His eyes flickered. She felt a rush of satisfaction, seeing the spark of alarm.
The power of her curse reverberated with an unmistakable ring of prophecy, conjured not from sorcery, but from injustice. A power that not even her husband could deny.
The misty wind pelted Elizabeth like icy nails as the water covered her feet…her ankles…and then her knees. She clutched the rope that was now her lifeline as the surge of each wave tried to knock her off the quickly sinking rock.
It was pitch black, but she could feel the water moving closer. Rising. Inch by torturous inch.
How long would it take? She prayed it would be quick. Every nerve ending in her body poised for what would happen next. She couldn’t breathe. It was as if she were drowning already.
Her gaze lifted to the moonless sky.Oh God, please help me!
In cruel heavenly response, the next wave knocked her down, pulling her under. Drenched, she wiped the sodden tangle of hair from her eyes as she struggled to keep her hold on the rock. She tried to stand, but another wave came and pushed her down again.
She slumped forward, losing the strength to fight.Please, just let it be done.
She started to close her eyes, intending to allow the water to take her. Her eyes flickered and then snapped open again.
What was that?A light, she realized. The soft glow of a torch appeared out of the darkness. She held her breath and listened, hearing the unmistakable lap of water off an oar.
Her heart soared.
It’s him. He’s come back. He still loves me. I knew he couldn’t do it.
Using the rope for leverage, Elizabeth found the strength to pull herself to her knees and finally to her feet.
“Here!” she yelled. “Husband, help me, I’m here!”
The sounds of the oars quickened as the boat headed toward her. The excited exchange of voices grew louder and louder until the small fishing boat—
Realization struck, followed hard by crushing disappointment.It wasn’t him. Her husband had not returned.
As her eyes scanned the shocked occupants of the boat, she realized her life had been spared by fishermen.
“My lady?” one man asked with surprise.
Not just any fishermen, she realized.Herfishermen. Campbells.
She laughed then, giving in to the hysteria that had threatened in the darkness. With tears streaming down her face, she laughed until she thought her sides would tear apart. The irony was bittersweet. A life had indeed been taken tonight, but it would not be hers.
Elizabeth Campbell—for she would never call herself a Maclean again—did not drown that day. She lived long enough to be returned to her brother’s house and to see the surprise on her husband’s face when he arrived at Inveraray Castle to break the news of her “unfortunate death” to her family. But there was precious little satisfaction in defying death on Lady’s Rock—as the place of her attempted murder became known. For it found her not long after. She died not from the rising tide, but of a broken heart. With the amulet that had been ripped from her husband’s neck as her brother took his life clutched in her hand.
But Lady Elizabeth Campbell’s legacy lived on, passed down with the amulet from generation to generation.
Chapter 1
Near Falkirk, Scotland, Spring 1607
“Second thoughts?”
Flora MacLeod turned her gaze from the window to peer into the darkness at the man seated opposite her. She never had second thoughts, which—given that it was too late to change her mind—she supposed was a good thing. No, once she made a decision, she stuck with it. A small army couldn’t turn her from her course. In the matter of her marriage, there was no exception.
“Don’t be silly,” she replied. “I couldn’t be happier.”
It was clear, however, that her soon-to-be husband, William, Lord Murray, son of the newly created Earl of Tullibardine, didn’t believe her. “Happy? I haven’t seen you so subdued in months.” He paused. “It’s not too late to turn back, you know.”
But it was. She’d made her decision the moment she’d snuck out of Holyrood House and scrambled into the waiting carriage.
“I don’t want to turn back.” But the vehemence she’d intended was lost when her voice vibrated with the clattering carriage. A carriage that was fighting to stay upright on the uneven road. She grabbed the seat as best she could when they hit another bump and tried not to crash sidelong into the glossy, wood-paneled walls. A battle she was sure to lose before this day was done. The road leading from Edinburgh would only get worse as they neared the parish of Falkirk.
