Breath of Yesterday (The Curse Series) (20 page)

“My mother was still very young. She had just been married to my father. He was a shepherd working for the Stuarts, just as I am now. Those were great big flocks of sheep, and Father was gone a lot. One day, Grant Stuart, the son of the old laird, came to our cottage. He wanted to pick up two lambs that my father had killed for him.”

Ross turned away from me and continued gathering berries. It seemed he had lived through—a thousand times over—the story he was about to tell me.

“Mother was alone. She was unable to fight him off. Nobody stopped him from taking whatever he desired. And he must have enjoyed her pain, too, because he kept coming back for more—over and over. Father confronted Grant and threatened to take it to the old laird should he ever dare to come near his wife again. But that dirty, evil man just laughed and commanded his men to cut Father’s throat should he cause any more trouble. Then he defiled Mother right before Father’s very eyes. He planted his evil seed in Mother’s womb. When he was done, he had his men beat Father almost to death. Since that day, Father has been blind in one eye. If only they had taken both of his eyes, he wouldn’t have had to witness the devil’s seed growing inside his wife’s belly. She gave birth to twins, Duncan and Dougal. Without regard for the disgrace and dishonor he brought upon his wife, Una, who had given birth to his legitimate son and heir only months before, Grant sent for the boys, had them brought to Galthair, and recognized them as his own.”

The skin on his hands was stained from the dark juice of the juniper berries he was dropping in the basket.

“It took almost ten years for my mother to tolerate the touch of a man again. So I guess I should be grateful that I was even born at all.”

He picked up the basket and went deeper into the thorny underbrush. I followed, lifting the hem of my dress so it wouldn’t get caught in the brambles. This story—his story—was truly awful. I could not believe that people were capable of such brutality.

“Why would you even stay with them, work with them? Don’t you have every reason in the world to hate them?” I called after him.

Ross stopped and turned around. The anger and hurt on his face had turned into grim determination. He came closer and stopped only a few inches short of me.

“Hate them? Maybe—but I hate my father more!” he hissed through gritted teeth. His breath, so close to my ear, made my skin crawl.

“I will not be the kind of man who accepts a dagger at his throat while his woman is being violated. I will never stand idly by while my son is being beaten to a pulp and writhing in pain. One day, Samantha, I’m going to stand on the other side. On the winners’ side!”

I took a step back and pulled the shawl closer around my body. I felt cold, despite the sunny day.

“I wonder what side your mother would prefer to see you on?” I snapped, and received a snarky grin in reply.

“My mother’s dead. She killed herself when I was only seven days old. Do you want to know why?”

No, I did not. I wanted to leave him and his horrible story behind, but he gruffly grabbed my arm.

“She killed herself because Grant Stuart sent her a birthday gift for me. In it was the dagger that they had held to my father’s throat so many years before, and a letter. He wrote that he would stop by soon to congratulate her in person. And before Father could take the dagger away from her, she used it to end her own life.”

He pulled the dagger from his belt and held it under my nose.

I felt dizzy. I recognized the intricacies of its ornaments, knew it from my hallucinations. This was not only the dagger that had taken his mother’s life, but it would bring death to Ross, too. I tore away from him, stumbling backward.

“Leave me!” I shrieked. I had to put some distance between him and me, as I was afraid I would plunge the knife’s blade deep into his chest like I had seen in my vision. “Put the knife away, Ross!” I begged.

As quickly as he had pulled it out, he made the dagger disappear inside its leather sheath and raised his hands.

“Aye,
tha mi duilich,
” he apologized. “I didn’t want to frighten you. Well, I think we have gathered enough berries. Let’s return to the castle and see if we can exchange the berries for some cold meats,” he suggested in an obvious effort to smooth over the unpleasant conversation we’d just had.

“Wait! I’ve got one more question, Ross,” I said. Although now that I was aware of his terrible past, I instinctively knew that he wouldn’t answer any of my actual questions. Whatever he knew, he wouldn’t share it with me. He looked at me without saying a word.

