She faced him. “Because I had a dream this morning, and I needed to tell you about it, in case it turns out to be a premonition. Though I sincerely hope it does not.”
“If you tell me you saw my head in a noose…”
Gwendolen quickly shook her head. “Nay, it was not that. It was something else, though it was just as morbid. I couldn’t breathe when I woke.”
Angus laid a hand on her shoulder. “What did you see?”
“My brother,” she answered. “I saw Murdoch floating on a funeral pyre out to sea. I fear he will never return to us now, and my mother will be forced to mourn the loss of her only son.”
A funeral pyre?
Angus recalled his instructions to Lachlan on the day of the invasion. Lachlan was to send MacDonald warriors on a hunt for Murdoch, and do whatever it took to prevent another attack.Whatever it took.
Tears filled Gwendolen’s eyes, and she stepped into Angus’s arms.
“Perhaps it was just a dream,” he said, “and he will return any day.”
Or perhaps not.
He held her close and struggled with his bucking conscience, while he wondered who, at this moment, was the real traitor in this marriage.
The answer was simple, he supposed—for he had put his instincts as a warrior and chieftain before any thoughts of compassion for his wife. Her feelings had not even entered into his decision to crush his enemy, and he was quite certain that given the same circumstances, he would do the same thing again.
Perhaps he had not come so far after all. Perhaps he would always be the same ruthless warrior he had always been.
***
Angus entered the stables, where Lachlan was grooming his horse. “Has there been any word about Murdoch MacEwen?” he curtly asked. “Damn you, Lachlan. Have any of our clansmen returned with news of him?”
Tossing the brush into a wooden bucket, Lachlan wiped his hands on a cloth and approached. “No word yet. Don’t you think I would’ve told you if there was?”
Angus pressed the heels of his hands to his forehead. The air inside the stable was heavy with the scent of hay, leather, and horse. It was stifling and suffocating, and made him want to hit something. “Och,I can barely manage my impatience. I need to know what’s become of him, and I need to know very soon.”
Lachlan eyed him with concern and moved out of the stall. “Any particular reason why? Are you worried because of what Raonaid predicted? Do you think he’ll try to take Kinloch?”
“Until he’s found, he will always be a threat.”
Lachlan rested a hand on his shoulder. “We’re doing everything possible to assure a strong defense, Angus. But if you want, I can send out more men to act as spies.”
Angus considered it, then shook his head and walked to the door. “Nay. We need all our best men here. I’m sure we’ll hear something soon.”
He was still unsatisfied, however, as he strode out of the stables in search of Raonaid.
***
It was like an addiction—this need to know his future—and he could not help but fixate on the extraordinary fact that not one buttwowomen inside the castle walls claimed to have the gift of sight, and he had bedded them both.
But which one was correct about his true destiny?
He found Raonaid in the kitchen, harassing the cook. He waved her over and led her into the stone passageway that led to the hall.
“What do you know of Gwendolen’s brother?” he asked.
He had already decided not to reveal Gwendolen’s dream to Raonaid, for it could be just that—a dream and nothing more. He didn’t want to influence Raonaid’s visions. He wanted to test her.
“I believe that she will choose him over her loyalty to you as her husband,” she said.
He took hold of her arm. “In what circumstances? Why does she not honor her pledge to me?”
