by Connie Mason
“At what cost?” Graeme charged. “You suffered, did you not? I felt your body stiffen, heard you cry out and knew that what you were doing hurt you in some way. How long can you continue to summon powerful forces without damaging your health?”
Blair lowered her gaze. “I canna think beyond the present. What will be will be.”
“Nay!” Graeme bellowed. “I willna accept that. If I am to protect you, you must promise to confine your healing to dispensing herbs and mixing salves. No more ‘miraculous’ cures.”
“I canna do that, Graeme. As long as I have powers, I will continue to use them.” She peered up at him through lowered lids. “The day I stop healing people is the day you place me in my grave.”
Graeme shuddered, his expression grim. “The stillroom is destroyed and it willna be rebuilt. Think you I want your death?”
The determined glint in Blair’s eyes softened. “Nay, I never thought such a thing. But you canna change me, Graeme. Father tried and failed.”
“Why can you not love me? ’Twould save us both a lot of anguish.”
“You want me to lose my powers. That has ever been your goal where I am concerned. You know you dinna love me and never will.”
“I canna love you, not if I wish to protect you.”
Blair said naught, her expression sad as she blinked back tears.
Graeme groaned as he felt one of the walls protecting his heart crack. Hurting Blair was the last thing he wanted to do, but she didn’t seem to realize the danger she faced. Someone had to keep a level head, and it appeared he was the only one who cared enough to keep Blair safe.
He sat down beside her and raised her chin. “Blair, look at me. Do you want to live, lass?”
“Aye.”
“Do you want children?”
Her eyes lit up. “Aye, if God wills.”
“Then you must do as I say. Mix your herbal remedies, but dinna ever do what you did for Stuart and me again.”
She looked so forlorn, so utterly defeated, that Graeme could not help himself. Lowering his head, he kissed her sweet lips, never intending for his conciliatory gesture to go any farther. But the moment their mouths touched, an aching need welled up inside him. The possibility of losing Blair horrified him. He could not bear the thought of life without Blair. His fingers curled around her narrow shoulders as he deepened the kiss, his tongue thrusting deep to taste her sweet essence.
He felt himself grow thick and harden and would have taken her then and there had he not felt her go limp against him. It was not her surrender he sensed, but her weariness. Only a beast would want to couple with a woman who had just escaped death and was still reeling from exhaustion. Furthermore, it was obvious that healing his burns had taken a great deal out of her.
Reluctantly he released her and broke off the kiss. “I’d best find my own bed. ’Tis late and there’s much to be done tomorrow. I willna rest until I find the fire-starter in our midst. You can be verra sure he or she will be severely punished. Stay in bed until your legs are healed and Alyce says ’tis safe for you to move around.”
He walked to the door, stopped abruptly and turned, raising his hands and flexing his fingers. “ ’Tis truly a miracle. Thank you. And thank you for saving Stuart.”
Then he opened the door and strode through, leaving Blair with mixed emotions. He had demanded that she stop healing, then thanked her for helping him and Stuart. There was no understanding the man.
Graeme said he had known that she needed him. How could he know if there wasn’t a strong connection between them? Was God playing tricks on her? Twice now Graeme had saved her from dire circumstances, and both times he claimed he had answered her summons. Did Graeme love her?
Blair’s weary mind went blank as her spent body relaxed into sleep. God willing, no dreams would torment her this night.
To Graeme’s dismay, he found no clues to the firestarter’s identity after he concluded his investigation. No strangers had been noted in or around the keep that day. There were no secret passages, and the postern gate had been sealed long ago. The conclusion Graeme reached was not comforting. Someone inside the keep had set the fire. Who would benefit from Blair’s death? Who feared her enough to kill her?
Graeme didn’t want to believe that one of his kinsmen would incinerate an innocent woman. He would not allow Blair to suffer. Nay, he would not! He would prevent her from using her magic powers no matter what it took.
He would make her love him, even if he couldn’t return her love.
Bending, he continued to sift through the ashes, unaware that Glenda was headed in his direction.
