Page 45 of A Laird and a Gentleman

Thea . . . Kendric hoped his sister had escaped influenza’s virulent hand. He’d sent her to their grandmother’s house, along the shores of Aberlady. She’d left before anyone in the village had fallen ill. Thea had to be all right. And when he was free of the illness, he would make certain she thrived despite the fact he had forced her to betrayal her mistress.

Kendric reached up and wiped the sticky, ash-coated sweat from his brow, forcing himself to keep moving forward. They reached the approach to the drawbridge when Kendric saw a dark shape ahead. As they moved closer, he saw the faint outline of a body lying prone on the ground. As they drew closer, it appeared to be Mariam. He shuffled faster until he reached her side. She was a heap of green wool and bright red hair, with one arm pinned to her side, and the other stretched out over her head. Heart pounding, he bent down and rolled her onto her back.

Mariam’s face was colorless. Fear lodged in his throat. Was she already dead?

He shook Mariam as the other men gathered around him, watching. “Wake up, Witch.”

Her eyelids fluttered, then opened. She stared at him for a long moment before recognition flared in the depths of her eyes. “Kendric?”

Relief rushed through him. She could still heal them. “Get up. We need yer help.”

Ash clung to her cheeks and her eyelashes as she slowly sat and looked at those gathered close. In her eyes, Kendric saw aching despair. He turned his head, ignoring the emotion. She was only trying to gain his sympathy to save her own life. He stood on shaky legs.

“You are all ill, aren’t you?” Mariam frowned.

The village blacksmith Angus and four other men who had been spared from the illness so far, stepped close to the witch, forming a circle around Mariam. “Use yer magic tae heal us,” he demanded.

“Take back this plague ye have brought upon us,” Kendric added, before a rattling cough took hold.

“I do not have that ability,” Mariam said, as she gained her feet. “But I do know who can. There is a healer inside Ravenscraig’s great hall. She has restored nearly everyone to health since she arrived. She will help you too. Come.” Mariam took a tentative step within the circle in the direction of the drawbridge. “Let me take you there.”

The men did not move. Instead, they looked from one to the other as though deciding how to proceed. Finally, Angus narrowed his gaze. “If ye will na help us then what good are ye?”

“I said I would help you, but not with magic. I am not a witch.”

Laughter broke out among the men.

“We saw ye move the wind as we were approachin’ the castle. Ash and leaves were flyin’ every which way, all at yer command. If yer nae a witch, then what are ye, Mother Nature herself?” When Angus recovered from his merriment, he looped the rope in his hands. With a nod of his head, he signaled to the others to hold the girl.

“Nay! I can help you,” Mariam cried as fear flashed in her eyes.

Angus and his men ignored her pleas as he slipped the loop over her hands, yanking it tight. Kendric took out a second rope from the bag at his back and bound Mariam’s feet, forcing her off-balance. She hit the ground with a thud.

Ash wafted in the air around her as Mariam struggled against her bonds. “This is a mistake. You must set me free. I do not want to hurt you. I can help.”

Angus turned to Kendric. “Take those who are ill tae the castle and demand the healer help ye while the rest of us take care of the woman. Agreed?”

With one last look at Mariam, Kendric shuffled toward the castle. One of them would die this night. He prayed it was her.

*

Cameron and his men came upon Ravenscraig village a mile from the castle. The settlement was eerily quiet as they passed through the empty streets. Further into town, they came across the bodies of two men. Cameron and his men stopped beside them. “What has happened here?” he asked, inspecting the men for wounds of any kind and finding none.

“Not a battle, or there would be others,” Keith said as he too inspected the scene. “And they have no weapons.”

“Illness then,” Cameron said, staring stonily into the still-murky distance. Were Mariam and the others safe from whatever this was? Before he could continue on, he and his men had an obligation here.

“Tie the horses and spread out through the village. If there are others here, encourage them to come with us back to the castle. We can help them there.”

Ravenscraig. His home. His haven. Instead of comfort, an odd tingling crept across the back of his neck, as if warning him that something terrible was about to happen. Pushing the sensation aside, Cameron helped his men round up nearly forty women and children who appeared to be suffering from some sort of illness. It didn’t matter: they would have to bring those who remained to the castle anyway. Perhaps they could be isolated there to contain the spread of the disease.

“Where have all the men gone?” Cameron asked an older woman, even though he already knew the answer.

He waited for a reply after a fit of coughing seized her. Weak from her effort to breathe, the woman turned her glassy, watery eyes to his. “Tae get . . . the witch. She’s responsible fer . . . this illness and the darkness. She’s just like her pa. Filled with evil. Somethin’ must be done . . . tae stop her. Burnin’ is the answer.”

Without further comment, Cameron and his men unhitched the horses and led the others toward the castle. As they went, a wind came out of nowhere, swirling about them, clearing the air. Ahead, Cameron could see the castle walls. The closer they came to the drawbridge and the outer bailey, the tauter his nerves became. His instincts warned of danger.

He drew his sword and charged forward, leaving the villagers behind. His men did the same. He burst into the outer bailey. His heart stilled, and his fists tightened on the hilt of his sword. There was only silence. “Mariam!” Cameron’s shout echoed through the palpable silence.