The Betrayal (11 page)

“C
ome, my lady.” Ardis led the way across the room, where a number of garments had been arranged. “It is time to prepare for the feast.”

After helping Kylia into an embroidered chemise of softest lawn, and several petticoats, Ardis pointed to the row of gowns. “What is your pleasure, my lady?”

Kylia sighed. “So many lovely things. Who provided all this?”

“My lord MacCallum.” The servant dimpled. “He asked the village seamstresses to bring their wares, in the hope that some would fit you. Some may be too long, or too wide, but I will find a way to hide the imperfections.”

“You’re clever with needle and thread, Ardis?”

“Aye, my lady.”

“As is my own mother. I was the bane of her existence because I could never master the art of sewing.” Kylia pointed to a simple white gown. “I believe this one will do nicely.”

The servant helped her into the dress, pleased to see that it needed nothing more than a sash to make it fit the lady’s tiny waist. When Kylia was dressed, Ardis brushed her waist-length hair until it gleamed like a raven’s wing in the firelight.

After draping a shawl of white wool, across her shoulders, the servant beckoned. “Now, my lady, I will lead you to the great hall.”

“Thank you.” Kylia lifted the bundled pup into the crook of her arm before following.

Ardis avoided her eyes. “I hope you won’t take offense, my lady.”

“At what, Ardis?”

“I don’t believe the lady Hazlet will approve of an animal at table.”

“Ah.” Kylia glanced down at her tiny bundle. “Perhaps no one will notice. For he eats very little.”

The young wench swallowed whatever else
she was about to say and offered no further advice.

As they descended the stairs, Kylia surveyed the great hall. “Everything is so clean and fresh. Mistress Gunn is to be admired.”

“Aye. The lady Hazlet will not permit anything less than perfection in herself and those who serve her. She believes that Duncrune Castle must be worthy of the MacCallum clan, and to that end she oversees everything that Mistress Gunn and the household staff undertake.”

“Perfection.” Kylia seemed to mull that a moment. “I suppose it is what we all strive for, but few achieve it.”

“The lady Hazlet comes closer than anyone, my lady.”

“Does the lady Hazlet always dress like a nun?”

“Aye. ’Tis said that when she heard the news of Ranald’s death, she donned the headdress and veil, and has worn it ever since. She lives a cloistered existence, leaving the fortress only to walk the gardens, where she prays. She has not once visited the village of Duncrune since the day the bodies of her brother and Ranald were
brought home for burial. Each day she visits their tombs in the catacombs which lie beneath the chapel. She has said that her life without Ranald must be spent in prayer for his eternal soul.”

Kylia found herself moved to pity the woman who bore such grief alone. Now she was more convinced than ever that she must share the contents of her dream with Hazlet, in order to ease her pain.

Outside the doors of the great hall, the young servant paused and focused once more on the wolf pup in her arms.

In a low voice she whispered, “You’d be wise not to offend the lady Hazlet. For she wields great power.”

“Aye. I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you, Ardis.” Kylia paused, then with a sigh, handed over her bundle. “You’re right, of course. See that he’s given a few small morsels of meat and a bit of water, and is confined to my chambers until I return.”

“Aye, my lady.” Relieved, Ardis took the pup from her hands and scurried away, as though eager to escape.

Kylia stepped inside the hall and was surprised at the number of men and ladies milling about, while servants threaded their way among the throngs, offering goblets of wine and ale. It would seem that the entire village and the surrounding hamlets must be empty of citizens this night. Again, Kylia thought, it was proof of how much the people loved their lord and wished to celebrate his safe return.

The minute Grant spotted Kylia he excused himself from those around him and hurried to her side.

His smile deepened. What a pretty picture she made, in the simple white gown and shawl, with her hair falling in soft waves to her waist. Just the sight of her had his heart growing lighter.

“My lady.” He caught her hand and lifted it to his lips. “Were you able to rest?”

“Aye. And you?”

He shook his head. “I’d hoped to come to you in your chambers.” In truth, he’d wanted desperately to be alone with her for just a few moments. He sighed. “But there was no time. There was much to discuss with my brother and aunt, before meeting with the Council.”

