“No. Well. What I didn’t tell you about Graham was that he lost his wife about two years ago. Tragic accident.”
Delilah was staring at her. “You’re not telling me —”
“Her name was Galena,” Bethany said, feeling an odd pang of grief for the lost young woman. “Guess what he called me when he saw me?”
“No,” Delilah breathed, leaning forward. “He thought you were her?”
“The spitting image, apparently. That’s where I got the idea to tell them I’d lost my memory — he kept introducing me as his wife to everyone, so I tried to use that.”
“But that means… Bethany, that means he’s…”
“What, destined to be my husband?” she said, a little sarcastically… but Delilah looked embarrassed.
“I mean, I don’t want to force anything on you… there’s nothing that says you have to be together, not if you don’t feel…”
She took a deep breath. It felt odd to admit this … but she’d come this far. “But I do feel. I feel a lot, Delilah.”
Her sister beamed… but just as quickly as the look of joy crossed her face, it faded, replaced by a stricken look. “But Bethany… he’s the enemy, isn’t he? One of Matthew’s sworn men? What are we going to do? What if he’s killed in the siege?”
“Not a problem,” she murmured, feeling a little guilty for what she’d overheard. “He surrendered this morning.”
“What!”
“Turned himself in to Donal. Told him a bunch of information about Matthew and his forces, told him to lock him up if he didn’t trust him… the whole nine yards. Fiona and Marianne are working on a magical solution to one of the potential problems he told Donal about this morning.”
“So he’s joined us! That’s brilliant!” Her eyes were glowing. “Bethany — this is amazing.”
“Yeah, but … he’s in a dungeon.” She sighed, surprised by how worried she actually felt about Graham. She’d only known him a couple of days, and most of that time he’d been her enemy… why was she feeling so protective toward him? “Donal had to lock him up.”
“But he surrendered.” Delilah was frowning, clearly bothered by this. “He came of his own accord, right? Why would Donal feel the need to lock him up?”
“There’s no way of telling that it’s not a trap, that’s all.” Bethany sighed. “It bothers me too but look at it from his point of view. Matthew could have sent Graham in to pretend to surrender, knowing that he’s got a family connection to the MacClarans — it would be a good strategic move. Definitely something I’d think of. So he’s got to be kept safe, locked up until the battle’s over at least.”
“But — he could help,” Delilah said indignantly. “He could help with the battle — fight on the walls, give us information about how best to defeat Matthew, his weaknesses. He shouldn’t be stuffed in some prison cell just because Donal doesn’t trust him —”
“I don’t trust him either, Delilah!” She lifted her hands in exasperation. “How can I? He’s been the sworn enemy of this castle for his whole life — his father tried to kill you!”
“But you’re his wife,” Delilah said simply. “Or the reincarnation of his wife, or whatever you want to say. All of us who came back through time — we wound up wildly in love with the men who were in love with our descendants. I know you don’t believe in fate or soulmates or any of that romantic crap, Bethany, and honestly, neither do I. But Gavin… he and I were meant to be. And so were Audrina and Colin, Cora and Ian, Marianne and Eamon… I’ve never seen such a collection of happy, stable marriages. He’s meant for you.”
Bethany’s heart was pounding. Could this be true? Could she let herself believe that the bizarrely strong feelings she was experiencing for Graham had something to do with fate… or with magic? With her past life, poor Galena, whose dreams she suspected she was sharing… but was she willing to risk her life, and the lives of everyone in the castle, on the idea that she and Graham were destined to be together?
“I don’t know, Delilah,” she said reluctantly, biting her lower lip and staring at the castle wall opposite. “I don’t know if we can trust him. I want to, but —”
“I’d trust him,” Delilah said, shrugging. “I’ve been here longer than you, Bethany. I’ve seen this magic work. And I know you,” she added with a broad smile. “I know how you are about dating — I always thought you’d be married to your job until you died. To see you express anything but disinterest in a man is so completely new to me… I mean, that’s got to mean something, right?”
