Duncan (Immortal Highlander Clan MacMar #5)

Chapter 4

Chapter Four

N icole was able to take a bath the next morning, thanks to Lady Valerie sending up maids with large buckets of steaming water, a gown for her to wear after, and some linens. Two guards carried in a wooden tub just large enough for her to sit down in. As the maids filled the tub, one placed the clean clothes and linens on a table near it, and came over to offer her a small crock filled with a brown slimy substance.

“’Tis soap, my lady.” She tucked a strand of shiny black hair under her white cap. “I’m Eilihd, the head maid. If you’ve any need, bid one of the guards fetch me.” She reached into her apron pocket for a handful of flower petals, which she dropped in the tub before she curtseyed and left with the others.

Stripping out of the long shirt, Nicole grimaced at the grittiness of salt residue on her skin. She should have washed at the basin last night, but she had fallen asleep in the chair by the hearth. After placing the soap crock on the floor within reach, she gratefully climbed into the tub. The steam had prepared her for the heat of the water, but not the silkiness of it against her skin.

“This is better than I thought.” Gingerly she sank down and leaned back with a sigh. The scent from the flower petals rolled over her in a gentle wave of sweetness. “Oh, much better.”

She allowed herself to soak for a time, dunking her head repeatedly until the sticky stiffness left her hair. Once the water began to cool she reached for the soap. To her surprise the stuff smelled better than it looked, as if it had been rendered with peaches and honey. She had to use only a little for washing before she sluiced it off and climbed out to take the jug from the wash stand. Stepping back into the tub, she poured the cold water over her head to give her hair and skin a final rinse.

Just after she dressed in the cream-colored woolen gown, which laced up the back like an old fashioned corset, she heard a knock. She pulled the damp linen sheet she’d used to dry off over her exposed back before she went to answer it.

The petite woman standing in the hall looked to be about Nicole’s age, and held a large basket of spooled ribbons, scissors, cloth shoes and fabric in her arms. She had a freckled face, very bright copper-red hair, and gentle eyes.

“I’m Lark, the clan’s seamstress,” the woman said in a distinct New York accent. “Lady Valerie told me you arrived last night. If you’d like some better-fitting clothes, I can measure you and make them up.”

“That would be wonderful, thank you.” Nicole stepped back to let her inside. “Should I take off this gown? I haven’t managed to lace it up yet.”

“If you don’t mind, yes, please. It would help me get more accurate measurements.” Lark brought a small table over to the hearth and placed some of the ribbon spools on it. “I was the second time traveler to come to Caladh. I was mugged and nearly drowned in a fountain in Central Park. You’re from New England, judging by your accent.”

“Yes, I was born in Boston.” She went to join her, and noted how the other woman averted her gaze. “It’s nice of you to preserve my modesty, but I’ve been having regular clothes fittings since birth.” She glanced down at her bareness. “Nothing too shocking here, either.”

“Since I hardly have any, I will happily trade breasts with you any day,” Lark said after giving her an impersonal glance. “Now, let’s start there. ”

In no time the seamstress had her measurements. From the clothing the maids had left, she selected a different gown made of what appeared to be golden linen.

“It’s a bit short, but it will fit you a little better in the chest and hips,” she said as she helped Nicole put it on. “Our cobbler will make you a pair of boots, but until then you’ll have to wear the cloth slippers I brought.” She stepped behind her to tighten and tie the laces.

“May I borrow some ribbon for my hair?” Nicole asked her.

“I brought you a handful, plus a comb,” Lark said. “The clothes will take more time. I’ve been training some of the girls from the village to help me, but it will still take about a week to make you a decent starter wardrobe.”

Although the seamstress seemed to be kind, she also gave Nicole some narrow looks, as if she were trying to judge her for some reason.

“Don’t bother making an entire wardrobe for me. I won’t be here.” The moment she said that Nicole knew it had been a mistake to reveal her plans, so she quickly added, “What I mean is, I can’t impose on the clan’s hospitality for that long.”

The seamstress came around and said, “You think this is all fake, don’t you? That this is something else, like a hidden camera show or…” She stopped and shook her head. “Valerie said you’ve been unbelievably polite and cooperative. Do you think we mean to hurt you?”

