They could only walk two abreast up the stone steps leading into the castle, so Rose fell behind. William heard Roderick say to her in a low voice, “Your betrothed wrote.”
There was a sharp intake of breath, then Rose hissed, “Wrote who? Have you been reading my correspondence?”
“No. He wrote your father, worried because he hadn’t received a letter from you in some time. So I wrote to him and told him what you’d done.”
Rose let out a long, angry breath. Dread sunk like a stone in William’s gut. He knew what was coming next.
“He wrote back immediately,” Roderick said. “He should be here any day now.”
They entered the great hall, but Rose did not return to William’s side, hanging back to walk with her uncle. “Why? You knew where I was. There was no reason to send for him.”
Wallace separated from their party, heading for the kitchen, and William took that opportunity to glance over his shoulder at Rose and her uncle. Roderick shrugged innocently. “I didn’t tell him to come. His reply was verra short. Methinks you’ve angered him.”
Rose’s eyes were narrowed, her mouth a thin, angry line. “No,you’veangered him. He didn’t need to know.”
“He’s to be your husband. Methinks he needs to know the trouble he’s buying.”
They gathered before a door, and Roderick left off haranguing Rose. Her face had drained of color, but when she caught William’s look, she smiled encouragingly. He was no more pleased to hear of MacPherson’s impending arrival than she was, but for vastly different reasons.
Before the earl could knock on the door, William touched Rose’s arm. “Will you see to Deidra? I don’t want her to watch.”
“Gillian?” Rose said, trying to take Deidra’s hand. “Will you take Miss Deidra to her chambers?”
“No, Da,” Deidra said under her breath, hugging his arm and shaking her head vigorously at Rose, curls bobbling.
William knelt before her and put his hands on her arms. “It’s been a long trip,” he said gently. “The countess will see that you’re washed, fed, and given a nap. Rose and Drake will come to see you soon.”
Deidra’s eyes widened with panic, and she threw herarms around his neck. “No, Da, no! There are bad things here! Please—the animals are afraid, they say there is a bad man here.”
William looked quickly at the earl and Roderick, his heart skipping a fearful beat. The earl merely raised a curious brow at Deidra’s ravings, but Roderick’s brows lowered in irritation. “What is this rubbish? Bad men?”
“It’s nothing.” William took his daughter by the shoulders and stared into her eyes. “Remember what we spoke of, Squirrel?”
She swallowed and nodded, her eyes swimming with tears.
The countess knelt beside them, touching Deidra’s curls gently. “What bonny hair you have! I have a poppet with curls like yours. Would you like to see it?”
Deidra looked from William to the strange woman, then nodded.
She took possession of Deidra’s clammy hand and gave William a reassuring smile. “She’ll be fine.”
When they were gone, the earl pushed the door open. They all filed in, William and Drake last. Thick Turkish carpets covered the floor of the large room. Fires blazed in both fireplaces, and candles were lit all over the room, making it brighter and warmer than the hall they’d just left. The smell of sickness was strong beneath the masking fragrance of lavender.
A fur-covered bed was central to it all, set on a raised dais. William studied the room’s occupants. Another woman and three men. One of the men was enormous, black-haired, heavy-browed and burly. Rose introduced him as Hagan Irish. The woman was Rose’s eldest sister,Isobel—another lovely woman, this one with a mass of red-gold curls secured at her nape. She inspected him with narrowed pale-green eyes. Her husband was Sir Philip Kilpatrick, another large man who was cordial enough, if a bit suspicious. And last was a young blond man, Stephen Ross. He limped over, using a shiny black cane to aid him, and pumped William’s hand enthusiastically.
“It’s pleased I am to meet you, my lord! Been praying Rose would be bringing you back.”
William was sure he was—and that he no doubt expected William to heal whatever ailed him. William gave the lad a grim nod and turned his attention to the bed.
Rose leaned over the bed’s occupant, giving her father a kiss and murmuring something to him. William could not understand the MacDonell’s reply, but it sounded gently reproving: No doubt he chastised her for running off like a little fool and frightening everyone. She straightened and beckoned for William to join her.
The man on the bed was painfully thin, enveloped in a mass of furs and plaids. His long gray beard flowed around him, freshly brushed, and his gray-streaked auburn hair was secured at his nape. Dull green eyes sunk deep in the sockets stared back at William above hollowed cheeks. He looked close to death.
Rose leaned close to her father. “Da, this is the man I told you about, William MacKay of Strathwick. He is a great healer. I’ve seen him perform miracles with my own eyes.” She smiled up at William with watery midnight eyes. “Lord Strathwick, this is my father, Alan MacDonell.”
William inclined his head in greeting. Alan said nothing at first, scrutinizing William as he absently stroked a silver Skye terrier sprawled on the bed beside him. The door shut loudly, and when William quickly scanned the room, he noted that Roderick had left.
“So, you think you can fix whatever ails me, aye?” Alan said, his voice weak and rough.
