Books by Maggie Shayne (284 page)

Nicodimus glanced her way. "Are you not hungry, Ar-ianna? Is it your arm? Is it paining you?"

She shook her head, and took a piece of mutton from the trencher set before her. "I'm nervous, I suppose. Laird, will you tell me what you've decided?"

"Food first, lass," he muttered around a mouthful of pork. "Talk later."

"I'm afraid I'll never be able to eat until I know what it is you're about to ...
suggest
I do."

The feeding stopped momentarily. Lud glanced at Ken-yon, and then the two grinned. "Never known our father to be one for makin'
suggestions,7'
Lud said.

"Aye," replied his brother. "Mostly he just gives orders."

"Enough," Nidaba said sharply ... or, sharply, for her. But the lads fell silent. And Nidaba addressed their father. "Surely you can see the girl is frightened of what will befall her next, Joseph," she said softly.

"Nay, not frightened!" Arianna argued. "I dinna fear anything!" Her voice carried to the other tables. They all looked at her for a moment, perhaps surprised at such a declaration from such a small female. She focused her eyes on her food, waiting until they all went back to eating and the conversation grew loud again. Then, more softly, she went on.

"I canna wait endlessly for my fate to be sealed, Laird. I must know what you intend to do with me."

Drawing a deep breath, Joseph wiped the back of one hand across his mouth, then leaned back in his chair. "Very well, then," he said slowly. "The answer is obvious. Lass, what you need is protection. And a bit of taming, I might add. A man's name is like armor to a woman—his guidance, most needed. Especially in a lass as wild as you. You've got to get yourself a man. A husband."

Arianna felt her eyes widen, and she stiffened with ten-

sion. "You'll forgive me, Laird, but a husband is what the fool who cut me meant to be. I canna see that—"

"Now, lass, I said, you need a man. Angus Mac-Clennan's a mere lad with half a brain an' less in the way of ambition. Bein' his wife would be no good for you. A woman with a nose for trouble such as you have needs a man stronger than she, not weaker."

It was too late now for discretion, for every man in the room was looking on in great interest. Blinking, looking around, desperate for any option to the laird's decision, she glanced wildly around the table. Her gaze met first Lud Lachlan's, then his brother's, and the expressions in their eyes as they stared at her made panic flutter in her chest. "Who ... who ... ?" She sounded like an owl. But she couldn't seem to speak. Not the laird's sons. Please, not his sons. She'd never liked them in that manner. Lud was a slightly pompous bully who pushed his younger brother around with his weight and size, while Kenyon fought back with his keen intellect. Lud was too big and brutish, Kenyon too small and effeminate to stir in her the kind of reaction, the hot longing that Nicodimus did. And besides, throughout their childhood, neither of them had often let her forget that they considered themselves her betters. Although they'd changed their attitude toward her since she'd reached adulthood... since she'd grown breasts, at least.

They had even saved her life that day in the loch. But they had failed to save her sister... though they'd tried. They had failed, and she supposed she shouldn't hold that against them, but she couldn't help it. Each time she'd seen them since the day Raven had drown, had only served as a painful reminder of that horrible day.

She turned toward Nicodimus, but he was sitting very still, watching Joseph, waiting for his next words. He looked as if he were holding his breath. Joseph returned his gaze before turning his attention back to Arianna.

"You need the protection of a husband, lass. And I need to see to the well-being of the clan. I can't have this sort of talk dividing us," Joseph said slowly. "An' while I'm

unsure it's wise to do so, my sons have insisted I consider choosing one of them as your husband."

"Aye," said Lud. "You'd be safe wed to the firstborn and heir of the laird." His eyes, friendly before, looked hungry now. And having seen the way Lud devoured the meat on the table, she nearly feared he'd do the same to her.

"Laird... surely there must be some other way to ensure my safety than—"

"Or the second bom, who is far closer to the right age for her!" Kenyon shouted.

