If he were here, he would gently touch her elbow and whisper that all would be well. That she was safe. That the past was past. No need to dwell on it.
And then he would hold her hand and talk about the dreary weather and Mrs. Bryant’s upcoming garden party until the fear eased. Until the blank numbness reasserted itself, and she felt equal to face her future once more.
But Simon wasn’t here.
How was she to manage this nameless terror on her own?
She swallowed back a lump in her throat.
“Eilidh,” a soft voice murmured near her ear.
She jumped and twirled to find Master MacTavish standing close beside her, eyes concerned. He clasped his hands behind his back, as if forcibly restraining himself from touching her.
“What are ye afraid of?” he whispered, leaning toward her. “Why this anxiety?”
She hated him in that moment. That he knew her so well that he could nearly pluck the thoughts from her head.
“Why do ye cringe from these memories?” he continued. “As I’ve said, I promise ye—there isgoodin them.”
She shook her head. “No. Ye may have known me aboard the ship, but ye didn’t see me in that villager’s hut, trying tae come to terms with it all. Ye didn’t see the aftermath of my injuries—my miscarriage, my headaches, the terrors that would grip me. I don’t want it.” She hugged her arms to herself. “I don’t want those memories!”
“Eilidh—”
“No! What does it even matter?” She threw her arms in the air. “Why does it matter if I remember or not?”
“Because ye willhang,” he sputtered. “I have not searched and scoured andsufferedin order for ye to hang for this crime!”
“Why are ye convinced I will hang for a crime I didn’t commit? You are not without friends and connections, men who claim to bemyfriends, too.” She pointed a finger to her chest. “Why not have more faith in our justice system? You claim to know me so well, so why not trust that the truth will prevail? Let Cuthie say what he will, but we both know that I didn’t blow up that ship—”
“Are ye so sure?”
“Of course, I am!” she nearly shouted. “The very idea is preposterous. I would never deliberately harm so many men.”
“Even if your memories are as dark as ye suspect?”
She hissed, flinching back, his words striking true.
“No,” she said, though her words were more bravado than knowledge. “Not even then. I have recovered a few memories of Mr. Chen. He was a good, kind man—”
“Aye. He was.”
“I would never have harmed him. This entire accusation is absurd. I didn’t destroyThe Minervaand her crew.”
Master MacTavish placed his hands on his hips, head shaking back and forth.
He lifted his pale eyes to hers.
“That’s the problem, I ken,” he said. “The woman ye are right now—the person ye see yourself as—she likely would not have blown up a ship. But Jamie? The woman I know? The woman I love?” He tapped his sternum. “ThatJamie absolutely would have blown upThe Minervahad she had a good enough reason—”
“Pardon?” The sheer audacity of such a statement stole her breath, sending her accent tumbling. “Ye actually thinkIdid it?!”
“I dinnae know.” He took a step closer. “That’s why I keep pushing ye tae remember. Would you have done it if ye deemed it necessary? Even with Mr. Chen aboard? Aye. Ye would have weighed the facts and made a decision.”
Eilidh struggled to rally her thoughts beyondhuhnnnnnn.
Finally, she straightened her shoulders. “In that case, is it any wonder I don’t wish to remember? If that is the woman I was, then good riddance.”
15
