Highlander's Winter Tale Page 7

  Cree yanked her out of the chair, his hands going to her waist, lifting her so that her feet barely touched the floor and rushed her to the bed, tossing her down on it. He pushed her garments up, spread her legs, pushed his plaid aside and fell into her.

  Dawn’s chest heaved with a gasp and her arms hurried around her husband. This was what she needed—him inside her. There were many times she felt close to him and loved, but when they joined it was as if they truly became one.

  She let herself drift in the passion that consumed every part of her. There was only here and now and the exquisite feel of him making love to her and try as she might to linger in it, she found herself too close to the edge. She let him know it, squeezing his arms and pushing ever harder against him.

  “I can feel you are ready. We will come together,” he commanded.

  This was one order Dawn did not mind obeying.

  Cree quickened his thrusts and the next moment they both burst in a blinding climax that had Cree tossing his head back with a hardy groan and Dawn squeezing his arms so tightly that he feared her fingers would snap against his rock-hard muscles.

  They lingered in the aftermath, neither wanting to move until Cree rolled off her and took her in his arms. “Good God, but I love you.”

  Dawn smiled and patted his chest, letting him know that she loved him just as much.

  They lay there, enjoying the satisfying pleasure that making love could only bring.

  Cree eased Dawn on her back as he rolled on his side and pushed a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. “There was a moment there in the blinding snow that I thought I saw you approaching me, but you stopped. I worried that you did not see me and feared that you would turn in the wrong direction.”

  Cree listened as his wife explained what had happened, a scowl surfacing on his face after a few moments. “Are you saying Alexander was there in the snow?”

  Dawn nodded and pointed to Cree, then herself and rolled on her side to wave her hand in the space between them.

  “He stood between us?”

  Dawn nodded, tapped at her eye, pointed to him, and shook her head, then moved her fingers as if walking and tossed her hand up, her fingers spreading apart.

  “No, I did not see him, and are you saying I walked through him, chasing him away?”

  Dawn nodded. There were times, her husband seemed more the mighty warrior to her than the loving man she knew him to be. This was one of those times. The heated anger in his dark eyes, the way the muscles in his jaw tightened, and the way his arm muscles grew taut as he fisted his hands...he was ready to do battle.

  “Did he speak with you?” Cree demanded.

  She took no offense to his commanding tone. She knew it was out of concern for her safety. She demonstrated how Alexander had stretched his hand out for her to take.

  “He wanted you to come to him?” Cree asked, the words fueling his anger.

  Dawn nodded and moved her fingers as if walking away, then quickly grabbed herself by the arms and pretended to struggle.

  “You feared he would take hold of you and not let go?” When she responded with a nod, he snapped as if issuing a command. “You will not go near him if he approaches you again.”

  She wanted to share with him what had been even more frightening to her. That he could hear her thoughts, but a knock at the door interrupted her.

  “Who goes there?” Cree shouted.

  A quivering voice answered, “Forgive me for disturbing, my lord, but Old Mary insists that she must see, Lady Dawn.”

  “A moment,” Cree called out and helped his wife off the bed and after seeing to adjusting their garments, he opened the door to find Sloan standing behind the servant lass, Bessa.

  His concerned glance fell on Cree. “You are needed immediately in the tower room.”

  Fear gave courage to Bessa to speak, though did not keep her tears from falling. “Many say that evil dwells among us and will see us all dead.”

  “Hush your foolish words,” Sloan scolded and silenced the lass’ tongue, though not her tears.

  “Return to Old Mary and let her know that Dawn will be there shortly,” Cree ordered the lass and she hurried off. He then bid Sloan to enter.

  As soon as the door was closed, Sloan said, “Alexander toys with us. He escaped again and reappeared again, and the guards grow concerned and rightfully so. If a bolted door with warriors standing guard cannot stop him, what can? And Bessa is right. Fear runs rampant in the keep. Many want to go to their homes. They no longer feel safe here.”

  Dawn stood and went to her husband’s side. She tapped his chest, then his lips, and shrugged.

