Claimed by the Highlander (21 page)

Slowly he approached, taking in her overall appearance, while avoiding the obvious reason for her arrival, which he was not yet ready to confront.

Her russet-colored hair was tidy and clean. It fell past her shoulders in rich, curly waves. If not for the tattered woolen gown of faded umber and the complete absence of jewels, she would look as proud and superior as any woman of noble heritage. Everything about her conveyed an impression of pompous arrogance, but it was all a pretense. A clever affectation. For her upbringing was anything but regal.

Having been born with an unnatural gift of sight, she had spent the whole of her life as a social outcast, living in a grubby thatched hut on the outer fringes of the world. Her notoriety as a witch had even reached the Scottish mainland. People feared and despised her. Some said she had the mark of the devil etched on her skin, while others pitied her and prayed for her mad, tragic soul.

Her family origins were unknown. She was raised on the Western Isles by an eccentric old woman who died when Raonaid was eleven. Whether or not the woman was her mother, no one knew—not even Raonaid, who chose to remain on the islands after her caregiver’s death, seeking comfort in her strange collection of bones and potions. Eventually she matured into a resourceful young woman—attractive and sexually alluring—but no man wanted her, nor did she offer herself to anyone.

Her only comforts and pleasures came from her visions in the stone circles. Sometimes she saw the future. Other times she saw herself living a parallel life in a different world.

Until Angus entered her life.

He had not feared her, as others did.

Dabbing at her mouth with a napkin, Raonaid set down her spoon. She slid off the stool and approached him.

He had not forgotten how beautiful she was. A man could stumble and fall into that lush cleavage and disappear for a year.

“It took you long enough,” she said. “Do you know what your guards put me through? They weren’t even going to let me through the gates.”

Lachlan interrupted. “They won’t make that mistake again, Raonaid. They know who you are now, and won’t soon forget you.” He nudged Angus in the side. “She told one of the guards that she was seeing his future, and he should expect all his hair to fall out before Christmas.”

Angus shook his head. “Raonaid, if you’d been patient, I would have come to greet you properly.”

“Just listen to you,” she said, with a snide look in her eye.

Returning to the table, she picked up her spoon and resumed eating.

Angus and Lachlan stood in silence, watching her.

“Is that it?” Lachlan whispered, leaning close. “After smashing half the kitchen to bits, that’s all she’s going to say to you?”

Angus watched her for a long, tense moment, then approached. “What brings you here, Raonaid? You said you’d never leave the islands, and you also said you were overjoyed to see the arse end of me when I left.”

“I was,” she replied, “and I don’t want you back, if that’s what you think. I came here because of what I saw in the stones.”

A cold knot tightened in his stomach. Raonaid’s strongest visions had always come from the standing stones at Calanais. She was often drawn to them by dreams. It was there she had seen his father’s death, predicted Lachlan’s arrival, and foretold Angus’s ultimate triumph over the MacEwens at Kinloch.

He recalled also, however, a promise he had forced her to make—that if she ever saw
his
death in the stones, she would come to him.

“Are you here to fulfil your pledge?” he asked.

“Aye.”

He swallowed hard, then spoke matter-of-factly. “When? How much time do I have?”

“Weeks. Maybe a month, at most.”

He had often wondered how he would react to the knowledge of his imminent death. He’d imagined he would accept it with a sense of calm, for he was not without courage. He was a warrior, and had lived a violent existence. For that reason, he always imagined his life would end in an instant, and there would be no time to contemplate much of anything.

In this strange moment, however, he could think of only one thing—Gwendolen—and how he was not yet ready to leave her. He had only just found her, and what if he had put a child in her womb? He could not leave this world if he was about to become a father. He could not leave them alone.

A terrible panic erupted inside him, and he had to fight against the overwhelming urge to vault over the table and shake Raonaid senseless, to demand that she confess that this was a trick—a cruel joke for her own twisted amusement. But he knew she would never leave the Hebrides and journey across the Highlands for a mere moment’s entertainment. She was not that easily amused.

“How much do you know?” he asked. “How will it happen?”

She slid off the stool and sauntered around the table. “You’ll die by the noose,” she told him.

Willing himself to remain calm, he rested a hand on the hilt of his sword. “Will I be taken to Fort William? Or Edinburgh? Will I be charged with treason as a Jacobite?”

“I cannot answer why. All I know is that it will happen here. I couldn’t have told you that until I passed through the gates. I recognized it immediately—the four corner towers, the rooftop and battalions. I saw it all in the stones.”

Here? No … It could not be … It had to be a mistake.

“Who is responsible?” he asked. “Is there a traitor here? Is it Gordon MacEwen?”

Raonaid rested a warm, slender hand on his cheek, and regarded him with an expression of pity.

That, he could not tolerate.

“Dammit, woman.
Speak!
”

“You are betrayed by your wife,” she explained. “I saw that in the stones, too.”

Angus slowly backed away from her. “Nay,” he said. “It is another woman. Not her.”

“It
is
her,” Raonaid insisted. “Unless you are sharing your bed with someone else. Are you?”

“Of course not.”

“Then it is her. The stones never lie. I saw you making love to her, and then I saw them drag you away.”

“Who?” he asked in a threatening voice. “Who drags me? I must know.”

“I wish I could tell you that, Angus. Truly I do, but your enemies have hid themselves well. They would not show their faces.”

He took hold of her arms and shook her. “What of their clothes? Were they redcoats? Or did they wear the tartan of the MacEwens?”

“I told you, I do not know those details! All I know is that
she
disarms you. She breaks you down, weakens you, and invites them in. You must leave this place, Angus.”

