Page 63 of The Highlander’s Tempting Touch

“Ye… I… I thought…”

“That I’d wish tae hold me secrets, or demand a trade?” Sorcha raised an eyebrow. “And why should I? I make me living in the dispensing and use o’ the knowledge I’ve gained through me skills, and I’ve nae need tae keep secrets, nor any desire tae keep confidences that are nay concern o’ mine, or that might prove troublesome tae others.”

Niamh swallowed hard. She had many questions, but one was first and foremost on her mind. “Why did ye curse me husband, Alistair MacDuff?”

Sorcha’s gentle expression twisted into a mask of rage, tinted heavily with grief. “Because he was the fool that got me sister killed.”

Niamh winced at her vehemence, even as she tried to comprehend the meaning behind it. “Yer… sister?”

Sorcha tipped her head, her expression smoothing over into calm once more as if the anger had never been there, though Niamh could still see it shimmering in her eyes. “How much dae ye ken about the woman whose ring ye wear as a marriage token?”

Niamh glanced at the ring in question. “I ken… it belonged tae Alistair’s first betrothed. Her name was Constance, and I ken she’s dead. But nay more than that.”

“I see.” Sorcha tapped one nail against her mug. “Then there’s a story ye need tae be told, and if Alistair isnae brave enough tae tell it himself, then I shall. Better that, than ye wander in ignorance.” She took a swallow of tea, then met Niamh’s gaze. “The first thing ye need tae ken is that the lass’s full name was Constance MacBeth, and she was me sister, and the last o’ me kin who I had any fond ties tae.”

Niamh swallowed hard. She could feel the hurt and loneliness in that statement. “Ye were close.”

“Close as two siblings could be. Many o’ the clan fear me gifts, and with reason - I am well skilled in both magic and herblore, mysticism and more. But Constance never minded. She was as true tae our sisterhood and our bond as her name suggested, and even when she fell in love with Alistair MacDuff, she refused tae set our kinship aside. I loved her as I’ve loved nay other, and never will love again. Were it nay that I wished her happiness, I’d have driven Alistair away. But she loved him true, and I couldnae stand between them, fer her sake.”

Niamh felt tears pricking at her eyes. “I… I understand, I think. I dinnae have sisters, but…”

“But ye’ve someone in yer life whom ye cherish, even though ye ken nae many would approve.” Sorcha gave her a searching glance. “Perhaps ye have some sense o’ it.”

She took another sip of tea. “In any case, Constance and Alistair loved each other, and I thought she would be happy with him. But ‘twas nae tae be. She had gone tae visit some kinfolk. Alistair should have gone with her, but he didnae. He and his faither were busy with the border wars and guarding the clan. He should have gone tae escort her when he heard there was trouble abroad, but he didnae. He asked his faither tae go in his stead.”

Niamh sat, spellbound by the tale. “And… something happened?”

“Fergus MacTavish happened, with a band o’ his men. A band o’ bloodthirsty murderers. They overtook Constance and the old Laird MacDuff on the road back tae MacDuff Castle. Alistair learned o’ the attack, but he arrived too late. Too late fer his faither or me sister.”

“I see.”

“’Tis worse. He didnae bring the healer, fer fear o’ her bein’ needed. Had he done… Constance might or might nae have survived her wounds, but certain sure, she’d have died in less pain. What those mad dogs did tae her…” Sorcha’s hands shook with rage, and she set the mug down to curl them into fists. “I couldnae have saved her - I was too distant. But he might have, had he only put her life and safety afore his own, and his precious clan.”

The way Sorcha spat the words, it was clear she meant Alistair. “So ye cursed him?”

“I gave him a chance. A chance tae avenge her, tae claim Laird MacTavish’s head in payment o’ Constance’s life. But he said ‘twould cause too much strife, too much harm tae the clan. I dinnae care if his words were cowardice or truth – ‘twas for Constance’s death and his failure tae avenge her, all in the name o’ ‘peace’, that I cursed him.”

Niamh wasn’t sure she agreed with Sorcha’s choice. However, she understood it. She could imagine something of what the other woman must have felt, especially when she recalled the rage she’d felt, and the anguish, when Alistair had threatened Grace.

She took a deep breath, then asked her next question. “What…what is the curse?”

“That the next woman Alistair MacDuff decides tae love - she will be his doom. If he cannae place her life above all else - himself, his clan, his kin - if he cannae love her more than all o’ those, then the day her life is endangered, his is forfeit. The next woman he loves will claim his life, either in truth, or, in claiming a devotion great enough that she is the center o’ it, nay trouble can touch her without leavin’ him dead on the floor first.”

It wasn’t the sort of curse she’d expected. And yet, it made sense. “’Tis a curse that he cannae claim he loves another, unless he is willing tae dae everything tae ensure she doesnae share yer sister’s fate.”

“Aye.” Sorcha nodded. “I couldnae save me sister, but I’ll nae let Alistair MacDuff fail another the same way.” A small, sad, knowing smile creased the beautiful face. “Ye came tae save yer husband from what ye feared was a terrible curse, and ye’re brave tae have done so, but the fact that ye have makes me all the more unwillin’ tae free him.”

Sorcha reached across to place a hand on Niamh’s. “Curse it is, but this spell protects ye from his failings. Dae ye understand?”

Niamh nodded. “I dae. But… I dinnae think Alistair loves me.”

Another knowing smile. “Time will tell. But dinnae tak’ it lightly that he wed ye, or that he’s kind tae ye, in the face o’ what his clan demands.”

Startled, Niamh looked up. What she saw in Sorcha’s face made her cheeks heat. “Ye ken…”

“I ken the secret ye keep, ye and Laird MacDuff. Ye may keep yer counsel on that, fer I understand the reason o’ it. However, if ye’re uncertain, and ye’ve a desire tae change yer decision - seek out yer cousin, and the woman who helps ye weave yer Samhain dress. They’ll give ye aid.”

Catriona and Moira? Well, Catriona was a healer, and Moira was wise and kind.