"Oh, but I—"

"Or the chieftain himself," said Nidaba, very softly. And when Arianna sent her a surprised look, she thought Nidaba looked smugly satisfied. So she thought Arianna would be out of Nicodimus's reach for good now, did she? "Joseph's wife has been dead this past decade. It is time he remarry," Nidaba went on, ignoring the desperate look in Arianna's eyes. "So, Joseph, which will it be?"

Arianna shoved herself away from the table, springing to her feet. As she did, so did two of the laird's men, one with a shank of meat still in his hand. "Nay!" Arianna cried. "I dinna mean to be rude, Laird, an' I am grateful to you—and fond of your sons, but I could never—''

The laird held up a hand to silence her. With a commanding look, he ordered his men to take their seats again. "Alas, Arianna, there's no other way. I'll leave the choice up to you. One of my sons, one of my men ... But one way or another, lass, there's goin' to be a wedding. An' soon."

She shook her head rapidly, her eyes welling with hot tears. And she could feel the eyes of every man in the place focused on her, speculative and cold. Then she glanced down at Nicodimus, who remained just as still as a statue, and whose face had gone stony. He met her eyes, had to have seen the plea in them, the fear.

"I'll leave here," she said at last. "I'll leave the village an'—"

"An' what lass? Make your way through the highlands

alone?" the laird asked. "How would you eat? Or live? Nay, you'll marry. I promise whoever you choose, I shall see to it you're safe and protected, well cared for an' happy. An', lassie, you must know 'tis a great gift I offer you! My own sons, 'tis a match beyond your dreams."

"My dreams are far bigger than you could possibly know, Laird." Her voice grew quieter, until she had to swallow the lump in her throat in order to go on speaking. "An' I'm well aware of the gift you offer. I'm but a crazy wench with no prospects beyond marry in' a cobbler's son. Yet you offer your own sons. I dinna expect you to ken why I must refuse but—"

"Lass, you've no choice in the matter. I am laird of this clan. You will choose. Tonight. I'll speak to your father, an' I've no doubt he'll agree."

Blinking, turning her wide gaze from one of the men to the next, she felt as trapped as a hunted animal. And suddenly she felt as if she couldn't breathe. She drew in all the air she could, but it wasn't enough. Her chest constricted, and she pressed a palm flat to it, inhaling again and again. A pulse beat in her throat so hard it felt as if she were choking on her own heart.

Nicodimus got to his feet and went to her, searching her face worriedly. "Easy, Arianna," he whispered. "Breathe in slowly. Slower than that." He gathered her up, and took her back to her chair, then lowered her gently into it. "There's no need for all this upset. Joseph is only looking after you."

"I... w-want to go home."

His blue eyes softened. "Arianna, if you return home you'll not be safe. Your father is no fighting man. And with the talk in the clan being what it is ..."

"I canna ... I willna marry ... not unless ..."

"Unless...?"

She got her breathing under control, sat up straighter, and turned to face Joseph Lachlan, while Nicodimus remained standing beside her chair. ' 'If I must choose, then I'll choose right now," she said, her voice no longer shaking, but firm and strong. She turned to Nicodimus. "I

choose you. If I must marry, I choose you, Nicodimus."

His face went as hard as granite, and his eyes turned cold. "I," he stated in a voice that made her tremble, "was not one of your choices."

She lifted her chin, turned her head quickly away so he wouldn't see the sudden, hot tears that sprang to her eyes at his quick, firm rejection. There was a satisfied look in Nidaba's eyes. "Then I'll nay marry at all," Arianna declared.

She got to her feet, walked directly toward the doors.

"Lassie!" the laird cried, getting up as well. "You mustn't go back into the village, 'twould nay be safe."

"If you wish to stop me, Laird Lachlan, you shall have to kill me." She jerked a heavy door open, stepped out, pulled it closed behind her... and then she ran.

I could only stand there and watch when Arianna rose as proudly and regally as a princess, and left us all behind her without a backward glance.

