The Witch of Black Isle by Keira Montclair

Chapter Two

They made it back to Eddirdale Castle in short order, and the people in the villages applauded them when they noticed the three boars they carried. Marcas said to Torcall, one of his best warriors, “Take the meat around back to the firepit. Offer as many men as Jinny needs to get them cooked or smoked. We’ll eat one this eve, but we can smoke some for later.”

Torcall headed off, taking Mundi, another warrior, and the boars with him.

Ethan dismounted and said to Shaw, “May I speak with you?”

Shaw took the saddle off his horse and tossed it on a hook before he answered his brother. “I can chat all you wish once I brush my horse down. Can it wait?”

“Aye,” Ethan said, looking around the stables for a task to occupy himself while he waited. He decided to brush his own horse down. He didn’t mind the job as long as the animal was agreeable. Some animals—and most people—didn’t understand Ethan and his strange ways. But that was because they didn’t know what Ethan’s strengths were. Numbers and coins, the stars, remembering details, directions, those were the things he was good at, not getting along with animals and people. Though he risked being labeled cold or inhospitable, it was easier for him to keep to himself than to try to explain.

Ethan brushed his horse as best he could until he began to wiggle. That told him it was time to take his leave. “Shaw, I’ll be outside when you’re ready.” He leaned down to his horse and whispered, “My apologies if I made you uncomfortable.”

Shaw followed him out to a tree in the distance where they could watch the practice going on in the lists. Gavin Ramsay, Brigid’s brother, was now in charge of the practice runs. As they looked on, Shaw said, “He’s a hell of a swordsman.”

“And a hell of an archer. I’d like to try archery. Think you I could be good at it?”

“I think you would be great at it, Ethan. Now, what is it that’s troubling you?” He ran his hand through his red locks, always trying to straighten something that was in disarray. While the three brothers had the same gray eyes, their hair color differed. Marcas and Ethan were dark, while Shaw had the red hair of their mother. Gisela had chestnut-colored hair and green eyes.

“You like Tara.” It was a statement, not a question because he knew it to be true.

“Aye, so what do you wish to know?” Shaw leaned back against the tree and crossed his arms. “Are you interested in Jennet?”

He frowned, displeased he could be read so easily. “Mayhap I am. I’m not sure. How did you know you were interested?”

Shaw smiled but didn’t laugh at him, thankfully. “’Tis difficult to say exactly what it is, Ethan. ’Tis more than just thinking a lass is pretty.”

“Such as?”

“Such as how bright she is, how much she makes you laugh. How much you might like to kiss her, hold her in your arms, though that would not apply to you. But if she’s the right lass for you, you will wish to hold her in your arms someday. Any of those other reasons sound familiar?”

Ethan shook his head. “I know Jennet is intelligent, but she does not make me laugh. But no one makes me laugh over the age of ten. I don’t think about kissing her, so I must not be interested in her if those are the qualifying measures I must use.”

Shaw pushed away from the tree and stepped closer to him. “Ethan, because you are different than me, it may mean something different to you. Mayhap you would like to discuss something with her. Do you find her more interesting than others? Would you rather talk to Jennet than, say, Gisela or Jinny?”

“Most definitely. I value her opinions, and I can learn much from her.”

“Then I think you should pursue her. You’re in no rush, Ethan, so if you found a lass who is more interesting to you than others, why not spend more time with her? It makes sense.”

Their conversation was interrupted by a giggling couple. It was Marcas and Brigid laughing as he carried her into the keep. Marcas had her in his arms, but he threatened to drop her several times, each time receiving a squeal.

“He always catches her. He would never allow Brigid to fall to the ground, so why does he pretend to drop her?” Ethan had wondered this before, not with Marcas but with others. Before the curse, when the courtyard had been full of clan members, men always teased the lasses until they giggled.

“Nay, he’d never drop her. He does it to tease her because he enjoys making her laugh. ’Tis part of the game of love, of courtship.”

“Marcas laughs all the time now,” Ethan said, his gaze following the recently married couple. “He never laughed with Freda.” Freda had been Marcas’s first wife. She died from the tainted water, but she and Marcas had never had a strong relationship. Everything about his relationship with Brigid was different, mostly because they were often together.

“Nay, he did not. ’Tis why we should all make sure we find the right partner for us. We all have one out there. We just have to be careful to find that person.”

“And you think Tara is yours?” Ethan caught the one stray lock waving in the wind and put it back to rights. His hair was long but almost always in place.

“I’m not sure, but I’ll never know if I don’t pursue her.”

“Pursue her?”

“Try to spend more time with her. I find the more we are together, the more I like her. You should try it with Jennet. You may like her more. You may not. But if you don’t try, you’ll never know.”

Ethan took his gaze away from his brother and found a bird singing in a nearby tree that kept his attention. “I wish this were not the truth, but you know how I am, how I wish events had happened differently. But I cannot change the past. The bitches affected my mind, and I would give anything to change it, but how can I? Could this keep me from having a wife and bairns someday?”

Shaw touched his shoulder lightly. “Ethan, you need not get physical with her right away. I know you don’t like anyone to touch you except Marcas, Gisela, and me. If she’s the right person, someday you’ll wish to touch her, I promise. You may find you have much in common. And Ethan, don’t be offended by this.”

Ethan interrupted him because he could guess what he was about to say. “I’m special so ’twill be hard for me. I don’t like being considered special. I’m the same as others, mayhap my mind is better than others, but I train in the lists…”

“Physically, you are the same as anyone. In fact, you have built your muscles bigger than most. But you are special in other ways. Don’t take it as an insult. I think Jennet is special, too. And special for her means more intelligent, more organized. Sound familiar?”

Ethan nodded, his mind made up. He would spend more time with Jennet. “I thought you were going to talk more about the lasses from long ago. I try my best not to think of them, but if not for them, I could be married to Cori now.”

