Slowly he crept toward the doorway, barely pulling at the crack so that it opened only slightly, allowing him to see inside. Confusion filled his mind as his gaze poured over the lass sitting, rather twisted, in front of his aunt’s old desk. The clothes that the woman had on were completely senseless. Why, the lass had fabric that went up in between the length of her legs! For a moment, he assumed the lass wasn’t Blaire but a lunatic that had made her way into the castle tunnels.
Then he caught a glimpse of something black and odd spread across a bare space on the lass’s back. Swirling and dark, the shapes seemed to spell out something, permanently etched into her skin. Surely something like that could only be accomplished with witchcraft.
When he heard the strange lass speak, as if trying to sound out something written within the book she was staring so intently into, he couldn’t help but swing the door open with a crash, the shock of all he’d seen reverberating through his veins.
“Christ, Blaire! Ye are a damned witch!”
Chapter 21
The first book I’d pulled off the top of the stack was one of Alasdair’s old journals, and while the majority of entries held nothing of great relevance, there was an entry at the end of the volume that had me leaning far over the desk in anticipation.
In it, Alasdair referenced his last conversation with Morna. And while most of it left out details of their conversations, he did say that it was vital to ensure that Eoin marry Blaire. He wrote of the spell his sister had cast and how Blaire and, I could only assume I, would switch places in time, and that I would help save them.
From what exactly, I wasn’t sure. And while I could feel a thought tugging at some part of my brain, I couldn’t think of any real reason for my presence here. Besides, I didn’t intend to stay long enough to find out and the further I got into the entry, the more excited I became. At the end of the journal entry he had spelled out the title of a book, three words written in Gaelic, prefaced with the words, “Morna said to remember this, if the time comes that it is needed.”
It had to be the name of one of the Gaelic books stacked on the other side of the room, and it had to have something to do with the spell. I just knew it. I stared at the three words. They sounded completely foreign as I worked to pronounce them as best I could.
I was just rounding the end of the last word when a crash from behind me caused me to whip around to see Eoin’s angry presence in the doorway, his thunderous voice screaming something about me being a witch.
Before I could get out a word in protest, he jerked me up by both arms and roughly dragged me away from the small room. He trembled with anger. I could feel it in the grip with which he held onto my arms. I would unquestionably be bruised tomorrow. As he dragged me up the stairs toward his bedchamber, screaming in Gaelic every step of the way, I found myself hoping that Mary would hear him. Perhaps, she could at least help me explain the situation. Not that I was very optimistic about him giving me the opportunity to do so.
He flung open the door and nearly threw me across his bedroom as he let go of his hold and slammed the door shut behind him.
He came toward me, seeming larger than he actually was, and stopped in front of my hunkered-down figure. I stood shakily, refusing to let him bully me until I’d told him all that I knew.
“Let me explain, Eoin. I’m not a witch. I . . .”
He immediately interrupted me with more words in Gaelic that I didn’t understand before he turned and walked over to the window seat to stare outside.
“What do ye expect me to do with ye now, lass? I should’ve left ye down in the dungeon to rot, but I expect ye spelled me so that I would relent and release ye, aye? What did ye plan to do, Blaire, place spells on us to do yer bidding and torture me for having married ye? I canna believe Arran was right! What a wicked bitch ye are!”
Anger flared within me, and I made no effort to continue the accent I’d tried so hard to use over the past weeks. “Are you crazy? Have I done or said anything to anyone since I’ve been here that would make you think that I wanted to hurt you? If you’d just stop all of your insane ranting and listen to me, I could explain what I was doing in the spell room.”
“How did ye even know about the room, Blaire? Ye had no business being in that part of the castle at all!”
“Mary showed me. It’s where she found me when I showed up here.”
“Ye are a damned liar, Blaire! Do ye no remember the day ye arrived? Ye insulted just about everyone in the castle, and ye nearly broke poor Kip’s back with the inconsiderate load ye piled onto him!”
“No!” I was no longer afraid, but I was so angry I was on the verge of tears. Each breath seemed painful in my chest. “I don’t remember the day Blaire arrived because I’m not Blaire! I don’t understand why or how I got here, but I’ve spent almost every minute since I showed up in this godforsaken place trying to get back home to Texas.”
“Not Blaire? Texas? God, Arran was right! How could I have been so blind? Well, I’ll no more be fooled by ye, and I’ll no have ye causing havoc here anymore.”