My Cursed Highlander (35 page)

Suddenly, an odd tickle twirled around the knobs of her spine. She shivered, warding off the eerie sensation just as the amulet hummed between her breasts.

She choked on her gasp and reached for the talisman.

"Lily can see them, but Jack cannae. He says I'm wowf. Says no one is there. I think he is a stupid laddie." Makayla's fingers wiggled their way back into Viviana's fist. "Think ye I am wowf?"

"Of course not."

"Then ye can see them?" Makayla turned back toward the clearing. They were close enough for Viviana to make out the stone markers. A burial ground.

A pale figure moved around the rock, then stilled.

Viviana trembled, studying the phantom in her head. It couldn't be real.

But she was real. A woman cloaked in a gown of blue mist not quite solid enough to hide the rock behind her. A welcoming hand reached out, palm up, and gestured them forward.

She isn't real
, Viviana told herself again, fighting a truth to fearful to accept.

"That is Janetta, my gramum."

Viviana's pulse skidded, and her toes dug into the ground. She crossed herself, even though she'd never found much comfort in the arms of the church. "We should return to Ravenhurst and fetch your father."

"Nay!" she cried. "Dadi doesnae see them." The apparition blurred behind the tears pooling in Makayla's eyes. "Ye think me a liar. Just like Jack."

"No, pixie." Viviana knelt before her and pushed the hot tears from her lashes. The crush on Viviana's heart was immeasurable. "I would never think such things. You are not a liar."

Makayla sniffled. "Then ye see them." She slammed her gaze back toward the burial ground.

Viviana didn't want to see them, but through Makayla's eyes she watched a half dozen faceless figures solidified out of the mist. "I see them and they are truly quite wonderful."

* * *

"Viviana!" Taveon yelled out the open window of his chamber. His heart pounded inside his throat as he watched his wife and daughter race toward the cliff's edge. His fingers clawed the wooden frame of the sill while terror consumed him.

"Viviana!" he bellowed again, but the wind stole her name and carried it south.

He pivoted on his heel and dashed out of the chamber in naught but his braies and chausses. The chill in the corridor did little to cool the turmoil boiling his blood. He leapt down the stairs three at a time. All he could see in his head was Viviana falling to her death over the side of the cliff, her arms reaching up to him in a useless plea for help.

Damn-it-to-hell! He should have told Makayla her new mum was blind.

He burst out the keep's doors and sprinted across the courtyard. Scotland's sharp air stabbed his throat while his muscles strained to close the distance between him and the two people who made him whole.

"Makayla!" He flailed his arms wildly, trying to catch Poppet's attention.

Then all at once they stopped. Had they heard him? Neither of them turned.

The flood of relief turned to an anger that nigh narrowed his eyes shut. When he reached them, he was going to bend them over his knee one at a time and blister their arses. Such blatant disregard for their safety had to be punished.

They were oblivious to his maddening approach, unaware of the wrath threatening to turn him into a raging beast. Hands linked, hair blowing in untamed chaos, they simply stood there and stared unmoving at the resting place of his ancestors.

"What in the name of Zeus do ye think ye are doing?" he growled when he was finally upon them.

Jarred by his words, they spun a full circle. Viviana's purple eyes looked in danger of popping from her head. "M'laird!" She held her chest. "You nigh startled me out of my skin."

When Makayla tucked herself inside the folds of Viviana's mantle, he noticed her state of undress. The woman had no wit inside that wee head of hers, traipsing about in bare toes and a damn undertunic. She would catch her death, but not before he killed her.

"I startled ye? Ouish, woman." He bent over, propped his hands atop his knees, and shook his head. Tremors rattled him to the core. A few starving breaths passed before he was able to look at either of them. He stood upright, curling his fingers into his palms. "I fear ye have taken ten years off my life."

Makayla slunk further behind his wife.

