Sins of a Highland Devil by Sue-Ellen Welfonder & Allie Mackay

Author:Sue-Ellen Welfonder & Allie Mackay [Welfonder, Sue-Ellen & Mackay, Allie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Gruenwald Corporation
Published: 2019-06-23T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

About the same time, but in the coldest, darkest part of the Glen of Many Legends, a place where black mist often swirled and impassable, stone-filled corries kept unwanted intruders at bay, Grizel stood in the middle of her tidy, thick-walled cottage, Tigh-na-Craig – House on the Rock – and sent a silent prayer to the Auld Ones, humbly thanking them for the great powers they’d vested in her.

She resisted the temptation to laud them for their wisdom in recognizing that she, better than any other, knew how to best use such favor.

Some opinions should be kept to oneself.

And she knew well that such gifts as hers could be snatched away in a blink if a soul dared to be boastful. Or, Odin forefend, if one dared to misuse them. Though, admittedly, there were moments when she slipped, allowing her pride in her greatness to shine.

Most especially when Gorm annoyed her.

He wasn’t the only Maker of Dreams. And if, now and then, he goaded her into flaunting her superiority, the blame was entirely his own.

But she never used her abilities to harm.

Though, given sufficient provocation, she had been known to needle those so deserving.

This was one of those times.

So she patted the snowy-white braids she wore wound artfully on either side of her head and then smoothed her black skirts. She took pleasure in the clean, freshening scent of cinnamon that rose from the heavy, linen folds. The fragrance delighted her nose. For luck, she rubbed her knotty knuckles across the half-moon brooch of beaten silver that she always pinned at her shoulder.

Satisfied, she hitched her skirts just enough to ensure that her small black boots were spotlessly clean, no bits of heather or smears of peat clinging to the soles.

On finding no fault with her footgear – she did take care with such things – she allowed herself a deep, appreciative breath. Tigh-na-Craig was known for the earthy-sweet peat smoke that permeated the cottage’s thick, white-washed walls. And the tantalizing food smells that always hovered in the air. This morn, a rich meat broth simmered in the heavy black cauldron that hung from a chain over her cook fire. The mouthwatering aroma almost tempted Grizel to forgo her duties.

Her diminutive stature – many likened her to a tiny, black-garbed bird - wouldn’t let anyone guess, but she was fond of her victuals. And with good reason for her skill with a ladle was nigh as formidable as her magical talents.

But her savory meat broth would have to wait.

Just now, more important matters needed her attention.

Eager to begin, she straightened her back as best she could and then hobbled to the door. She cracked it just enough to make certain that her special friend and helpmate, Rannoch, still guarded the cottage’s entry. Her ancient heart warmed to see the white stag, for they’d been together beyond remembering and she loved him dearly. Also called Laoigh Feigh Ban, because of his remarkable coloring, the enchanted creature possessed powers to rival her own.

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