I hesitated, then gave a single nod. “Yes.” Please. As much as I still felt angry with him, I needed his strength and comfort more.
Instead of resting his hands on my shoulders, Collin wrapped his arms around me, pulling me against him. He bent his head low, near to mine. “I should never have brought you back. I’m so sorry.”
The words were the same I’d heard in the carriage, and I wondered now if that moment had been more than a dream.
“Why did you, then?” Was it only because my grandfather had asked it of him?
He took several seconds to answer. “Because I wanted you back.” His arms tightened around me. “I waited so long— years spent dreaming of you. I needed you.”
“That isn’t what you said last night.” I’d caught him in a lie, and a hurtful one at that. He probably hadn’t realized I’d overheard his conversation with Ian. “You said you married me to pay the debt to my grandfather— and for my dowry, of course.”
“That’s what I need Ian to believe.” Collin turned me toward him, keeping his hands upon my arms. “If he— or any of the MacDonalds— believed our marriage was about anything more than financial gain, if they had any inkling of your potential to change the fate of our clans, if they knew how I care for you— ” Collin’s eyes, soulful and brimming with truth and concern, met mine. “If they knew any of that, we couldn’t have wed. Ian suspects even now. It’s why he wants to kill you— and me as well.”
I might have reeled backward if Collin hadn’t been holding me. Questions swirled inside my mind. I wanted to ask them, to demand answers, to know what it was he believed I could do for our families. But none of that seemed as pressing after his declaration. If that’s even what it was. He hadn’t said it outright, but had inserted an if they knew in front of words I wasn’t certain I would ever hear from him. Certainly I hadn’t expected to so soon. I care for you.
I love you, Katie.
My eyes searched his face. His lips hadn’t moved. It was only my imagination hearing such an endearment. The dark pools of brown in his expressive eyes, however, seemed to be speaking all on their own.
Collin’s hands slid down my arms to take my fingers in a grasp somewhere between gentle and desperate.
“Do you have any idea what it was like for me on our wedding day? You burst into the house, eyes alight with expectation, a brave smile— which I saw right through— pasted on your face, dirt on your gown, and those curls of yours...” Collin released one of my hands long enough to brush aside a curl that had escaped from my braids. “You looked and acted just as I’d imagined you would. It was all I could do not to cross the room and take you in my arms right then and there.”
“You didn’t even make yourself known to me,” I reminded him, remembering how bewildered and overwhelmed I’d felt that morning.
“I couldn’t.” He took both my hands again and lifted them near his heart, gently pulling me closer. “I had to pretend indifference if it killed me— or it could have killed you. The Campbells who’d come, those loyal to your grandfather, thought I was there to keep the commitment I’d made to him long ago. The MacDonalds had come believing that I was making a calculated decision, a sacrifice even, for the benefit of our clan. Really, I was there because I wanted to be, because I’d spent fourteen years dreaming of the day I’d see you again, when you would be mine.” Collin squeezed my fingertips lightly, then brought them to his lips. “Believe me, Katie.”
I wanted to. His impassioned speech stirred that something within me once more, lightening the burden on my heart.
Collin had seemed both aloof and distressed when we’d spoken our wedding vows. But then that kiss. I remembered the sweet promise of it, even as his lips lingered on the back of my hand now, over the ring he’d so painstakingly made for me.
I’d forgotten that when counting my few possessions. But it was mine, along with the man who’d crafted it. Certainly that meant more than the attic full of paintings and other possessions I’d left behind. To be loved by Collin suddenly seemed far better and more important than any other possibility for my future. But was it enough to overcome the danger we faced?
I waited so long. He was still waiting for my response.
I wasn’t certain what to say.
“What a delicate line you’ve been walking.” Pretending in front of Ian could not have been easy.
“Aye.” Collin stared at me, expectation in his gaze as one corner of his mouth lifted hopefully.