Something in her wanted to trust Lark, but that could be part of their plan. “I hope not. If I’ve actually travelled through time, then you should be able to send me back.”

“We don’t have any way to do that, although the druids that live on the mainland might.” The seamstress’s expression grew uneasy. “The four of us who came before you fell in love with our guys, so we chose to stay here and fight with them against the enchantress and her shifters. You don’t have to do that, of course, but you still have an obligation to the clan.”

People to whom she owed nothing loved to tell her that. “Do I?”

“Lady Joana’s ring saved you from drowning,” the other girl said. “In exchange for that you were brought here to help the MacMar with their battle against an evil enchantress named Derdrui. I know how ridiculous it sounds, but it’s a real situation, not a movie.”

She would have to play along, Nicole decided. “Oh, yes, Duncan told me the entire story. Please understand, I’m grateful. I just can’t see how I can help the clan. Aside from the fact that I’m weak and scared, I don’t believe in fighting for any reason.”

“Well, then you definitely should speak to the laird about leaving Caladh.” The petite redhead sounded disappointed now. “In the meantime, I’ll bring you some more gowns and what passes as lingerie for us here. Basically tap pants and chemises, but I can make you some panties and bras if you’d prefer those. They come with ties, is all.” She began gathering up her measuring ribbons, and then hissed in a breath. “Ouch.”

Nicole saw the sliver of charcoal sticking in her thumb, and took hold of her wrist before she gently tugged it out. “There.”

The seamstress eyed her. “Thanks, but what do you want from me?”

That seemed like a strange question to ask. “Nothing at all. You don’t have to make any clothes for me if you don’t wish to.” At that moment a sharp pain stabbed her in her thumb, in the exact same spot Lark had been hurt.

“Okay.” The seamstress used a piece of cloth from the basket to wipe the blood and charcoal from her thumb. “That’s strange. It doesn’t hurt anymore, and the hole is gone.”

“I hate splinters.” She gave her a sympathetic smile as she tucked her throbbing hand behind her back and walked her to the door. “Thanks for your help with the clothes.”

“No problem.” The seamstress frowned at a tattooed man standing outside in the passage. “Ah, this is Chieftain Shaw MacMar, the laird’s second in command.” To him she said, “Did you need something, Chieftain?”

“Connal wishes speak with Mistress Fairley.” His gray eyes shifted to Nicole, and gave her a very thorough once-over before he added, “Our lord wishes me escort the lady to the laird’s chamber.”

“May I put on some slippers first?” When he nodded Nicole withdrew into the room to put on the thin cloth shoes, tie back her hair, and think quickly. By the time she returned to the chieftain she had composed herself. “See you later, then, Lark. Lead the way, Chieftain.”

Walking beside the big man made Nicole curious about his black tattoos, which covered one arm and peeked out from his chest through the loosened laces of his tunic. Although men usually liked talking to her, she sensed that it would not be a good idea to ask him about them. That left talking about herself, which she wouldn’t do, or keeping quiet.

“Slavers captured me as a lad,” Shaw said, making her flinch. “They inked my hide so a Pritani demon spirit might possess and dwell in me. The dark beast inside me desires naught but butchering all that cross my path except my kin.”

“Really.” Wondering if this was more of the same fairytale, Nicole kept her expression neutral. “Does your demonic spirit have a name?”

“Yes, but my lady claims that sounds like a fish. She calls the damned thing Buster.” At that moment a towering blonde intercepted them, her lanky body swathed in damp linen, a rumpled skirt and what appeared to be a scarlet red lifeguard’s one-piece swimsuit. Shaw looked at her as if he’d never seen any woman as beautiful. “Here ’tis my love now.”

“Love you, too, my man. You’re the new girl?” As soon as she nodded the other woman grabbed her and gave her an enthusiastic hug. “Hi, hi, hi. I’m Julianne, Shaw’s better half.”

“Nicole Fairley. It’s nice to meet you.” She drew back and looked up, bemused by how friendly the tall woman was compared to everyone else. The contrasts between the dark, menacing chieftain and his sunny, gorgeous lady also made them seem like an unlikely couple.

