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“My wife was English, and I should have kent trouble would come from it. I am no’ proud to say I beat her when she wouldna tell me about the heart brooch and where she got it. I thought it was from another man. When I found out the truth, I wished it were from a man because at least then I coulda killed him.”
“Alastair’s mathair was a member of the group?” she asked in amazement.
“I didna like the fact then, and I dinna like the fact now that my son is goin’ to marry and make the same mistake I did.”
She sat up straighter in the chair. “I dinna believe by any means that bein’ a strong woman is a mistake.”
“That’s no’ the mistake I meant.” He released a breath and closed his eyes. His breathing became shallower. She almost thought he fell asleep, but then his eyes opened and he continued. “I was talkin’ about the mistake of sendin’ her away and tellin’ her that if she returned or even tried to contact our sons . . . I would kill her.”
“Och, ye dinna say that!”
“I did. I even took a mistress. We had a baby because I thought if I had someone else, she would never try to return.”
“Caitlin,” mumbled Fia.
“Aye, Caitlin is my daughter. Her mathair died givin’ birth. It was my punishment for sendin’ away the only woman I ever loved.”
“Ye loved yer wife and yet ye beat her? And ye never tried to find her again?”
He coughed, sounding much weaker than before. “The more time passed, the harder it was for me to admit my mistake of no’ tellin’ Alastair and his brathair, Toran, the truth.”
“And now yer wife and son are dead.”
“I’m afraid Toran died on the battlefield three years ago, although I could never find his body to prove it. But my wife, Oletha, is still alive.”
“How do ye ken?”
“The mysterious woman on the battlefield that saved Alastair’s life – I believe it was her watchin’ over him.”
“The brooch,” said Fia, understanding everything now. “Why didna ye tell Alastair? Ye need to tell him.”
“I’m afeard if I tell him, he will never forgive me. I wanted to confess to someone before I died, but I couldna bring myself to tell him.”
“And ye’re tellin’ me because ye want me to relay the story to him?”
His eyes closed again. His skin became even whiter. “Ye are a strong lassie; I can see that. I will leave it up to ye if ye tell him the secret or no’.”
“Nay! Dinna dump yer deceitful problems on me. Besides, ye ken as well as I that I am sworn to secrecy and canna tell Alastair or anyone about the Followers of the Secret Heart.” Fury raced through her as well as confusion. She glanced back at the door, hoping Alastair would return during their conversation. He had to. There was no way she wanted to try to explain all this to him. There had to be another way.
“It is up to ye now, Fia, whether Alastair ever . . . kens the truth . . . or . . . no’.” His breathing stopped. And when it did, his haunting eyes stared into her very soul. He died, therefore making his problems hers. She didn’t need this, nor did she want it.
“Laird Duncan,” she said, reaching out and shaking him but, of course he didn’t respond. Tears filled her eyes. “Laird Duncan wake up! Dinna leave yer secrets on my doorstep. I already have enough weight on my shoulders. Please, dinna do this to me!”
“Fia!” Alastair rushed into the room with the priest and the healer right behind him. “What are ye doin’?”
“He’s dead,” she said, with tears streaming down her face. “Alastair, why didna ye come back five minutes sooner?”
“Nay! Faither!” Alastair leaned over and stared into his father’s open, lifeless eyes.
“Let me check him,” said the healer, stepping in between Duncan and Alastair, holding his hand to the man’s neck and then his wrist. He reached out with one hand and closed Duncan’s eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head solemnly. “Alastair, the infection has taken the life of yer faither.”
“Let me give him a final blessin’,” said the priest, stepping up to the bed and opening his book.
Fia’s body shook while tears streamed down her cheeks. Alastair’s arm slipped around her shoulder. Lovingly, he pulled her closer. “It’s all right, Fia,” he said, thinking she was crying over the death of the man.
The fact that Alastair lost his father saddened her, but what the man told her with his dying breath is what really had her upset. She now held the secrets that could end all Alastair’s searching for answers, yet at the same time could expose her and make him hate her. She had a decision to make that could alter the course of both their lives and didn’t know what to do.
In another day or two, she and Alastair would marry for the sake of an alliance between two clans that had been enemies for years. If she told Alastair the story his father had relayed to her, would it bring to his mind more questions? What if he found out she was the one responsible for the English army’s retreat, hence spoiling the surprise ambush by the Scots? Would he be angry that she ruined their plans, or happy since she’d saved so many lives? And the question that bothered her the most was would Alastair react to her the same way his father responded when he found his wife was a member of the late queen’s secret group? If so, a marriage that had not yet even started could be over before it began.
With her eyes transfixed on the dead man, she listened as the priest recited prayers that she was not sure would benefit the man’s soul and get him to heaven. Duncan MacPherson had made mistakes that she wasn’t sure could ever be forgiven. And now he’d laid his troubles at her doorstep. It was all up to her now. She was the only one who could right the wrongs of the past. But in doing so, she could hurt a lot of people and, perhaps, even bring about a war. If the Scots knew the English retreated because of a warning from a woman, her cousin, King Richard, would be made a laughingstock to even his own people. How much could she tell Alastair and how long could she continue to keep secrets? She longed to be a loyal wife, securing her marriage to Alastair and maintaining peace between the clans. Fia never felt such turmoil in her life.
Where were her cousins, Maira and Willow, now that she needed them? She couldn’t make this decision alone. She needed someone to guide her, and she needed it fast.
