The Witch of Black Isle by Keira Montclair
Chapter One
Late Spring 1292 Black Isle
The worst had finally happened.
Jennet Ramsay stood by while the day she’d dreaded her entire life simply came and went, unaware of the flagrant affront as it happened to her. She’d finally developed a wee bit of interest in a man only to find the feeling was not mutual.
This reality began to set in only later as she stood next to Ethan Matheson.
The day had started innocently enough. Brigid, her cousin, newly wed to Ethan’s brother, came into their chamber, the one Jennet shared with Tara. “Will you come along on the hunt?”
“What hunt have you planned?” Tara asked, climbing out of bed and plaiting her long brown hair.
“Marcas wants to hunt boar and venison. The three brothers are all going, and they wish to invite you two along.”
“But why would I go? I’m not an archer,” Jennet said, her usual sense of reason smothering all nuance.
Brigid moved over to her bed and tugged her up to a sitting position. “Please come. Marcas said he’ll take us to the area where the faeries live. Said there’s great hunting near there, and Tara wishes to see it. I think you’ll enjoy it, too. I don’t wish for you to stay back on your own. ’Tis looking like a glorious spring day here in the Highlands. I’m wearing my leggings and planning to enjoy the ride with my husband.”
Jennet considered her offer but decided against it. “I’ll be fine here. There are a few books I’d like to read, books Marcas’s father purchased a while ago. Gisela showed them to me.” Jennet did not understand the allure of hunting and killing animals.
Brigid waggled her brow at her cousin and best friend. “Jennet, Ethan is going with us.”
While that did pique her interest a bit more than the first offer, she remained unconvinced she should go along. After only a brief hesitation and without betraying her thoughts, she replied, “Why would that matter?”
Tara laughed and threw a wet linen square she’d just used on her face directly at Jennet, hitting her on the shoulder. “I’m grateful you did not send the linen with your dirt and grime into my face.”
“Jennet, you should try to have some fun today. You’ll not be here without your parents watching your every move for long. Don’t you love being free to do as you please and not worrying about a cousin or sibling judging your actions? I surely do.” Brigid moved over to the basin to wet her wild curls a bit and used the time to plait her long waves. “My thanks for reminding me, Tara. If I don’t do this now, I’ll forget. Marcas prefers my hair down, but I don’t want any flying gore to stick between my strands.”
Jennet couldn’t deny that she’d enjoyed watching Ethan without interruption from her brother Torrian or her sisters Lily and Bethia. She didn’t think she’d ever be interested in a man in that way, but Ethan was different. “I have to agree with you about the freedom. Torrian always has a comment about what I do. And your sire, of course.” While she loved Uncle Logan dearly, he did have a way of snooping about, trying to catch you at your worst. She knew to watch out if he did, as he wasn’t shy about letting the whole household and countryside know about it.
“I think someone is falling for Ethan,” Tara sang out in a teasing lilt that irritated Jennet.
“I’ll never fall for anyone, let alone love him. But my curiosity has been sated. I’ve always wondered whether I could be interested in marriage and its carnal elements. I found I could be a wee bit, but not much.”
“Carnal?” Tara spat out, nearly choking on her words. “I forget you are so much brighter than the rest of us. You always know the correct word for everything in a healer’s world.”
“You should too,” Jennet countered. “You have that beautiful book of your mother’s, the one with the location of all the vessels and organs in the body.” She stared at the wall for a moment, visualizing the heavy tome that had been a gift from Tara’s father. “I wish I had one just like it.”
“Truly? How could you not be curious about men?” Brigid asked with a frown, evading the change in subject. “And if you’re not, you should be. ’Tis quite fabulous with the right person.”
Tara added, “Everyone goes at a different pace. The Matheson brothers are a good example. Shaw is the youngest, yet I would wager he has more experience than the other two.”
Brigid gave Tara a smug look and said, “Nay, he does not. Not more than Marcas.”
