To Bewitch a Highlander (Isle of Mull #1)

Chapter Twelve

“ R onan,” Shoney exclaimed as she sprang from her hiding place. “Why did ye hit him?”

“Not even at the onset of battle have I witnessed such fear. He was not his rational self. I just saved him from doing something crazy like picking a fight with me.”

Despite the thin line of blood trickling from the corner of Aidan’s mouth, he looked peaceful.

“Aye, he needs a short rest to calm his nerves,” he said.

“It was me, wasn’t it?” Shoney cried. “Mother of all, I never imagined I scared ye all that much.”

Ronan shrugged. “It has tested my courage more than once to come here, but I am no longer afraid. It will be the same for Aidan when he is able to listen.”

“Ye mean when he is no longer rendered unconscious by the might of yer fist,” she scoffed.

“Precisely,” he grinned.

“Well, the least I can do, since this is all my fault, is clean his wound and help the headache he is sure to have.”

AFTER QUICKLY DRESSING , Shoney strode to her table and set a mixture of dried chamomile and nettle to brew.

“This tea will lessen the pain,” she told Ronan before gathering water, a clean rag, and a salve made with ivy. Kneeling by the invalid, she gazed at him in wonder. So many moons had waned and grown full, and all the while she never had a man in her hut, and now it was overcrowded with the bulk of two large men.

She brushed the black curls away from his face and gasped. He was no stranger, not really.

“’Tis the man from my vision,” she said.

“His name is Aidan. He is my best and oldest friend, a valiant warrior, and ye saved his life, Shoney.”

She smiled at his praise then set to work cleaning Aidan’s face. Dabbing at his chin with the cloth, she soaked up the blood trickling from a small cut inside his mouth where his teeth had bit into his lip. Then she smeared salve on the wound to ease the pain and to keep the swelling down.

She studied his face. He was beautiful.

His lips were full, and his jaw chiseled. His thick coal black lashes were long, fanning across his cheeks. She traced the smooth contours that defined his face as she stared mesmerized. His features were almost too fine for a man, more suited to a woman. But framed by his wild black curls and broad muscled shoulders and neck, his virility was impossible to ignore.

“Ye, too, are not immune to Aidan’s pretty face.”

Her eyes snapped toward Ronan, and she blushed, realizing he had caught her admiring another man .

“He is beautiful but too feminine for my tastes. I much prefer yer rugged good looks.”

He grinned. “Given I am one of two men ye have now seen up close, I will not let yer compliment go to my head.”

Aidan’s sweeping lashes flickered, grabbing her attention.

“He wakes,” she whispered.

Slowly Aidan’s eyes opened. She gently soothed his brow and murmured gentle assurances that nothing was going to harm him. Then a slight smile curved his lips.

“Shoney,” he whispered. “’Tis ye.”

She jerked back. “Ye know me?”

“Ye were the angel who almost took me to heaven when I nearly died on the moors,” he murmured and winced as his hand flew to his head. “But then Ronan showed up with his ugly mug and scared ye away. Sweet Jesus, my head hurts.”

“Ronan, the tea please,” she said.

Ronan’s hand rested on her shoulder as he leaned over to hand Aidan the steaming mug.

“And there he is now, so I know I’m not dead, because St. Peter would never let that blackguard pass the gates.”

“Hello, Aidan,” Ronan said.

Aidan looked at her and then at Ronan and then back at her. “Who are ye? Where am I?”

His gaze skimmed over her furnishings but settled on her door. She could tell the very instant he knew where he was by the fear flooding his eyes .

“Aidan, I don’t want to have to punch ye again so do not panic,” Ronan implored him.

“I am lying in the hut of the Witch of Dervaig, and ye want me not to panic.” Then he cringed, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Where is she?”

“There is no Witch of Dervaig, Aidan. There is only Shoney.”

Aidan stared at her in disbelief. “Ye live here?”

Shoney nodded, walking to the Witch’s cloak, which she pulled from its peg. She had to expose the Witch for what she really was, nothing more than a clever disguise. Sweeping the folds over her shoulders, she covered her head and assumed the position. Peering out from beneath the hood, she saw terror and revulsion pass over Aidan’s face.

“’Tis only me,” she said as she tugged the cloak off her shoulders. “’Tis I whom ye have seen on the moors and in the forest, but I am no witch.”

“If ye’re not a witch, then how do I know yer face when we’ve not met until now?” he demanded. “How do I have yer name on my lips?”

