“Did you not think totellme?” he burst out.
Maeve sighed. “I didn’t know until after you’d left for London. We’d all thought it was just a cold that lingered, but it got worse after you left. The doctor came, and…he was the one to tell us.”
“But no one told me?”
“I believe my arrival distracted everyone,” Heather said, feeling guilty, though she could hardly have known the issue.
“What did the doctor say? How long does he have?”
“Nothing is certain,” said Maeve. “But he can measure his time left in months, not years.”
“He’ll never die,” Niall said, moving away from them both. “He’s too contrary to die.”
“Everyone dies, Niall,” Heather said.
“Well, he can’t. Not now.” Niall suddenly turned to Heather. “Do you understand how bad things could get if he dies now?”
Chapter 12
Dear Heather,
On reading your letter, my first thought was that you were joking, just like that time when you convinced Mrs. Cannon that you saw a ghost at school by inventing all the details of her filmy dress and her big sad eyes and her silvery hair. You are so quick on your feet when it comes to things like that. I almost believed you, and I KNOW that ghosts are not real! But then I noticed that the letter was posted from Scotland. Unless you are devoting considerable effort to play a prank on all your friends, I have to assume that you are indeed living in Scotland with a family I have never heard of.
I burn for more information about your situation, so much so that I am inclined to persuade Daisy, Rose, and Poppy to mount an expedition into the wilds of the north to retrieve you. Unfortunately, Daisy and Rose are rather preoccupied with their marriages, and Poppy has devoted herself to her family’s business. Alas, I am somewhat confined here myself. My mother is unwell again, and she prefers me to stay close when that happens. So I must appeal to your good nature…I beg you to write again, using no less than five sheets of paper, and cross-write if you must. I will read every word no matter how long it takes. If you need anyone to rescue you, simply include the phrase “the lackluster pear tart” in some sentence, and I will organize a party to invade.
Camellia
Heather smiled while reading her friend’s letter, which had arrived that morning. For all the distance between London and Carregness, the mail coaches ensured that written communication moved swiftly. It was marvelous, really, that one could pass word from one end of the island to the other within a matter of a few days, so long as a person could afford the stamp.
By now, she was sure that all her friends at least knew where she was, and that she was safe. But she’d have to confide in someone about the actual facts of the matter, most specifically the hasty marriage and what she intended to do after the annulment.
Over the past several days, life at Carregness had settled into a fairly normal routine for Heather. Normal, that is, for a woman who was participating in a facade of a marriage for the sake of evading her uncle’s plans, while simultaneously helping her husband-for-now evade his own father’s plans.
It involved a lot of Heather and Niall riding out together in the afternoons, mostly to reassure the residents of Carregness that they were newlyweds simply mad about each other, so much so that they simply had to spend time in the woods all alone. From the knowing glances and smiles Heather got from the various women, from Maeve down to the undercook, Heather knew exactly what everyonethoughtwas happening.
In reality, Niall gave Heather a full tour of all the MacNair lands (which took a number of days, for the area was large, and the land itself rocky and wild). While they traveled, he told her stories about his childhood, growing up with Ian and Robert and Maeve and Fionnuala, running through the woods and fields as a sort of miniature army.
They rode to the nearest town one day when the weather precluded a longer excursion. Niall explained all the major points of interest.
“That inn is the Cat & Mouse. It’s the biggest one in the area, and Brodie brews his own ale. There’s the church where my parents married,” he said when they got to the stone building with its lichen-encrusted bell tower. “That’s where my own wedding was expected to be,” he added. “The locals might be annoyed about that, being done out of a wedding party and a day off.”
“You can still host a party for them, but it will be to celebrate your annulment,” Heather suggested. “Though the priest might not approve.”
“Father Ross would see the humor,” Niall mused.
The people in the village all seemed to recognize Niall, and greeted him respectfully when he passed. Heather smiled and nodded to them, but felt odd about introducing herself as “Mrs. MacNair” when in a few short weeks, she would be gone.
“We could ride to the harbor, if you like,” he said, after they chatted with a local magistrate. “It’s mostly for fishing boats, but there’s a little trade, so you never know if a ship from an interesting locale has come in.”
“Oh, we’d better head back home,” Heather decided, after glancing at the sky, which had grown steadily cloudier by the hour. “I think we’ve done well so far to avoid rain. Let’s not tempt fate.”
“Aye, homeward we go.” Niall grinned at her. “Race you!”
He was off at a gallop before Heather could even reply. “Oh, you sneak,” she muttered.
She nudged Sterling, the horse she’d been riding each day, and he was quite aware that he was in second place at the moment. Sterling bounded forward and galloped hard to catch up. Heather gave the horse as much freedom as she could, only watching for rocks and lowered branches that would endanger them both. In truth, she had very little idea why Sterling took the route he did. They had Niall in view most of the time, but once when he turned right around a hillock, Sterling plunged to the left.
Heather was surprised to see Carregness rising ahead of her as she rode at a breakneck pace toward the walls. She was even more surprised to hear a shout from behind her—Niall had emerged from the trees well after she did.
