Rose felt better after washing and combing her hair, and changing into a clean shift. She wanted to check on Tira and the baby. The thought of Tira sent a surge of dizzying excitement through her. She’d done it. She was a healer, just like William. She could hardly believe it,except she knew it to be true. She sat heavily on the bed, stunned to finally understand how William suffered when he healed. He’d been doing this for years. And now she truly understood what he’d said to her on the battlements. He would not put himself in a position of having to choose between wife and child again. He could not save both. If not for Rose’s presence, Tira would have died.
The waves of wonder and awe that washed through her left her weak and tearful. She was giving thanks to God for this gift when the door opened. She expected Gillian with her dinner, so she was surprised to see William’s broad shoulders filling the doorway. He gazed at her for a long while, his expression grave.
She could not speak at first, could only stare back at him, overwhelmed by what they had done. Together. Finally she said, “You knew. You knew and didn’t tell me.”
He left the door open and crossed the room. “I suspected.” He took the stool beside the bed, sitting opposite her, their knees nearly touching. He didn’t look at her. “I didn’t wish to curse you to a life such as mine.”
She let out an incredulous breath. “How can it be a curse? Tiraandher child are alive. They both would have died, otherwise.” She looked down at her own hands, then added, “There is no need for choices anymore, William. There’s two of us now.”
He took her hands in his; they were warm and strong, and she felt his touch to the pit of her belly.
“Rose, listen to me carefully.”
His voice was so somber that she looked up quickly, searching his face. Something was wrong.
“Tira is dead.”
It felt as if someone kicked Rose in the stomach. “Tha-that’s impossible. I healed her. I felt it—Iheardher. She spoke to me, after. And what about how ill I was? That’s exactly what happens when you do it. Why would I suffer with her pain if I didn’t heal her?”
He released one of her hands to rub his fingers over his whiskered jaw, then he pushed them through his hair. There was a significant new sprinkling of silver-gray at his temples. “I know not. I don’t understand. You suffered a great deal. Your sisters told me about it. MacPherson and your uncle told me, too, when accusing me of attacking you with witchcraft.”
“What?” Rose tried to stand, but he pulled her back to the bed by the hand. “You saved his son! How dare he accuse you of anything.”
The look on his face tore at her heart. He was resigned to the thankless injustice of it. This was his life. “I’ll fash on that later. For now, I want you to tell me what happened when you tried to heal Tira.”
Tried.A weight settled in her heart. There was not two of them now. Nothing had changed. And yet she’d been so certain she’d succeeded. If Tira had died anyway, why had Rose suffered with her affliction? It made no sense.
“I…don’t know. It was like always…then I sent the magic into her and called it back. When it came…it hurt so I couldn’t breathe or think. Then Tira—who had been at death’s door and not even opened her eyes—she spoke to me, asked me what happened!” Rose shook her head, tears blurring her vision. “I just don’t understand how I could have failed!”
The blue eyes that gazed back at her were grim and disappointed. “I don’t either.” He put a hand to the side of her head and stroked her hair, his gaze dark and intense as it moved over her face.
Rose wanted to give in to him, to lean into his arms, sink into his kiss, but nothing had changed. She sighed, subtly moving her head so he dropped his hand. “I need to speak with my uncle and check on the baby. Then I must look in on my father.”
He nodded, still solemn and thoughtful. “I’ll go with you.”
She eschewed the hand he offered, standing under her own power and wrapping her arisaid around her shoulders. They were at the door when Gillian returned with the tray, protesting that Rose couldn’t leave until she’d eaten. Rose took an oatcake and promised to eat the rest later.
On the way to Roderick’s apartments, William said, “You are still vexed with me.”
Rose looked at him, surprised. “I’m not. I’m just…sad, about many things. We have a truce, remember? I agreed to it.”
“That pleases me, as I know you can hold a grudge.”
“That’s not true. I don’t hold grudges.”
“Really? Hm…”
When he didn’t elaborate further, she stopped on the curve of the staircase, turning so she looked down on him several steps below her. He gazed up at her inquiringly.
“Why do you think I hold grudges?”
“Because you’re still so angry at your father about what happened on Skye.”
“Wouldn’t you be?”
He climbed a step, bringing them closer together. “Oh, aye, I would, but at the one who caused the injury. Your father didn’t even know.”
“He knew I was unhappy and still he made me stay.”