Kylia thought she detected a flicker of weariness in his eyes, but before she could offer a word of comfort she found herself immediately surrounded by curious onlookers.

Grant called for silence before saying, “May I present the lady Kylia, of the clan Drummond.” The note of affection in his voice had many in the crowd straining to see this mysterious stranger.

A tall, dark-haired warrior stepped forward. “I am Culver, cousin to Hazlet. My mother and hers were first cousins.”

“Culver.” Kylia smiled as he took her hand in his.

He lifted it to his lips. “My cousin tells me you are from the Mystical Kingdom.”

“Aye. That is my home.”

He seemed surprised by her easy acknowledgment. “It’s true then, that you are a witch?”

Many in the crowd gasped at his utterance. Though many had whispered about her behind their hands, none would have dared speak the word aloud.

Before she could respond, a red-bearded giant
pushed his way toward her and caught her hand in his, lifting it to his lips. “The clan Drummond, you say?” His booming voice carried clearly over the other voices in the room. “’Tis an ancient, noble clan indeed, with a proud heritage.”

Kylia gave him a grateful smile. “I know not your name, sir.”

“Lord Giles MacCallum. Though our land lies on the far banks of the loch, we have fought side by side with our cousins since the days of Stirling MacCallum, to keep our Highlands free of barbarians.”

“You knew the lord’s father?”

“Aye. And his friend, Ranald.”

At the mention of that name, Hazlet crossed herself and turned away, causing many in the room to pity her.

“It’s time we partook of the feast prepared by Mistress Gunn and our cook, Mester. Come, my lady.” Grant offered his arm and Kylia placed a hand on his sleeve. He turned to the older man. “Giles, you’ll join us at table?”

“Aye, my friend. I’d like nothing better than to get to know this lovely lady better.” The old
warrior offered his arm to Hazlet. “Will you do me the honor, my lady?”

“Nay.” She shrank from his touch and turned away. “I must first see to the servants. But I’ll be along shortly.”

“A pity your aunt can’t enjoy herself as other women do.” Lord Giles MacCallum dropped an arm around Dougal’s shoulders and the two followed Grant and Kylia through the crowd until they’d reached the head table.

Grant took the place of honor at one end of the long table, with his man-at-arms Finlay at the other end. Kylia on his left and his brother on his right. Lord Giles eagerly sat on the other side of Kylia and immediately engaged her in conversation. By the time Hazlet arrived, trailed by her cousin Culver, the servants had begun making their way to the tables with trays of pheasant, salmon and mutton, along with baskets of bread and goblets of ale.

Hazlet took her place beside Dougal and fell silent, bowing her head until the others at table followed suit. Though she spoke no words aloud, her lips moved and the others waited respectfully until she lifted her head and accepted food from a servant.

“Now.” Giles leaned toward Kylia. “I must hear all about your Mystical Kingdom, for I’ve heard the stories since I was but a lad.”

“What did you hear, my lord?” Kylia helped herself to a piece of fish.

“About dragons and monsters and all manner of fearsome guardians of your kingdom.”

“That much is true, my friend.” Grant sipped his ale. “For I first had to slay the dragon before crossing the Enchanted Loch.”

“Is it enchanted?” Giles arched a brow.

“It would seem so. I saw water that not only sparkled like diamonds, but was filled with the precious stones. And then rubies, as the dragon’s blood was spilled into it.”

“A trick of the mind.” Hazlet’s eyes narrowed with indignation.

“I know what I saw, Aunt.” Grant thought about the jewels he carried in a tiny pouch in his tunic. Though they would prove the truth of his words, he was reluctant to share them with others, for they were special to him.

He turned to Giles. “I was so weak I should have drowned, but the water refused to let me sink. Instead I was allowed to drift until I
reached the far shore, where I fell at the lady’s feet.”

The others around the table were silent, watching and listening. Most were fascinated by all they heard.

“What other amazing things did you see, my lord?” Culver glanced at Kylia. “We wish to hear everything.”

