Mary Robb - Down the Rabbit Hole

“Guest? And wearing the precious clothes old Maura hoards as though they are rare treasures? I’ve never known the old crone to let anyone even touch the lady Catherine’s gowns, let alone wear them.”

“And that troubles you, Edwina?”

At Colin’s question, her dead eyes narrowed. “Though this woman claims to be of our clan, I know her not. You’d be wise to send out riders to see who she really is, brother. Perhaps one of the neighboring crofters has misplaced an addled wife.”

“I thank you for your concern for my guest.” Colin made a slight bow before offering his arm to Beth. “Let us enjoy the food Mistress MacKay has prepared. The hunt always sharpens my appetite.”

As they turned away, Beth caught sight of the anger flaring in Edwina’s eyes as the silly geese surrounded her, heads bobbing, tails wriggling nervously, beaks flapping.

Beth was reminded again of her dream. There had been no geese. Only a man and a woman. The voices had been mere whispers. It wasn’t possible to recognize them among these guests. And yet the obvious fury in Edwina’s eyes could not be masked, making her suspect.

Beth pondered her problem. If she were to tell Colin about the words she’d overheard, would he be grateful for the warning? Or would it be one more reason for him to believe she was truly addled?

Could there possibly be others among this company who wanted Lord Colin Gordon dead? Was there an insidious plot to have him killed? Or had her fall, and her subsequent failure to represent her firm, made her want to believe in silly fairy tales, rather than concentrate on the true purpose of her visit? There was no denying that she wasn’t looking forward to seeing Colin’s face when that happened.

While she sorted out fact from fiction, she decided that for now she would watch and listen—and try not to draw any more attention to herself than necessary.

* * *

Colin glanced around the cluster of guests. “What is your tally so far, Ian?”

“Ten and two quail. A score of pheasants. But I intend to double that before the day ends.” Colin’s stepbrother tossed back a tankard before holding it out for a refill.

A serving wench was quick to attend to his need.

The men stood in a circle, drinking ale and paying little attention to the women seated beneath the tent.

Perhaps, Beth thought, it was because their women, despite the fashionable gowns, still had webbed feet and feathered wings. But the men fared little better. As she watched, Ian once again became a sly fox, while Hamish seemed to hunch into himself, growing shorter and shorter until he more resembled a mouse than a man.

Beth blinked, hoping to dispel the image, but now she realized the other men had also changed back from human to animal form. Though most were hounds, one was a hawk, with sharp, knowing eyes, watching the others.

She turned to where Colin stood a little apart, talking quietly to Jamie. The lad was now a wolf pup, eyes bright, tail wagging in a sign of friendship, while Colin had been transformed into a sleek, proud stag, with powerful antlers that could take down an opponent with one deadly swipe.

While she watched, the animal fixed her with a look so fierce, she felt a prickling sensation along her back and arms. He’d looked the same after her fall, when he’d greeted her with such disdain.

Despite her fear, she couldn’t bring herself to look away.

The beautiful animal pranced toward her, keeping her in its line of vision, and though she wanted to run in fear, she was rooted to the spot.

“You should eat something.” Before her eyes the animal disappeared. In its place was her handsome host. “Mistress MacKay will take offense if you refuse to sample her cooking.” He studied her pale face with a look of concern. “Are you feeling ill?”

She shook her head, desperately trying to keep up with the troubling transformations that had her believing she must surely be going mad. “I’m fine. And you’re right. We mustn’t offend the cook.”

He smiled. “I’ve often referred to her as a better fisherman than any here. She always manages to catch the finest salmon, the largest trout in our Highland streams.”

Beth looked over and saw the cook, transformed into a crane, standing as still as a statue, watching live fish swimming in a bucket of water. With split-second timing she dipped her head and caught several in her mouth before depositing them over hot coals.

Beth glanced around. Had no one else seen it?

Colin held Beth’s chair, and she was grateful to let her weak legs fold under as she took a seat with the geese.

Colin sat beside her, and the hunters followed his lead, joining their women as the meal was served.

In the blink of an eye Beth watched all the guests return to their human forms. She took a calming drink of ale and gripped the edge of the table for support.

Edwina shot a quick look at her brother. “Who is winning the wager so far?”

Ian shrugged. “Hamish and I are even. But I’ve decided on yet another wager. A hundred gold coins to the first one to bring down a stag.”

Colin’s head came up sharply. “We are hunting pheasants and quail. You’re not to disturb the deer in the forest.”

“Why such concern, brother?”

“’Tis mating season. I’ll not have the herds thinned for the sake of a handful of gold.”

“We’ll take care not to harm the females or their young.” Ian eyed his stepbrother. “Surely the loss of one stag shouldn’t matter to you.” He looked around with a knowing smile. “As we all know, it takes but one rutting male to populate an entire forest of willing females.”

Around the table the men nodded and joined in the laughter. Even the women covered their mouths to hide their smiles.

Seeing Colin’s frown, Ian arched a brow before glancing at the others. “Or are you more concerned with one particular stag?”

Hamish shot him a puzzled look. “Are you suggesting the laird would protect the Beast?”

“Perhaps.” Ian looked directly at Colin. “Or perhaps you merely wish to save that trophy for yourself?”

Hamish looked astonished. “Have you ever actually dared to hunt the Beast, m’laird?”

“I have not.” Colin drained his tankard. “And I would ask that none of my guests dare to attempt such a dangerous thing.”

“Because you fear for our lives?” Ian persisted. “Or is it the Beast you worry after?”

Colin’s tone was brisk. “I have graciously provided you with enough fowl to satisfy your appetite for the hunt. I now command that you refrain from hunting the four-legged animals during this mating season, so that the forest will continue to feed our people for generations to come.”

“Ye’ve heard it. The laird . . . commands.” Ian’s tone was sharp with sarcasm. “And we all know the laird’s command must be obeyed without question. Without regard to the fact that this command will cost me one hundred gold coins.”

Hamish flushed, as did several others, who were aware of the sting of anger in the young man’s words, directed at their host.

“I’ll choose to overlook that for now, brother.” Colin pushed away from the table. “Let the hunt continue.”

As the men mounted their eager steeds, the women treated themselves to slices of rich brandied cake, dotted with currants and drizzled with honey, before facing their return by wagon to the lodge.

Colin turned to Beth. “If you are weary of the hunt, you may remain here with the ladies. They will soon be back in the comforting care of my servants.”

She gave a quick shake of her head. “I’d prefer to ride with you.”

He seemed pleased with her choice. “Very well.” He offered his arm and she placed a hand on his. “Jamie, lad, fetch the lady’s mount.”