The Betrayal

CHAPTER Fifteen

“My lady.”

A knock on the door of her chambers, and a muffled voice from the other side, had Kylia sitting up in confusion. Beside her, Grant folded an arm beneath his head and frowned.

His voice was sleep roughened. “Tell Ardis to go away.”

Kylia looked alarmed. “How can I do that, my lord? It’s her duty to help me prepare for the day.”

He drew her down and brushed a kiss over her cheek, sending heat curling all the way to her toes. “Tell her to come back when the sun is high.”

Kylia lifted her head and glanced at the balcony. “It’s been raining all night. The sun may not come out for hours.”

“Even better.” He ran a hand down her hair and growled against her lips, “Send her away. I’m not ready to leave you, my love.”

Kylia sighed. “I simply cannot lie.”

“Then tell her the truth.”

Seeing the challenge in his eyes, she turned to the door and called, “Come back later, Ardis. I’m not ready to leave my pallet yet.”

“Aye, my lady.”

As Ardis’s footsteps receded, Kylia caught sight of the wide smile that split Grant’s lips. “That was no lie, for I’m not ready to leave yet.”

“A good thing.” He dragged her into his arms and kissed her until they were both breathless. “For after that dream you shared with me last night, I’m feeling even more inclined to spend every precious day doing something pleasurable, in order to store up memories for the bad times.”

“What makes you think there will be bad times, my lord?”

“Right now—” he ran soft, wet kisses down her throat “—it’s impossible to think at all, my love.”

And then, as the castle hummed with activity beyond the door, the two of them slipped away to a warm, snug cocoon of soft sighs and gentle kisses.

“Good morrow, Grant.” Dougal hurried across the great hall to clap a hand on his brother’s shoulder before bowing to Kylia. “My lady. I hope you slept well on your first night under our roof.”

“I did, thank you.” Kylia could feel her cheeks color as she walked to the table between Grant and his younger brother. She looked up at the men who were awaiting them at table. “Good morrow, Finlay, Culver. Lord Giles.”

The three men were on their feet and bowing over her hand.

“My lady.” Giles beamed. “You are truly a sight for these old eyes.”

“You say that to all the pretty maidens,” Finlay said dryly. He turned to Kylia. “But in your case, my lady, the man does not exaggerate. You look refreshed.”

“I am, thank you.” She took her seat beside Grant and accepted a goblet of hot mulled wine from a servant.

Grant turned to Culver. “Where is my aunt?”

“She decided to break her fast in her chambers.” The older man looked uncomfortable as he added, “She thought it best.”

“Will you convey to her that I desire her company at table when we sup tonight?”

“I will, my lord.” Culver seemed surprised and more than a little pleased. “Does this mean that you bear her no ill will?”

“I’m still smarting from her words, but the lady Kylia begged a favor, and I cannot refuse. For the sake of this good woman, I request my aunt’s company.”

Culver bowed slightly to Kylia. “You are as wise as you are lovely, my lady.” He turned to Grant. “By your leave, I’ll convey your request to your aunt now.”

Grant nodded. When the man was gone, he glanced around the table at the others, who had listened in silence.

Dougal seemed relieved. “I’m glad you’re willing to forgive our aunt, my lady. For she’s been like a mother to us all these years.”

“So your brother has told me. And like a mother, she is fearful of what she doesn’t understand. My family has long known that we are feared in your world because of our gifts.”

“Tell me about them.” Dougal began polishing off a joint of fowl, while emptying his goblet. He ate with a boyish enthusiasm that had Kylia grinning.

Seeing her watching him, he paused. “What is it, my lady?”

She shook her head. “It’s just that I’m unaccustomed to seeing anyone eat with such glee.”

“Don’t the men in your kingdom enjoy their food?”

Again she laughed. “There are no men in the Mystical Kingdom. Well, except for Jeremy, but I’m not sure a troll is the same as a man.”

“A troll?” The food was forgotten as he stared at her in surprise. “There truly are such things as a trolls?”

“I know of only one.”

“Aren’t they nasty little mythical creatures that sleep under bridges and live off the kindness of others?”

“Jeremy is as sweet as a bairn. Though he has confessed to being quite angry when he lived in this world. But he has forgiven those who taunted him. As has Bessie.”

“Is Bessie a troll, too?”

“Nay.” Kylia laughed, a clear sweet sound that had Grant smiling along with her. “Bessie looks like an old crone, all stooped over, with a hunched back and crooked, almost fearsome features, but she cooks like an angel and has the disposition of a saint. Before my family fled this land, we encountered Jeremy and Bessie living in dire circumstances, and made them part of our family. When we left for our kingdom they chose to go with us, since they had nowhere else to go.”

“You weren’t afraid of them?” Dougal asked.

“Nay. For my mum and gram taught us that we must look beyond the face that one shows to the world, and see what is in the heart.”

Giles shook his head. “You continually surprise me, my lady. If all of us could follow that advice, this world would be a better place.”

Dougal polished off yet another joint of fowl and leaned back. “I want to hear all about your kingdom, my lady.”

“Another time.” Grant drained his goblet and got to his feet. “Now we must meet with the Council, for there is much business to discuss.” He touched a hand to Kylia’s shoulder. “Perhaps you’d care to explore the castle a bit, my lady.”