Grant deliberately refrained from any mention of the fairies and winged horses, knowing there were some who might be willing to risk the fierce guardians of the Mystical Kingdom in order to steal such treasures. This world was filled with unscrupulous men who would use such innocent creatures for their own gain. Likewise he made no mention of their experience in the Forest of Darkness. It was, like the dragons and monsters, a barrier that stood between his world and Kylia’s. He did, however, recount their harrowing encounter with the barbarians, and Kylia’s courage.

All who heard were amazed that this lovely, gentle woman could reveal such strength of purpose.

“Were you not afraid, my lady?” Giles tugged on his beard.

“I was. But I was even more afraid of doing nothing, for that would surely have doomed us both.”

“You should have seen her.” Grant described the way Kylia controlled the barbarians with lifted arms, until the two of them were able to make their escape. “The lady was magnificent.”

As his narrative continued, Hazlet’s frown deepened, revealing just how repulsed she was by the images conjured by her nephew’s tale.

“Dragons. Monsters. What nonsense. It is obvious you were under a spell, nephew, for we all know such things do not exist.”

“Perhaps not in our world, Aunt, but I saw them with my own eyes.” He turned to wink at Kylia. “I saw other things too amazing to speak of, for you’d then swear I was daft.”

While the others laughed, Hazlet pursed her lips. “Perhaps you are still under a spell, nephew.”

Giles made an attempt to lighten the older woman’s mood. “And why not? When a young, healthy warrior meets a maiden as lovely as this, how can he help but fall under her spell? I be
lieve I’ve fallen as well, my lady, though I’m well past my prime.”

Hazlet got to her feet. “Such ribald remarks are beneath you, Giles, and insult me, since you know I tolerate no levity concerning the baser instincts.”

“Please, Aunt. You know Giles meant no harm.” Dougal attempted to lay a hand on her arm, but she pushed it aside.

“You would take up sides with these others?”

“Aunt, I was merely…”

She lifted a hand to silence him. “I know how easy it is for a man to be led astray by a coarse woman. But I’d hoped those who bear the name of MacCallum were better than most.” Her gaze swept those at table, pausing to linger on Kylia before moving on to Grant, and then to Dougal. “It would seem I was wrong.”

She turned away and walked from the great hall, looking for all the world like a queen among peasants.

As soon as she took her leave, the room was abuzz with speculation about the lord’s unwelcome houseguest, and the lady who was the acknowledged mistress of Duncrune Castle.

Grant leaned close to Kylia. “I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive my aunt. She labors under a heavy heart.”

Overhearing, Giles gave a grunt of displeasure. “Aye, and woe to anyone who tries to forget it. The lady not only suffers her grief, she embraces it. Welcomes it. Wears it, along with her nun’s habit, to keep it fresh in her mind and ours.”

“Giles…” Grant shook his head, but it was too late.

The old man’s words had Dougal getting to his feet to defend the object of his scorn. “Though it may be true that our aunt grieves, who’s to say when a broken heart will heal? Her pain is real, Giles, and I hope you will be gentleman enough to retract your accusation here and now.”

The older man nodded. “Forgive me, Dougal.” He turned to his host. “And you, my lord. It was not my intention to disparage your beloved aunt.”

Satisfied, Dougal took his seat.

Culver pushed away from the table and bowed to Grant. “Your brother is right, my
lord. Your aunt must be feeling abandoned by all who love her. By your leave, I’ll go after her and keep her company, so that we don’t add to her grief.”

“That’s kind of you, cousin.” Grant nodded his approval. “You’re excused, Culver.”

As he walked from the room they returned their attention to their meal. Soon, with the help of Giles’s gentle teasing, they were once again laughing among themselves and sharing tales of battles and adventures.

As the conversation swirled around her, Kylia thought about what Giles had said. Could Hazlet not see that her expressions of grief were creating a chasm between her and those who loved her?

She realized with a trace of sadness that Hazlet’s absence brought a sense of relief to everyone in this hall. Without her dour countenance they could enjoy the levity of this happy occasion without guilt.