“Do you really think that the person who once squirmed in the mud before them can be the one
holding
the dagger? Isn’t that person forever damned to be the one on his knees?”

“If you’re smart, Sam, you will use the dagger that is pressed against your throat to gain the upper hand. The moment of surprise is your biggest advantage.”

C
HAPTER
25

T
he gray tower of Castle Galthair welcomed him from afar. Cathal Stuart felt relieved to be back home, even though he could report only limited success. They had neither hunted down the cattle thieves nor found the missing animals. It was surprisingly quiet in the borderlands, aside from more and more cows going missing every day.

They cantered into the castle yard, and Cathal jumped from the saddle before his horse came to a stop.

“
Fàilte,
milord!” the stable boys greeted him and took over the reins.

“Where is Nathaira? Why isn’t she here to welcome me home?” he demanded.

“Her ladyship is residing at Burragh. A messenger brought tidings that the laird had been injured, and she left right away. She thought him on his deathbed and wanted to look in on him personally,” one of the boys informed them.

Cathal nodded. Even though he urgently needed to speak with his sister, he was glad to know she was with Blair, who was without a doubt also by his father’s bedside. He was especially glad since Alasdair Buchanan, the Norseman, was now dismounting beside him.

“Cathal, a word, please?” Alasdair called, asking him to approach.

“What is it
, mo charaid
?”

“I wanted to talk with you concerning a very important and personal matter,” Alasdair explained, stroking his beard.

Cathal suppressed the urge to blurt out a curse word and instead nodded casually. He prompted the blond warrior to accompany him as he traversed the courtyard and walked toward the Great Hall. He had a pretty good idea of what his liegeman wanted to talk to him about. After all, it wasn’t an accident that he had assigned him to securing the borderlands in the farthest corners of his land.

Cathal Stuart knew about the love affair between Alasdair and his beautiful sister, but no matter how much he loved Nathaira, he could not allow himself to take her romantic feelings into account where the well-being of his clan was concerned. His clan needed a strong bond with the McLeans to ensure lasting peace.

It was for this reason that she would face her responsibilities and wed his best friend and important ally, Blair McLean, in the very near future. As far as he was concerned, it was best for Alasdair to not see his sister beforehand.

“So, what is it, Buchanan?” Cathal asked when they were walking side by side.

“Well, it’s something of the gravest importance to me, and I would prefer not to discuss it in passing. I would like to present myself to you formally—if you will allow me,” Alasdair explained.

“Of course. I suggest you come to my study tomorrow, and we’ll share a cup of beer. Then you can present me this matter in detail.”

Cathal was glad to delay the meeting, for he had more pressing business to attend to. He needed to gather the most influential men of his clan so he could reassure and appease them before the voices of those questioning his leadership grew ever louder.

“Alasdair, you could do me a service and keep your eyes and ears open for me. I need to know how many of my men are still loyal to me—and who might stab me in the back,” he asked of his Nordic liegeman. He couldn’t be sure that Alasdair himself wouldn’t turn against him if he denied him Nathaira’s hand in marriage, but for as long as Alasdair was unaware of this, Cathal could count on his loyalty.

“Aye, I understand. I will keep an ear to the ground.”

With that, Cathal exited the Great Hall and walked up the stairs to his chambers, passing his ancestors’ portraits on the wall. He could feel the Norseman’s eyes on his back the entire time.

He slammed the door shut behind him and, exhausted, slumped down into one of his armchairs. These last few days had been hard and weren’t exactly crowned with success. As he had done so many times before, he cursed his late father for lacking vision and foresight. How could Grant not have known how much pressure he was putting on his son? Hadn’t he known that Cathal’s authority would stand on shaky ground?

Everything would be just fine if it hadn’t been for those cattle raids. It was as if the Camerons knew exactly what damage they were inflicting upon him. This pack of lowlifes couldn’t think of a more desirable outcome than for their long-term enemies to tear themselves to shreds from within.

