“So all of this,” she waved vaguely, indicating the space around them. “Is part of Scotland, right? So how come the king hasn’t helpedyou against the raiders? That’s how things work in this time isn’t it?”
Rosaline laughed softly. “Ye touch on matters of politics that are as tangled as an unwound ball of yarn. Clan allegiances change as quickly as the tide, and Skye has been pulled one way and then the other over the years. But we are closely allied with the Donalds of Islay, and Jamie Donald, the current chief and Lord of the Isles is our liege lord. As for why they dinna help us? I’m sure they would if they had men and resources to spare, but Islay and Barra are as beset by the raiders as we are.” She shook her head and sighed. “I’m afraid we are on our own.”
Jenna reached over and clasped the older woman’s hand. “Not on your own. I swear I’ll do everything I can to restore the magic.”
Rosaline squeezed her hand and smiled. “I know ye will, my dear. Ye have a kind heart and a bright soul. Not many people would be willing to do what ye have, to leave behind yer family, yer husband and bairns, to come and help us.”
Jenna blinked. “Actually, I don’t have either,” she said carefully.
Rosaline gave her a strange look. “But ye must be in yer twenties at least! And ye are unmarried?”
“Yep. And I’m not an outlier or anything. It’s perfectly normal where I come from.”
“Oh,” Rosaline said, looking slightly scandalized. “I see. But ye must have other family ye have left behind. A mother? Father?”
Jenna shrugged. “My mom died. I never knew my dad. He left when I was a baby and my mom always said it was for the best. Apparently being with a MacFinnan spellweaver is a little too much for most men.”
Was that the problem with Alex? She’d never shown him her magic and he had no idea about her abilities, but that didn’t mean he might not have subconsciously picked up on it. Might that have been what drove him to cheat on her? Might it have all been her fault after all?
Don’t be stupid!she told herself savagely.How can you blame yourself for what that bastard did? Aunt Elise would kick your ass if she knew you were thinking such things!
“I’m sorry, my dear,” Rosaline said, patting her hand. “Ye must miss yer mother very much.”
“I do. But I have my two aunts, Rose and Elise. They keep me on the straight and narrow.”
“And they are spellweavers like yerself?”
“That’s right. They taught me everything I know.”
Rosaline let out a slow breath. “My. Ye must be quite the formidable trio.”
Formidable? That wasn’t exactly how Jenna would describe her slightly dysfunctional family. Elise was a free spirit who didn’t give a damn what anyone thought of her, but she drifted from job to job, place to place, never really settling down or finding a direction in life. Rose was the opposite: house, marriage, career as a nurse. On the surface she had it sorted, but in reality her marriage was on the rocks and she and Uncle Dennis had been going to couples’ therapy for months.
No, formidable was not the word Jenna would use. Add her own shit-show of a life into the mix and the phrase “barely holding it together” would be a more appropriate way to describe her family.
But she missed them all the same.
“Yeah,” she said. “Something like that.”
With a sigh, Jenna opened the next book in the pile, but she’d barely begun to read when heavy footsteps drummed in the corridor outside. Jenna looked up just as the door was flung open and Arran came bursting in, skidding to a stop on the flagstone floor.
Rosaline’s hand flew to her chest. “Arran! What is it?”
“Where is—?” His gaze fell on Jenna and his shoulders slumped as the tension leaked out of him. “There ye are. Are ye well? Unhurt?”
“Of course I’m unhurt,” Jenna replied, puzzled.
“Good,” he breathed, running a hand through his tousled hair. “That’s good.”
He looked exhausted. There were rips and tears in his clothing andhe was spattered with mud. And, as Jenna looked closer, she saw that he was spattered with something else, something rust-colored.
Blood.
Rosaline had seen it too. She rushed around the table, grabbed her son by the arms, and looked up into his weary face.
“By the Saints! What’s happened, Arran?”
*
