Page 26

The Calbraith and Monroe alliance would be but a footnote in history, a blip where the fighting ceased, and it would be clear to anyone who studied history that the two clans were made to be enemies and there was nothing they could do to prevent wars between each other.

It was a sad, sorrowful thought to think that Niall wasn’t only condemning her to these feelings, but that he was condemning future generations to this same fate. Moira spared a thought for the children she had assumed she was going to have.

They were going to be the symbol of a new future for the historic enemies, but now they would never be born. She would never feel Niall’s touch again. She would never descend into his arms and sink into his sweet warmth. She would never…

Moira drew her knees into her body and bowed her head. Her shoulders shook with a shudder, and she resigned herself to her fate.

But then something flourished inside her, some instinct that had been buried deep inside her heart. She was not going to be the kind of person who stood by and did nothing. She was going to be brave, like her father. He was the example by which she and Marcas tried to live their lives, and there was nothing to say that she could not be as brave as him just because she was a woman.

She could not be a warrior, but her father had always taught them that the ability to wield a sword did not mean you were the strongest warrior. It was all about wits, which was the real way to win a battle, he used to say, to be able to see things the enemy couldn’t see, and to do things they thought you would never be capable of.

That’s what Moira had to do now. She knew that Niall would expect her to stay in her chambers and either apologize to him or meekly sneak away, and in so doing confirm her guilt. He was the laird, and it was her place to throw herself upon her pride and beg for forgiveness, or accept that he was right.

But Moira could do neither of those things. There was too much at stake for this. If she didn’t act, then Niall was liable to believe his paranoid delusions and declare war on the Monroe clan, which she was certain he would do if either Jamie or Isobel died by the malevolent hand of this sickness.

Moira wasn’t ready to give up on peace yet. While she remained Lady Calbraith and had access to the lands, she was going to make use of them and try to unravel this mystery. But first, she wanted to pay a visit to Isobel and Jamie, as she wanted them to know that she cared, even if Niall believed otherwise.

Moira pulled on a thick dress to protect her from the cold and wrapped a shawl around her shoulders. Her face was pale and her eyes were haunted by fatigue. As she passed various servants, she noticed how they glanced at her, and she wondered how many of them had heard the fiery argument between laird and lady the previous night. However, each of them were discreet enough to not say anything, and Moira was grateful for this.

As daylight poured in through the windows, Moira started to feel foolish about believing in spirits and dark phantoms that had cursed the clan. They were things from children’s stories, and she thought that perhaps Niall was right to dismiss them as the cause of this sickness. In the night, though, with the darkness swirling around her, spirits seemed the most natural thing to happen.

However, as she thought about it rationally, she realized that all the bad things that had happened in her life had been the result of men rather than spirits, and that she knew how to deal with people. Spirits on the other hand, were as elusive as the wind, and Moira hoped that mortals were responsible.

She made her way to Jamie’s room and half expected Niall to be there, but Jamie was alone, save for a rosy-cheeked maid who smiled at Moira as she entered. The maid fussed about quickly and then took a tray of food away from Jamie.

Surprisingly Jamie hadn’t eaten everything that was on the tray, so Moira plucked a few pieces of fruit and whetted her appetite, which had returned after the sorrow had consumed everything inside her. Jamie was pale, looking like a shadow of himself. He had propped himself up on the bed, and offered a weak smile.

“How are ye daeing, Moira?” he asked.

“A wee bit better than ye, it seems,” Moira said, moving closer to him. She took his hand. “I’m sae glad tae see ye with yer eyes open again. Everyone was sae worried.”

“I was tae. It’s been nice, hearing how everyone was sad for me.”

“We all care about ye, especially yer brother and sister. As soon as Isobel heard that something was wrong with ye, she rushed tae yer side and wouldnae leave—well, until she had tae.” Moira’s face fell as she thought of how Isobel was still a victim of the sickness, but at least if Jamie had survived, then there was hope for others.

Jamie smiled again. “It is touching,” he said. “And thank ye for coming as well.”

“Ye are welcome. We are family now,” Moira said weakly, although she didn’t know how much longer that would hold true. “Haes Niall spoken tae ye about what he thinks haes caused this?” Moira ventured. Given how Jamie had reacted positively to her appearance, she didn’t think that Niall had shared his suspicions with the sick man, but Moira still wanted to check.

Jamie shook his head. “We didnae hae a good chance tae speak. My mind haes nae been as sharp as it once was.” He chuckled a little; it was good to hear him laugh.

“Aye, well, there are a few theories going around. I was speaking tae a healer yesterday and he thinks that it’s because everyone drank from the same well. Of course, Grizel thinks it’s the work of spirits…”

“She would,” Jamie laughed again, although it turned into a violent cough and his entire body shook. Moira reached out to steady him, afraid that something was wrong, but after a few moments, Jamie settled back into a comfortable position. “Then again, she may well be right. After all these years…aye…old Grizel always knew more than she was telling.”

Moira’s ears pricked up at this. “What dae ye mean?”

Jamie’s eyes widened as he lay his hands in his lap and wrung them together. “I wasnae sure how tae tell this tae Niall. I’m sure he’ll think I’m lying.”

“Aye, well, that seems tae be the way he reacts tae everything,” Moira said bluntly. Jamie tilted his head and gave her an inquiring look, but Moira didn’t particularly want to speak about her marital problems with Jamie, so she shook her head and asked him to continue.

“Well…it’s just that I was out on patrol the other night by the loch.” Moira nodded as he spoke. The loch was the clan’s other main source of water, other than the well. “And I saw the strangest thing: a huge black horse on the other side. It was bigger than anything I hae ever seen before and it reminded me of something that Grizel used tae tell us about in her stories, although I cannae remember now…” He scowled and clamped his eyes shut, pinching the sides of his forehead. “I’m sorry Moira, I get these blinding headaches, and it makes it impossible tae think.”

“Dinnae worry, Jamie. I dinnae want ye tae hurt yerself. Is there anything else ye can tell me?”

Jamie shook his head. “In truth, I’m probably just making this up. It was foggy, that much I remember for sure. Will ye dae me a favor and keep this from Niall? I dinnae want him tae think I hae lost my mind,” he said with a chuckle, but Moira knew that he wasn’t joking.

“It’ll be our wee secret.” She patted him on the chest and smiled. Jamie’s head lolled back onto the pillow. It was incongruous to see such a powerful warrior in this position, having been brought crashing down to Earth not by a mighty blow of some enemy, but by something invisible. His eyes closed and he breathed heavily, his words turning into a tapestry woven by his dreams.