Breath of Yesterday (The Curse Series)

CHAPTER 25

 

 

 

 

 

The gray tower of Castle Galthair welcomed him from afar. Cathal Stuart felt relieved to be back home, even though he 

 

could report only limited success. They had neither hunted down the cattle thieves nor found the missing animals. It was 

 

surprisingly quiet in the borderlands, aside from more and more cows going missing every day.

 

They cantered into the castle yard, and Cathal jumped from the saddle before his horse came to a stop.

 

“Fàilte, milord!” the stable boys greeted him and took over the reins.

 

“Where is Nathaira? Why isn’t she here to welcome me home?” he demanded.

 

“Her ladyship is residing at Burragh. A messenger brought tidings that the laird had been injured, and she left right 

 

away. She thought him on his deathbed and wanted to look in on him personally,” one of the boys informed them.

 

Cathal nodded. Even though he urgently needed to speak with his sister, he was glad to know she was with Blair, who was 

 

without a doubt also by his father’s bedside. He was especially glad since Alasdair Buchanan, the Norseman, was now 

 

dismounting beside him.

 

“Cathal, a word, please?” Alasdair called, asking him to approach.

 

“What is it, mo charaid?”

 

“I wanted to talk with you concerning a very important and personal matter,” Alasdair explained, stroking his beard.

 

Cathal suppressed the urge to blurt out a curse word and instead nodded casually. He prompted the blond warrior to 

 

accompany him as he traversed the courtyard and walked toward the Great Hall. He had a pretty good idea of what his 

 

liegeman wanted to talk to him about. After all, it wasn’t an accident that he had assigned him to securing the 

 

borderlands in the farthest corners of his land.

 

Cathal Stuart knew about the love affair between Alasdair and his beautiful sister, but no matter how much he loved 

 

Nathaira, he could not allow himself to take her romantic feelings into account where the well-being of his clan was 

 

concerned. His clan needed a strong bond with the McLeans to ensure lasting peace.

 

It was for this reason that she would face her responsibilities and wed his best friend and important ally, Blair 

 

McLean, in the very near future. As far as he was concerned, it was best for Alasdair to not see his sister beforehand.

 

“So, what is it, Buchanan?” Cathal asked when they were walking side by side.

 

“Well, it’s something of the gravest importance to me, and I would prefer not to discuss it in passing. I would like 

 

to present myself to you formally—if you will allow me,” Alasdair explained.

 

“Of course. I suggest you come to my study tomorrow, and we’ll share a cup of beer. Then you can present me this 

 

matter in detail.”

 

Cathal was glad to delay the meeting, for he had more pressing business to attend to. He needed to gather the most 

 

influential men of his clan so he could reassure and appease them before the voices of those questioning his leadership 

 

grew ever louder.

 

“Alasdair, you could do me a service and keep your eyes and ears open for me. I need to know how many of my men are 

 

still loyal to me—and who might stab me in the back,” he asked of his Nordic liegeman. He couldn’t be sure that 

 

Alasdair himself wouldn’t turn against him if he denied him Nathaira’s hand in marriage, but for as long as Alasdair 

 

was unaware of this, Cathal could count on his loyalty.

 

“Aye, I understand. I will keep an ear to the ground.”

 

With that, Cathal exited the Great Hall and walked up the stairs to his chambers, passing his ancestors’ portraits on 

 

the wall. He could feel the Norseman’s eyes on his back the entire time.

 

He slammed the door shut behind him and, exhausted, slumped down into one of his armchairs. These last few days had been 

 

hard and weren’t exactly crowned with success. As he had done so many times before, he cursed his late father for 

 

lacking vision and foresight. How could Grant not have known how much pressure he was putting on his son? Hadn’t he 

 

known that Cathal’s authority would stand on shaky ground?

 

Everything would be just fine if it hadn’t been for those cattle raids. It was as if the Camerons knew exactly what 

 

damage they were inflicting upon him. This pack of lowlifes couldn’t think of a more desirable outcome than for their 

 

long-term enemies to tear themselves to shreds from within.

