Page 76 of Dark Victory

She paused, still unable to get enough air to adequately breathe. But it felt as if she had lost so much—her lover, and maybe the new, passionate and unbridled Tabby Rose.

Well, that was just tough luck, she told herself harshly.

She did not want to think about Macleod saving her and the children, or defending her from the ghost. She did not want to think about his rare smile, or the way he looked at her, once in a while, during lovemaking, when his eyes changed and almost softened. Instead, she reminded herself to think about their arguments. The truth was, she had lost a lover and a partner in war, but not a friend. She had no right to feel upset for herself. It was Coinneach she must focus all of her attention on now.

But Macleod was suffering, too.

Tabby tensed. She did not want to think about how he had fought as hard as he could to save his family during the massacre. She did not want to remind herself about how he had grieved and raged while burying them at sea, a boy suddenly required to become a man.

Tabby sank down onto a small wood bench. She began to tremble, overcome with despair. She could no more turn off her compassion for him than she could send herself back to New York. She hated what he’d been through, the grief he kept repressed inside himself. But so what? Coinneach was going to be murdered by his command if she didn’t do something.

Maybe she wasn’t at Blayde in 1298 to heal Macleod after all. Maybe she was there to save an Innocent. Or maybe, just maybe, she was meant to do both.

She felt the morning still.

How could the man who made love to her so passionately, who looked at her with so much concern, who was determined to risk his life for her, be one and the same with the man she’d just argued with in the hall?

How could he insist on protecting her, but intend to execute Coinneach the way he’d beheaded Angel—without blinking an eye, without a drop of remorse?

The answer was simple. That cruel, violent side was a direct result of his having survived the massacre.

She sat up even straighter. Macleod was the product of the most extreme and arbitrary injustice and violence. And that was exactly what he was meting out.

I can’t hate him, she thought grimly.

Coinneach had to be saved, but Macleod had to be saved, too.

As Tabby sat there in the mist, a soft warmth flooded her. She jerked, glancing around. “Grandma?”

Her grandmother’s reassuring and powerful presence was so strong and comforting that Tabby expected her to materialize before her. But she did not appear. It didn’t matter. Tabby knew she was smiling.

And that meant she had reached the right conclusions. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Would you mind staying around for a while? I am feeling a bit lost and lonely.”

Of course there was no answer.

“Lady, come in out of the rain,” Peigi said softly.

Tabby turned, realizing Peigi had heard her talking to her grandmother’s spirit. Her expression was one of pity. It was hard to believe that only an hour or so ago, she and Peigi had been joking about her having cast a love spell. It was surreal. The stakes had dramatically changed.

She realized she was not ready to confront Macleod again. In fact, considering she was preparing to blatantly defy him, avoiding him was a really good idea. He could read her mind, after all.

“Ye’ll catch yer death,” Peigi warned.

She glanced across the compound. “No, that boy will catch his death.”

“Aye, he’ll die, but thieves must be punished. We dinna have enough cattle to feed all o’ Blayde, lady,” Peigi tried. “The Macleod canna allow thieves to go free. He must set an example.”

Tabby stared. Peigi did not find this punishment unusual or excessive. It was a bit of a slap in the face. She was a modern woman, applying her standards to a very different world. She might be the only one at Blayde sympathetic to Coinneach, she realized.

She suddenly wished she could convince Macleod that her values were right. But she had no doubt that he could not be transformed into a man with modern sensibilities.

“Ye canna question the Macleod, lady. Besides, ye ken the boy came here to murder him.”

“Oh, I can question Macleod, and I will.” Tabby stood up. She was back to her earlier position, she realized. “That boy will die because his ancestors betrayed Macleod’s father. Do you really think that’s right, Peigi?”

“’Tis our way. Here, yer brat’s soakin’.” Peigi handed her another wool plaid, her expression grim. “Please come inside.”

“I think it best to avoid Macleod. He’s angry, and I am determined to stop him from executing Coinneach.”