“Aye, we’ve both suffered at your brother’s hands…though what I believed a curse tae you in your marriage became a blessing—ah, Magdalene!”
Cora stared at her as if suddenly remembering something while Magdalene sensed at once what she would say.
“Gabriel spoke to Seoras of a family curse, three generations of MacLachlan wives dying tragic deaths beginning with his grandmother! Do you know aught of this?”
Magdalene gave a small nod as a chill rippled through her—but she refused to be anxious this night after so bold and miraculous a victory!
“I’ve heard mention of it from the servants, but I’ve had no chance tae ask Gabriel what happened tae them—”
“I’ll tell you what happened! I couldna believe my ears! Gabriel told Seoras that his poor grandmother fell down the stairs and broke her neck, his mother went for a swim and drowned in the lough, and Malcolm’s wife died from burns after her gown caught fire in the kitchen. Seoras only laughed, the heartless brute, and told Gabriel he didna believe in such curses any more than the moon was made of goat’s cheese! Gabriel tried again tae argue against marrying you, not wanting that tae be the cause of any woman’s death, but the bargain was struck.”
The bargain was struck.
The words clamoring in Magdalene’s head, she swallowed hard but refused herself to believe in such superstition.
“They could have been accidents, each one,” she murmured, wincing that Cora held her hand now so tightly. “A terrible coincidence—”
“Mayhap, but you must take care when you return home, Magdalene.Pleasetake care.”
“And you, Cora,” she insisted quietly, trying to steer her away from talk of curses. “Will you stay here?”
Cora shook her head and looked down into the bailey as a great shout went up at whatever King Robert must have said. “I’ll return tae my family. I canna wait tae leave this place, and the king will surely choose one of his own as heir to the fortress. Thankfully I carry no bairn and no MacDougall will ever rule here again, I’m certain of it—och, Magdalene, look!”
She followed Cora’s widened gaze to Cameron being thrust forward by Gabriel to stand beside Robert the Bruce—who clapped the strapping warrior on the back as another rousing shout went up from Campbells and other clans alike.
“He’s chosen Cameron as baron of the fortress—my own cousin!”
Aye, so it seemed, King Robert rewarding Gabriel’s captain—och, a captain no more!—right then and there for saving his life. He leaned over and spoke to Conall, too, his hand upon the younger Campbell’s shoulder, but Cora didn’t wait to see anything more. She turned from the window and drew Magdalene with her.
“Their clamoring and talking will go on until morning…and there are bodies tae bury and a feast tae be finished in the great hall. I’d feel so much better if you’d accept my offer and sleep in a more comfortable room down the hall from my own—”
“I’ll stay here, Cora, where Gabriel knows tae find me.”
“Very well. Sleep peacefully, Magdalene. I will for the first time since I came here, God be praised.”
Cora gave her a warm hug and then left the room, her faithful maidservants waiting for her just outside the door. More shouting went up outside, just as she’d said, which made Magdalene return to the window and close the shutters.
A last glance into the teeming bailey gave her no glimpse of Gabriel, which made her heart hurt.
She loved him so. When would she ever have the chance to tell him? Would they leave soon to return to MacLachlan Castle? Would he ride out instead with King Robert, and she wouldn’t see Gabriel for months as the battle for Scotland’s freedom surged on?
That thought almost made her begin to weep, but such was the life of warriors’ wives. She would accept it gladly for even a few precious days together first—och, enough!
Gabriel was alive and well when he might have been grievously injured or killed, Magdalene sinking to her knees beside the bed and bowing her head in fervent thanks.
Chapter 24
“Magdalene…”
Gabriel’s weary whisper stirring her from sleep, she rolled over in bed to find he had already stripped out of his clothing and pulled back the covers to climb in beside her.
She scarcely waited for him to lie down, and threw her arms around him—only to hear him grunt in pain.
“Oh, Gabriel, no! Are you hurt?”
“Bruised is all, wife. Better than wounds that draw blood or maim, but sore, all the same. I could use some of Clovis’s poultices—”
“Ah, God, tell me what I need tae do! I’ll stoke the fire and heat up some water for warm cloths—”
