Chapter 13
Keira stumbled out of Raphael’s study as if she were walking on someone else’s feet and not her own. The encounter had left her shaken, her heart torn between staying and going. The newfound information rang in her ears, refusing to leave the confines of her mind even for a single moment.
But you are guilty of the same crime.
She frowned, banishing the truth in those words. As she hurried down the corridor, she barely noticed her surroundings until she collided with someone, nearly knocking them over.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she gasped, regaining her composure and looking up to see who it was.
“It’s quite all right.” Violet smiled at her. “No harm done.”
No harm done.
Keira had a lot to say to that, but she managed to bite her tongue in time and merely smiled back at the lady who was being nothing but courteous and friendly.
Keira took a moment to study Violet. She was enchanting with her elegant attire and a poise that spoke of grace. Indeed, Violet was truly worthy of becoming an important man’s wife. An important man such as Laird MacCurtney.
There was a flash in Keira’s mind, and she could see it all in an instant.
Violet and Raphael’s wedding bells ringing, and everyone cheering them on, happy to see them together.
Her heart clenched, wishing to explode right inside her chest. The unexpected image brought her more anguish than she had ever thought, and she realized that she was treading on dangerous ground.
Despite her initial shock, Keira found herself suddenly drawn to Violet’s genuine warmth and kindness, which she seemed to exude out of every smile, every word, every gesture.
“Where are ye off to in such a rush, Keira?” Violet asked with a playful tone of voice. “One would think the castle is on fire.”
“Oh, no, nothing of the sort.”
Just my heart.
But once again, Keira didn’t voice that thought.
“Say, would ye like to go on a tour of the castle with me? I remember Lady MacCurtney taking me as a wee lass, telling me all about its rich history,” Violet suggested.
“Now, I do believe that I had forgotten more than half of what she told me then, but from what I remember, the gallery is absolutely marvelous. Ye simply must see it.”
Keira hesitated for a moment, still grappling with the turmoil inside her. But perhaps a tour would be a welcome distraction, allowing her mind to clear and her heart to find its footing once more.
“That is a wonderful idea,” she agreed.
“Splendid!” Violet exclaimed and locked arms with Keira, immediately leading her through the castle’s hallways.
The aged walls seemed to come alive with stories from centuries past as portraits of noble ancestors looked down upon them, the same ones Keira remembered going past with Elspeth.
“Here we have the gallery of the castle’s first Laird and his wife,” Violet explained, pointing to a magnificent painting depicting a regal-looking couple. “Lord and Lady MacIntyre. They were known for their charitable acts and their love for the arts.”
Keira studied the painting, marveling at the couple’s elegant attire and the pride in their eyes. “Their legacy lives on in this magnificent castle.”
Violet smiled. “Indeed, it does. Let me show ye more.”
They continued their exploration, moving through grand chambers and opulent ballrooms, each space filled with history and memories. Keira found herself captivated not only by the architecture but also by Violet’s passionate storytelling.
“Ah, this room,” Violet said as they entered a lavishly decorated chamber. “This was once the favored gathering place for poets and musicians—a center of creativity.”
Keira took in the beauty of the room, imagining the lively gatherings that had taken place within those very walls. “It must have been a wondrous time.”
“It was,” Violet agreed, a fond glint in her eyes. “It’s essential to cherish our history and the moments that shape it.”
As they delved deeper into the castle’s secrets, Violet shared tales of love and loss, triumphs and tribulations, each story adding another layer to the castle’s rich tapestry. Keira found herself opening up to Violet, finding solace in this sweet woman’s understanding and genuine interest.
“And here we are,” Violet said, leading Keira into a quaint study. “This was Lord MacIntyre’s personal sanctuary.”
Keira glanced around the room, taking in the old leather-bound books and the polished wooden desk. It was a place where history had been penned, where decisions had been made.
“It’s a room filled with wisdom,” Keira remarked, admiring the tranquil ambiance.
Violet nodded. “Indeed, wisdom, but also the echoes of lives well-lived and choices well-made.”
As their tour of the castle continued, Violet suddenly stopped. She lifted her index finger and pointed at the chamber right at the end of a long corridor. “That is where the Laird’s private chambers are.”
Keira was immediately bitten by the green-eyed monster, a sensation she had never felt before.
She wanted to make sense of this sudden intrusion into her heart, but she couldn’t.
The truth was, she couldn’t come to terms with why Violet would be in possession of such information.
She herself didn’t know where the Laird’s private chambers were.
Violet had been here before. Perhaps his mother gave her the grand tour, without taking her into every single chamber, just showing her where they were… in case… well, in case of an emergency. Yes, an emergency. That was why.
Keira swallowed heavily, refusing to show how affected she was by this knowledge… emergency or not. Violet lingered for a moment, then she continued, her voice as melodious as before, completely oblivious to the storm she had just awakened in Keira’s mind.
Soon enough, the two ladies found themselves in a gallery that seemed to hold different paintings.
They were all women, and this came as a surprise to Keira.
She felt as if all the women were placed here, nestled in this chamber, either to be hidden or kept safe.
She still wasn’t certain which of those two was the right choice.
In the heart of the gallery, bathed in soft, golden light filtering through elegantly draped curtains, hung a portrait of a pregnant woman. The painting portrayed a serene, ethereal beauty, capturing a tender moment in the life of a woman awaiting the arrival of a new life.