“Either way, I don’t think Ethan is any more ready than I am,” Jennet said. “I know you’d like to match us, just as you would Tara and Shaw, but ’tis most unlikely to happen.” Brigid’s allusion to her physical relationship with Marcas did niggle at her. Was there more to it than exchanging spittle?
She recalled her first and last kiss from a boy who’d since left Ramsay land. She’d reacted with a violent need to wipe his saliva from around her mouth while the lad ran off, his chest puffed with pride and a broad smile on his face.
“Stop thinking of your first foolish kiss a couple of years ago. I can tell by the scowl on your face. I promise ’twill not be the same. He was not experienced. Try it again with the right man and you might enjoy it,” Brigid promised with a cheeky grin.
“I recall that,” Tara said. “Believe Brigid. Those young kisses are not the same as a kiss from a more worldly man.” She waggled her brow at Jennet. “A man like Ethan.”
“You’re so similar, in many ways,” Brigid persisted, standing in front of Jennet and fiddling with her hair. “And you have no idea how pretty you are.”
Nor did she care. Jennet stared at her cousin. Her face glowed with pride, betraying the high priority she’d assigned to beauty in all things. But for Jennet, there was simply very little relevance to it. “Please, Jennet. For me?”
Jennet let out a huge sigh, her will softening. Only for these two, she thought. “As long as you recognize we’re not alike. I know we’re cousins, and we’ve been best of friends from as far back as I can recall, but we’ve changed with age. Now I often think we’re opposites.” Jennet was the older of the two by one year, but they’d always been different in many ways. Never had those differences become more stark than when the three of them were taken captive and brought to Black Isle to save the Matheson clan. Brigid had fallen for her captor, while Jennet had wished to have him taken in by the magistrate.
But as much as she fought the idea, Jennet had noticed how similar she and Ethan were, which was hard for her to admit. Jennet had always been different from most lasses. For as long as she could remember, her interest had been in healing, never lads.
This was the first she and Brigid had spent much time away from Clan Ramsay, and they’d been pleased to find their cousin Tara Cameron also kidnapped. The three had been mistaken for two of the best healers in the land—their mothers—but they were all healers in their own right and had managed to uncover and eliminate the curse on Clan Matheson. There’d been no new deaths since they’d arrived at Eddirdale Castle. The “curse” had turned out to be a man with sour regrets who was attacking the clan indirectly by throwing poisoned milk into the well. Many had died, and many more had sickened.
Through their powers of logic, the trio uncovered the source of the illness, Brigid falling in love with the chieftain in the process. Jennet had stayed on simply because she’d never been far from her dear cousin.
At least, Jennet told herself that was why she stayed, that it wasn’t because of Ethan.
Then there was Tara, who’d stayed on because of Shaw.
Brigid gave her a swift hug. “I’ll go along with whatever you say as long as you come with us. Jennet, I want you to have a good time. I know my marriage happened quickly and has been an adjustment for you, but I’m hoping you can find your partner in life, too.”
“I may, but he may not necessarily be here on Black Isle. My person could be on Ramsay land. Please don’t push me into a relationship to make you happy.” Though she had no idea who she would consider, she had to say something.
“You speak the truth. This I cannot argue, but I see you as pouting, and it’s not you. All the years we spent together are mostly happy memories. I want this one to be happy, too.”
“I’m not pouting,” she grumbled, knowing it was a total falsehood. “All right, I’ll try to be better.”
“My thanks to you, dear cousin,” she said with a smile, giving her another swift hug. “Cousins together forever.” She spun around to leave, then stopped to say, “We’ll be at the stables in half the hour.”
Brigid had to use their favorite expression they’d used since they were five summers or so. Together forever. They’d been inseparable, but one man changed all that.
One man.
Jennet grumbled a bit as she finished her ablutions, though she supposed she’d at least have something to do now. There wasn’t much need for her healing at present, and the need wouldn’t return until the Mathesons built their clan back up to what it was. She’d confess to boredom if anyone cared to ask, and the prospect of reading a new book was quite exciting to her. I suppose there’ll be plenty of time for that later, she thought.