I curled my fingers into his, returning the gentle pressure as I looked at him. “You don’t have to walk it alone anymore.”
* * *
Though my questions weren’t close to being answered, Collin had once again managed to soothe my mind and heart. I forgave him— for now— and we continued our ride several more hours into the afternoon. After his sincere admission as to the real reason for our marriage, I promised myself I would trust that he would tell me all as soon as he could. Until then I would be patient. Or try at least.
I did my best to push worry aside and instead to enjoy a few of the rare, peaceful hours of our journey. Birdsong and the sound of a rushing creek filled the air. The sun shone warm and bright, and for the first time since our wedding, I felt the prospect for real happiness with my husband. Our uncertain future and the terrors of the previous night aside, I felt more hopeful than I had in a very long time.
As the afternoon progressed, I noted that Collin had turned Ian’s horse west, and we could no longer hear the creek. The forest was not as dense here, with a vast moor opening up ahead of us.
A feeling of acute unease stole over me at the idea of being out in the open. “Where are we going?”
“Still headed toward home— your home. Campbell land,” Collin corrected. “We’ll see if they allow me to stay,” he added darkly.
“If they don’t, we shall find a better place.” I thought again of Brann. He had a face in my mind now, with a lip permanently curled and beady eyes that followed me wherever I went. It seemed that any place he wasn’t would be better.
“Agreed,” Collin said. “But we have to at least try first.”
Try what? We continued toward the open meadow.
“Straightaway will get us there quickest,” Collin said.
The hair on the back of my neck prickled. There was something about crossing that moor...
“You intend to go through Murray lands?” Alistair shook his head as he rode up alongside us. “Thank you, no. I’ve a wife to get home to.”
“MacDonalds have an old alliance. We’ll be fine,” Collin said.
“You, perhaps, and possibly even your Campbell bride, but no male Campbell in his right mind would dare set a toe on Murray land, leastwise when he’s alone.”
“You’re not alone,” Collin argued.
Alistair shook his head defiantly. “I’m not a fool. You can’t promise me safety in such circumstances, and I’d not ask you to.”
“What do you suggest, then?” Collin said, exasperation and impatience heavy in his voice.
“We could go by way of the Stewarts. No one will trouble us there.”
“Unless Brann expects us to do just that,” Collin said.
Alistair shrugged. “More likely he’ll think like you and be waiting on the Murray’s north border.”
“Stewarts way will add a good day or more to our journey,” Collin argued.
“A small price to keep my neck,” Alistair said.
“No,” I interrupted. “We mustn’t take either route. We should not cross that moor.” I snapped my mouth shut, shocked at my own words.
“What is it, lass?” Alistair stopped his horse, and Collin followed, then dismounted and helped me to do the same.
“I—” I glanced at Collin, expecting to see annoyance, or at the least amusement in his expression. Instead he leaned forward, watching me expectantly, as if I actually had experience and reason guiding my words.
“Go on, Katie. We’re listening.” He tethered Ian’s ho
rse then stepped nearer to me.
I shook my head and backed away, frightened by the myriad of images— people and places— stampeding through my mind. “What’s happening to me?” I bent over, hands wrapped around my pounding head. “How do I make it stop?” Scene after scene converged in my mind, flashing from one location to another, Ian to Brann to other men I did not know and didn’t wish to. They all spoke and acted at once, each demanding my attention. I feared missing something important and turned to and fro in a frantic effort to keep up. I stumbled, falling—
When I came to, Collin sat on the ground, holding me in his lap.
I lifted confused, weary eyes to his. “What happened?”
“You fell. I caught you— almost didn’t. It was easier when you were five. Though holding you like this wasn’t nearly as enjoyable then.” His concerned expression gave way to a cryptic smile.
“Bit of advice,” Alistair offered, chuckling. “Just sit yourself down next time. Save this poor fellow’s heart from jumping out of his skin.”