There had been no mistaking the pain in those brown eyes. Deeply felt, but quickly hidden. I had hurt her. I hadn't meant to. My reaction had been gut deep, the instinctive lashing out at that which caused me pain. I had done wrong, I knew that now. She had felt trapped, and she had reached out to me for help. I should have seen her desperation, should have realized she was only reaching for me the way a drowning man would reach for a sliver of driftwood. I had callously slapped her small hand away. And why? Because of my own need to preserve my solitary existence. Because of my own weakness where Arianna was concerned. I was afraid, I suppose, of a girl as small and slight as a butterfly. Determined that I would feel no more for her than I did already, and causing her pain in my attempts to ensure that. I was afraid, yes, but not of her. I feared being hurt again. The agony of the last time was still with me.

* * *

Anya, fiery haired, soft-spoken Anya, lying on a bed of furs, too hoarse and exhausted to scream anymore, while the clan elderwomen worked around her, grim expressions on their weathered faces. I'd been with Anya fully half my life, by then. For fourteen years, we had been as one. And no matter how often her brothers, Marten and Kohl, mounted raids on our village seeking vengeance, trying to steal her back, she'd remained safely at my side.

Jaymes had only just seen his twelfth year, and he huddled outside our hut, his face tearstained, his entire body shaking. Will paced, trying hard to be a man. To help, to be strong for his mother, his brother, and me. I couldn't even offer my sons any comfort. I was afraid right to my soul as my wife struggled to give birth to our baby girl, but to no avail.

Anya grasped my hand as I leaned over her. She stared up at me with her eyes of pale blue, and very softly, she whispered, "I never thanked you for taking me away from them, Nicodimus. You saved me, you know."

"I'd save you going through this now, if I could." Tears choked me, burned my eyes and my throat.
Saved her?
How could she say it? I had brought this on her. It was
my
child she carried, struggled to deliver. I was nearly out of my mind with the frustration of being utterly unable to help her. There was nothing I could do. Nothing, and it ate at my soul.

"Hush," she said. "It is nearly over."

My head came up fast in alarm when she said those words.

"I have had a good life with you. I have grown to love you, husband. And if I had to do it all over, I would change nothing. I promise you that."

"Anya ... you mustn't speak that way...."

"I will speak as I must. Time is short. You know it as well as I."

"No..."

She lifted a trembling finger, touched it to my lips. So brave. She even managed a smile for me. "Take care of the boys, my love. Jaymes is so gentle of spirit. He is not

meant to be a warrior like you. And Will. Will is a bit too much of one. He needs to learn to master his emotions, to temper his anger."

"I know. I know, Anya. But you'll be here to see to that."

She shook her head side to side, just once. "Keep them away from my brothers, Nicodimus," she whispered. "Marten and Kohl must never come near my sons. They are cruel, arrogant men without a hint of conscience or decency. They made my life hell... until you came and took me away."

"They'll never come near our sons," I promised her.

She nodded and was silent for a long moment. Her pain, I knew, was constant now. There was no rest in between. No time to prepare for the next bout. She stiffened as if it were growing still worse. Clenching her teeth, her voice broken and hoarse, she whispered, ' 'I love you, Nicodimus. I love you."

Then Anya closed her eyes. Her entire body relaxed for the first time since it had gone taut with the initial birthing pangs. I cried her name again and again, but to no avail. My sweet Anya was gone. I was moved aside by the el-derwomen, who'd done all they could to help her, as they frantically tried to save the babe. But I knew in my bones it was too late for the little one as well.

Weak, nearly lifeless, I went outside to face my sons. I didn't need to tell them. They saw the emotion in my eyes, and they knew. Young Jaymes rushed into my arms and clung to me, sobbing so hard I feared he'd tear himself in two. Will turned away and walked into the forest alone. I stood still as stone and silently vowed never to love another the way I had loved sweet Anya.

"Nicodimus? Nic?"

Nidaba's voice penetrated my mind, her hand on my shoulder, shaking me. I blinked away the haunting memories that still had the power to tear at my soul, even after seven centuries, and faced the woman who had saved my life more than once.

