The child’s green eyes rose and stared at her for long moments before her sweet cherub face—so full of sadness, so full of fear—puckered and then she began to cry.
Viviana nigh ached with the need to race across the chamber and embrace the girl. She wanted to tell her all would be well, but she fought the urge to proceed with such haste and simply stepped inside the chamber, pulling the door closed behind them.
Makayla released Viviana’s hand leaving her with only her senses to guide her. While she listened to Makayla’s booted feet pad in the direction of the bed, she breathed in the scent of food, both ripe and rotted.
“Dinnae take her to her mum. Lily is afraid of the woman who lives inside her.”
Viviana found her way to the edge of the bed, cautious not to proceed too quickly for fear she would frighten the girl. “Is this true, Lily? Are you afraid of Gillian?” Viviana set her hand atop the bedding, but landed on a half-eaten loaf of bread covered in jam. At least Lily had not gone hungry.
The bed bounced, but Viviana couldn’t decipher whether the child shook her head or nodded. Lily’s mute tongue was going to make Viviana’s task most difficult. “Can you write your answer in the tablet?”
“Mum is blind, remember?” Makayla said and moments later Viviana felt the tablet slide beneath her palm.
She touched the carved wax. Sì.
“Do you know what Gillian wants?”
Again, Lily wrote in the tablet.
Viviana fingered the word, Me, and tried to hide the horror shaking her limbs.
A small hand flattened over Viviana’s fingers and her darkness passed into light, but the hand didn’t belong to Makayla. Viviana should have been surprised she could see through Lily, but she wasn’t. Somehow they were all connected.
“Lady Kraig,” Lily spoke in a tiny voice that cracked from lack of use. “Will you save my mama?”
The child trusted her enough to speak, yet the question Lily asked was most difficult to answer. “I will try, but I need your help. I need to know about the woman inside your mother, and I have little time.”
“Auntie Cora is going to die if we dinnae break the curse,” Makayla added.
Lily stared at the tablet and carved a series of deep lines into the wax. E-V-I-L. “Gillian makes Mama do things. Bad things,” she whispered the last two words.
Viviana swallowed a bout of nausea. If what Taveon said was true about the priest, she couldn’t begin to imagine what Gillian had made Sister De Rosa do in her past. In fact, she didn’t want to imagine it, nor would she ask this child to recount such heinous events.
Viviana ached with the desire to push the demons out of her innocent mind, but knew she must proceed slowly. She cupped Lily’s damp cheek and held her small hand in an attempt to gain her trust. “Lily, do you know why your mother came to Scotland?”
Hesitant now, Lily’s gaze shifted to Makayla, then slid to the floor.
“Tell her, Lily.” Makayla’s encouragement brought Lily’s gaze back to Viviana.
“Mama came to save the women.”
* * *
After seeing the silhouette of a child atop Makayla’s bed, it took every ounce of willpower Taveon possessed to remain fixed in the dimly lit corridor. He felt like a thief in his own home, lurking outside his daughter’s bedchamber, waiting.
“Damn-it-to-Hell!” He began to pace, but the sound of his weaponry clinked and clattered like a damn war. He pressed his ear to the door.
Nothing.
Of course, what had he expected? Lily was mute. And after seeing what Marea had done to Father Cambry he began to understand why.
He rubbed the back of his neck in a vain attempt to ease his tension, all the while trying to ignore the regret that nigh consumed him. The walls of his home were barren, void of paintings of whimsical fairies. Not one portrait hung above the hearth in the Great Hall, no fountains graced his courtyard, nor sculptures of nymphs frolicking with their lovers. He shouldn’t have brought Viviana here.
Ravenhurst was a cold, ugly place to live.
The click of the door jerked him out of his musings. Viviana stepped into the corridor first, followed by Makayla and Lily, both of whom were tucked tightly inside his wife’s skirts as if her cloak was a shield of protection.
He strode toward them, but Viviana held up a hand. “You will divest yourself of weaponry and keep your distance, husband. Do not place threats on either of these children, and if you so much as raise your voice, I will deny you the pleasure of my company for a sennight. I’ve a task to tend. If you can control your temper, you may accompany me.” The trio floated through the corridor and disappeared down the curved stairwell.
