The shrill voice outside the wall behind her caused Coira to leave off gathering the herbs the healer had requested. While carefully plucking tender leaves, she had been able to ignore the world around her. A few moments of peace, alone in the sunny walled garden, were all Coira had sought this morning, yet it appeared she was to be denied even those.
As she pulled herself back to her surroundings, the thought occurred to her that distraction and concentration might be the key to achieving a barrier against the emotions of the people around her, such as those of the women outside the garden’s high walls.
Coira sighed and rose, steeling herself against the lapping wavelets of irritation and mistrust moving toward her like a rising tide. Some people projected such strong feelings that Coira’s senses could barely register anything else around her. This woman was one of those, though Coira got nearly as much from her shrill voice as she did from the disdain that felt like icy spray hitting her skin. Surely, this woman and whomever she was speaking to would pass by soon.
“Ye mean the one named Coira,” another voice answered the shrill one quietly. “I do wonder what really happened in the Highlands, eh?”
“And what about these rumors I’m hearing?”
The rumors again? Would they never die down?
Shrill’s spike of irritation added icicles to the sea spray sensation. Coira fought to keep her breathing even and slow.Please go on by. Dinna come in here.
“I canna guess what news ye might be hearing,” the softer voice answered. “Tell me!”
“The lass was so difficult before she was sent away that no man here would have her. No man there, either, it seems, since they sent her back to us.”
Shame, hot and deep, speared Coira through the gut. If only she could erase the person she’d been from everyone’s memories. Though she wanted to protest that she’d changed, she held her tongue and thought about sandbars and offshore winds, clear sunny days that flattened the sea into a shimmering mirror. Her breathing slowed as she began to feel calm. In moments, she realized something was happening. Like a tide going out, the shrill one’s onslaught was receding, diminishing.
“She’d best no’ get any ideas about the laird here, mind ye.” Shrill’s voice penetrated the soothing image she’d built in her mind.
Coira couldn’t help reacting. She stiffened, but remained silent as the harridan continued, her disdain breaking through to Coira like water breaking through a dam—a trickle at first, but growing fast.
“She failed to become the Lathan lady, or she wouldna be back.”
The truth of that pinched at Coira, deeply and painfully.
“She willna be so exalted here either,” the soft-voiced woman’s tone dripped sarcasm. “What makes her think she’s so special? Other lasses—that Campbell chit for one—would be a better match for the clan. At least, there we’d gain an alliance that might stop the Campbell raids. If our laird lasts much longer as laird, that is.”
What?What did she mean, “…if he lasts much longer as laird”? Coira nearly bolted to the gate, to see who spoke, but caution held her in place. If they knew she overheard, they would not reveal anything else. She wanted to clench her fists, but that would amplify her own emotional state, which was far from the calm she’d almost achieved.
But this woman seemed to know something. Her certain tone chilled Coira in a way that even the shrill-voiced woman had failed to do. She knew something about a threat to Logen. Coira tensed and opened herself, questing, sensing as much as she could, no matter the discomfort. Aye, the soft-spoken woman was unsettled. Ambitious. For her husband? But fearful, too. That Logen would prevail? Or someone else would? She had no way to tell, short of reading the woman’s thoughts, which Coira could not do.
Her shrill companion felt quizzical, dissatisfied. Then they moved away and Coira groaned in frustration. What did the soft-spoken woman know?
She dared not follow. They would see her and know they had been overheard. And if the soft-voiced woman really did know the conspirators, realizing that Coira had overheard them might put Logen in immediate danger. Nay, she could not follow them.
But she had learned something valuable from the encounter. As she had tried to do with Logen, willing herself to serenity, or as close to it as she could achieve, seemed to have a similar effect on the women. Almost as if her own calm was contagious, she’d felt their agitation lessen slightly. Or had she simply begun the process of learning to build the walls she needed to block out such people? Either way, it was a step in the right direction.
Should she stay and finish her task? Or find Logen and tell him what she’d sensed? Nay, she didn’t know enough yet. But what she’d overheard had been fair warning. As if she needed any. The clan watched her—or some faction of it did. She dared not approach Logen too openly or she would invite more of the disdain the shrill woman had so enjoyed heaping upon her. Coira’s shoulders slumped.
To be talked about was bad enough, but to be discussed so openly and so cruelly, stung. Unbidden, tears wet her face. How could she ever hope to belong here when she could know, merely by passing nearby, how any person, in their most private thoughts, felt about her? Why had the Healer done this to her? Truly, she gave Coira no gift, but a lifelong punishment. Suddenly defeated, Coira ran for her chamber.
Chapter 4
Logen pored over the clan’s books. From the state of the records, the last lairds had given the clan’s wealth little attention, save for what use they could make of it. That would have to change, and the task would fall to him to untangle the mess they’d left behind. He’d enjoyed learning mathematics at St. Andrews, but he needed different skills for thisaccountingthan anything he’d studied there. He wasn’t sure he knew where to start.
The clatter of running feet broke through Logen’s concentration. When he didn’t hear the sound of children’s laughter along with the clatter, he became concerned. The noise out in the hallway could be a welcome diversion, or it could mean more trouble headed his way. Logen stepped out of his solar just in time for Coira to slam into his chest.
“Oh!” As she bounced off, her hands flew up to cover her mouth, garbling her exclamation.
Logen reached out to steady her. “Where are ye goin’ in such a rush, lass? What’s amiss?” By the saints, she was crying! She kept her gaze on the floor, but the tear tracks on her face were unmistakeable, as were the hiccupped sobs she fought to choke back.
“’Tis nothing to concern the laird...to concern ye,” she said softly.
Logen heaved a rueful sigh. “Everything about this clan concerns me, lass. Now, where were ye headed?”
“Upstairs...to my chamber.”
