Under an Enchantment: A Novella (2 page)

She’d tried to escape the trap fate had provided for her. She smeared dirt on her face, let her hair hang in tangles down her back, and done her best imitation of poor mad Ophelia. She’d sung “Wae Is Me for Charlie” and the like, but to no avail. Sir Duncan declared himself pleased with a half-witted bride—she’d provide no distressing intellectual conversation. She’d be content to spend her married life on her back, where he wanted her to be.

She’d tried to run away, but her brother Angus had come after her, and being a brute and a bully, he’d beaten her unmercifully. And so she’d married, and lain on her back in Sir Duncan’s huge bed.

But Sir Duncan’s desire outstripped his capabilities. And as the weeks turned into months, and then into years, he no longer attempted to claim his child bride. He was content simply to watch her.

Torquil would never be satisfied with so little. And while she hadn’t yet given up the notion of running, St. Columba was a small island, and she was well-known. Escape would be well nigh impossible. Since Torquil as well as her brothers would come after her.

She had time enough. Her brothers were very conventional Scots, true followers of the kirk and the laws of God and man. They wouldn’t marry her off to Torquil until the customary year of mourning was up. She was safe and snug in the dower house, while Torquil had moved into his cousin’s manor house, the huge drafty building he’d always coveted, as he’d coveted his cousin’s wife. Sir Duncan had fathered no children—Torquil and Ailie were his only heirs—and Torquil’s desire to unify the inheritance was a good part of his lust for her.

Duncan had been dead six weeks. She had a little over ten months of freedom left, and she intended to enjoy them to their fullest.

“
Good day to you, Lady Spens,” Jane Morrow, the baker’s wife, greeted her. They looked after her, the people of St. Columba did, watching over her with anxious affection that was only faintly stifling.

Ailie flung back her hair and smiled at the woman. “Good day to you, Jane. It’s a lovely day, is it not? A good day for the faeries.”

Jane gave her that kindly smile. “Indeed it is, mistress. Have ye heard about the selkie?”

Ailie stopped in her tracks, her toes chilled on the cobbled roadway. “A selkie?” she said. “Have you heard a new story?”

“
Nay, lass,” Jane said comfortably. “We’ve seen one.”

For a moment Ailie didn’t move. “Seen one?” she echoed. “Are you certain?”

“
And wouldn’t I be knowing, me being bred of stock that mated with the seal people in centuries past?” Jane demanded. “As were half the inhabitants of this village, and well you know it. He walked out of the ocean, miss, straight up to Collis MacDewar, and took him up to the hill.”

“
Did he look like a seal?”

“
Faith, no!” Jane laughed. “He took the form of a man, of course. They always do. And what a man! Handsome as sin. Of course, he’d have to be.”

“
Why?” Ailie asked.

“
He’s come for a bairn.”

“
He’s going to steal children?” Ailie asked, horror breaking through her usually airy demeanor.

“
Nay, lass. He’s going to find a young girl and get her with child. Then he’ll go back to the sea. That’s what they do, you know. That’s why most of us on this island are descended from the seal people. Except for that bastard Domnhall.” She spat as she said the name of the seal hunter.

“
He’s handsome, you say?”

“
As the devil. With eyes that could look right through you,” Jane said vigorously.

Ailie smiled. The sun was bright overhead, and at least for now, no one had any power over her. “I’m going to see him,” she said. “I’ve never seen an enchanted creature before. Not up close.”

“
Ye mustn’t!” Jane said, suddenly sober. “Haven’t I warned you? He’s looking for an innocent young lass to seduce.”

“
I’m a widow, Jane. Hardly an innocent.”

“
Lass, you’re one of God’s creatures, innocent as a babe, and I imagine you always will be. I wouldn’t want you hurt.”

“
He won’t hurt me,” Ailie said serenely. “Old Morag will see that I’m kept safe.”