"You cannot mean to go after Arianna," she said, her voice a harsh whisper. "She's trouble to you, to both of us, you know that." Already, Joseph was speaking with his men, his meal disrupted, along with his appetite, I imagined. He would send them after Arianna, though it would pain him to do so.

"How much trouble can she be, Nidaba? She's only a girl."

"She's an immortal High Witch, same as you and I," Nidaba all but hissed. "One without discipline or a hint of discretion. Reckless and bold—"

I came very close to smiling at that description. "I have to go after her all the same," I told Nidaba. "Joseph, leave your men to finish their meal. I'll fetch the girl back."

Joseph stopped speaking, studying me curiously and finally nodding. "Aye, the lassie would likely react better to you than to a dispatch of soldiers."

Nidaba sighed, shaking her head as if in disgust or exasperation with me. In silence I turned to do what I must to save another girl. Even though there was a part of me that didn't want to try ... for fear I might fail. Again.

Nidaba didn't try to stop me, but I could feel her disapproval following me all the way across the rutted courtyard to the gates.

Arianna had a head start on me. I could not follow her, so I went to the place I thought she would most likely go: her father's cottage. The village was dark this night. Silent. No light emerged from the saddle maker's cottage, but I saw a shadow moving through its plank door. Arianna. I went still as she stepped out again with a small pack slung over her shoulder.

Gods, she intended to leave then.

Pausing outside the doorway, she turned back, and in the glow of the waning moon, I thought I saw a shimmer of tears on her face. "I dinna know where you are this eve," she whispered. "But where e're you be, I hope you ken my love. I'm sorry, Mam. I wish things could've been different."

There was no reply. I'd assumed those inside to be

asleep, oblivious to what was happening without. But from Arianna's choked words, I discerned no one to be within the cottage. She hadn't even been allowed the luxury of saying a proper goodbye to her family. I cursed myself for being so cruel to Arianna and took a single step toward her, but she was already running again, fleeing into the night, heading toward the cemetery.

I sighed and stood still for a moment. Of course, she'd want to say goodbye to her sister as well. She would never leave Stonehaven without doing that. At least I knew where to find her.

I walked slowly, needing to collect my thoughts before I faced Arianna. I didn't know exactly what I was going to say to her when I found her. The wise thing, the
sane
thing for her to do, would be to obey Joseph and take a husband. Not me. Certainly not me, but one of Joseph's boys. They were both decent young men, and it was obvious either of them would be glad to have her as wife. It would solve all Arianna's problems. She could stay here, close to her family. The talk about her might go on, but not to such a dangerous degree. And certainly no one would dare to act on it.

And yet, some part of me rebelled at the thought of talking her into any of that. I couldn't imagine myself trying to convince her to marry either of the Lachlan lads.

So what options remained for her? Leave here, alone? Perhaps Nidaba would ...

My musings as well as my steps came to a halt as the sounds of distant shouts reached my ears. Frowning, I glanced in the direction from whence the noise seemed to come, and saw an eerie red-orange glow lighting the night. My throat went dry. "Good Gods, is that The Crones' cottage?" It had to be. It was.

I broke into a run, rounding a corner so that the cemetery came into view. Arianna was not there. "No," I whispered. "No, she mustn't...." Cupping my hands to my mouth I called, "Arianna! Arianna, come back!"

There was no reply. She must have seen the flames and headed out there. But she might not have heard the shouts,

as I did. My senses were honed, sharpened, beyond mortal limits. Hers were not. Nor would they be, until after she'd tasted death for the first time, and revived into something new. She wouldn't understand what she might be walking into.

I whispered a spell of protection, and then I ran.

A prickling sensation ran up the back of Arianna's neck as she stood over her sister's grave, whispering her goodbyes. She'd realized, almost as soon as she'd left Lachlan keep, that the laird had been right. She
wasn't
safe in Stonehaven. It wasn't the gossip and the speculation about her that worried her. It was her father, and Laird Lachlan, and Angus— all of them trying so hard to marry her off as fast as lightning. Well, she wouldn't have it. And if it took running away to ensure her freedom, then that was what she'd have to do.

