style="font-size:15px;"> “Nay, not e’en if one finds the means to hold him in a way he cannae break free of. The strength of these men can be terrifying to behold. So can their ability to persuade, to beguile, be beyond compare. E’en if ye find chains strong enough to bind them, they can eventually get some poor fool to set them free.”
Sophie stared down at her foot as she tapped it slowly against the hard-packed dirt of the bailey, her hands clasped behind her back. Most of what Eric told her matched what she had learned from others. He told her the truth without any gruesome elaborations or tales of the devil, however. The truth was not good. No normal restraints or cures had worked. It had been foolish to think the MacCordys had left any stone unturned in the course of over four hundred years. Rona’s curse refused to be denied its victims.
“None of the lairds lives to a great age, aye?” she asked, looking back at Eric.
“Sadly true. A few have killed themselves, a few died in battle, some are murdered by their own people.”
“But nay until they have bred an heir.”
“Aye, and after the son is born, the change often happens more quickly. The old laird, through sheer strength of will, held back the worst of the affliction for thirteen years, but I believe seeing the curse appear in Alpin broke his spirit. The verra next battle he fought, he died, and I think he planned to do so. In battle, the beast within the lairds bursts free in many ways. Their strength is that of many men, their ferocity unmatched, and their skill at laying waste to the enemy a source of legends. ’Tis why we are so often sought out by men who wish us to fight their battles for them.”
“Has there been a laird or two who was seduced by such power, began to welcome it?”
“Oh, aye, a few. But nay Alpin,” Eric said firmly, “if that is what ye think. Alpin has more strength of will than any mon I have e’er kenned or heard of. If any mon could beat this, he could, but there isnae any sign that he is winning that battle. Nay, at best he but slows the tightening of the grip of this affliction.”
“Then he doesnae grow worse as quickly as his father or grandfather?”
“Nay, but his father was married by now and had bred the heir. His grandfather, weel,” Eric shrugged. “He was verra bad from all that I hear. I dinnae ken if he was weak or one of those who reveled in the fear he could stir. He was killed by the villagers after he killed his wife. Tore her to pieces, ’tis said. Her and the lover he found her with.”
Sophie ignored Nella’s muttered prayers and nodded. “The rage. Catching one’s wife with another mon would certainly stir it up.” She suddenly smiled at Eric and rubbed her hands together. “I think I have a plan.” She briefly scowled at Nella, who groaned, then looked back at Eric, pretending she did not see the smile he quickly hid. “I shall immediately start doing all I can to help Sir Alpin fight this curse. I ken all manner of things to shield him, protect him, strengthen him. Rowan branches, rune stones, herbs,” she muttered, trying to recall all she had and to think of what more she might need.
“Er, m’lady—” Eric began.
Caught up in her thoughts, Sophie started toward the keep. “I dinnae suppose the laird would wear an amulet or two. Nay, he is being most uncooperative. He avoids me as if I am some toad-sucking demon waving a dead mon’s hand at him,” she mumbled to herself.
“Arenae ye going with her?” Eric asked Nella, who just stood there frowning after Sophie.
“She is muttering,” replied Nella. “’Tis sometimes best nay to hear what she is saying when she mutters. She only mutters when she is angry, and though she be a sweet, big-hearted lass, when she is angry she can have a verra wicked tongue.”
“She willnae give up, will she?”
“Nay. She is a stubborn woman, and I think she is weighted with shame o’er what her ancestor did. Aye, and she was sorely grieved by what happened to her mother. M’lady will keep at this ’til she joins the angels.”
“Nella?” called Sophie, suddenly realizing she was alone.
“Coming, m’lady.” Nella hurried to Sophie’s side.
“Good. We must change and go to collect some rowan branches.”
“For what?”
“I intend to place as many as I can around this keep to try to weaken the power of the curse,” Sophie replied as she entered the keep and hurried up the stairs.
“The laird isnae going to like this,” Nella said quietly as she followed Sophie.
“Then we shallnae tell him.”
Alpin knew he should not go to the great hall even as he found himself walking toward it. Sophie would be there with her smiles, her undampened hope, and that innocent beauty that made him ache. Avoiding her did not work, for he found himself trying to catch glimpses of her like some besotted youth. She also had a true skill for appearing around every corner. It was time to stop hiding in his own keep, he mused, as he strode into the great hall and straight into something hard.
Cursing softly, Alpin was just wondering what fool had placed a stool upon a chair right inside the doorway when something soft landed on him. His body immediately recognized Sophie, and he quickly wrapped his arms around her to stop her fall. Despite his best efforts, however, he lost his balance. Knowing he could not stop his own fall, he turned so that he took the worst of it, sprawling on his back with the sweet-smelling, viciously cursing Sophie sprawled on top of him.
He quickly became almost painfully aware of how good she felt in his arms, her gentle curves fitting perfectly against him. The scent of her filled his head, a stirring mixture of woman, clean skin, and a hint of lavender. When she shifted slightly on top of him, he tightened his grasp, unwilling to let her go. He could hear her pulse quicken, sense a building heat within her, and was sharply disappointed to find that she, too, feared him. Then he took another deep breath and realized it was not fear but desire that was stirring within her. Alpin beat down the strong urge to toss her over his shoulder and run to his bedchamber. He met her wide-eyed gaze with a hard-won calm, idly noting that desire made her eyes appear more green than blue.
“Might I ask what ye were doing?” He glanced at the stool and the chair, then looked back at her.
“I was hanging a few rowan branches o’er the door,” she replied.
“Ye could find no one to help?”
“I didnae ask. I was trying to do it secretly. If I got someone to help me, then it wouldnae have remained a secret, would it?”
Alpin looked at the branches nailed over the door to the great hall, and sighed as he returned his gaze to her face. “Why?”
“For protection. Ye are fighting the curse,” she hurried on before he could protest, “and I decided to do what I can to help. I plan to surround ye with protection, shields against evil, and things to help strengthen your will to fight, or, at least, keep it strong.” She sighed. “I ken ye dinnae like such things so I thought to do it secretly.”
“So ye planned to lie to me.”
“Nay! I planned on telling ye nothing at all. Ye need such things to help ye hold firm whilst I search for a cure, but since I kenned ye would deny that or argue against my plans, I decided
