When Allegra had finished with her herbs, she glanced at the servant, studying her so carefully. “Where shall we begin, Mara?”
“A proper bath, if you please, my lady.”
“Aye. I think that can be arranged.” Removing her gown, Allegra settled herself into the warm water and sank down with a sigh of pure pleasure.
“I was given orders to wash your hair, my lady.” Mara stood several paces away, looking her over with disdain.
“Well, then.” Allegra struggled to hold back the uneasy tingle along her spine. Was this to be her reaction to all she met in this castle? “We wouldn’t want you to disobey an order, would we?” She deliberately closed her eyes and sank down into the water, soaking her hair before coming up for air. “You may begin washing, Mara.”
The servant worked up a lather and began scrubbing Allegra’s hair, carefully parting it as she did.
Allegra couldn’t resist saying, “Have you found them yet?”
“Found what?”
“The horns.”
The girl’s hands stilled and she jerked back. “H-horns, my lady?”
“Isn’t that what you were looking for, Mara?”
“Aye.”
Allegra’s laugh bubbled out, clear as a bell. “You need have no fear. There are no horns. Nor wings, I fear. I am neither saint nor sinner, but just a woman, the same as you.”
“The same as I?” The serving wench remained unconvinced. With a trace of annoyance she said, “Would you mind rinsing, my lady?”
Allegra sank beneath the water, shaking her hair until it was rinsed clean. As she stepped from the tub she could see the servant looking her over. It would seem that no amount of assurance would ease the girl’s mind until she saw for herself that the healer was, indeed, a mere woman.
Allegra stood in front of the fireplace while the servant helped her into a chemise and petticoats, stockings and kid slippers, and then into the gown. When she was dressed she sat on a low bench to allow the servant to brush her hair. It seemed an hour before Mara was satisfied.
Finally she led Allegra to a tall looking glass. “Here you are, my lady.”
Allegra was caught by surprise. Except for her reflection in the Enchanted Loch, she’d never seen herself as others saw her. Certainly not with such clarity.
She ran her hands down the skirt, then raised them to pat her hair. “Are you a witch, Mara?”
“My lady?”
Allegra gave a lilting laugh. “Surely you have magic in your hands. How else do you explain how you have turned a turnip into a rose?”
The girl’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “What a strange thing to say. Have you never before seen your own beauty?”
Allegra turned away. “I’ve no interest in how I look. My mother told me that the only thing that matters is what’s in our hearts.” She snatched up the bowl of crushed herbs. “Now I must go. I’ve wasted enough time on my own pleasures. It’s time to see how Hamish is faring.”
The servant reached for the bowl. “I can take that to him, my lady.”
Allegra paused. “Nay. I’ll see to it myself.”
With a scowl Mara draped the shawl around her shoulders as she started toward the door. “You’d best not tarry. The lord sups at dusk.”
“I’ll be there.” Allegra paused in the doorway. “I thank you, Mara.”
The servant looked stunned by her gratitude. Never before had anyone thanked her for doing her duty.
When the lady was gone the young servant picked up Allegra’s discarded gown and studied the golden threads, the fine, even stitches. Such fabric. As soft, as delicate as though spun by angels.
Or witches.
The thought had her going very still. She’d expected someone very different from the simple, friendly lass who displayed equal parts of wit and charm. But she would do well to remember that the lady she served was not like others. She would be clever and sly and quick of mind.
But then, she wasn’t the only one.
“So, Merrick. You survived the Mystical Kingdom.” A cluster of warriors stood by the fire, enjoying their ale.
“Aye.” Merrick glanced idly over the crowd that had begun gathering in the great room.
“Was it as we’d heard? Are there monsters in the loch, and wicked mists that can blind a man?”
“I saw no mists. But there was a dragon. And a dozen or more warriors.”
“Are you saying, without benefit of companions you slew a dragon as well as a dozen armed men?”
“I had no thought of my own safety. It was for Hamish. And, as you can see, I’m still standing.” He noted the number of women from the village, many of whom he hadn’t seen since burying his wife. “I see you’ve brought your ladies tonight.”
