In a fit of rage, Lachlan thrust his hips forward to buck her off, but she only laughed, as if it were a child’s game.
Whatever substance she had given him was still infecting his brain, and the sudden movement caused his head to spin. Shadows clouded his vision, and nausea pooled in his gut. He shut his eyes and felt a trickle of blood flow down his cheek and slowly seep into his ear.
When at last the dizziness subsided, he glared up at her. “Are you going to gut me like a fish?” he asked. “Will that satisfy your twisted need for vengeance?”
“Nay, that would be too easy. What I really want is for you to suffer. For many years to come.”
She reached for one of the bones that had fallen onto the gravel beside him, picked it up, and whispered into his ear again.“I know about your wife.”Using the edge of the bone, she scraped the blood off his cheek.
Lachlan’s nerves turned to ice. He lay frozen beneath her with raging fury.
“I know that she died a painful death, giving birth to a son,” Raonaid continued. “She screamed and cried and would have given anything for the child to survive, but alas, you lost them both. It was ten years ago to this day. Did you not realize that, when you took that tavern wench to the haystack?”
Of course he had realized it. It was why he had done it. He’d needed the distraction.
“Was she the one who poisoned me?” he asked. “Did you pay her?”
“Nay, she just made it easy for me to pour something into your wine while you flirted and teased her into thinking she was your one true love.”
Lachlan’s lips twitched. He squeezed his hands into fists. The ropes creaked as he slowly pulled with all his might.
“It’s too late to break free now,” Raonaid said. “You’re already cursed. It was done before you woke.”
“You put a curse on me?” He tugged again at the bonds and bucked angrily beneath her.
She stood up and climbed out of the pit, then looked down at him from above. “You killed the woman you loved by planting your seed in her womb, yet you continue to seduce and bed every bonny lassie who crosses your path. You would have beddedme, Lachlan, if I had been willing the first time we met.”
He jerked hard on the ropes. “That was before I knew what a spiteful witch you were.”
She bent forward and picked up the empty pail. “I don’t deny being spiteful, but if I had been easier prey, the deed would have been done before you had the slightest whiff of my malice. How many other spiteful witches have you bedded? Do you even know?”
He had no answer, for he rarely stayed with a woman long enough to discover her true character.
“I didn’t think you would,” Raonaid said, “which is why I have chosen a fitting curse.” He waited in silence for her to explain her wicked conjuring, while a gentle breeze blew across her skirts. “From this day forward, any woman who spreads her legs for you will conceive—without fail—and die a painful death on the birthing bed. There is nothing you can do to prevent it. One night with Lachlan MacDonald will be a death sentence for any lassie foolish enough to fall for your charms, and will bring death to the child as well.”
With that, Raonaid turned and walked away.
Lachlan shouted after her and struggled violently, but she did not return. Her footsteps faded into the night.
Hours later, his eyes fluttered open with the rising sun, and he was no longer bound by the ropes. There was frost in the air. He could see his breath. His cheeks and lips were numb from the cold.
His head still throbbed. The pain was so profound, he rolled to the side and retched up the contents of his stomach.
Weak and shaky, shivering uncontrollably, Lachlan crawled out of the burial cist and looked around. He was standing on a stone cairn, at least forty feet in diameter, somewhere in Kilmartin Glen. He looked down. A small circle of tiny standing stones formed a ring around the grave, and farther out, a second larger circle of taller stones encompassed the entire cairn.
Lachlan blew into his hands to warm them, then touched the dried blood on his cheek.
Staggering across the loose bed of stones, he made his way to the edge, where the grass beyond was blanketed in a crusty layer of frost. He dropped to his knees and collapsed onto his back. Blinking up at the morning sky, he pondered the situation.
He was not a superstitious man, and he had never believed in Raonaid’s gifts the way Angus had, but how could he live like this? What if there was truth in the curse?
Rolling over and rising up onto his hands and knees, he coughed and struggled awkwardly to his feet. As he made his way back to the village, he vowed that he would find Raonaid again. No matter how long it took or how far he had to travel, he would find her. One way or another, he would force her to lift the curse.
Maybe he’d threaten to kill her with it.
Aye…that would certainly inspire her. The notion gave him strength.
Chapter One
