My Tempting Highlander (Highland Hearts #3) (21 page)

Without opening her eyes, Mairi patted the bed until she located another pillow.
Thank goodness.
Her fingers sank into the depths of the downy blob and she pulled it over her face.
Never again.
She slowly filtered in a deep intake of air through the pillow then eased one leg over the side of the bed and settled her bare toes firmly on the cold floor. That helped. A little. A maniacal demon was still attempting to jackhammer its way out through her eye sockets, but the old foot-on-the-floor trick had stopped the bed from spinning.

Coira’s nauseatingly cheerful voice shattered the stillness of the room. “Good morn, Mistress Mairi. Time ta rise and shine.”

Sharply clicking heels, rattling china, and a jarring out-of-tune whistle urged the demon inside Mairi’s skull to rev the jackhammer into high gear. She cringed against the pain and clutched the pillow tighter over her face. Maybe if she stayed quiet, Coira would think she was dead and would go away.

“Up wi’ ye now. I’ve brought ye a bit o’ breakfast and then we’ll see to yer washin’. A brisk scrub in a bit a loch water will fair set yer heart to pumpin’, I’ll wager. Especially since Rabbie said the ice was nearly thick as two of Cook’s fingers.” Coira ripped the shelter of the pillow out of Mairi’s hands and beamed her brightest smile as she continued, “And Cook has verra fat fingers.”

“Go. Away.” Mairi draped an arm across her face and swallowed hard against the bile burning at the back of her throat. If she got through this morning without puking, it would be a miracle.

Coira clucked like a nesting hen while yanking the coverlet off Mairi. “Ah now. None o’ that. Up wi’ ye. Mother Sinclair said ye might be feelin’ a bit poorly so she brewed ye a strong cup o’ willow bark tea.”

Mairi licked her lips and swallowed hard.
Dammit.
Her cotton-dry mouth tasted like someone had shit in it. She rubbed a hand across her face and gingerly eased herself up to a sitting position.

Coira’s high-pitched humming raked jagged nails across her raw nerve endings. The thunder of her blood pounding inside her head sounded like a herd of stampeding elephants about to run her down. And she wished they would. Death by trampling didn’t seem like such a bad way to go right now. Mairi squinted one eye shut and held up a hand. “Quiet. Please.” She held on to the edge of the nightstand and slowly stood. Her stomach rebelled with such a nauseating gurgle, she broke out in a cold sweat.
Son of a bitch. I’ll never drink again.
Mairi eased her way back down to the edge of the bed, keeping her eyes closed against the painful morning light filtering through the window.

“Here, mistress.” Coira’s cool fingers pried her hand away from her eyes and curled them about a small metal cup. “Hair of the dog first, then willow bark tea. Ye’ll soon feel better.”

“I very much doubt that,” Mairi whispered past a nauseating hiccup that came dangerously close to triggering a full-fledged gag.

“Drink up.” Coira guided Mairi’s hand that was clutching the cup closer to her mouth.

Fruity alcoholic fumes wafted up from the liquid. Mairi quickly pushed it away, turned her head aside, and gagged. “Take it. Now.”

As soon as Coira had rescued the cup from her grasp, Mairi dropped to the floor, yanked the empty chamber pot out from under the bed, and crouched over it on all fours. Dry heaves shook her body as she retched over the ceramic bowl, her gagging magnified and echoing from the acoustics of the pot.

“Oh dear.” Coira hurried to the nightstand, poured a bit of water into the washbowl, and soused in a rag. She twisted out the excess water, knelt beside Mairi, and pressed the cold cloth to the back of Mairi’s neck.

Mairi locked her elbows and closed her eyes.
Please just let me die right now so I’ll feel better.
She leaned against the side of the bed, concentrating on controlled deep breathing as Coira mopped her face with the cool cloth.

“I feared as much.” Granny’s
I-told-you-so
tone echoed from across the room.

“Can the lecture please wait until I stop puking?” Mairi hugged the chamber pot to her chest as she rolled to a seated position with her back against the bed frame.

“She couldna bear a sip of either the port or the tea afore she started retchin’.” Coira hurried to the washbasin, rewet the rag, then folded it across Mairi’s forehead.

“Rarely would I consider a hangover a valid ailment to be healed and I’m none too sure the Fates will cooperate and allow it.” Granny stood with hands calmly laced in front of her waist, the toe of one boot lightly tapping the floor. “But since the Highlands have graced us with a bit of sunshine this wintry morning, there’s a wedding to be done.”

Mairi hung her head back over the pot clutched to her chest and retched again. She didn’t know which was worse: the hangover or the farce of a wedding that would finally bring this miserable adventure to an end.

Granny crouched down in front of her, pressed cool hands to either side of her face, and gently forced Mairi to meet her gaze. “Look into my eyes, gal. This won’t take much of a healin’ to have you feeling better.”