“Your cousins assured us it would be all right. Our women didn’t want to miss the chance to see a real witch,” one of the men said with a laugh.
Merrick frowned into his goblet. “I trust you’ll refrain from calling her that, Malcolm.”
The man ignored the thread of anger. “I hear she brought Hamish out of his sleep.”
“Aye.”
“And now he’s possessed.”
Merrick felt a sense of growing agitation. “He merely fell in the garden.”
“We heard that he took a fit.”
“The lad is still weak and...” Merrick’s voice trailed off when he caught sight of Allegra standing in the doorway. For a moment all he could see was the proud lift of her head as she surveyed the crowd. Her hair had been dressed with ribbons and pulled to one side, spilling over her breast. Her gown, the color of heather, seemed to add a pretty blush to her cheeks.
Standing beside her was Hamish, looking absolutely terrified as he held firmly to her hand.
Mordred followed the direction of Merrick’s gaze and sneered. “Has the witch snatched your voice, cousin?”
Merrick ignored his cousin’s taunts and crossed the room in quick strides, scooping his son into his arms. “Are you feeling strong enough to sup, lad?”
“Aye, Father. The healer told me I’ve been sleeping most of the day. Now I’m feeling rested.”
“I’m glad, Hamish.” Merrick brushed a kiss on his son’s cheek before turning to Allegra. “I see Mistress MacDonald found something for you to wear.”
“Aye. My compliments. It was a most clever plan.”
“A clever plan?” His smile evaporated. “I fear I don’t understand.”
Allegra surveyed the women, whispering behind their hands, and the men, staring at her with open curiosity. “I see now why you insisted that I join you in the great room, my lord.”
“You do?”
“Aye. I should have realized what you had in mind.” She lifted her head higher, and straightened her spine. “I can see by the eager looks on your guests’ faces that I’m to be the evening’s entertainment.”
Chapter Eight
Merrick’s puzzled frown became a scowl. “Woman, you’re mistaken. It’s not as it appears...” Before he could finish, his housekeeper rushed up to announce in a breathless voice that everyone should take their places at table so the wenches could commence serving.
“I know how ye insist upon supping exactly at dusk, m’lord.” Seeing him in the doorway, the old woman flashed him a brilliant smile. “Are ye not pleased to see the lad up and about?”
Merrick swallowed back his hiss of frustration at the old woman’s untimely arrival. He certainly didn’t owe the healer an explanation. “Aye, Mistress MacDonald”
“Well, then, m’lord, if ye’ll take the seat of honor, we’ll begin the meal.” The housekeeper added, with a trace of pride, “I think ye’ll agree that Cook has outdone herself tonight, in honor of the lad’s return to us from his sleep.”
As Merrick led his son between the tables, he could hear the whispers and muffled laughter, aimed at the woman who trailed behind. There was an almost palpable sense of fear and excitement rippling through the crowd.
“Do you think she’ll
cast a spell?”
“Perhaps she’ll turn you into a toad, Duncan.” That elicited much laughter.
Two village women, known for their love of gossip, giggled behind their hands.
“She doesn’t look like a witch.”
“What does a witch look like? Have you ever seen one, Lissa?”
“Nay. But she moves like a witch. See? Without any effort. As though floating.”
“Aye. And look at her hands, the fingers long and tapered. With but a snap of those fingers, she can conjure images, dark and frightening.”
“And why not? Witches are in league with the devil.”
Merrick understood their mutterings, for wasn’t he guilty of the same foolish fears? But so many of his notions had been vanquished once he’d met the woman beneath the myth. Still, it galled him to know that she was subjected to such cruel treatment from his own people. Whether driven by fear or ignorance, they had to understand that their words were hurtful to the one who heard them.
When he reached the head table, Mordred and Desmond were already waiting. Though they greeted Hamish with enthusiasm, they were restrained in their approach to the woman. It would seem that they, too, had their reservations about her.
