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“She’s well,” Matthew said. “She’s strong.”
“Aye, she is, though she probably doesnae think so.” His voice lowered even more. “Do ye have any idea who might have written the letter?”’
“I havenae a clue.” Matthew shook his head ruefully. “I wish I did. Somethin’ to send me in the right direction. Jonet wishes she does too, which is why she’s so determined to find her answers. She wants this all to be fnished with.”
Matthew understood her pain, and her fears. It was one thing for the letter to bring to light the reality of her situation, that the deaths happening around her were not the cause of her own supernatural curse. Yet it also brought forth the stark realization that she was still in some way responsible, that anyone who dared to come close to her would meet a terrible end. At least, he knew that was what was going through her head and he wanted nothing more than to bring those thoughts to an end.
“I want to help,” Georgie declared.
Matthew huffed a laugh. “The best way ye can help is to tell me whatever ye overhear. Maybe ye might hear somethin’ that pushes us in the right direction.”
“Anythin’ that I can do, Matthew, I’ll do it.”
They continued around the Castle estate, drawing near to the training grounds. They kept close to the walls, and Jonet put her hand out to run it against the smooth stone. From behind, Matthew saw her gaze grow longing and distant. Her mind seemed to be wandering again and he did not want to know what it was lingering on.
“If ye are still thinkin’ of a way to be romantic to Miss Jonet,” Georgie continued to say. “I think I’ve come up with a great idea.”
“Oh, is that so?” Matthew was distracted by Jonet. He could not take his eyes off her. He watched her pause, patting the stone walls of the Castle before she turned her attention to Fenella again. The conversation she was having with the horse struck back up and he thought he caught a hint of a smile. His heart settled.
“The Highlands are a beautiful place, Matthew,” Georgie nodded eagerly. He waved his hand around him, looking up at the sky. “During the days, the skies are clear and blue. And at night, they are
filled with stars—”
Suddenly, Georgie shoved himself into Matthew. Matthew stumbled a few steps though he righted himself in time when he heard Georgie cry out in pain. Whirling, Matthew saw the boy on his knees, clutching his left shoulder.
“Georgie!” Jonet cried out, rushing to his side. Matthew knelt next to her. Broken pieces of an earthen pot were scattered by him.
Georgie gritted his teeth in pain, his eyes watering as he lifted his gaze to Matthew. “Are ye all right?”
“Aye, aye, I’m all right!” Matthew quickly took his hand, trying to pry it away from the injured shoulder. His shirt was already being soaked through with blood. “What happened?”
“I… saw someone in the window above us…” It was difficult for Georgie to speak. He let Matthew check the wound, while Jonet hovered over them both with obvious distress. “I dinnae see who it was… but I saw when they tossed the bowl down.”
“Oh dear,” Jonet gasped.
Matthew shoved aside the rising dread. He focused on getting Georgie to his feet, slinging his uninjured arm around his shoulders.
“Daenae say anythin’ more,” Matthew warned. “Ye can say it all when ye’re better.”
Georgie did not answer. Matthew glanced at his face to see his eyes fluttering, as if he were slipping out of consciousness. He looked up at Jonet and she nodded, intuitively knowing what he was asking of her.
They moved in perfect sync. Jonet rushed ahead into the Castle, fetching her father and the phsycian. Matthew, with the help of a guard, helped a now unconscious Georgie into one of the Castle’s bedrooms. Once the physician had begun working on Georgie, Jonet had wanted to stay by his side, but Matthew coerced her into waiting in the sitting room with the Laird.
Laird MacLagain was eerily quiet. It was clear his mind was running, his large fingers drumming on every surface he could find as he paced back and forth. Like her father, Jonet too was quiet, her concern for Georgie written across her face. She stared at the door, as if willing the physician to enter with his news.
Matthew decided it was best he remained silent as well. He wanted to comfort her, to tell her that Georgie would be fine. As far as he could tell, the injury had not been life-threatening. Yet he was not a physician. He knew little about medicine past the shabby jobs he had done on himself when he had faced a few scrapes. He could not convince himself to be rid of his own worry, so how could he convince Jonet? She would hear the uncertainty in his voice.
Georgie was injured because of him. That earthen bowl had been meant for him. Had Georgie not acted so quickly, Matthew might not be alive right now. Thinking about how close he had been to death yet again put a bad taste in his mouth. He found himself strumming with uneasy energy, but he forced himself to stay still, not wanting to make Jonet any tenser.
“Matthew.” Matthew looked over at Jonet’s whisper. Her brows were furrowed, a tender look in her eye as she reached out and took his hand in hers. “It isnae yer fault.”
“I ken that,” he said, hating how little confidence he felt in his words.
“And Georgie will be all right,” she assured him.
Matthew nodded. Just how terrible did he look for her to be so concerned for him? “I ken that too. But I cannae help but feel guilty…”
“I daenae think Georgie would like it if you berate yerself for what happened,” she squeezed his hand. “Rather, I think he would want ye to be grateful, happy that ye are alive.”
