CHAPTER 32
Hysterical. 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.
Payton, mo luaidh, I’m going to save you. And then I will be forever by your side.
Sam
Kyle’s fingers trembled as he read the letter over and over, trying to make sense of it.
“She’s got the gift of second sight. She sees things. She says the Fates have sent her here to save my life,” he
said, remembering Payton’s words. His brother had trusted her, even when she had foretold disaster. “Aye, I believe
her.”
Payton had said this without a shadow of a doubt in his voice. Which was why he, too, had to trust her and not hesitate.
Payton had to read these few lines, and fast.
As Kyle pushed the note into his fur pouch, the skin on his arms prickled. Sam had written about a massacre. If she told
the truth, he could not stand idly by as his brothers rushed headlong to their doom—or, as she referred to it, a curse.
He had to stop it.
Only when he reached the stables did he realize he was still carrying the package for Sam in his sporran. He wouldn’t
see her at Galthair but would instead follow his brothers as quickly as he could. He would therefore just return the
package to Payton. No sooner had he stuffed everything into his saddlebags and reached for his weapons than the stable
boy handed him the reins. With one final glance up to the darkening, cloud-heavy sky, Kyle drove his horse out of the
gate.