  “Dawn has a point, perhaps you should speak to those in the keep,” Sloan said. “Calm them. Reassure them. They trust you.”

  “Not for long if I cannot end this madness. I will speak to them when the time is right.” He turned to his wife. “You will do as you promised.”

  Dawn nodded with a smile.

  He kissed her quick. “Shoes and a shawl,” he ordered, “I will not have you catching another chill.” His wife’s broad smile told him that she was thinking how she enjoyed the way he warmed her. He leaned down to whisper, “You will wish for a chill after I get finished heating your body later tonight.”

  Dawn kissed him quick, as if sealing his words with a promise and she hurried to do as he said.

  Moments later, he saw her to Old Mary’s door and reminded her of her promise before closing it behind her.

  “I would be a fool if I did not admit that this man’s unnatural abilities concern me,” Sloan said as they took the stairs to the tower. “There is no proof that he is responsible for the illness that has befallen the keep and he is cordial and mannerly to all, leaving us no reason to harm him.”

  “I do not need a reason,” Cree said and took the stone steps two at a time.

  ~~~

  Dawn sat on the edge of Old Mary’s bed, the old woman appearing more lucid than she had in days.

  “Before you tell me what Elwin had to say, tell me how you fare. I worry about you,” Old Mary said with concern.

  Dawn had brought her joys, hopes, and sorrows to Old Mary, since she had been young. The old woman always had time for her and had always listened when Dawn needed to talk. And presently, Dawn needed to talk with her desperately. Once her hands began moving, they did not stop. Everything poured out of her right down to how she heard the stranger in her head.

  Old Mary gripped Dawn’s wrist and tugged her close, whispering so no one else would hear. “Tell no one that you can hear him. No one. Especially Cree, or soon you will be accused of being possessed by the evil man and accused of possessing Cree.”

  Dawn felt a grip to her chest. She had never given that possibility thought, but Old Mary was right. And never would she take a chance of placing her husband in harm’s way.

  “Be diligent of your thoughts,” Old Mary warned. “Now hurry and tell me what Elwin had to say so I can try and make sense of this madness, while I have my wits about me, and hopefully put a stop to it.”

  Dawn could not agree more. The snowstorm had turned into a nightmare that she wanted desperately to see end. She gestured slowly, feeling as she went that she had failed the old woman, not having learned anything of importance.

  “A talisman can keep a witch at a distance, but we do not deal with a witch here,” Old Mary said after listening to Dawn and turned silent for a few moments. Her voice was a whisper when she spoke again, her strength waning. “What am I failing to see?” She rubbed her head, hoping it would help clear her thoughts and after only a moment stopped and reached out to take Dawn’s hand. “You must think on this and see what we are missing or more will suffer.” She squeezed Dawn’s hand. “And some may die.”

  Dawn shook her head, tapped Old Mary’s arm, and tapped her own chest repeatedly.

  “You cannot stop death.” Old Mary squeezed Dawn’s hand when she once again protested with a strong shake of her head. “Listen to me while
I can make some sense of my words. I am usually the one helping others, but not this time. This time I am one of many who need help. The fever confuses my thoughts and I cannot think clearly and I fight, without success, against the sleep that constantly claims me. It is in your hands now. You must find a way to stop this madness.”

  Chapter Nine

  Dawn bathed Old Mary’s feverish brow with a cool, wet cloth as she drifted off to sleep once again. Old Mary was counting on her help as Dawn had counted on hers through the years. She could not fail her, though she worried she would.

  Myths, tales, beliefs, grew as wild as the plentiful heather that covered the Highland hills. There was not a Highland child that did not hear a tale or two that left them with nightmares and worries that some evil creature would get them. According to tales Dawn was familiar with, there was no way of getting rid of such a creature. You simply stayed clear of it and prayed that one never came for you.

  So how did she rid her clan of this cursed man?

  Cursed!

  What if there was a way to remove the curse? Who would know how to do that? Dawn frowned. Old Mary would likely know, but she did not remain lucid long and the fever kept her thoughts confused. Dawn turned and looked at Elsa. She might know as well, being a healer, but there was no way of waking her from her deep sleep.

