Trapped Under his Highland Spell: A Scottish Medieval Historical Romance (Tales Of Highland Might Book 4)

by Ava McArthur

  Moira stared at him coldly. She bit her tongue for a moment and paused so as to not let herself drown in her anger. “It’s nice tae know ye hae made up yer mind about me without nary a second thought. Did ye even read the letter?”

  “I dinnae need tae read it. The fact that ye were willing tae send one is proof enough that something is amiss.”

  Moira pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. She dragged herself off the bed and walked towards him, bending down to pick up the two halves of the letter he had torn apart.

  She handed them both to him and suggested that he read it before he leaped to wild judgments. Gruffly, he held the two halves of the paper together while Moira moved away, putting distance between them. She watched as Niall’s tired eyes danced across the words. His demeanor started to change, and when he ended, he looked surly.

  “Well, it doesnae change anything,” he muttered.

  “It changes everything!” Moira cried, flinging her hand out in front of her. “How can ye stand there and accuse me of betraying ye when ye are the one who haes done the betraying?”

  “Me?” Niall reared back.

  “Aye, ye hae betrayed the vows we made. We promised tae stand by each other and tae support each other. We promised tae always be honest with each other and tae trust each other. Well, I hae never lied tae ye, but ye clearly dinnae trust me!” Now it was Moira’s turn to pace around the room. Her body bristled with a burst of crackling energy.

  She tingled and trembled, but not in the exciting way she usually did when she was around her husband. “Niall, dae ye really believe that I would be capable of something like this? Why are ye sae determined tae point a finger in my direction? Does the time we spent taegether mean nothing tae ye?”

  Niall was clearly struggling with something, but he didn’t seem ready to let go of his suspicions yet. “Of course it means something. That’s why this hurts sae much. Surely ye can see why I’m suspicious. Look at the timing of everything. Can ye honestly look intae yer heart and tell me that there is no way yer brother would dae this?”

  Niall’s gaze was penetrating, but if he thought that Moira was going to forsake her brother, then he clearly didn’t know her well at all. There was not any trace of doubt in her heart. She spoke in a low tone and as clearly as she could in the hope that Niall would actually understand her.

  “There’s no way,” Moira said.

  Niall opened his mouth to argue with her again, but this time Moira wasn’t going to let him.

  “Ye can try and tell me whatever ye want, but there is nothing ye can say tae make me mistrust Marcas. He haes always been there for me and he haes always protected me. In fact, the only time he haes done something I hae nae agreed with is send me here! Sae ye tell me if I can trust him or nae.

  It is ye I dinnae know, and as much as I hae enjoyed spending time with ye, it is becoming abundantly clear that there is much I still hae tae learn. Perhaps this is all yer scheme because ye never wanted peace in the first place. Maybe this is all just an illusion and ye are trying tae frame Marcas and me tae be the villains in the hope that others will join ye against us.

  Ye see how easy it is tae come up with wild conspiracies?” she said in a high-pitched voice as Niall’s mouth was open.

  “I would never dae anything like that!” he protested.

  “And I would never dae anything like this!” Moira yelled, shaking her head in frustration. She opened her palms and tried to speak calmly. “I know that ye are struggling at the moment. I know what it’s like tae hae family members fall ill when there’s nothing ye can dae. But that doesnae mean ye get tae throw around wild accusations at me.”

  “I’m just trying tae get tae the truth,” Niall said through gritted teeth.

  Moira glared at him and narrowed her eyes, wondering if there was ever going to be a way back for them after this.

  “Ye are trying tae get tae the truth ye want. Ye are nae open tae any other ideas.”

  “Like Grizel’s?” Niall barked a derisive laugh. “Ye need tae get those stories out of yer mind, Moira. There are no spirits.”

  “And ye know that for sure? Well then, why dinnae ye gae out intae the forests now if there’s nothing tae be scared of.” She planted her hands on her hips and challenged him. Niall didn’t move, which was what she thought would happen. She nodded and sneered.