A
s the night wore on and the ale flowed, the guests became more raucous. It was impossible to take more than a bite of salmon or taste of mutton before pausing for another speech and an emptying of goblets, only to have them filled once more by passing servants.

Though Hazlet never returned, her friend and cousin, Culver, moved through the crowd, head bent in earnest conversation with many of the men from the village.

“M’laird.” A bleary-eyed warrior shuffled to his feet. “It’s come to my attention that ye left yer people without protection for many days while ye were off fetching the lady seated at yer table.”

Grant nodded. “Aye. My journey took many days. But the lady kindly offered to accompany me to my home to lend her services.”

“And what would those services be?”

At his coarse suggestion, the crowd fell silent.

Anger flared in Grant’s eyes, though he managed to bank it. “The lady has the gift of healing and sight.”

“A witch,” someone muttered aloud.

“How do we know ye aren’t under her spell?” another shouted.

“Aye.” A barrel-chested warrior got to his feet and tossed aside his goblet. “How do we even know yer the same man who left Duncrune Castle all those days ago? If ye’re in the company of a witch, how do we trust that ye’ll still protect us? I say we should choose another laird from among those present. One whose mind isn’t clouded by witchcraft.”

The bleary-eyed warrior took up the challenge. “If yer father were alive, Grant MacCallum, we’d have no such decision to make. Now there was a man who knew how to fight his enemies.”

“Aye.” A shout went up that nearly shook the rafters.

“We deserve a laird who can make us all proud as well.” The warrior’s voice trembled with emotion.

The men and their ladies drank, then pounded their cups on the wooden tables to attract the attention of the harried servants.

“We demand an answer, m’laird.” The warrior’s voice was roughened by ale and anger. “Did ye tarry along the way with the witch? Is that why ye left yer people so long without protection?”

“You desire an answer?” When Grant’s hand went to the sword at his hip Kylia closed a hand over his.

Her voice was a low, quiet plea. “This isn’t the way, my love.”

“It’s the only answer I’ll give them. If they choose to turn against you, they turn against me, as…”

His words faded as a group of strangers strode into the great hall. At the sight of them, the crowd fell silent.

“I come seeking Laird Grant MacCallum.” The booming voice of the leader carried to the rafters of the hall.

Grant stepped closer. “I am the man you seek.”

The leader extended his hand. “I am Burke, laird of the clan Kerr. I was off in battle with an army of barbarians, and have only now learned that you and the lovely lady Kylia saved the life of my son, Ewald, and his wife and family. Had it not been for your kindness, I now know that they would have perished at the hands of the thieves who raided their flock and burned their cottage. My people told me of your goodness, and that of your lady. How the two of you stayed, without sleep or shelter, protecting them and their flock until my son was strong enough to be returned to his village. Even then you didn’t abandon him, but accompanied him home before taking up your journey once more.”

He turned and directed his men to step forward, bearing one cask of ale, and another of gold.

Grant couldn’t hide his astonishment. “You are too generous, Burke of the clan Kerr.”

“No more than you, my laird. For my son and his family are more precious to me than gold.” He looked beyond Grant to where Kylia watched in silence. “Is this your lady?”

“The lady Kylia of the clan Drummond.”

“Drummond?” Burke’s smile widened. “Your clan is ancient and noble, my lady. I have heard of your healing powers, and I am grateful.” He lifted her hand to his lips. Then he turned to Grant. “In gratitude for your kindness, I pledge my loyalty, and that of my warriors. Should you find your land under siege, you need only send word and we will come with all haste.”

He turned and, flanked by his warriors, began to withdraw.

“Wait.” Grant extended his hands. “Stay and refresh yourselves.”

The older man shook his head. “These are dangerous times in our Highlands. There are invaders everywhere. I dare not leave my clan without my protection.”

With that he strode from the hall.

In the stunned silence that followed, Dougal stood and faced the crowd. “Let this be an answer to any questions that linger. There can be no doubt that Grant MacCallum is the finest, noblest laird in the Highlands, for he risked his own life for that of a stranger in need. But be
sides being a noble laird, there’s also no finer brother in the Highlands than mine.” He raised his goblet. “To my brother. My laird.” He drained his ale before adding, “I pledge my heart and my sword.”

