Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
C onnor walked ahead on the narrow deer path, pausing every few paces to ensure Kate didn’t need assistance. The morning mist clung to the hills, the air crisp and clean. He’d risen before dawn, restless after another night of troubled dreams about Cameron. The message to the MacDonalds had been sent, but waiting for their response left him feeling hollow and useless.
He needed this, a few hours away from the weight of being laird. And for reasons he couldn’t quite explain, or perhaps didn’t want to examine too closely, he wanted Kate with him.
The wind whipped around them as Kate plodded up the steep, rocky path. Her boots slipped on loose stones, sending tiny avalanches tumbling down the hillside. He suppressed a grin when she mopped her brow with her sleeve, cursing under her breath.
“Are you certain this mysterious destination is worth all this... exercise?” She called out, huffing and puffing.
He turned, brow furrowed in confusion. “Exercise? What manner of word is that?”
“Oh,” Kate panted. The heather-scented breeze cooled her flushed cheeks. “It’s when you... move your body to become stronger. Like training, but not for battle.”
Connor’s lips quirked into a half-smile as he watched her navigate the treacherous ground, her skirts gathered in one hand while the other reached for purchase on the rocky slope.
“Ye mean to tell me people in Boston move about just to become stronger? With no purpose?”
“Something like that,” she managed, accepting his hand as he helped her over a particularly challenging section.
“Not much farther now,” he assured her, his deep voice carrying on the wind.
“You said that an hour ago,” she grumbled, even though a smile lit her face.
“Impatient, are we?”
“Just wondering if you’re lost and too proud to admit it.” She released his hand the moment she was on level ground.
“A MacLeod, lost on his own lands?” Connor pressed a hand to his chest in mock offense. “You wound me, lass.”
The path narrowed further as they made their way through the heather-covered hills. The morning mist clung to the ground, and the scent of peat and wet stone filled the air around them.
“Mind your step here,” he warned. “The ground’s treacherous after yesterday’s rain.”
A rather unladylike snort escaped as she said, “Yesterday? It seems like it rains almost every day.”
Connor shrugged, a smile on his face. “Aye, but today ’tis just a wee mist. Now yesterday, that was a proper smirr . Though if ye want real rain, ye would like the dreich . That’s when it’s gray and dreary and the rain doesna stop. Or there’s the drookit , that’s when ye get so soaked through ye look like a drowned rat. And then there’s the stoating , when the rain bounces right off the ground, and the haar , though that’s more of a thick fog that rolls in from the sea...”
“Okay, okay!” Kate laughed, holding up her hands in surrender. “I get it. You Scots are completely obsessed with the weather.”
The sound reached them before the sight, a soft rushing that grew steadily louder as they approached. Connor watched her face, waiting for the moment when she would hear it too. Her head tilted slightly, brow furrowing in concentration.
“Is that a waterfall?” she asked.
“Aye.” He gestured for her to follow. “Just around these rocks.”
The path ended abruptly at a curtain of hanging vines. Connor pushed them aside, revealing the hidden sanctuary beyond. “After you.”
She stepped through, and he heard her soft gasp of surprise. The sound pleased him more than he cared to admit.
The pool lay in a small, sheltered hollow, fed by a waterfall that cascaded down moss-covered rocks. The rain gave way to sunlight slanting through a gap in the surrounding cliffs, catching in the spray and creating a rainbow that arched across the crystalline water. Wildflowers dotted the banks, their colors vibrant against the lush green.
“Connor, it’s...” She turned in a slow circle, taking in the secluded beauty. “It’s magical.”
“I found it when I was a lad of ten,” he said, moving to stand beside her. “I was hiding from my brothers after stealing the last of cook’s honey cakes.” The memory brought a smile to his lips. “I’ve never shown it to anyone else.”
She looked at him then, something unreadable in her expression. “Why show me?”
It was a fair question, one he’d asked himself, as he’d impulsively invited her on this morning trek. Why indeed? Because she’d helped him craft the message to the MacDonalds when his own thoughts had been too clouded by anger? Because she’d shown more sense and strategy than half his advisors who clamored for war? Or was it something else entirely, the way her eyes lit up when she solved a problem, how she spoke her mind without fear, unlike any woman he’d ever known?
“I thought you might appreciate it,” he said finally, the words inadequate to his own ears. “And I wanted to thank you. For your help with the MacDonald message.”
Kate seemed to accept this, turning back to the pool. “Can we go closer?”
“Of course. Mind your step, the rocks can be slippery.”
