finished her drink, stood up, and set the tankard on the mantel. She would not join the long line of heartbroken Galt women. If it took her the rest of her life, she would end the torment her vindictive ancestor had inflicted upon so many innocent people. If it was God’s wish that the Galt women should suffer for Rona’s crime, surely four hundred and thirty-five years of misery was penance enough. Perhaps He wanted a Galt woman to put right what a Galt woman had made so wrong. It was her duty to try. And, she mused, as she crawled into bed, there was only one proper place to start—Nochdaidh.
“Nella isnae going to like this plan,” she murmured and almost smiled.
“I dinnae like this, m’lady. Not at all.”
Sophie glanced at her maid riding the stout pony at her side. Nella had not ceased bemoaning the plans Sophie had made in the entire sennight since she had made them. It had been expected, but Sophie was weary of it. Nella’s fears fed her own. What she needed was confidence and support. Nella was loyal, but Sophie wished she was also brave, perhaps even a little encouraging.
“Nella, do ye wish me to die alone, sad, and heartbroken?” Sophie asked.
“Och, nay.”
“Then hush. Unless Rona’s curse is broken, I will suffer the fate of all the Galt women of her bloodline. I will become just another one of the sorrowful, despairing spirits roaming the halls of Werstane.”
Nella gasped, then gave Sophie a brief look of accusation. “Ye said there werenae any spirits at Werstane.”
“Actually, I said there werenae any spirits in the room we were in when ye asked about them.” She grinned when Nella snorted softly in disgust, but quickly grew serious again. “’Twill be all right, Nella.”
“Oh? The woman in the village said the laird is a monster, a beast who drinks blood and devours bairns.”
“If he devours bairns, he obviously has a verra small appetite, for the village was swarming with them. And that village looked far too prosperous for one said to be ruled by some beast.” She looked around her, noticing how stark the land had grown, then frowned at the looming castle of dark stone before her. “That place does look a wee bit chilling, however. The boundary between light and dark is astonishingly clear.”
“Do ye feel anything, m’lady? Evil or danger?” Nella asked in an unsteady whisper.
“I feel despair,” Sophie replied in an equally quiet voice. “ ’Tis so thick, ’tis nearly smothering.”
“Oh, dear. That isnae good for ye, m’lady. Nay good at all.”
Sophie dismounted but yards from the huge, ominous gates of Nochdaidh and placed her hand upon the cold, rocky ground. “Rona’s venom has sunk deep into this land.”
“The verra ground is cursed? Will it nay reach out to infect us as weel?”
“Not ye, Nella. And what poison is here is for The MacCordy, nay ye and nay me.”
Nella dismounted, moved to stand at Sophie’s side, and clasped her hand. “Let us leave this cursed place, m’lady. Ye feel too much. What lurks here, in the verra air and the earth, could hurt ye.”
“I am hurt already, Nella, and I face e’en more hurt. Long, lonely years of pain, the sort of pain that drove my mother to court hell’s fires by taking her own life. The MacCordys also suffer. The pain should have been Rona’s alone, and, mayhap, her lover’s. Yet she inflicted it upon countless innocents. Aunt Claire did no wrong. My mother did no wrong. The mon behind those shadowed walls did no wrong. One woman’s anger has tainted all of us. How can I ignore that? How can I but walk away? I am of Rona’s blood and I must do all I can to undo this wrong. If nay for myself, then for the MacCordys, for my own child if I am blessed with one.”
“So, if ye can break this curse, ye will love and be loved and have bairns?”
“Aye, that is how I understand it.”
Nella took a deep breath, threw back her thin shoulders, and nodded firmly. “Then we must go on. Ye have a right to such happiness. And I can find it within me to be brave. I have protection.”
Thinking of all the talismans, rune stones, and other such things Nella was weighted down with, Sophie suspected her maid was the most protected woman in all of Scotland. “Loyal Nella, I welcome your companionship. I shall be in sore need of it, I think.” Sophie took the reins of her pony in her hand and started to walk toward the gates of Nochdaidh.
“’Tis as if the verra sun fears to shine upon such a cursed place,” Nella whispered.
“Aye. Let us pray that God in His mercy will show me the way to dispel those shadows.”
Chapter Two
“A visitor, Alpin.”
Alpin MacCordy looked up from the letter he had been reading. His right-hand man Eric stood across from him at the head table in the great hall. There was no hint of amusement upon the man’s rough features, yet he had to be joking. Visitors did not come to Nochdaidh. Anyone traveling over his lands was quickly and thoroughly warned to stay away. The dark laird of Nochdaidh was not a man anyone came calling on.
“Has the weather turned so ill that it would force someone to seek shelter e’en in this place?” he asked.
“Nay. She has asked to speak to you.”
“She?”
“Aye.” Eric shook his head. “Two wee lasses. The one who calls herself Lady Sophie Hay says she must speak to you.” He suddenly turned and scowled at the doors. “Curse it, woman, I told ye to wait.”
“My lady is cold,” said the thinner of the two women entering the great hall, even as she pushed the other woman toward the fireplace.
“I am fine, Nella,” protested the other woman.
That soft, husky voice drew Alpin’s attention from Eric, who was bickering with the woman called Nella. He felt a slight tightening in his belly as the lady by the fireplace pulled off the hood of her cloak, revealing a delicate profile and thick, honey gold hair. At the moment she was distracted by her maid’s efforts to get her cloak off and the argument between Eric and Nella. Alpin took quick advantage of that, looking his fill.
Her beautiful hair hung in a long, thick braid to her tiny waist. The dark blue woolen gown she wore clung to her slim, shapely hips and nicely formed, if somewhat small, breasts. Her face was a delicate oval, her nose small and straight, and her mouth full and inviting. She was tiny but perfect. Her maid was also small, dark haired, somewhat plain, bone thin, and plainly not at all intimidated by the burly Eric’s harsh visage or curt voice.
Alpin rose and moved closer to his uninvited guests. When the lady looked at him, he needed all his willpower not to openly react to the beauty of her eyes. She had eyes the color of the sea, an intriguing mix of blue and green, and just as mysterious. Her eyes were wide, her lashes long, thick, and several shades darker than her hair, and her equally dark brows arced delicately over those huge pools of innocent curiosity.
For a moment he thought this beautiful young woman had somehow made it to his gates without hearing about him, then he looked at the woman she called Nella. That woman’s dark
