Love Beyond Reach: Book 8 of Morna’s Legacy Series

by Bethany Claire

“I was away delivering messages for the laird. I know little of what happened. Only that I returned to find our home destroyed. When I made my way to the village, I was told that the laird found out about his wife’s friendship with Grier and attempted to banish her for witchcraft. When she refused to leave, he set our home aflame. Rather than abandon her home, she allowed herself to burn inside.”

  It was this that made my grief easier to bear. While I missed her, I couldn’t bring myself to forgive her for leaving me. Her pride sentenced me to a life out of time.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Morna’s small voice pulled me from my thoughts.

  “Aye. ’Twas the darkest night of my life. In my rage, I left Creedrich territory and traveled aimlessly for months seeking work and keeping an open ear for another with magic who might help me. A fortnight ago, I crossed paths with yer brother’s messenger. When I learned he sought Grier, I knew I needed to come to Conall territory. I hoped that if ye all knew Grier, ye might know of a way to help me. It seems I was right. Will ye help me, Morna?”

  Slowly, Morna walked across the room, never glancing in my direction as she spoke.

  “I must think, Jerry. I’ll see ye this evening.”

  Without another word, the only other person I’d ever told my tale to walked away. Her quick retreat was enough proof of her disbelief.

  She thought me mad.

  Dinner with her father was now more important than ever. I needed Morna’s help even if it took me years to convince her that my story was true. Work at the castle would keep me close to her.

  I would stop at nothing to win the trust of Morna’s bastardly father.

  Chapter 11

  Morna

  * * *

  I made the walk back to the castle in half the time it normally took. I was still shaking by the time I entered through the castle’s main doors. While shaving the second half of Jerry’s face, he was turned away from me. The moment he stood and faced me, I knew why I found his eyes so familiar. Every memory of my last day with Grier returned at once.

  Jerry was the man in the mirror—the man Grier intended to find for me.

  My emotions swung wildly from disbelief to fear to anger. Due to Father’s interruption that day, I assumed her spell hadn’t worked. Did Jerry’s sudden presence in my life mean it had? Could his story of being born in another time possibly be true?

  There were stories in Scotland—legends of people taken by fairies, only to be returned to a time very different from that which they left—but this was different. Could witches manipulate time, as well?

  So much of Jerry’s story made little sense. If he was indeed the man Grier intended to bring me, why did she allow him to live with her for a year after she found him? And if he truly did fall through time, it was Grier who caused him to do so. Why then, had she pretended to not know how to send him home? Furthermore, why had she led him to believe she was dead? Did she know that she could no longer pretend to be ignorant of the aid he so desperately needed and worried of his reaction once he found out she’d been lying to him?

  No, that couldn’t be it—Grier feared no one.

  The questions in my mind only seemed to build on themselves. In my distracted state, I didn’t hear my father’s voice until he called to me a second time.

  “Morna, dinna ye hear me? Come here, lass.”

  His voice caused any thought of Grier or Jerry to vanish. Any interaction with my father required my focused attention. I could never allow myself to fall behind in conversation with him. Whenever I did, it ended with me being pushed into something I didn’t want.

  Smiling as sweetly as I could manage, I apologized and made my way over to him.

  “I’m sorry. The past days at the inn have tired me. If ye’ll excuse me, I’d like to rest before dinner. Thank ye for allowing me to offer Mae aid.”

  My efforts to dismiss my father rarely worked, but it never stopped me from trying. I turned away as he called me back to him.

  “Ye may rest shortly. What I have to tell ye willna take long.”

  Father’s tone made me nervous—there was more patience in his voice than usual—a sure sign that he was after something. Moving to sit in the chair opposite him by the fire, I feigned concern. If Alasdair’s warning the day before was correct, I already suspected what our impending conversation was about.

  “What is it? Has something happened?”

  “No, I’ve good news. ’Tis time for ye to choose a husband.”

  I chose my next words carefully. If I wanted him to keep the promise he’d made my mother, I couldn’t anger him with my response.