Jane shook her head, but Ailie had already moved onward, through the town, heading up the narrow track that led to Collis’s croft. The people of St. Columba called out to her as she passed, but she didn’t hesitate. They would worry about her, when there was no need. No selkie from the great dark green sea would hurt her. She wanted to see a faerie up close, look into those dark wondrous eyes Jane had talked about, and learn if she could see her future.

She could just imagine her brothers’ reaction when they heard of Collis’s visitor. Fortunately most of them were in Edinburgh, only Angus remaining behind to watch over their half-mad little sister. If he caught wind of an enchanted creature come to St. Columba, he’d probably send word to Domnhall the seal hunter to dispatch him.

She couldn’t let that happen. Collis would warn him, no doubt, but he might not listen. She’d never met a selkie before, she had no idea how practical they might be. Having lived their lives at the bottom of the sea, they might not know of the treachery of man.

It was a warm day for September. She climbed steadily, up the narrow path, rolling up her loose sleeves as she went, baring her strong forearms to the bright sun, shaking her thick hair out behind her. This time next year she’d be trapped once more. Torquil might own her in bed, but he couldn’t force her to behave. He would have to stand by as she forgot her bonnet, her hairpins, her shoes. With any luck, if he insisted on marrying her, he might at least grow tired of her witlessness. Leaving her free to live her life of dreams.

She wandered the hills often, knowing where each croft lay, knowing the names and temperaments of the animals, the children, the inhabitants. Collis was a crusty old bachelor, one who suffered from the ague and the long nights. She liked him, and he liked her. He’d often tell her stories of piskies and broonies and the like, and never once did he suggest that he didn’t believe just as devoutly as she did. Though she suspected he was far more practical than he let on with her.

She hadn’t brought anything for him, a failing that sorrowed her. She should have brought some fresh fish from the harbor. A seal-man would eat fish, wouldn’t he? Would he eat it raw, like a sea gull?

The croft lay nestled in a tiny pocket by the hill, a thin plume of smoke coming out of the chimney. Tammas stood in the doorway, watching her approach with unabashed pleasure, his tail wagging wildly as he rushed out to greet her.

She knelt down, her skirts trailing in the dirt, and let him lick her face, crooning to him as she did so. He smelled sweet and doggy, like the sea and the hills and the gorse, and she leaned her forehead against his shaggy coat.

He was watching her. She could feel his eyes upon her, watching her, touching her, and she lifted her head, like a doe sensing a predator.

He was standing in the doorway of the old croft, filling it, yet he wasn’t that broad or tall. He was very still, and his eyes danced over her, skimming across her skin like a physical touch.

It was disturbing, but not unpleasant. Invading, but not encroaching. She sat back on her heels, her mussed skirts around her, and looked at him.

“
Are you the selkie?” she asked, her voice cool and calm.

“
So they say.” His voice unnerving, deep and sure like his steady gaze. A voice that could reach out and touch her. Was this what enchantment was?

“
And what do you say?” She allowed her curiosity free rein.

“
My name is Malcolm.”

She smiled at him. Surely no one named Malcolm could be that great a danger, enchanted or no. “I’m Ailie,” she said.

“
Ailie. A pretty name. Were you looking for Collis?”

“
I was looking for you.”

He looked startled by her artless speech. “For what reason?”

“
I’ve never seen a faerie creature before.”

“
And you have now?”

She smiled, a shy, secret smile, staring at him, wondering what his skin would feel like. It was a golden brown, the color of a man who spent long hours in the sun. “Are you a golden-brown seal?” she asked, not answering his question. “Or is your pelt the color of your hair?”

His hair had dried on his shoulders, and he picked up a strand, staring at it as if he’d never seen it before. As indeed, thought Ailie, he might not have. “I’m black, like my hair,” he said. “Like my heart.”

“
No,” she said, slowly shaking her head. “Selkies aren’t evil. They mean humans no harm.”

“
I’m an exception,” he said. “I’ve come to cause harm to three humans. If I can find them.”