“What are ye looking for?” Glenda asked.
Graeme glanced up at Glenda. “What are you doing here?”
“I was in the kitchen garden gathering vegetables when I saw ye poking around in the ashes. Did ye find what ye’re looking for?”
“Nay. I hoped to find a clue to the identity of the man or woman who set the fire.”
Glenda’s eyes widened. “Ye think someone deliberately set the fire?”
“Aye, I do. Someone who wished Blair harm.”
“Bah! I am more apt to believe that a spark from the hearth ignited some of those dry weeds yer wife enjoys collecting. Or mayhap a candle toppled over.”
“I would like to believe that, Glenda, but I think there is a more sinister explanation. I shall keep searching until I find answers that make sense.”
Glenda’s gaze descended to Graeme’s hands. Her eyes widened, and she sucked in a startled breath. “Yer hands! How did they heal so quickly? I helped Maeve bandage them and saw the blisters.”
Graeme hid his hands in the folds of his plaid. Explaining his miraculous healing was not going to be easy. “The burns were not as bad as we thought.”
Glenda grasped his hand and peered closely at it. “Yer palm isna even red. What did Blair do, Graeme? Did she use witchcraft to heal ye?”
Graeme pulled his hand away. “Dinna you have something to do?”
“Ah, well, have it yer way. Just remember, I am here should you have need of me.” She turned and ambled off, flicking her skirts to reveal a shapely ankle and calf.
When Graeme returned to the hall for the noon meal, Blair was nowhere to be seen.
“Blair is still too weak to leave her bed,” Alyce explained as she approached Graeme with a basin of water, soap and towel.
“Are the burns on her legs healing?” Graeme asked as he dashed his hands into the water and worked up a lather.
“She wasna burned nearly as bad as ye were.”
Graeme washed and dried his hands and face and returned the towel to Alyce. “Why does she not heal herself?” he asked curiously.
“Her power doesna work that way. She receives visions about future happenings and can heal others, but she canna heal herself.”
“How do you know this?”
“I was there when Blair was born. I watched over her as her powers grew and strengthened. Neither Blair’s mother nor grandmother was a Faery Woman, but she recognized her powers at an early age and was guided by the spirits.”
Graeme shook his head. “I dinna understand. The dark ages are long gone. How can she be a witch?”
Alyce clucked her tongue. “For shame, laird. Blair could have used her powers for evil, but she chose to follow the path of light and goodness. She isna a witch; she is a healer.”
Graeme studied his unblemished hands. “Aye, a healer, but what she does extends far beyond the bounds of healing. If she continues to use magic, ’twill be difficult to protect her from those who wish her harm.”
Alyce shrugged, but her eyes held a wealth of sadness. “Blair’s father had the same fears, but Blair could no more stop helping people than she could stop breathing.”
Graeme ate his food without tasting it. When Stuart joined him, he welcomed his uncle with a smile.
“Ye seem lost in thought, Nephew,” Stuart said.
Graeme’s grin widened. “ ’Tis good to see y
ou up and about, Uncle. Dinna tire yourself. Take your time recuperating.”
“Och, a mon can only stay in bed so long.”
“Sit down, then, and tell me about the attack. Aiden told me as much as he knew, but I still have questions. Do you have any idea who attacked you?”
“Never saw them before,” Stuart groused. “They came out of nowhere and tried to carry Blair off. I dinna remember much after that.” He shook his head. “ ’Tis most perplexing. Clearly, someone wants yer wife dead.”
“Aye, I am aware of that. I just dinna know who or why.”
“Do ye not, lad?” His gaze settled on Graeme’s hands. “Everyone knows Blair used magic to heal my wound and cure yer burns. I should be a dead mon, but I am verra much alive. Not that I amna grateful. But Blair’s healing powers have raised questions and doubts. The king has imposed harsh penalties on those who practice witchcraft. I wouldna want anything bad to happen to yer wee lass. I worried about yer marriage at first but have since changed my mind. The lass isna capable of evil.”