She stood with grace and poise, her hands resting gently on her rounded belly.
The delicate swell of her stomach was adorned in a flowing gown of soft pastels, giving the impression of a blossoming flower.
Her eyes were alight with hope, joy, and a hint of quiet contemplation.
Long, wavy tresses cascaded down her shoulders, framing her face in soft curls.
The artist had skillfully blended light and shadow to accentuate the natural glow of impending motherhood.
A soft radiance seemed to embrace her, adding to the overall warmth and tenderness the portrait exuded.
In the background, hints of a cozy, lovingly decorated room could be discerned, adding to the sense of comfort and anticipation.
Kiera couldn’t stop staring at this portrait. It was absolutely mesmerizing. Violet walked over to her and stood by her side, both of them gazing at this timeless transition from woman to mother.
“Who was she?” Keira finally managed to ask, her gaze still fixated on the captivating portrait.
Violet hesitated for a moment. “That was Eleanor… Raphael’s late wife. She was a beautiful and kind-hearted woman who did not deserve the hand she had been dealt.”
Keira was stunned into silence. What else would she find out about him?
Was there no end to the mystery regarding this man?
At the same time, she couldn’t help but remember Winona’s words.
Had she not said something of the sort about him?
That he was a good man, who did not deserve what had happened to him?
There was so much Keira didn’t know about him. A part of her was afraid, but another part of her—a bigger part—wanted to delve deep into the darkness that comprised the very being of Laird MacCurtney.
She swallowed heavily, feeling her throat dry up. “What happened to her?”
Violet spoke slowly, carefully choosing her words, “The story is a tragic one. The late Lady MacCurtney had an accident. She fell down the stairs. No one really knows what exactly happened because the tragic event took place in the middle of the night, as she apparently woke up and went to fetch a glass of water. It is believed that she slipped and fell. It is one of those terrible tragedies that life is full of.”
“How awful,” Keira gasped silently, pressing her hand to her chest in sympathy. “And the child?”
Violet shook her head. “She was but five months pregnant, and unfortunately, neither she nor the child survived the fall. The butler found them in the wee hours of the morn.”
Keira had no words that could express the depth of sorrow she felt. She couldn’t imagine the pain, the anguish, the torment. “That is so heartbreaking.”
“Indeed,” Violet agreed softly. “And to make matters worse, rumors started goin’ on about a curse. Someone said that a gypsy placed a curse on Raphael when he came here with his clan, predictin’ that any future wife he marries would meet the same fate.”
“A curse?” Keira’s brows furrowed in disbelief. “That seems so… archaic.”
Violet sighed as if burdened by the weight of the tale she was sharing. “People sometimes cling to superstitions, especially in times of grief. It is a way to make sense of the incomprehensible. And the death of a young, healthy woman who was with child is the most incomprehensible of all.”
Keira pondered the tragic fate that had befallen Eleanor. The idea of a curse seemed absurd, yet she could understand how desperate circumstances could lead people to seek meaning and reason in the inexplicable.
“Some actually questioned Raphael’s involvement in all this,” Violet continued mysteriously.
“His involvement?” Keira echoed apprehensively.
“Aye.” Violet nodded. “There were those who didnae believe in the curse and thought it was just a way to cover Raphael’s guilt.
They couldnae imagine that someone could sleep through such a tragedy without hearing a single thing.
But the truth was, she fell down the stairs in the eastern wing, away from their bedchamber.
He couldnae have heard, despite it bein’ night-time. ”
Keira couldn’t imagine such grief. Not only losing his wife but also facing silent accusations that he had a hand in his wife’s death. It all sounded absolutely horrible. It did sound much like a curse, should anyone believe in such things.
“Did Raphael believe in this curse?” Keira asked, her curiosity getting the best of her.
Violet shook her head. “Raphael is a pragmatic man. He believes in fate being what we make of it. He honors Eleanor’s memory but doesnae let superstitions dictate his life.”
Keira admired Raphael’s resilience in the face of tragedy. “That’s a strength I deeply admire.”
Violet smiled warmly. “Raphael is a remarkable man. His heart bears the weight of loss, yet he continues to live and care for those around him.”
With those words, she turned to Keira. “As far as that curse is concerned, I am nae one to be frightened by such stories. If it’s true, then so be it. I want to ken Raphael for who he is and stand by him, to be his partner, his confidante—his everything.”
A wave of jealousy surged through Keira, fierce and unexpected. She was upset for reasons she struggled to define even to herself. The conviction in Violet’s voice struck a chord, and she knew she had to leave.
“I… I think I’ve seen enough,” Keira stammered, her face flushing as she turned away from the mesmerizing portrait. “Thank you for the tour, Violet.”
Violet glanced at Keira, sensing the sudden change in the atmosphere. “Are ye all right?” she inquired, a note of concern in her voice.
“I’ll be fine, thank you for your concern,” Keira replied, forcing a smile. “I just need some air.”
With a polite nod, Keira hurried out of the gallery, leaving the haunting beauty of the portrait and Violet’s conviction behind. The corridors of the castle seemed to echo with her conflicted thoughts.
Why did I even come here?
She urged her feet to take her as far away from Violet as possible, but that treacherous little voice inside her had the answer.
You know why you came here, Keira. You know that very well. But now, you want more, and that changes everything…