“As do I, lad.” Giles stood and raised his sword to the ceiling.

“As do I.” Finlay, looking grave, added his voice.

“Highlanders proud and free.” The men, caught up in the spirit of the moment, leaped up shouting the words over and over. Soon their women were standing as well, adding their voices to the chorus.

Grant looked over at Kylia and saw the glimmer of tears on her lashes. He caught her hand and drew her up beside him before brushing a kiss to her palm. “Why do you weep, my lady?”

“I worried over you, my lord. And yet what I hear now tells me that your people have great affection for their laird.”

He continued holding her hand in his as he acknowledged the cheers of his people. Then, as they finally took their seats, he leaned close to
whisper, “I can’t allow myself to forget that there is one among them who would betray me. And, despite the will of the people, there is the Council to consider.”

“The morrow is soon enough to think about that, my lord.” She smiled up at him, her tears forgotten. “Tonight you should enjoy the fruits of your labors. For you have returned to the bosom of your people, and they will sustain you through whatever trials are to come.”

Grant threw back his head and laughed. A rich, warm sound that wrapped itself around her heart. “How have I lived so long without your sweet goodness, my lady? You almost make me believe that you can soften even the most hardened of hearts.”

She touched a hand to his. “Believe it, my lord.”

As they returned their attention to the feast, the others at the table found themselves watching these two handsome young people, aware that their relationship was much more than that of two friends. For the love that gleamed in their eyes was impossible to hide.

The challenge boldly tossed by one warrior
was now on the minds of all. Had their laird lost his heart to a witch?

Grant stood by the doors of the great hall, bidding his guests good-night. Servants scurried about fetching cloaks and shawls, while Gresham and the stable lads woke grooms who’d fallen asleep after finishing their pints behind the stables.

Those warriors who could still sit a horse were helped into their saddles, while the rest climbed into the backs of wagons and carts for the ride back to the village with their ladies.

Throughout all the commotion, Grant was aware of Kylia standing in front of the fireplace, talking softly to Dougal, Finlay and Lord Giles. The sight of her, so calm and serene amid the chaos, did strange things to his heart.

“I bid you good-night, cousin.” Culver accepted a cloak from a servant and started away.

Grant laid a hand on his sleeve. “How is my aunt?”

“She is calmer of mind now. A servant brought us a meal, and afterward she visited Ranald’s tomb to pray. I believe she regrets her display of emotion, cousin.”

Grant nodded. “Will I see you on the morrow?”

“Aye, for Hazlet has asked me to break the fast with her.”

“You are welcome at my table, Culver.”

“I thank you, cousin.” The man turned away and strode out the door to the courtyard.

Minutes later Grant joined the others by the fire. “Will you stay the night, Giles?”

The older man shook his head. “I have business in the village. But I’ll return on the morrow, for we have much to discuss with the Council before I leave for my home.” He offered his hand to Grant, and then to Dougal and Finlay, before turning to Kylia. “My lady, I am honored to meet you.”

“And I you, Lord Giles.”

He lifted her hand to his lips before taking his leave.

Kylia climbed the stairs between Grant and Dougal, who accompanied her to the door of her chambers, where she was greeted by Ardis.

“Good night, my lady.” Grant bowed formally over her hand before lifting it to his lips.

His brother did the same. “Good night, Kylia.
I can’t wait to hear more about your kingdom on the morrow.”

When they were gone, Kylia walked to her sleeping chambers and slipped the shawl from her shoulders.

“You must be weary, Ardis.”

“Nay, my lady. Whenever there is a feast here at Duncrune Castle, I get the chance to visit with my kin from the village.”

“Are there many?” Kylia stepped out of her gown and petticoats and accepted the nightdress of softest lawn.

“Aye. My mother was one of seven, my lady. And my father the eldest of five. After the guests are fed, we gather in the refectory to eat and talk endlessly until we catch up with all the news of our families.”

Kylia found herself smiling at the image. “That sounds like such a grand time. Whenever my sisters and I get together, we never seem to run out of things to talk about.”

