The Highlander’s Tempting Touch

Chapter 23

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

A listair returned to the castle in time for the noon meal. His mood had improved as he rode, and though he still felt uneasy about several matters – Niamh and Fergus MacTavish being the top of the list – at least he’d had a moment to himself to think.

Fergus wasn’t known for being patient. He’d make a move sooner or later, one that Alistair could counter with appropriate force. In the meantime, if he was using children to do his bidding, then Alistair would simply have to ensure the children who inhabited the castle knew better, and knew to keep an eye on any new ‘playmates’ they might encounter.

As for Niamh, all he could do was let matters unfold as they would. Hopefully, Ewan would return with good news from Sorcha.

Alistair grimaced to himself. Sorcha’s skills were rare and powerful, an asset to the clan, but it was no secret that she bore him a grudge. And a witch’s grudge was a powerful thing, not to be trifled with.

Ewan was waiting at the doors to the Great Hall when he entered the castle. Alistair waved his brother aside to a receiving room just off the main hall. “What did she say?”

“I spoke tae her about yer wedding and asked if she’d undae the curse fer yer bride’s sake, but she refused. ‘Tis still in full force, and naething anyone says is likely tae convince her tae change her mind.” Ewan sighed. “She said she’d watch fer any warning signs o’ what MacTavish intends and send word if she learns aught. But that’s all the help she’ll give, and only because she hates MacTavish almost as much as she hates ye.”

Alistair grimaced. “I ken. It cannae be helped, and at least I was already mindful o’ the curse.” He sighed. “Did she say aught else?”

Ewan shook his head. “Naething. Though when I spoke o’ the wedding night, she laughed at me. Somethin’ amused her, though she’d nae tell me what it was that was so funny.” A sly look appeared on Ewan’s face. “So tell me braither, did something happen? Was yer bonnie bride so entrancing that ye had trouble performing? Is that what had ye in such a foul mood this morn?”

Alistair restrained the urge to cuff his brother the way he would have when they were boys. “I’m nae goin’ tae answer that. But ye ken I’ve never had a problem with performing any o’ me duties.”

“If ye say so.” Ewan smirked at him. “I just thought it might explain why ye were in such a hurry to leave earlier. I thought ye might have needed tae find yer composure after struggling with… personal issues.”

His brother was right, if not in the way he thought. Still, Alistair wasn’t about to tell him so. He settled for punching his brother on the shoulder with a scowl. “Enough o’ that. I’ve work tae be doin’, and so dae ye. Tell the cooks tae send me meal up tae me study.”

He wasn’t in the mood to join the rest of the clan in the Great Hall, especially if Ewan was going to spend the entire meal smirking at him.

At least Sorcha hadn’t revealed the truth. He had no doubt the witch knew what had really happened, or at least, that they hadn’t really consummated the marriage yet. Her powers would make it easy for her to discern such things. For whatever reason, she’d chosen not to tell Ewan, and he was grateful for small mercies.

The gratitude lasted until he reached his study, to find Niamh waiting for him, her eyes wide and full of fear. “What is it?”

“What did he mean?”

Alistair stared at her. “What did who mean?”

Niamh stepped closer. “What did Ewan mean, when he said the curse is in full force?”

Niamh hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. She’d seen Ewan and Alistair going aside as she made her way to the Hall for the noon meal, and she’d been curious.

What she’d heard made her heart race. A curse? Who was cursed? What sort of curse? And what did it have to do with her? It clearly involved her in some way, since Ewan had mentioned asking the witch to lift it for her sake.

Worse to her mind was the fact that Alistair was aware of the curse and must have been for some time. How long, she didn’t know, but he’d said he was ‘already mindful’ of it, so the curse wasn’t something that had happened recently.

Now that she knew the curse existed, she couldn’t help confronting Alistair about it, outside his study. “Alistair?”

“Nae here.” Alistair opened the door to the study and ushered her inside, to shut the door behind her. “What did ye hear?”

“Only what Ewan said tae ye, just now. I was coming tae eat, and I heard yer voices. I was going tae knock, but… I heard what ye were saying, and…” She faltered.

“I understand what happened well enough.” He scowled at her, then sighed and looked away. “I didnae want ye tae worry about it. But aye, I’m cursed.”

“What sort o’ curse?”

“’Tis naething ye need to tae worry about.” He shook his head. “I have it under control, and I ken what tae dae tae avoid bringing it tae pass.”

“But… what Ewan said… daes it have something tae dae with me?” She stepped closer. “How did ye get cursed? Why?”

“It daesnae matter. And ‘tis naething ye need tae worry about, as I said.” He shook his head again. “Dinnae ask me any more about that matter. ‘Tis nae something I wish tae speak o’ any further.”

Niamh opened her mouth to argue, but Alistair finally turned to look at her, and the misery in his expression hit her like a blow. Grief, anguish, a hurt so deep it cut to the bone, all overlaid with a weariness that seemed like it would crush anyone else.

