The Laird of Stonehaven (5 page)

“You can and you will,” Graeme said firmly. “You must heed your father’s last wishes, lass.”

She shook her head, sending a cascade of golden curls tumbling into her eyes. “Nay, I canna! Dinna ask it of me.”

“I will give you time to bid your father a final good-bye before we leave.”

He withdrew, taking Father Lachlan with him.

“Dinna let the lass change yer mind, Graeme Campbell,” Lachlan warned once they were alone.

“I willna,” Graeme replied. “I made a promise to Douglas MacArthur and I intend to keep it.”

By the time he had dressed and was ready to leave, the afternoon was already waning. Plagued by impatience, he opened the chamber door and stepped inside. Blair was kneeling at her father’s bedside, her head bowed, her lips moving in silent prayer.

“ ’Tis time to leave, lass,” Graeme said. If she heard, she gave no sign of it.

Taking a firm grip on her shoulders, Graeme lifted her to her feet and turned her toward the door. “Dress as quickly as you can and meet me in the hall.”

Blair moved woodenly toward the door, pausing once to glance over her shoulder for a final look at her father. Then Graeme hurried her out and down the gallery to her own chamber.

“I’ll send Alyce up to help you,” he said in parting.

Blair sat on the edge of her bed, unable to move or think beyond the fact that her father was dead and she was being forced to leave the only home she had ever known to live with a man she knew only from her dreams and visions. Blair had known from a very young age that she was the Faery Woman from the Prophecy, for even then she’d sensed her powers and spoken with the spirits, but it wasn’t until the past few months that she had sensed any real danger to her.

No matter what people thought, she wasn’t a witch. Though she admitted to summoning spirits, it was only for good purposes. And there were times she used her powers to heal wounds that could not be healed by other means. How could anyone accuse her of witchcraft when she believed in God’s power and goodness and wanted only to help people?

“Yer husband is waiting for ye, lass,” Alyce said, bustling into the chamber. “Why are ye nae dressed?”

“I know Father wanted me to leave before Niall arrives, but is it really necessary, Alyce?”

“Ye know it is. Up with ye now, yer husband awaits ye. I packed yer belongings while ye were praying over yer father so as not to delay the Campbell when ’twas time for the leave-taking. With any luck, ye’ll reach Stonehaven before Niall realizes ye’re gone.”

Graeme sent Blair’s trunks ahead on the pony cart and had horses prepared for Blair and Alyce along with his own. By the time the women arrived in the hall, a hasty meal had been set out on tables for them.

“I’m not hungry,” Blair said, eyeing the food with distaste.

“None of that, lass,” Graeme said sternly. “You’ll eat even if I have to feed you. We’ll be riding hard and fast, with few stops.”

“Laird Campbell is right,” Alyce said. “Eat up, lass.”

Blair ate, but Graeme could tell her heart wasn’t in it. He couldn’t blame her. It couldn’t be easy for her to leave before old Douglas was properly laid to rest. But a promise was a promise, and if Douglas feared for his daughter’s life, then Graeme knew the danger to her was very real.

Graeme’s men had eaten and left to see to their mounts when Graeme rose and signaled to Blair and Alyce that it was time to depart. Father Lachlan came forth to bid them good-bye.

“Godspeed,” he said. “Unfortunately, Douglas died before he could make arrangements for Blair’s dowry, so ye must speak to Niall about it when he returns.”

“Verra well. There is something I would ask of you, Father,” Graeme said.

“Name it. If ’tis within my power, I will see it done.”

“Keep me informed of any mischief Niall might plan against Stonehaven.”

“Aye. Many here remain faithful to the old laird and his daughter. If Niall plans mischief, ye’ll know of it.” He pulled Graeme aside, out of Blair’s hearing. “Treat the lass well, Campbell, else ye’ll answer to me.”

“I dinna abuse women,” Graeme said, “but I willna allow the lass to cast spells or summon spirits.”

Just then Heath hailed Graeme, forestalling Lachlan’s reply. ’Twas time to go.

“Good-bye, Father Lachlan,” Graeme called as he mounted his horse and led the small party away from Gairloch.

Blair’s back hurt and her legs were chafed, but somehow she managed to keep up with Graeme. She knew how to ride, of course, but had never ridden any great distance before. When night fell they made a rough camp, but they were up again and in the saddle soon after dawn.

