Page 12 of The Highlander’s Enchanted Healer (Spellbound Hearts #2)

I could not believe I had blurted to Laird Campbell that I thought he was handsome.

I moaned in my bedchamber at this very bad turn.

That first episode with Murieall had not been a fluke after all.

I’d had the tingling in my mouth again, too, just as before.

My stomach knotted with worry. Groaning, I paced the floor of my bedchamber.

The blurted private thoughts were bad enough, dangerous enough.

I could easily give myself away when I least expected it.

But the blurting things were not the only thorn in my so-called mind-reading gift.

Gooseflesh peppered my arms as I thought back to when I had run into the servant in the hall.

I’d heard her thoughts about running out of time to get the wash done for the day, but I’d also felt her anxiousness.

It lingered with me still as a flutter in my chest.

Were risks just going to keep popping up?

The ones that had already reared their heads were bad enough.

Was what I was doing worth risking of my life, my peace of mind?

Instantly, an image of my da and Fergus as I had least seen them, riding out dressed in wedding finery, filled my mind.

My heart twisted with such pain that I gasped aloud. Yes, it was worth it.

Still, even deciding this, fear coiled within me when I considered what might happen when I read Alba’s mind again.

She was clearly gripped with painful memories.

How great would her mental pain be? Would I feel it?

Would it linger? I nibbled my lip. Did I really believe that broken woman could have poisoned my family?

The thought I’d plucked from her mind ran through my head: I’m to blame .

That could mean so many different things.

She might simply feel to blame for her parents’ deaths, given they were attacked on the way to her wedding to Roger Fergusson.

I ground my teeth. These thoughts didn’t fix my problem of blurting things of feeling physical pain and mental anguish.

I needed to concentrate. The less time I needed to linger at this castle the better.

And the sooner I could get information to aid Ramsey in defeating Laird Campbell, the sooner I could leave this place.

How was I going to manage to read minds tonight without blurting my own private thoughts?

Sweat dampened my brow and palms as worry raced through me.

I took a ragged breath, then another, until my breaths were deeper.

Still, my head ached with worry, and I pressed my fingertips to my pounding temples.

I was exhausted, but I needed to shove my tiredness aside until supper was over.

Taking another deep inhale, I let my breath out very slowly and then turned my thoughts to the problem at hand.

I did not think there was anything to be done about the transfer of one’s physical and mental pain to me.

If it got too bad, if I did not think I could take it, I would simply break contact, and if it seemed awkward, I’d have to come up with an excuse.

I nibbled on my lip as I considered the other apparent consequence of my mind reading.

I needed a way to keep my own thoughts from escaping my mouth.

As I started to pace again, worry turning my stomach, my gaze was drawn to the stand by the bed and the pitcher of wine that sat upon it.

I smiled as the most brilliant idea came to me.

This night, the wine would be my assurance against the truth-telling compulsion that had overtaken me earlier.

I would keep a full goblet in my hand all night, and I could take a long drink to prevent any unwanted truths from flying out after I read someone’s thoughts.

That did not permanently solve the problem, but it was a temporary solution for tonight.

A satisfied smugness coursed through me.

I couldn’t wait to prove my stepmama wrong.

She had argued and argued against Ramsey allowing me to come here, but in the end, Ramsey had relented.

But I hadn’t forgotten how my stepmama had said I was a foolish lass who had somehow managed a few good guesses to convince Ramsey I had powers. Who was the fool? She was.

A sharp knock at the door made me jump. “Lady Aria?” a voice called. “May I enter?”

I took a deep breath and said, “Aye, ye may.”

The door creaked open to reveal Allan Campbell.

He stood nearly as tall as his brother, with the same dark hair, but he had dark brown eyes, unlike his brother’s green ones.

That nearly black gaze swept over me from toe to head, and then he smiled.

“With all that fiery hair, ye’ll cause a stir with the lasses who have long vied for Ross’s attention. They’ll be jealous of ye.”

I prickled at his words. “I’m nae here to make anyone jealous,” I replied. “I’m here to help yer sister.”

“Aye, of course,” he said. “Though I must say, even if ye do nae mean to cause a stir, ye have.” He lowered his voice conspiratorially. “Ye’ve gotten under my brother’s skin, and that’s nae something I’ve seen in many years.”

Heat rushed to my cheeks as he motioned me to walk beside him. “I do nae ken what ye mean.”

“Ross has nae looked at a woman—truly looked—since our parents died and Alba was attacked,” Allan explained as he strode into the corridor.

I did not want my curiosity to be stirred, but it was. “Why nae?”

“The fool swore off pleasure until he has avenged our family by defeating Laird Gordon and Alba is cured.”

“Ye’re verra quick to tell yer brother’s secrets,” I bit out, not wishing to hear anything more that would make me think of Ross as less than a monster.

“’Tis nae a secret,” Allan replied. “Everyone kens it.”