Making her way down to the stables, she saw Ethan coming her way, so she headed toward him. She would do what she could to be pleasant and happy for Brigid, which meant being kind to Marcas’s brother. Ethan approached her, though not with a smile on his face, but he stopped to speak with her.
“You are going along on the hunt?”
“Aye.” Jennet met his gaze as he paused, feeling her response was quite adequate. She didn’t owe him an explanation, and it wasn’t for him to decide. But noticing how serious he looked, she realized they could be more alike than she thought. Maybe he was not happy about Brigid marrying Marcas either.
“But you’re not an archer, and you don’t hunt.” He looked at her a little too deeply for her comfort. His gray eyes seemed to touch her soul, something she didn’t realize a man could do. His long dark hair was nearly black and moved like the waves on the sea. The strength of will she’d once had to deny the allure of his strong jawline, his firm lips, and even the odd scar above his one eye was failing her.
She was sure it was just a healer’s curiosity that made her want to touch that scar, to discover its secrets.
“True, but my cousins begged me to go along, so I thought to oblige them. I’m not thrilled at the prospect, but traveling to the faerie land could prove interesting.”
“I’m glad you will be on the journey. I do enjoy your company, Jennet. We often have interesting conversations.” He whirled around and ran off to the stables.
She headed in the same direction. If Ethan wished to talk with her, why did he run away so quickly?
No matter. Ethan was also different from most men. He was more thoughtful and liked to follow the rules; they shared common ground there, at least. The man was honest, handsome, and honorable. She always felt safe around Ethan, and he struck her as the type of noble Highlander her father would like.
She found herself wondering if he’d ever been kissed. She blamed her cousin for making her think about what it might be like to kiss Ethan. If she were to guess, she’d say he’d be gentle and non-spitty…without spit. Yes, non-spitty—if that was not a word before, she’d just made it one.
That’s what her first requirement would be for the classification of a good kiss—non-spitty.
Heading inside the stable, she moved down the stalls looking for a horse that suited her. After a few minutes, she led a sweet chestnut-colored mare outside. She grabbed an apple from a basket and handed it to the animal before mounting. She tested the mare to make sure she would follow commands well enough and not send her flying to the ground at the first change in landscape. Once she was satisfied, she waited patiently for the others.
The others arrived excited and disorganized. It took some time for the group to ready themselves, but Jennet was in no hurry. Looking about, she quickly found another diversion to pass the time. A wolfhound was approaching the group with a litter of puppies tagging along behind her in a cluster of chaos. She observed their movements closely. Ducks marched along in nice, neat lines, but puppies preferred to scamper about wherever they pleased. She often thought the mother had no idea where her bairns were until something happened to them. With a mother’s instinct, though, she would be right there to rescue them at the right moment. She watched, entranced, as the wolfhound corralled her young ones. Amazed at the immensity of a mother’s task to protect her wee ones, she couldn’t understand why a dog didn’t just walk away from her litter. It couldn’t be pleasant to have so many wee beasts attached to one’s teats.
Tara followed her line of vision and said, “Aw, Jennet. Do you not wish to have your own bairns one day?”
Jennet stared at her in shock, scowling. “Nay.”
Tara frowned. “Jennet, you like to think yourself different, but underneath, we’re the same. You’re not fooling me.” Looking about, she spotted Shaw moving away and promptly began to ride in his direction.
What did Tara mean by that? She was different, even her mother had acknowledged it. Marriage and bairns were not at all what she imagined in her future. Her time would be much better spent developing her healing skills.
There were men who spent their lives learning how to cut into people to save them. How fascinating it was! But that opportunity was not for her. For now, she’d promised to stay on Black Isle a little longer to make sure the curse was gone. The bastard who’d poisoned the well water by throwing in spoiled goat’s milk was dead, but she and her cousins were thorough. He’d caused many needless deaths and illnesses, and the girls would not rest until their theory was proven correct and the clan’s concerns were assuaged.
