Ruth Langan - Highland Sword

She took hold of the back of a chair and went very still, struggling to keep her wits about her. But now there was a strange buzzing in her head, and little stars began floating in front of her eyes. Bright they were, and giving off sparks that blinded her. It was unlike anything she’d ever experienced before.

As if from a great distance she heard the lord’s voice calling to her. “What are you about now, woman? I’ll have none of your tricks. Come here and see to my son.”

She wanted to answer him. But though she opened her mouth, no words came out. Instead, the room went suddenly dark. She felt herself tumbling down into a deep, black abyss.

Strong arms caught and held her before she could fall to the floor. She felt herself being lifted and cradled against a solid wall of chest. She had not the strength to lift so much as a hand in her defense as she was lowered to a pallet.

There were voices. So many voices around her, and all of them babbling.

The high-pitched voice of the housekeeper. “Well, m’lord, no wonder the poor lass fainted. How long has it been since you fed her?”

The impatient tone of her captor cut through. “There was no time for food, Mistress MacDonald.”

“No time for food? And what about dry clothes?” Something tugged on Allegra’s boots, and she felt warm fingers rolling away her cold, wet stockings. “Look at her. Soaked to the skin. Ye must leave now, m’lord. ’Twouldn’t be proper for ye to stay here while I strip away her clothes and wrap her in dry linen.”

“I have no intention of letting this woman out of my sight until Hamish is healed.”

A long, deep sigh, and then the resigned notes of the housekeeper. “Very well, m’lord. But to preserve her modesty, ye will walk to the balcony until I’ve dressed her in a dry night shift.”

Allegra heard the sounds of booted feet storming across the room, and then the soft rustling as the housekeeper began removing her wet gown and undergarments.

When Allegra’s eyes opened the old woman took a step back, her face registering shock, then fear, then resignation. Pressing her lips together, she returned to the bedside, determined to complete her task.

Allegra touched a hand to her head. “I’ve never…fainted before.”

“Ye’ve no doubt never gone this long without eating before, I’ll wager. I’ve sent a serving wench to fetch some broth and biscuits.”

“Thank you, Mistress MacDonald.”

The housekeeper’s lips curved into a lopsided smile. “Up close ye don’t look like a witch. Why, ye’re hardly more than a lass.”

“I’m ten and nine. By the time my mother was my age, she had three babes.”

“As did I. I was wed when I was but ten and three.” The old woman helped her into a soft, warm night shift, before draping her in a shawl for modesty. “This’ll warm ye.”

“Thank you.” Allegra looked around. “Where am I?”

“Ye’re still in the lad’s chamber. I’ve made up a pallet for ye near his.” She lowered her voice. “The lord wouldn’t hear of ye leaving the lad’s bedside.”

“You’re very kind, Mistress MacDonald.”

The old woman shook her head. “Ye’re here to heal our dear Hamish. For that, I’ll do whatever I can to see to ye’r comfort, lass.”

“Even though you’re afraid of me?”

The housekeeper gave her a sideways glance. “Are ye reading my mind?”

Allegra laughed, a clear lilting sound. “There’s no need to do that, Mistress MacDonald. You’re not very good at hiding your feelings.”

“Are ye a witch, lass?”

Allegra’s smile faded. “Perhaps. I don’t know.”

“Isn’t that why ye live in the Mystical Kingdom? To keep ye’r secrets from the rest of us mortals?”

Allegra shook her head. “The Mystical Kingdom has been home to our clan for hundreds of years. I’ve been there since I was very young. My mum and gram say we took refuge there because the outside world fears and reviles what it cannot understand. There are many who would punish us for being different.”

“What is ye’r name, lass?”

“Allegra. Allegra of the clan Drummond.”

“Ah. ’Tis an ancient and honorable clan, Allegra Drummond.”

When a shadow fell over the bed both women looked up. From the scowl on Merrick MacAndrew’s face, Allegra had no doubt that he’d overheard everything.

“I see you’re well enough to gossip with my housekeeper. Does this mean you’re well enough now to see to the lad?”

Mistress MacDonald crossed her arms over her chest. “I’ve ordered broth and biscuits for the lass. And Cook has prepared a meal for ye in the great hall, m’lord, where Mordred and Desmond await ye.”

“Tell Cook I’ll take my meal here, Mistress MacDonald.”

“Here?” She glanced around. “But the lass…”

“Is here at my pleasure. She will sup with me. And then, when her strength is restored, she will do what she was brought here to do.”

“Aye, m’lord.” The old woman gave a worried glance at Allegra before hurrying off to see that the lord’s orders were carried out.

When the housekeeper returned, she was trailed by half a dozen servants. While two of them set a table in front of the fireplace, laying it with fine linen, crystal and silver, the others were busy setting an array of food on a sideboard.

When all was in readiness the old woman sent the servants scurrying before announcing, “Ye’r dinner is served, m’lord. Will ye have ale?”

“I will. And so will the woman. It will help warm her.”

“Aye, m’lord.” After filling two goblets, she stood beside the table. “I’ll just wait and serve ye’r food.”

“There’s no need, Mistress MacDonald. You’re needed in the great hall. Fill our plates with a variety of Cook’s fine food. If we want more, we can serve ourselves.”

“Aye, m’lord.” After doing as he asked, the old woman gave a last worried glance at Allegra before bustling from the room.

When she was gone, Merrick startled Allegra by lifting her from her pallet.

She shrank back. “What are you doing?”

“I don’t want you fainting on me again.” His warm breath feathered the hair at her temple, sending the most amazing curls of pleasure along her spine. For the first time in hours she felt warm, all the way to her toes.

She didn’t know what to do with her arms. To keep them from encircling his neck, she clasped her hands together tightly. Because he was holding her so close, her face rested naturally against the warm hollow of his throat. She breathed in the unfamiliar scent of him, and found it so potent it went straight to her head.

This was a different kind of dizziness. Though her mind seemed to spin in lazy circles, she felt strangely focused. And though one part of her wanted to move away, another, stronger part of her wanted to remain just this way.

She’d never been held by a man before, except for her father. But he hadn’t lived long enough for her to remember much about him, except in dreams. Before, when Merrick had held her astride his horse, she’d been too afraid to allow the sensations to sink in. Now it wasn’t fear she was experiencing, but something far different. Something so alien, she would need time and distance to sort it out.

“You’ll sit here.” He lowered her onto a furdraped chaise set before the fire.

Once he released her, he reached for a goblet of ale and handed it to her. “This, and the fire, will have you warm in no time.”

He circled the table and took the seat across from her before picking up his own goblet and drinking. Allegra did the same, feeling the warmth of the ale seep into her veins.

Though her shift of white lawn was modest enough, with a high rounded neckline and long, tapered sleeves, it couldn’t hide the lithe young body beneath. Even the shawl draped about her shoulders couldn’t hide the swell of breasts. The bare feet peeking out from beneath her long skirts made Merrick aware that, except for the shift, she wore nothing.