Chapter Thirteen
Cailean glanced at the early morning sky. It was filled with dark-gray clouds from end to end and the wind was blowing in off the sea, bringing with it the scent of another storm on its way. Wonderful. As if they needed more rain and mud to contend with.
“Barrels of oats and spare blankets,” he said to the man guiding the carthorses. “See that they are well tied down, Aiden. The last thing we need is losing half the load to a ditch.”
As he watched the cart trundle out of the gate, he rubbed the back of his neck.
His limbs felt heavy and his eyes grainy.
Sleep had escaped him for most of the night and now he was paying the price.
Perhaps he ought to have Maggie mix up one of her sleeping drafts.
He winced at the thought. They tasted like horse piss, and he wasn’t entirely sure that wasn’t their main ingredient.
He was leaning down to check the straps on a bundle of wool blankets when he felt her.
He didn’t see her, not at first, but he felt her nearby like a bonfire burning against his senses.
He straightened, turned, and there she was.
Rose was standing by the door to the keep, looking out over the courtyard.
She’d bound her midnight hair back in a plait and wore a burgundy cloak pulled tight against the weather.
To Cailean’s eyes she looked like some untamed spirit of old—beautiful, wild. And very, very dangerous.
He passed a hand across his face, feeling his stomach tighten like it always did when he laid eyes on her. She was the main reason he’d lain awake all last night, her and the memories of their kiss.
Her eyes found him and she waved, breaking into a wide smile. Picking up her skirts, she hurried towards him.
“I need to speak to you,” she said urgently. “I think I’ve found something.”
Cailean glanced around at the courtyard busy with people loading and recording supplies.
“Not here,” he murmured.
He led her across the courtyard, the two of them slipping into the blessed calm of the stable. Here, the noise from outside was muted, and the air was filled the contented munching of the horses in their stalls.
He turned to face her but didn’t speak. Neither did she. Was she remembering what had happened between them yesterday just like he was? Was she hoping it would happen again, just like he was? Or, more likely, was she regretting it and hoping to forget it had ever happened?
With an effort, he fought the urge to reach out and touch her, forcing his hands to remain firmly by his sides.
Finally, she broke the silence. “I spoke to Maggie, like you suggested.”
He felt an obscure kind of disappointment. This was what she wanted to speak to him about? He schooled his expression to one of mild interest.
“And what did Maggie have to tell ye?”
“She remembered the story. It’s about a sea god, like Seamus said, but the curse happened a bit differently to the story they tell. The god was imprisoned and I think… I think that prison might be weakening and that’s what’s allowing his curse to leak out.”
Cailean’s clenched. Curses? Gods? Prisons. Surely not. “It’s just an old story.”
“It’s not,” Rose said softly, her tone gentle but firm. “You know it’s not. Brina saw the stormlights and I’ve been speaking to others that saw them too. And remember, it was a sea goddess that brought me here. What if Lir is the goddess in the story?”
Cailean studied the wood of the barn wall, where time and the elements had turned the old wood silver.
“If that’s so,” he growled, turning to look at her, “then why has Lir not fixed the mess she left behind? If this is the work of some jealous god, then why has she not countered it? Surely she has the power? Why has she chosen to let my people suffer? I will tell ye why. Because gods and goddesses care nothing for the lives of mortals. This is all just a game to them! We are just pieces on their giant board, and they move us around on a whim! Whether it be Maggie’s old gods or Beatrice’s new one, none of them can be trusted. I’ve said it all along!”
He was suddenly furious, shaking with rage.
All the emotion he’d kept buried deep within himself for the last four years came racing to the surface.
He saw Mary’s pale face in his mind’s eye, saw her lips muttering prayers that went unanswered, saw himself kneeling at the Christian altar and at the pagan shrine out by the loch offering anything, everything, if they would only save his wife.
But they hadn’t. He’d lost Mary to the cold indifference of the gods.
He would not lose Rose too.
“Ye need to leave it,” he said hoarsely.
“Why? What are you afraid I’ll find?”
He studied her, dread clawing up his throat. It’s not what you will find that terrifies me, he wanted to say. But what will find you.
But aloud all he said was, “Some things are best left buried.”
“And some things should never have been forgotten,” she replied, her voice rising slightly. “I can’t leave it, Cailean. You know that. I can’t stand aside and let people suffer while there is a chance I can help them.”
Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes flashing with defiance and still—still—he wanted nothing more than to kiss her again. The ache of it nearly knocked him off balance.