“And mayhap they did you a favor, in an odd way. Jennet is better suited to you than Cori. I think she’s a perfect match.”

“I’ll thank you not to mention my past to Tara or Jennet.”

“Nay, I will not. That incident was a long time ago, and ’tis time for you to move on and put it in your past. I think we agree, do we not?”

“Aye.” He most certainly did agree he should forget them, but he couldn’t. At least once a sennight, thoughts of those cruel lasses laughing at him would surface in his sleep, turning dreams into nightmares.

It had all happened during a festival at Clan Milton. He’d gone with interest in seeing Cori, but when he arrived, he was surprised to see her with another lad. Two of her friends had surrounded him and teased him.

Not about her, but because they’d guessed he was different. Guessed he’d never been kissed.

So each of them had attempted to kiss him. He’d pushed them away as they forcefully approached him, teasing him and causing him great embarrassment. Alva had gotten past his defenses and kissed him anyway, but it had proven quite distasteful to Ethan. Dunn had been less successful, but she’d upset him, also.

“Ethan, I know you’ve gone back there in your mind, but you have to remember they only did it to hide their own wounded pride at not being able to excite you. Lasses like that live to taunt lads. They were more embarrassed than you were, and they did what they did to try to save face. After all, each one had a friend watching.”

Ethan hated that memory because it pained him. It was the type of situation in which he found himself often, where he just didn’t know what to say or do. The thought that followed pained him even more. What if Jennet were like them?

As if Shaw could read his thoughts, he leaned over and whispered, “I promise you Jennet will not be like them. Will you promise me something in return?”

“Aye,” Ethan answered simply. He always did what his brothers or sister asked of him.

“Promise me you’ll spend more time with Jennet.”

“All right. I promise.” He would pursue Jennet Ramsay.

Now he had a promise to fulfill. A wee premature, he thought, as he hadn’t the slightest idea of what to do, but he’d follow his brother’s suggestion for now.

***

The next day, Jennet sat in front of the hearth next to Brigid just before the evening meal. “You’ve hurt yourself too many times, Brigid. ’Tis the same leg as the last time you were attacked by a boar.”

“Aye,” she said, rubbing her wound through her leggings. Her leg was propped up on a stool to slow the swelling. “I swear I’m never going in the forest again, and surely not boar-hunting.”

Marcas came over and handed her a goblet of wine. “This should help ease your pain. And I’ll get you another during the meal.”

“Many thanks, husband. You know I love this special wine.”

He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “We have many in the cellar.”

The door to the keep opened, and Timm peeked his head in. “Chief, there’s someone here to see you at the gates.”

“I’ll be right there.” Marcas turned to Brigid and said, “I’ll return shortly, I’m sure.”

Jennet watched her cousin’s face, and when Marcas left, she said, “You surely do love him. Your face lights up whenever he is nearby.”

“I do. I didn’t know it could be this wonderful.” She sighed, grabbing a fur from the basket near her and tossing it over her lap.

“I can’t imagine how it would feel,” Jennet said quietly, her eyes drifting down toward the fire. She hoped Brigid saw how honest she was in that moment.

“Jennet, I wish you would find your mate, and I do think there is someone out there for you. Mayhap not on Ramsay land or even on Black Isle, but he’s out there somewhere.”

Jennet sighed, then stared at her hands. “I never thought I was missing out until I saw you with Marcas. You’re so happy, happier than I’ve ever seen you before.”

“What about Ethan? Tara has taken a liking to Shaw. Is there anything about Ethan that appeals to you? I truly think you two have much in common.”

Her pride still wounded from the day before, Jennet replied, “What? I don’t think we have anything in common at all, but his looks do please me.” And he’s the first man I’ve ever actually looked at in that way, she thought. Could that mean something? She’d have to ponder on it some more. “He’s not a healer, so what could he have in common with me?”

“He likes numbers the way you do, and he’s verra good with them. He appears to be organized, and I know you can appreciate such a rare quality, especially to the extent that you are organized. He’s nearly as fastidious as you are about those kinds of things.” Brigid looked at Jennet for a few moments, making her uneasy.

But Jennet couldn’t argue with her dear cousin, instead recognizing that she needed to hear Brigid’s thoughts on Ethan and their possible compatibility. “Why do you hesitate? Say what you mean.”

“You are uncomfortable around people sometimes. You do fine when you’re trying to heal someone, but your ways are serious. He’s the same.”

“What does it matter how serious I am?” What in the world was she trying to say? She hated to admit she was feeling a bit prickly at her cousin’s words, but she hadn’t said anything that wasn’t true. Perhaps that was why it made her uncomfortable. When she was younger, her focus and dedication had entertained many. She’d beamed with pride as her elders commented on how she was beyond her years. Now that she was of full age, no one saw her as unique or any different from her cousins.

Or did they?

Brigid leaned forward and kept her tone low. “Jennet, do you recall the time we were the guests of the king? He gave you orange slices in appreciation for your skills and for helping him with the pain in his joints. We all ate them and laughed every time we squirted the sweet juice from the orange.”

“I do recall. We laughed for a long time over that.” She couldn’t help but smile at the memory in the royal castle. The king had treated her like a queen, especially when her family had all dined together.

“Aye, we did. ’Tis one of my fondest memories of all of us, but you haven’t laughed like that in a long time. I wish you to be as happy as you were that day, but I’m not sure what would make you happy. For me, it is Marcas. Could it be Ethan for you? Or will you be happier living alone all your life? Only you can answer that question.”

That was quite a question, and Jennet wasn’t sure how to answer. She didn’t have much time to think on it, as a moment later the keep door flew open and banged against the wall.

It was Brigid’s father. “Jennet, you’re going home.”