“Naught will happen to Blair as long as I live and breathe,” Graeme vowed. “I wish all our kinsmen felt as you do about her, Uncle. Yet someone feared her enough to set fire to the stillroom with her in it.”
“Ye think the fire was deliberately set?”
“Aye, I do, though I canna prove it.”
Graeme finished his meal and pushed his plate away. He was rising from the table when Heath came rushing into the hall.
“Visitors are at the gate. They request entrance.”
“Who are they?”
“Niall MacArthur, accompanied by a dozen men at arms. He heard about the fire and wants to see his sister. The priest is with him.”
“Word travels fast,” Graeme mused. He was curious, however, to hear what Niall had to say. “Let them in.”
A short time later, MacArthur and his men entered the hall. Graeme ordered ale for everyone and invited Niall and Father Lachlan to join him at the high table.
“What brings you to Stonehaven?” Graeme asked. “Were you not warned to stay away?”
Niall made a careless gesture toward the priest. “I brought the priest with me to prove I plan no mischief. I am concerned about my sister. I was told there was trouble involving Blair at Stonehaven. I would like to view the body.”
Graeme shuddered. “What makes you think Blair is dead?”
“ ’Tis of no importance. I know you have no priest at Stonehaven, so I brought Father Lachlan to say words over my sister’s body.”
“Is it true?” Father Lachlan asked. “Och, the poor blessed lass. Life isna fair.”
“Blessed!” Niall blasted. “The girl was possessed by the devil. I would like to take her body home to bury in the family plot. ’Tis what our father would have wanted.”
“Niall, what are you doing here?”
All three men looked up at the sound of Blair’s voice. One of them grinned, one crossed himself, and the other cursed beneath his breath. Graeme rose and pulled out a chair for Blair. She flashed him a smile and allowed him to seat her.
“Thank God ye’re alive,” the priest offered in humble thanksgiving. “I feared the rumors were true.”
“As you can see, Father, I am well,” Blair said. She glared at her brother. “Were you hoping to pay your final respects?”
“I heard ye died in a terrible fire.”
“You heard wrong. There was a fire, but I survived.”
“I am glad,” Niall said sourly. He rose. “I must leave. I am needed at Gairloch.”
“Mayhap I will stay on a few days,” Father Lachlan ventured, “if Laird Graeme has no objections.”
“You’re welcome to stay at Stonehaven as long as you wish,” Graeme offered. “It has been a long time since my kinsmen have attended Mass.” A flash of pain darkened his eyes. “Stonehaven’s priest perished in France.”
Niall prepared to leave, but Graeme stopped him. “Nay, dinna leave yet. There is something I have been meaning to speak to you about.”
Blair rose. “Come with me, Father. You can tell me all about what has happened at Gairloch during my absence.” They left the hall together.
“What is it you wish to discuss?” Niall asked Graeme with a marked lack of interest. “I shouldna tarry.”
“The terms of Blair’s nuptial agreement havena been met,” Graeme said.
“I took no part in the arrangements,” Niall argued. “Blair was supposed to wed the Mackay. Arrangements for the disposal of Blair’s dowry were made with him.”
“You acted without authority,” Graeme charged. “Douglas MacArthur was alive when he asked me to wed Blair. His arrangements preceded yours.”
“My father was sick and old and not in his right mind. I acted in his stead.”
“There are those who will swear he was lucid up to the moment of his death. My marriage to Blair was legal, but I have yet to receive income from her lands on the Isle of Skye.”
Niall shot to his feet. “Those lands and their income should be mine. Had Blair wed MacKay, he would have let me keep her dowry.”
Graeme stood, towering over Niall by half a head. “But Blair didna wed MacKay, she wed me.”
“Ye will never have her dowry,” Niall snarled.
“I will petition the courts,” Graeme threatened. “You are not above the law.”
“Blair’s dowry reverts back to me should Blair die without issue.” He sent Graeme a look of pure malice. “A witch’s life is precarious at best. I wouldna count on Blair living long enough to bear a child, even if ye are brave enough to dip yer rod in her witch’s cauldron.”
