Page 144 of Tales of Highland Loyalty

Her eyes questioned Fiona's closely. Fiona stared blankly, then nodded.

"I do, but I want to hear it from ye. I want everything, Nora. Details."

Nora nodded, and taking another wee dram, she composed herself.

"Aye, it was my father's plan. Has been ever since I've been wee. To avenge the murder o' my mother by the Duncan clan."

Fiona sat up, pale-faced. "Yer mother? Murder?"

Nora found herself equally perplexed. "Aye, Fiona," she said softly.

Was it wrong that her stomach was drawn into a knot? There was so much here that irked her. Neither William nor his sisters seemed to have the faintest idea of their clan doing anything wrong.

Resolving to flatten down her anger, Nora continued. She was dismayed to find it so corrosive after yet so long.

"Aye, Fiona. A raid by the Duncan clan killed my mother. It was done on the say o' yer father." Nora's eyes twinkled. She could not help it. After all this time, the hate was still so strong. She had grown up hating the Duncans, and although she no longer did, the remnants of pain were still there.

Fiona opened her mouth to say something, but she did not.

"Well, I nay longer hate yer clan," Nora told her. She thought she had better get this out of the way quickly. "But for years, I did. 'Twas how my father taught me. An' he taught me more besides. He taught me hunting, an' killing. Killing a man..."

A deep intake of breath came into the room. Both she and Fiona breathed together. Suddenly, the drafty room became hot and intense.

"Ye killed a man?" said Fiona, then she softened.

"Practice," said Nora grimly, although it had not been exactly planned. "It was defensive."

She clutched her handkerchief to quell the shaking of her hands. It unnerved her that after so long, the feelings were still there. The memories of that night—the fear as she plunged her knife into his heart. Now she was shaking and sobbing so much that even Fiona felt moved to come to her.

"Some brigands. They attacked my father, at the hunt. I had to…"

Her voice trickled away to nothing. Everything came flooding out. Nora tried to control it, but she could not.

"And then, well, I was groomed for it—marriage, the wedding—an' then…"

Nora pressed on the cushion she was clutching and squashed it tight. She could not bear it, but she made herself look at Fiona.

"He made me. There was nay question. I even tried to beg him to stop this, but he wouldnae. He said he would kill me an' William. If ye kent my father, then ye ken it is true he would do so!"

Fiona sat beside her, not quite touching, but almost. She nodded. "I ken," she said.

Nora gulped. "So then, the day o' the wedding dawned. Och, Fiona, I just couldnae," she said simply. "Because by then, I was quite in love. I love yer brother. I couldnae kill him, an' in truth, e'en if I didnae, I couldnae have slain him anyway. Please, ye must believe me!"

Fiona withdrew from her side, immediately getting up to walk around the room. She paced to the window, fanning her skirts around thoughtfully. Then she turned.

"I believe ye," she said quietly, thinking.

Nora's heart leaped, but then it fell again. It did not matter if Fiona believed her when William did not. She looked at Fiona expectantly.

"An' I will tell William what ye have said, Nora, but..." Her face was serious, but beneath the frown, just the faintest imprint of a smile was visible.

But Nora was still beside herself. "Tell him I love him," she blurted. It was so clumsy, so cheap, but it was also the truth. "Please, make him believe it. I couldnae ever have gone through with it!"

Moving forward, Fiona eyed her slowly. "Aye," she said, with a nod. "But Nora, I cannae make him believe me." She smiled bleakly. "Or ye. But I can try."

And with that, Fiona filed out, with not even a backward glance. Once again, there was a rustling of keys and chains and some small talk with someone beyond the door that Nora realized, belatedly, must be a guard.

Sitting back down on the bed, she sighed, a deep nausea taking her. That she had not had anything to eat in a long time barely figured, though. She felt starved in her heart.