Whatever the curse was, however and whyever he had been cursed, it was clearly a painful memory. Something terrible had happened to him, and the wound was still raw.

Perhaps it had something to do with the woman he’d briefly mentioned in their first meeting. She recalled that he’d worn a similar expression when she’d teased him about the ring he’d worn at his throat.

She changed her mind. “All right. I’ll nae press ye further.”

A knock on the door announced the arrival of a maid bearing lunch. Niamh almost giggled to see the slices of pork roast on the plate. Alistair caught her eye and, after a moment, a reluctant grin tugged at one corner of his mouth. “Seems there’s enough fer two, if ye’d like tae join me.”

Niamh nodded and settled at the table across from him, watching as he poured them both small beers and distributed the food evenly between them.

She couldn’t deny that she was still curious about whatever had happened to cause Alistair to be cursed. However, she wasn’t going to ask him for further explanations. Not when it clearly pained him to think of it, and when there was another source of information, apparently close at hand.

She recalled that Alistair had mentioned sending Ewan to the witch in the morning. If he’d already returned, then it was a short journey. Which meant it was possible for her to visit the witch herself and seek the answers on her own. She didn’t need to wound Alistair by demanding the answers he wasn’t ready to give.

Niamh’s willingness to leave the matter of the curse alone was more of a relief than Alistair had expected. He’d thought they might have an awkward, silent lunch, but instead, as soon as the food was divided and both of them were at the table, Niamh spoke. “Dae ye think the cook noticed that the pig had been bled?”

“Likely. ‘Tis me hope he thought twas one o’ the scullery maids, trying tae be helpful. Or assumed it was Catriona, doing her tests fer poison.”

Alistair bit into the pork with a slight feeling of trepidation. He trusted Catriona to be careful, but knowing the pig had been poisoned made him slightly nervous all the same. However, the meat was tender and flavorful, dripping juices that he soon found himself sopping up with the bread on his plate and devouring ravenously.

“Yer cook makes a delicious pork roast. Is his stewed meat as good?”

Alistair smiled. “His stewed meat is excellent. I wasnae entirely lying when I said I had a cravin’ fer it. The cook is a braw hand with stews and stewed meats and pottage o’ all kinds, and we eat well in late fall and winter, nae matter what is in the larders.”

“And the loss o’ a pig willnae hurt ye?”

Alistair shook his head. “We’ve enough tae get through the winter, unless there’s a true disaster. And Ewan will have brought one that we could afford tae lose.” He took another bite of his meal. “Tis almost time fer doin’ the winter slaughterin’ and smokin’, in any case.”

“Ye have a time fer that?” Niamh’s eyes brightened with curiosity. “Me faither always insisted on only culling what was needed, when ‘twas needed.”

“Here in the Highlands, snows and winds will steal yer heat and yer breath in the middle o’ winter. ‘Tis part o’ the Samhain preparations and celebrations tae gather in all we’ll need, so much as we’re able, so fewer folk will have tae brave the bitter cold.” He paused. “There’s also offerings tae the dead, come Samhain’s eve, fer luck and love and safe passage. Everyone has someone they give a gift tae, be it a lit candle, or some meat or fruit. And gifts are given between kinfolk, tae symbolize the ties that bind us taegether, and offer hope fer greater ties in the coming year.”

“I look forward tae learning all about it.” Niamh smiled.

“The women o’ the castle will show ye whatever ye need tae ken. Catriona can help introduce ye, and show ye where different preparations are made.” Alistair drank his beer and refilled his cup, then offered her the pitcher. Niamh shook her head.

“What happens after lunch?”

Alistair scowled. “After lunch, I begin workin’ tae find whoever sent that poisoned sweet tae ye, and whoever gave it tae ye. Ye said it was a child?”

“Aye. A little girl.” Niamh nodded, but her eyes were now troubled - a fair match to his own feelings.

“Ye said dark hair, lighter eyes, tanned skin, and nae so old. Can ye guess how many years she had? Or tell me aught else about her?”

Niamh frowned, then closed her eyes, obviously making an effort to recall details. “She was slight, small - I wouldnae put her past six or seven years o’ age. Quiet. Her clothing wasnae anything special, what I saw o’ it. Clean, mayhap slightly faded, but naething that stood out. ‘Twasnae overly worn or stained.”

She opened her eyes and gazed at him with distress in her features. “I’m sorry. I cannae recall much more. She was cloaked, and kept her gaze lowered.”

“’Tis all right. That’s enough tae begin with.” Alistair reached across to clasp her hand, very gently, for a brief moment. “Finish yer lunch. And then find some way tae tak’ yer mind off things. Whatever ye wish tae dae.”

