Breath of Yesterday (The Curse Series) (24 page)

C
HAPTER
31

Castle Burragh, November 1740

H
ow could you allow this to happen?”

Payton’s angry voice resounded throughout the castle. He ran his fingers through his hair, anxiously pacing back and forth. “Don’t you know what they’re going to do to her?”

“Calm down, Payton!” his father said. “I had no right to keep her here. I tried, I really did, but Dougal insisted. He was entitled to keep the girl. What could I possibly have done?”

“You could have told them to go to hell!”

“Enough!”

Fingal seemed to struggle with a guilty conscience for letting Samantha go. But at the same time, he felt no need to justify his actions before his son.

“I did what I could. Blair is at Galthair, too. He would not allow anything bad to happen to Samantha. I’ve instructed him to request that she be treated kindly. Also, as soon as my health allows, I will personally travel to Galthair
and talk with Cathal. He’s our ally, and he will not refuse my request to leave the girl to my care.”

Payton was unconvinced. If only he had gone to see her the previous day, he could have noticed Sam’s disappearance and been able to follow her.

“That won’t do, Father! I can’t wait that long. I will go myself and make sure she’s all right,” he declared.

“No, you will not! This girl is a sore subject, and you will stay out of it. I assure you that I’m the last person who would want anything bad to happen to Samantha, but I cannot risk a rift with Cathal Stuart and his entire clan. I will wait for an opportune moment and then make my request. Cathal has different issues to worry about right now. Don’t fret. Everything will be just fine.”

Payton stared at his father in disbelief, but Fingal wouldn’t budge from his stance.

“The girl is smart and has her wits about her. She can well take care of herself.”

Payton snorted. His concern for Sam drove him to pace up and down nervously. His palms—never sweaty during battle—were clammy now, and he felt the overwhelming urge to punch something.

“Go to the Great Hall and calm yourself. I will follow in a moment and discuss my further plans with you. I could do with a mug of beer.”

With that, the matter was obviously settled for Fingal, and the discussion was over.

Payton briefly considered disobeying his father and making his way to Galthair on his own, but in the end he came to accept that he probably wouldn’t succeed in such an endeavor. They’d never even let him near Sam.

With a heavy heart, he trudged into the hall and poured himself a tankard of beer.

Kyle, who was sitting at the table with his head in his hands, didn’t look up when Payton sat down beside him.

“What’s the matter with you, then?” Payton grunted.

“I’m a
man,
so she shouldn’t be permitted to slap me so hard that my ears ring,” Kyle exclaimed. And it was clear from his loud voice that his ears really were buzzing.

“Who slapped you?”

“Anna, the cook!”

“And why?”

“Ach! Only because I was play-fighting with Lou…and maybe I spilled some milk,” he finally admitted sheepishly.

Fingal, who was just entering, laughed at his youngest’s story.

“A
man
would not be play-fighting with the dog, so I think your punishment was most fitting.”

Payton felt the need to come to Kyle’s defense. “Father, I beg you, a tussle with Lou is like taking on an entire pack of those four-legged demons! You have no idea how strong that dog is. It’s fight training of a different kind!”

“Well, in that case I’m sure you’ll be able to stop all these cattle thefts,” said Fingal, turning the conversation back to what he had wanted to discuss with his sons before bringing it up with Cathal.

“Another two cows missing,” he reported, slowly running his fingers through his shoulder-length white hair.

“I’ve been thinking about a long-term solution to this problem for quite some time now. And I would like to hear your opinion on it.”

Payton nodded. He was ready to find out what his father’s intentions were with Sam.

“Many years ago, we joined forces with the Stuarts, because only together are we strong enough to fight attacks from other clans. This alliance has stood the test of time. After the old Stuart passed away, Cathal and I renewed our oath and our commitment. I’m sure your brother Blair as my heir and future clan chief will be as invested in our peace with Cathal as I have always been.”

Everything up to that point made sense. Payton and Kyle already knew all of this.