“Calm down. ‘Tis simple enough to explain. I have visions. I see things in my mind. Sometimes I see that which has already passed or that which has yet to be. Our minds were bound together for an instant. I saw ye bleeding on the moors, and ye felt my comfort. It was my vision, in fact, which led Ronan to ye.”

“Ye have visions, and ye can see ahead to a time that has not yet passed, but ye’re not a witch?” he scoffed.

“I have no magic. ‘Tis a gift.”

“A gift?” he said, his tone mocking.

“Aye, a gift, and might I remind ye ‘tis a gift that saved yer life,” she snapped.

Ronan stepped in front of her, shielding her from his friend. “She is a good woman, Aidan. We have always trusted each other. I need ye to trust me now.” She shivered as his voice grew menacing. “And know this—she is under my protection.”

“How can ye believe she is not the witch? Her story holds no weight. In appearance she is a lass of no more than eighteen years, but the Witch of Dervaig has been haunting our island for more than a century.”

“All of the women who have come before me have worn the cloak to protect themselves from the likes of ye,” she asserted from behind Ronan’s back.

Aidan shook his head, scowling. “And ye believed this farcical tale, Ronan? She is lying. Beautiful enticements meant to blind foolhardy men like ye conceal her hideous face and crooked form. Perhaps, we cannot see what she really is.”

That was the final straw. Shoney charged around Ronan. “And what am I?” she shouted. “Choose ye words wisely, fiend, or ye will feel the sharp end of my blade.”

She moved to grab her weapon when Ronan shoved her behind him once more. “Enough of this woman warrior nonsense, Shoney. Can’t ye see he is five of ye?”

“I don’t care,” she yelled. “He called me a liar.”

“Did she really just challenge me to a battle of arms?” Aidan asked.

Shoney shrieked with fury. How dare he laugh at her, and how dare Ronan scold her as though she were a child? “I’ve had enough Scotsmen for one evening.” She stomped to the door, and she threw it open. “Both of ye get out, now.”

“She is a little hot tempered,” Ronan explained to Aidan.

“I reckon so,” Aidan replied.

“Do ye think if she were the Witch she would stomp around, demanding to fight ye with steel?” Ronan asked.

Shoney could not believe her ears. Ronan mocked her, and they were both ignoring her command to leave. She was going to tell them exactly where they could shove their disregard when she stopped short. Ronan and Aidan’s eyes were locked in silent combat. It was an intense exchange where she guessed Aidan was assessing the truth of Ronan’s words, and Ronan was judging his friend’s faith. Her heart drummed in her ears as their standoff continued, seeming to last for an eternity.

Then without warning, Aidan crossed the room and stood before her. He grabbed her forearms and lifted her in the air until they were face to face. His eyes bore into hers. She knew he looked for some sign of wickedness, but she was furious and would not pretend to be the dulcet lamb just to satisfy his suspicion. She returned his gaze with what she hoped was a menacing scowl, but to her annoyance, Aidan’s lips spread into a wide grin as he put her feet on the ground and turned to Ronan.

He clamped his hand on Ronan’s shoulder. “Ye have at last lost yer heart to love. Not that I can blame him,” he said looking back at Shoney, “On my life, I would swear ye were the comeliest lass on Mull.”

“He should know, Shoney. He is always looking,” Ronan grinned.

“Pardon me for interrupting,” she snapped. “But did either of ye pigheaded louts hear that I just threw ye out of my home?”

The two men smiled at her. Then moving her chairs by the fire, they sat down.

“Mother of all,” she screamed as she stormed outside despite the darkness, slamming the door behind her.

“YE’RE HEADING DOWN an impassable road, Ronan,” Aidan said as his eyes darted around the hut. Ronan could tell his friend was still not at ease in Shoney’s home, but he could not blame him. It took more than one visit for him to stop watching over his shoulder for the legendary witch to appear.

“Difficult, I will admit but not impossible,” Ronan replied.

“I am assuming when she stormed out of here just now swearing to the Mother of all that she did not mean the Blessed Mother,” Aidan said dryly as he casually pointed to the carvings of gods lining the back of Shoney’s table.

“What of it?” Ronan grunted.

“Well, ‘tis just that she may not be a witch—a fact no one will believe—but she is an idolater.”

Ronan did not reply. As far as he was concerned Shoney’s beliefs were none of Aidan’s business.