Taveon felt the shock on his face; brows raised, eyes round, jaw dropped. Who did she think she was? The damn queen? The bark of his own laughter caught him off guard, but was a welcome emotion given the turmoil he’d already suffered this day. Deny me the pleasure of her company will she? God, he loved that woman.
He tossed every blade that hung on his person to the floor, except the one hidden at his back, and raced down the stairwell to catch up to them. His wee wife was on a mission, and he would abide by her rules until he felt it necessary to intervene.
Keeping yards behind, he followed them out of the keep into a late morn threatening more rainfall. The sky had darkened and the winds snapped at Viviana’s cloak as she led them to the stable where they waited for Remi’s eldest to prepare two mounts on Viviana’s orders.
“Makayla, you will ride with your father.” Viviana’s instructions were delivered with cool indifference.
Poppet bobbed her head and skipped toward him, arms outstretched. He propped Makayla into the crook of his arm and kissed her nose. “What are we about?”
“We’ve a task,” she repeated Viviana’s words with a toothy smile.
“What kind of task?”
Poppet shrugged. “I dinnae know what a task is, so I cannae say for certain.”
He blew a heavy sigh. “Do ye know where we are going?”
“To Lily’s. We are going to save her mum and Auntie Cora and break the curse, and then I can love you and Mum and My Eyes and the wee kitten I have hidden in my chamber.”
Taveon scowled. His daughter needed to be reprimanded for hiding a kitten she was not allowed to have, not to mention harboring the child his kinsmen were still searching for. He opened his mouth to do just that, but Makayla smashed her fingers against his lips.
“Nay, nay, Dadi. Ye must hold your tongue, else Mum will deny ye the pleasure of her company for a sennight.” The ragamuffin giggled.
Taveon exhaled and accepted that he’d been defeated by little women. “Mayhap I will force ye into a bath as punishment. Ye smell like a pile of soggy peat.”
“Think ye Lily can bathe with me? She smells like a pile of soggy peat, too.”
“Aye,” he answered simply and watched Brodie set Lily in front of Viviana on the saddled steed. He couldn’t imagine what life was like for her. The evil that lived inside of Marea terrified him. He could only assume the child lived in constant fear.
He mounted with Makayla at his back and took the reigns of Viviana’s steed from Brodie. They passed through the aisle of tall oaks just as a rumble vibrated overhead. The approaching storm promised to be mean. He could have forced Makayla to stay behind, but suspected Viviana wanted her along as a comfort to Lily.
The sky pulsed with lightning.
‘Twas foolish to leave the safety of the keep and with bairns in tow. Taveon held his opinion between his teeth and rode in controlled silence to Marea’s cot-house.
Five of his kinsmen emerged from the wood led by Monroe. At their approach, Lily’s eyes rounded. When Viviana raised a hand and shot his kinsmen a threatening glare, Taveon realized she could see through Lily’s eyes.
Why? Why Lily? Why could Viviana see through some and not others?
Questions. There seemed to always be an abundance of questions to baffle his mind, and he grew weary of ne
ver finding answers.
A crash from the heavens issued a warning, then a chunk of the thatch roof shot upward. He dismounted and assisted Viviana off her steed, hoping she might supply some answers. “The weather is not improving. Why are we here?”
“Please, for once, will you trust me?” Teeth chattering, she raised her skirt and led Lily inside, leaving him no other choice but to follow.
He filled the entrance, nearly touching the sides of the doorframe with his shoulders. A cauldron hung above a layer of ashes in the hearth, and most likely contained the last meal Marea had cooked. The cot-house was cold and reeked of mold and another odor he now associated with Marea—the scent of death.
Another crash of thunder jarred him physically. Makayla hugged his leg.
“‘Tis just a storm, Poppet.” He cupped his hand over her damp head to protect her ears and peeked over his shoulder at the black cloud growing overhead. The horses grew agitated, nickering and pulling against the reins binding them to the single birch outside the cot-house.
