Mairi held up a finger as she emptied her cup in a long-drawn-out swallow. She smacked her lips and lowered the cup, cradling it to her chest. “Correction. Ronan is not a cowardly lion.” She shook her head as she weaved her way back to the table and the precious pitcher of port. “He’s the wimpy wolf.” She flipped her hand in the air as she slopped a healthy splash of wine into her glass. “In fact . . . he’s probably even neutered because the man has no balls when it comes to telling the truth—that’s for damn sure.”
“I daresay getting blind-ass drunk is not going to help this situation.” Granny strode across the room in short clipping steps, grabbed the pitcher off the table, and clutched it in a possessive hug.
“It sure as hell can’t hurt it.” Mairi finished what was left in her glass and held out her hand. “Give me the pitcher, Granny.” She shook her head and licked her lips. “You know damn well I have earned it.”
Granny’s knuckles whitened as she held the pitcher tighter. “So, you finally know all the details of the curse. So what? What has that got to do with the fact that you and Ronan love each other and are meant to be?”
“He doesn’t love me.” Mairi slammed her glass down on the table, stumbled over to Granny and yanked the pitcher free. “If the man really loved me, he would’ve told me the truth from the very beginning—shared what was really going on instead of hiding every damn detail. You don’t hide shit from someone you really love. That’s how you know when you’re reallyinlove. You both share all your stupid bad shit and then laugh because none of it matters. All that matters is that you love each other and are willing to bare your souls and wage your battles against the world together.” What a dumb-ass fairy tale.Now that she’d said the words aloud, her beliefs regarding love sounded stupid even to her. “I’m an idiot. I should’ve known stuff like that just doesn’t exist.”
She peered down at the meager amount of wine left in the pitcher. To hell with a glass. She slurped down what was left of the wine then wiped the back of her hand across her mouth and belched.
“Lovely.” Granny shook her head, then clamped a hand around Mairi’s upper arm. “You need to sleep this off. We will talk further when your ability to reason is not polluted by alcohol.”
“There is not a damn thing wrong with my r-reasoning.” Mairi stumbled over to the bed and bounced down on the mattress. The tears she’d been holding back finally broke free. “How can you expect me to love a man I can’t even trust? Besides—what difference does it make? He’s probably going to leave me before I can leave him anyway.” She covered her face with both hands, vainly attempting to staunch the hot tears rolling down her cheeks. “Great. And now I’m a crying drunk. Thanks a lot, Granny.”
Granny deflated with a heavy sigh as she settled down on the bed beside Mairi. With the softly clucking sound she always made when frustrated, she pulled Mairi to her chest and smoothed a shaking hand across her hair just as she’d often done when Mairi was a child.
With a hiccupping sob, Mairi breathed in the soft, comforting scent that was always Granny—a soothing mix of crisp clean cotton and fresh-cut herbs—always lemon balm and mint. Granny barely rocked to and fro, humming the same disjointed tune she always sang to the sisters whenever they were upset. Mairi hugged Granny tighter as the tears increased to an uncontrollable torrent. “I’m sorry I cussed at you. I really am sorry. But it’s just . . . he’s just . . . why can’t he really love me?”
“Hush, gal,” Granny shushed as she pecked a kiss on the top of Mairi’s head. “My old heart breaks to see you so unhappy.”
“I just wanted him to love me,” Mairi whispered with a shuddering sigh. “Why can’t he . . . ?” Tears and heartache overrode the ability to speak. Dammit to hell and back. Why couldn’t he really love her?
CHAPTER28
Without opening her eyes, Mairi patted the bed until she located another pillow. Thank goodness.Her fingers sank into the depths of the downy blob and she pulled it over her face. Never again.She slowly filtered in a deep intake of air through the pillow then eased one leg over the side of the bed and settled her bare toes firmly on the cold floor. That helped. A little. A maniacal demon was still attempting to jackhammer its way out through her eye sockets, but the old foot-on-the-floor trick stopped the bed from spinning.
Coira’s nauseatingly cheerful voice shattered the stillness of the room. “Good morn, Mistress Mairi. Time to rise and shine.”
Sharply clicking heels, rattling china, and a jarring out-of-tune whistle urged the demon inside Mairi’s skull to rev the jackhammer into high gear. She cringed against the pain and clutched the pillow tighter over her face. Maybe if she stayed quiet, Coira would think she was dead and would go away.
“Up with ye now. I’ve brought ye a bit of breakfast and then we will see to yer washing. A brisk scrub in a bit of loch water will fair set yer heart to pumping, I’ll wager. Especially since Rabbie said the ice was nearly thick as two of Cook’s fingers.” Coira ripped the shelter of the pillow out of Mairi’s hands and beamed her brightest smile as she continued, “And Cook has verra fat fingers.”
“Go. Away.” Mairi draped an arm across her face and swallowed hard against the bile burning at the back of her throat. If she got through this morning without puking, it would be a miracle.
Coira clucked like a nesting hen while yanking the coverlet off Mairi. “Ah now. None of that. Up wi’ ye. Mother Sinclair said ye might be feeling a bit poorly so she brewed ye a strong cup of willow bark tea.”
Mairi licked her lips and swallowed hard. Dammit.Her cotton-dry mouth tasted like someone had shit in it. She rubbed a hand across her face and gingerly eased up to a sitting position.
Coira’s high-pitched humming raked jagged nails across her raw nerve endings. The thunder of her blood pounding inside her head sounded like a herd of stampeding elephants about to run her down. And she wished they would. Death by trampling didn’t seem like such a bad way to go right now. Mairi squinted one eye shut and held up a hand. “Quiet. Please.” She held on to the edge of the nightstand and slowly stood. Her stomach rebelled with such a nauseating gurgle; she broke out in a cold sweat. Son of a bitch, she would never drink again. Mairi eased her way back down to the edge of the bed, keeping her eyes closed against the painful morning light filtering through the window.
“Here, mistress.” Coira’s cool fingers pried her hand away from her eyes and curled them around a small metal cup. “Hair of the dog first then willow bark tea. Ye’ll soon feel better.”
“I very much doubt that,” Mairi whispered past a nauseating hiccup that came dangerously close to triggering a full-fledged gag.
“Drink up.” Coira guided the cup closer to her mouth.
Fruity alcoholic fumes wafted up from the liquid. Mairi quickly pushed it away, turned her head aside, and gagged. “Take it. Now.”
As soon as Coira had rescued the cup from her grasp, Mairi dropped to the floor, yanked the empty chamber pot out from under the bed, and crouched over it on all fours. Dry heaves shook her as she retched over the ceramic bowl, her gagging magnified and echoing from the acoustics of the pot.
“Oh dear.” Coira hurried to the nightstand, poured a bit of water into the washbowl, and soused in a rag. She twisted out the excess water, knelt beside Mairi, and pressed the cold cloth to the back of Mairi’s neck.
Mairi locked her elbows and closed her eyes. “Please just let me die right now so I’ll feel better.”She leaned against the side of the bed, concentrating on controlled, deep breathing as Coira mopped her face with the cool cloth.
“I feared as much.” Granny’s I-told-you-sotone echoed from across the room.
“Can the lecture please wait until I stop puking?” Mairi hugged the chamber pot to her chest as she rolled to a seated position with her back against the bed frame.