Instead of taking his place at table, Merrick motioned for silence. At once the room fell deathly still. The servants paused in their work and looked up at their lord in surprise.
“It is gratifying to see so many friends who’ve come here tonight to celebrate the return of my son from the brink of death. As you can see, he’s as he was before his fall.” Merrick deposited the lad on a wooden bench beside Allegra. “It pleases me, too, that you come to give thanks to the one who healed him.”
He took his place on the other side of his son, then motioned for the servants to continue passing platters of food and filling goblets. At once the guests bent close, for now there was more to speculate about. The room was abuzz with the fact that the lord had publicly thanked the witch.
“Do you think she’s bewitched him?”
“And why not? It’s what you’d expect from the likes of her.”
“She’s dangerous, I tell you.” An old woman studied the way Allegra was smiling down at Hamish, and laid her hand on the arm of her husband seated beside her. “Mind, now. Don’t look her in the eye, Rupert. She’ll steal your will.”
The old man winked at his neighbor, seated across the table. “I might be more than willing to do her bidding, as long as she’d turn that sweet smile on me.
“I was thinking much the same,” his neighbor said with a laugh. “The witch is easy on the eye.” While the two men shared a grin, their wives watched Allegra as one might watch a predator poised to attack.
One of them whispered, “For all we know, she could be an old hag who’s taken on the guise of a beautiful young maiden in order to charm unwitting victims.”
“If that be a hag,” her husband replied in a voice that carried the length of the table, “I’d willingly be turned into an ancient, toothless old grandfather.” That had every man laughing, and every woman glowering.
“So, Hamish.” Mordred sipped his ale and looked across the table at his nephew. “You’re feeling rested?”
“Aye.” The lad beamed a smile at his father. “I gave Mistress MacDonald my word that I’d eat more than I did this morrow when I broke my fast. She said I hadn’t eaten enough to keep a bird alive.”
“It takes a while for the appetite to sharpen after being ill.” Merrick returned his son’s smile. “Give it time, lad.”
“But it’s already returned, Father.” Hamish turned to Allegra. “The potion you gave me has made me hungry.”
“That’s good.” She closed a hand over his. “Potion?” Merrick’s eyes narrowed. His hand holding the goblet paused halfway to his mouth, causing some of the ale to slosh over the rim. He took no notice.
Allegra shrugged. “Merely some crushed herbs.”
“Such as?” Merrick’s voice frosted over. Though Allegra was aware of the sudden mood shift and the keen interest of the others at the table, she kept her voice level. “Feverfew. Mint. Chamomile. All are restorative and soothing, and should allow Hamish to sleep this night without dreams.” While she spoke, Allegra accepted a joint of fowl from a servant and cut off several pieces, placing them in the lad’s trencher, along with an assortment of greens.
Mordred watched as his nephew ate every morsel. “I’d be careful if I were you, lad. After such a long time without food, you’re apt to make yourself sick with all that.”
“Should I worry, healer?” Hamish watched hungrily as Allegra filled his trencher again.
“Nay, Hamish. We’ll not overdo it. But you need food to restore your strength.”
Several times she cut pieces of fowl, and each time he ate all she gave him.
Finally he turned to her with a knowing smile. “Now may I have my reward?”
“You may indeed.” She broke a biscuit in half and drizzled honey over the pieces, before offering them to him.
While he eagerly popped the first into his mouth, Merrick glanced over his head to say accusingly, “You bribed him with honey?”
Allegra merely smiled. “Where’s the harm, my lord?”
Merrick’s brows drew together in thought. “How is it you knew Hamish loved honey drizzled over his biscuits?”
Allegra looked down at her food, avoiding his eyes, for she was no good at deception. “Don’t all little boys love sweets, my lord?”
Merrick nodded grudgingly and began to eat, though it was now his turn to have little appetite. He had no choice but to trust the woman. But it gave him no peace of mind. For the truth was, despite her knowledge of herbs and potions, and the fact that she’d already brought Hamish back from the brink of death, he was put off by the ease with which she slipped from a normal demeanor into witchery. She’d read the lad’s mind. He’d lay gold on it. She probably knew things about him that even Merrick didn’t know.