Had Blair not been so distraught, she would have appreciated the majestic mountain peaks rising above them and the carpet of purple heather blooming on the moors. She couldn’t recall ever traveling so far from Gairloch. Because of her powers, her father had been unwilling to let her venture beyond the village.

“We’re nearly home,” Graeme said, riding back to join her. “Keep looking toward the west and you’ll see Stonehaven’s towers. Stonehaven isna as grand as your father’s keep, but you should find it comfortable.”

Blair spotted the square towers situated on a spit of land that jutted out into Loch Torridon a few minutes later. Stonehaven might not be as grand as Gairloch, but it was nevertheless impressive with its thick walls and iron portcullis guarding the keep. As they rode through the village of neat cottages clustered outside the gate, the cotters came from their houses to stare at her.

Their expressions, ranging from sullen to frightened to downright hostile, did not bode well for her. Blair was not immune to the whispers trailing in their wake, but if Graeme heard them he gave no hint of it. It appeared her undeserved reputation had preceded her, for the word “witch” struck her over and over like physical blows.

“Pay them no heed, lass,” Alyce advised as she rode up beside her. “They’ll soon change their minds.”

“Graeme must know what his people think of me,” Blair lamented. “Why did Father do this to me?”

“Ye know why,” Alyce maintained. “Give it time, Blair. Things will change.”

They passed through the raised portcullis and rode across the bailey to the front steps of the keep. Graeme dismounted and lifted Blair from her horse while Heath assisted Alyce.

“Welcome to your new home, Blair,” Graeme said.

The sturdy oaken door opened as they started up the stairs. Graeme’s uncle, Stuart Campbell, stepped out to greet them.

“That didna take long, Nephew. I’m glad ye managed to avoid wedding the witch.” His appreciative glance found Blair and lingered. “Who is this lass? Did one of MacArthur’s kinswomen catch yer eye? She’s a comely wench. Glenda will be a wee bit jealous, but she had ye to herself too long.”

Graeme sent Stuart a warning look and cleared his throat, hoping to stop his uncle’s prattle. Unfortunately, Stuart seemed oblivious to Graeme’s admonition.

“Are ye going to introduce me to the lass, lad?”

“Cease your blathering, Uncle,” Graeme said. “If you let me get a word in edgewise, I’ll introduce you to my wife. Blair, this is my uncle, Stuart Campbell—a more talkative mon you’ll never meet. Uncle, this is Blair, Douglas MacArthur’s daughter and my wife. We were wed yesterday.”

Stuart lurched backward as if struck. “Ye wed the witch? What is she, a changeling? What happened to her hooked nose and straggly black hair? Where is the wart?”

“The stories about Blair were wildly exaggerated. My wife is a healer, not a witch. And as you can see, she is beautiful.”

“A changeling,” Stuart muttered.

Hands on hips, Alyce stepped forward, shielding Blair from Stuart’s view. “Keep yer opinions to yerself, old mon. My lassie is sweet and good, better than the likes of ye. Hurt her and ye’ll have me to answer to.”

“Who are you?” Stuart asked, keeping a wary distance from the irate woman.

“Alyce. I raised Blair from the time she was a wee bairn. I know her better than anyone in this world, and I am telling ye she isna a witch.”

Graeme moved to intervene before Blair’s pugnacious defender attacked Stuart. “Do me a favor and find Maeve, Uncle. Chambers need to be prepared for Blair and Alyce, and I want to introduce Maeve to her new mistress. I’ll explain everything to you later. We’re all tired from the long ride and in need of food and baths.

“Maeve is the housekeeper,” he said in an aside to Blair. “She and her husband Jamie have run the fortress since my father’s time.”

“Are ye looking for me, laird?”

An elderly woman with iron-gray hair, full figure and eyes as blue as Graeme’s bustled over to join them.

“Aye, Maeve,” Graeme said. “I want to introduce you to your new mistress.” He pulled Blair forward. “Greet my wife, Blair MacArthur.”

Maeve stared at Blair, then hastily crossed herself, her lips moving in silent prayer. “Ye’ve gone and done it now, Graeme Campbell. Have ye taken leave of yer senses? Ye have wedded yerself to a witch.”

Once again Alyce flew to Blair’s defense. “Mind yer tongue, woman! My lass isna a witch. If ye know what’s good for ye, ye’ll spread the word to yer kinsmen. My lass is the mistress here and—”

“Leave off, Alyce,” Blair said gently. “I can fight my own battles.” She smiled at Maeve. “I’m sure Maeve and I will get along just fine. I am a healer, Maeve, and I hope my skills will prove useful to my husband’s kinsmen. I can prepare infusions, herbals, salves and simples for their ills and injuries.”

