Page 18 of Taming the Highland Beauty

As Gille pulled back from the mist, she met Callum’s gaze. His worry deepened, laced with a flicker of something more—a possessiveness that sent a spiral of warmth through her. In that shared look, a silent vow formed. They would face this curse together.

Gille quickly told the others what she had seen so that Lady Janet’s spoken confession made sense.

“I am to blame for Callum’s sickness.” Lottie came forward with tears in her eyes. “I was the one who pulled Callum down into the deeper waters. I only wanted to play, not realising he would die without air.”

She drew a fractured breath. “It was my fault he drew water into his lungs, water that led to his illness.” Lottie’s gaze shifted to Lady Janet’s ghostly form. “And when you went after my pelt to secure my services as a healer, I allowed it to happen, so great was my guilt.”

Callum frowned. “I do not remember being pulled beneath the water or being ill. Though I do recall Lottie’s attempts to heal Father were met with many angry words and a few violent swings at Lottie’s head.”

Tears continued to trail down Lottie’s cheeks. “Your mother stepped in to protect me from the worst of it, especially while I was ministering to you, Callum.”

Callum cast a puzzled glance between Lottie and his mother. “Even so,” he continued haltingly. “Mother trapped you here against your will.”

“Nay.” Lottie wiped the tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand. “I came to Dunvegan willingly as penance for what I had done to you.” She pinned on an overbright smile. “Thankfully, you were young and strong, and with the right herbs, you fully recovered.”

Drawing a long breath, Callum looked to his brothers. “We have an obligation to Mother but also to Lottie, to make things right.”

“Agreed,” they all said in unison.

“Where do we start searching for Lottie’s sealskin?” Callum asked Gille.

“We must return to the forest. There, we might be able to find a tree I saw in your mother’s memories,” Gille said.

Callum’s brows furrowed. “What if it burned down along with much of the forest?”

“We must hold out hope,” Gille said, her voice stronger than before. “That sealskin holds the key to sending Lottie home, and perhaps . . .” she hesitated, as warmth came to her cheeks “. . . perhaps to breaking the curse that binds me to the forest.”

Callum stepped forward, his hand settling over hers. The warmth of his touch sent shivers down her spine. “We will do whatever it takes to break both curses.”

Callum’s hand instinctively grasped Gille’s. Its warmth seeped into her, a stark contrast to the chilling exhaustion that radiated from within. Weaving Lady Janet’s memories had been a draining task but seeing the ghost’s form solidify made it worthwhile. However, a nagging question gnawed at Gille.

“Why, Lady Janet?” Gille spoke, her voice laced with empathy. “Why steal Lottie’s pelt and condemn her to a life on land?”

Lady Janet’s spectral form flickered with sorrow. I had already lost Keiran. I could not bear to lose another child. A mournful sob escaped her lips. When Callum fell ill with a fever, desperation clawed at me. The castle healer was away, tending to a difficult birth in the village. Her gaze dropped to the mist swirling around her feet.

The pelt was not my first desperate attempt, Lady Janet confessed. Against your father’s wishes, I stole the Fairy Flag, hoping to use its last magical flicker to heal Callum. But the laird caught me. He forbid me from ever touching the flag again and threatened that if Callum died, I would never see any of my children again.

A flicker of recognition crossed Alastair’s face. “I . . . I have a faint memory of that. Why did I forget?”

“It was not just you, Alastair,” Tormod chimed in. “We all blocked out memories of our father.”

I could not let Callum die. Lady Janet turned to her sons, her voice thick with emotion. Nor could I let that man harm any of you.

Orrick spoke, his voice gentle. “We understand, Mother. We will help make things right—for you, for Lottie, for Gille.”

“Do you recall where you hid Lottie’s pelt?” Gille pressed, praying it was not lost to the fire that ravaged a part of the forest.

Only fragments of that memory remain, Lady Janet replied, her voice fading.

“We will piece them together,” Gille declared, releasing Callum’s hand but feeling his reassuring presence behind her. Just as she readied herself to delve deeper, a sudden commotion shattered the tranquillity of the garden. Familiar shouts and angry yells pierced the air.

“Villagers,” Tormod said, reaching for his sword. “They must have seen us enter the garden.”

Alastair, Orrick, and Keiran followed suit, pulling their weapons, as did the guardsmen. But instead of reaching for his blade, Callum shifted Gille close, shielding her with his body.

Figures emerged from the trees, sending a fresh wave of panic crashing over Gille. Among the villagers, clad in a horrifying crimson, were English soldiers. The villagers, driven by fear, had sought help from the very enemy they had once fought against.

Gille’s heart hammered against her ribs. Though the numbers appeared even on both sides, the MacLeods were essentially trapped in the Walled Garden.