  “’Tis time for me to choose? Surely, ye would be better suited to choose whom I should marry?”

  The words tasted like bile on my tongue.

  As I knew he would, Father said nothing of his promise. Instead, he wished to make me believe allowing me a choice in my future was a show of his generosity towards me.

  “Ye are to make yer own choice, though I shall invite suitors of my choice here. The first suitor is already here as my guest. He shall join us at dinner. If after meeting this man and spending time with him, ye canna see yerself wed to him, we will send for another.”

  He paused, and I could see by the way he looked away from me and into the fire that he wasn’t finished.

  “Morna, I trust ye know that what I am allowing ye is unusual. Most men wouldna allow it.”

  He wanted me to thank him. Doing so would cost me nothing. I could thank him and then send each and every suitor away. Eventually, perhaps he would grow tired and relinquish his quest to see me married.

  It wasn’t that I never wanted to marry, but like Alasdair, I wanted to understand the power within me before I relinquished my freedom to another.

  Putting on the mask I always wore in front of my father, I stood, smiled, and moved to kiss his cheek.

  “Thank ye, Father. Yer kindness means more to me than ye can possibly know.”

  Wiping my lips with the back of my hand, I went in search of the one person I knew could help me sort through all that Jerry had told me—Alasdair.

  * * *

  “Mary, just give me one wee taste. What harm will it do? I willna tell a soul ye allowed me to taste it early.”

  I could hear Alasdair the moment I reached the first step leading down to the castle’s kitchen. Mary’s banter with everyone was entertaining, but she and Alasdair shared a special bond of friendship that made it even more so.

  “Alasdair, if ye doona believe I shall stick ye with this poker if ye doona step away from the fire, I shall be happy to prove ye wrong. Elspeth willna be pleased if ye wind up with an arse that’s so sore ye canna walk for days.”

  “Mary!”

  I stepped into the room, but neither of them seemed to notice me.

  “Doona ‘Mary’ me. Yer own mouth is far more foul than my own. Ye think that ladies doona think the same foul words that ye men say every damned day. Well, we do. ’Tis only that I know ye too well to worry over what I say in front of ye.”

  “I know ye well, and I’ve never known ye to speak in such a way. Something is bothering ye.”

  I knew exactly what bothered her, but I said nothing as I waved when Alasdair glanced my way.

  Following Alasdair’s gaze, Mary ran over to hug me the moment she saw me.

  “Morna, I feel I havena seen ye in years. Where were ye? I know ye were not with Mae as yer father believes.”

  “I’ll tell ye later. Will ye allow me to speak with Alasdair alone for a moment?”

  Pulling away, she crossed her arms and glared at me.

  “Ye canna mean to send me from my own kitchen?”

  Apologetically, I reached forward to squeeze her arm.

  “Aye, I am. I’ll make it up to ye. ’Twill only take a few moments.”

  Something about my tone must have expressed my urgency, as she left the kitchen without another word.

  When we could no longer hear footsteps, Alasdair spoke.

/>   “I came here to wait for ye. I knew ye would come to the kitchen after returning from the inn. I’m afraid I have terrible news.”

  “Aye, I know. I’ve already spoken to Father. He told me the first suitor is already here. Who is he?”

  Alasdair’s nose crinkled upward in disgust, which only affirmed what I already suspected. My father’s opinion of me was so low he’d invited trolls into our home to woo me.

  “His name is Fulton Fyfe. His father is laird of a small territory. I believe Father only summoned him here because he wishes to control that territory once Fulton’s father passes. The man is weak. He would happily allow Father to run his territory. Ye willna care for him, but news of the suitor is not the terrible news I have for ye.”

  My already knotted stomach tightened further.

  “What is?”

  “I no longer have a place where ye can practice yer spells. The room I planned for ye is where Father placed the suitor. I hid the books in my own chambers until I think of another way.”

  Even unintentionally Father could destroy my hope. I had no time to worry over it now.

