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“Give me your knife,” I demanded of Alistair the second our hands were unbound.
“Planning to murder me already?” Ian winced as the last cloth stuck to his tender flesh.
I ignored his jibe. “Hold still.” I pricked his thumb with the tip of the blade, then did the same to mine. “Your words were very pretty, but I require a blood oath in front of all these witnesses.”
His brow arched as if impressed. “What do you want me to swear?”
“That you will not harm a single Campbell while you are here— or for a year after you have left.”
Ian shook his head. “No.”
“Then I do not wish to handfast.”
“Too late.” His smile was positively sinister.
“Probably best I hold this.” Alistair took the knife from me.
I glared at him, wondering whose side he was on. Whispers had started again in the hall below, ripples of question about what we were arguing over.
Ian took my thumb and pressed it to his. “Best do this before we have to use the knife again.”
“You just said—”
“Compromise.” He turned to the crowd and spoke loudly. “The lady would like a blood oath for her safety and that of her people, and so I give my word. So long as the MacDonalds, myself included, remain on Campbell land, no Campbell shall be harmed or killed by the hand of a MacDonald— save for two exceptions,” Ian added with a sharp look at me. “Should I have opportunity to meet Brann Campbell at any time, I may do with him as I please, as retribution for the lady’s injuries. And, should anyone attempt further harm upon Lady Katherine, he or she will answer in kind.”
A cheer of approval rose up, as Alistair raised our hands together. Blood trickled down the side of my thumb, and I felt a little faint from that and all else.
“Let the celebration begin,” Alistair declared. Another cheer went up, and the ale began to flow. He released our hands and turned back to me with a smile.
“Braw lass.” He patted my shoulder. “And wise as well.” He seemed particularly pleased with how things had gone. “You’ve only to sign the document now.”
I followed Alistair to the table and read over the brief paper. “One year and one day.” Forever. Somehow I would get through it— untouched. Ian had given his word, and I prayed he would keep it. I signed below him, noting his signature was little improved from when he’d signed as witness at my wedding. At least he had an excuse now, hands bandaged as they were.
I turned to find him already accepting hearty congratulations from his clansmen. It appeared that I was the only one feeling bereft, as if I had just betrayed both my best friend and my family as well.
* * *
It was during the celebration and feasting afterward that I realized what month it was.
“August already and half the fields yet untouched. Even with help, how will we get it all done? What’s to become of us if we don’t?” a group of Campbell women lamented in hushed tones. They had gathered near the table laden with meat pies, slabs of venison, and trays of bread and sweets. Anyone looking at the generous offerings would not have believed that either Campbells or MacDonalds were in any danger of starving.
But apparently— according to their worried conversation— we were.
August. In two months I would be twenty. A widow already. Soon-to-be owner of one castle, crumbling to the ground a piece at a time. Alone in a strange land that was once my home. Handfast to the devil. Twenty promised to be a fine year.
I’d been born on All Hallows’ Eve. Growing up in England, this had meant little to me, other than an extra hour or two sitting quietly in chapel— during our more religious years— to honor this hallowed or holy evening.
But in Scotland, and particularly the Highlands, October 31st held much more meaning. Collin had told me that Samhain or Hallowe’en, as it was known here, was a time of remembering the deceased and even welcoming their return. Being born on such a day, along with the fact that I was Liam Campbell’s granddaughter, was seen as a great omen.
Not only was I to see the events of the future unfold, but it was my link to the past that would allow them to do so. My connection with the dead.
With Collin? A sort of hopeful fear shivered down my spine. Might I somehow possess the ability to communicate with him still?
“This was needed.” Ian’s voice in my ear and his hand at my elbow startled me. I’d wandered away from him, amidst the sea of well-wishers, but had been aware of him tracking my movements the past several minutes. Unfortunately, I’d allowed my guard down enough that he’d managed to come near again.
“Everyone needed this,” he said. “MacDonalds and Campbells alike. Each have been too long without hope.”
“Some of us are still without hope,” I said miserably. I was surrounded by strangers and pledged now to the strangest one of all. I lifted my cup to my lips for another fortifying drink, while Ian looked on disapprovingly. He held his hand out. I surrendered the cup and waited as he first sniffed it then sipped.
“Water?”
I nodded. “I’ve been thirsty all day. And shaky. From the tea,” I admitted as I held out a trembling hand. Not to mention my headache, nausea, and dizziness.
“No more than you deserve,” he said without sympathy and gave the cup back to me. “It is fortunate you were not subjected to Bridget’s poppy seed tea overlong.”
I nodded, though a fair part of me yearned for it still.
“If you care not for your welfare, care at least for hers,” Ian urged. “If so much as another drop of that concoction reaches your lips— or anyone else’s— she will be banished not only from this keep, but from Campbell lands entirely. How well do you think a woman of her years would do, alone in the Highlands, with winter coming?”
“It is not within your authority to send her away,” I said, challenging him. “You are not the owner of this castle and therefore cannot order its inhabitants from it.”
“I’m as good as married to its owner.” A wicked grin curved Ian’s mouth. “I believe you’ll find that affords me quite a bit of authority. I would not test that by drinking more tea if I were you.”
I folded my good arm across my middle and turned away.
“You needn’t be upset,” Ian said, his tone less arrogant than a moment ago. “I don’t intend to lord anything over you— unless you insist on acting foolishly.”
Wanting to get away from you wasn’t foolish.
“Uniting our people will be hard. Surviving winter, possibly even harder.” Ian moved around me so that we faced each other again. “But if we work together, it’s not impossible.” He tipped my chin up gently so that I was forced to look at him. “The worst may be having to look at this, aye?” He drew a circle in the air around his face. “Everyone here already believes you a braw lass, just for standing up with me tonight.” His mouth quirked in a smile I found all too reminiscent of Collin, as his eye roved over me in a way I found far too possessive. “You look bonny tonight, Katie. Thank you for wearing the gown. It’s the kind of dress you ought to have had on your wedding day.”
“My name is Katherine. Henceforth, if you wish me to respond when you speak to me, you will please call me that and nothing else.” No endearments, and certainly not Katie. My eyes smarted. “I would also ask that you do not speak of the past or of Collin. Looking at you is reminder enough.”
“Is it?” Ian asked curiously. “Even with my scars and shaved hair?” He smoothed a hand over his head.
“What hair? You haven’t any.” A half-sob, half-laugh escaped my throat. I wasn’t jesting with him, merely trying to keep grief at bay a while longer. I could fall apart later, when I wasn’t surrounded by a hundred or more people.
One side of Ian’s mouth twisted. “I did this for you.” He angled his face to and fro, showing off all sides of his head.
“Thank you for—” I waved my hand at his head “— removing your insect-laden hair.”
Ian laughed outright, eliciting curious looks from several people around us. No doubt the MacDonalds were not accustomed to such a sound coming from him. And the Campbells could only feel as disturbed as I when looking upon him.
“There were no insects,” he said. “But anything— for you.”
I lowered my chin almost into my cup. “What do you want from me, Ian?” This wasn’t the place to ask that question, or perhaps it was, as it was certainly safer among so many. His reaction would be careful and calculated here. I braved a glance at him. “What do you really want? What game are we playing at?”
“No game.” He shook his head slowly. “Too many lives at stake for that.” He caught my gaze and held it. “Use your gift when you really want to know.”