To Bewitch a Highlander (Isle of Mull #1)

Chapter Ten

“ W here have ye been?” Nathair hissed as Ronan took his seat in the great hall. He could feel the penetrating stares of the other council members.

It was a question Ronan was accustomed to hearing as of late. For the past few weeks, he had slipped away every chance he could to visit Shoney, and, with each passing day, demand on both fronts grew. Nathair’s palpable impatience made it nigh impossible to thwart his questions, and Shoney’s disillusionment intensified every time he told her today would not be the day, he took her to Gribun. There was a solution that would appease his father and permit Shoney to enter the village; he just needed a little more time to discover it.

“What have ye to report?” Nathair asked, addressing the room.

Argyle stood. “The tacksmen have given me a full account, and it would seem the cottars have completed the plant. ”

“Thank ye, Argyle,” Nathair said. Then he turned and addressed the elder sitting to Ronan’s left. He was a large fellow, bent with years, with a long flowing beard and sharp, clever eyes.

“Alasdair, what of the rents?”

“They will not have to be raised to ready the clan for war. There is enough in the coffer to buy what is needed, and our stores are strong.”

Nathair nodded. “Good, and there are no disputes to settle, nor is there any news from the king.” He stood, signaling an end to the meeting.

Ronan rose to leave, but a strong hand came to rest on his forearm.

“’Tis interesting what Argyle said about the plant, because the keep’s rows have yet to be ploughed. I believe I asked ye to oversee this task, Ronan.”

“Aye, Father,” Ronan said. “It will be done on the morrow.”

“That I do not doubt, but, Ronan, ye’ve been distracted as of late. Is there some matter of which I am unaware?”

“Nay, Father.”

Nathair stared unspeaking into Ronan’s eyes for several moments. “Be sure there isn’t,” he said as he turned on his heel and left the keep.

WITH BOTH FISTS GRIPPING the reins, Ronan walked backward through the field near the keep, managing the six cattle whose bulk and muscle moved the unwieldy plough through the earth. The ploughman, a cottar named Colin whom Ronan’s father showed particular favor owing to his shrewd mind and boundless energy, steered the plough from the side. Meanwhile, Colin’s lanky son, Ewan, encouraged the animals’ progress with a light switch.

“Ronan,” Colin called. “When yer father asked ye to oversee the plough, I don’t think he meant ye should take it up yerself. My son, Errol, will guide the cattle.”

“One clan, one back,” Ronan gritted as he strained to keep the beasts in check. “The honor found on this field is no different than the honor found on the battlefield.”

What Colin did not know was that Ronan welcomed the distraction and the strain of the plough. His mind battled with his growing depth of feeling for Shoney and his loyalty to family and clan, and all the while, he struggled to find a solution to honor both. Labor alone seemed to keep his thoughts in check. For the first time in his life, he felt helpless, powerless. He was falling in love with Shoney.

Hell, there was no point denying it—he had fallen in love long ago.

Although he did not know it then, from the first moment he saw her practiced hand take aim at his stag, he had given himself to her, body and soul. But she was the last woman under heaven his father or the clan would accept as his wife. Better she be a MacLean or even an English woman, because then at least she would be a Christian. A pagan who walked the land as the Witch of Dervaig would never be accepted or trusted. They would argue she had bewitched him.

And perhaps she had .

“No,” he shook his head, ashamed for doubting her once again.

He pictured her clear, gray eyes and quick laughter. Her candor, unmatched by any maid he had ever known, and her warrior’s spirit combined to create a woman worthy of admiration, yet she was destined to be loathed.

He had hoped to find the answers he sought in toil, but when the final row of earth was turned, he released the plough without resolve. Bringing Shoney to Gribun was still unthinkable. He wiped the sweat from his brow. Without the strain of the plough his anger grew unchecked. Fury filled his body, infusing his bones and organs until he felt comprised of rage.

A match between a pagan outcast and the chieftain’s son was impossible, and the undeniable truth left the taste of bile in his mouth.