It galled him, but he had no defense against it, since he needed her so desperately.
Needed her.
It stuck like a stone in his throat to need anyone, but especially this witch.
As the silence stretched between them, Allegra felt a chill. There it was again. It was here. Close by. Possibly at this very table. The darkness. The evil. She glanced over to see Merrick glowering at her while Mara served his food.
Hearing the buzz of gossip around them, Mordred smiled at the young woman across the table. “What do you think of Berkshire Castle? Have you ever seen anything so grand?”
She pulled herself out of her dark thoughts, determined to remain cheerful if it killed her. “It seems grand, though I’ve had little chance to see more than Hamish’s chambers and my own.”
“I’m sure in the days to come you’ll see all of it, and the village, as well.” He glanced at his cousin, lowering his voice. “There are rumors that England’s new queen will end up in the Tower like her mother.”
Allegra shook her head. “Though I can sense Elizabeth living a long time, such things matter not to those of us who live in the Mystical Kingdom Our isolation protects us from the world beyond our borders.”
Merrick’s tone deepened. “You’ll rue such innocence if the English should ever decide to invade your peaceful kingdom, my lady.”
“And why would they do that? We have nothing anyone would want.”
He glanced at Mordred, who was staring at her with a look of disbelief. “If you think that, you’re more innocent than you appear. Barbarians need have no reason to invade, other than the sheer pleasure they get from killing those weaker than themselves.”
Allegra paled. “I have heard of men who kill for the pleasure of it. They carry a darkness in their souls.”
Merrick looked out across the sea of faces in the great hall. “I wonder, my lady, what you would say to all the men in this room who have taken another’s life on the field of battle. For myself, there are too many to count. Should I be judged harshl
y for that?”
She chose her words carefully, aware that his young son was listening. Her tone gentled. “You are a warrior, my lord. Yours is a noble calling, for you willingly risk your own life to protect the innocent.”
Mordred chuckled. “What if my cousin takes pleasure in the killing?”
She saw Merrick’s eyes darken with sudden anger. But the question, now asked, hung between them.
Very deliberately she forced herself to look into the darkness in the lord’s eyes. What she saw brought a sense of relief. “No matter what others think, you do what you must out of a sense of honor.”
Mordred arched a brow. “You speak as though you know my cousin.”
“Nay. We are little more than strangers. But some things are impossible to hide.”
“What things?” Mordred demanded.
She looked up. And felt a shudder pass through her. Why did she feel such unpleasant sensations with Merrick’s own kin?
“I ask again.” Mordred’s tone was pure ice. “What things are impossible to hide?”
Allegra took a moment to compose herself before saying, “A pure heart and an evil one.”
“And you claim to see into a man’s heart?”
“I make no claims.”
After that, though the others at table made several attempts, their conversation was strained.
Allegra was relieved when, a short time later, Mordred said, “Come, Desmond. It’s time we mingled with our cousin’s guests.”
Allegra watched the two brothers walk away, Mordred in the lead, Desmond, towering over him, following like a docile child. Soon they were swallowed up by the crowd, which, after many goblets of their host’s fine ale, had grown increasingly vocal.
A little later Allegra looked up to see Mordred approach the lord’s table, trailed by a cluster of men and their ladies.
He made a slight bow before Allegra. “There are several in our midst with ailments, my lady. They beg a favor of you.”
Merrick frowned. “The lady is my guest, Mordred. I expected better of you. I’ll not have you making sport of her.”
Mordred’s expression never changed, though his eyes darkened with unspoken anger. “My request is sincere, cousin. And the lady is, after all, a healer.” He turned to Allegra. “Would you not be remiss if you left these good people to suffer needlessly?” She could see the challenge in his eyes, and wished she could flee his trap. Because of the goodness in her heart, she tried to see the same in others. Perhaps this man didn’t know what he was asking. Though he thought to entertain himself and others, Mordred couldn’t know the price she would have to pay for his little game. Nor, apparently, did he care.