“I know, that was over the top. My brain doesn’t work like yours, so I do lots of impulsive things. I also talk a little weird.” Julianne turned her bright smile on Shaw. “Caroline and I are going to patrol the bay now. You shouldn’t scare the new girl with the Big Bad, it’s her first day on the island.” She leaned in and kissed him quickly, and then she said to Nicole, “My man won’t hurt you. Just wait and chill, and you’ll settle in all dank.”

Her modern slang combined with her happy personality did put Nicole more at ease. “Thank you.”

After the lifeguard departed Shaw grinned, making his handsome features take on the glow of happiness.

“She’s a wonder, my woman.” His brows drew together as he looked at her. “Dinnae regard Julianne as if she’s addled. An immortal kept her in the forest world as a bairn, and she didnae age nor learn as she might in the mortal realm. Her limits dinnae make her stupit.”

“I understand, Chieftain.” She liked him better for defending his unusual girlfriend.

Shaw led Nicole downstairs, passing through halls with guards stationed at every entry and exit. The men all had swords and spears, and looked ready to use them, although they simply smiled or nodded at her. Shaw finally led her into a big, sparsely-furnished chamber. There Connal stood beside a large table with a man who looked like him and Shaw. When they saw her they both stiffened, and the shorter man’s eyes narrowed as he studied her from head to toe .

Neither one of them like me, but that guy might actually hate me, Nicole thought. A few men in the past had reacted the same way upon meeting her, and it was usually for the same reason. That or he just didn’t like her. Either way, she should tread carefully around him.

“Mistress Fairley.” Connal politely bowed to her before gesturing to the other man. “My seneschal, Fletcher. He’s wed to our seamstress.”

So he was Lark’s husband. Hopefully he gets over his grudge or there goes my new wardrobe.

“Good morning. I met your wife earlier, Seneschal.” She curtseyed to them both. “The chieftain said you needed to speak with me?”

“We wished ask you some questions,” the laird said, and gestured for her to sit down at the table. When she did, he and Fletcher joined her, but Shaw remained standing by the doors. “You came from the twenty-first century?”

“Yes.” As she spoke she saw Fletcher tense. “I’d also like to return as soon as possible. How may I help you and your clan?”

“I’m gratified you’re willing,” Connal told her. “We dinnae ken how you may serve the MacMar. ’Twill likely be revealed once your boon manifests.” At the blank look she gave him he added, “My first wife’s ring bestowed a power on you while saving you and bringing you here. Valerie reads the mind of anyone she touches.”

In a panic Nicole thought back quickly, relaxing only when she remembered the other woman hadn’t touched her. “What about your wife, Seneschal?”

“Lark may lift or move anything with but a thought,” Fletcher said.

From the way they were both watching her they were expecting her to confess to having something similar. “I’m sorry, I don’t have any power. Maybe I didn’t receive a boon.”

“Dinnae fret, Mistress,” Connal said, his tone softening. “’Twill soon make itself obvious, I reckon. We wish ken more about you and your life in the future, if you’d tell us.”

“All right.” She wondered why he’d need that information, but played along, editing the details as she spoke. “I’m twenty-four, single, and live in Massachusetts. I have a degree in economics, and I specialize in financial management. I consult with a number of non-profits about ways to better fund their endeavors.”

Fletcher scowled. “Do you any true work?”

“As a matter of fact, I do.” She gave him the warm, friendly smile she reserved for people who aggravated her the most. “Would you like me to better explain the details of what I do? The non- profit industry in my time can be quite complex, especially in regard to endowments, trusts and estate planning, so you may not understand.”

“Please dinnae take offense, Mistress,” the laird said quickly. “’Tis only that we wish understand why the ring chose you, and what power it’s bestowed on you.”

“It was probably a mistake and, as I’ve said, I don’t have any power.” She stood up. “May I go now?”

“I’ll escort the lady downstairs,” Shaw said, joining them. To Nicole he said, “’Tis time for the morning meal.”

She sensed an ally in the chieftain, something she definitely couldn’t expect from the other two men. “That would be delightful, thank you.”

