The Devil's Laird Read online

  “You lost me before when those men took me. I’m still not sure how.”

  Roderick laughed. “’Tis is a long story, lass. If I had been with ye . . . they would never have gotten you.”

  Siena peered at him doubtfully from beneath her lashes, but she let the subject rest while she settled herself, so she could watch the scenery.

  They rode on until a castle loomed ahead. It sat on top of a hill so that it overlooked the valley and the other rolling hills. It looked a lot like an English castle but much larger.

  However, Siena couldn’t believe what she was seeing. She gasped, “It’s black.”

  “Aye.”

  “B--But it used to have white walls,” Siena said more or less to herself when she realized that she’d been to this very castle before.

  “Ye know of Black Dawn, lass?”

  “I thought it was called White Dawn.”

  She felt Roderick tense behind her. He growled, “It was until yer brother attacked my home and burnt most of it to the ground.”

  “I’m so sorry,” she said, but she didn’t tell Roderick that she had warned his wife that an attack would happen. Evidently, his wife hadn’t mentioned the warning. Now, Siena realized that Roderick was married, and his wife would tell him about her visit as soon as Siena met her. His temper was too bad for her to tell him. Would Roderick blame her too? After all, she had tried to help, but there had been nothing she could do to stop the attack. All she could do was warn his family. Thank God, Roderick didn’t question her further.

  They rode down the hill and up the next toward the castle. She heard the rattle of chains as the castle gates magically opened without him calling out.

  “I guess they knew we were coming,” Siena said, thinking how much his home reminded her of an English castle.

  “Aye.” Roderick nodded. “They can see a great distance from atop the walls, and I have several outposts to watch for visitors approaching the castle.”

  Roderick said no more as they passed through the lane that lead between the cottages with their thatched roofs which were scattered on both sides of the road and fields in-between some of the huts where crops would be grown in the spring. They continued on over the drawbridge, the horse’s hooves sounding sharp on the wooden floor. They rode under the portcullis and into the outer bailey where a large field stood empty.

  Siena pointed. “Is that field for crops?”.

  “Nay, lass. ’Tis where the men practice combat. Most crops are grown by the villagers that we passed, but we do have gardens beyond the keep also.

  They climbed a hill that overlooked the training field. Here there were different merchants who stood motionless as they stopped what they were doing to greet their laird while he rode past them. She saw one man with a boot in his hand, which he was putting new leather on the bottom.

  Roderick called out to each vassal as they rode past or gave them a friendly nod. He was nothing like his legend of being a devil. He seemed to truly care for his people.

  It was her brother who’d been the devil, Siena thought.

  They stopped by a long building that appeared to be a stable by the smell. Roderick pulled Hercules to a halt. He lowered Siena to the ground with his left arm. She stood to the side as he dismounted. A short man with a round belly ambled out of the stables with a wooden pitchfork in one hand, which he stabbed into the ground. He wore the Scott’s plaid that matched his red hair and beard.

  “Ah, welcome home, Laird Scott,” he said. “Ye surely huv been missed.”

  “Garvin, ’tis good to see ye,” Roderick replied. He tossed the reins to the man. “Rub Hercules down and give him some extra oats. It has been a long few days.” Roderick rubbed the back of his aching neck. He hadn’t realized how tired he was until he returned home. It was as if the weight of the world had been sitting on his shoulders and he wasn’t sure he knew what normal was anymore. He turned to Siena. “Come, Siena and I’ll have a servant find ye a room. I’m sure Agatha is already there waiting for ye.”

  Siena wasn’t certain what to say other than, “Thank you.”

  Once they entered the great hall, which was twice as big as the one at Berwick, she expected to see his family. However, there was no one to greet them, just the crackling of the fire that looked most inviting to warm their bones.

  Roderick nudged her. “Follow me.”

  Siena smiled to herself. Hadn’t she been following him since she had met him? The man sure loved to issue orders.

  They climbed stone steps to the second floor, then made their way down a long hall. Roderick stopped in front of an oak door and shoved it open. “I think ye will be comfortable here.”

