Page 27 of The Highlander’s Enchanted Healer (Spellbound Hearts #2)

My own scream woke me. I bolted upright, soaked in sweat, and glanced down at my hands. I exhaled a sigh of relief to see that they were not covered in Ross’s blood, nor was I on a battlefield helplessly holding him as he bled to death because I was not a true healer.

I glanced out the window, and confusion hit me at the sight of daylight streaming into my bedchamber.

Last I remembered, I’d lain down, exhausted from striding, worrying, and trying to think how to persuade Ross not to go to battle, but that was before supper.

It was daylight now. Had I slept through supper?

I scrambled off the bed to find my slippers when an idea came to me.

Maybe I could speak to Ross, tell him I’d had a bad dream, a premonition, that he should wait to go to battle and hopefully convince him that it was unwise to go.

Grabbing my shoes, I shoved them on my feet, and raced out my bedchamber door, not even bothering to shut it behind me, and I ran down the passage toward Ross’s bedchamber, hoping to catch him there.

To my surprise, Alba’s door was open. I started to slow but thought better of it, because I did not want to miss possibly catching Ross in his room, but when Alba called my name, I was so surprised I stopped, then turned immediately and made my way to her doorway.

She was sitting on the floor holding Bolt with tears streaming down her face. I raced to her and dropped to my knees. “Alba, what’s the matter?”

“Gone,” she said simply, sniffing. Fear hit me in the gut.

“Ross?” I asked, praying I was wrong.

“Aye. Gone.”

“Nay,” I said, shaking my head. My stomach was in knots, and my legs were trembling as I rose. “He’s to depart tonight!” I said, rushing from the room with Alba on my heels. As I rushed down the stairs, my anxiety grew, and as we rounded the corner to the outer door, I spotted Isla.

“Isla!” I called out.

She turned toward me, smiling, and rushed toward us. “Alba, how is Bolt?” she asked, addressing Alba as I had asked the clanspeople to do as well.

Alba shook her head vigorously, which I was certain was her way of letting Isla know there were other more pressing matters. My impatience and worry exploded. “Isla, did the men already ride out for battle?”

“Aye, at dawn this morning.”

“Why?” I cried out, drawing startled stares from them both.

“There’s a storm brewing,” Isla said, pointing to the sky. “Laird Campbell wanted to get ahead of it.”

I glared up at the sky, which was indeed gathering clouds and darkening.

The rays of sunshine that had streamed in my window not long ago were nearly gone.

When I started to glance toward Isla once more, I spotted Lennox, one of the Campbell warriors, coming into the inner courtyard. “Lennox!” I bellowed.

He swung toward me. “Aye, my lady?”

“We need to send a rider to Ross,” I called across the courtyard, my worry rising and making speaking hard. I stopped in front of him, panting.

“Why?”

“I had a terrible dream that he died in battle,” I blurted, praying Lennox took heed in dreams.

“Even if I was inclined to do so,” he said, giving me a gentle look, “which I’m nae, by the by, as I do nae put stock in dreams, the rider would nae ever reach them before battle. They have a full day’s start on a rider, and Ross pushes the men fast and hard.”

To my horror, tears sprang to my eyes and spilled over onto my cheeks to run hot trails down my skin and drip off my chin. I swiped at my tears as Isla and Alba reached us. Isla put her arm around me, and Alba studied me with a look of curiosity.

Lennox frowned, clearly confused by my show of emotion. “Do nae fash yerself, lass. Ross can nae die.”

“Do nae be a fool,” I snapped, thinking upon my da, my brother, and my uncle. “Ross is a man like all others, made of flesh and bone in a body that is only granted breath for so many moons. By the gods, he can die.” The thought of it made my chest ache so fiercely I had to rub at it.

“I’m sorry, lass. ’Twas unthinking of me.”

I waved a dismissive hand at Lennox. “Nay, I’m just… I’m just—” What was I? I was not falling for Ross, I’d fallen. Hard. Fast. And foolishly. I sucked in a sharp breath at the realization. “I’m sorry I stopped ye. I’m certain ye have duties to tend to.”

“I do, but if ye need me to—”

“Nay,” I assured him, preferring as few witnesses as possible to my distress. “Go tend to the things ye need to.”

“Ye like Laird Campbell,” Isla crowed once Lennox disappeared into the castle. She clapped her hands while grinning before I could respond. “He likes ye, too! Mayhap, ye will be our new lady finally!”

I shook my head, not daring to allow myself to think such things when I knew the deceit that lay between us and the unanswered questions. I needed a distraction from my worry, and I knew just the one. I turned to Alba. “Roger is coming here today.”

I did not need to wait to see if my news would affect Alba. She inhaled a sharp breath, and her hand fluttered to her neck. “’Tis time, Alba,” I said gently, “to allow yerself to live again. I ken ye’re scairt, but Roger has waited for ye. He loves ye.” Alba’s cheeks pinked.

“Aye, lass,” Isla said, her tone encouraging. “He’d nae keep coming here to see ye if he did nae. For one, ye look a fright. And for another, ye smell awful.”

Alba burst out laughing. It was a lyrical sound that filled me with warmth and happiness.

“Why do ye nae give Bolt to Isla to watch and let us go to the loch and bathe,” I suggested.

