Why had I not done as planned?
The question bounced around my mind and unleashed the guilt of the past I strove to keep buried. A memory rose unbidden—ice cracking, a scream, my hands reaching but finding only empty air. Suddenly, I was on the frozen loch by my home, watching as the dark waters claimed my sister.
“Why are ye crying?”
Bess’s voice penetrated my memory and made me blink. Was I crying? I reached up and sucked in a breath at the tears on my cheeks.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice breaking.
“Ye saved Bess,” Guinn said, confusion clear in her voice. “Why are ye sorry?”
How could I explain? I couldn’t tell them that seeing Bess fall, hearing her scream, having Munro angrily point out how my not sticking to the plan had caused Bess almost to get terribly hurt, had all torn open a wound I’d spent years trying to close. The sound of ice cracking filled my ears again, as real and terrifying as it was that day.
“Lisette!” My sister’s name tore from my throat, a cry of anguish that startled the birds from nearby trees. “Lisette, nae!”
It was that day all over again. I was there watching the ice give way beneath her feet, the surprise and fear on her face as she fell into the water. My screams echoed across the frozen loch as I lunged forward to try to save her. The wool of her cloak brushed my fingertips just before she disappeared. Terror gripped me, and for one breath, I couldn’t move. Was that the breath that had cost my sister her life?
I’d tried to warn her once I’d realized the ice was too thin. I’d told her to stay back, but she’d ignored me. Pain ripped through me, and I doubled over, trying to push the memories away, but the past wouldn’t be quieted this day. I saw myself belly-crawling across the groaning ice. My fingers curled with the remembered cold, and my heart pounded against my ribs. I moaned at the flash of myself plunging my arms into the jagged hole, searching, searching. The water numbed my skin instantly, but still I clawed at the darkness, feeling nothing but the cruel bite of winter.
“Lisette!” I screamed again, my voice raw. “Lisette, please!”
A hand on my cheek dragged me back firmly to the present. Bess stood before me, eyes wide with concern. “Murieall,” she said, her voice steady in a way that reminded me she was older than her years, “ye’re scaring me.”
I realized I was still clutching her, and my fingers were digging into her small shoulders. I released her immediately, scrambling to my feet and away, my breath coming in gasping sobs. I looked between Bess and Guinn, and then finally to Munro. He stared at me with parted lips and wide eyes. “I’m sorry,” I choked out. Shame washed over me in sickening waves. “I should nae be caring for the lasses. I should nae be trusted with them. I killed my own sister!”
“Ye did nae kill anyone,” Guinn said with a conviction that pierced my grief. “I do nae believe it.”
“Ye’re good,” Bess said, stepping toward me despite my retreat. “Ye make us feel safe.”
“Aye,” Guinn agreed, moving closer as well. “More than anyone since Mama.”
I knew they were trying to comfort me, but their words made it worse. They were innocent. They didn’t understand. They couldn’t see that I was broken, dangerous, and cursed. Just as Iled Lisette to her death through my carelessness, I would bring harm to these sweet lasses if I remained in their lives.
“Nay,” I gasped. “Ye do nae understand. Stay back!”
“Murieall,” Munro said, stepping toward me, but I turned and ran. I had only one thought—put distance between myself and the children. My skirts tangled around my legs, but I pushed forward, my breath tearing from my lungs in ragged gasps.
Behind me, Munro called my name, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t face him or the girls. I was unworthy of the trust they had given me. It was so clear to me now. The earth tilted beneath my feet as I tried to outpace my memories and guilt, and when the ground sloped downward, I struggled to stay steady as my pace increased. I careened off the hill and into the clearing into oncoming riders, and I froze as men shouted, horses neighed, and I braced myself for the impact of hooves against flesh.
I was jerked backward so hard that my breath was knocked from me.
“God’s blood, woman!” Munro said, his breath warm against my ear. “Are ye trying to get yerself killed?”
For a moment, all I could register was the sensation of being held, of being safe, of being pressed against someone strong enough to stop my headlong flight into disaster. And then I became acutely aware of his solid arm wrapped around me that sat just beneath my breasts. His body heat seeped through the layers of my gown, and his scent, fire and wood, invaded me.
Something shifted inside me. Heat pooled at my core, and a tingling trickled through me. God’s blood, I desired this man. Of all the men and all the times, this was terrible, but I could no more stop my reaction to him than I could my next breath. The hard planes of his chest pressed against my shoulder blades as my blood rushed through my veins in response.
I was wicked to feel desire when I should feel only grief, to want when I deserved only punishment, and to want a man Iwas not supposed to. It made me cry harder, great heaving sobs that shook my entire frame. Munro tightened his hold on me and pulled me more firmly against him.
“Easy,” he murmured, his voice gentler now. “Ye’re safe.”
But I wasn’t safe. And I would never be safe again with the ghosts that haunted me, the curse that followed me, and with the unwanted heat that flared within me at his touch. I struggled against his hold, though part of me, a part that shocked me, wanted to turn into his embrace rather than away from it.
“Let me go,” I pleaded, my voice a broken whisper.
To my surprise, he didn’t release me entirely, but instead turned me to face him, his hands firm on my shoulders. We were so close that I could see the curl of his lashes, and that his nostrils were flared slightly from chasing me. His eyes searched mine, and his brow furrowed with what looked to be concern rather than anger.
“Come,” he said, guiding me away from the road and the curious stares of his men, who sat mounted and silently watching us. “There’s a place just there, beneath the oak.”