“Perhaps it is not as bad as I fear,” Aidan began to laugh as he continued. “I mean, ‘tis not as though she paints her body and dances around naked, making offerings to the gods.”

The memory of Shoney with the beautiful blue paintings of animals lining her graceful limbs came to Ronan’s mind. The sweet sound of her song invaded his ears, and the memory of her swaying hips as she moved to the music of her prayer made him ache for her.

“Do ye have a point?” Ronan snapped.

“God’s blood, ye mean she does? Ronan, Father Colin will defame her name to anyone who will listen, which, incidentally, will be everyone. If ye even try to introduce her into the clan, yer father will never forgive ye. I’d wager he and the council would banish ye for certain.”

Ronan refused to hear Aidan’s warning. Shoney was the finest woman, endowed with every quality any maid might hope to possess. Not to mention, she had the will and courage of a warrior. Perhaps she did have a slight temper and no understanding of the limitations of her stature, but all anyone had to do was meet her and they would know her goodness.

“Ronan, ye may choose to ignore me, but ye must know I am right.”

“I will find a way, and I will call on yer aid if need be,” Ronan said. Then he decided it was time to change the subject. “How did ye know I was here?”

“When ye did not return last night, I set out to find ye. Ever since ye started making a habit of disappearing, I have scoured the island for ye. This evening, I realized there was only one place left to look. So, I headed west. I don’t mind admitting I almost pissed myself from fear as I approached her hut, but then I found yer sporran outside.”

“And ye came charging in here to rescue me despite being demented with fear. I’m impressed.”

Aidan grinned. “That isn’t entirely true. I actually stood outside for more than an hour working up the courage to go in after ye.”

“’Tis reassuring to know I can depend on ye regardless of the danger,” Ronan said, shaking his head at his friend. “Now, listen here. Before I go after her and cool her temper, I must know whether or not ye’re still afraid?”

“If that is yer way of asking me if I believe in her, then I will tell ye the truth. I witnessed in her eyes a candor that I seldom see in the fairer sex. I do not doubt she is who she says. What I doubt, however, is whether any good may come from what ye both have started.”

Ronan nodded. He knew there was weight to Aidan’s caution, but he could also not help feeling hopeful. If Aidan could meet Shoney and accept the undeniable truth, then it stood to reason so would his family and in time the whole clan. Perhaps, Shoney’s merit alone was enough to erase past prejudices. Then there would be no need for disguises or deceptions. She could be herself for the first time.

He spotted her straightaway despite the darkness, having ventured only as far as the Dervaig Stones. He walked up behind her, and, moving aside her soft waves, he pressed his lips to her neck. But she jumped away as though dodging a hot poker.

“Keep away from me, Ronan. I’ve had enough of ye for one night.”

He could not help but grin as he said, “I could never have my fill of ye.” Did she blush or was that fury coloring her cheeks? It was too dark to be sure. “I know ye’re angry because I did not allow ye to challenge Aidan to a fight, but ye cannot deny his size and might.”

She whirled around, surprising him as she stalked back to where he stood and stuck her finger in his face. “First, ye put far too much faith in size, which is not surprising since ye’re as big as a giant but being small also has its advantages in combat. Ye should not discount any opponent by appearance lest ye find yerself surprised one day. Second, I am not angry because I did not have yer so-called permission to challenge Aidan. My fury can be blamed on yer treatment of me as though I were yer child and on yer complete disregard for my wishes.”

“Ye wished us take our leave in a most inhospitable manner despite the tenuous peace I was trying to keep. I could also claim injury by yer treatment, but I choose not to focus on the latter half of the evening.” A smile curved his lips. “I would rather remember the earlier moments.”

That time she unmistakably blushed. He slid his arm around her waist and pressed a kiss to her lips.

“Is all forgiven then?” he asked.

“I suppose yer claim to injury is as valid as my own, but all that transpired here tonight changes nothing. I will not relinquish my name or my past.”

“Ye may not have to,” he said as he nodded toward her door. “Ye have another ally.”

“Are ye certain he is trustworthy?”

“I would wager my life on it,” Ronan asserted. “And if Aidan can see the truth, then why not the rest of my family.”

Aidan drew their attention back to the door as it swung open, and he stepped into the night. Striding over to Shoney, he handed her a plump thistle.

“I found this in his sporran,” he smiled. “I am assuming it was meant for ye.”

