The Enchantress Read Free

Blackfearn is the largest castle this side of Inverness. He must stop ignoring his position in life. Stop acting like a common crofter--eating and sleeping in the fields and in the stables. He must take his place as the leader of his warriors and his people.”
    Gilbert opened his mouth to speak, but the priest rolled on.
    “‘Tis true that the title of earl was stripped from your great-grandsire all those years ago. But in the eyes of these people and every nobleman in the Highlands, William is now the true earl of Ross. He is their chieftain. He is the laird.” Father Francis laid a gnarled hand on Gilbert’s wrist. “And as such, he is responsible for marrying properly and begetting a bairn to keep your great lineage alive.”
    Gilbert again began to speak, but Father Francis raised a hand to him and gestured toward the mantel above the fireplace and the simple sketch there on a wooden board. A sketch of a little girl’s face.
    “And I’m not even mentioning William’s failure to bring Thomas’s wee daughter, Miriam, back to her own clan folk.”
    Gilbert sat back in his chair and nodded thoughtfully at the elderly priest. There was no purpose in arguing. Half of what the chaplain said was true. More than half. Still, though, there was no way that Gilbert could see his brother marrying.
    Much to Gilbert’s chagrin, William openly preferred the company of the fallen women at the Three Cups Tavern to any lass who had been properly brought up. In fact, this past fall when he’d finally allowed Gilbert to drag him along to visit with the earl of Caithness’s daughter--under the pretense of a hunting party--William had said as much to the poor lass herself. Gilbert cringed at the memory of the young woman running, horrified, across the heather-covered meadow back to the arms of an indignant mother.
    Gilbert and William were only two years apart in age while Thomas had been more than twelve years their senior. As the result of this age difference, the younger brothers had been inseparable as lads. And later on, when Gilbert had pursued a life in the church and William had been sent away to St. Andrew’s--and later to the household of Lord Herries--the two still had managed to remain close. They were not just brothers but friends as well. And it was as a friend and not as kin that Gilbert Ross had determined that his older brother was perfectly content with whom he’d become--despite the fact that he had been called upon to be laird. Changing him at this stage in his life would be as difficult as chiseling in stone with a willow branch.
    “‘Tis up to you, Gilbert! You have the power and the influence to do a great deal more good than repairing an ancient chimney. St. Duthac’s will survive. You, however, have the ability to preserve the Ross name and, in so doing, save that undisciplined rogue you call brother at the same time.” Father Francis lowered his eyes to the open page of the ledger. “You have the insight to force him to settle into a calmer and more respectable life. To find the right lass. That’s what he needs, Gilbert. Just the right lass to calm his wild ways.”
    Perhaps, Gilbert thought with a resigned smile. But pity the woman.
     
    ******
     
    William Ross cursed out loud as the squirming, kicking banshee landed a solid punch to the small of his back. Who would have thought that fighting off an entire company of Sinclairs would be easier than controlling the woman he’d thrown over his shoulder?
    The woman’s scream had brought all hell down around their ears. The moment he’d tried to drag her over the low wall, she’d dug in her heels, caterwauling as William had never heard before. For a wee thing she was...vigorous.
    The riot that immediately ensued upturned carts and tore down tents. The Sinclairs were quick to pour into the alleyway, but the Ross farmers were equally quick to head them off once they knew the laird was involved.
    Grimacing at the pain shooting through his lower