Page 17 of Highland Ghost

“What does it matter? Listen to yerself, ye fool. Ye ken as well as I what is goin’ to happen to ye if ye are no’ married by midnight on All Hallows’ Eve. Tell her. Then, mayhap, she’ll change her mind and save yer life.”

“She’ll only prolong my life. And then we’ll both die in two years’ time. Nay.” Ian stared out the window, shaking his head. “It wasna right of me to trick her into marryin’ me in the first place without tellin’ her the consequences if we didna fall in love.”

“Mayhap no’, but ye’ll have two full years to fall in love before the ghosts came back again. Tell her, Ian, or I will.”

“Nay, ye willna!” He spun around and stormed over to his cousin. “Promise me, Finn, that ye willna say a word to Caitlin about my fate. I dinna want her put in that position.”

“Dinna make me promise that, Ian.” Finn clenched his jaw and shook his head. “I canna do it. I willna let ye die.”

“Promise me. Ye are the only true blood relation I have left.”

“And that is precisely why I dinna want to make this foolish promise. I want to help ye, Ian, no’ lose ye forever.”

“Do it,” he warned Finn, pulling his dagger from his side. “Ye either make the promise no’ to speak a word of this to Caitlin, or I’ll be forced to take yer life right now.”

Finn pushed Ian’s hand away, knocking his dagger to the floor. “Now I ken that ye’re truly addled. How dare ye threaten my life when all I was tryin’ to do is save yers. Dinna worry, Cousin. I willna breathe a word of this to Caitlin. That is, no’ until I’m standin’ with her starin’ down at yer grave!”

He left the room angry, and it hurt Ian’s heart to have to part with his closest relation this way. The only way to stop Finn from spilling the rest of Ian’s secret was to anger him and shock him at the same time, so that is what he did.

Ian turned and walked back to the window, looking down into the garden to see Caitlin out there wearing only his tunic. She was sitting on the wooden bench, crying. He wanted more than anything to call out to her, and then to drag her back up to his room and sleep with his arms around her to protect her. It had felt so right to be holding her. He truly did care for her and wanted her as his wife.

But not if she was going to die because of it.

He closed the shutter and turned back, making his way to his bed. He collapsed upon it, burying his face in the pillow. Her scent clung to the bedsheets, filling his senses, about driving him out of his mind. He barely knew the lass, but in the short time they’d been together, he’d grown to like her . . . to care for her . . . perhaps even love her if that was even possible for a man like him. He wouldn’t tell her the rest of the curse, because he didn’t want her feeling sorry for him. She’d made it quite clear she didn’t want him, even if he now wanted her more than life itself.

The best way to protect the lass and to keep her from dying would be to keep his mouth shut and to send her back to the MacKeefes where she belonged. Caitlin was a good woman, and he now regretted tricking her in the first place. He’d only been thinking about himself. But now . . . now, he didn’t care what happened to him. All that mattered was that Caitlin was safe, and that her life was spared. She’d leave in the morning, and it would be the last time he would ever see her.

He prayed that she would never find out that when he turned twenty-five on All Hallows’ Eve and was still single, the curse would take his life. When that happened, it would also mark the end of the MacBain bloodline forever.