“And then, if ye’ll allow me, I’ll brush yer hair for ye so that it will be shiny and flowing for Roger.

” That would also give me the perfect reason to touch Alba, which I needed to do to finally discover what happened in the church the day my family was killed.

When Alba nodded, a breath I didn’t even realize I’d been holding rushed from my lungs.

By the time we reached Alba’s bedchamber after we both washed in the loch, Alba had been smiling nearly the entire time.

She had even spoken and entire sentence, saying “This water is cold!” She sat on the bed now and turned her back to me to allow me to brush her hair.

I placed my hand on her shoulder, to hold her steady, and then I focused my thoughts on sifting through hers.

I love Roger. I’m scairt. My skin feels so good. I want to talk. Bolt is so cute.

There were so many. It was as if her mind had just awoken and all the thoughts that had been dormant about life had been let out to run free.

I needed to guide her thoughts to the day of the wedding.

“Alba,” I said, gentle as I could. “I do nae want to stir up painful memories for ye, but I think recalling things may help ye to release the fear.” She nodded, so I continued.

“I’ve always heard the attack upon ye and yer parents was in retaliation for yer family poisoning and killing the Gordon laird, his son ye were to wed, and the laird’s uncle. ”

She shook her head so hard, I had to quit brushing her hair, but I left my hand upon her shoulder as her thoughts flooded my head.

It’s a lie! Da did nae poison anyone! It was Father James! I saw him! I saw the priest empty a vial into the wine.

I gasped aloud and had to clench my teeth against a cry of rage.

Why did I nae say something to Da or Laird Gordon? Why am I so stupid?

Suddenly, Alba clutched her head and began to rock back and forth and moan.

If I had asked what the vial was for, if I had spoken out, the Gordons would be alive. My parents would be alive, and I…I…I would nae fear men. To be touched. To live.

I couldn’t move for a moment. Shock, rage, and anguish locked me in place.

Father James had put something in the wine my family had drunk in the church.

Da’s priest, our family priest, had killed my family?

But why? Had he done so on his own? I couldn’t see why he would.

There wasn’t any gain for him to do so. Why would a priest kill his laird?

My heart pounded and my blood rushed through my veins. Vengeance? Desperation? Did he have a secret to hide? Was someone threatening him?

A flash of a memory came to me suddenly.

Father James and my stepmama fighting in the sanctuary.

I’d come upon them when I’d gone to say a prayer for good travels for my da, my brother, and uncle the next day.

I’d left, and as far as I knew, neither the priest nor my stepmama had seen me, and I had nae given it a second thought.

Until now. Every instinct I possessed told me that my stepmama was responsible for the priest poisoning my family, and the only reason I could think she’d do that was so that Ramsey would be laird.

I clenched my teeth on the need to bellow.

Had Ramsey known? I thought of the lies I had discovered about Ramsey, and bile rose in my throat.

I was almost certain he must have known, but I needed to hear his thoughts, to be totally certain.

He had been a brother to me. He had, I thought, watched out for me, protected me, loved me as a sister.

Alba’s sobs broke through my own anguish, and I looked to her to see tears streaming down her face. “’Tis nae yer fault,” I said as I hugged her.

She allowed me to do so and wrapped her arms around me, clinging to me as she sobbed. We stayed that way for a long stretch, until my shoulder was soaked through with her tears. Her sobs slowly started to subside and then whimpered into nothingness.

She pulled away from me and looked at me with her tear-reddened gaze. Then, with a raspy voice, she began to speak, telling me out loud of the things I had read in her mind.

When she was finished, I said, “Ye were trusting of a priest, who ye should have been able to trust. This is nae yer fault. It was nae ever yer fault. If I had been ye, if I had been in yer place, I’d likely have done the verra same.”

She swiped at her cheeks and took a deep ragged breath. “I should have said something after. When they died. But I did nae think… I could nae imagine a priest would kill people.”

“I imagine someone had something over Father James.”

She frowned, and I knew my mistake immediately. “How do ye ken the priest’s name?” she asked.

I shrugged, though my heart had tripled in beat. “I must have heard it in all the talk.”

“Oh, aye,” she mumbled, but she didn’t look convinced.

This ruse was over. I wanted it to be. I did nae want a part of it any longer.

I wanted Ross. His family had not poisoned mine.

He was not duplicitous or hiding secrets as I was.

He was honest and good, and he would hate me.

I had to tell him the truth. And then, if he wished to ferret the truth from Ramsey’s mind, he could use me and my wretched gift.

I would try to do what I could to atone for what I had done.

I sent a prayer to the gods that Ross did not fall in battle, that he and his men came back safe. If they did not, I was the one responsible for it. The notion sickened me. I jumped up suddenly, clutching at my stomach. “I do nae feel well, Alba,” I blurted. “I need to go lie down.”

I did not even wait for her to reply. I ran out of her bedchamber, down the passageway to mine, and the moment I was alone, I burst into tears, then fell to my knees and lost my accounts.

I retched until I could not retch anymore.

My head pounded when I was done, and I was drenched in sweat.

I wished I’d never asked for the ability to read minds.

All I had done with it was possibly send an innocent man and his clansmen to their deaths.

And I loved that man. I knew it now. I had fallen for him.

And when he returned, I’d tell him everything and likely lose him. There was no other choice.