Page 68 of Fire in his Highland Heart

Malcolm heaved a sigh and walked back behind his desk, slumping into his chair again. “I dinnae ken about any o’ ye, but I could use a pint. Or somethin’ stronger.”

James and Blake agreed and looked to Arguen for her opinion. All she could do was vomit in the hearth.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Malcolm had quickly made it known the next day that Arguen Larimore was back, that she was no witch, and that if anyone tried anything, they would be met with swift justice. Arguen was not entirely comfortable with it all; she would have preferred to stay anonymous, but in order to spare her life from those loyal to Cataline (whom they knew as Marianne), something had to be said.

That terrible gloomy atmosphere that had permeated all aspects of the castle was slowly lifting, and Arguen could see its residents coming back to life again. In being locked in the dungeon, and then away for a number of months, she had not realized that the uncertain feelings had extended to the villagers as well as the castle.

She missed her cottage back in Blake’s territory. It was so lovely to have her own space with a garden all to herself. Now, she’d set up in the drawing room that used to be her and her mother’s room. It was utterly unrecognizable since Cataline had gotten her hands on it. Every trace of her mother had been ripped out and replaced with the latest furniture in the newest, most fashionable colors. It pained Arguen to be in there, so she spent much of the day helping in the kitchen or outside, gathering herbs.

All day, the sea seemed to call to her. There were not many useful plants on the cliffside, but she was very happy to see the grey-blue expanse stretching all the way to the horizon and hear the crash of the waves on the rocks below. She closed her eyes and held her shawl tighter around her, inhaling the faint scent of sea salt. Something about the moon, stars, and sea were calming to her. She’d often thought her mother was looking down on her from a star, or likened her laugh to the gentle ripple of the waves in a tide pool. Of course, that was all silly. And sharing such thoughts would reinforce the idea that she was a witch, so she kept it to herself, not even telling Douglas.

Even with the sun high in the sky, it was rather chilly outside. A perfect Scotland October, but she knew she would be more comfortable inside. As she walked back to Bruckstone Castle through the meadow, one of the plants caught her eye. This was where she had picked the yarrow earlier that year, then crushed it up and gave it to Cataline. When she’d met Connie that day in the woods, there was always that doubt in her mind—maybe she had not been careful enough. Maybe it really was hemlock, not yarrow. Upon closer inspection, Arguen knelt to the ground, beaming with joy. There were no thick stems, slightly purple in color. No—she had been right all along. There was no need to doubt herself as a healer. She felt less burdened as a wave of relief crashed over her body and soul.

There was a rustling in the grass behind her, and she turned to see Douglas with a rueful smile on his face. “Och, Douglas, I’ve missed ye,” she said, rising and throwing herself at him for a hug.

“I missed ye too,” he said, returning the hug. “I wanted tae write tae ye, but didnae want tae risk it. An’ I dinnae ken any code tae cover a message, so... I just had tae have faith that one day ye’d return.”

“Ye were right tae send me tae Ernmore. Blake is...” her voice trailed off and she felt a blush bloom in her cheeks.

Douglas’s rueful smile turned into a mischievous one. “He’s what, now?”

“I like him very much,” she said wistfully. “An’ I ken he feels the same.”

“Mayhap I should start callin’ meself the great matchmaker,” he teased.

“Good men attract good people. Ye have excellent taste in friends, Douglas.”

“I’m just glad yer safe now. Erm... Mr. Murray does want tae see ye in the study. He wants tae hear about that night in yer own words.”

“Am I tae be arrested again?” Arguen asked, suddenly alarmed. If the magistrate wanted to see her and hear her story, did that not mean he was preparing for a trial?

“Nay. Mr. Murray is a man of reason. I’m sure he just wants tae tie up loose ends.”

“A’right then,” Arguen said through a sigh. “One more fear tae face.”

“Aye, but ye won’t be alone. Malcolm an’ Blake an’ I are here.”

She nodded, and knew that her fate was in good hands if these three men were with her. After her testimony, it would all be over.

* * *

Blake had repurposed the dungeons at Ernmore Castle for a reason. They were dark, cold, often poorly ventilated, and no one liked being in them. As one of the guards led him down the winding stone staircase, his heart sank to think that his angel, Arguen, had been trapped in here for so long. Cataline was being held here now until Malcolm could get word to King James about the situation. He felt nothing at that. In his eyes, Cataline deserved it. She would likely be tried for fraudulent character, slander, and bigamy: all of which had severe consequences indeed.

“Come to pay a visit to your lovely old wife?” Cataline crooned from behind her bars. She was looking a bit worse for wear. Her cap had fallen loose long ago, leaving her blonde curls exposed, which now more resembled a blonde rat’s nest. She had evidently been crying, for her green eyes were bright and glassy and puffy underneath. There was even blood on her hands, as if she’d scratched at the stone to try and get out. She looked quite like a wild animal caught in a trap, and Blake found it suited her.

“Ye’re not my wife. Ye forsook those privileges when ye left.”

She huffed and crossed her arms. “’Twasn’t my fault you were insufferable.”

Blake rolled his eyes. “I treated ye well. I made that garden for ye, I bought ye things, I let ye do whatever ye wanted whenever ye wanted. Ye had free will over at Ernmore.”

Cataline scoffed. “I never wanted you. My father made me marry you. You knew that from the beginning.”

“Aye, but I tried my best tae make ye feel welcome an’ at home. Ye didnae have tae show such spite.”

She gave a haughty, shrill laugh. “And what would you have done if you’d been in my situation? If you had been married to someone you had never met and had no feelings for?”