They picked their way down to the water’s edge. Connor found a flat boulder near the pool and gestured for Kate to sit. He settled beside her, careful to leave a bit of space between them.
“The locals call this Lochan nan Sìthichean ,” he said. “Part of Coire na Creiche .” He leaned back on his hands, letting the peace of the place wash over him. “Legend says a spirit dwells in these waters, one who grants wishes to those pure of heart.”
“Do you believe that?” Kate asked, her voice softer than usual.
He considered the question. As a boy, he’d certainly believed. Had whispered his deepest wishes into the pool, hoping the spirit would hear. As a man...
“I believe there’s magic in the world,” he said carefully. “Not always the kind from tales, but magic nonetheless.”
She trailed her fingers through the clear water, creating ripples that expanded outward. “What kind of magic, then?”
“The magic of a perfect dawn. Of a sword balanced just right in your hand.” He paused, watching her profile. “Of finding exactly what you need when you least expect it.”
She looked up then, her eyes catching the light. For a moment, neither spoke, and Connor felt something shift between them, something as delicate and powerful as the mist rising from the pool.
“There’s another part to the legend,” he said, his voice rougher than he intended. “It’s said that if two people with true hearts come to the pool together, the spirit will bless their... connection.”
“Connection?” Kate arched a brow, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
Heat rose to his face. “ Mo chreach , woman, must you make me say it? Their love. The spirit blesses their love.”
Her smile widened. “I’m just trying to understand the local traditions.”
“My mother brought me here once, told me the stories,” he said, the memory suddenly vivid. “Said someday I might bring someone special.” He hadn’t thought of that day in years. His mother’s gentle voice, her hand smoothing his hair as she spoke of love and magic.
“You must miss her,” Kate said quietly.
“Aye.” The simple word contained volumes. “She would have liked you, I think. She had little patience for fools.”
Kate laughed, the sound echoing off the rocks. “Is that a compliment?”
“From a MacLeod? Absolutely.”
She shook her head, still smiling. “Thank you for bringing me here. It’s the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen.”
“You haven’t seen much of Scotland then,” Connor replied automatically, then regretted his words when her expression clouded.
“No, I suppose I haven’t,” she said, looking away.
He cursed himself silently. There was clearly more to her story than she was willing to share, and his careless words had reminded her of whatever burden she carried.
“Would you like to see the cave behind the waterfall?” he asked, hoping to recapture the easy moment they’d shared.
Her eyes lit up. “There’s a cave?”
“A small one.” He stood and offered his hand.
This time, she took it without hesitation.
The path behind the waterfall was narrow and slick with spray. He led the way, keeping a firm grip on Kate’s hand. The roar of falling water filled his ears as they slipped behind the curtain of white, emerging into the cool dimness of the cave beyond.
It was smaller than he remembered, barely large enough for both of them to stand upright. Water dripped from the ceiling, and the walls glittered with embedded minerals that caught what little light filtered through the falls.
“It’s like being inside a jewel,” Kate said, voice hushed with wonder.
Connor watched her explore the small space, touching the damp walls with reverent fingers, her face alight with joy. Something twisted in his chest, something dangerously close to tenderness.
“The clan elders say the cave was formed by the tears of a fairy whose mortal lover was killed in battle,” he said, leaning against the wall. “She wept for a hundred years, and her tears carved out this hollow in the rock.”
Kate turned to him, her expression thoughtful. “You know a lot of sad stories.”
“Most Highland tales end in tragedy,” he admitted. “But not all. Some speak of great love that transcends death itself.” He paused, surprised by his own words. He wasn’t given to romantic notions, yet here he was, speaking of love and magic like a lovestruck youth.
“And do you believe in that kind of love?” Kate asked, her voice barely audible above the waterfall.
Connor found himself moving closer, drawn by something he couldn’t name. “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “My parents had it, I think. But I’ve always had the clan to think of, my brothers to protect.”
“That sounds lonely,” she said softly.
“At times.” He was close enough now to see the droplets of water clinging to her eyelashes. “But necessary.”
“Is it?” She tilted her face up to his, and for one breathless moment, he thought she might close the distance between them.
Instead, she stepped back, nearly stumbling on the uneven floor. He reached out instinctively to steady her, his hands finding her waist. Through the fabric of her dress, he could feel the warmth of her skin, the slight tremor that ran through her body at his touch.
“Kate,” he began, though he wasn’t sure what he meant to say.
“We should go back,” she said quickly, her cheeks flushed. “Before someone notices we’re missing.”