Delilah couldn’t help but laugh, a blush rising to her cheeks. “It’s ridiculous! I shouldn’t be feeling like this. We barely spent any time together — we only made love once —”
“You what!” Delilah spluttered, reaching out to grab her wrists. “You didn’t tell me that! God, that must have been a pretty busy night —”
“Well, we’re fated lovers, aren’t we?” she demanded, half-joking… but the more she thought about it, the more it made a bizarre kind of sense. Why else had she been so drawn to him, almost from the minute she’d met him, when no man had ever caused that kind of feeling in her before? Why else would she have fallen into bed with him the way she had? Why else would she feel so convinced she could trust him, even though all her military instincts were screaming that this could be a trap? If it was anyone else, surrendering with the promise of providing information about the enemy, she’d have seen it as a trap from a mile off. But it was Graham. And her gut told her that he was someone she could trust.
“This is completely ridiculous,” she said softly, looking at Delilah, who was smiling sympathetically back at her. “I can’t begin to tell you how many basic tenets of tactical handling this goes against… “
“Somehow, I don’t think your training took magical destiny into account,” Delilah said drily. “We have to write a new rulebook, Bethany.”
“I guess so.” She took a deep breath, feeling more resolved than she had for days. “Thanks for talking this out with me, Delilah.”
“I’m your big sister. That’s my job.” She grinned. “But that’s not all we’re going to do, right?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, we’re going to go down to the dungeons to visit Graham, for one thing. I want to meet my fated brother-in-law.”
“Delilah! We met two days ago, we’re not planning a wedding —”
“Not yet,” Delilah said briskly, “but I’m definitely going to start working on it. I know the way to the dungeons. They kept Morag down there — I had a bunch of pretty hideous dreams about it, so it’s kind of burned into my memory.”
“I have dreams about Galena,” she admitted. “Dreams about how she died.”
“Yeah. They’re not pleasant. The good news is — they go away.” Delilah squeezed her hands reassuringly, smiling at her — then bounced to her feet, pulling Bethany up with her. “They go away once you’re with your beloved, so let’s go!”
“Won’t Donal be furious if he catches us — fraternizing with a prisoner?”
“He won’t catch us,” Delilah said firmly. “Besides, once we’ve visited him, our next stop is to go talk to Donal about everything that’s going on. I assume you haven’t let him in on your special relationship with the prisoner?”
“No, but —”
“If he knows that, he might trust Graham a little more. Enough to let him out of the dungeons and get him to help us, at any rate.”
Bethany’s head was spinning. This was all moving so quickly — mere hours ago, she had been resigned to never seeing Graham again, to the very real possibility that he was going to die during the siege. Now, not only was he in the castle — she was about to go and introduce him to her sister. To her surprise, she actually felt a tingle of nervousness deep in her belly. What if Delilah didn’t like him? Where would that leave their fated romance? Even that idea felt stupid, out here in the cold light of day… but like it or not, she was in a place where magic was real, witches roam
ed, and soulmates, it seemed, were also a regular occurrence. She let her mind drift back to the time she’d spent with Graham, to their explosive connection in the cave, to how it had felt to tell him the truth about who she was and where she was from…
Could she dare to allow herself to hope for a happy ending here? Was it possible that she and Graham might have a relationship beyond this war, beyond the siege, beyond the family trauma? She’d spent so much of her life planning for the worst-case scenario, trying to foresee all the awful things that could go wrong in war… there wasn’t much call for focusing on what could go right. But now, walking with her sister down a path that led around the back of a castle in medieval Scotland, she realized that it was past time to adjust her thinking.
“The dungeons are this way,” Delilah said to her in a low voice as they headed into the entrance hall, walking toward an unfamiliar doorway that led past the kitchens and into the back of the castle where Bethany hadn’t yet been exploring. “But it’d be best if nobody saw us heading this way.”