And Granny was right. Almost as quickly as she focused on the clear blue of Granny’s eyes, her stomach settled and the demon with the jackhammer closed shop and abandoned the job of splitting her skull. Mairi pulled in a deep breath, slid the chamber pot to the floor beside her, and covered Granny’s hands with her own. “Thank you,” she whispered. Now the only thing left hurting was her broken heart.

Granny held tight to her hand as Mairi pushed herself to her feet. “There’s my good strong gal. Now wash your face and drink your tea. A bit of willow bark will still do you a world of good.”

Mairi cupped her hands in the cold water of the basin and splashed it on her face. All she had to do was get through one day at a time—today being the worst. She scrubbed her face with the wet cloth, glancing down at her haggard reflection in the water. She looked like shit. But then, she would. Emotionally, the past few days had sucked.

“There’s a bit of mint beside the basin.” Coira lightly tapped Mairi’s arm with a folded bit of muslin. “Yer sister likes to wind the herb in a cloth and scrub her teeth with such. I thought ye might like to as well, considering…”

“Trulie always did love minty-fresh breath.” Mairi took the cloth, filled it with the aromatic crushed leaves, then dampened it in the basin.
By tomorrow, I’ll be back to a real toothbrush and toothpaste.
The thought stung her eyes with tears. Mairi sniffed them back and scrubbed her teeth even harder.
No more crying. It is what it is.

“None but the chieftain and her grandmother will attend? Are her sisters against the union?” The waves lapped and splashed against Graham’s scaly sides as he stretched his wings above the water’s surface and resettled atop the jagged column of stone jutting up from the ocean’s floor. The rocky spire crumbled and crunched as his claws clamped deep into the barnacle-covered surface.

Ronan gazed out across the darkness of the rippling waves. The weak winter’s sun would soon ride atop the sea. ’Twas then they’d recite their vows and shatter the witch’s words. “Nay. Her sisters are no’ against the union. Mairi insists they stay inside with the children. They’ll be safer within the keep. She fears what might come to pass when the ancient bonds of the curse are broken.”

Graham lowered his horned snout in an appreciative nod. “Wise woman she is.”

“Aye.” Ronan turned back to face the keep, focusing on the small stone archway at the corner of the weathered skirting wall facing the sea. Mairi would come to him through that arch. He hoped. He closed his eyes against the troubling shadows he’d seen in her gaze the last time he’d looked upon her face. Sorrow, distrust, and disappointment had flickered in the deep gold green of her eyes. ’Twas his fault. All his doing. By the gods, how could he ever convince her to forgive him for causing her so much pain? He’d only meant to shield her from the worst part of him because he feared losing her more than he’d feared anything else in his life.

“Yon comes yer bride. Stand tall, man. The woman is a beauty ye nay deserve.”

Graham had the right of it there. Ronan’s heart swelled as Mairi slowly picked her way down the steep rocky hillside. Her dark cloak of rich supple fur perfectly framed the beauty of her creamy skin. The black-tipped fur shot with silver accentuated the fringe of her dark lashes, which surrounded the stormy sadness of her eyes. The icy wind tipped the arch of her high cheekbones with a tender kiss of color.

Gray walked beside her, face downcast. No smile. No joy in the drawn lines of his face. Granny carefully followed behind them, one hand clutching her heavy wool cloak tight beneath her chin, the other hand firmly grasping her crooked staff.

“This looks to be more funeral than wedding.” Graham sank lower into the sea, one claw still wrapped about the tip of the stone.

A soft mournful howl floated across the wind. Ronan turned, scanning the hillside for the source of the familiar sound.
Máthair
nimbly trotted down to the shore, her rich silvery fur rippling lush and thick with every movement. She stood atop an outcropping of stone, ears perked toward the trio carefully making their way down to the shoreline.

Ronan met Mairi, holding his hand out to her just as she reached the base of the cliff. She paused a hairsbreadth, avoiding his gaze when she finally slid her hand into his. Ronan braced himself against the raw ache burning in his chest. He’d truly lost her. He finally saw the cruel truth of it. She’d never be his. Suddenly, the loss of his immortality seemed the greatest blessing of all time. At least in death, he’d escape the pain of losing the only woman he had ever truly loved.

“Here.” Gray motioned them all toward a wide mantel rock jutting out over the waves. “What better place to recite yer binding vow than on the last bit of stone to capture the light of the setting sun?”

And he was right. As the sun sank lower, the shadow of evening crept down the mountain. But the crystals in the stone on which they stood still sparked with the day’s last bit of light.

Ronan led Mairi to the center of the stone. Gray stood with his back to Graham and the ever-increasing turbulence of the darkening waves. Iona the wolf watched from an outcropping of stone at the water’s edge. Granny stood close beside Mairi, the crystal tip of her staff softly glowing as though emitting a protective arc of light.