Connor released her, immediately feeling the loss. “ Tha thu ceart ,” he murmured. “You’re right.”
They made their way back through the waterfall in silence. The morning had grown warmer, the mist burning off to reveal a clear blue sky. He helped her back to the boulder where they’d sat earlier, noticing how she carefully maintained distance between them.
Had he imagined the moment in the cave? The way she’d looked at him, as if seeing something in him no one else had bothered to look for?
Kate wrung out the hem of her dress, avoiding his gaze. “So, did you ever make wishes here as a boy? What did you wish for?”
The abrupt change of subject was transparent, but he allowed it. “Many things. To be the best swordsman in the clan. For my father’s approval.” He smiled ruefully. “For Cameron to stop hiding my boots.”
She laughed, the tension between them easing slightly. “Did any of your wishes come true?”
“I became a fair hand with a sword,” he conceded. “The rest...” He shrugged. “Perhaps the fairy found me wanting.”
“I doubt that,” Kate said, with such sincerity that he felt something catch in his throat.
“Would you like to make a wish?” he asked, gesturing to the pool.
She hesitated, then nodded. “How do I do it?”
“Just close your eyes and think your wish. The spirit will hear.”
Kate turned to the pool, closing her eyes. Connor watched as her lips moved silently, her expression one of such longing that it made his chest ache. He knew she must be wishing to return home, back to the mysterious place she came from. The thought brought an unexpected pang of sadness.
“Ready,” she said finally, turning back to him. “Don’t you want to know what I wished for?”
“No,” Connor replied, following Highland tradition. “It won’t come true if you tell me.”
As they made their way back around the rocks, a shout met their ears. Ewan appeared on the path, his expression urgent.
“Connor!” he called. “I’ve been searching half the morning for you.”
He straightened, instantly alert. “What’s happened?”
“A message from the MacDonalds.” Ewan handed him a sealed parchment, his eyes flicking briefly to Kate. “They’ve responded to our offer.”
The peaceful bubble of the morning shattered. Connor broke the seal, scanning the contents quickly. His jaw tightened as he read.
“What is it?” Kate asked, coming to stand beside him.
“They reject our terms,” he said grimly. “They demand the brooch in exchange for Cameron’s life. If we don’t deliver it by sundown tomorrow...” He couldn’t finish the sentence. The threat against his brother was too terrible to voice aloud.
“What exactly does it say?” Kate asked.
His eyes darkened as he translated the Gaelic. “They claim the brooch is their rightful property. They’ll execute Cameron if we don’t surrender it within the fortnight.” He crumpled the parchment in his fist. “They say they have proof it was stolen from their clan generations ago.”
“They’re bluffing,” Kate said with certainty. “This is a negotiation tactic. They want you to panic.”
Ewan made a choking sound. “With respect, mistress, you know nothing of clan politics.”
“I know people,” Kate retorted. “And this—” she tapped the parchment, “—is written by someone who wants you to think they hold all the cards. But they don’t. Besides, you planned for this. You have the replica brooch ready.”
He studied her face, finding nothing but conviction there. “What makes you so sure they’ll accept it?”
“Look at the language. ‘The brooch or consequences will be dire.’ It’s vague. If they were really going to kill Cameron, they’d be explicit about it.” She handed the message back to him. “They need him alive as leverage. This is posturing. And they won’t know the difference between the real brooch and your copy.”
Ewan looked between them, clearly bewildered by Connor’s willingness to listen to a woman’s assessment of clan warfare. But he had seen the wisdom in Kate’s strategy before, and something in her confidence steadied him now.
“We need to return to the keep,” he said, making his decision. “I want to speak with the council before we make the exchange.”
As they gathered their things and prepared to leave the sanctuary of the pool, Connor caught her watching him with an unreadable expression.
“What?” he asked quietly.
“Nothing,” she said, shaking her head. “Just... Don’t let fear guide your decision. That’s what they want.”
He nodded, grateful for her steady presence despite the turmoil churning inside him. The peaceful interlude at the pool seemed a lifetime ago now, the almost-moment in the cave, a dream quickly fading in the harsh light of reality.
Yet as they made their way back along the path, he found himself drawing strength from the memory. From her belief in him. From the magic of the place they’d shared, however briefly.
Perhaps the fairy had granted him a wish after all. Not one he’d made as a boy, but one his heart had made only recently, without him even knowing.
The wish for someone who saw him clearly, who understood the weight he carried, who made him feel less alone.