“Iwas but sixteen when I lost my heart. The mon was no good, but I refused to seethat. Weel, my heart did. My head kept telling me to be careful, but I was toofevered to heed that good advice. Didnae heed anyone else’s good advice either.He was tall, strong, and handsome. I thought I had ne’er seen a bonnier face.”
“Isuppose Ruari Kerr does have a bonnie face,” Sorcha murmured.
“Oh,aye, ‘tis pleasant enough”—Neil exchanged a quick grin with Sorcha—“To make along, dreary tale short, I loved that rogue with all the blind heat a younglass can muster. My own good sense and the warnings everyone gave me proved tobe true. He didnae abide with me long. We were handfasted, but that was just sohe could share my bed without one of our kinsmen threatening his life. The mondidnae e’en stay the year and the day. A few months and he disappeared into themists, ne’er to be seen again.”
“Howis it that I ne’er learned of all this?”
“Iwas living with my sister Fenella in Stirling. Once I realized the fool wasnaereturning, I came back here. ‘Tisnae spoken of because no one wished to openold wounds. Now that I have spoken of it, I realize those wounds are healednow.”
“Iam sorry, Neil.”
“Nay,no need to be sorry for me. I was sorely hurt, but once the pain eased, Irealized I had no deep regrets. I had myself a fine time while that rogue waswith me. Aye, I would cleave the maggot’s head in twain if I e’er saw himagain, but I am now able to recall all that was good, and those are some verrasweet memories.”
“Iam not sure I understand what ye are telling me,” Sorcha shivered and wrappedher arms around herself in a vain attempt to protect herself from the chillair.
“WhatI am trying to tell ye is that ye should do as ye please.” She draped her armaround Sorcha’s shoulders and nudged her niece toward the keep. “‘Tis growingchill and damp. We had best go inside. Staring at those two willnae change whatis to be. ‘Tis all in their hands. And your own fate is all in yours.”
“Ruariwill be gone soon,” Sorcha said as she fell into step with her aunt.
“Weel,our lads willnae reach Gartmhor until the morrow or the next day,” Neil said. “Thenthey must discuss the ransom, and then it must be gathered. The Kerrs will needabout three days to come here. So ‘twill be a week, mayhap more, ere Sir Kerrleaves. Ye dinnae have to ransom Dougal until twelve days from now. I supposeye can continue to hide and your problem will ride away in a short while.”
“Or?”
“‘Tisup to you, lass. True, ye think the mon can ne’er be yours and ye are probablyright. What ye must ask yourself is which ye will regret the most—followingyour heart, taking a wee chance no matter how small it may be, or continuing tohide and never even trying to grab what ye want.”
“Hardchoices.”
“Verrahard. But, ye will ne’er be faulted for whichever one ye decide to take.”
“Thankye for that comfort, Aunt. Mayhap I shall wander up to the great laird’schamber and see how he fares. Another visit with the arrogant fool may be all Ineed. But first, have ye seen Effie?”
“Thechild huddles in the great hall. She was banished from the kitchens thismorning and refuses to understand why,” Neil replied as they entered the keep.
Sorchasighed, broke from her aunt’s light hold, and strode into the great hall. Shehad spoken to Effie at least once a day since her return to Dunweare, but thechild was not interested in listening. The girl’s own mother, Eirie, had beenreduced to tears just yesterday out of pure frustration and some fear for herchild’s sanity. Just as so many others had, Eirie had thought her daughterwould cease to speak of being a changeling once she was on the threshold ofwomanhood.
Shefound Euphemia curled up on a bench near one of the narrow windows encirclingthe great hall. The girl looked so forlorn, Sorcha felt a strong tug ofsympathy, but hastily shrugged it away. It was time to be firm, even scolding.There may have been too much kindness and not enough authority. Mayhap Effiehad been too coddled.
“So,here is where ye have come to sulk,” Sorcha said, sitting on the stone sill ofthe window.
“Iam here because I have no wish to speak to anyone,” Effie grumbled, staringdown at her hand, her lower lip protruding in a childish pout.
“Whatye wish matters verra little to me just now.” Sorcha almost laughed at theshocked look the girl gave her. “‘Tis far past time ye ceased feeling sorry foryourself and gave a wee bit of thought to others.”
“Andwhy should I think of them when they drive me away?”
“Theydidnae drive ye away. ‘Tis just the mean spirits ye are tugging about that theydinnae want.”
“Therearenospirits!” the girl cried, leaping to her feet, her delicate handsclenched into tight fists.
“Sitdown,” Sorcha ordered, a little surprised when the girl obeyed her. She staredinto Euphemia’s big blue eyes and saw a deep fear lurking behind the childishexpression of defiance. “It seems verra strange that ye can believe in fairyfolk and changelings, yet not believe in spirits.”
“Ibelieve inyourspirits.”
“Howkind. Euphemia, if there are well-behaved spirits who do little more than visitand talk, why cannae there be ill-tempered spirits who make noise, stealthings, and toss things about?”
“Weel,they can just go and trouble someone else.”
“Thatwould be fine indeed, but they willnae. Ye are changing from a child into awoman—“
