Page 21 of Trapped Under His Highland Spell

“Ye are thinking it, aren’t ye?!” she shrieked.

“I’m the laird. I hae tae think of every possibility,” he said quietly, numbly.

“Aye, sae ye would rather believe that yer wife haes been lying tae ye rather than in spirits. I see how this is. Well, I’m nae gaeing tae be a part of this. I hae seen how secrets and lies hae torn a family apart.

I haed tae watch my ma die because she drank the wrong thing, and then I haed tae fear for my brother as well. I would never use poison. And if ye think I could, then maybe there is no hope for us at all. If ye are still gaeing tae be suspicious, then this marriage is nae gaeing tae work. I cannae love a man who thinks I would be capable of something like this.”

Without saying anything else, Moira spun on her heels and stormed out of the room in a flurry of sorrow and tears. Her last vision was of Niall standing in the room, a man left alone with his thoughts and suspicions, looking forlorn and lost.

Moira’s footsteps were heavy as she stormed through the castle. The maids and servants smiled when they saw her, but when they became aware of the look on her face, they turned away, afraid of feeling the brunt of her wrath. It was highly likely that the whole castle had heard some of her confrontation with Niall as their voices had been raised, but she didn’t care.

If Niall wanted to lead them back into the darkness of suspicion, then so be it. But how could he think these things of her? It didn’t make sense after all they had shared. Was there something deep inside them that would prevent them from trusting each other? Was there something between the Calbraiths and the Monroes that meant the clans would always be at war with each other?

If so, that didn’t bode well for Moira’s future. She had started to dream of a life here, one filled with happiness and joy, but that started to become murky and vague. The images were being dispelled, as though they too were being poisoned. Moira stopped for a moment and leaned against a wall.

She arched her body and choked out a few sobs. The last time she had felt this much pain was during the whole ordeal with Roderick. At the time, she had sworn she would never feel anything like that again, but clearly, it wasn’t as simple as that. The stone wall was cold against her palm. Nearby, a door led outside the castle. Beyond that were the dark forests and roads—roads that led back to a home she was familiar with, a home where she knew she was loved, a home that had her friends and her family.

A home where nothing like this could ever happen to her. In a flurry of tears, she berated Marcas for ever sending her out here. She had been happy at home and content with her life. There was nothing she wanted for, but then she had to be sent to this forsaken place.

There was a bitter taste on her tongue as her gaze lingered on the door. Even though it was late, it would have been so easy to sneak out and leave this place behind, to run to Marcas and tell him all what was happening and how Niall had been so quick to accuse them.

But Moira was intelligent enough to know what would happen next. Marcas would be angry at the dishonorable way Niall had acted, and would rouse his forces to teach Niall some respect. Even if Moira didn’t tell Marcas the reason why she returned home, it was likely that Niall would attack, as fleeing now would draw suspicion to her and Niall might well think himself correct in the assumption that this had all been some nefarious scheme by the Monroe clan.

Either way, there would be war, and that wasn’t why Moira had been sent here. She was supposed to be a harbinger of peace, and she was determined to live up to that.

Despite Niall being one of the most difficult and stubborn men she had ever met, she could not deny the feelings for him that existed in her heart.

They were married and had taken sacred vows. These could not be dismissed easily. She had to try and fix this and figure out what was happening, even if Niall was happy to point fingers at whoever had wronged him in the past.

She turned and made her way to the library, deciding not to flee on this night.

The library was located in one of the deepest parts of the castle. The walls were old and cracked, and there was a chill in the air as she receded deeper into the darkness. The torch she carried illuminated the surroundings in a dancing amber glow, beating back the musty, dusty ambiance.

Since it was so late at night, there was nobody in the library with her. She breathed softly and fought the fear that prickled in her mind. If there was ever a place for spirits to rise, then it would be in a place like this, a room filled with ancient tomes where few ever stepped.

Moira pressed her lips together and gulped away the lump in her throat as she held the torch proudly in front of her and walked through the shelves of books. Unlike Niall, she wasn’t ready to dismiss Grizel’s worries, so she gathered Grizel’s notes and settled at a nearby table. She lit a couple of candles with the torch and focused on the notes.

They were scrawled and difficult to read. They weren’t organized at all either. Moira pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed, knowing that making her way through these scattered notes was going to occupy her entire night.

But at least it would serve to keep her mind off Niall. She shook her head when she thought of her husband, and then got to work.

The notes ranged between various topics. Occasionally, Moira had to leaf through a good chunk of pages before she got back to notes on the spirits of the forest. Grizel had written old stories about them and made notes on their nature.

The spirits used to be playful and kind. They had the forest to themselves and never knew anything of fear or death, but then the first men came. Men did as men always do, try to take more and more.

They began to hunt and chopped down the forest to make homes and weapons. They brought with them noise and bluster, disrupting the natural harmony of the land. Spirits did not take kindly to this. Men took what they wanted without asking permission or paying respect.

The spirits saw everything crumble around them. At first they hid themselves away, assuming that the men would pass like a storm, but the men did not leave.

They stayed and grew and took more and more from the land without giving anything back, and then more men came. The spirits watched with worry as they saw the world they knew become irrevocably changed.

Their playful nature was suddenly absent. A deep anger burned within them, and their nature changed because of men. They became vicious and violent. They haunted the forests, driving men away, but even the spirits could not stop the relentless march of men.

The spirits were driven back, forced to dwell in the darkest parts of the woods. Perhaps if things had been different the men and spirits could have lived in harmony, but the time for peace has long since passed. The only thing men can do is to protect their homes and never venture too far into the woods.

There are concoctions that can help, but otherwise all we can do is hope that the spirits take mercy on us. We must try to placate them as best we can and make up for all the suffering we have caused.

Moira read the words intently and was startled by them. If what Grizel wrote was accurate then the whole reason this began was because of her ancestors.