  “That doesnae matter. All that matters is...” Niall was trying to sound reasonable, but the time for reason was over. Moira had been hurt by the way he acted. It wasn’t anything she had ever expected from her husband, and it made all her worst fears come true.

  “All that matters is what ye think of me, Niall. If ye truly believe that I would dae this tae harm ye, then what is the point in any of this? Why spend sae long negotiating a treaty with my brother if ye are ready tae blame him for the first thing that goes wrong? I was brought here tae seal an alliance between our clans, tae put an end tae the hostilities that hae existed between the Monroes and the Calbraiths for generations. I want tae be that person. I want tae dae my duty and bring the clans taegether. I dinnae want there tae be any more wars or battles. I hae seen tae much sorrow and lost tae much for that. Sae haes Marcas. He doesnae blame ye for what happened tae Da, and he doesnae want anything but peace. He’s happy with his wife and his family. Why can’t ye be happy tae?”

  “Because my family is sick,” Niall said darkly.

  “And I’m sorry for that. I truly am. I want tae help. We should be working taegether tae find a way tae cure them, nae pointing fingers and arguing. What use is this daeing? What good is this daeing anyone?”

  Niall mumbled something unintelligible and folded his arms, resting his chin against his fingers. Moira ran her hand over her face, wiping away some of the angry and frustrated tears that had simmered out of her eyes.

  “I dinnae know what tae dae now,” she said hopelessly. “I hae tried tae tell ye the truth, but ye just wilnae listen. This marriage was supposed tae strengthen the alliance, but if ye wilnae believe what I say, then what’s the point of it? The alliance needs both of us for it tae work, Niall. I came here. I left my home, my family, everything I hae ever known and loved tae be yer wife. I hae tried tae dae right by ye. I hae tried tae be what our clans need us tae be, and I was actually starting tae believe that we could hae a good life taegether. But I know that when ye look at me, ye cannae see anything other than a Monroe, can ye?”

  Niall’s silence spoke volumes. Anger vanished and was replaced by sorrow. It sat like a stone in her heart. Moira choked back a sob and pressed her fist to her mouth. Niall began to look apologetic, but the damage had been done. When he spoke again, it was in a quiet voice, subdued and lost, like a child who was unsure of their place in the world.

  “I dinnae know what tae believe anymore. I wanted peace more than anything, more than the chaos that came before. When I looked at my father, all I saw was a man twisted and bitter, ready tae strike out at the world no matter what was against him. He wanted war more than anything, and all I could think about was what it cost. I knew there haed tae be another way, but this…I dinnae know what tae dae. I feel sae lost.”

  “All I want is peace tae, Niall. That’s all any of us haes ever wanted. We all want the same things, but ye are the one making it impossible. I thought I haed a home here, but ye hae shown me that I’m never gaeing tae be anything more than a stranger. I’m gaeing tae sleep somewhere else. I hoped that we might be able tae solve this, but clearly ye cannae see anything other than a Monroe. I thought our marriage meant something more. I thought we were gaeing tae change things for the better, but I see now that it’s nae possible. When ye decide what tae dae, ye can come tae me, but if ye cannae find it in yer heart tae trust me, then perhaps it’s better that I should gae back home.”

  Moira pushed herself away from the bed and past Niall, flinging the door open. He reached out to try and grab her, but she was just out of his reach. She ignored him calling after her and didn’t look back as she made her way to
another room and slammed the door, locking it behind her. She flung herself onto the bed and immediately began sobbing into the pillow.

  All the sorrow flowed out of her in a torrent, and it didn’t seem as though there was any way to stop it. Everything she hoped for had crumbled around her, and she knew there was no way to get it back. Niall had become everything she feared. It was pointless being his wife if he was always going to mistrust and suspect her. All she wanted to do was help, but nobody there appreciated it.