Worry surpassed his curiosity. Whatever his wife sought here would have to wait until the storm passed. “Viviana, we need to return to the keep.”
She nodded her agreement, but instead of leaving, she squatted in front of Lily and tucked a strand of brown hair behind the child’s ear. Her demeanor showed calm on the front, but the tremble of her hand betrayed her. “Show me the writings.”
Lightning blinked.
“Make haste, Lily,” Makayla pleaded and squeezed Taveon’s leg a little tighter.
The thunder that erupted set Lily into motion. Taveon did nothing save for watch her retrieve a burlap sack beside a wooden kneeling bench in the corner—Sister De Rosa’s private sanctum. She dragged the sack across the floor to Viviana as wind shook the northern wall and rippled the ox hide hanging over the single window.
“M’laird?” Taveon recognized Monroe’s voice behind him. “The sky is going to break loose any moment.”
Taveon raised his hand, an order for Monroe to hold steady. They were on the brink of a discovery. He could feel it.
Lily pulled the tie loose, reached inside the sack, and withdrew a handful of folded pieces of yellowed parchment as well as bits of stained cloth, all covered with black writing.
Lily handed Viviana one of the missives, her small hand trembled with the action. Taveon wanted to coo the child and tell her all would be well, but he remained pinned in place beneath the doorframe, awaiting his wife’s instruction.
Viviana held out a shaky hand toward him. “Will you be my eyes?”
Eager to oblige, he peeled Makayla off his leg and set her beside Lily, then cupped Viviana’s elbow. He waited with impatience for her to unfold the vellum, but the flowing black letters were written in a foreign tongue. Tuscan he suspected. He recognized some of the words, but struggled to decipher whole sentences. “What does it say?”
She scanned the writings. “Prayers. They are prayers addressed to God.” She read a snippet, “Forgive Gillian for killing Noreen.”
“Who was Noreen?” Taveon stared at the words, agitated by his lack of ability to read them.
Viviana read further. “They were sisters,” she whispered.
“Gillian and Noreen?”
“No. Gillian and Elise.” Viviana raised her face to Taveon. “Mayhap we can learn more about Gillian through Sister De Rosa’s missives.”
Taveon looked at the pieces of parchment stuffed inside the sack, hundreds of them. His pulse kicked up a notch. Did he dare hope the answer to ending the curse lie within Marea’s writings? And if so, would he be brave enough to see it through?
A crescendo of pops fell atop the roof. Shite! “We need to return to the keep.” Taveon knotted the ties safeguarding the answers he’d sought the whole of his life and wrapped the sack with a wool he retrieved from the bed. He bound the bundle with rope and fastened it to Monroe’s horse. “Ride quickly, my friend. We will meet ye back at the keep.” He slapped the steed’s rump and then set Makayla atop his seneschal’s horse. “Ye ride back with Gareth.” Taveon handed his trusted kinsman the reigns of the second steed then faced Viviana. “Ye and Lily will ride with me.”
It was not a request, but an order. One his wife thankfully didn’t argue. With Viviana and Lily secured in front of him, he kicked the destrier into a gallop.
“The host,” he barely heard Viviana’s words over the wind and pummel of hooves. She twisted slightly at the waist to gain his ear. “Sister De Rosa referred to a host. I thought she meant the Communion loaf, the Eucharist.”
“And now?”
“Sister De Rosa is the host.” She pulled Taveon closer to protect Lily and whispered, “The host must die to end the curse.”
Chapter 30
“Gillian and Elise were born twins, but their father believed the second babe to be evil and had his kinsmen dispose of her in a brook. The witch who lived in the cot-house found Gillian and raised her as her own.” Viviana squeezed Taveon’s hand beneath the desk as she summarized Sister De Rosa’s writings to those gathered in a small library.
Cora-Rose stood from her seat beside Keegan and replaced the tallow atop the desk. “And having been raised in the vein of evil, Gillian killed Noreen, then sought out to pay Elise undue vengeance.”
Viviana nodded her agreement to Cora-Rose’s speculation. For hours they’d sifted through the missives until noontide had turned to dusk and beyond. Bit by bit they’d pieced together information tying Gillian to the curse.