“Some people might say that this old fool is becoming sentimental in his old age, but all I really want is to leave my sons with a more peaceful world than I have ever known. This blood feud between the Stuarts and the Camerons has been a thorn in my side for a while. It often spells trouble for us, even though we McLeans don’t contribute to it in any way. It is for this reason that I have decided to enter into an alliance with the Camerons.”

Payton looked from his father to Kyle and back to his father. Setting aside the differences between the clans in such a way meant new hope for his love for Sam. On the other hand, he could easily imagine that the Stuarts wouldn’t be all too happy about the idea.

“Father, how did you picture such an alliance? Do you want us to forget about the constant cattle raids and no longer ward off any attacks?” he asked. That was exactly the outcome he was hoping for.

Fingal shook his head. “No, of course not. We have to stop stealing each other’s cattle and instead start protecting each other’s herds. This would allow us to double the number of cattle we raise on our territories, because the borderlands would be safe.”

“Sounds good. But how?”

“An alliance that is stronger than an oath!”

Fingal looked into his sons’ expectant faces. “A marital alliance. I have already talked with Blair—although he didn’t seem too excited about my suggestion.”

Kyle chuckled behind his tankard of beer. “And I’m sure Nathaira Stuart won’t be in favor of that idea, either.”

Fingal nodded. “Yes, you might be right, but since when do we allow women to have a say in such important decisions? No, Blair will do what is asked of him. He knows where his duties to his clan lie.”

“Father, if Blair should refuse to marry a Cameron, then I don’t mind doing it,” Kyle offered generously, kicking his brother under the table.

“You?” Payton laughed because he knew perfectly well what Kyle meant with his kick.

“Yes, me! Did you take a good look at those Cameron women? Each prettier than the next. I wouldn’t say no to that!”

He kept teasing Payton with a conspiratorial wink, and Fingal—who was completely oblivious to it—slapped his thigh, laughing.

“Oh, I see, so that’s the way the wind blows.”

They were interrupted when the door opened, and everyone’s head turned in the direction of the new arrivals.

In her new—albeit not yet official—status as Blair’s bride-to-be, Nathaira had joined her soon-to-be husband and her brother Cathal, entering the Great Hall behind them. It hadn’t taken much for Blair to agree to take her hand in marriage, and all that was left to do was to ask the old laird for his blessing. While Cathal wanted to take care of this as soon as possible, it was a different issue that had brought them here today.

Fingal rose to welcome the visitors. Only Cathal took a seat, while Nathaira preferred to remain standing by Blair’s side.

“Cathal,
ciamar a tha thu?”
Fingal asked.

“I am not well. There have been more raids. This time one of my shepherds was killed,” Cathal said angrily.

Nathaira’s instincts told her that Ross’s death had affected her brother deeply. He really had no idea that the dirty little traitor had been plotting against him—together with his bastard half brothers, Dougal and Duncan.

“I can’t tolerate these thefts any longer. Tonight I am going to the Camerons. We will see whether they have our cattle standing in their stable.”

Cathal had to assume as much now that the prisoner had escaped without submitting herself to their questions. He believed she had killed Ross because he’d witnessed her escape and tried to stop her. Even the most loyal of his men now demanded retaliation. Cathal would need to prove to those men that he was prepared to stand up and fight for his clan before they would stand shoulder to shoulder with him again. This was the reason Nathaira hadn’t come clean with him, even if it meant that Duncan and Dougal were getting away with their treacherous plan for now. But now that Ross was dead, she had no way of proving what she had found out.

“Aye, I understand, but unfortunately you will need to forego our support this time,” Fingal explained in a firm and steady voice.

“Athair!”
Blair interjected in stunned disbelief. “Father, what are you talking about? Of course we will lend our support to our friends and allies.”

“No, we will not!” Fingal thundered.

“Father, you can’t be serious! I will no longer bow to your orders! Cathal needs our help!”

Nathaira was irritated at Fingal’s rejection. It didn’t matter that Blair was expressing his support and taking their side: The stubborn old laird was still the one holding all the strings.

“Fingal, for everything that is sacred! You cannot refuse your support! We both swore an oath in blood!” Cathal said vehemently.

