A Fire Within (These Highland Hills, Book 3) (32 page)

"The wound. How did Dar's wound appear? Is he finally on
the mend?"

Her sister-in-law shot her a slanting glance. "Aye. It's healing
verra well. No festering, no reopening of the cut, and only the most
minimal of tenderness now and mainly just with movement."

With that, Anne went back to her work, measuring out additional amounts of ground herbs into several other small jars.
Caitlin waited, her impatience growing, hoping for further news
about Dar without having actually to ask it, but her efforts were
to no avail. It was evident that if she wanted information, she
was going to have to come right out and demand it.

"So, aside from his wound-which I'm verra glad to hear is
finally healing-how is he doing?" she asked at last. "Does he
appear to be handling his incarceration well? Did he say aught
of... of what he hoped would become of him?"

Caitlin stopped, realizing how silly and pointless this was all
sounding. How well would any Highlander, born and bred to
the unfettered freedom of mountain and glen, tolerate being
confined to a dark, dank hole in the ground?

"Och," she cried in frustration, "just tell me what he said and
how he looked! I'm beside myself with worry over him and ...
and I miss him so!"

Anne stopped her work, reached over, and took Caitlin's hand.
"He misses ye too, lass. I could tell, though getting him to admit
aught of his feelings for ye was harder than pulling a thorn from
an injured wildcat. He guards his heart verra closely, especially
things most close to his heart."

Tears stung Caitlin's eyes. "H-he misses me? He said that?"

"Nay." Anne smiled and shook her head. "Not in so many
words, but a woman can tell." She paused, her smile widening to
a grin. "He's also a verra charming man. Once he lets his guard
down a bit. I can see why ye're so attracted to him."

"I never said I was attracted to him."

Even as Caitlin uttered the denial, a telltale flush warmed her
cheeks. And it only worsened at the knowing look her friend
shot her.

Och, what was the use? She had always been a poor liar. And
she had never been able to fool Anne for a minute.

"Aye, I'm attracted to him," she murmured, looking down.
"More than attracted to him, if the truth were told." She glanced
up. "Ye must think me a fool, once again to give my heart to a
man so unsuited to me."

"And is that what ye think? That he's unsuited to ye?"

Sadness swelled within Caitlin. "Not in the ways that truly
matter. Nay, never in that. But he's a broken man from a proscribed clan. Can ye think of aught more unsuitable for any lass,
much less the sister of a chief of Clan Campbell?"

"When first I came to Kilchurn, there were many who thought
me unsuited to the clan tanist-a lowly MacGregor and suspected
witch, no less. And ye, if I recall, were one of those."

Caitlin inhaled a deep breath. "Aye, I was one of those, leastwise for a time. But what fools we all were."

"Mayhap, in time, the same might be said for Darach. Perceptions can change, if given time and the right opportunities."

"He's a good man, Anne." Caitlin gazed deep into her sisterin-law's eyes. "He's honest and true, and pretends to naught that
he really isn't. Indeed, he doesn't even realize how wonderful
he is, or that he has friends who not only care about him but
respect him."

Something flickered in Anne's silver gaze. "Speaking of friends, that older man Goraidh. Did ye know Niall offered him his freedom, and he refused it unless Darach was freed as well?"

Caitlin frowned. "Nay, I didn't. But that proves my point. Dar's
friends, however few they may yet be, are verra loyal to him."

"Well, I gave them leave to visit with each other for a time.
Hopefully, that'll improve both their moods a bit, not to mention
answer some of Darach's questions about his friend." Anne picked
up the pot. "I need to fetch more hot water from the kitchen.
Do ye want to come along?"

"And what questions might they be?" Caitlin fell into step behind the auburn-haired woman as she walked from the room.

"The fact that Goraidh not only refused to leave until Darach
was freed, but also claimed he was even more deserving of punishment than Darach."

"What a strange thing for a holy man to say."

"Aye, I thought so as well."

Her thoughts racing, Caitlin followed Anne into the kitchen.
Maudie was busy overseeing the final preparations for the evening
meal. Servants bustled to and fro, filling bowls with steaming
vegetables and platters with countless halves of roasted chickens
before handing them to other servants to carry to the Great Hall.
As Anne made her way to the large pot of water always kept hot
on the hearth, another servant hurried in, a tray of covered dishes
in her hands.

