Even so, the lass was bonny. Gavin might be daft enough to become smitten by her beauty alone.
"I have to make sure that doesn't happen."
After laying the keek-stane aside, she hastened to the oak chest and slid out the bottom drawer. From underneath a folded woolen blanket, she pulled out an aged and worn book of spells. She carried it to her writing desk near the window. In the brighter light, she opened the leather-bound cover and flipped through several pages.
She well knew the spell for preserving youthful beauty, for she used it often. It helped her appear much younger than her age. She smiled and glanced into the small mirror on the desk. Aye, she looked stunning today.
Thus far, she'd had no need for a spell to destroy a younger woman's beauty. But now, if she could make the wench ugly, Gavin would have no interest in her.
Near the back of the book, Wilona found the spell and the tisane recipe she would need to blend and steep. She would cast it into the lass's face. Mayhap 'twould scald her like boiling pitch.
Wilona chuckled and called out, "Ava!" When the young maid opened the door and entered, Wilona said, "Bring me a kettle of boiling water from the kitchen, and be quick about it."
"Very well, m'lady." The girl curtsied and left.
Wilona unlocked and opened the carved, decorative door of the small cabinet on the wall. Wee corked bottles of herbs, spices, and exotic ingredients filled the shelves. She had overseen the growing and drying of most of these from her own garden out back. Her gardener cultivated a shocking number of poison plants and guarded them against interlopers. If she couldn't grow the herbs, she had them brought in from elsewhere.
Choosing the ingredients she would need for this particular spell, she removed the cork stoppers and sprinkled a generous amount of each into the black granite mortar. Using the matching pestle, she crushed and ground the components, murmuring the magical words. The pungent odor of the compound filled the air. Finished, she poured the powder into a clean cheesecloth, gathered the corners, and tied it into a bag. After placing it into a pewter cup, she waited for the maid to return with the steaming kettle. Where was the lazy wench?
Next, she would steep the compound in hot water for several minutes, extracting the potent essence, then pour the liquid into a vial.
Evening approached and 'twas too late for a trip this day. But in the morn, when Gavin took wing, what could he do to prevent her from visiting his bride? Naught. His daft, lazy servants wouldn't stop Wilona. She grinned. Soon, the pretty lass would be uglier than an ancient crone's posterior.
∞∞∞
"I have to get out of here," Dani whispered, pacing, wearing out the floor in her room.
No, you can't leave. You've already accepted his proposal. Are you going back on your word?
"Maybe." Brides changed their minds all the time. Everyone she knew in modern-day would consider her a complete idiot for agreeing to marry a man she'd only known for a couple of days.
Who cares what other people think? They'll never find out anyway.
That realization only bummed her out more. Her parents would never get to meet her potential husband. In fact, they probably thought she was dead. And if so, they were grieving her loss.
"I'm sorry I put you through that," she whispered, tears burning her eyes.
She had to get back to them and her normal life. Gavin didn't need her. He would figure out another solution to his clan's problem.
"I have to leave this insanity. No more dilly-dallying," she muttered.
After slipping into the stone corridor and down the steps, she peered around the corner. The great hall looked empty, but loud snores ripped through the silence. Ewan napped on a bench next to a nook in the wall, not too far from the entrance. Multitasking—guarding and sleeping at the same time.
Pulse thumping in her throat, she sneaked forward a few feet during each snore. Though one part of her didn't like this plan, another part spurred her on. She'd never before realized two people resided inside her head. Talk about delusional.
Standing in front of Ewan, she waited. His keyring was hooked onto his belt, and she had to rally all her restraint not to grab it. During the next roar from his nose, she clasped the huge skeleton keys in her hands so they wouldn't jingle, then lifted the ring and detached it from his belt. He snorted and turned onto his side. She froze and waited while his nap resumed, then crept away.
Heart pounding hard, she increased her pace until she was out of earshot. She couldn't believe she had her ticket to the future. Fearing Crocker might happen upon her and see the keys, she wrapped them in her plaid sash, then strolled along the corridor. Arriving at the door she most suspected of being the armory where they kept Gavin's sword, she glanced behind herself and saw no one.
Silence filled this part of the castle.
Finch had not yet returned from his errand and, last time she'd checked, Crocker was feeding Lunn. Hewie spent most of his time in the stables, while Father John rested and recovered.
Now, which one of the dozen bronze and iron keys fit this lock? She tried one after the other, the rusty metal of the lock scraping.
A chunky key got stuck.
"Oh, crap." She yanked at it. "Stupid piece of metal." It released with a loud rasp, and she stumbled backward, almost losing her balance.
