Under an Enchantment: A Novella by Anne Stuart Read Free Book Online Page A

faeries and broonies and the like. It was Ailie’s favorite place in the world.
    The old witch Morag was rumored to live there, though no one had ever actually admitted to seeing her but Ailie, and everyone knew the lass was mazed. The old woman was powerful nonetheless, and she was known to cast a spell on souls, a spell that rendered their fishing nets empty and their sheep dead. She’d put such a spell on Domnhall MacAlpin when he’d murdered Ailie’s cat, but the villagers didn’t consider it one of her happier acts. Domnhall had turned to seal hunting, and the good folk of St. Columba were waiting for the selkies to take their revenge.
    It was the time for faeries, that endless twilight of the northern isles, and Ailie’s bare feet were light on the pathway. Even if they suspected where she was, no one would come after her. They were afraid of the Seal’s Dance, all of them, even Margery. They would wait till she came to them, secure in the knowledge that the spirit of old Morag would protect her.
    They were the simple ones, Ailie thought with gentle derision. So busy looking just beyond the end of their noses that they could see no farther. They trusted only what they could see, smell, and touch. They were missing a world of glory.
    “ There you are, lassie.” Morag’s voice came to her on the soft breeze, and she turned, gracefully, to see the bent-over old lady sitting on the ground by one of the stones. “I knew ye’d come to me this night.”
    Ailie didn’t bother to ask how she knew. In her experience Morag was as wise and as old as time. She crossed the thick mossy grass and knelt beside the old woman. “Who is he?” she asked, knowing she need explain no further.
    “ He comes from the sea,” Morag said. “Dinna ye ken his eyes? He comes from the seal people.”
    “ So do half the people of St. Columba.”
    “ Aye,” she said, as if that answered everything.
    “ What does he want?”
    Morag turned to look at her. Her eyes were milky, practically sightless, and yet she could see into Ailie’s heart more truly than any soul with perfect vision. “He means ye harm, mistress. He’ll change yer life, turn it upside down, and there’s no telling how it will end.”
    “ Why would he wish to harm me?”
    “ Not for your sake. For others’. It’s a blood vengeance, and you stand right in the midst of it. Keep away from him, mistress. I don’t want to lose ye.”
    “ You won’t lose me,” Ailie said in a fierce, quiet voice that none of her kin would even recognize. “Haven’t you been more than a mother to me? I’ll keep away from the man.”
    “ Ye don’t want to. I can hear it in your voice. He fascinates you.”
    Ailie didn’t bother to deny it. “I’ve never known an enchanted creature before,” she said. “It’s little wonder I’m drawn to him. He’s bonnie enough to make even a lackwit take notice.”
    “ And ye’re no lackwit, for all the pretense ye make of it,” Morag said.
    “ I’m lackwit enough to come here tonight with no food for you,” she said wryly. “I’ll bring you a basket tomorrow.”
    “ And ye’ll keep away from yon fine craiture?”
    Ailie thought back to him. To the eyes the color of the sea, the tall, strong body, thin but powerful, the strong nose, and firm mouth. And she remembered the warmth of his mouth beneath her fingertips. Beneath her lips. Morag had never asked anything of her—she’d been a lap to weep into, a voice of wisdom, the keeper of the stories, and a source of magic. Ailie would do as she asked, without regret.
    “ I’ll keep away from him,” she said firmly, meaning every word of it. But she hadn’t accounted for her dreams.
     
    She slept soundly that night, in the high, soft bed in the dower house, at peace, knowing no one would come to her side, no one would insist on watching as she disrobed, his eyes bleary and hungry, his body aged and sick. She had no one to bother her, no one to question her, for at least the