She met his eyes, then sat back in the chair, crossing her arms over her chest. “I don’t know what happened that night, and that is a truth that I cannot change. I—I haven’t betrayed his presence, though it is my own family, my clan, my kin, I deceive. A dead man crawls in and out of my window without my leave to do so, and still I have kept my silence.”
A smile suddenly flashed across his dark features. “So, of course, you are glad that he’s alive.”
Shawna flushed and hissed softly, “Of course I’m glad that he’s alive.”
He suddenly seemed satisfied and stood, indicating with a sweep of his arm that she should precede him from the office. She did so. When they entered the great hall, she found Alistair in the act of charming Sabrina Conner, while Lowell and Gawain were giving Skylar Douglas a description of the Highlands in contrast to the Lowlands and of the frequent historical differences between the two regions regarding policy and politics. “Oft enough,” Gawain was saying, “the Lowlanders were first to accept the English ways, and English rule—they were low on the border there, you see. Many lairds in those parts came from England, and their financial holdings are entwined with English interests. ’Twas the Highlanders—mainly—kept fighting for the cause of the Jacobites, protecting the rights of the Catholic strain of the line. Now, of course, we’ve laws to protect the religious interests of all our people, but it was often the Highlanders who hid the priests when they were in perilduring those olden days when religion and politics were often one and the same.”
“Aye, and the Highlanders were the ones who practiced witchcraft as well,” Lowell commented with a twinkle in his eyes. “We’ve still a number of witches about the place.”
“Witches?” Skylar inquired.
“Uncle Lowell,” Shawna protested, entering into the conversation, “you’ll give Skylar the wrong idea.”
“They are witches,” Lowell muttered.
Shawna smiled. “He is referring to those ladies who practice Wicca, not to broom-riding crones who would cast deadly spells upon the earth.” She gave her Uncle Lowell an exasperated frown.
Smiling at Skylar, Alistair explained further. “Before the advent of Christianity, so many peoples settled here. Gaels, Picts…the Scoti from Ireland who gave our country its name. Druids ruled here, the Norse invaders brought their old gods, and in the days before Christianity, many people practiced Wicca.”
“The earth is honored in the religion,” Shawna said, “along with Mother Nature, and herbs are used for healing, stones give strength, and beauty and peace are found in the ground, sky, and water themselves.”
“We burned our last witch just about a century ago,” Lowell commented. Her great-uncle was teasing her, Shawna saw. Taunting her because she liked to defend the right of people to live as they chose. Lowell was a staunch member of the Scottish church, and that was that.
She imagined he might like the idea of burning witches once again.
Hawk Douglas slipped his arms around his wife. “Many of the Wiccan practices are similar to our Sioux beliefs,” he mused.
“If Wicca is such a benign religion, what caused the furor over witchcraft?” Sabrina inquired, accepting a glass of wine from Gawain as they began to draw together.
“Satanists!” Lowell advised, adding a dark roll to his voice.
“Father,” Aidan said patiently, smiling at their visitors as well, “the point here is that Satanists and witches are not one and the same.”
“The Pope,” Gawain offered dryly.
“Gawain, y’canna go blaming the Catholic Church—” Lowell began with irritation, but Alaric nobly interrupted in his father’s defense.
“Uncle, I don’t think my father intends to attack the Holy Roman Church,” he assured Lowell. Alaric, sound and steady as always, intended to allow no real arguments here before guests.
Whereas Alistair loved a good rousing discussion, Alaric was quite Victorian in his outlook—dignity and protocol above all else.
Gawain, however, seemed in a peaceable enough mood himself—though he did intend to get his point across.
“I greatly respect the Roman Catholic Church, brother, but I can’t change history! At one time there were two popes—men can be corrupt creatures, even in God’s own church, and in all the frenzies of righteousness that have gone on in past centuries, men who were not corrupt were sometimes misled. Then, whether ‘holy’ in calling or not, there existed men within the Church who were simply cruel, thriving upon the pain and agony of others. In the 1400s, there was a document called the Malleus Maleficarum, decrying the practice of witchcraft, and the hunt was on. Witchcraft became associated with devil worship—two different things, the gentle practitioners of true Wicca will assure you. In Spain, the Inquisition brought down thousands upon thousands of innocents. Our own James—that would be VIof Scotland and I of England—was terrified of witches, and they were persecuted fearfully.”
“Uncle Gawain!” Shawna applauded. “How very well explained.”
“Aye, for yer great-uncle Gawain is fond of Edwina McCloud, who, it is whispered, heads a coven of witches here in our midst.”
Gawain eyed Lowell sternly. “Right is right,” he said sternly, sounding very much like the staunch Scotsman, and still his words brought laughter from them all.
“Why, Father! I did not know!” Alistair said. He glanced at his brother Alaric. “Did you?”
“Aye, I had a few ideas.”
Alistair sighed. “Father likes you better!” he said teasingly.
“Father trusts him more than you not to taunt an old man to death, and that is that!” Gawain said, drawing laughter from them all. Shawna found herself smiling, actually relaxed and happy. Although eccentric and strong individualists, her family could be charming when they chose to be so.