Raonaid gave no indication, however, of any such suspicion. She merely regarded him with challenge, as if to suggest it washerjob now, too, to protect Catherine. Not his alone.
He supposed, if she survived, he and Raonaid would have to share that responsibility in the future, because he was not about to give it up.
“Put your worries to rest,” she said at last. “She did not try to kill the prince.”
His eyes lifted as a welcome wave of relief washed over him. “How can you be sure?”
“I saw it in a vision,” she explained. “A full year ago, though I believed I was seeing myself. I was often confused by my visions, and believed they were false. I did not always trust them, for I saw myself walking in her shoes, wealthy beyond my imaginings. But now I realize it was always Catherine I saw. Shesavedthe prince, Lachlan. It was the flaxen-haired man who wanted to kill him. Catherine tried to stop him, and when she fought him, he tried to kill her, too.”
The deepest realm of Lachlan’s gut heaved with rage and aggression. He spoke in a low, quiet voice laced with a dark undertone of fury. “Who is this man? I will find him.”
Raonaid shook her head. “You cannot.”
“Don’t tell me what I cannot do,” he warned.
Her eyes flashed with confidence and satisfaction. “He is dead.”
The news came as a surprise, and Lachlan had to work hard to calm his temper and his breathing. “How? Who was he? I must know.”
Raonaid leaned forward and laid a hand on Catherine’s forehead, gazing down at her with sorrow and compassion. “He was her husband, Lachlan. That is all I know. And I am glad he is dead, for he was not kind to her.”
***
Am I dead?Catherine wondered, struggling relentlessly to lift her heavy eyelids.
No, I cannot be dead, for in heaven there could not exist this pain.
Her entire left side was throbbing. She felt like she’d been stabbed, yet all she could think of was the blinding light that had warmed her soul when the world stopped spinning.
Butoh,there was also an excruciating pain in her left arm. She couldn’t move it. It was wrapped in some sort of splint.
At last, she opened her eyes and lifted her arm, curious to look at it. Confused and groggy, she gazed up at a frescoed ceiling. There were gods, angels, and clouds.… The sky was a lovely shade of gray blue.…
“Sweet God in heaven.”
His mouth covered hers, and Catherine lifted her good hand off the bed. She slid her fingers through his hair to hold him close, to kiss him lovingly in return.
Lachlan.Her beautiful Highlander. The man who had come from far away to rescue her from the strange empty black oblivion of her existence.
“I remember,” she said as he drew back and sobbed over her shoulder, weeping endless tears of joy. “I remember everything.” She ran her hand over his hair and stroked the long dark locks away from his tearstained face. “Am I going to live?”
“Aye,” he replied, laughing and kissing her on the mouth again. “You’re going to live, lass. You’re awake now, and the doctor says you are strong.”
“Well, I would have to be, wouldn’t I?”
He laughed joyously, and his dark eyes gleamed with gorgeous flecks of gold. “I always said you were a survivor, and here you are, so lovely. So alive. Do you remember what happened to you?”
Yes, she remembered running with her sister, away from the circle of standing stones. There was a gunshot, and an explosion of pain in her back.
“Murdoch shot me.”
“Aye, but your sister stopped him before he could finish what he started. He came after you again, but she saved your life.”
“How?”
“She dirked him, from a very great distance, and hit her mark. It was an impressive strike. She’s quite a woman, that sister of yours.”
Catherine touched his cheek. “But you hate her.”
