Breath of Yesterday (The Curse Series) (22 page)

A giant inkblot dripped onto the page.

“Dammit!” I put the tip of the quill to paper, clumsily scratching over the page. Blots, smudges, illegible handwriting…but I eventually managed to get the words of forgiveness out and onto paper. With every minute that passed, I grew more anxious that Fingal might return and catch me red-handed at his desk. So I signed the letter and, while waiting for the ink to dry, I tried to rearrange everything in the exact way I had found it. When I heard steps outside, I quickly folded the page and pushed it into my corselet at the same instant the door opened.

My attempt at leaning against the windowsill in as low-key a manner as possible failed miserably when I realized who was standing in the doorway. My pulse quickened, and the little hairs on the back of my neck stood up.

C
HAPTER
29

W
hen the others passed the stone bridge in front of her, Nathaira finally had a moment to study the prisoner out of the corner of her eye. The girl seemed baffled and not exactly overjoyed about leaving McLean territory. The sharp winds had brought a good color to her cheeks, but Nathaira found her to be quite plain. Still, if Alasdair had spoken the truth the night before, then one of the McLean men must have taken a liking to her.

Or perhaps it was Ross, the young upstart, for he had been trying to make a name for himself for the longest time, always trying to keep up with his older half brothers. At any rate, as he sat on his horse with the Cameron wench in front of him, the smug and satisfied expression on his face seemed to imply as much.

Even Duncan and Dougal, the twin brothers, certainly seemed pleased with themselves, and only Blair riding beside her acted as detached and aloof as he always did. Nathaira wondered what was so special about this Cameron woman that she was that important to the twins. What were they up to? One thing for sure was that she would need to keep an eye on that lass.

Dark storm clouds gathered above the mountains to the east. The wind picked up and blew strands of shiny black hair from her face. Nathaira took a deep breath. She loved the wind. It was brash and wild and free, just like she always wanted to be. It also had enormous unseen strengths at its disposal.

Nathaira let go of the reins and opened her arms. Her cloak billowed behind her, almost seeming like it wanted to raise her up and give her wings.

Again she looked at the mysterious woman who was pulling her shawl tighter in the icy breeze.

Earlier, Nathaira had fetched the prisoner on Fingal’s orders. She was to give her a chance to collect her belongings before leaving.

Fingal had been livid about having to give in to the twin brothers’ demands regarding the Cameron woman, but she was still the Stuarts’ prisoner and not the McLeans’.

Still, or so Fingal had said, he was eager to discuss his claim to the girl with Cathal. Except Cathal hadn’t been able to make today’s journey due to new incidents at the border, and Fingal had had to admit a temporary defeat.

Nathaira scowled. Had the old man taken a liking to that wisp of a girl? Her suspicions were fueled when he had insisted that Blair accompany the prisoner and ensure her safety until he could come to an agreement with Cathal.

Nathaira stuck out her chin and straightened when she caught up to the men. She was sick of worrying about that skinny, unimportant wallflower. Instead, she wanted to find out more about the situation on the Stuarts’ front lines. She had overheard some voices wanting to see Cathal replaced as clan chief, with Duncan taking his place. And those voices needed to be silenced! Only Cathal was the rightful clan chief and heir. All of her love and affection was for him.

Never in her life had there been another person she had respected and trusted—and to whom she meant something.

Her stepmother, Una, had hated her and made sure she was aware of this every day of her life, until she was left with no choice but to poison that wicked woman who’d never been a mother to her. Not a single day went by that Nathaira regretted what she had done.

And her father, the mighty Grant Stuart, a despicable demon who had violated so many women: her own mother, countless maidservants, and of course Duncan and Dougal’s mother. She hadn’t dared kill him, but she was glad when he died.

Only Cathal, her brother—who to this day did not know that they did not share the same mother—had always stood by her. He had saved her many a time from the bitter Una’s blows. And for that, she loved him. Which was why it was imperative for him to stay clan chief: She couldn’t bear to submit to someone else’s powers and abuse ever again. She would sacrifice anything and everything for Cathal.

Her thoughts wandered to Alasdair, the love of her life, whose love and child she had already sacrificed. Now she had nothing left to lose.