The rest of the meal was quiet, and afterward, Alistair excused himself, leaving Niamh sitting by the fire, watching the flames. He found the serving woman who sometimes served as a child minder during feasts, and drew her aside. “I want ye tae speak tae the maithers and faithers o’ every parent ye ken, castle and village alike. Have every child between four winters and fourteen brought tae the gardens, including the page boys. I want them gathered within the candle-mark, whatever it takes.”

“Yes me laird.” The woman hurried away, and Alistair took a deep breath, before making his way to the gardens. He intended to be there to speak with the children as they arrived, so he could question each one individually.

Niamh had said the mysterious child was a girl, but he knew boys sometimes had high soft voices, before they experienced their first growth of manhood, and plenty of boys wore their hair long. They usually had it bound back, but that didn’t mean they would have if they were practicing deception. It was a slim chance, and unlikely, but he was unwilling to leave any avenue of investigation untouched.

Even if the child wasn’t one of the castle or village children, there was a chance that one or more of the younglings would have seen or spoken to the child. Children tended to congregate together during feasts and festivals. A child separate from the rest would have drawn more attention than a strange child lingering on the edge of the crowd of other youngsters.

The first of the castle youngsters appeared. Jared, a young squire of only twelve years, his eyes wide as he approached. “Me laird? I was told ye wanted tae speak tae me.”

“Aye. I want tae ken if there’s aught ye can tell me about what happened at the feast.” He saw panic start in the boy’s eyes and raised a hand. “Dinnae fret, I’m nae accusing ye o’ aught. But there’s a chance ye might have seen the child who gave Lady Niamh the sweet, and any information can be helpful.”

Jared nodded, his expression transforming from frightened to determined within a breath. “I’ll dae me best, me laird. I was serving the Elders for most o’ the feast, but I’ll tell ye all I can.”

“All right then lad, start by telling me everything ye can remember about that night.”

Niamh wasn’t sure how long she spent staring at the fire after Alistair left. Her thoughts were all in a muddle, questions about the curse mingled with concerns about her role in the castle and her ability to perform the duties of the Lady MacDuff.

I cannae just sit here and dae naething. If I want tae be a proper Lady MacDuff, I need tae make the effort tae learn the things I dinnae ken.

Resolved to seek out Catriona and ask some more questions, Niamh stood and left the study. She collected her cloak and stepped out into the cool air of an autumn midafternoon. She was partway across the courtyard when the chatter of childish voices caught her attention. Curious, she turned her steps toward the garden to see what was going on.

Alistair sat on a bench, surrounded by children of varying ages.None of them looked like the little girl she’d seen but all of them were watching the laird of Clan MacDuff with solemn expressions. One of them, a slim, sturdy-looking lass who appeared to be about ten years old, was speaking to him while the others murmured every now and then. Niamh slipped closer, unseen by the group.

“... ye dinnae recall seeing her again?” Alistair’s voice was quiet, and surprisingly gentle for such a gruff warrior.

“Nay. I thought…” The girl hiccupped. “I thought she was from a far village.” A soft sniffle. “She came late… I think…”

“’Tis all right.” Alistair put a hand on her shoulder and drew her in to lean against him. “Ye couldnae have kent. Nae any o’ ye could have. But everything ye can tell me will help tae prevent trouble the next time.”

He was so kind, so warm. Watching him put the children at ease and soothe the little girl’s unhappiness made Niamh’s heart flutter. He reminded her of her father, years ago when she was a little girl and he would sit down and talk with her for a candle-mark or two.

Alistair was clearly good with children, even those that weren’t his own. It made her wonder what he would be like with a son or a daughter. If the scene before her was anything to go by, then he would be stern, but kind. Commanding, but warm. Affectionate and able to step back and administer discipline as needed.

Alistair would be an excellent father - but she couldn’t give him children. As long as he was married to her, he would never have a chance to hold and raise a child of his own flesh and blood.

Niamh shivered. There was a part of her that regretted that thought - regretted that she might not be able to give Alistair the heirs he needed, or children of his own. But even simply that thought, regretful as it was, brought back her nightmares and made her feel sick inside.

Even if she was willing to try, giving birth would only kill her, and possibly the babe as well. She couldn’t risk it, not for Alistair or anyone else, not even for the sake of the clan. It was just too terrifying a prospect, and too dangerous. She felt ashamed by it, but it was true.

Her eyes drifted to her left hand, where the ring Alistair had given her circled her finger. The ring he had given her as a promise, to not demand more than she could give. His gift to ward away her fears and her nightmares.

Alistair understood her reluctance, and he was kind enough not to try and force the issue. Her new husband was kind and generous, despite what it might cost him. She twisted the ring around her finger absently, eyes on Alistair as he continued to talk to the children.

Despite how they’d first met, and what she’d thought of him when they left her father’s castle, Alistair was a good man, and a good laird. Niamh bit her lip, and made herself a silent promise as she slipped away, back inside the castle.

Somehow, she would find a way to be a good wife, and a good lady.