  Siena’s legs felt like water after climbing the stairs, and it was then that she realized she still wasn’t completely well. She sagged against him, longing for the bed. A yellow colored feather comforter was spread over what looked like a very comfortable bed. There was the red Scott plaid that Roderick wore folded across the bottom. She liked that. Had his wife left that feminine touch?

  Agatha came bustling into the room, smiling from ear to ear. “I knew he would find you, milady.” She opened her arms and gathered Siena into a hug.

  “I’m thankful he did.”

  “I’ll have hot water and bandages sent up for yer bath,” Roderick said from the doorway. “I will also have Elen look in on ye as she kens the most about healing.”

  “Thank you.” Siena tried to force her confused emotions in order as she sat down on a chair beside the bed. I would like a few days to get my strength back to what it should be,” she said, and then added, looking at Roderick. “If you don’t mind.”

  “Aye. I think that is a good idea, lass. You have been through a great deal and rest is probably the best medicine. Food will be sent up so that ye can eat in yer room and rest. We will have plenty of time to talk later,” Roderick said, then he turned and shut the door behind him.

  Later that night in the great hall, Roderick and his men gathered for dinner. The sounds of men laughing and talking were a good sound to him. He sat behind the high table. There were three long wooden tables in front of his table filled with his men.

  They talked among themselves as food was served, and Roderick noticed the tension had eased from his men. Perhaps, they were glad they could put the past behind them now that they had their revenge. He hoped so. He felt a little lighter himself.

  Roderick picked up a bannock and spread creamy butter on the bread. He took a bite, savoring the taste of the warm bread, then followed it with a swig of ale.

  “Where is yer prisoner?” Duncan asked as he joined his laird.

  “She isn’t my prisoner.”

  Duncan took his seat beside Roderick. “Then what is she?”

  “You just willna let it go?” Roderick grumbled. “Ye’re like a blasted thorn in my side.”

  “Ah, weel. I like gettin’ under yer skin.” Duncan grinned, then took a swig of ale.

  “If you were not such an old man, I’d knock ye out.”

  Duncan chuckled. “So, where is the lass?”

  “My guest,” Roderick said pointedly, “is in her room. I want her fully recovered before she joins us.”

  “’Tis probably best. Ye have to admit the lass showed strength that she probably wasn’t aware of. Not many Englishwomen or men would have survived what she went through.”

  “I agree. She’s a feisty wee lass. Most women would have been in tears.”

  Duncan tore a bannock apart. “’Tis a shame that we dinna get any information from Fidach.”

  Roderick stabbed his dirk into a meaty rib and placed it in his trencher before answering. “Aye. Will I ever get any peace over my son?”

  Duncan reached over and placed a hand on Roderick’s shoulder. “I’m praying one day ye will, son.”

  A wooden bathtub had been brought into Siena’s room and bucket after bucket of hot water was hauled up the stairs and dumped into the tub. Once it had been filled, Agatha helped Siena undress,
so she could ease into the hot water.

  “Ah, I do believe this water will help with many of my aches,” Siena said as she leaned back against the tub and closed her eyes. After a few minutes, Siena said, “Agatha will you wash my hair? I’m trying not to get water on my wound.”

  “Aye,” Agatha said as she reached for a small jar of scented soap. She began to lather Siena’s hair. “The warm water must be heaven after the cold loch. Once you have on a clean gown, I know you’ll feel much better.”

  The past few days seemed like a blur. It was as if Siena was reading a book and everything was happening to someone else within the pages. “I think so too. I’m still very tired. I suppose my body needs rest before I’m back to good health. I love the smell of roses from the soap.” She wiped the suds from her face. “Have you met the Laird’s wife?”

  “Nay, milady, I’ve not seen anyone, other than the servants, since I was shown to this room.”

  “Have you been free to leave the room?”

  “Aye. I don’t believe we are prisoners.”

  By the time Siena had dried off and towel-dried her hair, she was exhausted. She slipped beneath the turned-back covers intending to sleep, however, a sharp knock rattled the door and made her sit back up. She propped upon the pillows behind her, and held her breath, expecting to meet the laird’s wife as she bade whoever it was to enter.

