“Do you think she might regret what she did?”
Catherine considered it, then shook her head. “She did not indicate that to me. She offered no apology, so as far as I am concerned, this is the end of our association. I will wash my hands of her. I don’t ever want to see her again, and Raonaid should not have to see her, either.”
Catherine looked up at Lachlan’s beautiful, arresting face and was again tempted to draw him close, to lead him to the bed and lie with him for a while.
He turned his gaze away, however, and she had the distinct impression that he would not welcome her advances.
Spotting the plate of sugar cakes on the windowsill, she moved past him and reached for one, but took one look at it and felt her stomach turn. So much had happened. She had no appetite, so she set it back down.
“What do you want, Catherine?” Lachlan asked, striding forward across the carpet. “Why are you here?”
Her heart throbbed painfully in her chest. She was so desperate for him, she could have dropped to her knees and wept. “Isn’t it obvious?”
“Not to me,” he said. “The last time we spoke, I told you that the curse was lifted. Then you were reunited with your sister. We finished what we set out to do—we each got what we wanted—so I believe we are done with each other now.”
Catherine shook her head. “Please don’t say that.”
“But you know it’s true. Ours was a strange situation. You were lost, and I was cursed. We needed each other in ways I still do not understand, and probably never will, but it’s over now. And you were right about the proposal. I’m sure that one day, I will thank you for turning me down, and you will be very glad that you did.”
“You don’t mean that,” she said.
He pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head, as if this was just as difficult for him as it was for her.
She took a few steps closer. “It’s not that I didn’twantto marry you.…”
His eyes lifted, and she saw pain and confusion in their depths. “What are you saying now, lass?”
“I’m saying that I didn’t think you were proposing to me for the right reasons. You thought I was going to carry your child for nine months, and then die. Surely you understand why I said no.”
He nodded. “I do.”
But everything was so different now, she thought. There was no curse. There hadneverbeen one. Couldn’t they start over? Perhaps he could court her properly. She would have her own money soon, and she was of age. She didn’t care that he was not a suitable husband for her. She would soon be a woman of independent means, and she could do whatever she pleased.
But did he still want her? That was the question, and there was only one way to find out.
She took a few careful steps forward and laid her hands on his chest.
***
Raonaid ran her hand up and down one of the ornately carved bedposts in her private guest chamber and was positively awestruck by the superb workmanship. She’d never seen anything like it before.
The room was paneled in dark cherry oak, with arched windows that overlooked a small courtyard below. Elegant depictions of swans and peacocks were woven into the drapes and upholstery, and there were at least two dozen candles in gold-plated holders, waiting to be lit.
How odd it felt, to be surrounded by such opulence. It hardly seemed real to her. She felt like an interloper, and yet she had been born into this world. She had the blood of an aristocrat running through her veins; her father was a famous Jacobite war hero—a nobleman who died on the battlefield at Sherrifmuir.
Angus, her former lover, had fought in that same battle, and she wondered suddenly if he and her father had had the opportunity to meet. Perhaps they had ridden beside each other into battle.
It was a strange thought—how they were all connected in the most mysterious ways.
Tomorrow she would go with Catherine to the stone circle where their mother had begun her labor. There, in that sacred place, Raonaid would try to evoke a vision that might help Catherine regain her memories.
Raonaid feared what she would see, however. What if she envisioned her mother’s death or a thousand other painful moments from the past? Was it not possible? Now that she knew where she came from, a whole new world of visions might open up to her.
A knock sounded at the door just then and she realized it was getting dark in the chamber, so she quickly lit a candle.
“Just a moment,” she answered. When the wick absorbed the flame and a warm, golden light infused the room, she called out to the visitor, “Come in.”
The door opened, creaking on its hinges, and a stout older woman stepped across the threshold. She was dressed in black, her hair pulled into a tight knot at the back of her head. She regarded Raonaid in the ghostly light of nightfall, then covered her face with a trembling hand.