Duncan stayed in the shadows as Shaw brought Nicole out of the laird’s chamber. She held herself rigidly, as if she were angry. Once they were out of sight he slipped inside, where he saw Fletcher arguing with Connal.

“Mayhap she stole the ring from the intended,” the seneschal was saying. “For she serves no purpose—and admitted as much herself. I dinnae trust the wench. ’Tis something about her—from the moment she stepped foot in here she set my teeth a-grinding.”

The laird shook his head. “No one but the clan and our vassals should recognize my wife’s ring, Brother. The lady spoke truth.” He frowned as he noticed Duncan. “What do you here, Healer?”

“I’ve been listening outside.” He regarded the seneschal. “’Tis obvious you dinnae care for our new guest, Fletch, but I expected you should treat her with some courtesy, my lord.”

Connal started to reply, and then shook his head.

“You’ve no’ our concerns,” Fletcher said at last, his expression shuttered. “All you do, ’tis useless against our enemies.”

He always knew the seneschal considered his calling more befitting a mortal, but this time he’d gone too far.

“I didnae prove useless that summer when raiders riddled you with arrows, as I recall,” Duncan told him. “Cutting all of them from your flesh took nigh on a day and night, and then I tended you through the fever brought on by the poison-dipped arrowheads.”

“Och, but shall you prevent Mistress Fairley from seducing Merrick’s warriors?” the seneschal countered. “As she’s done with you. Mayhap she means enslave every man. ”

Duncan bunched his fists. “Say that again.”

“Enough,” the laird said, stepping between them. “We shallnae pass judgment on the lady. We need ken more of her boon. As for Duncan, he’s just as useful as you, brother.”

“As you say, my lord. Only how shall he heal the dead? For ’tis how the clan shall end if we dinnae protect ourselves and Caladh.” With a shallow bow to Connal, Fletcher stalked out of the chamber.

“I vow, his temper shall prove the end of him,” Duncan muttered.

“’Tis oft tested of late.” Connal regarded him. “You shouldnae blame him for wishing keep safe the clan and our vassals. Nor can I fault him for suspecting Mistress Fairley. She’s no’ like the other ladies.”

“You’re quick in judging her, my lord—but why?” Duncan demanded. “She’s done naught since she came but tolerate us and all we’ve told her. As for me, I do all I can for the clan and our vassals, yet Fletcher deems my efforts worthless. Ken you how that sets with me?”

Connal nodded. “I shall speak again with Fletcher and, when his head cools, doubtless he shall offer his apologies. Only remember that danger swells ever larger by the day. ’Tis why we’re all on edge. Now, when you first encountered Mistress Fairley last night, didnae she show any sign of the boon the ring bestowed on her?”

He could relate how the lady’s touch had made his own mortal weakness vanish, but that was not what the laird wanted to know. “No, I reckon the boon, ’tisnae manifested in her as yet. Tell me more of your concerns with the lady.”

“Cait Sith may take on the shape and memories of any mortal they slay,” Connal said slowly. “The enchantress, she could teach them some of her Fae spells as well, for they’re half-Therion. ’Tis possible they killed the real Nicole Fairley so a shifter might take her place.”

“She’s no’ a shape-shifter, and she cannae wield magic,” Duncan said flatly.

“The Cait Sith who came and posed as a castaway worked for weeks in the stronghold as a scullery. None of us ever suspected the lad,” the laird countered.

“She swam ashore from the center of the bay.” As Connal frowned he pointed toward the bay. “The shifters cannae abide sea water, nor do they swim. I reckon ’tis their mortal weakness.” When the laird said nothing he demanded, “Shall we take and try drown her in a tide pool, as do the fools on the mainland with their witch tests? ”

“If she’s a hybrid, she wouldnae drown,” Connal countered,

He wondered if Fletcher had planted that suspicion because of his own dislike of Nicole. “Then tell me why didnae she tear out my throat when she found me in the dunes.”

“I cannae.” His shoulders slumped, and he dragged a hand through his hair. “I shall ask Valerie if she may read her mind. If she’s a shifter, she cannae hide such from my lady wife.”