Maeve didn’t look convinced, though she put on a brave face. “Aye, mistress, if ye say so. If ye’ll excuse me, I’ll see to yer food and bath.” She scooted off as fast as her plump legs could carry her.

“Wait for me,” Alyce said, hurrying after Maeve. “I will help prepare Blair’s food.”

“Your people fear me,” Blair said.

“ ’Tis unfortunate,” Graeme agreed, “but their opinion can be changed. ’Tis up to you to show them you are naught more than what you claim.”

“What about you, Graeme Campbell? Do you believe I am what I claim?”

Blair didn’t need to hear his answer—the purple aura emanating from him spoke louder than words. Purple was the color of doubt and confusion. He feared her and was confused about his own feelings concerning their marriage.

Their relationship was doomed even before it began.

“Would you like to eat before you bathe?” Graeme asked when the silence between them lengthened. “Your trunks haven’t arrived yet, but they should be here soon.”

“Aye,” Blair answered. “I will bathe when I have clean clothing to change into.”

Stuart chose that moment to return with another man in tow.

“This is Jamie,” Graeme said, “Stonehaven’s steward. You can depend on him and his wife Maeve for whatever you need.”

Blair prepared herself for another rejection by Graeme’s kinsmen and was pleasantly surprised when Jamie offered her a warm smile of welcome.

“So our laird has finally taken himself a wife,” the elderly man chuckled. “ ’Tis about time. Welcome, my lady. I will help ye acquaint yerself with Stonehaven.”

“Thank you, Jamie,” Blair said. She sent a sidelong glance at Graeme. “I fear I shall need all the help I can get.”

“Yer chamber is prepared,” Jamie said. “Ye must be exhausted. I’ll have Maeve fix ye a tray so ye can eat in yer room, if ye’d like.”

“That would be wonderful, Jamie. Food, a bath and a good night’s sleep are all I shall require tonight.”

“I’ll show you the way,” Graeme said, guiding Blair from the hall toward a steep flight of stairs.

A lump formed in Blair’s throat. Did Graeme expect to consummate their wedding vows tonight? She sincerely hoped not. What he had begun last night had proven how easily she would succumb to him, how fast he could bring her body to the point where she actually craved him.

“Your bedchamber is part of the master’s chamber,” Graeme said. “I thought of putting you elsewhere, but decided it wouldna look right for the laird’s wife to sleep away from her husband.”

Relief spread through Blair. “You dinna intend to . . . to . . .”

“Consummate our marriage? Your father is dead. I see no reason to do something you obviously find abhorrent.”

“But I thought ’twas necessary.” God’s nightgown, she sounded as if she were begging!

Graeme shrugged. “Only if you want it. ’Twas your decision to keep our marriage free of intimacy, not mine.”

He paused before an open door and ushered her inside. “You should be comfortable here.”

More than comfortable, Blair thought as she surveyed her surroundings. The chamber, softened by candlelight, had obviously been intended for a lady. Feminine colors decorated the bed hangings and two long windows, and the walls were hung with colorful tapestries, keeping drafts at bay. Besides an intricately carved bed that rested on a dais, there were a dainty writing desk, dressing table, wardrobe, rocking chair, and several benches placed before the hearth.

“The chamber is lovely,” Blair commented. “I shall be quite content here.”

“If there is anything you desire, just ask Jamie.”

“Is there a stillroom where I can dry my herbs and mix my salves and simples?”

“Aye, beyond the kitchen garden.” He sent her a probing look. “I meant what I said, Blair. There will be no casting of spells at Stonehaven.”

She whirled away from him and walked to the window. “Do you fear me, Graeme Campbell?”

“I fear no woman, lass, witch or nay.” He reached her in three long strides and turned her to face him. Raising her chin with one long finger, he stared into the turbulent depths of her violet eyes. “Say the word and I will make you my wife in more than name. Right here, right now.”

She lowered her lids, unable to look at him without feeling guilt over her decision. “I thought you understood why I canna give my body to you.”

“Perhaps I would understand if you explained it to me again.”

“The Prophecy says the Faery Woman who loves in vain will lose her powers.”

“I have heard the Prophecy. It says the Faery Woman must undergo ordeals of fire, water and stone, but it says naught about refusing her husband his marital rights.”

“I am afraid.” The admission trembled from her lips.