“Are you threatening my wife?” Graeme roared.
“I didna say that. I know there’s been trouble involving Blair at Stonehaven, even if ye dinna want to admit it. I am no fool. The odor of burning wood still lingers in the air. What happened? Does one of yer kinsmen want her dead?”
“ ’Twas an accident,” Graeme replied. “As you can see, all is well at Stonehaven.”
“Then I willna bother ye any longer with my concern for my sister.” Niall gestured to his men, and they rose as one to follow him out the door.
“You havena heard the last of this,” Graeme promised. “I will ready my petition to present to the courts. I am sure Douglas didna want you to claim any part of Blair’s dowry. The land is hers. One of our children will inherit it.”
Niall stormed off in a huff. Graeme watched him leave, jarringly aware that Niall was hoping for an early death for Blair. Did he want her dowry badly enough to kill her for it?
“How are things at Gairloch?” Blair asked as she and Father Lachlan seated themselves before the hearth in the solar.
“Naught is the same since yer father died,” Lachlan lamented. “Niall isna loved by his kinsmen. ’Tis true he has the king’s ear, but he doesna use his position for the good of our clan. He thinks only of himself and the power the king’s friendship will bring him. He will use the king as he uses everyone else.”
Blair sighed. “Do our people suffer because of his greed?”
“Not yet. The MacArthur clan isna poor, but that could change in time. Our kinsmen do suffer, however, for lack of yer healing skills. The Campbells are fortunate to have ye.”
Blair gave a bitter laugh. “I wish they felt as you do.”
Lachlan stared at her, his brows raised in question. “What is it, lass? Was Niall right? Are ye in trouble? Does Campbell nae treat ye well?”
“ ’Tis not Graeme,” Blair confided. “Attempts have been made upon my life on two occasions.”
“Holy Mother! What happened, lass?”
“Alyce, Graeme’s uncle and I were attacked while gathering herbs in the forest. Stuart was gravely wounded, but I used my powers to stop the bleeding, and he is making a full recovery. A few days later, the stillroom was set afire and I nearly perished in the blaze. Had Graeme not arrived when he did, I would not be here talking to you.”
“Do ye know who is behind those fo
ul deeds?”
“Nay. All five of our attackers were found dead. As for the fire, I suspect Graeme has found naught to incriminate anyone.”
“Surely God is protecting ye, lass,” Lachlan said. “Ye still have yer healing powers, then?”
“Aye.”
Lachlan smiled. “Then Graeme Campbell returns yer love. The Prophecy has been fulfilled. I am pleased.”
Blair frowned. “What makes you think I love Graeme? Mayhap I still retain my powers because I willna allow myself to love him. Graeme loves another; there is no love between us.”
“I know ye, lass. Yer eyes tell me what ye canna admit. Ye love the man ye married. If yer powers still exist, it’s because Graeme returns yer love.”
Blair wished it were true, but nothing Graeme had said suggested that he loved her. She had known Graeme long before she made his physical acquaintance. He was her dream lover. In life, he had become her salvation, her protector. But Graeme had known her such a short time, he couldn’t possibly love her. It made more sense to believe she had been successful in withholding her own heart.
Chapter Eleven
Blair’s legs were healing remarkably well. Only a dull redness and slight stinging remained. During the following days she was glad of Father Lachlan’s company, for Graeme’s obsession with finding the fire-starter kept him away from the keep for long periods of time. For some reason he had begun to sleep in his own bed, and Blair wondered if he feared her powers.
After a week of saying Masses and hearing confessions, Father Lachlan announced his intention to return to Gairloch. His reason for leaving was his fear that Niall might be behind the attacks on Blair’s life; he wanted to keep an eye on him. Blair bade him a teary good-bye and waved him off.
The night that Lachlan departed, Graeme entered Blair’s bedchamber and watched absently as she brushed her hair. He had a defeated look about him that Blair had never seen before.
“What is wrong?” she asked, giving him her full attention. Obviously, something was on his mind, and she waited patiently for him to tell her what was bothering him.