Cathal slipped off his boots. Today, instead of setting out for Burragh, he would drown his anger in whiskey. And tomorrow he would arrange for his sister’s engagement. Only it wouldn’t be to the man who’d be proposing to her.

Alasdair was content: Tomorrow he would propose to Nathaira. He had been wanting to ask for her hand in marriage ever since his first assignment in the borderlands, but he hadn’t been able to get near her. He had been told she was ill and unable to leave her chambers. And not long afterward, Cathal had sent him far away on an urgent mission. Since that time, his desire for this raven-haired beauty had grown every day. To the outside world, she always acted like a tough, strong-minded lady who was used to giving orders. But he knew her to be very different. When she lay in his loving, protecting arms, she allowed herself to be vulnerable.

His eyes wandered across the castle yard, full of yearning while searching for his beloved’s face behind every window. He had no luck. All he noticed was Dougal standing with a squad of sentries. Alasdair strolled over to them. Perhaps they could tell him where he might find his beloved.

“Cannot trust his protection any longer. There are men who are better suited.…” He caught Dougal’s last words just as he joined the group.

The sentries saluted, and Dougal nodded in Alasdair’s direction. “Be that as it may, go think about what I told you.” He finished his speech and stepped up to the Norseman.

“Alasdair,
mo charaid
. It’s great to be home after all this time, is it not?” he asked.

Both men towered over the rest of the men by almost a head. They had fought many a mock fight against each other with their broadswords, and they knew about each other’s skills and physical strength.

Alasdair nodded.

“Three months is a long time,” he agreed.

“Especially since it was such a
wasted
time.” Dougal poked the fire. “Not a single Cameron was caught in the act, and yet many more cows were lost. It is only thanks to my brother that we have at least some information as to the cattle.”

“We have information? What kind of information?” Alasdair asked in surprise.

Dougal looked over his shoulder at the sentries who were still standing together and sharing a tankard of beer. He put his hand on his shoulder and led him a short distance away.

“Oh, you know, this Cameron woman. Maybe you didn’t notice her when you met up with us at the campsite. After all, night had already fallen, and your wineskin was keeping us well entertained. Anyway, Cathal sent her away with Blair the next morning. She was to help take care of Fingal. If you ask me, I would rather die a painful death than allow a wench like her to look after me.”

Alasdair vaguely remembered a woman he had seen that morning.

“We would have our cattle back by now if Cathal had only allowed Duncan to question her,” Dougal declared.

Alasdair nodded. He had once witnessed the twins “questioning”
a man. Not a pretty sight, as far as he recalled, but it had been effective.

“Just imagine—we could have returned home with all our stolen cattle! It would have been a day of celebration for the Stuart clan. But no, instead we’re returning empty-handed, and my brother’s prisoner is now at Burragh.”

“Why don’t you just go get her and question her now?”

“We will. As far as I’m aware, several men are setting out for Burragh tomorrow. Ross already rode with Blair, and it seems that Lady Nathaira was so worried about Fingal’s well-being that she also left for Castle Burragh yesterday.”

Alasdair pricked his ears. “Oh, is that so?” he asked.

“Aye. Do you want to join in? The McLeans have no shortage of pretty girls on offer. And after three months in the saddle, I’m sure you wouldn’t mind some fun of the female kind. What do you say, my friend?”

“Why wait until tomorrow? I’ve already got one in mind,” Alasdair mumbled, picturing how easy it would be at Castle Burragh to slip into Nathaira’s bed. Much easier than doing that here, where they would have to hide from the entire Stuart clan—until, at least, he had formally spoken to Cathal.

C
HAPTER
26

A
fter my woodland excursion, I spent the rest of the day with Nanny MacMillan, preparing ointments, hanging herbs to dry, and stocking up on bandages. Every now and then we looked in on Fingal and his wound, but the old laird was well enough to not take the old nanny’s scolding and lecturing anymore.