Unable to stand in the laird’s presence another moment, Duncan walked out of the chamber. He knew he should return to the infirmary and wait until his temper subsided, but worry over Nicole made him head for the great hall. Once there, he looked around the tables until he saw Shaw sitting with the lady and a group of patrollers; the other women from the future had not yet arrived for the morning meal. Nicole had braided back her apricot hair and tied it with a ribbon, and wore a pretty gown, but she looked pale. As he approached the table he saw the men all offering the lady different foods from their own trenchers.

“I appreciate you sharing, gentlemen, but I really can’t eat that much.” She glanced up as she noticed him standing beside her, and her eyes darkened. “Good morning, Healer MacMar. ”

The scent of her rolled over him like a swath of spring air in a garden, and for a moment he thought he would drag her to her feet and kiss her breathless. “My lady.”

Shaw stood. “Take my seat, Duncan. I wish join my wife and Nyall’s lady on patrol.”

“My thanks, Chieftain.” He sat down, and nodded to a maid, who served him a bowl of the vegetable pottage he preferred. “You rise early, Mistress.”

“I didn’t sleep much,” she said, rubbing the back of her neck as if it pained her. “After breakfast I should probably go and take a nap, or I’ll be nodding off all day.”

Why hadn’t she slept? He glanced down and saw the way she had clenched her fist in her lap, her knuckles white. She was trying to hide her fear, more so than she had last night.

In a strange fashion her behavior reassured him. If she had been a Cait Sith or a hybrid, she never would have betrayed her distress like this.

“Come and take refuge in the infirmary after your meal,” he suggested, and gently covered her fist with his hand.

As before, touching her gave him a continuous surge of deep, abiding pleasure, and with it a slight ache in his neck. He certainly had no compulsion to obey her. Connal and Fletcher were completely wrong about Nicole, and he would prove it.

“That’s kind of you to offer.” Nicole didn’t try to avoid his touch, and after a few moments her hand relaxed under his. “I don’t want to get in your way.”

“I shall cover you with a blanket, and tell no one you slumber there.” Looking into her gleaming eyes made him wish he could pick her up and carry her off to his own chamber, so that she might sleep in his arms. “You’re safe with me, my lady.”

Nicole nodded with another of her practiced smiles, and then began to eat a berry-covered oat cake. The morning brew the maids had served, a mild herbal blend sweetened with apple cider, was one that would not keep her awake, Duncan knew. He noticed that she hadn’t touched the meat on her plate, but she did give his pottage several glances.

He offered her a spoonful. “’Tis made with barley, herbs, carrots, onions and parsnips.”

Nicole hesitated before she tasted it. “Oh, it’s delicious.” She gave him a hopeful look. “May I have a bowl of that, too?”

A few moments later she was happily eating her own portion, and dipping the oatcakes into the broth as well. Pleased that she liked the same fare he ate every morning, he watched her dine, as did the patrollers seated with them. Lady Valerie passed by their table, and nodded to Duncan as she eyed Nicole, but when he shook his head at her she didn’t linger. At the laird’s table she sat down with Lark, some of the senior garrison chieftains and Nyall, who gave him a dour look but then inclined his head.

The laird heeded my assurances , he thought, relieved now. I need only convince Fletcher so he shall leave the lady alone.

Jamma came into the hall carrying a heavily-laden serving platter, the edge of which she rested atop her burgeoning belly. She had not told anyone she had become pregnant, and her skirts had hidden her condition until a few days past. After she handed it over to one of the maids she approached Duncan, giving Nicole an uneasy look.

“’Tis something amiss?” he asked the kitchen maid.

“No, Healer, I’m well. I found something while I went walking yesterday.” Jamma pulled a chain from her apron pocket, from which dangled the red stone pendant. “Didnae Lady Julianne give you the same bauble some weeks past?”

“That one is mine,” Nicole said, taking it from her before he could reply and fastening it around her throat .

“Och, ’tis another, then.” The kitchen maid bobbed, smiled and left.

Once they finished the meal Nicole cleared her own dishes and his, carrying them over to the cart the maids used for collecting them. She asked if they needed help with washing, which they refused with flattered smiles, and then turned to Duncan.

“If you really don’t mind,” she said, looking tired now, “I’d like to take that nap now, Healer.”

