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“This is nothin’ ye can help me with, Morag. It has to do with the Followers of the Secret Heart.”
“I’m a member now, too, dinna forget.” Morag tapped the heart brooch on her bodice. “Imanie made me a member so ye can talk to me about things as well.”
“Imanie was also cursed by doin’ that and died for it, unless ye forgot,” Fia whispered. Before Morag could respond, Earc approached.
“Lady Fia, Laird Alastair would like to talk to ye anon up on the battlements.”
“Now?” Fia’s heart pounded in her ears. “But my family has just arrived.”
“Fia,” Alastair called down from the battlements. “Come up here, please.”
Reed looked up and nodded a greeting to Alastair who nodded back.
“Yer family is welcome to refresh themselves in the great hall. I will be right with them,” he told her.
“Aye, my laird,” she said, climbing the steps to the battlements, feeling as if she were heading to the gallows instead.
“Fia, come here.” Alastair turned and headed down the walk way. She noticed he limped and then saw why. “Ye are only wearin’ one boot?”
“Dinna ask.”
“I’ll bet it was Cerberus who took the other. He is such a playful dog.” She tried to talk about anything other than what she knew he wanted to speak to her about.
“Forget the dog. I want to ken why my faither called ye into his chamber.”
“I was glad he did since I wanted to say guidbye.”
“Ye didna even ken him nor did he like ye. Dinna lie to me, Fia. Now, tell me what it was that was so important that he found the need to tell ye with his dyin’ breath.”
Fia looked over the edge of the battlements, wishing she were anywhere but here right now. If only she had been able to talk to Lorraine or her cousins for guidance, she would be feeling much better at the moment. Now, this was all up to her. Duncan MacPherson could go straight to hell for all she cared, putting her in this position. Mayhap he did it purposely, trying to tear Alastair and her apart.
“He called me into his chamber to tell me that he always believed ye when ye told him a mysterious woman saved yer life on the battlefield.”
“What? Why wouldna he say that to me instead? That makes no sense.”
Fia could no longer hold back. If they were to be married, she had to be honest with him, or he would never trust her again. “He told me because he saw the heart brooch I wore, just like the one that the mysterious woman gave ye.”
“And?” He tapped his fingers on the wall of the battlements and waited for her to continue.
“Alastair, he told me he thought the woman who saved ye on the battlefield was yer mathair.”
“Nay. How could that be?”
“I dinna ken, but the woman gave ye the heart brooch. Yer mathair had one just like it.”
“She did?” He stopped and pondered the thought, his eyes going up and to the side as he tried to recall. “Aye,” he said with a nod as if suddenly remembering. “I was verra young at the time, but now I vaguely remember her wearin’ a brooch just like that. What does it mean?”
Fia released a breath, closed her eyes and finally told him. “I belong to a secret group devised by the late Queen of England. Yer mathair belonged to it as well.”
“Stop it, Fia. Ye’re speakin’ nonsense. My mathair never met Queen Philippa.”
“Yer faither didna like the idea. He was the one to send her away,” she continued, wanting to tell him everything before she changed her mind. “He beat her to get her to tell him about it.”
“Nay.” Alastair held on to the wall, gripping it so hard she saw his knuckles turn white. “If I had kent this, I would have fought my faither to protect my mathair.”
“And that is why he could never tell ye. He took a mistress and told yer mathair if she ever returned or tried to contact ye or yer brathair he would . . . kill her.”
Alastair’s head snapped up, and his eyes bore fire. “Tell me ye are makin’ this up.”