“Are ye ready?” Ronan stared down at Mairi’s delicate gloved hand, gently folding it in his. What he wouldna give for the chance to make everything right—make her know how much he truly loved her.

Mairi stood taller, as though bracing herself for execution. Her gaze flitted about the surroundings then finally settled on Gray and she nodded. “Let’s get this over with.”

Ronan clenched his teeth to keep from roaring aloud with the pain caused by her words.
Let’s get this over with.
May the gods help him. The woman truly hated him.

Gray agreed with a sharp nod then yanked his dagger free of its sheath. He held a hand out to Mairi and waited.

Mairi frowned down at Gray’s outstretched hand then stole a glance up at Ronan. The tip of her tongue darted across her bottom lip as she hitched in a shaking breath. With a nervous jerk, she bared her right wrist and placed it in Gray’s hand. He drew the knife across her pale skin with a quick slicing motion. He nodded toward Ronan’s right arm as Mairi’s blood seeped up and trailed down the sides of her arm.

Ronan extended his arm, his right hand fisted. He welcomed the slicing pain of the blade; ’twas nothing compared to the ache in his heart.

Gray pressed their wounds together and bound their wrists one to the other with a narrow strip of plaid. He pressed the bloody blade of the knife atop the cloth and lifted his gaze to the sky. “Blood seals the seams of souls. Blood joins the hearts. Blood makes the flesh as one. These two shall never part. For the good of all and with harm to none, this blood cleanses the wound. For the good of all and with harm to none, this blood pays the boon.” Gray raised the knife, pointing the blade upward toward the clouds. He raised his voice as the wind rose in pitch, the sky darkening above the angry frothing peaks of the crashing waves. “Hear these words and bide them well across the mists of time. This union is now forever blessed by the mixed blood that binds. For the good of all and with harm to none—so let this union be sealed. For the good of all and with harm to none—let this curse be repelled.”

Lightning split the sky and exploded all around them, arcing in blue and white bursts of energy across the water and the hillside. The rock ledge on which they stood split apart, sending Gray tumbling down to the water’s edge in a landslide of shattered stone.

Ronan yanked Mairi close, turning and shielding her in his embrace as the unholy fire ripped through the air about them. “I’ll protect ye, lass. Dinna fear—I will shield ye from whate’er comes.”

An eerie moan rode high across the wind then shattered into a bone-chilling, high-pitched cackle. “Protect her?” The cruel screeching laugh echoed all around them, plucking and pinching at them with icy unseen fingers. “You’d fare better protecting yourself, fool. I have risen from the depths of hell and I will have justice for these years of torment.”

Graham belched out a volley of flames as he spread his wings and skimmed across the water’s surface toward them. “Hie back to the depths of torture from whence ye came. Allow me ta light yer way.” He unhinged his leathery jaws and released a molten stream of liquid fire into the swell of the growling black cloud.

An angry burst of wind ate up the flames, swirling into a pillar of lightning-filled blackness. The boiling column of crackling energy swirled across the waves, beating Graham back out to sea. “Pathetic beast. Sink back to yer own depths, for after this day is done, ye’ll ne’er rise from them again.”

Iona the wolf, ears flattened and teeth bared, snarled as she leapt up to the rock and took her stance beside Granny. Shielding her face with one crooked arm, Granny raised her glowing staff and pushed forward against the wind. “This. Is. Over. Your wickedness is done here—”

“It’s no’ done ’til I say ’tis done!” The air split and shattered with the witch’s anger. “Yer all fools. The curse has nay been broken and this verra day shall mark my return to this world. I shall have my revenge!”

Mairi pulled free of Ronan’s embrace, raising her bloodied arm to the storm as she squinted up into the sky. “Look at this! Look! We did what you said we had to do. We’re married. Now call off that damn curse and admit you’re defeated.”

Ronan stepped in front of Mairi, locking an arm about her as he held her to his back. “Stay in back of me ’til I send this evil away.”

The spiral of blackness roiled wider across the firth, stirring the sea into a violent churning mass. Graham floundered and sank beneath the waves as the momentum overpowered him. The ground shook with the force of the sea crashing against the stones beneath their feet. A jeering voice boomed out across the land, overpowering all other sound. “Ye may be wed but yer no’ bound. Yer hearts are still separated—one walled off from the other. Ye each feel as though all is lost. The curse is no’ broken. My evil has once again triumphed over that ridiculous weakness called love.”

Ronan raised his bloodstained wrist to the winds, shaking his fist at the black column rising from the frothing sea. “Our blood is mixed. Our souls are sealed. It is done. We have abided by yer terms.” Surely the witch couldna know the truth. Surely she had no way of seeing into their hearts and knowing just how right she was.

