The Witch of Black Isle by Keira Montclair
Chapter Sixteen
Ethan stepped out into the sunshine looking for Jennet. He’d slept until high noon the next day, but he felt so much better. He’d even peeked beneath his bandage, surprised to see very little fluid there. Instead, it had turned to a dried blood that was in the first stages of healing.
He owed Jennet his life.
The first thing he wanted to do was see if he’d healed enough to shoot an arrow. It was time to return to normal. Vendors were setting up booths outside Eddirdale Castle in preparation for the afternoon’s festival.
Ethan loved festival time and he’d missed it. When his clan had been poisoned by the fool polluting their well with toxic milk, everything had stopped. They’d lost more than half their clan, including the chieftain and his wife, Ethan’s parents. He’d watched many taken ill, vomiting and barely able to care for themselves.
He’d never taken ill, but he’d learned it was because of his penchant to boil his water before using it. That had kept him healthy, but his niece and nephew, his siblings had all been ill. He’d done his best to care for those he could and spent much of his time burying their clanmates.
No one came near Clan Matheson for a long time until they’d discovered the cause of the curse. This was the first large festival they’d held since the curse, and he enjoyed the bright colors, the traveling minstrels and musicians, the food booths and other items. It would be a delight to see the smiles on everyone’s faces again. Most of the people would come from nearby clans—Milton, MacHeth, Ross, MacKinnie and they would share ales over roasted boar at the end of the eve.
He made his way through the stalls and banners, the smells of cooking food already floating through the air. His favorite thing to do was to check out all the booths and goods for sale.
He was surprised to be stopped by a man he didn’t know. “Who is the healer here? I see you’ve visited one recently.”
“Who are you?”
The man had a young lad of around six with him. “My name is Rune, and I’ve been practicing the art of healing for years. I’ve come to Black Isle because you had a curse and I wished to help. But now I hear I’m not needed. Is it true?” He was dressed all in black, his long hair also black with a streak of white down one side. Everything else about the man spoke of average folk.
“Aye, the mistress of Clan Matheson is an excellent healer, and she has two cousins visiting who are also renowned for their healing skills.” Ethan didn’t offer names yet, since he wasn’t certain this man was trustworthy. “Who is with you?” The lad also had dark hair but with a red cast to it that he kept long. He had a warm smile.
“This is my son, Runi. I train him to heal also. I’d like to speak with the healers, if I may. Could you point them out to me?”
Ethan scratched his chin, always cautious. “Are you setting up a booth of your own?”
“Aye, I wish to offer my services to others. But it seems I may have to move on to another clan.”
“There are many clans without healers. Set up your booth and I’m sure the healers here will find you. I suspect other clan chieftains will approach you as well. The curse frightened all of us. Your best place to set up is over there.” He pointed to a spot where others were displaying their wares, colorful banners now dotting the landscape, waving in the Scottish wind.
He moved on and headed to the area where the lists were, though they’d not be doing much fighting. This area would be occupied by food vendors, most likely. Ethan found what he’d hoped to find. Both brothers were there speaking with several of their guards and Padraig.
When they saw Ethan, they stopped talking immediately. Ethan wondered what he’d come upon. “Is something wrong?”
Marcas said, “There may be. Ethan, may we talk in private?” He ushered Ethan off to the side where no one could overhear their conversation. “You look much better. How do you fare?”
“My wound is much improved, and I don’t seem to carry a fever.”
“Jennet is a fine healer then?”
“Aye, she is.” Ethan stared at his brother, the one he’d idolized for years. He could see from the look in his brother’s eyes that something was wrong, so he waited.
“Are you interested in Jennet?”
“Aye.”
“Have you told her that? Or are you interested in marriage?” Marcas stood back and crossed his arms in front of him.
“I have told her, but we have not discussed marriage. We are pursuing each other, but I must go slow. You know that, do you not?”
“Aye, you do need to go slow. Please do not feel that I am pushing you, it’s just that…” Marcas shuffled his feet and looked at the ground.
“What is it, Marcas? Have I done something wrong?”
“Nay, not at all. I just feel I am obligated to warn you, Ethan. The lasses from Clan Milton are here. The three who taunted you when you were younger. Do you think they’ll still bother you? It has been a long time.”
Ethan froze, haunting memories taking over. Fraught with different thoughts, some good, some horrendous, he didn’t know how to control the barrage of recollection dancing through his mind.
He wished to recall thoughts of Cori only. She was the one who he found most interesting, the one he’d thought beautiful. Even though their last encounter had not ended well, he’d had previous encounters with her that were pleasing.
Cori was the only woman he’d told his brother he wished to marry. And he’d meant it. No longer true, but it was true long ago. He’d also never told Marcas the true reason they ended their relationship—because he hadn’t satisfied her as a lover.
Bursting in to interrupt those thoughts were visions of her two friends, though he’d not call them friends, she did. Alva and Dunn, taunting him, teasing him, making him wish to run home and never return.
They’d each teased him with a kiss and with an unwanted touch.
They’d dared to touch his manhood. Skin-to-skin. Something he’d hated and never wished to have happen again.
“Ethan, you need to forget their actions. They were the work of odd minds that set out to torture people, make fun with them. They used the failings of others to cover their own.”
“You’ve told me many times, Marcas,” he said, staring at his hands.
“Do you believe it yet?”
He peered up at his brother. “Aye. They were young and foolish. And Cori was truly not involved.”
