Scent of a Witch (6 page)

Maeve peeked around the corner attracted by the name Jim. Carrie McGavok, the mistress of Carton House, stood in the doorway, wearing a long blue gown, much more intricate than the one Maeve wore. The woman looked in her direction and Maeve recoiled back into hiding.

“You go on and see what she needs then come back when you can. Its fine
,
I’ll take care of my husband
,
” Carrie assured the man named Jim.

“Thank ya, ma’am. Thank ya.”
Then he took off at a sprint.

Maeve glanced around at all the people, from guests arriving to slaves, and knew she would be spotted if she darted across the field. Nevertheless
,
the slave man was moving fast and her instincts said she should follow. Clutching the shawl around her shoulders tighter, she walked as if she was supposed to be there and kn
ew exactly where she was going.

She didn’t make it two steps.
Maeve stopped short when she found herself face to face with the woman she had learned would soon be known as the Widow of the South.

“I thought I saw someone lurking back there. Are you lost child?” Carrie McGavok asked Maeve in the same steady soft voice
she’d used with the large man.

“No ma’am. I know exactly where I am supposed to be
,
” responded Maev
e in as soft a voice as Carrie.

“My, well you’re not from around these parts, are you? Irish, I would make out your accent to be, indeed. Are you looking for Laird Hughes?”
t
he mistress asked.

“Who ma
’am?” Maeve countered in shock.

“Master Fionn Hughes
,
” She spoke louder then bent down close and whispered. “We know the deeds he does are to be kept secret, and that they’re important to the war effort. You two are safe. Come now, child, and I’ll take you to him.” Then she hooked her arm in Maeve’s and led her across the expanse of lawn under the canopy of tall maple trees. Slaves ran in
and
out the back door the mistress directed her to. A narrow flight of stairs appeared, servants
’
stairs
,
and they had to ascend single file. At the top and beyond the narrow door they turned left, then right
and in
to a private bedroom.

“I’ll send in a fresh dress acceptable for tonight, and my maid, Mariah, to help you get ready. Your beau will be so surprised.” She clapped
her hands with glee then left.

Maeve fell on the feather-filled mattress, closed her eyes, and groaned. How had this happened? She was supposed to be dead before the sun rose, not preparing for her second ball of the evening. What was she going to do? If Fionn was here from before . . . if he saw himself, it would ruin all her plans and worse still, had the potential to rip the very fabric of time.

“Oh no.”
Maeve’s lips soundlessly formed the words as she remembered in her haste she hadn’t spelled the cellar door. Frantically
,
her
gaze
darted around the room
as she sought
escape
.
There! A
window.
Single paned, wood framed windows that caught as she tried to force
it open
made her realize the conveniences she took for granted. Right foot forward, she positioned her right hand under the lip of the window, and shoved with all her might. The wretched thing opened easier than she’d expected, crashing upward and breaking one of the panes. Maeve reached out reflexively, trying to prevent them from falling and making more noise. She caught her breath when a shard of glass sliced across her palm with searing pain.

****

Enraged, Fionn took three deep cleansing breaths and tried to remember the binding spell she cast. He might be able to reverse it. What Maeve didn’t know was that their clans had been bound by the Celtic Knot she wore. But more than that, since she’d been wearing it while she spoke the spell, he could potentially manipulate the reversal.
He
had to recall the words and speak the exact right manipulation or even more could go awry.
“By birthright
.
By blood bond.
I invoke the power of the nexus to release the bonds. Before the light rises so that I may. Put things aright, as they should be.”

Each unseen bond slowly released, starting at his right wrist, moving to his left wrist, then his left ankle, and ending at his right ankle. Suddenly able to move, Fionn didn’t hesitate, taking off at a run up the primitive steps. He kicked open the cellar doors
,
unconcerned
at
what attention his action brought. In this time he was a Confederate Lieutenant
,
and no one would question his presence or anything he did. A servant girl jumped, and the basket she
carried toppled to the ground.

“Child, have you seen a lass dressed i
n white with unbound red hair?”