  The door flew open and a woman dressed in green, with green leaves entwined in her braids, swept into the room and Siena knew right away this wasn’t Roderick’s wife. This lady was very old, and daft looking with leaves sticking out of her hair here and there. The woman carried a wicker basket full of cream-colored bandages on her arm, so Siena assumed this had to be the healer.

  “Good day to ye, Lady Siena. I am Elen.” She strolled over to the bed and shooed Agatha out of her way with a wave of her hand. “I’m hundred and three years gone, and my knees are no’ what they used to be,” Elen said as she sat in the straight-backed chair beside the bed. “Oooch, ’tis better. Our laird asked that I look in tae see if I can help with yer wound. He seemed most concerned.”

  “I think I’m fine. Or will be.” Siena added. “I have a gash on my arm.” She held her arm up, feeling much like a child. “I am a healer, myself, but of course, it’s hard to stitch my own arm. Fergus was kind enough to do the sewing and I think he did a good job, but I’m without my herbs and I worry about infection.” She realized she was rambling, so she stopped talking.

  “Laird Roderick did mention yer wound and also a fever. Do ye mind if I have a look?”

  “Please do.”

  Elen first felt Siena’s forehead. “I feel no fever, so that is good, lass.” Elen carefully removed the bandages and examined the red and tender injury.

  “Milady,” Agatha said from the doorway. “I’m going to take a walk outside while you have someone with you. I think the night air will do me some good.” Siena nodded, and Agatha left the room.

  Siena watched as Elen worked. There was something comforting about the old woman’s touch. Her hands were weathered, and her hair snow-white, but her smile was kind and understanding. Siena glanced at Elen’s long braids wrapped upon her head where the leaves were entwined.

  “Why do you have leaves in your hair?” Siena asked and then caught herself. “I’m so sorry. That was terribly rude.”

  Elen glanced up. She had the kindest eyes that were as green as moss on a sunny day. Her eyes were sharp in her lined face not dulled by age.

  “Always ask questions, lass. ’Tis the only way tae learn,” Elen said as she reached into her basket and pulled out a small jar. “I’ll answer yer questions in a moment, but first let me say that your wound shows no infection. I’m going to put some Dubhan ceann-cósach, Dubhan Pecan-dubh over the stitching.”

  “I’m afraid you’ll have to explain. I have no idea what you just said,” Siena said with a laugh.

  “Ye, dinna speak Gaelic, lass.” Elen chuckled. “Weel, ’tis an all-heal salve I mixed up using an herb called Prunella vulgaris and some goldenrod. I make this paste for cuts and large wounds.” She opened the jar and showed it to Siena. “Works nicely.” She carefully spread the yellow-tinged salve on Siena’s arm, then reached in her basket and pulled out several cloth bandages.

  “I have used goldenrod before,” Siena said as she watched the woman wrap her arm. “I’m afraid that in our haste we didn’t have time to get my herbs. I will have to gather some of my own herbs if I’m to be of any help around here.” She examined her arm. “I must say the salve is soothing and cool.”

  “I’ll huv to show ye where ye can find the best herbs come spring. I’m glad Laird Roderick has brought home someone useful. Still, with ye being a Sassenach, folks willna be trusting of ye.”

  “I know,” Siena said with a shrug, “but maybe with time, I’ll be accepted.”

  “What are those marks on yer throat, lass? I think my cream could help them also.”

  Siena knew her face must have turned beet red because she could feel the heat burning her cheeks. “Well, my brother’s men were trying to have me hanged when Laird Roderick came to my rescue.”

  Elen’s white eyebrows shot up. “That’s quite a tale, lass. Why don’t ye start from the beginning and tell me what happened to ye, that is, if ye dinna mind. I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

  Normally, Siena would not talk about herself, but there was something about the healer that made her comfortable. Slowly, Siena told the old woman about her life. Elen patiently listened and nodded here and there, but she never showed any shock. Siena thought she would see judgment in Elen’s eyes, but Siena was wrong.