The old clan chief of the McLeans rose slowly, steadying himself on the table, and spoke with more resolve than Nathaira would have given him credit for. “Cathal,
mo charaid,
I understand why you’re angry, but there are other ways than direct confrontation. At my age, all one desires is to safeguard and preserve one’s legacy. I will not be the cause of an uprising on my land, nor am I willing to lose good strong men in battle or submit my people to random acts of revenge. No, this is a path we will never walk again. An alliance is the only way to bring you and us long-lasting peace.”

The men glared at Fingal in silence. Nobody uttered a word. Nathaira wished for the old fool to be struck down by lightning. Unable to restrain herself, she went for him.

“You wretched old coward! Just because you don’t have the balls anymore. Our entire clan will refuse to follow Cathal if he cannot ensure their safety!”

She planted herself in front of Fingal, glaring at him furiously, when suddenly Kyle grabbed her by the arm, yanked her away from his father, and slapped her across the face.

“How dare you, woman! Don’t meddle with men’s business,” he snarled, pushing her toward the exit.

He also gave Blair a reproachful look. “Maybe you should choose a Cameron for a wife, because you’ll have nothing but trouble with this one!”

Blair’s impulsive attempt at defending himself ended with him, Kyle, and Payton in a heated scuffle. It was only when Fingal’s fist came down hard on the table that the brothers came to their senses.

“
Seas!
Stop this at once!”

Nathaira noticed the warning glare that Fingal shot her before he continued. “Cathal, take your sister and go! You know my response. As for you, Blair, you will stay here. I have a few things to discuss with you in my study!” With that, he left the hall, and Nathaira stared after him with fury in her eyes.

“Calm down, milady!” Payton tried to defuse the situation, but Nathaira wouldn’t allow herself to be put in her place by him.

“Blair, what does Kyle mean when he says to choose a Cameron? You are going to marry me, you hear? You promised when we…you know!”

“Yes, I know! There’s nothing for you to be upset about!” Blair reassured her, running his hands over his face.

“You idiot! How can you put this
nighean na galladh
above your own clan?” Kyle yelled when Blair turned back to Nathaira to comfort her.

“Nobody—and especially not an almost-child like you—calls my sister the daughter of a dog! Get the hell away from me before I forget myself!” Cathal responded to this insult through gritted teeth, swinging his fist in Kyle’s direction.

“All I’m saying is that if I were clan chieftain, I would realize how important a marital union with the Camerons could be for my clan. I would think with my brain instead of my pecker!”

At the very last second Kyle fled from the hall—because Blair really looked about to go for his youngest brother’s throat.

“Blair, you are going to be clan chieftain soon. I’m calling for your help. Otherwise, I, too, will deprive you of my support and protection.” Cathal’s words echoed menacingly through the Great Hall.

“Of course,
mo charaid
. You can count on me. Sean, Payton, and I will accompany you,” Nathaira’s meek groom-to-be replied to his bride’s brother, and pressed a kiss on Nathaira’s cheek before following Fingal to his chambers. Nathaira had already seen that while he shied away from confrontation, he certainly wouldn’t risk either Cathal’s friendship or her affection, not even for his own father.

Tonight, Cathal would be able to prove that he and only he was laird, and that nobody else would take his place. He would ensure peace once and for all.

She knew where the stolen cattle were being kept. She just needed to pretend she had learned it from a Cameron. And once the cows were back, those vile bastard twins wouldn’t be able to lift a finger without giving themselves away as active participants in an elaborate plot. Not that she planned to let them get away with it. As soon as Cathal’s position within the clan was secured, she would make sure Duncan and Dougal would never again rise up against her brother. Maybe she could employ the services of some mercenaries, she pondered. The thought made her smile.

Full of anticipation, she stormed from the Great Hall, right by her brother’s side. Cathal was livid and would call on his men now. Blood would be shed tonight.

It was a night that would change everything, of that she was sure.

