The Witch of Black Isle by Keira Montclair
Chapter Twenty
Jennet was exhausted. Ethan had made good on his word and stayed by her side through the rest of the night. No one had approached them that they didn’t know, and she hadn’t been bothered by anyone else. Well past dusk, many of the warriors were deep in their cups, and she’d caught several lasses flipping their skirts about in a clear attempt to tease one man or another. But the behavior had gone from rowdy partying to slurring of words, many men finding a tree to lie under and launching into snores as soon as their head hit the ground.
Some were making their way out to find their tents in the field around Matheson Castle, indicating the night was nearly over. Once the crowd began to scatter outside the gates, Ethan said to her, “Mayhap you’ve had enough of the crowd? I have. I’d prefer to go inside the great hall for some quiet.”
“Aye. Actually, if you don’t mind, I’d like to go to my chamber. I’m verra tired and the day was challenging. Do you mind?” She glanced up at him, and his gaze locked on hers.
“Nay, I don’t mind. I’ll escort you to your chamber to see you are safe.”
How she wished she could lean toward him and ask him to wrap his arm around her, but she was afraid he wouldn’t. Perhaps his comfort from before was just an exception to the rule and his old fears had fallen back into place. She wouldn’t dare test them now. “How did you like wearing the trews instead of your plaid?”
“I prefer it. Many thanks to you.” He smiled at her, and her heart set off a hundred butterflies into the world, though nothing else happened.
Her wishes were not so extravagant, she thought. A kiss, holding hands, a brush of her arm.
But what chance did she have of creating any kind relationship with a man who was afraid of touch?
Ethan escorted her to her chamber above the stairs. When she turned around to thank him, something dawned on her—something that made her belly sink with shame. “Ethan, how is your wound? I never checked it because we were so busy.”
“No worries. I took the bandage off after I washed in the loch. It is healing fine, and there’s no more pain. You need not concern yourself. Whatever you did fixed it.”
That was the best news she’d heard in a while. “Good, I’m glad.” She glanced up at him to see if he would offer a kiss, but she could see by the distance he kept between them that he wasn’t going to offer anything. “My thanks, Ethan. Until the morrow.”
Ethan nodded and left. Jennet stepped inside her chamber and closed the door, her mind on a man with long, dark hair and gray eyes that could see into her soul. How she wished to touch his chest, just to explore all that was Ethan. He was an honorable man, one of principle, one who would indeed protect her forever. Mayhap her sire was right.
But could she marry a man who didn’t like to be touched? She supposed she could get him used to it over time, but what if she could not? There’d be no bairns without touch.
Her mind traveled to his wound and how much she’d enjoyed having that opportunity to touch him without worrying about his response. She’d been careful to keep the linen square over her fingers so as not to touch skin-to-skin, but she could still feel his heat through the linen…had still enjoyed his warmth through the plaid when they’d slept at night.
She was having trouble denying the urges that threatened to consume her, and all over a man who hated touching.
His wound had healed faster than any she’d ever seen, and she was glad of it.
She donned her night rail after washing her face, then tossed a few more logs in the hearth since Tara wasn’t here yet. Then she climbed into bed, sure she would fall asleep quickly.
A few hours later, she awakened, surprised that she’d slept through Tara coming to bed. She rolled over, intending to go back to sleep, but failed. There were just too many things coursing through her mind.
A sudden revelation struck her about Ethan’s wound.
Surprised he’d healed so quickly, she thought back on the situation, on how she’d dug deep before she’d found the piece of broken arrow. Ethan had said it was the area that pained him most, yet as soon as she removed it, the pain had eased.
Could the same be said about her sire’s wound?
She had to pace and think this through, but she did not wish to awaken Tara, so she left the chamber and headed below stairs to the great hall. Once there, she was glad to see it mostly empty but for the embers in the hearth still throwing out some heat. She’d worn a pair of slippers to keep her feet warm, so she paced in front of the hearth, her mind churning with possibilities. There were a few guards asleep on the floor, but she ignored their various snores because she’d do nothing to awaken them.
She and her mother had discussed the possibility of something still being lodged inside her sire’s wound, but they’d struggled to come up with something tangible. Arrows they were familiar with, but there was little else in her mother’s experience. Her mother had also admitted that the first time she cleansed his wound, she had washed out dirt and gravel because he’d fallen in the woods. Her memory told her there’d been much to wash out.
