“Understand him?” Catriona turned so fast she bumped the lantern and almost knocked it from Gaersa’s hand. “I’m sorry for what Father must have done to him. Truly, I am. But I cannaunderstandnor forgive the monster he is—no matter his past.” No one could erase the cruelties Calum must’ve endured but nothing excused his perpetuating those cruelties on to others. “I love ye like a mother, Gaersa, but I beg ye, dinna return to this accursed room if your sole intent is to lecture me on turning the other cheek to my brother. I’d rather die and rot here than hear another word, ye ken?”
Gaersa acknowledged with a somber bowing of her capped head. “I understand.” Her gazed drifted to the hearth as she held the lantern between her hands. “Calum has sworn to keep ye here until Jameson Campbell arrives and the two of ye are wed. Campbell has promised a strong alliance to Clan Neal in exchange for a wife and a dozen or so of our best horses, so ye should be safe from your brother’s wrath for a bit.”
What Gaersa said couldna be right. The old housekeeper must have misheard or gotten her information from an ill-informed rumor. Gordon Neal, her father, would never part with a dozen of his best horses. The herd of select and bred with the greatest care beasts had always been his pride and joy. 'Twas the one intelligent thing he’d ever done for the clan. The Neal herds were famous across Scotland and lusted after by many.
“I canna believe Father agreed to such,” she said as she broke a stick across her knee then added it to the fire. Duff had left her little fuel. She’d have to make the stingy pile of spindly bits of branches last as long as possible. “I know Calum told him of the betrothal.” With another stick, she stirred the fire. “He mentioned it. Seemed pleased because Calum told him he’d gotten Campbell to accept me with only a quarter of my dowry.” She rose from the fire and faced Gaersa. “But there’s no way he’d agree to losing his horses.”
“He doesna have to agree,” Gaersa said. “Your father is dead and Calum is now our chieftain.”
“Dead?” Catriona staggered back then sat on the bed with a hard bounce, her knees gone weak with all that had happened. “When?”
“This verra night.” Gaersa moved to the door, paused, then nodded toward the cloth of bread and the skin of water setting on the bed beside Catriona. “Eat, Catriona. Ye must keep your strength, aye?”
“For what reason?” Catriona snapped. “Why should I prolong this misery?”
The news of her father’s death came as a watershed for the clan, barraging her with its own disturbing emotions: a sense of relief and finality but also chilling fear and dread. Implausible as it was, her situation had become even more dire. Calum had seized the chieftainship, ignoring the Neal elders and their advice. What would happen to the innocent people of Clan Neal now? Head throbbing and no tears left to cry, Catriona shoved the food and water to the end of the cot, sagged across the pallet, and curled up into a tight ball. “Dinna bring any more food, Gaersa. I dinna wish it, aye?”
Gaersa huffed out an angry grunt, then stomped forward and gave the spindly leg of the cot a hard kick. When Catriona ignored her, she latched hold of the footboard and shook the ramshackle bit of furniture until Catriona believed it would surely collapse beneath her. “I’ll no' listen to such talk, Catriona Elizabeth Rose Neal. Ye’ve always been a fighter. Strong. Proud. Fearless.” The old woman stepped back, her ample chest heaving as she gasped out her emotions. “Daren’t ye make my beloved Murtagh’s death be in vain, ye ken? Daren’t ye give up now and abandon hope. ‘Twould sully his memory and I’ll no’ have it.” She stomped her foot and jerked the lantern higher, the spindly bit of iron and glass swinging from her fist. “Do ye hear my words? I’ll no' have it! Ye are no' the first woman ever promised to a man she didna ken and I’ll wager ye’ll no' be the last. 'Tis no' the worst thing that could happen to ye, aye? Think of your poor brother and all he’s endured.”
Catriona sat bolt upright on the cot, rage fighting for supremacy among the storm of emotions roiling through her. She pointed toward the door. “Get out. I’ll hear no more defending of poor Calum and his cruel choices. And I'll bear none of your heartless scolding about how I should count my blessings. The way I see it, I have little to celebrate this evening. My strongest of allies is gone, and those I thought I could trust have betrayed me.” The hopelessness of her situation and the overwhelming sense of all she’d lost shook through her as she rose with both fists clenched and shuffled forward until she stood nose to nose with Gaersa. “Hope is lost, ye heartless old woman, and the enemy has won. Tell those who can do so to pack their things and escape this place, for God only knows what level of Hell waits for us here.”
Gaersa backed up a step, eyes wide and double chin softly trembling. “Ye truly believe the MacCoinnich will abandon ye? Think ye so little of the man and his sense of honor?”
Catriona was no fool. Gaersa was but changing tactics in a weak attempt to return to Catriona’s favor. No more. She’d ne’er trust Gaersa again. No' after the way she’d defended Calum’s actions. “If Alexander has any ‘sense’ at all, he’s already breached the northern pass and isna foolish enough to look back.”
Life had betrayed her. Catriona trembled as she stared up at Gaersa. “Was your sole purpose in coming here to torment me? Ye regale me with my sire’s cruel perversions, tell me to forgive Calum’s ruthlessness because of his sufferings, and then hold out false hope about the only man who ever stirred my feelings?” She turned away from Gaersa and stared up at the moonlit window, then made a backward stabbing motion toward the door. “I told ye to get out. Leave me, Gaersa, and dinna come back.”
Gaersa didn’t respond but the sound of her footsteps shuffling out the door and its quiet thud when she closed it told Catriona that the old housekeeper, the woman she’d once trusted and loved as kin, had at last given her what she’d demanded: solitude.
As the keys jangled in the lock and the tumblers clicked and clanked into place, Catriona closed her eyes and bowed her head. With a hard swallow, she resolved to cry no more tears. Today had been a day of revelation and hard-learned lessons. Somewhere deep in her soul, she suspected Gaersa had been the one to betray her to Calum. She hated to think it was true but Gaersa’s visit had planted that belief solid in her heart. If that were so, Gaersa had sealed the death of her husband and was just as much to blame for Murtagh’s murder as Catriona.
Catriona stared down at her hands folded in her lap, remembering Alexander’s oath to Murtagh to keep her safe. She replayed his anguished shouting of her name from beyond the gate and the terror she’d seen on his face when he had realized all was lost. Alexander had truly cared for her. And now he was gone.