“Yes sir, Master Hughes. She went int
o the house with the mistress.”

Fionn flinched at the mention of his name. “Did you hear where in the house she would be?” he asked, bending down to help the servant pick up the spilled potatoes. The girl’s white teeth shone in the dark against her brown skin. He remembered this pretty child…she would die in a month’s time
, a
casualty of war. He shook remembering all he witnessed the last time he’d been there.

“She be readying your lady to surprise you. But don’t tell her I told.” Her brilliant smile faded. The McGavoks weren’t mean to their slaves, but they still insi
sted upon respect.

“I won’t,” he promised. Fionn put his hat on, careful to hide the length of his hair, and restrained himself from running at his full speed to the house. It was imperative he get to Maeve without running into himself in the process. He tipped his hat constantly until reaching the foyer of the grand home, when the smell of
Shamrocks
and Honeysuckles found him.

Without hesitation or thought, he followed like a hound on a trail. On the third floor, he burst through a wooden door and found her sitting on a bed crying, her hand wrapped in her skirts
, blood
staining the fabric red. Fear had driven him
,
the dread
that she would succeed and he’d lose her forever
had
sent his heart racing and moved him like a man crazed. Then he found her. Relief was just as sudden as the fear had been. To feel so strongly over a woman he just met
mystified
him. Worse
,
it left him vulnerable to rage. Nevertheless, anger was easier to deal
with now he knew she was safe.

“Do you have any idea how much danger we are in?”
he
forced through clenched teeth. All the volatile emotions erupting in him left him with the urge to roar, fight, or lash out. However, he held them at bay. If they were allowed to appear th
en he’d have to deal with them.

“Oh, why couldn’t you have just let me drown?”
s
he cried
,
hiding her face in her skirts.

Fionn, a man used to living off instinct, trusted those impulses now. He sat down and embraced the despondent woman.

“It’s too late…I’m too late,” she whispered, looking at her watch then crying some more. A knock came, and the door opened without waiting for acknowledgement. A slave appeared in the doorway, a dress cradled in her arms. She halted her forward motion, obviously startled when she saw Maeve crying and in the room alone with Fionn.

“I’m so sorry, mister. The mistress said I was to hel
p the lady clean up and dress.”

“Just leave the dress there and I’ll send for you when she’s feeling better,” he ordere
d, and she quickly disappeared.

The intoxicating scent of
Shamrocks
and Honeysuckles made it hard for him to think straight. “We have to stop the bleeding and get out of here,” he said, aware he stated the obvious, as he unwound the
crude bandage she had applied.

“No! I’m just going to die any
way.” She jerked her hand back.

Fionn’s anger boiled again as he grabbed her shoulders and shook her. “Nonsense! You will not die this night, in this time or anytime while I am still breathing. I vow to you Maeve da Paer, you are special and I will protect you at all costs even from your daft se
lf.”

Her crying stopped and her eyes widened as she stared at him. Then he let her go to tend to her wound. Untying the sash from under his belt, he wrapped it as tight as he’d bound her corset strings earlier.
Then brought the hand to his lips, met her e
yes, and kissed the fabric.

“You smell intoxicating…like your name means. Honeysuckle and
Shamrocks
,
”
h
e muttered into her palm.

“You’re insane
,
”
she
replied. “My blood smells only like
Shamrocks
.” When he let go, she pulled her hand back to her lap and assessed him as if he was indeed insane
.

“I am a tracker. I believe I can decipher what you smell like
,
”
he
insisted fol
ding his arms across his chest.

Sh
e stood and looked down at him.

“Well I
,
sir
,
am a Scent Witch
,
and believe me when I tell you I have always smelled like plain old
Shamrocks
since the day I was born. I have longed to smell as lovely as my Granny Cordy’s floral scent. Nevertheless, it is simply plain old
Shamrocks
. It’s how Patty found me when I would get lost riding as a child as well.”

A tale from Fionn’s youth tickled his memory…about the perfume of a mate causing intoxication. Once again, he pushed it down. No time for analyzing those thoughts.