“Aye. It is the same with us. Will I help you into your pallet before I leave?”

“Nay, Ardis. I’ll see myself off to my bed in a few moments.”

“Then I’ll say good-night, my lady” Ardis picked up one of the candles and made her way out.

When the door to the chambers closed behind the servant, Kylia walked barefoot to the balcony to watch the clouds drifting across the star-studded sky.

It soothed her to know that those same stars were winking over the Mystical Kingdom.

“Are you watching, Mum? Are you missing me as I’m missing you?”

The light of one star seemed to grow brighter than all the rest, and Kylia watched as it began to dance in the night sky. It lasted for only a few moments, before the star returned to its place in the heavens, and its light gradually dimmed. But when it was over, Kylia found herself smiling.

“Thank you, Mum. I don’t feel quite as lonely now.”

She turned and was startled by a tall, shadowy figure behind her. She covered her mouth with her hand to stifle the little cry that sprang to her throat, then slowly let out a sigh of relief. “Grant. You startled me.”

“Forgive me, my lady. I wanted to be certain your servant was gone before showing myself.”

“You shouldn’t be here. Surely someone will see you, and by morning we will be the talk of the castle.”

“Trust me, my lady, we are already the talk of, not only the castle, but the entire village of Duncrune. Do you mind?”

She shook her head and the dark silk of her curls drifted like a veil around her shoulders. “Not for my sake. But for your sake, you should leave, Grant. After all, you are laird of the castle.”

“And as laird, I choose to be here with you.” He reached out a hand to her hair and watched as the strands sifted through his fingers. “All night I wanted this. Only this.” He took her hand and placed it over his heart. “Feel what you do to my poor heart.”

“It’s thundering.”

“Aye.” He looked into her eyes before drawing her close and brushing her mouth with his. “The need for you is such, my lady, that I couldn’t bear the thought of sleeping alone.”

He kissed her long and slow and deep, until
she sighed and wrapped her arms around his neck, giving herself up to the pleasure.

It was what she wanted, as well. Just this. To be held in this man’s arms. To feel treasured above all else. To be loved until they were both sated.

“My people were charmed by you, Kylia.” He ran soft kisses across her temple to her cheek. “My brother Dougal could hardly contain his excitement at meeting you.” He pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose. “It was clear that Finlay and Giles were enchanted by you.”

She moved until her mouth found his, hungry for more of his kisses. “And their laird?”

“Has lost his heart to you completely, my lady.”

They came together in a kiss so hot, so hungry, the very air around them seemed charged with energy.

“So.” The sound of Hazlet’s voice had their heads coming up sharply. “This is how the laird of Duncrune Castle behaves when in the company of a witch.”

Kylia started to step away when Grant’s hand on her shoulder stopped her. Holding her close, he looked over. “You are intruding, Aunt.”

“I can see that, for I have eyes. But it seems my nephew has been blinded by witchcraft.”

“I prefer to call it love.” His tone was soft, but there was no denying the barely controlled anger that lay beneath.

“Do not debase the word with such as I have just witnessed, nephew. Love is only true when blessed by the sacraments, and witnessed by a man of the church. What you and this witch share is coarse and base, and mocks everything that is good and decent.”

Grant heard Kylia’s little intake of breath and absorbed her pain to his own heart. With an oath he set her behind him before advancing toward his aunt. “You will leave these chambers, never to return. Do you understand me?”

“You need not bar me, for I have no desire to see this woman, or speak to her again. She is a vulgar woman who is leading you down a path of destruction, nephew. Fool that you are, you are so blinded by her beauty, you fail to see the evil that lurks in her heart.”

As she turned away, Kylia hurried across the room to bar her exit from the room. “Wait, Lady Hazlet, for there is something I must tell you.”

The older woman shoved her aside and flung open the door. On the threshold she turned. Though it was impossible to see her eyes through the ever-present veil, the venom in her voice was plain enough. “You are dead to me. As is my nephew. I will hear no evil words from your lips. Nor will I acknowledge you in any way.”