She could have borne wedlock, she supposed, had it been with Nicodimus. He understood her. No one else ever had, nor, she suspected, ever would. But he'd made it all too clear how he felt about the notion of being burdened with her as his wife. So she had little choice remaining. She didn't know how she would make her way, or even where she would go. She only knew she would survive. She never had any doubt of that.

She had glanced up at the sky as she'd contemplated which direction to take, and had glimpsed the fiery glow in the distance. The Crones! Their cottage must be ablaze!

Fear for the three women clutched at her heart, and she dropped her sack to the ground and raced through the village—the oddly
silent
village. It occurred to her that it wasn't all that late. Darkness had fallen, but there ought still be people about or some signs of activity. It was strange. Her own family's cottage had been empty, and it looked as if all the others were, as well. But perhaps the villagers, too, had seen the flames, and had rushed off to help douse the fire.

Imagine that—the fearful and narrow-minded villagers rushing off to help the outcasts. Never! Nay, it must be

something else that had drawn everyone away this night.

Arianna's bare feet fell hard on the packed mud path through the village. She clutched a woven shawl around her shoulders to protect against the night's chill as she ran steadily. She could run like the wind. She'd always been proud of the fact, though she'd been told often enough 'twas unladylike to race with the boys ... and unwise to beat them. The long gown Nidaba had loaned her slowed her only until she gathered its skirts up to her knees and held them bunched there with one hand. The night breeze rushed over her face and whipped her hair behind her. Her lungs worked hard, her heart harder, but she pushed on. Perhaps the balefire had got away from The Crones, she thought. Perhaps it was only some brush burning and not the cottage. Perhaps they weren't even home, but out gathering herbs, or...

She rounded a bend, and came to an abrupt halt as The Crones' cottage came into view. It was ablaze, every inch of it, with hungry flames shooting to the heavens. She could feel the heat from where she stood. And... and people. Arianna's own clan, all of them standing around, just watching it burn, some carrying torches. What in the name of...

She moved forward slowly, a frown creasing her brows, her eyes scanning the crowd for some sign of the old women.

She found them, not amid the crowd, but dangling high above it. Her stomach lurched so forcefully she doubled over and fell to her knees, gagging.

Celia, Leandra, and Mary each hung suspended by ropes from the sturdy limb of the giant oak that had shaded their home by summer and protected it through the cold winter months. Their bodies were completely blackened, charred, smoldering still as they turned slowly in the light of the nearby fire.

Overcome by horror and nausea, Arianna could barely understand the people muttering. Something about a lamb being born with two heads, and how it was a sign. Something about Angus MacClennan, and Arianna's refusal to

wed him. Arianna knelt, heaving violently, shaking so hard she could barely remain on her knees.

Someone heard her retching and turned. "Tis Arianna Sinclair herself," a voice yelled. The voice was vaguely familiar, though she was certain she'd never heard it raised in such an ugly tone. "She's been seen with the Witches! Out alone, at all hours, day an' night. An' she dinna drown when her own sister did!"

"A Witch just like 'em, no doubt," shouted another. "Did you see what she did to young Angus's face?"

"Aye, and he said when he cut her she bled only loch water!"

Arianna weakly lifted her head. The crowd turned toward where she knelt, and slowly began to move forward. She knew she was in more danger than she had ever been, and her stomach clenched with icy fear.

"God in heaven, nay!"

It was her mother's voice. Arianna managed to lift her head a bit higher, saw her mother and her father battling their way through the crowd to reach her. Her mother leaned over her, smoothed a hand over her forehead, and threw her arms around Arianna while her father stood at her side.

"My daughter is innocent!" her father cried, dropping to one knee, gripping her shoulder.

"Arianna," her mother whispered. "We tried to stop this. We did, I swear it to you, but they wouldna listen."

"Innocents dinna walk about alone at night, Sinclair," a voice accused. "Perhaps Arianna should join the other Witches in hell!"