Right now, he was slamming shut the door to his chambers and bolting it from the inside. He had threatened to have Nanny put in chains if she kept insisting on allowing him only chicken broth and oatmeal. And that was when Nanny MacMillan fled his room, skirts billowing behind her, causing Fingal to jump from his bed and brace himself against the old lady’s return. And so, the door was closed. When he turned around, he noticed me and gave me a conspiratorial wink.

“Lassie, I almost forgot about you. That woman clearly needs a man who can tan her hide from time to time. Honestly, I think she saves all her screams and shouts for me.”

I kept my eyes firmly on the ground because the mighty clan chief stood before me wearing nothing but a shirt. Luckily his shirttails were long enough to hide all of the important parts.

“I’m sorry to disagree, milord, but I spent almost the entire day with her, and I can assure you from personal experience that she’s letting everybody else have it exactly the same way.”

“Really? Well, I always assumed it must be a sign of affection if she’s giving me a good talking to.”

I chuckled.

“I don’t think so, milord. She’s been scolding me all day today—and she doesn’t even know me,” I said, trying to disprove his affection theory.

“Or”—he raised his index finger high up in the air—“I’m right. After all, it’s not really that hard to be fond of you.”

Was he trying to tell me that he liked me?

He grinned when he saw my baffled expression.

“Samantha, dear. Don’t look at me like that. I know our families don’t exactly get along, but there are bad people everywhere.” He put on his plaid and rummaged for his belt. I grabbed it from the back of his chair and handed it to him, waiting for him to continue.

“So are good people.”

He locked eyes with me.

“Did you know the arrow probably came from a mercenary? A soldier for hire? Who do you think pays for men to destabilize our borders? Our enemies? Or perhaps the English who are afraid of another Jacobite uprising? I’m telling you like it is: I’m tired of fighting. This feud between the Stuarts and the Camerons has been a thorn in my side for a long time. An alliance among our three families would be to the benefit of everyone, don’t you think?”

My knees went soft, and my mind went into overdrive. Was this possible? Was it possible that history was being written right here and now? Payton had never breathed much about the time before Vanora’s curse, but I knew that the terrible massacre on the clan of my Cameron ancestors had something to do with an old blood feud between them and the Stuarts.

I needed air, and so I stepped over to the window and opened it. I took a deep breath, palms sweaty. This was so screwed up! I cursed my own lack of insight. Why had Payton never talked about what happened before Vanora spoke her curse?

He probably felt guilty, blamed himself, and didn’t want to hurt me by telling me that he had killed in his previous life. That he had murdered my ancestors. And now? Now it was too late. I couldn’t ask him. I didn’t know what to do, what I
could
do to save him and all those he loved. Was it even possible to save them all? How had everything started? Like this? With Fingal wanting peace?

“Lassie, are you not well?” he asked, and walked over to me. “You look pale. Here, take a sip.” He pressed his cup against my lips, and I obeyed. I was slowly getting used to the taste and the warming, soothing effect of whiskey. Age limits didn’t seem to matter much in the eighteenth century. Fingal tied the white hair on the back of his neck together and pinned the brooch to his plaid before facing me again.

“I will attain this peace—and you are going to help me,” he explained matter-of-factly, holding his hand out to me.

“Me? What…How can I possibly help you?”

He led me to the door and released me into the hallway, where Payton was already waiting for me.

“Well, Samantha, I’m going to tell you very soon. But first I need to discuss a matter with Blair,” he explained, saying good-bye.

Payton grabbed my hand as the door closed behind us.

“What does he need to discuss with Blair?” he asked, pulling me after him.

“What are we doing? Where are we going?”

He wasn’t taking me back to my room, that much I could tell.

“You’ll see. So, what does he need to discuss with Blair?”

“No idea. He thinks I can help him ensure peace between the clans. Besides, you were right. The arrows really—”

“Came from mercenaries, I know. Sean found out from a maidservant in Kilerac who is very fond of him. She told him that a group of men were drinking and celebrating in her father’s village inn, and they drunkenly bragged about getting paid for stealing. She could have sworn that their arrows were outfitted with metal tips.”