His jaw popped. "Dinnae cower behind your new mum." He pointed a finger at the space between him and Viviana. "Step out from behind her skirts so I might deliver your punishment."

"Punishment?" Viviana gasped in horror and pulled Makayla close to her hip. "Cool your temper, Scotsman. There will be no punishment delved out this day."

"Dinnae undermine my authority, else I'll deliver the swats to your backside first."

"Pish." One winged brow flicked up. If she thought for one second she could sway him with her theatrics, she was sadly mistaken. "On what grounds do you feel either of us deserve such primitive discipline?"

"On these grounds." He stabbed his finger toward the earth at their feet. He would do it. Right here. Right now. He would spank them until they knew to be more cautious.

Makayla bravely stepped out from behind Viviana, making him proud to call her daughter. Though quivering, she raised her chin to him. "'Tis my fault, Dadi. I wanted my new mum to meet them."

Them?
Taveon gave her a withering look and blew a long exhale through his nose as he bent to one knee. His ire lessened beneath pale blue eyes filling with tears and was all but depleted by the time he freed a strand of red-blonde hair caught between her lips. How did she do it? How did she make him want to throttle her in one breath and embrace her the next? "Poppet, we have discussed this before. There are no women."

"But Mum saw them. She said they were wonderful."

He glanced at Viviana and shook his head. What would posses her to encourage such lies? Frustrated, he held Makayla's chin between his thumb and forefinger. "Your new mum did not see them, Poppet. She is blind, like the elder, Hugh."

Makayla frowned up at Viviana. A maddening quiver took hold of her bottom lip as tears spilled over her cheeks in glistening rivulets. "Ye are blind?"

"
Sì,
but I—"

"Ye lied!" Makayla grabbed hunks of her kirtle and bolted out of their circle.

"Makayla," Viviana hollered and started after her, but Taveon caught her arm in a bruising grip.

"Let her go. There is naught ye can say to mend this."

Viviana's growl escalated to a full huff. She snatched her arm out of his hand and pushed him. "You ignorant buffoon." She stepped forward and pushed him again. "You barbaric-eel-sucking-nit. You demand trust, but you do not give it in return."

She certainly didn't behave like a woman in danger of receiving a sound thrashing. The woman before him was a new mum hell bent on protecting her daughter. She reared back a foot to kick him.

He side-stepped to the left and after her bare toes had followed through with her intent, he grabbed her shoulders and shook her. "Ye cannae gain Makayla's affections by acknowledging her lies."

"She does not lie. The women are there. I saw them through Makayla's eyes."

His entire body jerked. He didn't know which of the two statements shocked him more. Oddly enough, he didn't focus on the fact that Viviana believed the ghosts of his forbearers lurked mere strides away. "Ye can see though Makayla?"

"Through her, and Keegan, and mayhap even Cora-Rose."

A ridiculous bit of jealousy seeped through him. He reached for her hand, craving that special touch that bound her to him, but the connection he shared with his wife seemed somehow diluted. "Why did ye not tell me?" He brought her hand to his bare chest and flattened it over his heart, worrying over his necessity in her life, but she was in no mood to indulge his insecurity.

"I am telling you now. And I am telling you the spirits of your kin are there." She ripped her hand out from beneath his and pointed toward the open sea, but he knew where she'd intended to jam that finger.

He ignored her direction and looked over her head to study the grave markers circling the huge rock. The branches of the nearby trees swept up and down, which was impossible given the wind blew out of the north this day. His pores tingled, setting the hairs at his nape straight out. 'Twas the same feeling he'd known every time Da forced him to visit Mum's grave. He rubbed his neck, but the icy chill remained.

"Do you see them?" Her hand settled on his forearm, pulling him back to reality.

"Nay. There is nothing there."

"You do not see them because you refuse to, but Makayla sees them and because I can see through her, I saw them, too. They are there, Taveon. Makayla speaks to them. She knows their names; Elise, Margret, Morgan, Lorna, Katerina, and Janetta."

