Down the Rabbit Hole

Beth pondered her problem. If she were to tell Colin about the words she’d overheard, would he be grateful for the warning? Or would it be one more reason for him to believe she was truly addled?

Could there possibly be others among this company who wanted Lord Colin Gordon dead? Was there an insidious plot to have him killed? Or had her fall, and her subsequent failure to represent her firm, made her want to believe in silly fairy tales, rather than concentrate on the true purpose of her visit? There was no denying that she wasn’t looking forward to seeing Colin’s face when that happened.

While she sorted out fact from fiction, she decided that for now she would watch and listen—and try not to draw any more attention to herself than necessary.


*

Colin glanced around the cluster of guests. “What is your tally so far, Ian?”

“Ten and two quail. A score of pheasants. But I intend to double that before the day ends.” Colin’s stepbrother tossed back a tankard before holding it out for a refill.

A serving wench was quick to attend to his need.

The men stood in a circle, drinking ale and paying little attention to the women seated beneath the tent.

Perhaps, Beth thought, it was because their women, despite the fashionable gowns, still had webbed feet and feathered wings. But the men fared little better. As she watched, Ian once again became a sly fox, while Hamish seemed to hunch into himself, growing shorter and shorter until he more resembled a mouse than a man.

Beth blinked, hoping to dispel the image, but now she realized the other men had also changed back from human to animal form. Though most were hounds, one was a hawk, with sharp, knowing eyes, watching the others.

She turned to where Colin stood a little apart, talking quietly to Jamie. The lad was now a wolf pup, eyes bright, tail wagging in a sign of friendship, while Colin had been transformed into a sleek, proud stag, with powerful antlers that could take down an opponent with one deadly swipe.

While she watched, the animal fixed her with a look so fierce, she felt a prickling sensation along her back and arms. He’d looked the same after her fall, when he’d greeted her with such disdain.

Despite her fear, she couldn’t bring herself to look away.

The beautiful animal pranced toward her, keeping her in its line of vision, and though she wanted to run in fear, she was rooted to the spot.

“You should eat something.” Before her eyes the animal disappeared. In its place was her handsome host. “Mistress MacKay will take offense if you refuse to sample her cooking.” He studied her pale face with a look of concern. “Are you feeling ill?”

She shook her head, desperately trying to keep up with the troubling transformations that had her believing she must surely be going mad. “I’m fine. And you’re right. We mustn’t offend the cook.”

He smiled. “I’ve often referred to her as a better fisherman than any here. She always manages to catch the finest salmon, the largest trout in our Highland streams.”

Beth looked over and saw the cook, transformed into a crane, standing as still as a statue, watching live fish swimming in a bucket of water. With split-second timing she dipped her head and caught several in her mouth before depositing them over hot coals.

Beth glanced around. Had no one else seen it?

Colin held Beth’s chair, and she was grateful to let her weak legs fold under as she took a seat with the geese.

Colin sat beside her, and the hunters followed his lead, joining their women as the meal was served.

In the blink of an eye Beth watched all the guests return to their human forms. She took a calming drink of ale and gripped the edge of the table for support.

Edwina shot a quick look at her brother. “Who is winning the wager so far?”

Ian shrugged. “Hamish and I are even. But I’ve decided on yet another wager. A hundred gold coins to the first one to bring down a stag.”

Colin’s head came up sharply. “We are hunting pheasants and quail. You’re not to disturb the deer in the forest.”

“Why such concern, brother?”