The bedroom door reopened, startling them both.

“Sir Hughes, I thought you were called away unexpectedly?” Mrs. Carton asked
,
arching a brow
, h
er amber eyes going from Maeve
to
him. The clock in the hall chimed twice
,
signaling the time. It also served to
remind Fionn of his last visit.

“Yes mistress, but when I found out that my wife was here I came back most swiftly to retrieve her
,
”
h
e re
sponded standing up and bowing.

“Your wife…she di
dn’t say you were her husband.”

“Well ma’am, our marriage is one that is a tad scandalous.” He reached out for Maeve and tucked her under his arm. “We were handfast before I left home. Her father wouldn’t give his blessing and so we eloped.” He then kissed Maeve on the temple.

She looked up at him, and he thought he saw the flicker
of softness in her unique eyes.

“If that is the case I’m sure she can’t go where you were journeying. She can stay here if you like. When you are done with your work, you c
an come back and retrieve her.”

“Thank you most kind
ly
mistress.” Fionn bowed again. “Could we have a moment to say our goodbyes?”

Mrs.McGavok exhaled but nodded tensely before leaving. She had a reputation for a staunch following of the rules of propriety. Fionn moved to the window bef
ore the door latch had clicked.

“Thank the fates you aren’t leaving me here,” Maeve said right behind him. The window moved
without mishap
for hi
m and he saw her roll her eyes.

“If you’re done with your suicide attempts?” he asked, helping her out onto the roof of the porch. “Otherwise I may
reconsider taking you with me.”

“Yes. I’m through. Not only is it too late, I begin to think it may be folly. It seems like
the very world is against me.”

Fionn didn’t know why, but his relief at her change of heart caused him to embrace her. Then to cover up his need for the contact, he jumped from the second story roof at the back of the h
ouse.

The musicians still played cheerful music in the ballroom, indicating the dance was
g
oing strong. Fionn held his arm around Maeve’s waist, keeping her tucked safely under his grip as if he was scared she would bolt at any moment. But Maeve was done trying to change the past in order to fix the future. Sitting in the room crying and having someone to depend
on
for just a moment, she was able to look at the signs and knew she’d chosen the wrong path. With Fionn, ironically, she felt
…
safe.

He spoke as he walked away from the main house. “There is no way we’re going to get back into that cellar.”

“It doesn’t matter. At dawn, we’ll slide back. We just need to make sure wherever it is we slide from this time to the next isn’t somewhere we would be seen.” The slave quarters came in view and he led her to the woods outside of it, then stopped short and pulled he
r down behind a set off bushes.

“Look there, lass.” He pointed to a tall man with his arm around a woman with deep red hair pulling out of a crude knot. They were both clad in odd garments for the time. When Maeve spotted what was in the woman’s arms and how she placed kisses all over the infant’s face, a chill rippled through her. The man, her grandfather, wrapped his arm around his wife and t
hey disappeared into the woods.

Fionn interlocked their fingers and pulled her along past the place her family had just stood. For once in her life, Maeve followed without question or complaint, so consumed in her thoughts she hadn’t noticed they were in the cemetery…a graveyard that would triple i
n size in the next thirty days.

“You are a very witty man, Mr. Hughes.” Maeve stared up into his face. Under the light of the moon, he looked scary with his dark hair and pale skin aglow. But it was his eyes, black with a band of glowing red encompassing them, which made him appear the supernatural being he was. Even knowing all those truths, she recognized he was a man of honor, of old traditions and even one who knew pain and betrayal. Maeve couldn’t explain it but she felt protected
;
she trusted in his vow of protection. What she didn’t trus
t was his motivation behind it.

She looked around and decided while they waited for the sun to rise now would be just as good a time as any to find some answers. Although it was highly indecent, she sat on a head stone and folded her arms across her chest. The way his eyes followed her movements, staring for a moment at her arms before meeting her eyes, confirmed the man
at least found her attractive.

“How’d you esca
pe my binding spell?”