Janetta.

Taveon pinched his eyes shut. He shook his head in denial, but the latter of that list pulsed through his ears as it had when Da cried out to her at night for ten long years. Taveon never spoke of his mum to Makayla. It was impossible for her to know any of their names.

"Do you know of them?"

He nodded. "Janetta was my mum and Katerina my gramum. I dinnae even recognize the other names."

"Save for Elise." Viviana prodded him to remember.

But he needed no reminding. "Oh, Elise I know well. She is the bitch who cursed us all."

A current of wind whipped up the backside of the cliff.

"Taveon! Do not speak ill of the dead." Viviana's fingers clawed at his forearm. "Elise does not deserve your hatred."

Staring through the slits of his eyes, he searched for them, but was blind to their existence. "Come." He took Viviana's hand and started back toward the keep.

"Are you going to speak to Makayla?"

"Nay. I'm seeking out the soothsayer."

Chapter 26

Viviana rode in front of Taveon atop the mighty destrier that carried them over the wild terrain of his land. The mantle and wool kirtle she wore guarded her from autumn's sting, but foreboding had her chilled to the bone. Now regretting her decision to accompany Taveon to the soothsayer's abode, she clung to the arm curled around her waist. Oh, he'd been adamant that she not go, but she'd insisted, only gaining his agreement when she'd threatened to familiarize herself with his land in his absence.

Taveon glanced at Monroe, reminding her of the days they'd spent astride, except Remi did not ride with them and fill the air with his chatter. They no longer studied letters and talked of foolishness. Instead, Keegan rode beside, undoubtedly worrying over the fate of his wife.

Viviana held the amulet between her fingers and rubbed the smooth surfaces with the pad of her thumb. She memorized the colors; the green grasses, the beginnings of leaves changing to oranges and golds. She dreaded the loss of the talisman's power—the loss of her sight, but she now also feared for her life, a life she admitted she wanted to spend with Taveon.

He caressed her forearm and kissed her hair. "Dinnae be sad. I cannae bear it."

"I thought when the time came I would be prepared to give it up, but I realize I'm addicted to its power."

"Viviana, if there was another way, I—"

"I know," she interrupted and brought his hand to her lips. "I want for nothing more than to see an end to your curse." She'd considered telling him about the babe, telling him she had as much to lose as him, but her cowardice prevailed. Part of her feared if he received news of a son with any ounce of happiness, then she would know how he truly felt for her. Of course he was protective, but Taveon Kraig was honorable. A man of his ilk would fight to the death to protect what belonged to him. And right now she didn't know if she was any more to him than just his wife.

What she felt for him went far behind the title of Lady Kraig. It went far beyond her duty to warm his bed or be his friend. The ache in her heart was love.

A tear fell over her cheek and wobbled on her chin.

"The morrow will be better," he assured her and hugged her a little tighter, but her many fears prevented her from sharing his confidence.

They rode in silence until they came upon a cottage tucked beneath a cloak of dark trees. The setting was ominous and exactly what Viviana had envisioned.

"'Tis Noreen's home," Taveon supplied for her, as if she couldn't have come to that conclusion on her own.

Viviana sat up taller to study the cottage. A stream of white smoke curled out of the roof and was the only movement to be seen. No running brook or blowing wind cut into the eerie quiet. Not one chicken bobbed across the barren ground, nor a cat or lame mule.

It didn't surprise Viviana when their horses became agitated, but what did catch her unguarded was the sudden appearance of a child rounding the corner of the cottage holding a bundle of foxtails. Viviana couldn't help but wonder if the old crone who lived in the cottage had stolen the child.

They dismounted outside the soothsayer's threshold, and Viviana waited for the creak of a door or the thump of a walking stick, but the only sound that greeted them was the buzz of flying insects. Flies, no doubt, feasting on a dead carcass. Nothing else could describe the horrid smell which suited this setting perfectly.