C
HAPTER
32

H
ysterical. I was completely hysterical! My lungs wouldn’t work the way they normally did: I was gasping horribly for breath but felt like I was choking on air at the same time. That coppery taste in my mouth was just a figment of my imagination, I knew that much, but the blood on my hands and my clothes was not. It was real.

I was gagging. There was the sharp, acidic taste of bile in my mouth, and I almost welcomed its bitterness because it was better than tasting actual blood.

Right now I was crouching in a crevice somewhere in the rock, hiding from the world because my legs refused to function. In reality, I couldn’t afford to take a break. The guards were for sure after me. But the realization of what I had done was so shocking, so distressing, that I’d found it hard enough to get even this far.

And so I was huddling in my cold, hard corner, trying to make myself small so anyone potentially following wouldn’t spot me. I was also trying to make sense of what had happened.

A long time ago, Payton had told me that the death of a shepherd had been the last drop. A shepherd! This whole time, even after arriving in eighteenth-century Scotland, I had always assumed that the shepherd was killed during one of the cattle raids. But that wasn’t what happened!

I
had killed Ross, the shepherd. Even though it wasn’t my own doing, the guards had witnessed the whole thing and assumed that I had acted on my own accord. Which was the last drop in making the cup of rising hatred against the Camerons run over. It forced Cathal’s hand and made him take his revenge—a bloody revenge resulting in a massacre that brought that awful curse on everyone involved, including Payton, the man I loved.

Again my stomach convulsed, and I held my breath to suppress the urge to throw up.

It was impossible! I could not be the cause of all of this—I didn’t even belong here! Or did I?

After all, my vision in Roy’s kitchen had predicted exactly what I was going to do, or rather what I would do in this past. So was I predestined to be here? In the past? Perhaps destiny and fate really did exist. Truth be told, it shouldn’t surprise me after everything I had experienced. Was everything happening because I was here (and really shouldn’t be), or was I here because everything was predestined anyway? What if everything I had ever done in my life had led me to this exact place today? Led me to holding the dagger destined to kill Ross?

This wasn’t helping! So, if
I
was the cause of this awful, awful day from the get-go, then it was also within
my
powers to allow for Vanora’s curse to happen—or not—wasn’t it?

This whole time I had tried to blend in and not get involved, but the result was that I was now responsible for everything that would ever happen. Me! How could I ever live with myself? How could I look Payton in the eye again?

Strictly speaking,
I
was Payton’s curse! I was responsible for what was about to happen this coming night. I was responsible for Vanora’s curse.

No longer able to ignore this overwhelming nausea, I threw up all over the fern growing next to me by the crevice. It grossed me out, and I wiped my mouth and stepped out into the open. My arms and legs were shaking, and the bright daylight hurt my eyes. I spat on the ground and staggered a few steps forward.

“Friggity shit!” I mumbled, feeling better immediately. “Crap, crap, crap!”

Oh yes, using foul language definitely helped.

“You can all kiss my ass! I’m done playing your goddamn shitty game!” I hollered, pulling Payton’s dagger from its hiding place on my upper thigh.

Destiny was trying to screw me over!
Face your destiny?
Bah! It was high time to show destiny the middle finger and get on with making my own decisions!

I looked around and tried to figure out my alternatives.

I couldn’t go back to the Stuarts, because they would throw me in the dungeon without batting an eyelid. There I would probably rot for eternity, and nobody would ever believe a single word I said.

Back to Payton? Not a great idea, either, because the risk was too great of falling into the hands of the Stuarts, who were just thirsting for revenge.

That left only one other possibility: I had to somehow make it to Cameron territory to stop the massacre and the curse from happening. And if that meant that Payton in the present day wouldn’t stare death in the eye because he would have been dead for several hundred years—well, then so be it! This would be my attempt at achieving forgiveness.

I turned in the direction toward where I expected to find Castle Coulin, and I started walking.

Vanora stood by the battlements atop Castle Coulin, her gaze fixed on the horizon. An angry wind lashed at her face, spreading a sense of foreboding and whispering the future into her ear.

