“How long a ride?” she asked, her own horse lathered and winded.
“We’ll be there in time for supper if we keep up this pace. Are you able to continue?”
She patted Theodore’s neck and nodded gamely, though she could barely comprehend the notion of what might transpire when they rode through the castle gates. How would she feel when, God willing, she finally remembered all the details of her life as a witch?
Lachlan said the oracle had been jealous and spiteful. Surely the Lion’s wife would not welcome her. The woman might want to scratch Catherine’s eyes out.
“Will the Mistress of Kinloch allow me to enter?” she asked. “You said I called her a manipulative slut. Did I say that to her… directly?”
“Aye, you did,” Lachlan said with a wry chuckle, “just before you shoved her out of your guest chamber and slammed the door in her face.”
Catherine gazed across the distance at the mist-shrouded castle. “Good gracious, what was I thinking? She was my hostess.”
His smile faded, and he frowned. “I am beginning to think I kidnapped the wrong woman.”
“First of all,” she said with a defiant toss of her head, “you didnotkidnap me. If anything, I commandeeredyou.But why would you say such a thing? I must know.”
“Because Raonaid would never care about such rules of etiquette.”
She regarded him warily.
He clicked his tongue and walked his horse down the other side of the ridge.
Catherine watched him for a moment, then followed carefully, wondering again with despair if she should ever have embarked upon this grueling journey. Perhaps it had been a terrible mistake. From everything Lachlan had told her, the oracle was not the least bit likable.
It was a disturbing thought indeed, to realize you could not possibly like yourself. It was equally disturbing to feel utterly disconnected from your own soul.
***
Horns blared from the tower battlements the instant Lachlan walked his horse out of the forest. He was not surprised to hear them. He knew the protocol. He had written most of it himself three years ago, after he and Angus stormed these gates with an army of MacDonald warriors and reclaimed the castle from an enemy clan.
In the months following, Lachlan had devoted his life to the defense of these walls, in anticipation of a retaliatory attack. Then the worst occurred. Their enemies found a way back in—no thanks to Raonaid.
Angus the Lion had triumphed in the end, and Lachlan had celebrated at his side. But that was a long time ago. Everything had changed since the curse. Lachlan had not fulfilled his duties as Laird of War. He had abandoned his cousin and his post in search of the oracle, and at the present moment, he was not entirely sure he would not be shot upon arrival.
Raonaid trotted up beside him. “The horns are intimidating, I must say. How soon before they recognize us?”
He darted an uneasy gaze from one corner tower to the other and took note of a panicked sentry dashing back and forth, calling out orders. “I think they already have, lass, and it might be a problem. You’re at the top of their list of mortal enemies. At least you were when I left here a year ago.”
“Wonderful,” she said. “They’re not going to shoot me, are they?”
“I sure-as-Jesus hope not. You’ll not be much good to me six feet under.”
As they crossed the damp field and approached the bridge, the iron portcullis began to lift. The sound of the pulley and chains rattling through the wheel relieved some of Lachlan’s trepidation, for someone had at least given the order to permit them to enter.
What would transpire on the other side of the gate, however, he did not yet know, for he had not spoken to Angus in over a year. They had not parted on good terms.
The wide oaken doors swung open for them, and they passed under the shaded arched gateway to the open square bailey beyond.
There was a frenzy of activity—grooms rushing up to them, servant women stopping to stare and gossip. Three armed guards dashed forward and aimed muskets at them. The sound of the hammers cocking made Lachlan’s blood run cold, for he was an enemy of Kinloch now.
Dropping the reins, he slowly raised his hands into the air.
“Put your hands up,” he said to Raonaid.
“But I thought this was your home,” she replied as she obeyed his grave command, “and that Angus was your cousin. Is this how he treats family?”
“Iusedto live here,” Lachlan clarified. “And aye, Angus is my cousin, but the last time we saw each other I nearly killed him in a sword fight.”