“And she may have married you if her two friends hadn’t made such an issue of your circumstance. Their persistent taunts that became lies, as words often do when passed from one to another, forced people of her clan to look at you differently. But it doesn’t matter now, does it? You have Jennet.”
“You are correct. I’ll not allow them to bother me.”
“They may apologize for what they did to you. They should. Cori had nothing to apologize for that I recall, other than choosing poor friends.”
“You are right. I will speak to Cori and to the others. I don’t wish this to become gossip after the festival ends.” He would do that. It was time to end this farce of a situation.
“You’re about to get your chance,” Marcas said. “Cori and the others are heading straight for you. I’ll stay if you like.”
“Please do. I’m sure I’ll be fine on my own, but allow me to determine their purpose first.”
Marcas nodded and turned Ethan around. His gaze locked on Cori, surprised to see she was more beautiful than he’d recalled. Her dark blonde hair was quite pretty, the envy of many lasses.
“Greetings, Ethan. My, but you’ve grown much since we last met.” Cori looked him up and down, her hair plaited and hanging nearly to her waist. Her blue eyes gleamed with happiness to see him, or at least he hoped he was the cause of the gleam. She wore a dark red gown that clung to her curves, a lovely dress, but Jennet looked lovelier in her leggings.
Alva’s voice had a mocking tone he didn’t appreciate. “Ethan Matheson, you have grown up, haven’t you? If you’re looking for someone to pleasure you later, I’d be happy to oblige.”
He looked at her through narrowed lids, wondering what her intent was. Alva’s personality hadn’t changed much. She had a condescending manner about her, always treating others as if they were beneath her. Her waist had widened considerably, but her tongue hadn’t changed. He guessed she was hoping to embarrass him yet again. He’d have to stop that from happening.
Dunn was even more of a surprise. She wore a yellow gown that looked like it belonged to her mother, and she’d lost weight, looking much like a skeleton. Had he guessed where she’d been, he would have thought she’d been on Matheson land and sickened from the curse. Her dark hair had streaks of gray in it, aging her much more than Alva or Cori.
“I’m not interested, Alva, but I thank you for the offer. There are many here to tend your needs.”
Dunn smirked and said, “Mayhap you’d prefer to please me, Ethan.”
He had to admit it was freeing to see them as they were. While as a lad, they’d appeared to have some power over him, now they meant nothing at all. Their opinion did not matter to him, so if he had his choice, he’d not waste any time on them. However, his parents had taught him to be polite to anyone visiting Clan Matheson, so he did as his mother had told him.
Taking a hard look at both of them again, he had to wonder what had caused them to age so poorly while Cori was prettier than she’d ever been. “Neither of you are married?”
Dunn said, “I am, but he does not care. I’ve given him two sons, so I’ll play as I wish. Meet me here after the sun drops?”
“Nay,” Ethan said, careful to keep his tone neutral. “I’m not interested.”
“What? After the kiss I gave you and the way I touched you, you must have thought of me many times over the years.” Dunn looked quite indignant, crossing her arms and jutting her chin up a notch.
“I’m sure he preferred my treatment over yours, Dunn.”
“I didn’t appreciate either of your kisses, but ’twas a long time ago, so I choose to forget it.”
Marcas said, “Great idea, Ethan. I’d do the same, ladies, or you may regret it.”
Alva stalked away with a flounce of her skirts. “I’m not interested in any Matheson. I think I shall return to my clan.”
To Ethan’s surprise, Dunn followed her. “I’m leaving too.”
Marcas said, “I’ll leave you two alone. I see Torcall is waving to me. I must see what the problem is. Cori, pleased to see you again.”
Marcas took his leave, which meant he and Cori were the only two left. Cori looked up at him and said, “I miss you, Ethan. I’d always hoped you’d come for me, ask me to be your wife.”
“That seems rather odd, Cori. The last time we spoke, you were not kind to me at all.”
“I know. I was young and foolish. Forget my words, I did not mean them. You were verra kind and considerate, a gentleman, the kind to take as a husband.”
“Why have you not married?”
“I did, but he died. He was a guard and took a wound in practice. Left me with two lads who I wish I could get rid of now that their sire is gone. Perhaps we could get to know one another at the festival. I would like that, Ethan. I’ve always loved you.” Cori batted her fair lashes at him, her bottom lip coming out in a pout.
While her two friends had lost all their appeal in his eyes, Cori had not. He recalled how he’d felt as a young lad, looking at her pretty eyes and her curves. He’d thought her whole appearance to be prettier than anyone else’s, but now he took his time to peruse her more slowly, with a bit of wisdom instead of a lovesick lad. Her skin was still beautiful and her blue eyes were lovely, the two causing a familiar pull inside him. But this time it was different, though he was unsure why.
Something didn’t seem right, but he couldn’t be rude and walk away without saying something to her. “I’m sorry to hear of the loss of your husband, but I must move on. I have duties to see to for my brother. We are building our clan to be stronger than ever.” He spun on his heel and left before she was able to make him commit to something he didn’t wish to do.
He nearly ran into Jennet, just catching himself. “Good, I came to check your wound, Ethan.”
Ethan just nodded, praying Cori wouldn’t utter another word, but it went unanswered. Unfortunately, it was the worst thing she could have said.
“Ethan, I still love you. I will forever.”
Jennet stared at Cori without saying another word.
“Do not believe her, Jennet.”
By the scowl on Jennet’s face, he guessed the damage was already done.