Rory didn’t know why he hadn’t stayed down on the ground, lowered his eyes, and kept out of the headmaster’s way from then on. But he’d been unaccountably angry. He’d been furious to have to start over at a new school, at the lecture his father had given him, at the disappointment in his parents’ faces. He’d been angry at himself for causing that disappointment, but he saw now he’d been too immature to place the blame where it belonged. He blamed everyone else, not least of all Headmaster Niall Cameron.
“We called him Camerarse behind his back,” Rory said after relaying the basics of life at St. Andrew’s.
Genevieve looked up at him, eyes twinkling. “Knowing young boys, I’m sure you couldn’t keep that pet name a secret.”
Rory wished he could smile. “No, he heard it and punished us. Punished me. He didn’t need a reason to beat me. He hated me from the start.” He told her how Cameron had struck him at their first meeting.
“Men like that shouldn’t be allowed around children. They’re weak and seek to make themselves feel strong by bullying those weaker than them.”
Rory blinked in surprise. He’d never thought to consider why Cameron had behaved as he had, but Genevieve’s assumption was as good as any other. “I suppose I didn’t help matters by taunting him then,” Rory said. “After he backhanded me, I stood up, put my hands on my hips, and said, ‘I’m not scared of you.’”
“Oh, Rory.” Genevieve hugged him tighter.
“He flew into a rage and really beat me then. And he was right. It did hurt to breathe. When Henry and King arrived a few days later, they barely recognized me because my face was so bruised.”
Her jaw was tight, her green eyes as hard as emeralds. “I may have to murder the man myself. Knowing you, you didn’t stay out of his way.”
Rory shrugged. “I don’t think I could have if I tried. He hated me. Probably because I affected a false sense of bravado. I did it with everyone and everything back then. He told me once it was his personal mission to break me. He wanted to be the one to make me cry. I never gave him that satisfaction. No matter how he starved me or beat me or threatened me.”
Genevieve sighed, and the anguish in her expression spoke volumes.
“It was that damn drive to prove myself the bravest, the strongest, the one who cared the least for any consequences that contributed to my going along with the plan to steal the whiskeyfrom the witch that night. We should have stayed in the school, warm and dry in our beds. Instead, we had to prove we were braver than all the other lads. Underneath it all, I was terrified.”
“Of course you were,” she said. “You were little boys.”
He was loath to leave the chair and the comfort of his wife, but he feared he’d lose his nerve if he didn’t act directly. “I will write Henry back tonight and tell him I’ll arrange to return to Scotland. King will need money to travel. I’ll write to my solicitor to make certain he has the funds he requires.”
“What can I do to help?”
“You can oversee the packing. You’ll need warm clothing—both you and Frances. Make a list of what you have, and we’ll buy anything you’re lacking before we go. I won’t leave until I hear back from Henry and King. Once we’re all agreed on when and where to meet, we’ll leave directly.”
“Then we’d better be packed and ready.” She rose, took his hand, and pulled him to his feet. But when he would have gone to his library to see to his correspondence, she pulled him to her and kissed him. “Leave it until tomorrow, Rory,” she murmured. “I need you.”
She led him to their bedchamber, where she undressed him and drew him into bed and then into her arms. For the first time in his life, a woman made love to him. He let her take control, let her make him forget, let her bring him pleasure. After, when he held her, his eyes heavy and his body sated, he couldn’t help thinking that even though she’d said she needed him, the truth was he needed her. He’d always needed her far more than she needed him.
*
The weather turnedcolder seemingly overnight. The summer had lingered, and then let go so abruptly that the chill in the airwas almost shocking a few days later, when Rory went for a ride early in the morning. He’d always enjoyed riding early, but he’d stopped right after his marriage, preferring to stay in bed with his wife.
Now, with their trip looming, he slept poorly and was up hours before Genevieve and Frances. Dawn had barely broken when he took his horse out, the breath from both horse and rider lingering in the air.
Although Lilacfall Abbey was the most beautiful in the spring and early summer when the lilacs were in bloom, framing the house and grounds with swaths of purple, he enjoyed the fall the best. The leaves on the trees turned vibrant oranges, yellows, and reds. The air in the morning was crisp and the ground swirled with early morning fog.
He rode the horse at an easy pace, enjoying the streaks of pink light in the eastern sky as the sun began to rise. The path he took was away from the wooded area of his land, on a clear path that bordered the fields of a neighbor. Rory noted the harvest was almost complete, and the fields lay barren and abandoned.
Something moved in the field, and Rory halted his horse. The beast made a sound of unease and pranced until Rory was able to calm her. Only then did he realize the object he’d seen wasn’t an animal but a person. One of the men hired to help with the harvest?
“Good morning!” he called out.
The figure moved toward him, shrouded in a dark cloak with the hood pulled tight around his face.
“Are you lost?” Rory asked, still struggling to contain the mare, who did not like the look of the figure at all. He urged his horse closer, and Rory realized it was either a small man or a woman. When the figure raised its head, Rory saw it was indeed a woman—a very old woman, her face deeply lined.
She crooked a finger at him, beckoning him closer. Rory had the urge to turn his horse and ride away—the mare certainly had that same idea. Instead, he dismounted, gave the horse a pat on the rump, and walked to the woman. “Do you need assistance?” he asked. He didn’t know why he said it. She didn’t need assistance. He knew who she was even before he drew closer, and her hood fell back, revealing her long white hair.
The witch had come for him. King and Henry both mentioned having seen her. Now, she’d come for him.
“I dinnae need assistance,” she said. “Ye do.” Her voice was soft with a Scottish accent. He hadn’t expected to hear the kindness in her tone or the see the small smile on her lips. The sun was still low, and the shadows might be deceiving him.
