Page 58 of Fire in his Highland Heart

It suddenly dawned on Blake. Cataline had left him nearly four years ago, changed her name to Marianne, and married Malcolm. A few months ago, she had accused Arguen of witchcraft after she lost her babe early. Now, it seemed she was hell-bent on revenge.

“Arguen didnae kill the bairn,” Blake said, his voice softer in an instant. “Cataline’s had this trouble ‘afore Mirellain was born.”

“Arguen is accused o’ witchcraft at Bruckstone. The guards have been searching for her all this time. Only reason they havenae found her is Malcolm Morgan refuses tae put a bounty on her countrywide.”

She hated how the two of them were talking like she wasn’t still in the room, but she couldn’t find the words to speak up and defend herself. What in God’s name was all this? Marianne was Cataline, or vice versa? Blake’s wife had never really died? It was all too much to handle. Arguen was glad she was sitting, for she felt dizzy. Had she been standing, she surely would have fainted.

She had been right about all this, about Blake being too good to be true. He’d lied to her this entire time. He and James and probably other people in the castle. Now she wondered if anything was real. Their voices faded away. Even though James and Blake were still talking, their voices sounded muffled, as if Arguen were listening from underwater.

Soon, James was gone. She knew that by the closing of the door, and the fact that Blake knelt before her, taking both her hands.

“Arguen, are ye well? Ye look pale as a ghost.”

Tears welled up in her eyes. “I... I dinnae ken who ye are now,” she said, her voice shaking.

Blake shook his head. “Nay, of course ye do. I’m Blake Mawr, laird of Ernmore Castle, father of Mirellain, and lover tae ye and ye only.”

Arguen’s voice cracked when she spoke. “But Marianne? Or Cataline, should I say?”

Blake took a deep sigh of his own. “Cataline...was my wife. Mirellain’s mother. Not long after Mirellain was born, Cataline left. I dinnae ken why; she didnae explain it. All she did was leave a letter sayin’ she’d never return and that she’d never loved me. I...” now it seemed tears were welling up in his eyes. “I was furious. Embarrassed, even. I told everyone she died at the hands of brigands as she picked heather wi’ her maids. The maids went wi’ her as well, I reckon. We had a funeral an’ everythin.”

Arguen blinked back angry tears. “Ye lied tae me. Ye told me she was dead!”

Blake gulped. “I ken, an’ I’m sorry. I never wanted tae hurt ye.”

She knew this was pathetic and selfish of her, but she couldn’t help it. She felt so utterly betrayed in that moment. “Do ye even love me?”

Blake looked so crestfallen at her blunt question. “I do, deeply. Please Arguen, ye must understand.”

Arguen sniffled. “I ken Marianne, or Cataline, I s’pose, was a cruel woman an’ I’m sorry for what she did tae ye. But from here on out, I want the truth, and nothin’ but truth from ye. I promise tae do the same.”

“Anything, my love. Anything for ye,” Blake pledged, dropping his head to her hands and kissing them.

Arguen still didn’t feel right. Hearing all this news at once felt like having a sack of stones dropped on her. She’d been convinced Blake was going to ask her to marry him. Now, all those hopes were dashed. She was doomed to be like that old healer she met in the woods on her journey to Ernmore, cast out by society, living alone in her cottage, providing lotions and potions to those who sought after them. Of course it had been too good to be true.

Her stomach gurgled, and she felt bile rise in her throat. She swallowed to keep it down, however unpleasant it was. “I should go,” she said quietly, rising on shaky legs.

“Arguen, please. I didnae mean tae hurt ye. I love ye. Please, accept my apologies. Please,” he begged, holding her hand.

Arguen sniffled again. “I need some time alone, aye? Need tae clear my head. I need tae go back tae my cottage.”

Blake looked after her worriedly. “Arguen, ‘tis the dead of night in a thunderstorm. Ye might not make it back in one piece,” he protested.

She shook her head. “I have tae go. I cannae be here right now. I’ll take a lantern; I’ll go meself. Tell Mirellain I love her,” she implored.

With that, she let go of Blake’s hand, and went off into the night, leaving him standing there bewildered. He didn’t know what to do with himself, so he sank into a chair by the fire and watched the flames dance again, until the fire died, and he fell asleep.

Chapter Twenty

By some miracle, Arguen made it back to her cottage in one piece. The rain and wind slowed her down, and she was soaked to the bone when she arrived, but she at least made it. She was in her own territory, where she was free to cry, scream, gnash her teeth, and generally act insane if she wished. Right now, however, she only felt numb. She lit and stoked a fire in the kitchen hearth, then peeled off her garments one by one, hanging them on the back of the settee so they could dry in front of the fire, until she was completely nude. The nausea from earlier had not left, and she felt that bile rise up in her throat again. This time, she did not quell it. Instead, she let it out into one of the pots nearby. Thankfully, there was nothing in it. She’d have to clean it out later, of course, but that did not stop her from retching again and again until there was nothing left. When she was done, she felt a little better, and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

She took a small sip of water from the bowl that she kept on the worktable, swished it in her mouth, then opened the door for a second to spit it out. Then she sat in one of the chairs by the fire, still nude, to warm and dry herself.

Of course he was too good to be true, a voice said in her mind. Did you really think you deserved someone like him?

She wanted to scream at the voice to stop pestering her, but she didn’t know whose it was. It sounded vaguely like Marianne’s, or Cataline’s, now, she supposed, but icier. Besides, she was too numb to cry or scream.

When she’d had enough of the fire, she rose, and dug through the trunk that Mrs. Kinney had provided. There was a clean shift in there, and she pulled that over her head. Then she stoked the fire one last time, and climbed up the ladder to the bed in her loft. Soon she fell asleep and had a vivid dream, such as she had not had in months.