Shoney brought the flower to her nose and inhaled its scent. She was overwhelmed by the night’s events. She closed her eyes and remembered Ronan’s hands on her skin as her body burned with desire. Her eyes flew open. She cleared her throat hopeful neither man had guessed her thoughts, but when she met Ronan’s gaze, his eyes mirrored her own burgeoning need.

He closed the distance between them and lifted her off the ground and into his arms. She instantly forgot they were not alone as she circled her arms around his neck and placed a slow kiss to his lips.

“I do hate to be the bucket of cold water,” Aidan began. “But we must go, Ronan. We will be missed if not on the training fields by sunrise, and I, at the very least, must get some rest tonight.”

“He’s right, Shoney. I have to go. But watch for my return, for I will be gone mere moments. I have not the will to stay away.”

She buried her face into his neck. Fear bristled up her spine, causing her to shiver as the weight of his absence settled over her, and her vision of being rejected and cast aside flooded her mind.

“Do not fear, Shoney. I will return. I promise ye,” he whispered.

“Do ye know how often I have stood here looking in the direction of Gribun?” she began. “Never at this time, of course—too dark for me out here,” she smiled. “But I have stood, wondering who was out there.” She threaded her fingers into his hair as her lips lingered a breath away from his. “Never did I imagine such a man as ye, Ronan. Thank ye for believing in me. Thank ye for seeing me for who I really am.”

“Since ye did once refer to me and my clan as enemy invaders who destroyed yer people and yer way of life, I believe we have both put old prejudices to rest.” He bowed his head slightly. “So, ye also have my thanks.”

Lifting her high in the air, he spun her around, and she laughed despite her sadness. Then she stood in the night, watching their departure, and remained there even when she could no longer see his outline through the shadowy darkness. She prayed for his swift return and for her heart to be strong. But as she closed the door and stared at her empty quarters, she longed for the sound of his laughter and the feel of his strong hands on her body. Climbing under her blanket, she imagined she slept enclosed in his arms.

When morning came, she busied herself with chores. Having used the last of the ivy salve on Aidan’s lip, she set to replenishing her supply. Then she collected eggs from her chickens’ favorite laying spots, finding twice as many as the day before. Summer had arrived, and she could not contain her excitement. Her life was a flood of possibilities now more than ever. Ronan could be at that very moment making his way to her hut. She glanced down at her stained tunic and grimy hands and decided with that in mind she needed a bath.

At nightfall, she made porridge and baked two bannock loaves over the fire lest Ronan return hungry for supper. Her gaze flitted back and forth between the warm bannock and the closed door. As her stomach growled, she willed the door to open and Ronan to emerge from the night. But the door did not budge. Alone, she ate in silence.

The evening slipped away and finally she surrendered to fatigue. Lying on her pallet, she glanced at the second loaf uneaten on the table, but it mocked her. She scowled, turning away only to be taunted by the closed door. She screeched with frustration. Her patience was running out, but surely, he would come on the morrow.

In the morning, she awoke and scanned her quarters, hoping he waited for her to rise, but her hut was empty. She rose and grabbed the bread off the table and gnawed off a bite as tension seized her body, stiffening her shoulders.

She stopped chewing and closed her eyes and released a slow breath. She could not pass the hours while apprehension rattled her nerves. As she finished the last crusty bite of bread, she decided to try her hand at fishing to occupy her mind with something other than penetrating amber eyes. But as the day drew to a close, and she walked back into her hut, she cursed once again.

“Well, at least the fishing was successful,” she said dryly as she emptied her satchel on the table.

Her nets were drying, spread out on rocks set back from the lapping waves, and a pile of herring glistened on her table, but she did not see their scaly bodies. All she saw was Ronan.

As day gave way to night, she submitted to her weakness and allowed him to take over her every thought. And for the next few days, she did as she was bid: She watched for him. Gazing out over the moors, she looked for his coming, but each night, she turned back inside, alone.

On the seventh morning, she awoke with clenched fists. Had it all been a lie? She did not know, but she would be damned if she waited around any longer to find out. Casting her blanket aside, she grabbed the cloak of the Witch of Dervaig. She refused to watch for his return another day. If he would not come to her, then she would go to him and hear from his own lips why he stayed away. Sweeping the cloak over her shoulders, she stepped onto the moors, limping and shuffling toward Gribun. She may not be a witch, but he was sorely mistaken if he thought he could use her and not fear the consequences. No, Ronan would not be punished with magic, but if he cast her aside as her vision foretold, she would make sure he suffered.