  “Alasdair, I must tell ye what I learned from Jerry.”

  Repeating every detail of my conversation, I told my brother everything. By the time I finished, Alasdair was pacing the room while rubbing his forehead.

  “By all the saints, Morna, what are we to make of it?”

  “I doona know. Why would Grier pretend that she couldna send him back? Why has she allowed him to believe her dead for so long?”

  Ignoring my questions, he asked one of his own.

  “Did ye tell him she’s not dead?”

  “Mayhap I should have, but I feared ’twould hurt him. He’s been through so much already.”

  Alasdair stopped his pacing. His voice was low and quiet when he spoke.

  “I told ye of the darkness I always sensed in Grier. I worry that the lass we knew is no longer the lass she is. There is a game in this that I canna understand. Whether it be loneliness or revenge, there is a design to all of it, and Grier is its creator. Ye must tell Jerry she lives. Yer memory is proof that he is at the center of all of it. He canna remain ignorant of what ye know.”

  “So, ye believe I must try to help him?”

  Nodding, Alasdair leaned close as if he were worried Grier was listening to us even now. Part of me wondered if she was.

  “Aye, ye must. I will find another place for ye to study and learn. If Grier lives, we will see her again. I will find her and see her home. We must learn the truth.”

  Shivering and exhausted, I readily accepted my brother’s open arms.

  “Only days ago, I feared I would go mad from boredom. Now, I fear there is too much chaos. Change is coming for me, and I doona know if I’m ready.”

  Holding me tight, Alasdair kissed the top of my head.

  “Lass, ye are ready. Ye always have been. Ye are far more ready than I. I feel that yer life—the life ye were meant to live—is just beginning. I will miss ye terribly when ye leave here.”

  Teasing him, I pulled away and jerked my head toward the stairs.

  “’Tis time for me to begin my life with Fulton, ye mean?”

  Shivering, my brother took my arm as we left the kitchen together.

  “Lass, if ye marry that fool, I shall never speak to ye again.”

  Laughing, we walked up the stairs, right into the path of my first suitor.

  Chapter 12

  Alasdair included nothing of Fulton’s appearance in his description. In my mind, I imagined that I would arrive at dinner to find a horrendously unattractive man twice my age. To my surprise, when I found my feet after running right into him, I looked up into the eyes of one of the most handsome men I’d ever seen in my life.

  As tall as my brother, Fulton Fyfe had dark eyes, thick lashes and brows, and a full head of dark hair that made me want to reach up and run my fingers through it.

  He looked as if he could command any room, but when he opened his mouth to speak, no words formed. He opened and closed his mouth three times before finally deciding to say nothing. Without a word, he turned and walked away.

  “I told ye. Strangest man I’ve ever seen. I doona believe he’s said more than five words since he arrived.”

  * * *

  Upon sitting down to dinner, Alasdair and I were determined in our resolve to make certain that Father took to Jerry well enough to give him work in Kip’s stables. I knew it would be difficult. By introducing Jerry to Father as if he were Alasdair’s friend, Father would assume that Jerry was already an equal in class. To then ask Father for work would only arouse suspicion. I hoped Alasdair had something planned.

  With Father at the table’s end, and Alasdair, Elspeth, and Eoin lining one side, I sat awkwardly between Jerry and Fulton.

  Mary prepared a banquet of food, and I found myself eating more than my stomach could possibly hold just to keep my hands and mouth busy throughout the awkwardness of our meal together. Elspeth busied herself with Eoin, Fulton said absolutely nothing, and Alasdair and I watched on with wide eyes as Jerry charmed our father as if he’d known him his entire life.

  It had been months, possibly even years, since I’d seen my father get on with someone so well. It unsettled me. My father usually liked despicable people. Did the fact that Jerry got along with him so splendidly signal something about Jerry’s character that I’d not seen during my limited interaction with him?