The black energy slowed in its spinning. The crashing waves eased and the howling wind died down. A deep eerie chuckle rumbled forth from the center of the cloud, echoing dark and low like the solemn tolling of a deathly bell. “Think ye I am naught but a fool?”

“I think ye be evil. No more. No less.” Ronan spread his arms back against Mairi, keeping her shielded behind him.

The dark cloud swirled slowly, drawing closer to Ronan. “And I think ye be the fool.” The air exploded with a blinding flash and a deafening rapport sounded, rolling out and repeating in teeth-jarring ripples across the land.

Ronan staggered backward, fighting to keep his footing and hold his post between Mairi and the evil storm intent on destroying them all. His ears rang with a strange hollow keening that twisted him sideways and pushed him to his knees. He fought to catch his breath through the burning grip tightening like a band about his chest.

An unholy chuckling filled the air. “Yer a lucky man, Ronan Sutherland—since ye’ve so kindly assisted with my release from hell, ye’ve put me in the verra best of moods. I shall grant yer wish to end yer immortality. Do ye feel the darkness of cold death closing in around ye? Do ye? Aye…ye do. Ye see, m’fine chieftain, I’ve decided to be overly generous and permit yer end.”

The icy grip around his lungs tightened, forcing him to his back. Ronan flailed against the unseen force, the pounding rush of his blood roaring in his ears.
So this is how it is to end
. He’d prayed for death, cursed immortality and the endless span of lonely years. And now that he’d finally found the other half of his soul, he’d never get to beg her forgiveness and pray for another chance to cherish the gift of her heart.

As he fell back, Ronan reached out and caught Mairi’s hand.
I canna die without her knowing
.
I have to live long enough to make her see the truth in my heart.
“Forgive me, love. I beg ye. Forgive me for bein’ such a damned fool.”

Mairi’s tear-streaked face swam in front of him, fading in and out of focus. Was she crying for him? Did she clutch his hand to her heart? Ronan blinked hard against the roaring darkness threatening to suck him under. “I loved ye from the first moment I saw ye. Ye must know…” Coughing spasms ripped through him. An icy numbness settled across him.
Must tell her. Must say the words.
“I hid the things I feared would drive ye away from me. I am a weak man, Mairi. I couldna bear the thought of losin’ ye or havin’ ye think ill of me. I love ye so much it frightens me. I’ve ne’er felt so before.”

The sweetest scent he’d ever known closed in around him. Ronan locked on the smell as he closed his eyes, sinking back into the soft darkness of lavender and honey…the sweet fragrance of his Mairi—the solace to his heart, the comfort to his soul.

“I loved ye true, m’dearest one,” Ronan whispered with a weary breath. “Please know that I always loved ye true.”

“Ronan!” Mairi rocked him back against her chest, cradling his head in her arms as she angrily swiped her tearstained cheek against her shoulder. “Don’t you die on me—not when you finally figured out how to tell me the truth, damn you! Don’t you dare die on me now.”

Closing her eyes, she pressed her cheek against his forehead and struggled to shut out the chaos around her. She’d show that conniving bitch. She’d heal Ronan and let him know how much she loved him. They’d say the vows for real this time and that witch could haul her evil ass straight back to hell.

The wind tore around her, stung her skin, plucked and yanked at her hair.

“Tell the foolish child she wastes her energy. Tell her the truth, old one.” The witch’s chilling voice boomed like thunder in tandem with flashes of lightning.

“There is no truth to tell,” Granny shouted into the wind with a hard stamping of her staff. The blue crystal sparked with a brighter glow as she edged closer to Mairi.

“Ye ken the truth well enough. I command ye to tell her.” The darkness’s voice crackled and sparked across the turbulent sea.

Mairi jerked around and faced the storm, still hugging Ronan tight against her chest. “Tell me what truth? Spit it out so I can heal Ronan and show you the damn door out of here.”

“Heal Ronan?” Bubbling laughter rolled and echoed from every direction as though the very rocks themselves chortled and snorted at Mairi’s words. “There will be no healing of Ronan. You are the cursed woman, Mairi, just as I once was.” The witch’s voice softened, her tone seeming almost friendly—deadly friendly. “We are the same, Mairi, you and I. A sisterhood, ye might say. Bound by our ability to see all the falsehoods in men’s hearts. Bound by our ability to see their lies. No man is truly capable of love—not real love, not the driving unconditional love we’re consumed with when we’re stupid enough to fall under the spell of their lies. We know they can ne’er be believed. We know the wickedness lying in their hearts.”

Iona the wolf pressed tight against Mairi’s side, her body rumbling with a low-throated growl. Granny edged closer, flanking her other side. “Don’t listen to her, Mairi. She’s wrong. That’s not how it has to be and you know it.”