home.” Waddling gracefully to a stool at the worktable, Mistress Frann plopped her ample body down. Glancing over to the work counter, she eyed two stoneware mugs and a small jug of cider, still cold from the spring. At her silent bidding, the mugs and cider obediently traveled from the countertop to the table, coming to rest directly in front of Mistress Frann. Directing her gaze to the huge cooking hearth, the cast iron door to the built-in oven slowly opened, revealing her famous chicken pie within. Soon the pie, carving knife, two plates and silverware were also resting within easy reach of the plump hostess. Slicing a generous helping of chicken pie onto each plate, Mistress Frann plopped one of the steaming dishes in front of Jared, “Now tell Frannie why ye’ve returned to the Keep wi’out the one ye love.”

“
Ach, Mistress Frann, everything’s become so complicated,” Jared lamented as he forked a tender piece of chicken pie, mouth watering from the rich aroma rising from the plate.

“
Life usually is, Jared. Did Etain no’ teach ye that?” Frann cocked one eyebrow at Jared as she filled the mugs with the sparkling cold cider.

Setting his fork on his plate, Jared looked up at Mistress Frann with hopeless eyes, “Laird Caymber doesna’ wish for his daughter to wed the grandson of Ravon.” Jared took a deep draught of the cider, then sat staring forelornly into the stoneware mug, “He has decided to give her to Macvorn even though he knows she doesna’ love him.”

Finishing the forkful of chicken she’d just popped into her mouth, Frann wrinkled her forehead in concentration, “Has Caymber forgotten what he went through with Kaitla’s mother?” she asked Jared, with a frown. Shaking her head slowly in disbelief, she continued before he could answer, “I canna believe he’d force the lass to wed someone she doesna’ love.” Setting down her fork, she studied Jared carefully. “What else is it, lad…out with it,” she said, folding her hands in front of her.

“
Kaitla’s with Macvorn now. I’m sore afraid of what will happen along the way,” Jared muttered. Dropping his own fork to his empty plate and resting his head in his hands.

Patting his arm with her pudgy hand, Mistress Frann smiled at Jared consolingly, “If the lass truly loves ye, if yer love is destined to be, then there’s not a thing ta’ fret about, laddie.” Raising both eyebrows, Mistress Frann silently directed the empty plates and silverware to relocate to the basin full of wash water by the window. Once there, the dishes immediately scrubbed themselves clean and returned obediently to their designated cabinets. Pouring them each another mug full of cider, she continued, “Ye must have faith in yer love.”

Wriggling uncomfortably on his own stool, Jared glanced up at Frann from his mug, “Aye, but ‘tis a bit more complicated, Frann.” Avoiding her gaze, Jared quickly confessed to his lies about his relationship with Elsbet and what had happened when the truth came out.

Shaking her head and clucking her tongue in disapproval, Mistress Frann scowled at Jared, “I canna believe ye lied to her Jared. Ye know better!” Shaking a finger in his face, “Ye had the same problem as a child. How many times did I take the wooden spoon to yer behind for the tellin’ of tales?”

“
Aye, I remember each and every swat, Mistress! But I didna’ wish to hurt the lass, I was just trying to give her more time ta’ know me before I told her everything. She didna’ trust anyone when we first met,” Jared lamely defended, silently wondering if this trip to the kitchen had been so wise after all.

Pushing her body from the table, Mistress Frann returned to the dough on the work counter shaking her head at Jared’s ignorance. “Ye wanted the lass to trust ye, so ye lied to her. That makes no sense, Jared,” she observed wryly.

Returning his head to his hands, he mumbled, “Dinna ye think I’ve learned that by now?”

Hands on her ample hips, Mistress Frann’s voice softened, as she eyed the miserable lad at the table. “Aye, well…it all worked out anyway, the lass did forgive ye; did she not?” she prodded gently.

Jared took a long drink of cider, then carefully placed the mug back on the table, “She forgave me. But what will she think when she arrives and Elsbet is here?” he asked bleakly. Jared glared at Frann as he continued, “Macvorn sent Elsbet here to drive Kaitla away from me. The bastard knows that is the weakness in our relationship, he merely has ta’ feed Kaitla’s insecurities to make the breach widen.”

Frann’s eyes narrowed as she stroked her chin thoughtfully, “Ahh, so that’s why Lady Elsbet appeared without warnin’.” She’d wondered how the unaccompanied young lass had arrived so quickly to Cuchailard Keep. This time of year, the traveling tents of Clan Gwynedd were always at least a three-day ride away. The fact that Lady Elsbet had also arrived alone had also seemed quite strange. No woman had traveled alone in the realm since Ravon had committed his first rape, escaping punishment by the Council on some technicality. Once he’d successfully gotten away with the first crime, it had been quite easy to continue to prey upon helpless women. “How d’ye mean to send her away, Jared? No one here has the power to transport the wee vixen back to her home.”