Bethany nodded, glancing around the hall. They waited until the hall emptied, which took a frustratingly long time given how many villagers were drifting in and out, then slipped through a door and into a dark, dusty passage that clearly didn’t get much use. Delilah pulled a torch from the wall, then lifted a trap door, and they started walking down a narrow, winding staircase that descended deep into the depths of the castle. The damp stone walls were lit only by the flickering torchlight, and Bethany felt an odd thrill of claustrophobia, which she did her best to fight off.
They emerged in a low-ceilinged room. As she peered around, she saw iron bars marking off maybe half a dozen crude cells, each with a low bunk and no other furniture to speak of. It wasn’t a place designed for comfort, that was for sure.
And there, at the far end of the row of cells, sitting with his shoulders hunched, was Graham MacClaran.
Chapter 25
True to his word, Donal had provided Graham with as many comforts as possible. There was a jug of water and a pitcher sitting on the floor of the cell, and several blankets as well as a well-stuffed pillow sitting alongside him on the cot. The dungeon was reasonably well lit, with a few fresh torches sitting in brackets on the walls — Bethany got the idea that these dungeons weren’t used especially often, especially in times of relative peace. There was a great deal of dust around the place, and cobwebs thick in the upper corners of the room. And though there had been attempts to make it more comfortable, Bethany knew by looking at it that this was no place to spend more than a few hours. The idea of keeping Graham down here until the siege ended was unacceptable to her, blanket or no.
It was freezing, for a start. The cold was cloying and ever-present, and there was a dampness in the air that already felt like it was creeping into her lungs and threatening to make her cough. You’d catch your death of a cold if you spent too much time down here, that was for sure, and she wasn’t interested in letting the man she was apparently destined to be with die of pneumonia before she got the chance to get to know him properly.
He rose, clearly disturbed by the sound of their footsteps, and turned, moving to the bars as he saw them. Those blue eyes widened when he recognized Bethany, and she couldn’t help but smile, even though the circumstances of this meeting were fraught… it felt really, really good to see him, safe and sound. At least, for now.
“Bethany? What on earth —”
She moved over to the bars, forcing a smile. She could feel Delilah behind her, clearly appraising the situation.
“Graham,” she said, suddenly completely unsure of what to say. “It’s — it’s good to see you.”
“So you made it safely to the castle,” he said, giving her an awkward smile. “That’s good. I wasn’t sure if you’d stay with Lord Weatherby.”
“This is home,” she said simply, tilting her head. “My home, anyway.” Should she reveal that she’d overheard his conversation with Donal? “What brings you here?”
“I’ve left Matthew’s service,” he said, his jaw tense and his blue eyes blazing with determination. “He finally went too far. I mean, I’ve had my reservations about his tactics for a long time, but… Bethany, meeting you was like being woken up from a dream. The things he does… the evil deeds I’ve stood by and observed, the times I’ve wanted to object but convinced myself that it was for the greater good… I was wrong.”
“You probably were,” she said, her heart beating harder at the proximity to him, even through the bars. “But what are you doing here?”
“I surrendered to Donal this morning,” he said. “I don’t want to be Matthew’s lackey any longer.”
“You were pretty set against coming to the castle when I suggested it,” she pointed out, a bit of resentment flaring. “What changed your mind?”
“You,” he said simply. “If a woman like you vouches for this nest of witches… well, there must be something worthy about the place, right?”
“Nest of witches?” Delilah broke in indignantly, stepping forward to take her place beside Bethany at the bars with her eyes blazing. “I’d choose my words more carefully if I were a prisoner, but that’s just me.”
“I’m sorry,” Graham said uncertainly, glancing at Bethany.
She smiled. “This is my sister, Delilah.”
“Pleased to meet you, madam. I meant no offense.”
“Well, witch isn’t necessarily a dirty word,” Delilah murmured, giving Bethany a glance that said she was being very tolerant. “When people accuse women of being witches around here, they generally mean that they know something — or are capable of something — that they don’t understand. Like basic hygiene, for example,” she muttered irritably. “If I’d have known how much trouble we’d get in for telling people to wash their hands…”
“Delilah,” Graham repeated, his eyes widening as something occurred to him. “Delilah Cortland… you’re the one. You’re the witch my father was hunting when he died.”