  Who else would possibly know?

  Flanna.

  There was a chance she might know. Flanna, more than anyone, knew the most about things that went on here in the keep and with the clan. She would speak to her and find out.

  Dawn refreshed the wet cloth and rested it on Old Mary’s brow, then stood to go find Flanna and stopped when she turned and saw Neil. Worry weighed heavily on his slumped shoulders and in the deep wrinkles around his eyes. She walked over to him and pointed to Elsa, pale and lifeless in sleep.

  “She will not wake up,” he said, choking back his tears.

  Dawn offered encouragement with her heartfelt gestures.

  A hint of a smile touched his lips. “Elsa would say the same and admonish me for not staying strong and having faith.”

  Dawn smiled as well and nodded, agreeing. She cast another glance at Elsa and was about to take her leave when she recalled that Elsa had once been accused of being a witch. Cree had saved her from a horrible fate and at first his men had feared her. It was not until she began to heal many of their battle wounds and illnesses that their fear faded and they accepted her.

  Dawn hoped that Elsa had mentioned something of that time that might be of some help. She gestured slowly to Neil so that he would understand her.

  “Elsa has spoken of that troubling time,” Neil said with a nod. “She was accused of cursing several women in the village who had fallen ill. She was ordered to remove the curse or die. She tried to explain to the villagers that the women were ill not cursed, but they would not listen. If Cree had not come along when he did, they would have hung her and—” he could not finish.

  Dawn’s heart ached for the man and made her all the more determined to get rid of the blight that had befallen the clan. She gestured slowly once again, hoping Elsa had spoken more on curses with Neil.

  Neil nodded, understanding her question. “Elsa did mention that there was some who had come to her, hoping she could remove a curse.” He looked at the woman he loved with a heart-warming smile. “She would give some potions to rid them of the curse, though in truth, she told me, there was never a curse on them to begin with. It was the ones who were truly cursed who she could not help.”

  Elsa stirred, drawing Neil’s attention and he was quick to bathe her brow with a wet cloth and speak reassuringly to her. “It is all right, Elsa. We will make you well again.”

  Dawn left him to look after and comfort Elsa and for Bessa to do the same for Old Mary. She would not expect Dawn to look after her. Old Mary would expect her to do as she said and find out what she had missed, concerning Alexander.

  The solemn and frightened faces that greeted her when she entered the Great Hall in search of Flanna had her stopping and offering comfort to those there. She took trembling hands in hers, and gave them reassuring squeezes while smiling. She gave generous hugs to those with tears in their eyes and helped bathe the brows of those who had fallen ill. She shared a brew with an old woman who wanted desperately to return to her cottage. And when two women spit at a warrior walking past them, claiming he was one of the few who were responsible for bringing the devil down upon them, foolishly having called out names, she shook her head and made them understand that only by protecting one another could they stop evil from touching them.

  When she finally spotted Flanna, she asked if there was any bread and honey for the people to enjoy.

  “Turbett just made fresh loaves,” Flanna informed her and in no time had them brought out to the people who were soon smiling and chatting about how lucky they were to have such a generous lady of the keep.

  Dawn motioned to Flanna that she needed to speak with her and they made their way to a secluded spot just off the Great Hall. She did not waste a moment in asking her what she knew of curses.

  ~~~

  Cree and Sloan entered the tower room to find Alexander poking at the burning logs in the fireplace with a long stick. Cree ordered the two warriors guarding the prisoner to leave and they did so with haste, though the door remained open behind them.

  Alexander tossed the stick into the fire and watched a moment as it was devoured by the flames, then he turned to Cree. “It is time for the truth.”

  Cree crossed his arms over his chest, glared at the man, and demanded, “Who are you?”

  “I am Alexander once laird of a clan whose name is no longer mentioned out of fear. I am the man, ghost, creature of Winter Tale.”