A narrow, winding staircase lay before us, and Payton grabbed me firmer by the hand so that I wouldn’t trip and fall on the uneven steps. A hatch led up to the flat roof of the castle keep, and the roof itself was surrounded by high battlements. It was the highest point in the castle, and the view was breathtaking.

“I was hoping I could show you the sunset,” Payton admitted with regret in his voice because the sun had already disappeared behind the horizon.

It was stunning all the same. The clear night sky with its millions of stars was glorious above our heads.

“It’s fantastic,” I assured him. Suddenly feeling awkward in his company, I realized how much we had in common but how little we really knew about each other. I looked up at the stars. We had found each other once before and fallen in love against all odds.

I stepped closer to the parapet, feeling his body near me even though I had my back to him. This was exactly how it had always been. Something, someone was weaving the fabric of destiny, folding my thread and Payton’s into a pattern.

“This is my favorite spot in the castle. It’s where I can think and be alone. Not many people come up here.”

I turned around self-consciously.

“Is this why you brought me here? To be…alone with me?”

Payton gave a sheepish grin as if I’d just caught him with his hand in the cookie jar.

“That, too,” he admitted and came closer. “But what I really wanted was to give you a gift. Problem is, I don’t really own much a girl would enjoy. Which is why I wanted to share my favorite spot with you. As I said…I was hoping…the sun…you know?”

I got up on tiptoes and kissed him. “It’s a wonderful gift. Thank you.”

He kissed my nose and turned me around so he could wrap his arms around me from behind.

“We might be undisturbed up here, but we’re not invisible. I don’t want to start a war just because I’m kissing the most beautiful girl in all of Scotland.”

“Dougal said I had nothing that could please a real man,” I corrected him.

He kissed the back of my neck and whispered into my ear. “Dougal is stupid. And blind on top of it.”

His hands ran across my stomach as he pulled me closer. I could feel his heart beat faster when his tongue traced the outline of my ear.

When I gasped for breath, he let out a throaty laugh that melted my insides. Then he pointed at the horizon.

“Over there, that bright spot, that’s Castle Galthair. And that shimmering line, that’s a small river indicating the border between the land of the Stuarts and the McLeans.”

“And that?” I pointed far to the north, where I noticed the dark outline of a stronghold against the starlit sky.

“Don’t you recognize it? That’s Castle Coulin—Cameron territory. Your people.”

Of course he’d expect me to recognize the castle of the Camerons—I was one of them, after all.

“Payton, I have to tell you something. I can’t stop what is about to happen from happening, but I still have to warn you.” I looked at him imploringly. I had to somehow get him to believe me. “There’s going to be an awful, awful battle. A battle that will cost many lives. I don’t know when it’s going to happen, or if I’m still going to be here.”

“A battle? What do you mean?”

“I can’t tell you, Payton. I’m afraid of what might happen.…”

“Afraid? Of what?”

“My world…I…the future…I might jeopardize everything, and I can’t risk it. I don’t belong here, but if my world stops to exist in the future because…,” I said, starting to stammer again, “well, if I intervene and stop things from happening…then how can I ever get back? How can I ever save you?”

“Calm down, Sam. I don’t understand what you’re telling me, but I do trust you.”

Payton was trying to comfort me, but he only increased my feelings of shame and guilt. I knew what was about to happen to him and his family, and yet I was doing nothing to stop it. He shouldn’t trust me! I was such a coward and liar! But although I knew, I just could not act against my conviction. I turned around.

“Promise me something,” I said, hoping to lessen those awful feelings of guilt and help him accept his fate. “Promise me that you’ll take care of yourself, that you won’t blame yourself for things that cannot be changed. I can tell you this much: You will achieve forgiveness in the future when you least expect it, and you will get your chance to make amends. Promise me that you won’t lose hope.” I ran my fingers over his cheek and the fresh scar on his chin. “It will change you, it will take away your smile, it will make your soul freeze…but it won’t break you, Payton.
I
will save you. Don’t ever forget that.”