  Most people, even those with strong personalities, would shrink a few inches in my father’s presence. They would choose their words with care and never dared say anything that might upset him. Jerry didn’t seem concerned with this at all. If anything, he sat up taller than he had at any other time I’d seen him. Not only did he say whatever came to his mind, he even dared to disagree with my father twice before the main course.

  The more disagreeable and opinionated Jerry was, the more my father enjoyed him.

  “Alasdair, why have ye never brought Jerry here before? I’ve never known ye to have such intelligent friends.”

  Quicker than I would’ve been had I been the one asked, Alasdair took the opportunity to guide the conversation toward our desired outcome.

  “He stays verra busy, Father. Until recently, he served as Laird Creedrich’s most trusted messenger. He has only lived in this region for a fortnight.”

  Returning his attention to Jerry, Father looked surprised.

  “Why did ye leave?”

  As if they’d coordinated everything beforehand, Jerry picked up right where Alasdair left off.

  “I much prefer the landscape here. There are too many peat bogs near Creedrich’s land. I’ve a taste for the beautiful, and Conall territory is the loveliest in Scotland.”

  Picking the most beautiful area in Scotland was a lot like deciding which finger you’d like to lose—impossible. But the obvious stroke of his ego allowed Father to overlook the absurdity of Jerry’s explanation.

  “O’course ye do. Ye are a man of fine taste. How do ye mean to live?”

  “’Tis part of the reason I invited him here tonight, Father. As ye know, Kip is now in need of a new stable hand. I thought mayhap Jerry would be a fine choice.”

  “A stable hand? Jerry would go to waste with such work. If he was a trusted messenger to Creedrich, he can be a trusted messenger to me. He can stay in the castle’s cottage.”

  Choking on my food in surprise, I coughed as Jerry slyly reached to pat me on the back. He couldn’t have seemed any less shocked by my father’s offer. Perhaps Jerry possessed magic, as well. Father’s actions were so unusual that I was beginning to wonder if he were spelled. To suggest that a man he barely knew take on such a trusted position was strange enough. To then offer the same stranger lodging on castle grounds was unheard of. With the exception of those who worked directly in the castle, such as Mary, Father never concerned himself with where his workers made their home.

  Jerry continued to beat at my back while he spoke.

&nb
sp; “Ye are too generous. A stable job will suit me just fine. I’m sure ye already have a messenger.”

  “Aye, but he’s rubbish. I insist. I’ll not take no for an answer.”

  Quickly adjusting his tone to one of admonishment, Father addressed me just as Jerry ceased the inappropriate thumping on my back. “Morna, compose yerself. Have ye no manners?”

  As Mary brought in the last course, Father pounded one fist on the table in excitement.

  “Mary, ye’ve outdone yerself, lass. I hope ye’ve saved some of everything for yerself to enjoy later.”

  Fulton jumped at the noise, bumping the table so that his cup of ale sloshed out on the table. The expression on my father’s face made it clear that he’d forgotten Fulton was even there.

  “How can a man so tall disappear so completely? Why doona ye speak, man? Have ye said two words to my daughter all evening?”

  Suddenly feeling rather sorry for him, I tried to dismiss it.

  “’Tis fine, Father. Yer conversation with Jerry had us all captivated.”

  Waving a hand to silence me, Father raised his voice in anger.

  “I dinna ask ye. Speak and answer me. Have ye said a word since she sat down next to ye?”

  While Father couldn’t see it from so far away, I could see Fulton’s hands shake as he struggled to speak. His face was so red I thought I might cry for him.

  “I…I…no.”

  “After dinner, gather yer things and tell yer men that ye will return home come morning. There is no sense in ye being here if ye canna even speak to the lass ye wish to wed. Morna is not a quiet woman, she canna wed a mute.”

  Never in my life had two such completely conflicting emotions in regard to my father filled me at once. I was mortified that he didn’t seem to mind the pain his words caused Fulton, but I was also pleased to see that at least some part of my father did care about my future happiness.

  Unable to say a word, Fulton nodded and looked down at the table in total humiliation. Satisfied, Father resumed his conversation with Jerry.