Page 24 of Love Beyond Reach (Morna’s Legacy #11)

F or the following fortnight , I allowed myself to ponder the possibility that Mary might be right about my feelings toward Henry and Jerry—that perhaps my feelings for Henry were based on nothing more than physical attraction, and it was Jerry who held my heart.

If Jerry returned before the end of two months, I knew where my heart would lead me.

Two months to the day that Jerry left, I made my peace in the only way I knew how.

I raged and cried and went to my spell room to search for a spell that might allow me to find him.

Maybe he was on his way back. Maybe the druid hadn’t been able to help him.

Maybe something had slowed him down along the way.

There were so many possibilities, and I couldn’t bring myself to give up on him without trying to find out where he was.

I’d not entered the basement since Jerry left.

In many ways, the room felt as if it were as much his as mine.

He’d helped create it for me, and I could see every memory of us talking and laughing in my mind as if they were only yesterday.

It still smelled of him, and it made the center of my chest ache dreadfully.

I knew the book I sought—one of the first I’d read.

It detailed spells for visions that I had never naturally possessed.

I’d never had reason to try one of the spells until now.

Such spells were tricky. So much depended upon the caster’s intention—what lay in the mind of the witch as the spell was cast.

Grier’s notes made it even more difficult to decide which one to use.

There appeared to be multiple uses for each and every spell.

I read for a long while and finally chose what I hoped would be the safest choice—a simple seer spell that was meant to show me the answer to whatever question was in my heart.

It was a simple recitation in Gaelic. As I put Jerry at the forefront of my mind, I recited the words with care. It was the strangest experience of my life. One moment, I could see the basement’s stone wall in front of me, the next all I could see was a small home unlike any I’d seen before.

Its walls weren’t stone, and its roof wasn’t thatch. Through the window, the rooms appeared to be lit by hundreds of candles. Confused, I forced myself to glance around the scene. I gasped at the sight of a large wagon-like contraption I had no reference for.

Movement from within the home drew my attention back to the window. Tears filled my eyes as understanding sunk in. In the background, I could see a woman. Then as I continued to stare at the window, Jerry appeared, smiling widely as he reached to pull the draperies closed.

The scene confused me. It was the last thing I’d expected to see. Some desperate and hopeful part of my mind had been convinced I would find Jerry resting in the forest on his way back here. But he would never be back here again. Jerry had succeeded in finding his way home.

What I was seeing wasn’t from my time, but his. The druid had helped him. Jerry was home, in his own time, happy with someone I could only assume was his wife. Oh, how she must have missed him while he was away for so long.

When the vision before me returned to my basement, I laid my head down and quietly cried myself to sleep.

I t was dark when I woke. The candles had long since burned away. Feeling my way to the stairs, I climbed up out of my spell room to find the moon high in the sky. Many of the castle’s windows were still lit with candlelight.

What excuse would I give when I entered the castle? Father would be furious, and Alasdair would be worried. Everyone would demand to know where I’d been.

As I rounded the corner, I spotted Mary, her short legs moving so quickly she was barely able to stop herself before smashing against me.

“Morna, ye must get inside. I’ve made excuses for ye as long as I can. Yer father was readying himself to go into the village to retrieve ye.”

“Is that where he thought I was?”

Nodding, Mary grabbed my hand and pulled me along behind her.

“Aye, when ye dinna come to dinner, I told him ye’d left to help Mae.”

“Why is he angry then? I often do go to help her.”

Thank God for Mary. She’d thought of the only excuse he would believe.

“I doona know, lass. Ye’ve not done so since Henry arrived. I believe he thought it rude of ye to leave him. Doona worry. Just doona leave Henry’s side once ye enter the castle. Yer father willna yell at ye in front of him.”

Reaching to adjust my hair, I pulled at Mary’s hand so she would slow down.

“How did ye know where I was?”

“I know what day it is, lass. I suspected ye might have escaped to yer spell room to spend the day alone.”

Hugging me tight, Mary pulled away and pointed toward the castle. “Best get inside. Henry was in the sitting room with Alasdair when I last saw him.”

H enry wasn’t inside the sitting room when I entered. Neither was Alasdair. Only Father remained.

“Ah. Ye’ve decided to return. Come, lass. I wish to speak to ye.”

“I’m sorry, Father. I wouldna have gone into the village unless I were truly needed.”

Lies came too easily to me when speaking to Father.

He held up a hand to stop me. “’Tis not ye that I worry about. What will Mae do when ye leave here?”

“Leave? What do ye mean?”

Father motioned to the seat across from him. Almost every serious conversation I’d ever had with him had taken place in this room with us sitting opposite each other in just the same way.

“Doona be daft, lass. One way or another, ’tis time for ye to make a decision regarding Henry. He’s shown far more patience with ye than I would have. Six weeks is a long time to make him wait.”

“I doona think he’s in any hurry, Father. He rarely speaks of it.”

Father grunted and crossed his arms.

“As I said, the lad is patient. Ye care for him. I can see that ye do. Can ye think of one reason ye shouldna marry him?”

My only reason was now living centuries ahead of me.

“One day I may wish to marry him. I am not ready to leave here yet. I wish to see wee Eoin grow.”

I said nothing of the new babe. While Elspeth would be forced to tell Alasdair soon, news of the babe was still our secret.

“Morna.” Father’s voice was stern, cold, distant. “Eoin will grow up fine without ye. ’Tis generous of me to allow ye to pick yer husband at all. ’Tis not up to ye to decide how long ye reside in my home.”

I rarely allowed Father’s words to hurt me, but with my heart still sore from learning Jerry truly had returned home, the protective wall I normally kept up between me and my father crumbled.

It was natural for daughters to marry and leave their father’s home. I only wanted him to be more saddened at the thought of me leaving. Even if I wasn’t truly his, had our years together not bonded him to me in some way that made him love me?

“Are ye so eager to see me gone from here? Will ye not miss me at all?”

Father’s eyes softened in the same way they always did when he played with Eoin.

“O’course I’ll miss ye.” He paused and sighed then opened his arms and waved me toward him. “Come and sit on my knee.”

I stared back at him blankly. Never in my life had my father held me. Slowly, I stood and walked toward him and lowered myself onto his lap. It felt strange and foreign, and for some reason I couldn’t explain, it made me want to cry.

“I’ve not always treated ye as I should. I know ye wonder if I care for ye as I do Alasdair. I do, lass. I love ye so much it pains me. Do ye know how much ye remind me of yer mother? Every time I look at ye, I see her. As similar as ye are in personality, I canna believe that ye never knew her.

“No matter how things ended between us, yer mother was the love of my life. If I’ve distanced myself from ye, ’tis only to prevent the pain I feel when I see her reflected in ye.

Ye must wed not because I doona want ye here, but because I must ensure that ye will always be cared for—even after I’m gone. ”

I couldn’t imagine a world without him. I feared so many things about my future, but losing my father had never been one of them. He was so strong, so forceful. Although I knew it foolish, it was truly the first time losing him had crossed my mind.

Unable to stop myself, I relaxed against his chest and allowed his arms to wrap around me.

He held me there until I fell asleep. I stirred when he stood but feigned sleep when I realized what he was doing. My father—my cold, often-cruel, complicated father—was carrying me to my room as if I were a small child.

The climb up the stairs was easy for him, and he kissed my forehead as he tucked me beneath the blankets. He paused in the doorway as he left, turning back over his shoulder to whisper, “I love you” in Gaelic.

I was wide awake now—shaking and sobbing beneath the covers. It should’ve been healing for my father to confess such feelings to me after years of wanting to hear such words. Instead, it terrified me.

It felt so very much like goodbye.