"What a waste of time that wee trip was," the girl exclaimed
to Maudie as she set the tray on the big worktable beside her.
"Neither of them wanted to eat aught of yet fine meal. Ye'd think
they were both royalty, rather than the verminous villains they
really are!"

The head cook looked up from the loaf of fresh-baked bread
she was slicing. "Well, I'm sure being locked in a dungeon would
eventually take the edge off anyone's appetite."

The servant laughed. "Och, that's not the half of it! Dougal told me they'd all but ended up in a fight earlier, with the younger
one demanding that the older one be escorted from his cell. Just
like he was some noble, I tell ye, putting on airs and ordering
the guards about."

Caitlin's and Anne's gazes locked. Concern gleamed in Anne's
eyes. More than concern, however, burned beneath Caitlin's
breast.

Dar and Goraidh had almost gotten into a fight? That didn't
sound like either of them. Something was terribly wrong.

She turned and headed for the door, ignoring Anne's call to
wait. Though Niall may have banned her from contact with Dar,
he hadn't said she couldn't visit the hermit. One way or another,
before this day was done, Caitlin meant to find out what had
happened to drive such a wedge of animosity between the two
men.

Dougal eyed Caitlin with misgiving. "Begging yer pardon, m'lady,
but I'm not certain yer brother would be wanting ye down here,
much less visiting the prisoners."

"Niall doesn't want me visiting Darach MacNaghten," she
replied, struggling to hide the exasperation that threatened to
spill over into her voice. "He said naught about visiting the hermit."

"Aye, but-"

"And, since Niall has already offered to free the man," Caitlin
hurried to press her point, "it's not as if he poses any danger to
any of us."

"Aye, but-"

"Enough, Dougal." She gestured toward Goraidh's cell door.
"If Niall tries to lay blame upon ye, I'll vouch for yet numerous
and most hearty protests. Not that he will."

The head guard expelled a long-suffering sigh. "Fine. Have it
yer way. But, just to be safe, I'm going to shackle him, just like
I always do with the younger one. I'll take no chances on either
of them laying hands on ye."

"He's a holy man, Dougal! Ye needn't-"

The guard held up a silencing hand. "Those are my terms. If ye don't like them, then ye'll just have to take it up with yet
brother."

It was Caitlin's turn to sigh. "Suit yerself. Just go gently with
him, if ye will."

Dougal picked up the large ring of keys and headed for Goraidh's cell door. "Och, and I'm always the soul of gentleness,
m'lady. Ask any of the prisoners who spend time down here."

Five minutes later, Caitlin entered the cell to find the hermit
chained to the wall beside his bed. She waited until the head guard
left the room, then firmly closed the door in his face.

Though Dougal may have construed the act as one of rudeness,
Caitlin knew of his tendency to eavesdrop and then spread the
gossip throughout Kilchurn. And what she had to say to Goraidh
and he, most likely, to her, surely involved Dar. None of which
was anyone else's business.

The older man sat in the far corner of his bed, or leastwise
as far as the length of chain would allow him. It was enough,
however, to hide his face in shadow.

"So, what have ye heard?" His somber voice rose from the
darkness. "I assume the tale of what happened between Darach
and I has already spread throughout Kilchurn?"

Caitlin walked over to stand before him. Even in the dimness of the corner, Goraidh's blue eyes glinted unnaturally
bright. Whatever had transpired earlier, she realized, had been
painful.

"I can't say how far the news has spread, but I overheard the
maid who brought back both yet uneaten suppers complaining
about it. And that ye and Dar had some sort of falling-out."

"Falling-out?" Goraidh gave an unsteady laugh. "Well, I suppose that's one way of naming it. He hates me now, lass, and
never wants aught to do with m-me." His voice broke. "Och,
dear Lord, dear Lord! When it comes to Darach, what more can
I possibly do wrong?"

Dread rose to entwine about Caitlin's heart. Her hands fisted
at her side. Och, what had he done?

"Might I sit beside ye?" she asked instead, indicating the
bed. "Whatever has happened, I'd prefer it go no further than
ye and L"

He nodded. "Suit yerself."

She climbed up on the bed to sit close, but facing him. "Now,
tell me all," Caitlin demanded softly. "I cannot help either of ye
if I don't know what happened."