 

Cathal slipped off his boots. Today, instead of setting out for Burragh, he would drown his anger in whiskey. And 

 

tomorrow he would arrange for his sister’s engagement. Only it wouldn’t be to the man who’d be proposing to her.

 

 

 

Alasdair was content: Tomorrow he would propose to Nathaira. He had been wanting to ask for her hand in marriage ever 

 

since his first assignment in the borderlands, but he hadn’t been able to get near her. He had been told she was ill 

 

and unable to leave her chambers. And not long afterward, Cathal had sent him far away on an urgent mission. Since that 

 

time, his desire for this raven-haired beauty had grown every day. To the outside world, she always acted like a tough, 

 

strong-minded lady who was used to giving orders. But he knew her to be very different. When she lay in his loving, 

 

protecting arms, she allowed herself to be vulnerable.

 

His eyes wandered across the castle yard, full of yearning while searching for his beloved’s face behind every window. 

 

He had no luck. All he noticed was Dougal standing with a squad of sentries. Alasdair strolled over to them. Perhaps 

 

they could tell him where he might find his beloved.

 

“Cannot trust his protection any longer. There are men who are better suited.…” He caught Dougal’s last words just 

 

as he joined the group.

 

The sentries saluted, and Dougal nodded in Alasdair’s direction. “Be that as it may, go think about what I told you.” 

 

He finished his speech and stepped up to the Norseman.

 

“Alasdair, mo charaid. It’s great to be home after all this time, is it not?” he asked.

 

Both men towered over the rest of the men by almost a head. They had fought many a mock fight against each other with 

 

their broadswords, and they knew about each other’s skills and physical strength.

 

Alasdair nodded.

 

“Three months is a long time,” he agreed.

 

“Especially since it was such a wasted time.” Dougal poked the fire. “Not a single Cameron was caught in the act, and 

 

yet many more cows were lost. It is only thanks to my brother that we have at least some information as to the cattle.”

 

“We have information? What kind of information?” Alasdair asked in surprise.

 

Dougal looked over his shoulder at the sentries who were still standing together and sharing a tankard of beer. He put 

 

his hand on his shoulder and led him a short distance away.

 

“Oh, you know, this Cameron woman. Maybe you didn’t notice her when you met up with us at the campsite. After all, 

 

night had already fallen, and your wineskin was keeping us well entertained. Anyway, Cathal sent her away with Blair the 

 

next morning. She was to help take care of Fingal. If you ask me, I would rather die a painful death than allow a wench 

 

like her to look after me.”

 

Alasdair vaguely remembered a woman he had seen that morning.

 

“We would have our cattle back by now if Cathal had only allowed Duncan to question her,” Dougal declared.

 

Alasdair nodded. He had once witnessed the twins “questioning” a man. Not a pretty sight, as far as he recalled, but 

 

it had been effective.

 

“Just imagine—we could have returned home with all our stolen cattle! It would have been a day of celebration for the 

 

Stuart clan. But no, instead we’re returning empty-handed, and my brother’s prisoner is now at Burragh.”

 

“Why don’t you just go get her and question her now?”

 

“We will. As far as I’m aware, several men are setting out for Burragh tomorrow. Ross already rode with Blair, and it 

 

seems that Lady Nathaira was so worried about Fingal’s well-being that she also left for Castle Burragh yesterday.”

 

Alasdair pricked his ears. “Oh, is that so?” he asked.

 

“Aye. Do you want to join in? The McLeans have no shortage of pretty girls on offer. And after three months in the 

 

saddle, I’m sure you wouldn’t mind some fun of the female kind. What do you say, my friend?”

 

“Why wait until tomorrow? I’ve already got one in mind,” Alasdair mumbled, picturing how easy it would be at Castle 

 

Burragh to slip into Nathaira’s bed. Much easier than doing that here, where they would have to hide from the entire 

 

Stuart clan—until, at least, he had formally spoken to Cathal.