  “Ah, lass,” Elen said shaking her head. “Ye’ve been through a great deal. Yer brother was not liked by my kind. ’Tis glad I am that he is dead.” She held out her hand. “Let me see this mark that ye referred to.”

  Siena twisted her left arm and held it up to Elen. “They call it the mark of the devil.”

  “That isn’t what it is.” Elen extracted a pipe out of her pocket. She paused a moment to pick up a straw which she held to the candle’s flame on the bed stand. She lit her pipe and puffed a couple of times until she blew out a thick, white smoke ring. “The pipe helps me relax. Tonight, I have mint and lavender in the pipe. ’Tis nice. Remember I’m one hundred and three, so relaxing is a must for my weary bones.” She nodded toward her pipe. “Now where were we … Oh, I remember this mark means you are gifted and that ye’re a seer? ’Tis an arrow and not a pitchfork, as ye’ve been led to believe. I’ve seen it twice before. Huv ye never seen things that are not happening around you?”

  “Aye.” Siena nodded. “But I never know when I’m going to see things or how it works. It just happens. I have no control over it.”

  “Ye can practice. In time, ye’ll huv much better control.” Elen patted her hand. “Ye might not have had a good life in the past, but I believe that it will be better in the future.”

  “Anything would have to be better than what I left.” Then Siena thought of something else. “They also call me the White Witch.”

  “Alas, people love to put labels on things they dinna understand. “They call me The Green Woman, hence the leaves in my hair, amber around my neck and I dress in green.” Elen smiled. She clamped the pipe between her teeth, then pulled the covers back over Siena. Reaching into the basket, Elen brought out a small cup full of liquid and handed it to her. “It’s cold and would be better if it were warm, but drink this.”

  “What is it?”

  “Heather tea. It will help give ye restful sleep.”

  Siena took several sips and then handed the cup back. “It doesn’t taste so bad.”

  “Aye. ’Tis white heather, and scarce. But ’tis magical,” she lowered her voice as if telling a secret. “It only grows on the grave of a fairy.”

  Siena could only stare at Elen, having no idea whether to believe her or not. Things were strange in this land. For all she knew it could be true.

  �
�Why don’t ye slide under the covers and sleep. ’Tis still the best cure for many of your aches and pains.” Elen stood, then she grabbed the back of the chair to steady herself. Damn knees,” she swore. “I’ll look in on ye again in the morning.”

  Siena fell asleep before the door closed.

  Chapter 6

  For three days, Siena slept, waking only to eat and when Agatha would nudge her to make certain Siena was still alive. She would wake up screaming, caught in one of her hellish nightmares, but Agatha was always there to soothe her and remind Siena they were no longer under her brother’s command. Sleep became her friend while her body and mind healed.

  However, on the fourth day, Siena awoke feeling much better. Slowly, she sat up, stretched, and then looked around the room. Nothing looked familiar to her, and for a second she panicked until she remembered she was at Black Dawn and not Berwick Castle. She looked toward heaven and thanked God for that small blessing.

  As Siena tried to move, she had to admit that she felt a little stiff, and sore. Her stomach grumbled. Now she wanted food instead of dreading the idea of eating. Another sign she was feeling like herself once again.

  Siena slipped out of bed, paused for a moment until her head stopped spinning, then she padded across the floor to the dry sink. Glancing around for a pitcher, she spotted it on the hearth; thankfully the servants had built a long-lasting fire and had placed the pitcher of water on the hearth to warm. The fire made the room cozy.

  She picked up the white pitcher and returned to the basin where she poured water into the large bowl. The wind whistled outside. The sound made her shiver, and she was glad for the warm water. However, her feet were already getting chilled from the cold stone floor, so she knew it must be really cold outside.

  Sienna splashed water on her face to wash away the last vestiges of sleep. She reached for her hairbrush, and began brushing her hair, trying to remove the many tangles that had formed from her tossing and turning in bed. She wondered where Agatha was this morning.