  How she longed for home and the comforting familiarity of her old room. In her mind, she traveled back and thought about what it was like to wake up to share breakfast with her brother and sister-in-law, and then to play with her niece and nephew. A warm glow filled her heart, but even that was tainted now.

  Before, she had always been content with playing the role of the fun aunt, but after experiencing a glimmer of happiness with Niall, she had begun to think about having a family of her own. Now it didn’t seem enough to just be an aunt. She wanted more. She wanted everything, and after all she had been through, she felt that she deserved it. But who would want her if this marriage failed?

  Moira buried her head in the pillow. She kept one ear pricked in case Niall came to her door, knocking and seeking forgiveness. How she hoped he would so that there was still a glimpse of hope to cling to.

  How she wished that he would come in and be the warm, charming man who had first welcomed her into her new home, who had embraced her with love and passion and had shown her what it was like to be a woman.

  But there was no knock at the door.

  16

  Moira awoke with a yawn. She looked around the cold, empty room, and sighed despondently. The morning sun peeked in through the shutters, creating dancing shadows.

  The walls were bare aside from a wreath that hung above the bed. Moira smiled wryly and wondered how Niall could entertain Grizel while also mocking her behind her back. She wondered if it was something similar to what he had been doing with her. He had asked for her hand in marriage, had actually insisted on it if Marcas’s account was anything to go by.

  He had been charming He had spent time with her. They had made love, and a whole world had been opened up to her, and yet that had not been enough to win his heart or his trust apparently. There seemed to be a cold stone where his heart should have been, and Moira just wanted to break down and cry.

  She wiped an errant sob away from her eyes, but in truth, she had cried enough through the night to last a hundred lifetimes.

  Niall hadn’t come to her. She thought he would want to salvage some of their feelings; she had hoped that her words were have drawn some compassion from him or tugged at his heartstrings. Instead, they had only brought about a silence as cold and inexorable as the walls that surrounded her.

  As Moira’s gaze drifted around the room, she sighed again and thought how much this place was like a prison. Was this how Kirsten had felt when Uncle Roderick had condemned her as a murderer and thrown her in the dank dungeon? Moira’s thoughts turned to home, to Marcas, Kirsten, Gregor, and Lileas. A smile tugged at her cheeks at the thought of her niece and nephew running around, causing mischief, with the loyal hound Max circling them like a dutiful maid.

  It was such a happy thought, and vivid emotion burst in Moira’s heart, which was followed by sorrow that was as sharp as a knife, as she knew that it was all happening without her.

  In that moment, she hated Marcas for ever agreeing to this marriage, even though she knew he was just doing what was right for peace. But the end result was that she had been torn from her home with barely a chance to say goodbye and taken to this world where her husband saw her as the enemy. When they had been making love, Moira had not seen any trace of deception or suspicion in Niall’s eyes. Had he hid it well or had she simply deluded herself into believing that this marriage was going to end like one of the happy stories she told to Gregor and Lileas to get them to sleep? Well, nothing was ever like the stories. Monsters were never obvious and gruesome.

  Sometimes they could appear to be the most charming creatures in the land, and sometimes they could promise happiness, which was a far more tempting commodity than gold.

  This place was supposed to be her home. The old building surrounded by the forest was going to be her fortress. The beautiful shoreline was going to be her horizon. The small villages dotted around were going to be hers to mold into a new, prosperous clan. These people were supposed to be her people, but instead, they were strangers to her, and Moira was left forlorn.

  She was Lady Calbraith in name only. When even her own husband did not trust her, how could she expect other people to? She had to allow herself a dry laugh at the thought that the only person who had actually shown her genuine kindness was the old hag who everyone said was crazy. Well, she and Isobel, Moira supposed.

  But she might never get the chance to call Isobel a true friend, and Moira worried deep in her heart for Isobel and Jamie. Despite the way Niall had treated her, Moira was still concerned about them and all the other people who had fallen ill.