“You find this amusing?” I looked from one to the other. Alistair appeared downright pleased at my ailment, while Collin at least attempted a look of chagrin.
“We’re not amused,” he assured me.
“Just relieved,” Alistair said. “Forgive us if we seem a bit giddy. You’ve had us both worried. But it seems that was for naught. All is well.”
I lifted a hand to my head and groaned, feeling anything but well. “How do I make it go away?” I squeezed my eyes shut against the replaying scenes, coming at me slower now, though they remained, each vying for the premier position.
“You don’t,” Alistair said. “And you shouldn’t wish it so. The sight is in your blood, lass— a gift, just as surely as God blessed me with the finest hair color.” He stroked his auburn beard with affection.
“Some gift,” I scoffed. Hearing voices, seeing things... this wasn’t good. “In England they lock away people with broken minds.”
“Nothing about you is broken.” Collin cradled my head to his chest, as if attempting to ease the ache. It did a little.
“Don’t fight it,” he advised. “The longer you hold the vision in, the more you’ll hurt.”
Alistair squatted beside us. “You’ve both a blessing and a burden to bear, one and the same, lass. To have the sight is to have power. And with that comes responsibility.”
“I don’t have the sight. I can’t.” Such a thing was impossible, wasn’t it? “I’ve never had it before.” Ian’s angry face appeared in my mind again. It hardly seemed a gift, but rather something to get both me and Collin into a great deal of trouble.
“You had extraordinary visions when you were a child,” Collin said. “Back then you bragged about it— leastwise so far as you were able to use it to get Brann or me into trouble. Your abilities were well known.”
“They went away, then,” I said, still denying the tremors of warning pulsing through me.
“Perhaps you are only able to see in the Highlands,” Alistair suggested. “I don’t know of any Campbell lairds who’ve tested their sight beyond that.”
“Her sight has been working just fine in England,” Collin said. “You saw her paintings.”
“What about them?” I pushed away from him and sat up straight.
“The two you brought with you were both scenes in the Highlands— places I’m certain you’ve never been. If your other paintings were similar, I think it’s possible you’ve been predicting your future without even realizing it.”
Another shiver passed through me, this one filled with peculiar truth. Had I been painting my future? Even my mother had suggested as much when we parted, telling me that my art spoke of a longing for adventure. And the other night in the river I’d remembered a painting I’d done, of a woman floating upon her back. It had prompted me to do the same, a distinct thought of direction as I panicked and flailed helplessly. I tried to recall the details from the original canvas. The woman’s hair had been about the color of mine, a shade darker perhaps, but the water would have made it so. She had been wearing a black gown, and I remember imagining that the scene was about a woman who had lost her husband and was so overcome with grief that she’d attempted to take her own life by jumping in the river— only to change her mind and wish to live. I’d painted her floating on her back for that reason. The similarities in detail were eerie. Had I painted myself?
“The other landscape I brought with me— the ruined castle. Do you know such a place?” I looked to Collin for an answer.
“Aye.” He gave a brief nod but did not elaborate. As easily as the unwanted scenes had appeared in my mind, I saw also his reluctance to tell me. Another aspect of the gift of sight?
“Well, where is it?” I scrambled to my feet, gratefully accepting Alistair’s hand as I rose.
Collin joined us, brushing the dirt from his breeches as he stood. “It’s the old keep on MacDonald land, the one destroyed in the first uprising.”
MacDonald. Land. So we would be going there at some point. This knowledge passed between us without a word.
“But first, to the Campbells,” Collin reminded me.
“Painting, eh? I’ve never heard of the sight being used like that.” Alistair stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Though I seem to recall your mother had a fair hand at portraits. Shortly before you were taken by your father, old Liam warned you not to let others know about your gift. Maybe it was more than a warning. Maybe he had it within him to alter your abilities for a time.”
