Mara closed her eyes again and held out her other hand to Billie.
Billie was torn, too. A part of her rejected the drama of a joust with the supernatural after a day filled with more than enough excitement. She had come to Scotland to lick wounds, not to have more inflicted.
“Billie?”
Billie had been drawn to Mara at first sight. Now she couldn’t make herself refuse the woman who already seemed like a friend. After mere days in the home of her ancestors, Billie was already up to her ears in intrigue.
She grasped Mara’s hand, but she didn’t know what to expect. She had a cousin with the odd ability to find lost items and sometimes even people. Billie had seen his ability demonstrated more than once, but those experiences had been nothing like this.
Mara was silent for so long that Billie began to wonder if whatever she had experienced had already faded away. As Mara continued to sit silently with her eyes closed, Billie glanced up at Iain. He was frowning, but as if he felt her gaze on his face, he turned. The moment his eyes met hers, Mara began to speak.
“You had ancestors…many hundreds of years ago. Billie…” Mara was silent. “I’ve no name for her. Your ancestor.” She looked increasingly troubled. Her lovely face was suddenly twisted by sorrow. “She was a bonny lassie, brave and intelligent. Spirited, like you, Billie. The pride of her father’s heart. The joy of her mother’s days. She was protected by…brothers.”
She was silent again for nearly a minute, struggling with sadness. A tear ran down her cheek when she finally continued. “She was to marry her cousin, who she did no’ love, but that was no’ so important in those times. She looked forward to raising strong, courageous sons and having a good and useful life.”
“Mara,” Iain said, turning his gaze from Billie, “don’t go on if this troubles you so.”
“And your forefather, Iain. He was good and brave, the best at all he ever tried. He was to lead his clan when his father died. They were never supposed to meet, those two. Their families were in conflict. They were…enemies.”
Mara rested her head against the back of her chair. For a moment she seemed too upset to go on. Billie waited. Beside her, Iain was obviously uneasy.
“She walked one day, beside the loch,” Mara said. “She was with her maids, and there were men to guard them.” She opened her eyes. “I dinna know what to call them. I know nowt about this time. I have no’ the right words.”
“That’s all right,” Billie said. “It doesn’t matter.”
Mara stared at her, and Billie had the strangest feeling that she was seeing someone else. “Her women were attacked by men from Iain’s family. The guards were overcome. The maids were…thrown to the ground and…” Her face expressed her horror.
“Don’t go on with this, Mara,” Iain said sharply. He tried to withdraw his hand, but Mara held it tightly in hers.
“She jumped in the water to drown herself. It was better….”
Billie shuddered. Suddenly it was as if she were there. She could imagine the horror of that moment, of a medieval woman with so few choices that drowning herself was the best of them. She could hear the screams of the women on shore, feel the cold water closing over her head, just as it had this morning. For a moment she couldn’t breathe again. Then she felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up to see Iain staring at her. She gulped for air. She didn’t know how much time had passed, but concern shone in his eyes.
“She was rescued,” Mara said. “As she was drowning, for she could no’ swim, she was rescued by your ancestor, Iain. He came upon the scene and stopped the violation of the women. And when he saw the lady in the loch, he dove in to rescue her.”
Billie wasn’t a seer, but she could read Iain’s thoughts. A part of that history had repeated itself today.
“His men were gone when he came out of the water carrying her. They knew he would be furious, for in spite of the feud between the clans, he was no’ a man for violence. He revived her. When she opened her eyes and saw him, she knew he would no’ hurt her. They looked at each other and knew they were destined to love each other always.”
Iain shook his head, as if such romantic nonsense was incomprehensible to him. But his eyes were still wary.
“And it was then, as they stared at each other and saw how their fates were intertwined, that her cousin, her betrothed and his men, came upon them. They would have put your ancestor to death, Iain, but the lady begged them to spare him. She told the story of how he had saved her, and as a gift, her cousin set your ancestor free. But he was told that he must never show his face to her again or he would die a terrible death.”
Billie was entranced—and skeptical. She was also aware that Iain hadn’t removed his hand from her shoulder.
“Is there more?” he asked, after Mara had been silent for a long time.
“Aye, there’s more, and none of it is clear to me.” Tears filled her eyes. “But there is such pain there, such sadness.”
“Damn it, I don’t understand why you have to go through this!” Duncan crossed the room, knelt and took Mara in his arms. “I don’t understand why it has to be you!”
“Because it does,” Mara said simply.
“Mara.” Billie put her hand on Mara’s knee. “I know what you’ve just experienced is very real to you, but could it just be a twist on what’s happened to Iain and me today? A story suggested by everything that’s gone on since we met? The rescue from the loch, the fight with Jeremy, and my saving Iain from having his head bashed in. Can you always tell the difference between what’s real and what your imagination suggests?”
Mara smiled sadly. “Always.”
Billie looked to Iain for confirmation that she was on the right track. He shook his head, as if to warn her not to say more.
“This isn’t to be discussed outside this room,” Duncan said. “Mara’s earned the respect of people in the village, but the less said about her second sight, the better. I don’t want her to become the village fortune-teller and sideshow freak.”