  Her thoughts turned to the words the healer had told her, and she furrowed her brow. She had been certain that she would have found something near the well, but nothing had revealed itself. All she wanted to do was help, but Niall was standing in her way. The man was like a huge boulder standing in a mountain pass, and there was nothing she could do but stand in its shadow, shrug, and walk away.

  She had tried to talk to him, to appeal to his heart, but each time, her words bounced off him as surely as a thin sword would bounce off a giant boulder.

  It was hopeless, and the only way she could preserve her dignity now was by being allowed to return home. It may well mean that the alliance would be broken, but with such suspicion emanating from Niall’s mind, it was never going to last very long anyway.

  The Calbraith and Monroe alliance would be but a footnote in history, a blip where the fighting ceased, and it would be clear to anyone who studied history that the two clans were made to be enemies and there was nothing they could do to prevent wars between each other.

  It was a sad, sorrowful thought to think that Niall wasn’t only condemning her to these feelings, but that he was condemning future generations to this same fate. Moira spared a thought for the children she had assumed she was going to have.

  They were going to be the symbol of a new future for the historic enemies, but now they would never be born. She would never feel Niall’s touch again. She would never descend into his arms and sink into his sweet warmth. She would never…

  Moira drew her knees into her body and bowed her head. Her shoulders shook with a shudder, and she resigned herself to her fate.

  But then something flourished inside her, some instinct that had been buried deep inside her heart. She was not going to be the kind of person who stood by and did nothing. She was going to be brave, like her father. He was the example by which she and Marcas tried to live their lives, and there was nothing to say that she could not be as brave as him just because she was a woman.

  She could not be a warrior, but her father had always taught them that the ability to wield a sword did not mean you were the strongest warrior. It was all about wits, which was the real way to win a battle, he used to say, to be able to see things the enemy couldn’t see, and to do things they thought you would never be capable of.

  That’s what Moira had to do now. She knew that Niall would expect her to stay in her chambers and either apologize to him or meekly sneak away, and in so doing confirm her guilt. He was the laird, and it was her place to throw herself upon her pride and beg for forgiveness, or accept that he was right.

  But Moira could do neither of those things. There was too much at stake for this. If she didn’t act, then Niall was liable to believe his paranoid delusions and declare war on the Monroe clan, which she was certain he would do if either Jamie or Isobel died by the malevolent hand of this sickness.

  Moira wasn’t ready to give up on pea
ce yet. While she remained Lady Calbraith and had access to the lands, she was going to make use of them and try to unravel this mystery. But first, she wanted to pay a visit to Isobel and Jamie, as she wanted them to know that she cared, even if Niall believed otherwise.

  Moira pulled on a thick dress to protect her from the cold and wrapped a shawl around her shoulders. Her face was pale and her eyes were haunted by fatigue. As she passed various servants, she noticed how they glanced at her, and she wondered how many of them had heard the fiery argument between laird and lady the previous night. However, each of them were discreet enough to not say anything, and Moira was grateful for this.

  As daylight poured in through the windows, Moira started to feel foolish about believing in spirits and dark phantoms that had cursed the clan. They were things from children’s stories, and she thought that perhaps Niall was right to dismiss them as the cause of this sickness. In the night, though, with the darkness swirling around her, spirits seemed the most natural thing to happen.

  However, as she thought about it rationally, she realized that all the bad things that had happened in her life had been the result of men rather than spirits, and that she knew how to deal with people. Spirits on the other hand, were as elusive as the wind, and Moira hoped that mortals were responsible.

  She made her way to Jamie’s room and half expected Niall to be there, but Jamie was alone, save for a rosy-cheeked maid who smiled at Moira as she entered. The maid fussed about quickly and then took a tray of food away from Jamie.

  Surprisingly Jamie hadn’t eaten everything that was on the tray, so Moira plucked a few pieces of fruit and whetted her appetite, which had returned after the sorrow had consumed everything inside her. Jamie was pale, looking like a shadow of himself. He had propped himself up on the bed, and offered a weak smile.

  “How are ye daeing, Moira?” he asked.