Roderick nodded. “I’ll do what I can…but you never did say why you collapsed, if he’s the one doing the healing.” He nodded to William with his chin.
Rose placed a hand on her uncle’s arm. “That’s what I wanted to tell you. I’m like William. He sees the colors, too—only he can use them to heal. And I discovered…orthoughtI discovered”—disappointment constricted her throat again—“that I could, too. Aunt Tirawasdying. I did as William showed me and took it into myself. I suffered with her pain. And I heard her, Uncle Roderick. She spoke to me…I was so sure I succeeded.” Her shoulders slumped.
Her uncle stared at her, plucking at his bottom lip with his fingers, the whites of his eyes showing.
“Forgive me,” Rose said, realizing her clumsiness. “You’re mourning her, and I stand here twisting a knife in the wound.”
“It’s…fine.” He turned partially away, his gaze darting from William to Rose. “I…need to rest, I think.” He disappeared into his chambers and latched the door.
Rose turned to stare dejectedly up at William. “I should have stayed in bed.”
William stared at the door, his brow furrowed. “Your uncle wasn’t very happy to discover you can heal.”
“Why should he be? He probably doesn’t even believe me. Tira’s dead, after all. I’m the only one who believes she survived.” Rose shook her head, confusion warring with all she’d heard. “But I vow, William, I heard her and she was well, not dying, her voice strong. What could have happened?”
“Ibelieve you.” He placed his hands on her shoulders, his gaze earnest. “And I know not what happened, but youmuststop addressing me familiar.”
“You asked me to.”
He smiled wryly. “I know. It was unwise of me.”
“I don’t care. You’re leaving anyway, aren’t you? I will call you William until you leave, if it pleases you.”
“It doesn’t please me for you to make an enemy of MacPherson.”
Rose gazed up at him, her heart in her eyes. “I wasn’t going to marry him anyway.”
He did not reply to that; he only stared down into her eyes, his mouth a hard line. He did not appear pleased by her revelation.
She took a step closer to him so that mere inches separated their bodies. “Did you mean what you said before? That there was nothing more than friendship between us?”
He dropped his hands from her shoulders and took a step back. “A pathetic lie, and you know it.”
She walked around him, her arm and hand brushing his, her little finger twining with his as she passed. He lifted his hand to extend the tingling contact of their skin. At the stairs she turned and looked back at him over her shoulder. He still stood before the door, staring after her. The darkness in his eyes was unmistakable. Lust.
She smiled. “Come to my chambers, tonight—after midnight.”
And she left, before he could refuse.
In her father’s chambers, Rose was pleased to see that Conan was not on the bed. But as she crossed the room, she spotted the small dog on the rug beside the bed. She gave Hagan a cross look.
“What did I tell you?”
The Irishman shrugged. “Fash not. Alan cannot get him to jump on the bed. We’ve been trying, but the dog has developed a sudden aversion to it or his master.”
Rose harrumphed, still displeased the guard continued to disobey her. “I’ll be taking Conan with me when I leave this time.”
Her father was awake and seemed well. His color was good, and he sat propped against pillows, rather than sunk down and barely able to hold up his head. They talked some about Roderick’s son and Tira’s death, then Rose told him what had happened with Jamie.
“He said the betrothal is off.”
Alan considered her silently. “You don’t seem terribly upset.”
Rose shrugged. “I’m not, though I worry he will seek revenge.”
“I thought you loved him.”
Rose rolled her eyes. “I never said Ilovedhim. I had fond memories and his letters were sweet. In truth, I cannot believe he wrote them now, at least not with me in mind. He finds me repulsive.”
