“How awful!” She pressed his arm. He pressed hers in response. “It cannot be true.”
He shrugged. “If you were laird here, would you take the chance?”
“Surely some do, or your line would cease to exist.”
“Love is not necessary for procreation, Mrs. Blackburn. We wed, but we do not fall in love.” He looked at her for a moment. “Not exactly the stuff of fairy tales, is it.”
“It is—so sad.” She studied his moonlit face. Somehow knowing more about this made him easier to understand. “Surely some of your line married successfully for love.”
“My father adored my mother, and they wed for the sake of real, passionate love, defying the tradition.”
“So the curse does not always come to bear.”
“They were married ten years, a long time in Dundrennan terms. Mother died. The curse won. Tragedy will out.”
“Just the wife suffers?” She frowned. “It is—misogynistic.”
He laughed gently. “Trust that I have utmost respect for the fairest gender. They say that the legend of the princess repeats itself. She died tragically. The prince survived, doomed to live without her, devastated, never recovering from grief. It is a painful tragedy for the husband too, knowing that marriage and the curse killed his wife.”
“Is that that, or part of the natural course of life? Women give birth, and take a risk that way. Often they do not survive their spouses and children because of that fact.”
“You have a point, but Dundrennan’s tradition says that tragedy visits only if the laird loves his wife. We are taught—from childhood, mind you—that love brings tragedy.”
“Then I am sorry for you.”
He tilted his head in acknowledgment. “Those who inherit this place must weigh the risks and decide.” Quietly said, his eyes so steady that Christina caught her breath as their gazes met.
“Is there not a way to break the spell? It is often the case in such tales. A charm, a miracle—a kiss.” She watched him.
He leaned down. “They do say the curse could be lifted if the ancient princess’s true love, Aedan MacBrudei, finds a way to wake her. Not bloody likely. Those two ancients are long gone.”
“Aedan?”
“A family name. Many have carried it. No one has broken the curse, evidently.”
Christina felt the warmth of compassion, even affection, enveloping her. She felt so sad for him, wanted to touch and console this lonely, strong, intense man. He believed he could never find the love he so richly deserved.
Why did she feel this way toward him? She scarcely knew him. He was undeniably attractive and fascinating, but he couldbe infuriating. The road—the stones—his decision to isolate himself all because of some old tradition.
“I would think,” she said crisply, “you are not a man to follow beliefs blindly. You seem to me to be a strong-willed man who goes his own way. Why let an old curse bind you? Why give up on something so precious without knowing if you could have it, without allowing yourself to try?” She stopped, blushed in the dark. “Oh, do forgive me for that.”
“Nothing to forgive. You are honest, and I appreciate it. Until a few years ago, I did not give the curse much credence. I thought it would not affect me. I was not the heir, you see. Then my older brother died, and I learned the power of our tradition.”
“What do you mean?”
“You were wed, Mrs. Blackburn. You have known love.”
“I thought I did. But I was young, and I was mistaken.”
“I had a fiancée,” he said then. “She was a bright and cheerful girl. You would have liked her, I think. She took a fever a few weeks after my brother died and I became the heir. She died but two months later. I did not believe in the curse until that day.”
“I am so sorry,” she said in a rush. “You loved her.”
“I was very fond of her. I wonder now if it was the sort of love that fills the heart like sunshine in a dark place. Do you know what I mean?”
“I think I do.”
“But I cannot allow myself to find out. I will not risk a woman’s life again. Falling in love is unthinkable for me now.”