  Cree did not stir and his scowl remained firm on Alexander.

  “You are braver than most,” Alexander said. “The man behind you stirs nervously as do your warriors outside the door, but I sense not an ounce of fear in you.”

  “I do not fear you,” Cree said

  “Your courage gives your men courage, though you are foolish not to fear me, for I am not of flesh and blood and therefore cannot be harmed.”

  “Yet you bled. Cree pointed to his bandaged finger.

  “Another’s blood,” Alexander said, yanking the bandage off to reveal his unmarred finger.

  “Elsa would have noticed that you had no wound.”

  “A bit of diversion saw to that. As I said, I am not of flesh and blood and cannot be injured.”

  “Anyone or thing can be wounded in some way, but let us see if you speak the truth.” Cree took several quick steps toward the man and landed such a hard blow to his jaw that it sent Alexander to his knees.

  After a moment, Alexander got to his feet laughing. “It is one time that I am relieved I cannot be harmed, for that blow surely would have bloodied my mouth.” His laughter faded replaced by a wicked sneer. “You see now that you cannot harm me and there are no walls, no chains that can keep me prisoner.” Alexander approached Cree, getting close enough so that their bodies almost touched. “I will take what I want from you and you are helpless to stop me.”

  “I would not count on that,” Cree said and grabbed Alexander by the throat, lifting him off his feet and slamming him against the stone wall. “I will see you sent to hell where you belong.”

  Alexander laughed again. “Hell would welcome me.”

  Cree released Alexander, realizing that no matter how hard he squeezed the man’s neck, he suffered nothing. He turned away from him to see the sheer look of terror on Sloan’s face, and that terror would soon spread throughout the keep.

  “You are right, Cree,” Alexander said. “Once the people learn there is nothing you can do to stop me, the terror your friend exudes will spread, and your clan will bargain with me for their lives.”

  Cree wanted to wrap his hands around the man’s neck and snap it.

  “Watch your thoughts, Cree, I can hear them clearly and influence th
em just as easily as I will do to everyone here. By the time the snow melts, all that is yours will be mine. I may keep your wife and no influence will be necessary. She will surrender to me easily, for I can give her something that you cannot.”

  “There is nothing you can give her that I have not.”

  “Not even a voice?”

  ~~~

  “The only thing I know of curses is what I have heard from others,” Flanna said. “So this stranger is the cursed man from the Winter Tale?”

  Dawn shrugged.

  “I suppose it is difficult to be certain of such a thing, for who knows how much of the tales and myths are true. My mum used to warn me to believe or one day the banshee would come for me.” She shivered. “I suppose I should have listened to her, though she would be pleased that I have kept the two talismans that she had given me all those years ago. She made me give her my word to always keep them near. She insisted one would let no banshee near me and the other would repel witches. There is also a talisman that can capture a witch’s power and destroy it or so my mum claimed.” She shook her head. “I thought it just a tale, but with what is happening here, it makes me wonder if my mum was wiser than I thought. I will be searching for that other talisman when this is done. It is near impossible to find and only the one who finds it can use it against a witch. In anyone else’s hands, it is useless. But try I will.”

  Dawn drew her shawl snugly around her, a chill drifting off the stone wall, then gestured, letting Flanna know she was more interested in curses.

  “I know little of curses. I have heard the most common of tales and—” Flanna bit back her words.

  Dawn tapped her lips and pointed to Flanna, urging her to finish.

  She reluctantly did so. “Many believed you were cursed when you first arrived here with your mum. It was the reason most everyone kept their distance from you. They feared if they bothered with you in any way that they too would be cursed and lose their voice.” Flanna seemed hesitant to say more, but Dawn urged her to continue, and she did. “Have you not wondered if you were cursed at birth? You are not like others who have no voice. They can at least grunt, make some type of sound, but you? You cannot even make the barest of sounds. And why would a bairn newly born not have a voice?” She lowered her own voice. “Some would say a witch stole it, cursing you to live your life voiceless.”