Silence fell, and I turned my head to find him staring at me. “He seemed severely agitated today after his time with ye and my sister in her bedchamber.”

“That did nae have anything to do with me,” I said. “Yer sister attacked me.”

“I still think it had to do with ye,” he teased.

I felt an instant liking for Allan, which shocked and disgusted me.

I was a traitor! Here I was, consorting with my greatest enemies and finding the flirtatious, teasing Allan to be endearing.

I needed to remember that this man undoubtedly had used his sword in scrimmages with my clan to strike our men down.

“It did nae,” I said. “Yer brother has nae been agitated around me. In fact, he hardly spoke with me when he escorted me to my chamber.” I would keep to myself that I’d undoubtedly made Laird Campbell uncomfortable with my blurted confession.

Allan chuckled. “That’s how I ken ye’ve gotten to him. He’s feeling things he does nae want to, so he will strive to keep a distance from ye. Mark me.”

I was uncertain how to respond to this revelation.

Did I want Laird Campbell to be drawn to me?

It could be useful, certainly, but also dangerous if I allowed myself to be swayed by false kindness or forget for a breath what he was doing.

At the very least, I could get useful information about him from Allan.

“Why did yer brother make such a vow?” I asked as we descended the stairs.

Allan’s face grew somber. “He blames himself for what happened to our parents and Alba.”

I frowned. First Alba and now Laird Campbell. “Why would he blame himself?”

Allan inhaled a deep breath and then let it out.

“He was supposed to travel with our parents to Alba’s wedding, but Ross had been carousing the night before, and when the time came to depart, he could nae be found.

Da was furious and left without him.” Allan shrugged.

“Ross believes if he had been there, he could have protected them from the Gordon warriors who attacked.”

A strange sensation twisted in my chest—unwanted sympathy for the man I was supposed to hate. I pushed it down fiercely. “And that’s when he swore off women?”

“Aye. He vowed to become the laird our da was trying to make him into before he died.”

“What do ye mean?”

“Da was especially tough on Ross, and Ross rebelled. ’Tis why he took to carousing in the first place. Da wanted him only to train, learn the land, learn the duties, and then, when the time came, wed a suitable wife who would strengthen the clan.”

That sounded brutal. I thought about my own da and Fergus. Da had trained Fergus to be the next Gordon laird, but he’d been kind and patient about it.

“After our parents died,” Allan continued, “Ross said he realized Da had just been trying his best to prepare him, and Ross had been too stubborn, too much of a clot-heid to see the truth when it had most mattered.”

I did not care for the fact that I was impressed the man could admit he’d been wrong.

There was no part of me that wanted this emotion, yet the feeling was there.

I tried shoving it away as I had done the other feelings and concentrate on Allan.

“So he denies himself pleasure until he feels he’s atoned for his failure? ”

“Aye,” Allan said as we approached the great hall.

Near the large wooden doors, the rumble of voices trickled into the corridor, and the smell of roasting meat wafted to me.

As my stomach growled, I tried to focus on my mission, but my thoughts kept drifting to Laird Campbell and the burden of guilt he carried.

It annoyed me immensely that I should feel anything but hatred for him.

“’Tis terrible what happened to Alba,” I said, feeling I should say something, and it was, after all, horrid. She had been caught in the crosshairs of the feud by bloodthirsty, foolish men.

Allan’s face darkened. “My parents were killed and Alba violated and left for dead for something we did nae even do!

The fury in his voice struck a nerve within me, but before I could examine it, he said, “My da did nae poison anyone at that church.” His utter belief in this was obvious and matched the resoluteness of my own opposite belief.

We could not both be right, and I could not even allow myself to imagine being wrong, that Laird Campbell had not poisoned my da, Fergus, and my uncle.

Because if I was wrong, if I had been blaming the wrong family all along, who had done it?

What enemy had used that occasion to strike down my family?

Nay! I barely resisted shaking my head. It had to be the Campbells.

I recalled Ramsey’s whispered words the night before I’d left for Castle Gloom: Ye are going into a den of serpents. Do nae let any whispered lies start to sway ye. Remember yer allegiance, Sister.

And here I stood doing exactly what Ramsey had warned me not to do.

“Ye’re frowning,” Allan said, returning my attention to him.

I forced a smile. “Just thinking of my own troubles with Laird Leslie,” I lied smoothly. “Nae anything of import.”

“Well, set them aside for tonight. They will be there on the morrow.”

As we walked through the massive oak doors into the great hall, I steeled my resolve.

I would use my powers tonight to begin unraveling the truth, and soon, I would have the opportunity to read Alba’s mind again.

Whatever secrets lurked there about the day my family died, I would find them.

And if— no, when—Laird Campbell turned out to be a liar as I suspected, I would use that knowledge to destroy him, no matter how heavy his burden of guilt or how kind his brother painted him to be.

I had my own burdens to bear and my own family to avenge.