“Come with me.” He held out his arm for her hand, and then escorted her from the hall.

Along the way Duncan noticed other, subtle changes in Nicole that hadn’t been evident during the meal. She appeared worried, and much more on edge now. Any unexpected sound caused her to flinch. When a maid dropped a bucket beside a hearth in one of the chambers, the noise made Nicole jump and then freeze for a moment. Each time they passed a guard her gaze went to the man’s weapons, and then to the nearest doorway.

“’Twas difficult, the first days our ladies spent at Dun Ard,” he mentioned to her. “Our worlds, they’re very different. ’Tis no’ much that shall seem familiar, my lady.”

“I don’t mind the surroundings as much as the people I don’t know,” she said in a low voice. “I’ve never had to live with strangers, and I’m accustomed to a very different lifestyle.”

She spoke as if she’d been the daughter of a king, Duncan thought. He knew so little about her time, he had no inkling of how she might have lived.

“It’s a very lonely way to live,” Nicole said, as if she heard his thoughts. “My father was very strict with me.”

He stopped and opened the door to the infirmary, and then went to light the lamps and build a fire. Nicole wandered around, idly examining his shelves and cabinets.

“What do you keep in here?” She asked, giving the nulling cabinet a wary look.

“My sire created Caladh with his magic, and the island attracts Fae objects of power. Things from the mortal realm that have been enchanted or exposed to magic sometimes wash ashore here. I store what we find in that cabinet, as it renders them harmless.” He didn’t want to scare her by showing her his collection, so he took a clean blanket from his linens trunk and gestured to the pallet. “Come and rest, lass.”

“I’m not sure I can fall asleep.” She looked defeated now. “You don’t happen to have anything that can help me, do you?”

“These I use when I wish sleep.” Duncan took down a packet of herbs and dropped a pinch into a mug before adding a little water to them. “’Twill be a little bitter, but I’ve no brew to mask the taste.”

“Thank you.” Nicole came over and drank the infusion, making a face after she finished it before she went over and climbed onto the narrow bed.

“Your herbs work very fast.” She smiled drowsily up at him as he draped her with the soft woolen blanket. “Thank you, Healer.”

He brushed some hair back from her brow. “Sleep.”

Once she closed her eyes Duncan left her, and busied himself adding some newly-dried heather blooms to a crock where he stored them. Yet try as he might, he couldn’t keep his gaze from straying to Nicole, or imagining her changing shape to become one of Derdrui’s half-Fae shifters. He could test her now while she slept to assure she was mortal, but that seemed to him as underhanded as the laird’s proposal to have his wife read her thoughts.

Why should Lady Joana’s ring seek out an enemy?

Duncan had never looked closely at the ring Nicole wore, so he went to the pallet, tugging back the blanket until he exposed her hands. She held them tucked around her waist, and when he tried to ease her right hand into view she turned suddenly toward him, and slipped her arms around his neck .

The unexpected movement brought Duncan’s face so close to hers their noses nearly bumped. This close he could see the faint blue traces of the veins under her delicate skin, and the fine fringe of apricot lashes meshed together along her eyelids. Although he tried to remain absolutely still, the warmth and softness of her sank into him, filling him again with the carnal bliss he’d never before known.

No mortal had ever inspired such passion in him.

His gaze dropped to her breast, where lay the red stone leaf pendant that Jamma had given to her. Its twin lay locked inside his cabinet of Fae curiosities—or was it the same one? Could the same necklace come back through time to join itself?

Carefully he removed himself from her hold and went to the cabinet, opening the locking mechanism before he opened the doors. The niche where he had placed the pendant Julianne had found stood empty now. Since no one else knew how to open his cabinet, he guessed it had vanished as soon as Jamma had found the pendant Nicole had apparently brought back in time with her.

He glanced at the sleeping woman as he locked the doors again, and then went and knelt down by the pallet. When he lifted the pendant and held it on his palm, the surface remained a blank, glossy red. Whatever it had been created to do, it seemed harmless, and still he wanted to tug it from her neck and lock it away so there could be no chance she’d be harmed.

She’s no mine. Slowly he rose and went to his work table. I cannae keep thinking of her thus.