She closed a hand over his. “I’d like that.”

As they started away Giles paused. “The castle gardens are lovely this time of year, my dear. I’ve heard you have a wolf pup that might enjoy the freedom to run.”

“Aye. I’ve named him Wee Lad. I thank you, Lord Giles.”

Kylia watched them walk away, then got to her feet. Hadn’t Culver said that Hazlet walked the gardens each day while she prayed? If she were ever to make peace with the woman, she’d best start now.

The rain had fled, leaving the gardens green and the stones that lined the pathways sparkling in the sunlight. Wee Lad ran ahead, stopping to sniff at all the strange, new things. As Kylia followed more slowly along the hedgerows, she was soon caught up in the peace of her surroundings. Roses grew in profusion, as well as colorful foxglove, lady’s mantle and fragrant lavender. There were fountains where birds splashed, and stone benches inviting her to pause and enjoy the beauty. While the pup chased a butterfly, she sat, listening to the flow of water and filling her lungs with the wonderful perfume of the flowers.

It pleased her to know that the people in Grant’s world enjoyed the same simple pleasures that she had always enjoyed in hers. She smiled at the antics of Wee Lad as he stood very still, watching a family of birds that spread their wings and hopped about, enjoying their bath.

She was so lost in the sight of the pup’s antics, as he dashed into the fountain and chased the birds, she was startled when a robed figure entered her line of vision. Hazlet, in the familiar veil and headdress, walked with her head down, her lips moving in silent prayer.

When she caught sight of Kylia seated on the stone bench, she looked around wildly, as though planning to flee. Then, seeing that she’d been spotted, she lifted her head and fixed Kylia with a stern look. “What game do you play with me, witch?”

“Game?” Kylia sat up straighter.

“Culver told me that my nephew requests my presence at his table, because you asked it of him. Why would you do such a thing?”

“You are as much mother as aunt to Grant and Dougal. It would pain them to be separated from you.”

“Why should that matter to you?”

“You are a woman who loved a man deeply. You, more than anyone, ought to understand that anything that causes pain to Grant, pains me as well.”

“You dare to pretend to care about my nephew the way I cared about my beloved Ranald?”

“There is no pretense, Lady Hazlet. I love your nephew.”

“You dare to confuse lust with love? Everyone knows that witches aren’t capable of love. Except perhaps with their own kind.”

As Hazlet started to sweep past, Kylia got to her feet and stood in her way. “There is something I must tell you.”

“I have no interest in anything you might want to say.”

Kylia’s voice lowered with feeling. “When first I arrived here, I was visited with a dream. In it I saw your brother and his friend on the field of battle. I watched them die, and heard their dying words.” She saw the veiled head come up, and though she couldn’t see Hazlet’s eyes, she heard her suck in a breath.

Gathering her courage, she spoke quickly, before the woman could run. “Stirling and Ranald fought with great courage, but they were badly outnumbered.”

“You could have learned that from anyone here at the castle. It was well known that my brother was headstrong. Even though he knew the Highlanders’ strength was no match for the invaders, he used his charm to persuade his army to meet them on the field of battle. It was my brother’s pride that caused the death of all those fine men, and the man I loved.”

“Though you cast blame, Ranald never did. As he lay in Stirling’s arms, breathing his last, he spoke only of you.”

Hazlet went very still.

“Ranald begged your brother to watch out for you. He expressed fear that you would withdraw from the world. ‘In fear and shame,’ he said. And then his last words were that he loved you more than life itself.”

If Kylia had expected her words to comfort the older woman, she was astounded when, instead of gratitude, Hazlet flew into a black, blinding rage.

“Witchcraft.” The insult was torn from her lips while she lifted her hands to her ears, to block any further words Kylia might try to speak. “All of this is evil witchcraft, descended upon me by the devil himself.”

“I thought…”

“You thought to trick me. To win my confidence, and then to betray me to the others. But I know your kind. Evil, evil witch.” Hazlet pointed a finger at the wolf pup that, having heard her shouts, chewed nervously at the hem of Kylia’s gown. “You belong together. Both creatures of the wild.”

Lifting her skirts, Hazlet turned and began to run toward the castle, leaving Kylia to stare after her in amazement.

What had just happened here? What had caused this blazing anger?

As she went over in her mind what she’d said and done, Kylia could think of no reason for Hazlet’s fury. She had simply affirmed that the man Hazlet loved above all others had returned that love, and had asked his best friend to watch out for her.

Lest she withdraw in shame and fear.

What did Hazlet have to fear after the death of her lover, except loneliness?

What would shame her, except her brother’s headstrong actions that had taken him and his men into a battle they couldn’t win? Yet Grant and Dougal felt nothing but pride at their father’s courage.

How could the love of a good man, who returned that love, bring a woman shame and fear?

Kylia sank down onto the stone bench, hearing in her mind her grandmother’s wise words. Sometimes the answers to our questions are right before our eyes. All we need do is see things in a different light.

As she lifted Wee Lad onto her lap and began to soothe him, she pondered. What was she missing? Who held the key to Hazlet’s grief and anger? And was this somehow connected to the reason she had accompanied Grant to his world?