She stared at him, nonplussed. Then she rose, crossing the dirt-packed front yard to the door of the croft. “But you won’t harm me,” she said. “You have no need.”

He didn’t move. “Mistress, have you any idea how dangerous this might be?”

“
Why?”

“
Collis is nowhere around. I’m a stranger who walked out of the sea, and there’s no knowing who and what I might be. I could do you grave harm.”

She shook her head. “You won’t,” she said. “I know these things.” He had the faintest growth of beard on his face, as if he hadn’t shaved in several days. She wondered how his skin would feel against her hand. Without hesitation she reached up and touched him.

He was so startled he jerked away as if burned, catching her wrist in his strong hand. “What are you doing?”

“
I wanted to see if you were warm or cold.”

He shook his head in amazement. “Hot, mistress,” he said flatly. “Looking at you.”

She took a step backward, but he didn’t release her. “Jane said you were here to father a bairn,” she said, wishing his skin wasn’t so warm, so tantalizingly rough on her wrist. The men who had touched her, her husband, Torquil, all had soft, useless skin.

“
She did, did she? Are you offering?” The question was low-voiced, dangerous, but Ailie didn’t flinch.

She shook her head, and her hair flowed round her shoulders, catching his eye. “Not I,” she said. “You wouldn’t want to get a babe on a woman who was daft, would you?”

“
Are you?”

She smiled up at him, her own, secret smile. “So they say.” She repeated his own words.

He echoed hers right back. “And what do you say?”

She looked down at the hand that covered her wrist. The dark, suntanned skin, the long fingers. “I dance to my own waltz, Malcolm,” she said. “Beware of Domnhall.”

“
Domnhall?”

“
The seal hunter. He would kill you the moment you changed back. He might not even wait that long. Collis will tell you.” She tugged her hand away, and he released her. Her wrist felt cold without his flesh touching hers. She backed away from him, her gaze not leaving his dark green eyes. She could see the future there, and the past. She could see the dark roiling sea that was his home.

“
Are you afraid of me?”

She considered the notion, still moving. “I’m not certain yet.”

“
Are you running from me?”

She paused in the midst of her retreat, and a smile spread over her face. “Yes,” she said simply. And she turned and scampered back down the hillside, her skirts and her long hair flying out behind her.

“
Ye’ll not harm her,” Collis said, appearing in the door behind him.

Malcolm stood very still, watching as the overgrown sprite raced down the hill with nary a glance backward. “Why should I?”

“
She’s an innocent. We all watch out for her on the island, since she’s scarce capable of watching out for herself. She’s a simple creature, one who means no harm, and it would go ill with you were you to hurt her.”

“
A simple creature,” Malcolm murmured. “I’m not sure if I agree with that. I think she’s far more complex than she appears.”

“
She believes in faeries and elves and broonies.”

“
And you believe in selkies,” Malcolm pointed out.

“
That’s different. Most folk on this island are descended from the seals. It’s a matter of history.”

Malcolm didn’t bother to look at him. “I won’t hurt the lass,” he said. “I don’t know why you think I should.”

“
Because she’s Ailie Wallace Spens. Daughter of your enemy. Widow of your enemy. Affianced bride of your enemy.”

Every muscle in Malcolm’s body tightened. He was more than adept at hiding his reactions, and he kept his face like granite.

“
She’s been busy in her short life,” he replied in a casual tone to the man who’d been his mother’s servant and friend a lifetime ago.

“
Ye’re not to harm her.”

Malcolm turned to look at the little old man whose help he needed. “Of course not,” he said simply.

Collis stared at him sharply, and then he nodded. Believing Malcolm’s lie.

Because Malcolm James Kendrick MacLaren had every intention of harming Ailie Wallace Spens, if need be. He wasn’t about to let sentiment stop him. She might be the only way he could get to his last surviving enemy. The only way he could strike beyond the grave of her father and husband.

And if he had to hurt an innocent, half-mazed creature to do so, then he wouldn’t hesitate. He’d traveled too far to weaken.