So far, there had been no more illnesses originating from the milk, and the original well had been shut down.
That breakthrough had served to lighten the mood, as was reflected a short time later when Brigid wed Marcas, the chieftain of Clan Matheson. Though she was glad to see Brigid find happiness, the marriage had left Jennet feeling quite alone. In fact, the change had made her miserable. Too much had happened too quickly, leaving home, her cousin marrying, a man interested in her, her thoughts were a jumble.
And she missed her mother and father dearly. She should have returned with Uncle Logan, but instead she chose to stay with her cousins. Perhaps she’d made a colossal mistake, one that was too late to fix.
“Are you coming, Jennet?” Brigid called out to her.
“Aye,” she replied. She noticed Ethan arrived to ride abreast while Tara was on the other side. They headed out, along with ten guards Marcas must have chosen to guard the group.
“Is there truly a faerie glen, Ethan?” asked Tara.
“Aye, so they say. Do you believe in faeries?” He glanced over at her.
Tara replied, “I surely do. And so do most of my family.”
Jennet thought for a moment, then said, “I haven’t made my mind up. Many people I trust believe in them, but I’m not sure I’ve seen solid evidence to support their existence. I am interested in learning more, though.” Jennet kept an open mind and loved unique discoveries, especially if she could read about them in books. And who wouldn’t be curious about faeries?
They’d been moving along quietly for a while when Marcas held his hand up to slow the group. Silence fell as they listened. “The faerie door is said to be in this area. We’re almost to Rosemarkie, and there’s a glen where rumor speaks of faerie land all around the two waterfalls.”
Marcas led them to the glen where the six dismounted, then he sent the guards to check the area with instructions to his best guard, Torcall, “If you see anything worth bringing down, please do. Don’t wait for us. We’d like a big feast on the morrow for the late meal.”
The guards rode on, loudly bragging about their skills, but Jennet ignored them. Suddenly she felt an odd foreboding come over her. She looked to Tara, whose sister was a seer, to see if she’d had any inklings about the area.
Tara was racing about the glen, taking in the beauty of it. “’Tis a lovely area, Marcas. My thanks for bringing us here. I can picture the faeries dancing on the rocks above the falls.” On the opposite side of the glen, not far from the waterfall, Tara stopped and turned in a slow circle. “’Tis the spot.”
“What spot?” Brigid asked.
“Here,” she said, freezing in place and glancing over her shoulder. “I feel something, an aura. I’m not sure what, but it has a different presentation here than outside this area. It makes me think of cousin Elyse. This would be the perfect place for Aunt Avelina and Elyse to meet with a faerie.” Aunt Avelina had a long history of meeting with a special faerie, though it had taken place many years ago when she’d been dubbed the keeper of the sapphire sword. It was still one of their favorite stories to tell.
Marcas and Brigid were on the far side while Jennet had joined Tara, Shaw, and Ethan. “’Tis a lovely waterfall, even apart from the faerie glen,” Jennet said, her gaze fixed and alert.
Tara smiled but said nothing. Jennet thought her about to say something when she was interrupted by Brigid letting out a scream. A wild boar appeared and immediately charged her. Before Marcas could react, the boar’s tusk struck her leg, sending her flying through the air.
Shaw spun around and sent his dagger flying. It caught the beast in its thick neck, slowing it considerably. Marcas moved toward the beast, unsheathing his sword. He was ready to take the kill, but he had to get near it first.
The boar traipsed a wild path, squealing in pain from the dagger, as three more wild pigs burst into the area, striking at anything in their way. The beasts looked hellbent on trying to defend their comrade from the invaders.
Tara screamed when she saw Brigid fly through the air and screamed again when the next three pigs broke through the forest. The trio of beasts headed straight for Brigid instead of Marcas, which confused Jennet momentarily. When she saw the smallest of the three latch onto Brigid’s leg, its wide mouth taking most of her thin calf into its jaw, Jennet lost control. Her fury at the blasted animals took over, goading her to action.
