Moving to stand in front of him, I nudged his shoulders so he would lift his head.
Begrudgingly, he did so. Blood was running freely down the front of his face.
“Ye cracked my skull open, lass. Do ye know of a spell that might heal it?”
* * *
It looked worse than it was, but the sight of him losing so much blood had me in tears as I led him to the river to clean his wound. I knew of nothing that would heal the wound completely. As long as we held something to it, I knew it would stop bleeding soon. I was far more upset by it than Jerry was.
“’Tis all right, lass. ’Twas my own fault for trying to run.”
He’d removed his shirt so I could clean the wound with it. Wetting it, I reached up to wipe more blood from his face.
“Are ye truly so eager to get away from me? Ye’ve said ye remember our time together. How then can ye be so callous about it?”
He closed his eyes as I pressed the cloth against his wound.
“I doona know, lass. I can only tell ye how I feel. I remember loving ye, but I canna feel the memory of it. I can only see it in my mind. I know I dinna mean to hurt ye, but when I think of Grier, all I feel is this overwhelming love and concern for her. That is why I tried to run. I know she’s worried for me, and I canna stand the thought of her in pain.”
“Ye felt just as strongly for me a fortnight ago. Can ye truly not see that ye might be spelled? How could yer feelings change so quickly otherwise?”
With his face now clean and the crack above his brow clotting nicely, he looked up into my eyes and stared at me in silence for a long time.
When he smiled, my heart fluttered with hope.
“Mayhap, I am, lass. Why doona ye kiss me, and we shall see how I feel?”
I’d missed the feeling of his lips so much that I threw myself into the kiss with abandon. It felt as if he were back. His hands caressed the sides of my face, his lips moved against mine willingly, his tongue slipped deftly inside. For me, it was perfect, but when it ended, Jerry leaned casually back and shrugged his shoulders.
“Nothing, lass. I felt nothing.”
Just as I was about to collapse into a heap of embarrassed tears, Hamish’s voice approached us from behind.
“Ach, lass. There is not a man alive that could be kissed like that and feel nothing. She’s spelled him worse than I thought.”
Chapter 41
Note from M.C.:
* * *
How are you doing, lass? I trust you are still reading and eager to hear how things turn out in the end. As I mentioned to you before, it’s important for you to hear my story—it will make everything easier for you to believe once we meet.
While I know you may have your doubts about the reality of everything now, one way I can assure you my story is true is this: Were this a work of fiction, I most assuredly would not have written these next two chapters of my life.
My father’s death was difficult to bear.
My own death was so much worse.
* * *
Allen Territory—One Month Later
* * *
“I should have never told ye about this place, lass. Either way, regardless of what ye see within that pool, only pain can come from it. Please let me take ye back to the village. My uncle will continue to work with Jerry. Not a soul here will allow him to leave, and if Grier comes for him, ye know her magic is no match for what we have here. I’ll come with ye to Conall Castle. We’ll stay for the babe’s birth and learn what shall happen as everyone is meant to. ’Tis never a good thing to know another’s future.”
Hamish’s warning was useless. I’d made up my mind the moment he mentioned it. I couldn’t stand the unknown for a moment longer. Everything in my life felt as if it were one day away from entire destruction. If the waters within Hamish’s cave would allow me to know one way or the other how things would play out, then I wanted to know. I was in pain anyway. How much worse could it get?