She’d done the same on day two, and her father had still allowed it. It hadn’t turned to the terrible painfulness until a sennight later. At that point, he wouldn’t allow anyone to touch it.
What if there was a piece of leaf or a stone or something lodged in there? Could he be experiencing something similar to Ethan’s wound?
Her excitement about it made her wish to ride home immediately to test her hypothesis. If she was right, she didn’t care if her father hit her as long as it made him well again.
She realized that all this excitement in her mind had given her the urge to relieve herself, so she needed to take care of that first. She headed toward the garderobe that was the farthest away. She hoped no one was there because she valued her privacy.
Someone was already there. Walking to the other one on the main floor, she was quite surprised to find that one in use also. The more walking she did, the greater the urge became. It got so strong she was unsure she could hold herself over a pot.
There was one in the courtyard that was close to the wall, away from any activity. Sighing with satisfaction once she found it empty, she took care of her needs, then left. As soon as she took five steps toward the keep, however, she was knocked over the head with a rock.
Her world turned black.
***
Ethan woke up when his brother bellowed at him. “Ethan, get up!” Shaw stood by the door, and Marcas was at the end of his bed.
“What is it?” he asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
“Jennet is missing. Get dressed. We’re sending a patrol out for her. Have you any idea who would take her?”
Ethan bolted out of his bed, donning his trews, a tunic, and his boots in a matter of seconds. He took a sip of water and swirled it in his mouth, spit, then turned to his brother, grabbing the few mint leaves he had left from the previous day. “There are several suspects.”
“Who?” Marcas prompted.
“Cori threatened her, so I would guess she would ask Alva’s brother to help. Though I have never met him, I heard he can cause trouble.”
“Anyone else?” Marcas asked, leading the way down the staircase. He grabbed a hunk of cheese from a table, tore it in three pieces, and split it with his brothers as they headed out the door toward the stables. Just before he slammed the door, Marcas yelled to those men still lying on pallets in the hall, “The sun is up. Time to find your way out of the hall. Go home, all of you.”
“Marcas, I don’t like this. Last eve, I noticed two men who accosted her on our journey here. I thought they were reivers, but they were inside the gates last eve. They disappeared before I could go after them.” Ethan had an uneasy feeling in his gut that he didn’t like. He was not interested in Cori. He wanted Jennet, and only Jennet. He had to find her.
“What do we do, Marcas? I have to find her.” His confidence waned faster than he liked.
Marcas passed a few of his guards and said, “Meet at the stable. We have work to do.”
Ethan said, “We need as many as we can find. I’ll search the courtyard while you speak to those already at the stable.” They parted ways and Ethan moved about, giving shoves with his foot to those still sleeping. The courtyard was a mess, but that was not his concern at the moment. He needed to find as many men as possible to help them find Jennet.
Torcall joined them, his sword at his side. “I’m here to help. I’ll have all our warriors and archers travel with us.”
“I’ve summoned all those I know. We are to meet Marcas at the stables. Know you anyone else missing?”
Torcall shook his head. “I’ve yelled at all. Even went back into the hall to rouse a few more who were barely moving. But we’ll be there for you, Ethan. Worry not.”
Padraig joined them just as they reached the stable, glancing around at the gathering of the clan. “I heard my cousin is missing. What is with this place on Black Isle? Another daft man after a Ramsay? I surely hope Uncle Logan is nearly here with his force. Of course, I’ll help however I can. I’m not an archer, but I was trained from some of the best swordsmen in all the land.”
“Good. I don’t know where she is, but we could use the manpower,” Marcas said. “Report what you have, Shaw. Alvery has sent Mundi in to round up the guards behind the castle. We’ll take as many as we can.”
Shaw said, “I have ten gathered here already. By the time Mundi brings the ones from behind the keep, we should have more than a score to go with us. We’ve been yelling at men for more than a quarter hour. But we cannot wait. We must get moving or we could lose the trail. We’ll take the ones who are able and Mundi can bring the next group when they’ve gathered. I wish we still had the Ramsay archers with us.”
“Gavin and Merewen trained several archers before they left. They will help us,” said Marcas.
Alvery came out of the stables. “We’re getting the horses ready. Which way should we start?”
Marcas looked at Ethan, who quickly said, “We head to Clan Milton.”
They were ready to go within half an hour and the first group headed down the coastline toward Clan Milton.
“Why the coastline, Ethan?”