He growled as his hands tightened into iron fists.

“A word, Ronan?”

He inhaled, trying to restrain the sickening frenzy swelling outward from the pit of his stomach. He turned to find Aidan standing behind him. His unbearable rage craved a target. He longed to pummel Aidan to the ground. Without release he would burst like a fiery lightning bolt and then dissipate into thin air. But instead of clobbering an innocent friend, he pushed past Aidan without reply. Perhaps the icy spring would cool his ire.

Aidan thankfully had the sense not to follow. Soft green earth and hard stone passed under his feet as he hastened to the spring. The stream of water, which was fed from higher sources reaching as far south as Benmore Mountain, rushed over some rocks and fed a narrow but deep pool and then continued down eventually thinning out and trickling into the ocean.

As he approached the pool, he unbuckled his belt and let his plaid drop to the ground. Then he dove into the frigid depths. Icy fingers smothered the fire that threatened to burn him alive. Calm enveloped him as the chill banished all thoughts from his mind. Numb from head to toe, he floated on the surface and stared into the blue heaven above.

“Ye appear to have put away yer fangs.”

Ronan sighed and without looking over to where he knew his friend stood, he said, “What do ye want, Aidan?”

“Many things actually, but right now there are two which are more pressing than the others.”

Ronan shrugged to the blue sky, refusing to let go of his newfound peace. He may as well let Aidan ramble; the water would muffle his complaints.

“The first is ye, actually. Ye, Ronan, are my problem.”

“How do ye figure that?” Ronan sighed.

“Ye’re hiding something. Don’t bother lying. ‘Tis plain ye are.”

Was a moment’s peace too much to ask for? Ronan lifted his head and looked Aidan hard in the eye. “My life is my own, and if ye value yers at all, ye’ll move on to whatever else plagues ye.”

For a moment, it looked as though Aidan was going to press him further, but either the threat or the futility made him stop .

“Anna has refused to let me touch her until I agree to wed the lass. Can ye imagine me vowing to love only one woman?”

Ronan rested his head back into the water and continued to float. “God forbid ye make an honest woman of one of yer many conquests,” he scoffed, but Aidan missed his sarcasm.

“Exactly, I knew ye would see it my way. Don’t get me wrong, Ronan. I would marry Anna if I could. She’s a fine lass, but I am cursed with this face, which makes me irresistible to the fairer sex. What I would give some days to be someone else.”

“Ye’re pathetic,” Ronan said as he waved his hand to signal an end to their conversation, but then he hesitated.

“Hold, Aidan. What did ye say?”

“I said—what I would give to be someone else.”

“That’s it,” Ronan exclaimed as he hastened from the pool.

“What is it?” Aidan asked.

He ignored the bewildered expression on his friend’s face as he belted his plaid in place. “Many thanks, Aidan. Ye’ve helped me solve a rather difficult problem.”

“I do what I can,” Aidan chuckled, but as Ronan started to walk away, Aidan grabbed a hold of his arm.

“I helped ye with a problem, which now obligates ye to share with me its nature,” he said.

“Aidan.”

“Aye, Ronan.”

“I would sooner recommend yer character to my sister,” he said as he walked away.

“Ye don’t have a sister, and if ye did, she would be well acquainted with my character,” Aidan called after him. “I am a patient man and persistent as ye well know. Ye will tell me.”

RONAN COULD NOT STOP smiling as he passed through the village. It was such an obvious solution and so simple; he could not believe he did not think of it straightaway. For once, Aidan’s ramblings proved not to be a complete waste of time. He saw the keep up ahead, and it was all he could do not to break into a run. He did not want to draw attention to himself. He just needed to gather a few effects before he stole away toward the western cliffs where Shoney would be waiting for him.

At long last, he had a plan that would allow her a safe welcome in Gribun. He paused upon entering the courtyard when an image of her glaring at him with willful defiance came unbidden to his mind. He stopped in his tracks and exhaled slowly.

Now all he had to do was convince the most stubborn woman in all of Scotland to see things his way.