“Then you think this really happened?” Billie looked from man to man. Iain didn’t even acknowledge her question. Duncan shrugged noncommittally.
Mara slipped her hand from Iain’s and used it to cover Billie’s. “You know it happened, Billie dear. For a moment, you saw it, too. The story’s buried deep inside you. In the same way birds fly a thousand miles to nest where their ancestors have nested before, you’ve come back to find answers here in Druidheachd. Each of us has the secrets of generations inside us. And it’s time for your secrets to be revealed.”
Mara looked up and focused on Iain. “And yours, Iain. The time’s arrived to put the agony of centuries behind you, too. The time has finally arrived.”
* * *
Iain drove a vintage Jaguar, a car designed decades before for comfort and durability. The leather interior had spiderweb cracks that added to the ambience of money so old it had faded and decayed from the touch of a thousand hands. Billie snuggled against the seat and watched him drive. He had magnificent hands, long-fingered and broad. She was fascinated by the only ring he wore, a worn circle of plaited yellow and white gold, a wedding ring, from the looks of it, but worn on the right hand instead of the left.
“I’ve had the strangest day,” she said at last.
He laughed. There was no humor in it. “Are you going to report Fletcher?”
“Probably not formally, since it will just be his word against mine. But it might be good to let your bobby know what happened, in case he threatens me again.”
“I’m going to be sure he doesn’t.”
“Don’t, Iain. I don’t want you involved anymore. Apparently you two have enough going on between you without me to add fuel to the flames.”
“What do you think about Mara’s story?”
“How much of it have you heard before?”
He glanced at her. “What do you mean?”
“I mean you didn’t seem overwhelmed with surprise. You’ve heard at least so
me of it before. Maybe Mara has, too, and just doesn’t remember. Maybe she’s just repeating something that’s already circulated.”
“Then you think she’s telling lies?”
She was outraged. For a moment she couldn’t speak; then her words tumbled out. “Absolutely not! I don’t go around accusing people I like of lying. I’m talking about the power of suggestion. That’s all. And I don’t appreciate your jumping to the worst conclusion!”
“You’ve a temper. Why am I not surprised?”
“Because nothing surprises you, you’re so indifferent and arrogant and superior!”
He flashed her a smile that could have slain a dragon at fifty paces. “And you’re so incapable of keeping a single thought to yourself.”
“You might be surprised.”
“Are you admitting to deep, dark secrets, Billie? Under that utterly adorable exterior, is there a teeming, roiling pit?”
“Why not? Are you trying to corner the market?”
He laughed. For a moment she struggled to hang on to her outrage; then, reluctantly, she smiled in response. “Well, I don’t stay angry long.”
“And I don’t stay indifferent, arrogant and… What was the last?”
“Superior.”
“Superior for long, either. In fact, I’ve never thought I was superior.”
“Iain, anyone would look at you and just assume that everything’s always come easily to you.”
“Then everyone would be wrong.”
She leaned back against the seat again. “What did you think of Mara’s story? You neatly maneuvered me into a fight so you wouldn’t have to comment. Have you heard it before? Does it have to do with the curse?”
“It’s a story. Nothing more.”
“A true story?”
He was silent.
“You believe it, don’t you?”
“How can I answer that? I wasn’t alive eight hundred years ago. I wasn’t there to witness that day or any other.”
“But you trust Mara’s gifts.”
“Let’s just say I’ve seen some surprising results.”
“Iain, what do you know?”
“I know that we’ve arrived at Flora’s house.” Iain stopped the car in front of the little stone cottage. “And she’s left a light on for you.” He got out before she could answer and came around to open her door.
There was nothing to do except get out. She stood beside the car and faced him. “My visa will expire before I find out anything else, won’t it?”
“I don’t know.”
She admired his face in the moonlight. He had the strong yet refined bone structure of a thousand years of good Highland breeding and the cynical brow of a Regency rake. But it was his eyes that entranced her, eyes that saw everything and mirrored nothing inside him.
Had an ancestor of hers looked at an ancestor of his this same way once upon a time? Had she gazed into eyes as blue and known that their destinies would forever be entwined?
Somehow, at that moment, it didn’t seem impossible.
“I’d better go inside.” She didn’t move.
“I’ll walk you to the door.”
“That’s not—”
“I’ll walk you,” he said firmly.
They moved quietly through Flora’s front garden. The swaying, flowerless stalks of foxglove and delphinium were ghostly outlines against a pale stone fence. Billie stopped beside the door. “If I say thank you, you won’t even be sure for what, will you?”
He smiled. “I couldn’t follow that.”
“There’s so much to say thank you about.”
“Don’t say it at all, and I won’t be confused.”
She knew she was supposed to go inside. She didn’t move. “I’m sorry I snapped at you.”
“Billie.” He sighed. He reached up to stroke her cheek. She felt the touch in other, less visible parts of her body. “You’re an unexpected complication in a very simple life,” he said.
“There’s nothing complicated about me and nothing simple about you.”
“My life is simple. I want nothing from it.”
