1
Aberfeld Castle, the Scottish Highlands
“Mark me words, Olivia, Edan’s alive, and he will return. I ken he’s alive—I can feel it in me bones!” the old lady spoke with fierce conviction as she lifted her head from her pillow, her dark eyes blazing in her pale, wrinkled face.
“I’m sure ye’re right, Greta, dear,” Olivia, Lady of Aberfeld Castle, lied through her smile, trying to gently free her wrist from her grandmother-in-law’s surprisingly strong grip.
But Greta did not let go. Instead, her fingers tightened. “I dinnae care what the damned council says, and neither should ye. Edan’s alive all right, and when he gets back, he’ll make the lot of those traitors on the council pay for their betrayal,” she hissed.
“Aye, I have nay doubt he will,” Olivia lied again, growing increasingly worried by the hectic red patches that had appearedon Greta’s pale, wrinkled cheeks. The woman looked feverish. “Now, ye must try to calm down. ’Tis nae good for ye to get so excited. If ye carry on like this, ye’ll make yerself ill,” she warned gently, anxious to placate the old woman.
Finally, Greta released her wrist and laid her night-capped head back on the pillow. “Let everyone else say that Edan’s dead if they like, but we both ken they’re wrong.”
“Aye, that’s right,” Olivia murmured, rubbing her wrist, despising herself for telling yet another lie while believing quite the opposite.
Edan’s been gone a year, and he’s nae replied to me letters for over nine months. If he was alive, he’d have sent word. There’s nay other explanation for it. The council is right. He must be dead!
But she could not bring herself to admit that to Greta, who had never stopped believing that her grandson would eventually come home.
“That’s why ye must stay strong, Olivia,” the old lady was saying in the same urgent tone, breaking into Olivia’s guilty thoughts. “Dinnae let the council bully ye into betrayin’ Edan in this shameful way. Nay matter what else happens, when that sleekit weasel Nurkirk proposes to ye on the morrow, ye must refuse him. Tell him ye already have a husband.”
“Ye can be sure I will, Greta dear,” Olivia said, smiling down tenderly at the woman she had grown so close to. “Now, will yestop worryin’ and get some rest? I promise ye, there’s nay need to fret about tomorrow at all,” she added, her smile concealing her discomfort.
As she tucked the coverlet around Greta’s frail body, she glanced over at Megan, her lady’s maid, who was standing on the other side of the bed with Jane, Greta’s devoted maid. Megan’s pointed look skewered her lies, twisting the knife of guilt in Olivia’s heart. But Megan knew Olivia was only lying to avoid upsetting Greta, whom she considered her own flesh and blood.
“Sleep well now, dearest,” Olivia said finally, bending to press a small kiss to Greta’s lined brow. “Goodnight.”
“Aye, thank ye, lassie. I hope ye can get some sleep tonight as well,” the old lady replied, smiling up at her so sweetly that Olivia feared her heart would break. “Ye’ll need all yer strength to do battle on the morrow, eh?” Greta added, her eyes twinkling with determination.
Olivia managed to hide her doubts and fool Greta long enough for her and Megan to leave the bedchamber. But once they were in the privacy of her own chambers, she dropped the pretense.
“I hate lyin’ to her like that,” she said as Megan helped her out of her gown and petticoats and into her nightdress.
She sat down on the stool in front of her dressing table while Megan brushed out her hair.
“I hardly recognize meself,” she remarked sadly as she looked at her reflection in the mirror. “I look drawn and pale, and I have dark circles under me eyes. All this worry is makin’ me look old.”
If only Edan had never gone away and was here to protect me. All this would never have happened.
“Nay, Me Lady, ye’re still as bonny as ye ever were,” Megan remonstrated kindly. “But even so, I’m worried about ye.” She put down the hairbrush. “Ye look a bit tired, is all. But that’s hardly surprisin’, seein’ the circumstances. Ye havenae said anythin’ to me about it, but I can tell ye havenae been sleepin’ very well lately.”
“Ach, I’m all right, Megan. There’s nay need to worry about me.”
“Wheesht, ye cannae fool me, Me Lady. I ken ye have a whole host of worries on yer shoulders, what with the council wantin’ ye to say that Laird Aberfeld’s dead and that ye should wed Laird Nurkirk in his place. That’s enough to keep anyone awake all night.” Megan cast Olivia a sympathetic glance in the mirror. “But I can tell there’s more to it than that. Will ye nae tell me what’s been keepin’ ye awake? Maybe I can help ye.”
“Bless ye, Megan,” Olivia replied softly, ruing her inability to hide anything from the eagle-eyed young woman.
Of course, Megan was right. There was something else troubling Olivia. But it was something so disturbing that she hesitated to share it with anyone lest they think her mad.
“I only want to help ye if I can. Please, tell me what’s troublin’ yer sleep so much,” Megan pleaded.
Olivia stood up and slipped into the robe Megan held up for her.
Should I tell her? What if she thinks I’m daft?
But one look at Megan’s face, her freckled brow creased with worry, convinced Olivia to confide in her.
“All right, I’ll tell ye. But ye must swear to keep it to yerself. I dinnae want anyone to think I’m losin’ me wits,” Olivia said, tying her belt tightly around her waist and going to sit on the edge of the bed.
