A shudder went through Cailean. He felt like weeping. He felt like bellowing. He felt like roaring his frustration at the sky. But all he did was squeeze Beatrice’s hand in response.
Was she right? He didn’t know.
“And if I canna?”
She fixed him with a stern glare. “Then ye will have lost something precious, something most of us never find in our lifetimes. And it will shrivel ye inside. Ye wish to be a good laird? A good father? Then ye need to be happy. Open yer heart, Cailean MacNeil. Allow the sun to shine inside. Allow Rose MacFinnan in.”
Cailean didn’t know how to reply. These were the last words he’d expected from her. He’d expected her usual words of fire and brimstone, proclaiming that what had happened to Catriona was some sort of judgment from God and that it was his fault for giving into the sin of lust.
But it wasn’t lust, he realized suddenly. Not lust. Something else entirely.
It was love.
*
Rose ignored everyonewho waved to her or called her name as she descended along the winding path down the hill through the village.
Cailean’s work crews were out helping to clean up the mess from the last storm. Rose stepped around crates of supplies, piles of blown debris and collapsed rubble, and kept herself focused on her destination.
She reached the bottom of the hill and kept going, picking her way through the tussocky grass and then down the sand dunes, onto the beach, and right up to the water. She didn’t stop until the cold waves were lapping around her ankles, soaking the hem of her dress.
“Lir!” she screamed into the wind. “Answer me, damn you!”
There was no response except the hiss and whoosh of the waves. Rose’s nostrils flared, and a hot surge of anger went through her. Fine. She would rather it hadn’t come to this, but she was left with no choice.
She lifted her hands and, gripping the knife in her right hand, shesliced the blade against the palm of her left, wincing at the sudden sting of pain. Curling her fingers, she made a fist with her left hand and squeezed. A trickle of bright red droplets ran down her fist and drip, drip, dripped into the sea.
“Lir!” she bellowed, accessing her power and sending it rushing through the waves with the power of her blood. “I summon you! Answer me!”
Blood magic was the most dangerous form of magic. Since she’d been a child, she’d been told never, ever, to use it. It bordered on dark things and was seductive in its power. Rose had never used it. She had never even considered it until now. But she’d do anything, anything to help Catriona. To help the people of Barra.
To help Cailean.
She waited. Around her, the day was becoming bright and breezy, with fluffy clouds scudding across the sky like sheep. It seemed peaceful, but Rose wasn’t fooled. She knew all too well the fury and darkness that lurked beneath the seemingly peaceful scene.
Suddenly, the feel of the air changed. There was a boom as of a door opening and closing and then a gust of wind battered her so strongly that it almost sent her to her knees. It dissipated as quickly as it had come, and when it was gone, a voice spoke by Rose’s side.
“Ye called?”
Rose turned her head. Lir stood beside her, silver eyes fixed on her, hair blowing in the wind. Although the goddess’s smooth face was expressionless, Rose could feel the annoyance coming off her in waves. Lir, it seemed, didn’t take too kindly to being ordered around.
Well, too bad.
“I did.”
Lir glanced at the Rose’s sliced palm and the blood still dripping from it. “Blood magic?” she said, curling one elegant eyebrow. “Ye of all people should know how dangerous that is. There are others who might have answered such a call, others who ye wouldnotlike to meet.”
“I wouldn’t have had to take the risk if you’d bothered answering when I called!” Rose snapped. “Or in fact, if you’d given me any help at all rather than just dumping me here and leaving me to fend for myself!”
Lir cocked her head, seeming slightly puzzled by her outburst. “I didnae leave ye without help, Rose MacFinnan. All the help ye need, or ever will need, is right by yer side. Ye know this, I think, even if ye willnae admit it, even to yerself.”
Cailean. She was talking about Cailean. His face flashed through her mind, but she pushed the image away ruthlessly. She would not be distracted. Nor would she let this goddess tie her in knots.
“You know what I’m talking about,” she growled. “You knew the sickness was caused by a curse all along. Why didn’t you just tell me? It could have saved a lot of trouble and heartache.”
It might have saved Catriona, she thought.It might have stopped Cailean’s heart from breaking with guilt and despair. It might have…
She stopped the thought. What-ifs and might-haves would only drive her crazy.
