Gwendolen began to pace back and forth. “You are guessing these things,” she said, “the same as anyone else might do.”
Raonaid gave no reply.
Gwendolen watched her from across the room. The woman was like some kind of animal. Everything about her was predatory.
“How is it that you experience these visions?” she asked, moving to a chair and sitting across from Raonaid. “Are you having one now? Is that why you ask me these things?”
“Nay, I’m not having one. I’m just reading you.”
Gwendolen leaned back. “So youarejust guessing.”
The oracle shrugged. “I’m very good at it, and I base everything on the visions in the stones.”
“But what, exactly, do you see in the stones? How does it happen?” Gwendolen thought of her own dreams that often foretold future events. There was nothing strange or mystical about them. They were just dreams.
“I see the events unfold through shadows and light,” Raonaid explained, “and the meaning is always clear to me. I feel it.”
“Do you hear people talking?” Gwendolen asked. “Or do you ever read words in the stones, as if they were written in a book?”
Raonaid shook her head. “Nay, I just see shadows and movement.”
Gwendolen wanted very much to prove that Raonaid was mistaken about her morbid premonitions, for she could not bear to imagine that Angus would die, nor could she accept the possibility that she would be responsible…
“I think what you might have seen,” she carefully suggested, “were images from a letter I wrote the day after Angus invaded Kinloch. I pleaded with Colonel Worthington at Fort William to come with an army of redcoats and drive him out by force. I wanted him to be hanged for treason as a Jacobite. I was very clear about it, and I did this after I promised Angus that I would not betray him.”
It was a difficult thing to confess to this woman, of all people, but she wanted her to know the truth.
Raonaid tilted her head to the side. “Does he know of this?”
“Aye. Colonel Worthington came here and showed him the letter. Angus immediately confronted me about it, and I confessed my guilt, and he forgave me.” She clasped her hands together on her lap. “So you see, I am not perfect. I was deceitful, I admit it, but things were different then. For that reason, I believe what you saw in the stones was a vision of those events as they were unfolding, and that Angus is no longer in danger—at least not because of me.”
Raonaid’s cheeks flushed with color. She stood up and walked to the window. “You confuse me.”
Gwendolen stood up as well. “That’s good! If you are not sure…”
Raonaid whirled around and pressed her lips together. “I see through you, Gwendolen MacEwen,” she growled. “You are his enemy. You want to crush and destroy him because he conquered your clan. He disappears from the stones because of you. There is no escaping it. I saw what I saw. Even now, he is as good as dead.” Tears of fury stained the oracle’s eyes and choked her voice.
Gwendolen thought carefully about what Raonaid was describing, then moved closer and spoke in a gentler tone. “Maybe he just disappears fromyourlife, Raonaid. Perhaps that’s all it means.”
The oracle darted forward and pushed Gwendolen out the door. “Get out!” she shrieked.“Get out of here!”
Gwendolen stumbled backward into the corridor, and the door slammed shut in her face.
It took a moment for her to recover her composure. She smoothed out her skirts and ran a shaky hand over her hair, then closed her eyes and took a deep, calming breath. She had never encountered anyone quite so volatile before. Clearly Raonaid did not respond well to separations.
“What are you doing here, Gwendolen?”
She jumped at the sound of her husband’s voice at the end of the corridor. Her body tensed at the awesome sight of him. His thick, tawny mane of hair was tied back off his shoulders. A round shield was strapped to his back. In addition to his usual arsenal of weapons, he held an axe in his hand.
Heaven help her, even through the haze of her confusion and anger, she still believed him to be the most handsome and impressive Scotsman alive. He never failed to upset her equilibrium.
For that reason, she could not let him continue to doubt her. Nor could she tolerate any further attacks on her honor and dignity. She was carrying his child now, and had assured him that she would never betray him. If what Raonaid said was true—that Murdoch would come with an army to reclaim his birthright—it was important that they stand together and trust one another. There could be no dissension, becausethatwas where the chink in Kinloch’s armor would be found.
She faced him and spoke with a sharp note of accusation in her voice—for it was not lost on her that they were both standing outside Raonaid’s bedchamber door.
“More importantly, what areyoudoing here?” she asked. She strode forward to meet him at the end of the corridor. “Are you looking forme? I certainly hope so, because we have much to discuss. But if you are here to see Raonaid—who just called me a manipulative slut—I might have something very different to say to you. So which is it, Angus? Are you here to see me? Or did you come to see her?”
Chapter Twenty