“How odd.” She leaned forward. His fingers wove into her hair. She rested her hands on his shoulders. She planned to kiss him on the cheek. It seemed appropriate. It seemed an ordinary thing to do, considering everything they had weathered together that day. She rose on tiptoe. His eyes held hers as she leaned toward him.
She found his lips where his cheek had been. They were cool and dry, and she had never experienced any touch so powerful before. She caught her breath, but she didn’t move away. He abandoned her hair and wrapped his arms around her to draw her closer.
The wind caressed her back, but Iain’s arms shielded her. He was hard against her, unrepentantly male and unrepentantly aroused. She burrowed what little softness she had against him. His taste was familiar and yet wildly, powerfully new. She had kissed him a million times and never before. Her lips parted, and she knew the sweetest satisfaction of her life when his tongue touched hers.
He drew away from her then, although his arms still encircled her. “Billie.” He rested his cheek against her hair.
“I guess this is a little sudden.”
“More than a little.” He stroked her back, wide, gentle circles that were more arousing than soothing.
She could almost feel regret stealing through him. “By any chance are you wishing that you hadn’t jumped into the loch today?”
“I could do no less than Ruaridh.”
“Ruaridh?”
He was silent.
“Iain, was Ruaridh your ancestor?”
“It’s time for you to go in now. Flora will be worried about you.”
“You have heard the story before.”
“Not exactly as I heard it today.” He set her away from him. “I’ve never heard any part of it that made the Rosses less than perfect.”
“Will you tell me what you’ve heard? Someday?”
“I’ll be going away tomorrow. I don’t know when I’ll be returning.”
“Away?”
“Aye.”
“I see.” His absence had something to do with her. She didn’t need to have second sight to know that.
“I’ll have a word with Fletcher before I go. He won’t trouble you again.”
“And you won’t, either,” she said sadly.
“Do what you have to do here, Billie, then go back home to America. There’s always been trouble in Druidheachd for the MacFarlanes.”
“And for the Rosses?”
“For the Rosses most of all.” He touched her cheek. His fingers lingered for a moment; then he turned.
She watched him walk away. The wind seemed colder by the moment. Even after the sound of his car had faded, she stood in the same spot and watched winter come to Druidheachd.
CHAPTER 6
No matter what she was doing, Flora stopped for a cup of tea precisely at eleven o’clock each morning. A week after Billie had begun to board with her, Flora had invited her to partake in the ritual. Billie knew it was a sign of approval. Flora had sons who lived nearby, grandchildren and great-grandchildren and neighbors who frequently stopped in to chat with her or take her to do errands. But she had always taken her tea alone until Billie came to stay.
At the beginning of December Billie came back from the village with freshly baked scones from the Sinclair Hotel and a jar of raspberry jam that Mara had given her that morning. In the past month she and Mara had become good friends, and this morning Billie had news to tell about her.
“Look what I have.” She set her booty on the kitchen counter, along with the bottle of fresh cream she had bought at Cameron’s, the grocery store-post office-community center that was the heart of all gossip and industry in the village.
Flora lifted the bag of scones and peeked inside. “Just the thing.”
Flora weighed all of eighty pounds, but she had the appetite of a weight lifter. Billie imagined that Mr. Daniels had gone to an early grave just tryi
ng to keep his wisp of a wife fed.
“I’ve got more,” Billie said.
“Do ye?”
“Gossip.” Billie hissed the word slowly, savoring it on her tongue.
“I knew ye’d be good for something, lass, when I agreed to let ye board with me.”
“I’m delighted I’ve fulfilled your expectations.”
“Well, sit down and let me pour. Then we’ll have at it.”
The kitchen was only large enough for two. Billie took her customary seat beside a window rimmed by a stone ledge filled with wintering geraniums. From the window she could see Flora’s side garden, a thicket of shrub roses, ivy and evergreens sparkling with snow.
Flora arrived to pour tea into Billie’s cup. “First, ye’ve a letter from home. Steuart’s wife brought it with my mail this morning.”
“They told me at Cameron’s. I’ll bet it’s from my mother. She still hasn’t given up trying to get me home for Christmas.”
“But ye will no’ be going?”
Billie thought about home, about sunny December days and the close-knit family she hadn’t seen for months. “Well, I can’t now. I’ll be busy a few days before Christmas.”
“Will ye, now?”
“Yes. I’m going to be in a wedding.”
Flora took her own seat. Her dark eyes snapped with excitement. “A wedding?”
“Now, if I treated you the way you treat me, Flora, I’d smile and lift a brow and say something wonderfully enigmatic. I ought to do that, just to teach you a lesson.”
“But yer no’ me, lass. So dinna waste another moment.”
“Duncan and Mara are getting married, and she’s asked me to be her attendant.”
“Past time, it is!”
“Apparently Duncan and Mara think so. They’re furiously making their plans.”
“And yer included.”
“It probably seems a little strange, but I feel like I’ve known Mara all my life. And Duncan’s a dear. I feel honored to be asked.”
“A few days before Christmas.” Flora began on her scone. “Aye, the time’s right. A good wedding always takes place between Martinmas and the New Year.”
“This will be a good one.” Billie hesitated. “It’s going to be at Fearnshader, Flora, or rather, at an old chapel on the grounds.”
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