Lachlan grabbed hold of his arm. “Don’t believe her. She’s mad.”

Angus shook him away. “I cannot ignore her prophecies. Too many of them have come to pass. I never would have returned to claim Kinloch if she had not seen my father’s death, predicted your arrival, and promised me a great triumph.”

“But we need you here,” Lachlan argued. “You cannot let a witch drive you out, in fear of your own death.”

Angus started for the door. “I fear nothing, and I have no intention of deserting my clan. But I will not accept that I will be dead in a month. I will do what I can to prevent it.”

Raonaid followed him and offered a quiet piece of advice. “Practice with your sword,” she said. “Stay strong. Be the warrior you were born to be. Do not let yourself become weak or distracted.”

After Angus left the kitchen, Raonaid stood in the arched doorway watching him go, then turned and faced Lachlan. He stalked toward her and pulled her roughly up against him.

“I want you to listen to me,” he said in a low growl, “and listen very carefully, witch. If you have come here to stir up deceit and treachery, I will not stand for it. I will hunt you down, wherever you are, and I will slit your throat.”

Raonaid laughed in his face. “Go ahead and try,” she spat. “But I won’t die by
your
sword, Lachlan MacDonald.”

“Nay?” His gaze dipped lower to her moist, full lips and ample bosom, then lifted again. “Tell me, then. Whose sword will end your sorry life, Raonaid? I’ll want to congratulate the man.”

She pushed him away, then hauled back and punched him across the jaw. He cursed and doubled over in pain.

“No man will ever have that honor,” she said. “Because I will live a long and happy life. Then, when my time comes, I will die in my sleep—a very old and wealthy woman.”

Lachlan wiped his bloodied lip with the back of his hand, and worked his jaw back and forth to ensure it wasn’t broken. “You are insane,” he said. “You always were.”

She scowled at him. “You’re just angry because I wouldn’t lift my skirts for you that night in the tavern. I’m the only woman alive who didn’t fall prey to your handsome face and teasing charms.”

He glanced down at the blood on the back of his hand and headed for the door. “Thank God for small mercies.”

*   *   *

Gwendolen whirled around when the door to the weaving room swung open and slammed shut. Angus walked in and looked around at the three MacEwen clanswomen. Two were seated at spinning wheels. The third was sitting by the loom.

“Leave us,” he commanded. They took one look at the fire in his eyes, rose from their stools, and scurried out of the room while the wheels were still turning.

“What’s going on?” Gwendolen asked.

He crossed toward her, scrutinizing her face and every inch of her body from head to foot. “Are you going to betray me?”

“I beg your pardon?” Her temper flared. “Of course not!”

“Swear it on your life,” he said.

“Of course I swear it!”

The wheels finally stopped turning, and he glowered at her in the quiet stillness of the room.

“I don’t understand,” she said, as he began to pace. “Why are you asking me this? I made a promise to you before our wedding day. I pledged my allegiance. What makes you doubt it?”

He picked up a ball of wool thread and tossed it into the air. “I have reason to believe that you want me dead, lass, and that you’ll be responsible for my head in a noose, right here at Kinloch. Are you conspiring with Gordon MacEwen? Were you the one who told him where the key was?”

She couldn’t believe what she was hearing, but her shock was short-lived as fury took its place. “You are insane. Who told you this?”

“Never mind who told me. Answer the question.”

She moved around a spinning wheel and approached him. “I am not conspiring with Gordon MacEwen. How could I be, when he is locked up in prison? I am loyal to
you
. I don’t want you to die. I want you to live. Especially now that…”

She stopped. She couldn’t say it. Not now. This was not how she’d imagined it.

“Especially now that what?” he asked.

She shook her head and deflected the question. “I don’t understand you. Is it because of what happened a fortnight ago, when that man tried to kill you? Has there been some development?”

“Nay.”

“Then what is it? You know you have my loyalty, Angus. Don’t you? Can you not feel it?”

He watched her with dark, threatening mistrust as she moved closer to him. “Are you like your mother?” he asked. “Are you some puppet master who uses sex to turn a man into a blathering idiot?”

Panic rose up inside her. “No! And I don’t understand where this is coming from. Why do you suspect me of these things? If someone has said something to smear my name, then they are trying to sabotage this marriage and the union of our clans. Do you not see that?” She took his face in her hands. “I have come to care for you, Angus, and we have shared many pleasures together. All I want is to live a long and happy life with you, here at Kinloch. You must believe me. I will never betray you.”

He stared into her eyes with ice-cold bitterness.

“You don’t believe me.” She backed away. “Someone has turned you against me. Who has made these accusations? You owe me the truth, at least, if you intend to brand me as a traitor.”

A muscle clenched at his jaw, then he walked to the window. “Raonaid is here.”

Her belly began to churn. “The oracle? The woman who shared your bed in the Hebrides?”

What in the world had she said to him? And
why
did she come here? What did she hope to achieve?

“Aye,” he replied, “but she shared more than my bed, lass. She shared her visions, as well, and I saw that they were real. She foretold my father’s passing, and Lachlan’s arrival, and my triumph here at Kinloch. When I left her, I made her promise that if she ever saw my death, she would come to me and warn me of it.” He faced her squarely. “She has seen it, lass, and she has held true to her word. That is why she is here.”

Not yet ready to believe this, Gwendolen moved to stand before him. “What exactly did she see?”

“My head in a noose. She also told me that a woman would betray me.” He scrutinized her expression closely. “That woman will be you.”

Gwendolen digested this information.
A noose. A woman would betray him
 …