He stepped closer. “Rose, I—” His words trailed off. What could he say? Don’t do this, Rose. Don’t meddle in the business of the gods. Don’t make me lose you too. I don’t think I could survive it.
Something twisted in his chest. Fear. Guilt. Desire. Gods help him, all three.
He sighed, his shoulders sagging. “All right,” he breathed. “What do ye need from me?”
She smiled and it lit up the gloom of the stable like the morning sun. “I’ll let you know as soon as I figure that out.”
He cleared his throat and gazed at her. “Listen, Rose. I—”
The door swung open, and a stable lad came in leading Catriona’s bay mare. The lad startled when he spotted Cailean and Rose standing there.
“Oh! My apologies, I didnae realize ye were in here, my laird.”
Cailean bit back a snarl of annoyance and smoothed his face to calmness. “Dinna fash, lad. How is Parsnip’s colic?”
“Much better,” the stable lad answered. “She’ll be right as rain soon I reckon.”
“I’ll… um… see you later,” Rose mumbled.
Before he could say another word, she took the opportunity to slip away, leaving Cailean staring after her.
*
Rose let the stable door swing shut behind her and stood staring out over the bustling courtyard, trying to let the cold air cool her heated skin. It didn’t work.
Damn it. Why did this always happen when she was near Cailean MacNeil? Why did her thoughts turn to mush? She could still feel his gaze on her, like an electric current across her skin.
What do ye need from me?
Oh, that was a dangerous question for him to ask. I need you to touch me, she had wanted to say. I need you to kiss me like you did yesterday. I need…
God help her, what did she need?
To get a grip! she told herself fiercely. That’s what you bloody need!
Taking a deep breath, she set off towards the keep, her boots squelching in the mud. She needed time to think, to figure out what was going on, to—
“Rose!”
The small voice pulled her from her thoughts. She turned to see Catriona pelting towards her, holding her skirts out of the mud with one hand while Patch barrelled after her, ears flapping wildly.
Rose laughed as Patch pounced on her hem. “Well, hello to you too!”
“We’ve been looking for ye!” Catriona said breathlessly, skidding to a stop. “Patch was missing ye.”
Rose crouched to scratch behind the little dog’s ears and take her hem out of his mouth. “Aww, did he? Well, I missed him too.” She smiled up at the girl. “And you. Did the storm keep you awake?”
Catriona shrugged. “Patch didnae like it much but it didnae bother me. I’ve seen worse.” She pursed her lips in thought. “Although, there were more stormlights than usual.”
Rose shot to her feet. “Stormlights? You saw them too?”
“Aye. I think it means the sea was angry.”
Rose said nothing. Putting an arm around Catriona’s shoulder, she turned the girl and they walked off together, Patch darting between their feet and growling at a particularly bold chicken that dared cross his path.
Catriona kept up an endless stream of chatter, telling Rose about the new pastries cook was making, the scolding she and her friend Maisie got for stealing eggs from Maisie’s mother’s chicken coop, how a lad called Arnulf had fallen out of a tree and injured his wrist.
Rose nodded and smiled, letting it wash over her, but she wasn’t really listening, until quite casually Catriona said, “Are ye going to marry my da?”
Rose tripped over a stone and nearly went sprawling. “What?”
Catriona giggled. “That’s what it means when grown-ups kiss, isnae it? That ye are going to get married? And ye and my da kissed last night! I saw ye. In the rain.”
Rose stared at the girl, mortification stealing through her. Her cheeks blazed hotter than the hearth in the great hall. Oh God! Catriona had seen them! She worked her jaw a few times, but no words came out. She tried again. “Oh, Catriona, I—That wasn’t—We didn’t mean for anyone to see—”
“Can I be a bridesmaid?” Catriona interrupted, clapping her hands together.
“And can Patch carry the ring? He would love that! Oh, oh, and ye can ride to the chapel on Parsnip! Her colic has almost cleared up now and I could deck her out in flowers, and I could make daisy chains for yer hair, and, and—”
“Whoa!” Rose said, holding up her hands. “Slow down! Things aren’t that simple!”
“Why not?” Catriona replied, puzzled. “Ye like my da, dinna ye? And my da likes ye.”
Rose blinked. “He… he does?”
“Of course he does. He hasnae been anywhere near as grumpy since ye arrived. In fact, he’s only given me a scolding once and he didnae make me put Patch in the kennels. And if ye and Da get married, I’ll get a new ma!” She bounced on her toes in excitement. “Wouldnae that be grand?”