Page 55 of A Laird and a Gentleman

“Nay. Never alone. Not anymore.” Cameron retrieved a length of cloth from his sporran and wrapped it about his dagger. Next, he took out his flint and steel and struck them together, deftly directing the sparks toward the cloth until it caught and flared. Makeshift torch in hand, he asked, “Are you ready? This is what we came to do. We cannot turn back now.”

“Why would you risk so much for me?” Her face was pale as her gaze fixed on the opening.

“I would risk everything for you,” he replied, taking her chin in his hands and bringing her gaze to his. “I thought you knew that.”

Her eyes flared with surprise at something she saw on his face. “I might have magic but I cannot read your thoughts.”

“Then let me plainly state the truth. I love you, Mariam.”

She blinked rapidly. “It is obligation you feel, not love.”

He laughed and pulled her to him. “I know what I feel for you, and it goes beyond duty, beyond reason.” Just touching her grounded him in a way that nothing ever had before. He looked into her green eyes and felt love wash through him. Love like he’d never known before. “You are my heart, Mariam.”

“Why tell me this now?”

“I thought you needed to hear it.”

“You are no less important to me,” she whispered.

He stepped through the opening, taking her with him. “Now, let us find the ashes or the cauldron or whatever it is that will reveal what we need to know about your past. Declarations of love are all well and good, but I’ll be the first to admit I am not very good with words.” He slipped his arm about her waist as they took their first steps inside the ancient place. “I am much better with action. Once this is over, I intend to show you just how earnest I am about my feelings for you.”

Chapter Eighteen

Golden light from Cameron’s torch flickered through the darkness of the cairn. Mariam’s heart sped up. Excitement wedded with fear as she looked around. The flat, rectangular stones that made up the walls of the cairn were high, supported with thick columns and lintels of basalt rock, keeping the stones overhead from collapsing in upon them.

The fecund scent of ancient dirt and undisturbed air filled Mariam’s senses as she, Cameron, and Nessie moved deeper into the chamber. The twisting, dancing light illuminated a space that appeared much larger within than from outside. At the back of the chamber beside Nessie was an overly large black cauldron. Arranged in a circle around its base were eight orangish-brown urns. “The ashes.” The words echoed off the walls, reverberating back to her.

“Does any of this bring forth any memories?” Nessie asked.

Everything in Mariam went still as she took in the scene and let it sink into her soul. “It’s not so much a memory as it is a feeling.” She felt the spirits clinging to this place; she felt their energies. Mariam turned to look about the cairn, almost expecting to see those who had gone before her emerge from their ancient sleep.

“On this isle in the past, magic was treated not with fear but with reverence,” Mariam said, remembering something her mother had once told her. It had made no sense then. It did now. “My sisters who came before me were much sought after for potions and healings, to attend both births and the end of life. They were seen as guides from this life to the next.”

“That’s right,” Nessie said, as she dropped her gaze, hiding her expression from Mariam. “You are here to return magic to the world.”

“How am I to do such a thing? I have no skill but harnessing the wind. I have no training.”

“I will help you.”

“How can you do that? Did my mother tell you how?”

Nessie pushed her veil back, exposing her face. The ugly, red scar that stretched from Nessie’s hairline to her jaw was gone, and instead of a smashed nose and a drooping eye, a face fully formed and beautiful stared back at Mariam. The red hair that had hours ago been faded was now a pure white, and the back that had previously hunched now stood tall and straight.

Mariam gasped. “Who are you?”

“You know who I am. You have always known.” The woman before her laughed, the ghostly trill sounding more familiar than foreign to Mariam’s ears. And yet she refused to believe what she saw.

Cameron’s hand drifted to his sword. “Explain yourself.”

“I have returned to my home, my haven, and the source of my own magic.”

“Impossible.” Mariam felt the ancient stirrings that emanated from the white-haired woman and trembled. “You are dead.”

“I was close to death after your father threw me over the cliff’s edge and on to the rocks below. But my magic has always been linked with the sea—the water—and the waves rose up and carried me away. They brought me back here, to the isle, and healed me over the course of many years.”

Mariam shook her head. “Nay, it cannot be. My mother never would have left me alone with that monster.” Nay, this had to be a trick, or a trap—anything else was impossible.

“Do you remember when I gave you that necklace?”