And Vanora listened. She had always listened to the voice of the wind, and throughout her life she’d learned to trust it. Today was the day she had long ago seen in one of her visions, the day when they would meet again. A smile spread over her face. Today she would see her daughter—for the first time since Grant Stuart had cast her out of Castle Galthair after she had given birth to the child. She pushed her memories back into the recesses of her mind and turned back to the voice of the wind.

A girl runs, fights, cries…

as, within her, guilt and innocence unite.

Vanora heaved a deep sigh and closed her eyes. The fate of this unknown girl was her fate, too. They both carried the burden of having seen the future, and yet they seemed unable to use that insight.

Vanora raised her arms and with her hands directed the wind, making it turn so it was in the unknown girl’s back, driving her, supporting her, instead of blocking her way. She had to make haste, or else it would all be for naught.

It was in this girl’s hands alone to seal everyone’s fate and complete the circle. Only then would love triumph over hatred.

The Highlands, Vanora’s self-chosen prison, had become her home over all these years, her exile: a substitute for the family she had been denied.

Yes, today hatred would win. But hope would live on in Muireall Cameron, a child of love.

Vanora turned around, ignoring the beauty of the mountains around her, and focused on fulfilling her task.

Muireall Cameron had to live. She would make sure of that, for she carried within her the roots of love itself.

“Cuimhnich air na daoine o’n d’thanig thu, Muireall,”
she whispered into the wind, asking Muireall to remember those from whom she was descended.

Kyle, who had run from the Great Hall after that heated argument, had regained his composure in the meantime, but the cacophony roaring from his father’s chambers and echoing through the castle worried him greatly. He had never seen Blair lose his temper like that, which was why he returned to the hall to find out what Payton and Sean thought of the whole sorry affair. To whom were they more loyal? Their father, who was still the laird, or Blair, to whom they had also sworn their oath of allegiance?

“Don’t sit here like you have nothing better to do! Get yourselves ready—we’ll leave with Cathal in an hour!” Blair hollered, angrily traversing the hall and making a beeline for his youngest brother. Kyle couldn’t get out of the way in time.

“And as for you, get lost!” Blair barked, shoving him aside.

“Is Kyle not coming with us?” Sean asked. He was just returning from his early-morning weapons test and had missed the dispute entirely.

Kyle noticed the scornful look in Blair’s eyes when the latter replied, “No, we have no use for insolent children!”

With that, Blair hurried out into the courtyard, and Kyle rose, feeling irritated. He returned to the table, where Sean was in the process of emptying the tankard of beer he’d left behind.

“What do we do now?” he asked.

He was met by blank faces. Payton was visibly worried about Samantha, and Sean just shrugged in resignation.

“I will ride with Blair,” Payton finally decided, running his fingers through his hair. “I need to speak with Cathal about Sam as soon as possible. Father won’t be in good standing with him for a while, but he might listen to me
if I ride with him.”

“I’m coming, too. For one, because Blair ordered us to; and for another, because someone has to try to smooth things out between him and Father. He will listen to me if he knows that we trust his judgment,” Sean said.

“And what about me? What should I do? Do I really stay here?” Kyle asked in disbelief.

His brothers nodded in unison, and Sean placed a hand on his shoulder.

“You need to learn to hold your tongue, for you have sworn your allegiance to him. You should try to put this dispute to rest by the time we get back. I heard that all he wanted was to inform Father of his engagement to Nathaira. You need to come to terms with your future sister-in-law.”

With that, Sean got up and left Kyle alone with Payton to ready himself for the upcoming conflict with the Cameron clan.

“He must be out of his mind! And so is Blair if he is intent on marrying that wretched woman!” Kyle grumbled.

“Listen, Kyle, even if Blair has no use for you right now, there is something important you could do for me.”

Payton got up and started pacing. “I will try to talk with Cathal, but I really would feel better if I knew that Sam was safe. Could you ride to Castle Galthair and keep an eye on her?”

Kyle was less than amused to obey Blair’s orders and stay at home like a naughty child while his brothers were allowed to go to war. But he realized how important it was for Payton to know that the girl was well taken care of. And so he caved in, even though he had no intention of making nice with Nathaira.