I touched his lips and kissed him very gently. His kiss tasted salty. “I love the man you will become, Payton, but I wish I had the courage and strength to spare you this fate.” I sobbed against his chest, and he stroked my back as my tears flowed freely onto his shirt.

“Sam. I’m not afraid of my fate. It has led you to me, and—whatever it may have in store for me—I accept it willingly as the price to pay for your love.”

“I just hope you won’t wake up one day and think that the price was too high,” I whispered.

The warmth of his body soothed my aching soul, and his scent stirred in me an urgent desire to be close, to be intimate.

“Let’s go inside. It’s getting cold, and you’re shivering,” Payton determined, and pointed at the hatch. He let me go first and helped me on the way down. Then he escorted me back to the section of the castle where all the bedchambers were. We turned a corner, and Payton peered around before opening a door and quickly pulling me into the dark room with him.

“Your chambers,” I said without hesitation. I didn’t need to ask because I recognized the room even in the pale moonlight, with its green tapestries barely contrasting against the backdrop of the bare stone walls. I had already spent a night in here. In a different century, sure, but with the same man by my side.

“Yes…but how…?”

“A wild guess,” I replied, because I felt that any further explanation would be too hard to take in. “Why did you bring me here?” My heart beat faster, and I couldn’t help but glance over at the ebony-colored bed, the heavy brown bed curtains, the wide, straw-filled mattress…

Payton looked past me, seemingly nervous.

“I’ve spent all day thinking about you.”

He looked at me, no longer trying to hide the fire in his eyes. “I’ve been trying to picture what it would be like…”

He walked over to the table and lit a candle. Then another, and another. I held my breath. Slowly he walked toward me, coming closer, closer. I retreated until I felt the door against my back. His hands took mine and lifted them above my head. He held them prisoner while caressing my ears with his lips.

“What it would be like to do this.” He leaned down and gently kissed me. “Or maybe this.” He ran his hands down my arms, then along my neck and down to the top of my breasts, which were vaguely discernable under my low neckline. Then he wrapped an arm around my waist and loosened the thin leather belt that held my dress.

I came undone, unable to pull away from his tender, seductive moves. But then again, I didn’t want to. I wanted his hands against my skin, to experience his presence with all of my senses and fall into the safety of his love.

“Is this what you had in mind?”

I caressed his chest and unpinned the brooch holding his plaid together. I looked up at him, happy, smiling—an invitation for another kiss. I didn’t need to ask twice, and while he was very gentle, I felt his hunger, his rising desire.

“Sam?” he asked against my lips, eyes tightly pressed together. “Are you sure?”

Every flexed muscle told of his self-control as he awaited my reply.

“I love you, Payton. Please, don’t stop now.” I let my hands slide under his shirt, enjoying the pleasurable goose bumps.

“
Mo luaidh,
you’re driving me crazy,” he whispered hoarsely, then lifted me up into his arms and carried me to the bed.

When he carelessly threw his shirt to the floor, I very briefly wondered who was driving whom crazy.

Later that night we held each other in a tight embrace, and Payton played with my hair. He wrapped a strand of it around his finger while looking at me with so much love.

“I never thought it could be that wonderful with such a skinny woman,” he said, caressing the back of my neck.

“What?” I sat up and pulled the cover to my chin.

“Nothing, my sweet Sam. You are beautiful.”

He pulled the cover off me and gently forced me back onto the mattress. Then he rolled himself on top of me. “I feel so strong when I’m with you. You’re so delicate, so fragile. You make me want to protect you—and feed you.”

He kissed me, and I couldn’t help a smile. Yep, size zero was just a modern fad. In the eighteenth century,
more
really was more.

“Victoria Beckham would be appalled to hear you say that.” I giggled, playfully biting his lip.

“Victoria who? Should I get us something to eat?” he asked, and was about to get up.