The three men were still focused on the largest boar, leaving only her and Tara, who was still screaming and spinning in a circle at the chaos around them.
Brigid tried to poke the boar in the eye but missed, so Jennet went behind the animal, grabbed its hind legs, and yanked them up and out from under it. The ruthless beast let go of Brigid. “Run, Brigid.”
The beast weighed less than Jennet, so she hung onto its hind legs, keeping its jaws away from her or anyone else. Brigid rolled out from underneath the spotted animal with a soft whimper and ran to the horse, noticeably limping. Ethan appeared at Jennet’s side and cut the beast’s throat before she could turn her head. Blood spurted in all directions. She dropped the beast’s hindquarters and rushed into the bushes, afraid she was about to heave.
Ethan followed her. “You are hale? Did he bite you?”
“Nay,” she huffed, still gasping from the exertion of hanging onto the beast. “I’m fine.”
“You look a wee bit green. My mama used to tell me to sit down if I felt like heaving.” A peculiar look crossed his face. “Why do you feel that way? You’re a healer. You see blood all the time.”
Jennet couldn’t argue with him, her hand involuntarily reaching out to latch onto his forearm. “Mayhap because I never kill anything intentionally? You did.”
“’Twas a boar attacking you and Brigid. ’Tis also meat for my clan.”
Jennet took a deep breath and stood back, grateful that Ethan remained with her. It allowed her to regain control of her senses. “I’m fine now, and I owe you many thanks for assisting me.” He’d been the steady force she needed in the middle of this melee.
When she glanced over his shoulder, she saw the other guards entering the clearing. They celebrated the boar kill, of which they had three. The fourth had run away.
Remembering Brigid, her eyes darted around, searching for her. Marcas had seated her on his horse while Tara studied her leg. Jennet rushed over to join them, worry infusing her as she prayed the animal hadn’t left an open bite. “Brigid, are you badly wounded?” Her gaze scanned Brigid’s body for any sign of a wound, leaking blood, or any unusual swelling.
Tara faced Jennet and answered for her. “Nay, I think because of the heavy wool her mother uses for her leggings, its teeth never broke the skin. She’ll be bruised and sore, but she shouldn’t have to worry about the fever. We’ll wash her when we return.”
Marcas looked at Jennet. “Where did you learn that technique?”
“What technique?” Jennet asked, perplexed. She hadn’t done any healing, so she wasn’t sure what he was talking about.
“Holding up the hind legs. I saw you do it, and the boar let go of her immediately.”
“Oh, that. Torrian taught me that. He raises Scottish Wolfhounds and when they fight, ’tis what he does. He says ’tis guaranteed to work with dogs because it throws off their balance and they let go. But Ethan came along and kept the beast from turning on me. I don’t know how much longer I could have held him up. He was verra strong.”
Brigid said, “I owe you a big hug, cousin. I’ll do it when I get down, but my leg hurts too much at present.”
“And you’ll not get down yet, either,” Marcas intervened. “You’re riding back with me. You can hug her later.” Marcas crossed his arms protectively. His stance told Jennet that Brigid had no choice in the matter.
Jennet turned to Ethan. To her own surprise, perhaps spurred by the wave of relief after all the action, she said, “Then I must owe you a hug for getting the boar away from me.”
His brothers’ eyes stopped on him knowingly. Ethan took a step back. “Please do not.”
Jennet, a wee bit offended, asked, “Why not?”
“I prefer not to be touched.”
Jennet deflated. The bit of hope she’d allowed to grow inside her that she might experience her first true kiss with Ethan suddenly turned to disappointment. If he didn’t like to be touched, he surely wouldn’t want their mouths exchanging saliva. Perhaps he recoiled because he knew she’d be less non-spitty than he.
She needed to go home. Even she had to admit she was no longer needed here. At least on Ramsay land, she could be useful helping her mother as healer for the clan.
This adventure on Black Isle had proven wonderful for Brigid, but quite the opposite for her. She was doomed to be alone.