Delilah froze, her eyes shooting to Bethany. She took a deep breath, her mind racing. This wasn’t exactly the conversation she’d expected to have, down here in the dungeon. She’d more been expecting an apology, and an offer of whatever help he could give… but instead, Graham was staring at Delilah as though she was some kind of monster, horror and dismay fighting with one another in his eyes. His fists were clenched at his sides and his jaw was tense and all of a sudden Bethany was very glad that there were iron bars separating him from her sister.
Not that Delilah seemed particularly intimidated by the angry soldier before her. She lifted her chin, staring him down coldly as she straightened her back.
“I’m not a witch, for a start,” she said levelly, her voice low and cold. “I’ve got no magic power whatsoever. But that doesn’t mean I’ll stand by and let women who do have power be insulted. There are things here you don’t understand, Graham MacClaran.”
“Don’t call me that,” he snarled, his eyes burning. “I’m not one of you —”
“Yes, you are,” Delilah said dismissively. “You’re a MacClaran, through and through. Stubborn, committed to your convictions in the face of all logic… but you’ll come round eventually, if you’re anything like your kin.”
“My father —”
“Your father was a monster, Graham. I’m sorry to be the one to tell you that, but it’s true. Didn’t he leave you and your mother? Did you ever actually meet him?”
“No,” Graham said through gritted teeth, “but my mother told me —”
“How much time did she spend with him? He was a liar, a manipulator, and an evil man. He hated women — especially women who were stronger than him, women who knew things that he didn’t, women who didn’t need men. That was why he hated Morag… and why he killed her in cold blood, in this very room. He tried to kill my husband Gavin, too — that was why he was exiled from this place. If you ask me, he should have been killed. And when he came back, twenty years later, to kill me too — well, he deserv
ed what he got.”
“He came to stamp out witches,” Graham said stubbornly. “Witches —”
“Why? What, exactly, is a witch, Graham?”
“A woman with… with power that she uses to do harm…”
“The only people trying to do harm around here are your friend Matthew and his band of violent thugs,” Delilah snapped.
Bethany held her breath, not daring to intervene. She’d never seen her sister like this — never seen such passion in her eyes, never heard that steely tone in her voice. She was formidable. And Graham was acutely aware of it, too — he was backing away from the bars, clearly taken aback by what she was telling him.
“And I believe they have a woman on their payroll, don’t they? A woman with eldritch powers?”
“She uses those for good,” he said weakly. And Delilah’s eyes flashed with triumph.
“So you admit that power can be used for good as well as evil? That a so-called witch is only as good or bad as the things that she does — the same way that a sword can be used for good or evil, or a bow, or a mace?”
Graham was silent for a long time, his blue eyes troubled. Then, slowly, he nodded. “I suppose I hadn’t thought of it that way.”
“I suspect you haven’t thought too closely about a lot of things,” Delilah said sharply. “And if you were any other man on the planet, I wouldn’t be here, spending my time trying to educate you. But my sister…” She hesitated, glancing toward Bethany, clearly not sure how much to let on. Bethany bit her lip. “My sister has a soft spot for you,” she said finally. “So I’m willing to give you the benefit of the doubt.”
“That’s — good of you,” Graham managed, his eyes flicking toward Bethany.
She shrugged her shoulders. What had he expected, coming in here insulting the place? He’d deserved every bit of the tongue-lashing that Delilah had given him. She’d always been better with words than Bethany was.
“Right. Now, you need to decide. Are you going to join us — to help us against this assault? Or are you going to stay a prisoner with no allegiance, no home? Because Bethany and I, we’re willing to vouch for you. We’re willing to help get you out of here, but only if we have your assurance that this is the side you’ve chosen.”
Highlander Avenged: A Scottish Time Travel Romance Page 20