The Highlander’s Cursed Lass (Spellbound Hearts #4)

Chapter one

Elgol, Scotland

Everyone feared death. Cursed as I was, my greatest terror was that it would never come for me.

Mara’s breath rattled softly in her chest, each one weaker than the last. The tent flapped in a gust from the storm gathering outside, and rain began to pelt the canvas.

The scent of wet earth mixed with the stale air trapped inside our cramped shelter.

The gathering storm didn’t frighten me half as much as Mara’s approaching death.

I reached out with a trembling hand and smoothed the silver strands from her deeply lined brow, careful not to disturb the blanket tucked around her thin shoulders to ward off the winter chill lingering in the air.

Sickness clung to the woolen blanket. It was a sour scent no amount of fresh heather could mask.

I stared helplessly at Mara as anger swelled in my chest. Shadows pooled in the hollows of her cheeks, and her once-creamy skin looked waxy and almost translucent.

For fifteen years, I’d studied under her, mastering the healing arts, but there was nothing I could do to cure old age and save her.

Unshed tears gathered at the back of my throat, threatening to choke me.

I swallowed past them. I was intimate enough with death to know my time with Mara was almost up, and whatever else I wanted to say needed to be said now.

“Ye promised ye’d aid Gillie in teaching her children the spring songs this year,” I whispered helplessly, my words forming puffs of white circles from my lips.

Beside me, Gillie drew a sharp breath, and I reached for her and squeezed her hand, letting her know she was not alone.

Mara’s thin lips curled faintly. “Ye will aid her in teaching my grandbairns,” she croaked. “Ye’ll be Gillie’s strength in my absence.”

I nodded. I would do my best for Gillie, who had become like a younger sister to me, just as Mara was now like a mama.

They were my family, as were the other Summer Walkers, ever since I’d had to flee my home to protect myself and those I loved.

My throat tightened as I thought of how Mara had taken me in without question, given me shelter, and a family to join when I had been forced adrift in the world alone.

Over the years, I’d watched her teach half the Summer Walkers’ children their first dances, songs, and stories of the old ways.

And I had watched her bury my adopted da, my adopted brother, the old medicine woman and her husband, and too many more to name.

Time was a fleeting thing for most everyone, but not for me.

It was an agonizing beast that robbed me of those I loved.

I grasped Mara’s bony hand, her skin so paper-thin that the blue veins beneath the surface were painfully visible.

I stared down at those lines as my fingers closed around hers, swallowing the lump that rose in my throat.

The past tugged at me as I looked at my hand next to Mara’s.

My skin was smooth, creamy, unblemished by wrinkles, sunspots, or even a scar, just as it had been twenty years ago, when I’d stolen Morgana’s goblet, made a foolish wish, and the witch had cursed me never to age.

A high whistle from the wind jerked my attention back to the present, and I tried to blink back tears, but they spilled over and slid down my cheeks as Mara exhaled another rattle, and the air grew heavy.

Death was here for her. I’d felt it enough times over the years to know that when it entered a room, it took up all the space.

Outside, the rain drummed harder, drowning out everything but the awful silence between Mara’s labored exhales.

Numbness crept through my knees where they pressed against the hard ground, but I feared moving and bringing death sooner.

Her breathing grew so shallow that I could scarcely tell she was still breathing. I squeezed her hand as her eyes fluttered shut, and the thump under my palm on her chest faded. She let out a tiny sound, like a moan of relief, then her lips parted.

“She’s gone,” Gillie whispered, pressing her cold hand over mine where it rested on Mara’s silent chest.

My throat closed in a spasm of pain, but I forced myself to nod, though it took all my strength not to scream my anguish over losing yet another person I loved.

Why had I allowed myself to care so deeply?

This pain, this God-awful pain ripping through me, was why I needed to keep my walls up.

Bile rose in my throat, and my stomach clenched.

It was impossible to guard against all love.

The truth left me cold with fear, even as I gathered courage.

I had to be strong for Gillie, but it felt as if Death wielded a serrated dagger and had drawn it slowly across my heart.

I looked down, expecting to see blood on my gown, but there was nothing but plain brown wool.

A desperate laugh escaped me. Mara was gone.

Eventually, Gillie would be gone, and so would her husband, and their bairns, Dyron and Sorcha.

I didn’t want anyone else to mean so much to me.

I curled my hands into fists so tight that my fingernails cut into my palms.

I purposely never thought of my past because it was so painful, but it battered me now and refused to be ignored.

I had been a foolish girl, believing myself in love with Alec, knowing he had chosen my sister because she was the eldest and would inherit our da’s stronghold.

I’d desperately wanted to be the eldest, so Alec would wed me and one day love me.

I’d been wise enough to know that men who wanted to gain, keep, and wield power did not choose a lass to wed for love. They picked us for the land and the advantage we’d bring, and I had not possessed the land my sister would.

The decision to steal the magical goblet that would grant my wish to be older had been simple. What I had not considered was being caught by Morgana or that the witch would twist my wish into a curse.

I had wanted to be older than my sister, not live forever.

I forced myself to let go of Mara’s hand and stand. We needed to attend to her burial, but before I could even turn to leave the tent, Gillie caught my hand. “Ye’ll nae leave me, will ye?”

A tremble of fear underlay her words. “Where is it ye think I would go?” I asked.

Gillie’s gaze darted to Mara, then back to me. “Back to yer da’s home. Yer the eldest Wallace daughter, aye. Will it nae be yers someday?”

The question startled me. I nodded slowly.

“Aye, I suppose so, when my da is dead.” It occurred to me then that he probably already was, but I could not go back, not still cursed.

If I could return, it would never be to claim the stronghold.

“Possessing the stronghold did nae ever mean anything to me,” I said truthfully.

Gillie gave me a sad, knowing look, as I’d told her, told them all about my past. I’d had to when they’d noticed I didn’t age. “Ye wanted his love. Alec.”

“Aye,” I said without choking out the word as I had for so many years.

“What good would any castle be to me now, when everyone inside it, anyone I love, will grow old and die while I remain the same?” Tears filled my eyes once more, and I swiped at them even as Gillie reached for me and hugged me to her.

I melted into her embrace, the burden of my years behind me and the unending years ahead making my shoulders curl.

I could have love and loss or loneliness. Both choices brought pain.

I stared down at Mara’s still form as Gillie ran a soothing hand over my head. Time devoured everything but me. I envied Mara. The realization struck with terrible clarity. She’d lived a full life, loved, laughed, grown old, and left this world surrounded by those who cared for her.

As long as I was cursed, I would never have such a life, and I could not endure another loss like this.

I could not allow myself to love a man, or anyone, for that matter, knowing I would have to watch them fade into the grave while I remained unchanged.

There was only one hope of ending the curse and of having any sort of real life.

I had to return to the Dark Woods. The thought raised the hair on the back of my neck, but there was no choice.

I had to face Morgana again and somehow convince her to break the curse or end my life.