“Because I have a feeling she is near water.” He didn’t want to admit he was starting to believe Runi, but he couldn’t dismiss the warnings he’d received.
Shaw said, “Not enough, Ethan. I know you better. You have a reason for wanting to go this way. If we don’t know all, we can’t help yet.”
“All right, but you’ll not like it. And before I tell you what they said, I dismissed it yesterday, and now I’m regretting it.”
Shaw pulled his horse abreast of Ethan and said, “I’ll believe whatever it is.”
“A young seer came to me in the middle of the festival and said that Jennet was going to be in trouble. He didn’t say much else when I pressed him, only that it involved water.”
Marcas said, “He was right about her being in trouble, so I say we stay near water.”
Padraig asked, “Is Clan Milton near water?”
“Aye, ’tis verra near the firth, but so is Clan MacHeth.”
“And that’s where we’re headed. We’ll pass MacHeth land first, then should hit Milton land before nightfall.” Marcas mounted his horse, motioning to Alvery that they would be leaving.
The path wasn’t far from the coastline, some boats out fishing. It would take two hours to reach Milton land or beyond, but they needed to be alert all along the way. They found a few to join their forces as they traveled, making Ethan feel a bit better about their prospects of fighting Clan Milton or whomever had stolen Jennet.
He knew she was a strong lass so he believed she’d be hale, but after all she’d been through, even the strongest could weaken. If only he’d stayed outside her door last eve.
He’d failed her.
They arrived at MacHeth land and all was quiet. Marcas and Ethan went to the gates. “Have you taken any prisoners, MacHeth?” Marcas shouted.
The guard looked down from the curtain wall. “We have no prisoners. Most of our clan is at your festival, never returned. Who are you searching for?”
Marcas said, “A young lass was taken from our keep.”
The guard snorted as the clan chief joined him. “Matheson, I’m sure there are many lasses missing. You know how festivals go. I hear it was a fine one, great food and lots of vendors. Why are you so worried? ’Tis not so unusual after a festival. Mayhap it was the call for someone to steal a bride.” He chuckled at that.
Marcas wasn’t chuckling. “The lass is my wife’s cousin. Logan Ramsay’s niece and he’s on his way.”
“Shite,” the chief said. “We’ll send a dozen with you, but most are not capable of fighting yet. Ramsay will find her, I’m sure.”
Another guard came up to the wall and spoke to his chief.
Ethan wished to know what he said, but the man kept his voice down. When he ended the conversation, the chief turned to Marcas and said, “You need to head to Milton land. Said there was a group gathering about a lass and some witchery. Could that be your lass?”
Marcas cursed under his breath. “Aye, my thanks to you. If you see Ramsay warriors at all, sent them to Milton land.”
“Will do. Godspeed, Matheson. I have a handful I’ll send along behind you.”
Marcas turned to his brother, indicating they needed to move on. “We’ll be there before dark, Ethan. Do not worry.”
They were nearly to Milton land when loud sounds came from the firth. The patrol spread out, moving quietly in the hopes of hearing anything, and they were rewarded.
They were nearly upon the sound when an odd light reflecting out over the water caught Ethan’s attention.
“What is it?” he asked, pointing off toward the horizon.
“I don’t know.” Marcas moved them closer, indicating they needed to be as quiet as possible.
Shaw whispered, “I hear something.”
They dismounted and tied their horses to a group of bushes, then crept closer to Clan Milton. The light came from over the water, away from the castle.
“Hush,” Shaw whispered, holding his hand up.
Padraig said, “Shite!”
Marcas asked, “What is it?”
Padraig brought his horse to higher ground for a better view. “I see the problem, and I hope I’m wrong about it. Those are a group of torches over the water, even though it isn’t quite dusk yet.”
“What are the sounds?” Mundi asked.
Padraig shook his head. “Something I can’t make out.”
“I know,” Ethan said, his heart dropping to his stomach. “They’re chanting.”
They all quieted to listen again, then looked at each other.
Several shook their heads, unable to make out the words, but Ethan finally understood them. He nodded, a sick feeling taking over his whole body, so much so that he felt inclined to run in the other direction and never stop. But of course, he could never leave Jennet.
“What, Ethan?” Marcas persisted.
“I can only make out one word for certain, but I can guess the others,” he said, wishing he was wrong.
“Tell us!”
“‘Witch. Kill the witch.’”