I nodded. I’d have to be satisfied with that. This truth had to see the light, even if it meant harsh punishment for Francine. The weight of her confession pressed upon my chest, making it difficult to draw a full breath. Isabella and Munro’s son had lived. He had drawn breath, had cried out, and then—what? Had Magdalene silenced the infant, or had he died right after birth and his first cry, and she had been afraid that Munro and Isabella would blame her?
“I must confront Magdalene,” I declared, spinning to face James.
James looked at me as if I’d lost my wits entirely. “Are ye mad?” he demanded. “We do nae ken what happened. If Magdalene murdered an infant, her own blood, do ye think she would hesitate to silence ye as well?” He grasped my arm, his fingers urgent but not painful against my skin. “We must approach this with caution.”
I tried to pull away, but his grip tightened. “There’s nae time for caution, and I do nae care about my safety! I only care about getting the truth for Munro.”
The words hung in the air between us, their truth resonating in the small chamber. I loved Munro, and even if he never forgave me, even if he sent me away, at least I could give him the truth before I was banished.
Just as James opened his mouth to respond, the air in the chamber seemed to thicken, and that now-familiar scent of roses washed over me. Then came a whisper, then Isabella’s voice, sharp and clear.
Magdalene pushed me, and Gordon let me fall. They were conspiring to drive me mad and to take the lairdship from Munro. She killed our son because there could nae be an heir in her way. Ye must tell Munro!
The edges of my vision darkened as the horror of her revelation crashed through me. Magdalene had killed the bairn and pushed Isabella off the cliff. Had Gordon known about the bairn? About what his wife had done? Had they planned before the birth that if Isabella had a boy, an heir, Magdalene would kill the child? I moaned at the thought. Isabella had said that ‘Gordon had let her fall’, so no matter what, he was an accomplice to Isabella’s murder. And they both remained at Munro’s side, trusted advisors who had been slowly poisoning him against those who truly loved him.
“Murieall!” James cried, rushing to catch me as I swayed on my feet. His arms encircled me, holding me upright as the shaking intensified. “What’s wrong? What’s happened?”
I couldn’t speak. My teeth chattered with the force of my trembling, and my breath came in ragged gasps that failed to fill my lungs. James pulled me closer, supporting my weight as my knees threatened to give way entirely.
“Breathe,” he urged, genuine fear in his voice. “Just breathe, lass.”
I clung to him, desperate for any anchor as Isabella’s revelation continued to echo in my mind. Before I could find my voice to tell James what I’d heard, the door burst open with a crash that made both of us jump. There in the doorway stood Munro, eyes narrowed and face flushed. Behind him loomedGordon, lips pressed then but with the smallest quirk upward as if he struggled not to smile.
“Munro,” I breathed, trying to push away from James, to explain, but my legs wouldn’t support me, and James dared not let go lest I collapse entirely.
In that frozen moment, I saw the truth of us through Munro’s eyes. Conspirators. Lovers. This scene confirmed his worst fears. And just beyond him stood one of the true betrayers. I opened my mouth to tell him all of this, and that’s when Munro bit out to his uncle, “Take her.”
“Nay!” I yelled before Gordon was across the room and set his palm across my mouth to drag me from the room.
Chapter Nineteen – Munro
I stood frozen on the threshold as my uncle hauled Murieall from the room. The image of what I’d just seen flashed in my mind. James, with his arms wrapped around Murieall, and her body pressed against his chest as if she belonged there. A red haze crept along the edges of my vision as I struggled to draw breath, my hand instinctively moving to the dirk at my belt.
My oldest friend. The woman who had shared my bed. The betrayal knocked the wind from my lungs more effectively than any sword blow I’d ever taken in battle.
“Munro,” James said, stepping forward with his hands raised in that placating gesture one might use to calm a wild beast. “This is nae—”
“Do nae speak my name,” I growled, cutting him off. “Ever again.”
He shook his head, desperation clear in his eyes. “Ye have to listen. We were nae—”
“Nae what?” I spat, taking a step toward him, my body vibrating with the effort to keep from launching myself at him immediately. “Nae conspiring behind my back? Nae planning to make me appear mad to the clan? Nae betraying me and bedding Murieall.”
James’s expression shifted from desperation to dawning horror. “Is that what ye think? That Murieall and I—” He broke off, glancing toward the doorway. Was he looking for his lover? My blood boiled at the thought. “God’s blood, Munro,” he said, glancing back to me, “ye could nae be more wrong.”
“I saw ye with my own eyes,” I snarled, moving closer. “Yer arms around her. Her body pressed against yers. Do ye deny it?”
“Nay, I do nae deny holding her, but ’tis nae what ye think,” James insisted. “She nearly collapsed. I was simply—”
“Enough!” I roared, my patience snapping like a dry twig. “Enough of yer lies!”
My vision narrowed to James’s face, everything else in the chamber fading to shadow. The sounds from the corridor—Murieall’s muffled protests, my uncle’s low, urgent voice—receded until all I could hear was the rush of blood in my ears and my own ragged breathing. All the pain of the past days—Murieall’s confession about her curse, her claims to hear Isabella, the lasses speaking of ghosts—condensed into a single point of fury directed at the man before me.
James took a step back, his hands still raised. “Munro, think. We’ve been friends since we were lads. Would I betray ye like this? Use yer reason, man!”
But reason had fled, replaced by a primal need to hurt as I had been hurt. My hands curled into fists at my sides, every muscle in my body coiling with tension. I shifted my weight, preparing to spring.
“All these years,” I said, my voice low and dangerous, “trusted ye above all others. I made ye my right hand. I shared with ye my doubts, my fears.” I took another step forward, forcing James back again. “And all this time, ye’ve been waiting for yer chance. Watching me drown my grief, waiting until I was weak enough to challenge. Well, do ye find me weak now, James?”