Night had fallen when Payton and Kyle returned after a long day of working on the pasture fence. They had been standing in mud and dirt up to their knees while digging holes for new fence posts and then hammering them in. Several miles of fence remained to be built around the newly cleared woodlands, so that they could drive the cattle here from their summer pasture before the fall of winter. They had never needed fences before, but it seemed the most sensible thing to do after all the trouble they’d experienced in previous years.

Kyle was whining as they entered the castle yard through the main gate.

“My hands are all blisters! I won’t be able to hold as much as a spoon tomorrow.”

Payton looked down at the calluses on his own hands, and he had to agree. Driving the rough-cut wooden stakes into the earth had been hard work. He blushed ever so slightly when he pictured how he would bring Sam to affectionately care for him and his aching hands.

“Say, have the Stuarts left?” Kyle’s question startled him out of his daydreams.

“What did you say?”

“I’ve been looking forward to a nice big feast at the end of a long day, but it would appear that the Stuarts have left. Which means that Father will only spring for some fried herring for supper,” Kyle grumbled.

Payton took a good look around. Indeed, he didn’t even see the wolfhounds that had been monopolizing the castle yard these past few days.

Their boots left muddy prints on the stone floor as they entered the Great Hall. Everything was quiet in here, too. Only two male servants and the blacksmith’s young apprentice were sitting together and playing a game of cards. They looked up briefly when the two brothers entered but, after greeting them, turned back to their game.

Payton and Kyle had missed supper, so it was no surprise that all the guests would have by now withdrawn to their chambers for the night. The hall was cold and drafty, and even Payton shivered from the cold, wet mud still sticking to his lower legs.

He said a regretful good-bye to the idea of letting Sam massage him to sleep. While he briefly considered paying her a visit in her bedchambers, he decided against it. In his current sorry state of filth, he wouldn’t make much of a favorable impression on any woman. Not even if he brought her the gift he had arranged for her in his chambers.

“Well, there’s no way I’m going to bed hungry!” Kyle griped as he headed for the arch door leading to the kitchen. Shrugging, Payton followed his younger brother.

The kitchen was warm and cozy, and Kyle helped himself from the loaf of bread, the butter churn, and the honey jar. Then he lifted every lid of every pot in search of extra delicacies. When he reached the beef and vegetable stew, he nodded, ladling a generous helping into a wooden bowl. He handed it over to Payton, who in the meantime had found a warm, comfortable spot on the wooden bench in the corner.

Dish upon dish started piling up on Kyle’s plate, until he looked sufficiently satisfied and sat down with his brother. Payton raised his eyebrows and grinned at all the food.

“What? I’m still growing,” Kyle defended himself, dipping a chunk of bread into his stew.

“Kyle, you’ve already outgrown Father by several inches. If you keep eating like this, you’re only going to grow sideways.”

“Amadáin!”
Kyle’s only reply was the curse word and a well-aimed kick against Payton’s shin under the table.

They ate their stew in silence, and it was only when Payton got up to get a cup of beer that Kyle asked, “Why did you consort with Samantha?”

Payton let the dark ale flow from the barrel directly into his cup.

“What do you mean?” He tried to evade the question.

“Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. I’ve got eyes, you know.”

“Well, then you don’t need to ask.”

Payton regretted having poured himself all that beer, because now he would have to stay and answer all of Kyle’s questions until the cup was empty. He took a big gulp.

“She’s a pretty girl,” Kyle noted simply.

“Aye.”

“And she smells nice,” Kyle went on.

Payton lifted his head. “How do you know?”

Kyle smirked. “Wrong answer. ‘I wouldn’t know’ would have been the correct answer. Besides, you should have made more of an effort to disguise the jealousy in your voice.”

Payton didn’t respond. He couldn’t lie to Kyle. But he also had no intention of discussing his innermost feelings with his brother like an old blabbermouth.

“I see,
mo bràthair
. Well, Sam seems very nice. If she weren’t a Cameron, I might actually take a liking to her myself.”

Payton squinted, suddenly angry. “Are my feelings wrong only because she’s a Cameron? Should I deny my feelings on account of that? Love her any less for such a ridiculous reason?”

Kyle’s eyes widened. “You
love
her?”

Payton buried his face in his hands.

“Well, what do you think?” he stammered without looking up.

Kyle slammed the flat of his hand down on the table.

“Then you’ll have to tell Father. I’m sure he wouldn’t want to bring misery upon you by sending her away with Cathal. Did you know Duncan was planning on
questioning
her? Luckily, she’s safe here with us.”