“Aye, Payton. I will take care of Sam.”

Payton thanked him with a great sigh of relief, and then hurried to get ready for the ride ahead.

Kyle stayed behind by himself, raising his tankard of beer to his lips and snorting in disappointment when he saw that all that was left of it was the frothy foam. Not wanting to cross paths with Blair again, he decided to allow himself another drink before getting his horse ready. He grinned as he thought back to Payton’s baffled face earlier when he, Kyle, had declared that he would marry a Cameron. There was no doubt in his mind that Payton, once all of this was over, would receive their father’s blessing, and that there would be a nice little wedding ceremony for them all to enjoy.

Kyle had almost finished his fresh draft of beer, when Payton stuck a frenzied head through the door one more time. He looked relieved.

“Oh good, I thought you’d already left. I just remembered something important. This morning, when I went to get Sam for breakfast, I had a package for her on me. It is now in her bedchamber, and it is very important to me that she get it. Could you take it with you?”

Kyle smirked. “A token of your love?”

“Oh, shut up. Just do it, all right?”

“Of course, Brother. And now go—the others are leaving,” he said as he heard hoofbeats out in the castle yard.

“Thank you, Kyle,” Payton mumbled. It was obviously important to him to know that Sam was safe and protected.

“My life for you, my brother,” Kyle replied with the motto they had been using since they were children. They’d said it whenever they pulled a prank on their older brothers or shared a secret.

When Kyle entered the bedchamber that Samantha had been using for the last few days, he immediately spotted the small package Payton had mentioned. It was lying on the table by the bed. It was soft, and wrapped in pale leather and held together by a leather band. He was tempted to lift a corner of the wrapping, but then he thought better of it. The gift was Samantha’s and none of his business. He would merely pass it on to her, whatever it might be. Stuffing it into his
sporran
caused a distinct bulge, but he just about managed to close it.

Then he turned around and smiled as his eyes fell on the many hunting trophies on the wall. Sean had slain most of those beasts when he was younger, with only a single one killed by Kyle himself. Kyle’s trophy was the tiniest pair of antlers, and back in the day it had caused hysterical laughing fits in his older brothers. Even today he found it hard to stop grinning when he compared it to the rest of the trophies, but his father and Payton had insisted that it was just as nice to look at as the rest, and that it absolutely deserved its special place on the wall—a special place in the bedchamber that was reserved for special guests.

He was somewhat surprised that his father would offer this room to a prisoner. Fingal must have been mulling over an allegiance with the Camerons for a good while, perhaps while they were still traveling. His eyes wandered, and he wondered what kind of room the Stuarts had offered Sam. He didn’t think it likely that she would sleep in a fancy bed like this.

Something caught his eye. What was that? He stepped closer and folded back the bed covers, surprised to find a note. He unfolded it.

Beloved Payton,

If you’re holding this note, then I’m probably no longer here. But I will always be with you—and, yes, waiting for you. Our time together isn’t over; our love for each other isn’t over. Not by a long shot! I’m going to save you in the same way that I will now try to stop you from blaming yourself for everything. You need to understand that you could not have stopped the massacre. Please don’t try to find an explanation. There isn’t one.

If you want to blame someone, then please blame me. I knew what would happen and I still couldn’t stop it, couldn’t warn you.

Perhaps you still experience some feeling when you’re reading this. If so, then I beg of you: Please don’t hate me! Forgive me for not having stopped it.

Hold on to the feeling of bliss you had with me, because for an endlessly long time it will be the last thing you’re allowed to feel. Yes, I know about the curse—and I didn’t stop it, didn’t find the courage to challenge fate. How could I? I just couldn’t risk never meeting you. I couldn’t bear the thought of living a life without ever knowing that you exist, without ever feeling your love. And with the same selfishness with which I’m allowing everything else to happen, I’m now asking for your forgiveness. I ask you to love me beyond all time. Don’t forget about me when your heart turns to stone and your soul is dragged into darkness.