Taveon stared at the missives piled atop the desk, half of them still unread. “Gillian’s original intent was to torment her sister, but when Elise cursed Kael and all those who possessed his blood—”
“Gillian seized the opportunity.” Keegan finished and gaped at the floor. “The witch thought herself clever to turn her sister’s heated words into a curse that would ruin her perfect life.”
Viviana couldn’t imagine the shock Gillian must have felt upon realizing she’d unknowingly condemned herself. This thought gave Viviana pause for she was currently living in the same state of shock.
Keegan’s bark of laughter felt misplaced. “Think ye the stupid bitch would have broken her own curse.”
“She is evil.” Taveon withdrew another missive filled to its edges with prayers and set it in front of Viviana.
She studied the writings as best she could, but the illness in her head and belly threatened to overcome her. Her task had not been an easy one. Not only was the babe making her ill, but so were Sister De Rosa’s words. True, they were uncovering a great deal of information, but Viviana was also learning about the horrid things Gillian forced Sister De Rosa to do. There had been an entire list of the men the nun had fornicated with until she’d conceived Lily—more than one of the men listed were monks from San Marco monastery, and Sister De Rosa prayer for each and every one of their souls.
Viviana chose not to expose the woman’s sins unless it was absolutely necessary. She had been Gillian’s pawn, and Viviana wanted to weep for her, but she tamped down her emotions and focused on the words Taveon pointed at: Eseguito per l’eresia.
“What does this mean?”
“Executed for heresy.” Viviana explained and rubbed her temples.
“Who was executed?” With every missive, Keegan seemed to grow more impatient.
“Please give me a moment.” Viviana snapped. “Not only was I illiterate up until a fortnight ago, I’m reading the information through my husband’s eyes.” The air in the library had thickened to the point she could barely breathe.
Taveon kissed her hair. “Ye are doing verra well, sweetling. I’m thankful I taught ye the letters.”
Pish! There was that word, again. Thankful. Viviana knew he intended his words to be soothing, but they were not. Now pouting, she stared at Sister De Rosa’s writing. Long minutes later, she translated, “Kael imprisoned Gillian in the dungeon with intentions of burning her.”
“And did he?” Keegan’s question left his mouth b
efore Viviana could finish.
She shook her head. “Gillian escaped with the amulet.”
“Escaped? How? Where did she go?” Keegan asked.
Caprese. Taveon’s gaze held on the city located east of Firenze. “To Italy,” he supplied and then pointed at a name: Antonia di Tommaso Buonarroti. “Who is she?”
“Gillian’s daughter. Antonia di Tommaso Buonarroti,” Viviana read further. “Antonia gave birth to another daughter; Evalina di ser Piero Simoni.” The list went on. Gillian’s descendants married aristocrats who’d held political roles in Italy for decades. Viviana recognized the surnames. They were the same names that succeeded Angelo’s.
“Mannaggia!” Viviana inhaled deeply as she linked this new information together. “Angelo is a descendant of Kael Kraig.”
“Who in the name of Christ is Angelo?” Keegan ripped his fingers through his dark hair.
Taveon stabbed his brother a look. “I grow weary of your impatience. Still your tongue.”
“But we are learning nothing of substance. Nothing that will end the curse.”
“We are learning about the amulet and its power,” he countered. “Angelo was the first to provide my wife with sight.”
“Because of his blood.” Cora-Rose added from her place at the window in a voice filled with revelation. “‘Tis all in the blood. The amulet allows Gillian to transfer from one host to another. ‘Tis why she wants the amulet as well as Lily. As long as Gillian’s spirit resides among the living, the curse will continue, and I will die.”
“No!” Keegan leaned over the desk. His green eyes narrowed to slits on his brother. “Marea must die.”
Viviana swallowed hard and wiped the perspiration from her brow. The woman had been like a mother to her and Fioretta, and while Viviana had felt betrayed by her abandonment, she now understood why Sister De Rosa left Spedale degli Innocenti.
My Cursed Highlander Page 30