"Nay, ye can't, to be sure," Goraidh mumbled, looking down
at his shackled hands. "Though there's no hope of help for me,
mayhap ye can still help Darach. Indeed, ye're likely the only one
who can, if any can."

"Ye know I'll do whatever possible." She reached over and took
one of his shackled hands. "Now, tell me. What happened?"

He squeezed her hand, then sighed. "I finally told him the
truth. That Brochain was never his true father. That, instead, I
was...

As Caitlin listened to Goraidh's agonized tale, her emotions
swung from shock to anger to compassion for the older man.
At the same time, her concern for Dar grew by the minute.
Would he never find some peace and resolution in his life, some
happiness?

"Ye must find a way to see him, speak with him, lass," the
hermit finished at last, the tears coursing now down his cheeks.
"I didn't want to leave him or Muira. I swear to ye that I didn't.
But I s-saw no other w-way. ..."

He buried his face in his hands and began to sob.

There was always another way, Caitlin thought, her anger
rising anew. But it was so like some men to run when things got
unpleasant, rather than stay and fight. David Graham had done
that, as well, when the time had come for him to make a commitment. Goraidh had done the same and left Muira, and eventually Dar, to bear the consequences alone. Dar, alone, had tried to stay
and fight for his Nara, until he was cast out of his clan.

But none of this was of any help to Goraidh. It was evident he
had paid a terrible price for his desertion, however honorable he
may have convinced himself it was at the time. Now, all that was
left him-and Dar-was to find some way to repair the damage.
If there was any hope of repairing such a chasm of pain, misguided
intentions, and now long-dead opportunities.

After a time, Goraidh finally regained control of himself. "I've
failed him, I have, at every turn," he managed to choke out.
"Mayhap I should never have told him the truth, but I'd carried
the secret for so long. And I needed to make amends, if I could.
If he would let me. Yet, instead, all I did was hurt him even more
deeply than if I'd never told him the truth at all."

"Aye, ye caused Dar great pain. Ye failed to be the father he
always needed, a far better father than the one Dar had forced
on him instead. And ye ran away when it would've been more
difficult to stay." Caitlin dug a handkerchief from a pocket of
her gown and handed it to Goraidh. "Nonetheless, at long last
ye did the right thing. And, as distressing a revelation as it was
to hear, Dar needed to hear it."

Goraidh blew his nose and wiped away his tears, then smiled
wryly at her. "Ye aren't the sort to soften yet words, are ye, when
hard things must be said?"

"Nay, I'm not, and it's oft been my undoing." She smiled
back. "Mayhap I feel I can say this because, in these past weeks,
I've learned about running away myself, and how easy it is to do
so instead of seeing the Lord's hand in the life and people we're
given. Sometimes, staying is so verra much harder than leaving.
But sometimes, when we flee the pain or unpleasantness, in the
doing we sacrifice the opportunity to grow closer to God. We
forfeit the cross that is and has always been our verra own."

"As I fooled myself into imagining I was doing the better thing by leaving them," the hermit said with a rueful nod. `And, though
I tried in the time I spent on Iona to be a good and holy monk, it
was never what the Lord truly wished of me. It was but my own
fear and pride that drew me away from where I was really meant
to be. I chose the easier-and far less holy-path."

"Ye were young. Ye thought ye were doing the best for Dar
when yer brother told ye he'd raise him as his own," Caitlin said,
the certainty-and understanding for the youthful, inexperienced
Goraidh-growing within her. It wasn't such a hard leap, after
all. She had done the same so many times herself.

"Ye thought ye were saving Muira from the shame of others
knowing of her infidelity. To walk away, when yet heart was surely
begging ye to stay, must have been the hardest thing ye ever did.
But ye did it out of love, and from a hope for a better life for the
two people ye loved the most."

"Aye, I thought all those things," the hermit said glumly. "I
meant well. But I was still wrong. I was still weak and foolish
and, ultimately, a coward."

"But now ye're neither weak, nor a fool, nor a coward. And
there's naught any of us can change about what has passed. There's
only today, and the next, and the next to deal with. And there's
always hope. Hope in God. Hope that He will bring a fire within
us all, to cleanse away the pride and sin and fill us anew with
wisdom. With forgiveness ..."