The sheer thought made Payton shudder. Cathal’s half brothers were vicious bullies who lacked any sense of honor and decency. Committing Sam to their care would surely send her to a violent death. He knew how delicate and fragile she was. A well-aimed blow to the head would easily strike her down.

“You’re right. I have to talk with Father. But it’s not that easy. Sam is…well, I don’t know how to explain it. She’s different.”

The incredulous expression on Kyle’s face prompted Payton to continue.

“She’s got the gift of second sight. She sees things. She says the Fates have sent her here to save my life.”

He knew how crazy that must sound, but there was no doubt in his heart that it was exactly as he had explained—exactly as she had told him. He had seen proof, even if that proof raised many more questions than it answered.

Kyle massaged his chin. A deep vertical line popped up on his forehead.

“You believe her. You trust her.” It wasn’t a question but a statement of fact.

“Aye, I believe her. She says something terrible is about to happen,” Payton admitted quietly.

Once again, Kyle frowned. “And you believe that, too?”

“Aye, Brother. I believe that, too.”

I didn’t get much of a chance to take a closer look at Castle Galthair. Right after we passed the gate, Ross had taken me to a room that I suspected was the guardroom. At any rate, there were four tough and sturdy-looking warriors sitting together on simple wooden benches. They looked up as I was being brought in. The stench of BO was overwhelming, and I confined myself to breathing as shallowly as possible.

Ross greeted the men and exchanged a few words in Gaelic with them before leading me to one of the free tables and setting down my travel pouch beside me.

“Stay here. As soon as I’ve taken care of the horses, I will come to get you.” He motioned at the googly-eyed brutes in the room. “They will keep an eye on you, so no funny business.”

What was happening? He wasn’t going to leave me alone with those savages, was he? I clung to his arm, begging him to take me with him. “But I can assist you,” I offered, but Ross shrugged off my hand.

“I told you I was coming to get you! Now go sit down and let me do my work.”

With that, he walked out of the guardroom. He briefly turned around in the doorway. He clicked his tongue, and Barra the dog trotted in casually. When she reached my side, she turned around twice in a circle before lying down at my feet. She looked tired, but she was alert—and she carefully watched the four men.

I gave Ross a grateful smile as he disappeared. I was sure he had left the dog here for my protection.

I pulled the pouch into my lap and was greatly relieved to feel the handle of the dagger I had once again tied to my thigh. The brief moment that Nathaira had granted me to use the chamber pot behind the folding screen had been enough to hide the knife under my dress. I was glad about this tiny safety line, especially now that the guards’ unwanted attention made my skin crawl. But the more time passed, the less notice they took of me.

I sidled up against the wall, exhausted and with my meager belongings clutched to my chest. My pathetic attempt at using the shawl to keep warm was doomed to failure when they changed guards, keeping the door open seemingly endlessly while they stood outside chatting and laughing.

My instincts told me it was already the middle of the night, but I was too anxious to think about sleep. Not so the men who had just finished their shift. They drank a few more mugs of beer before stretching out on the wooden benches. They all fell asleep, snoring.

I was under no illusion that I’d be able to sneak out undetected. Those guys would probably reach for their weapons and pounce on me at the slightest sound. I pulled my knees up to my chest and rested my head on them. That way at least I’d stay warm. The night trudged on sluggishly and seemed endless. When the first faint morning light made its appearance as a bluish sliver under the door, I had chewed off almost all of my fingernails.

Barra yelped, and her yellow eyes shone brightly when she lifted her head. I yawned, sitting up and petting her long, shaggy fur. Again she yelped, excitedly wagging her tail when the door opened. She jumped up, embracing Ross with her big front paws, but he quietly pushed her aside and motioned for me to follow him. The dog trotted off with her nose close to the ground.

My toes almost froze off as I followed Ross across the courtyard, wearing nothing but flimsy sandals. In the pale morning light, the uneven ground turned into an obstacle course. In some areas, I lifted my feet up unnecessarily high, and still I hit my toes on several protruding rocks.

I was so preoccupied with my feet that I only started wondering about where he was taking me when we stepped onto the road with the main castle gate behind us. The path down to Galthair Village, which surrounded the entire castle like an outer circle of defense, was not far, and Ross hurried on with giant strides.