Page 31 of A Little Highland Magic

Chapter Eleven

Aria raced to her own bedchamber for only a moment before heading down the stairs. She grabbed her cloak and moved towards the stables. A radiant glow illumined the clouds overhead and cast a warm glow over the isle. Every morning the sun was a gentle reminder that every day was a gift and an opportunity to start fresh. She would use that opportunity to help the MacLeods against a relentless foe.

The wide double doors of the stable were open, releasing a familiar scent of hay and horses. As Aria entered, a wiry man stepped forward to greet them. “Timothy,” Aria greeted the stable boy with a smile.

With bright eyes, the groom touched the brim of his hat. “Welcome, m’lady. Yer horse has been brushed out and is ready if ye choose to ride her.”

Aria noted that the stables were clean, the boxes were spacious, and all the horse in view had sleek, well-brushed coats. “Your charges are well cared for, Timothy. I am sure the laird is very pleased with your work.”

“My thanks, m’lady.” A toothy grin spread across his face before he turned to retrieve Aria’s horse.

She couldn’t help but smile when he returned with her dappled mare, Angel, saddled and ready for riding. He had chosen her usual astride saddle for which she was grateful. At her approach, the mare lifted her head, regarding Aria with dark, gentle eyes. “Such a beautiful girl,” Aria crooned as she reached up to scratch behind her horse’s ears. Angel nickered at her mistress then gave her a friendly headbutt. The horse was as well trained as she was elegant.

With another expression of her appreciation of the groom’s care of the animals, Aria mounted and rode from the stables, heading for Dunvegan village. She had no time to waste. For she would never forget the look of naked vulnerability in Gwendolyn’s eyes when Aria had mentioned that her children needed protection. At the memory of Gwendolyn’s pain, Aria pushed Angel to an even faster gait until the borders of the village came into view.

When she stopped just outside the village, she realised a second set of hoofbeats also came to a stop. She turned to see Graeme behind her. She startled that she hadn’t realised his proximity before now. She was distracted, and that could get her and all the MacLeods killed.

He came slowly forward until he was parallel with her. “You left in such a hurry. I was worried.”

At the worry in his eyes, she tempered her words. “Worried I would leave for Fairyland without you?”

“The thought had crossed my mind, I must admit. Today something else seems to drive you. What is it?”

Aria met Graeme’s gaze with unbending strength. “I thought of something that could help keep the MacLeods safe. I need to see the smithy to set that idea in motion.”

“I know the smithy. I will introduce you.” Graeme indicated with his head the path they needed to follow. He kept pace beside her until eventually he slowed as they came to a shed on the outskirts of the village. Graeme stopped and dismounted, taking his horse’s reins and securing them loosely to a shrub surrounded by grass.

Aria did the same, allowing the horses to graze in their absence as they made their way to the blacksmith’s shed. While it was still early morning, the smithy was hard at work. The pounding of a hammer on an anvil came to her as quickly as the rush of heat as they neared the wide-open doors.

They stepped into the shop with high ceilings. Various metal items hung on the walls lined with horseshoes, nails, hooks, swords, axes, and armour. Those items did not hold her attention as her gaze singled out the firepit where red-hot metal glowed in the flames.

As though suddenly sensing their presence, the smithy looked up and when he saw Graeme, he set his hammer down and came towards them.

“Good morning, Varrick,” Graeme greeted the tall, slender man.

“Master Duff, what canna I help ye with this mornin’? ’As yer horse thrown another shoe?” His dark eyes searched Graeme’s face with interest until he spotted Aria. His gaze shifted to surprise as he appraised her critically. “Ye must be the fairy woman we’ve all ’eard about.”

“Part fairy. Part MacLeod,” she corrected him.

“Meant nae offence, m’lady. Yer a sight tae behold.” He bowed his head. “’Ow canna I ’elp ye both? If it isna shoes ye need.”

Aria withdrew from a secret pocket in her dress the object she’d gathered from her chamber before leaving Dunvegan, holding out the palm-sized sapphire in her right hand. “I need some jewellery made. Special jewellery.”

The smithy shook his head. “I donna work with stones. Only metal.”

Aria took a step closer. “This is payment for what I need made.”

The smithy’s brows came together as he leaned towards the sparkling gemstone. “’Tis worth a fortune, that jewel. Could buy meself a new forge and live comfortably the rest of me days.”

“It is all I have, and I would gladly part with it if you could make two infant bracelets from pure iron, as well as a hundred adult-sized bracelets of iron.”

“Pure iron?”

“Aye.”

The smithy frowned. “It’ll take some time.” His gaze moved about his shop, touching on the objects hanging on the walls. “I must melt things down.”

“The bracelets can be simple. A strip of metal with a simple twist will be adequate. The two infant bracelets and twenty adult bracelets I would need right away. The others we can send someone to fetch later this evening. Is that a possibility?”