Collin scoffed. “Campbells are no sorcerers. Liam himself told me that. No magical skills or talents come with the sight. It’s merely another sense, passed directly from generation to generation in her line. It grants no strength beyond that of an ordinary man, no means to stop someone doing something. Only the opportunity to see what is to come and to make wise judgments based upon that knowledge.”
How was I to make any sort of wise judgment, given what little I knew of my home or people, the land or customs? Even my husband and I were still little more than strangers to one another, with much left unsaid and unknown between us. “Whatever it is, I wish it would go away again.” I crossed my arms beneath the makeshift cloak and rubbed them briskly. Here in the shade of the trees, it wasn’t as warm as when we’d been riding with the sun at our backs. Worse than that, the shadows of men and their deeds filtering through my mind chilled and frightened me. I don’t want to know. About Ian or Brann or the harm they wished us.
Yet I did know.
“The only way it gets better is to heed it,” Collin said. “I remember that much. Your head used to throb with it sometimes.”
I had a brief vision of myself as a little girl, curled up on the floor, my head in Collin’s lap. His hand stroked the hair back from my face, his words gentle as he tried to soothe away my agony.
“Tell us,” Collin urged, as if he’d followed me into that same memory. “Don’t allow it to become so bad.”
“I’ll try.” I remembered why I’d refused to tell— so long ago— what I had foreseen. I had known Collin and I were to be separated, and had been so tormented by that and so desperate to keep it from happening that I had held the knowledge inside, believing that if I did not speak of what I saw, it would not come to pass.
Also in memory I could see my grandfather shaking his head at my foolishness. I would have smiled at that glimpse of him, at the connection I was beginning to feel to my past, but the severity of the future demanded all my attention and gravity. I stepped forward, reached for Collin’s hand, and looked to him in earnest, as I began to explain what had burst to the front of my mind moments before.
“Ian guesses you’ll keep to Alistair’s counsel, and he’s overheard Finlay and Donaid predicting Alistair will choose the Stewart pass. Ian and the other MacDonalds will split with the Campbells, telling them they’re going through Murray lands— as you suggested,” I said. “But really they’ll just let the Campbells get an hour or so ahead, while they en
ter the pass later and lay in wait for us.” I looked from Collin to Alistair. “We won’t have a chance.”
Alistair let out a long breath, while Collin muttered beneath his.
“Some brother you’ve got there,” Alistair observed.
“We’re a close family,” Collin said, a bitter edge to his voice. “What about Brann?” he asked me.
“He isn’t that far away. And he isn’t alone. There are other men with him.” I paused, biting my lip as I concentrated. I was pulling this information from thin air, it seemed, yet it was also a near tangible thing. “Four, I think.” In my mind I watched them conversing near a fire. “Brann didn’t trust Malcom enough to come all the way to the cave last night. Instead Brann has men strung out all along our most likely route between here and Campbell land. He wants to stop me before I can get there.”
“He’s waiting for Malcom to join him,” Alistair guessed.
I nodded. “Yes. I think you’re right. If we keep heading toward Murray or Stewart lands— across that moor— we’ll meet up. It won’t go well.”
“Fine, friendly laird you’ve got,” Collin returned to Alistair.
“The best sort,” Alistair agreed with false heartiness. “Burn you in your own bed if you’re not careful.”
“Truly?” I asked.
“Aye,” Alistair answered, his face drooping with soberness. “He wants the land for himself, for sheep. The Campbell families who have been farming that land and raising families there for generations are no longer welcome. But Brann doesn’t just ask them to leave. No.” Alistair shook his head. “He’s set dozens of crofts on fire in the past two years, leaving the folks who do survive with nothing more than the clothes on their backs and a real desire to flee. Others he’s sold off to the English as indentured servants to the colonies.”
“That’s horrible.” I pressed my free hand to my stomach, feeling ill. Collin held tight to the other, as if to steady me. Images of burning homes, and families being torn apart flashed through my mind. Who knew, but that I was seeing real people whose lives had been forever harmed or even taken from them.
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