Eyeing Frann hopefully, Jared explained, “That’s why I came in search of ye, Mistress Frann. How many clansmen have we currently at the Keep?”

“
Why none, lad,” Frann replied, her eyes widening as she realized the portent of her words.

“
None!” Jared exclaimed rising from his seat. “No guards, runners or tenants at all?”

Pacing in front of the wide cooking hearth, Mistress Frann nervously tapped the palm of her hand with one of her large wooden spoons. “It all makes sense now! As soon as Elsbet appeared at the Keep, all the kinsmen left immediately, claiming they’d been summoned. We’ve naught here but a few stable lads and one or two of the oldest servants. Macvorn must’ve telepathed the clansmen ta’ leave.”

“
How could my own clan desert me like this? How could they leave ye unguarded?” Jared demanded, voice hoarse with anger.

“
Jared, ye know as well as I the answer. The clansmen will follow the orders of the Laird they ha’sworn loyalty to. If Macvorn made the message appear to be from Laird Caymber, the clansmen had no choice but to follow orders.” Shaking her head sadly, Frann ceased her pacing and settled for stirring the pot bubbling over the fire. “Ye must simply make the best of it, laddie…and dinna find yourself alone with Elsbet!” she cautioned, waving the dripping spoon in his direction. “If Macvorn is determined to undermine ye, he willna’ leave the situation here ta’ chance,” she continued, returning the spoon to the pot. With a glance at the puddled floor, a mop from the cupboard quickly appeared to swab up the mess then returned to its post until called upon again.

Resuming his own pacing across the polished stone floor, Jared’s anger finally erupted. “Damn! I wish I had the bastard’s neck between m’hands!” he roared slamming both fists onto the worktable.

Frowning at Jared’s outburst, Mistress Frann wielded the wooden spoon at him once again to emphasize her words, “Reign in that temper, laddie. Ye must be clear headed and sly if ye are ta’ win this battle!” Returning the spoon to the simmering pot, she continued sternly, “Ye may not have the gifts of Macvorn nor the power of Caymber, but ye can still come through this if ye but keep yer head!”

Sighing in resignation, Jared turned to stare through the open doorway into the herb garden, “Somehow, I’ll beat Macvorn,” he swore coldly. “He’ll not have Kaitla easily!”

At that moment, Hobart came rushing into the kitchen barely pausing to bob his head in greeting to Mistress Frann. “Jared! A sealed message just arrived from Etain. It must be urgent for her to actually transport a message instead of using one of the Laird’s runners!” Handing the rolled parchment to Jared, Hobart waited anxiously while Jared carefully broke the wax seal bearing Etain’s initials.

Unrolling the parchment slowly, Jared’s expression of grim resolution as his eyes flicked back and forth along the lines, clearly told Hobart and Mistress Frann the news must not be favorable. Once he finished reading, Jared dropped the paper silently to the floor. Turning without a word, he bent his head in anguish and disappeared into the herb garden, leaving Hobart and Mistress Frann to stare at the rolled parchment lying on the floor.

Slowly retrieving the parchment and turning it over in his hands, Hobart glanced at Mistress Frann with eyebrows arched in unspoken question.

“
Well go on, man….read it!” Mistress Frann urged anxiously. “How are we ta’ help the lad if we dinna ken what’s going on!”

Nodding quickly in agreement, Hobart carefully unrolled the parchment and read the message aloud:

Dearest Jared,

I send this urgent message to ye to warn ye of what is to be. Modron has agreed to the union of Macvorn and Kaitla, he and Caymber having signed the marriage agreement this very day. Caymber has given his oath that Kaitla will be wed to Macvorn….willingly or not. If she refuses, she must appear before the council for judgement. Anyone interfering in the union will be either executed or banished permanently from the realm. I know what is in your heart, Jared. But I fear it must not be. I beg ye to put aside your feelings for the lass and attempt to grow warmer to Elsbet. The council is enchanted with the idea of a new gifted race emerging from the union of Macvorn and Kaitla. I have never seen them so taken. Save yourself my lad, I beg ye. We shall be at the Keep in three days time to prepare for the wedding.

Forgive me,

Etain

“
Go find him, Hobart. He doesna’ need ta’ be alone,” Mistress Frann quietly urged, taking the parchment from Hobart’s gnarled hands and tossing it forcefully into the fire.

Hobart left the kitchen in search of Jared. After covering almost every square inch of the massive old Keep, he was ready to give up when he finally came upon Jared seated behind the stables. Sitting on a worn wooden bench over-looking the valley below, Jared didn’t even look up when Hobart came wheezing up beside him and dropped with relief onto the seat.