But why would Kieran wish to stay away? Would it be upsetting to him? Should she be worried, as well?
True to his word, Kieran had kept his distance throughout the day.
Yet her eyes didn’t stop searching for him.
She watched him help with the cattle judging.
And she clapped when he gracefully lost the hammer toss to Ewan (thougheveryonelost to Ewan, so losing gracefully was generally the only option).
She noted when he lingered and talked with an elegant lady who was a friend to Lady Aster.
Would she, at least, see Kieran tomorrow?
In the morning, she and the Brotherhood would pile into carriages, traverse the two-hour journey to Aberdeen, pause for luncheon, and then meet with the Judge Admiral and procurator fiscal. She would see Cuthie and Massey for the first time in six years and hear their testimony. The Judge would likely ask her questions aboutThe Minerva’s sinking, events she still could not remember.
And then, the Judge would decree whether she would be formally charged with murder.
Just that word . . .murder.
It shot terror up her spine and chilled her blood.
Murderess.
And not just one man, but an entireshipof them—sailors she had worked alongside and laughed with over cups of grog and—
She swallowed.
What do ye want?
She wanted Cuthie and Massey to not condemn her with their testimony.
She wanted to know she hadn’t been responsible for sinking a merchant ship and killing 127 men.
She wanted to feel whole again.
She wanted to rememberwhyshe had wished to marry Kieran MacTavish.
She wanted a future free from the looming black terror and abruptly unsettling memories that lashed her senses.
This was the problem with wanting . . . once you opened yourself up to possibilities, it never ended.
Sometimes, it was safer to want nothing. To aim for the security and safety that a life with Simon promised and let the rest be.
And yet, did she even want that anymore?
Until she knew for certain . . . she waited.
At her side, Simon remained blissfully unaware.
Shestillhadn’t told him of the potential charges against her. If she was exonerated, then she would be free. If she wasn’t . . . well . . . she would be taken to gaol to await trial, conviction, and hanging.
Simon would surely return to Yorkshire, eternally grateful he had not allied himself with a murderess.
But . . . what if?
What if she were found to be not guilty? Or what if the reasons for her actions were justified by law?
Such an outcome seemed nearly impossible, but . . . what if?
