She would never be able to escape them, she knew. They were a part of her now, settled into the section of her heart that held love—and the section that held pain. Jonet couldn’t help giving in to the rumors, couldn’t help wondering if perhaps she had been the reason for their deaths in the first place.
After all, Murdock had been completely fine. A healthy, handsome, happy man. It was not until they had been betrothed, not until she was rooted in his life that he died so suddenly. As for Henry, he was a man who had spent nearly all his life hunting wild animals, yet he disappeared the day he told her he would bring her back her favorite meat. Jonet could not help wondering if she truly was cursed and if she was destined to be alone.
If that were the case, she would never marry again. She had said as much to her parents and, though she knew they were disappointed by her decision, she thought they understood. Jonet did not think she could live with herself if there was another death on her hands. She would not be able to look herself in the mirror.
That is why I cannae marry Matthew, nay matter what Faither says. Whether I trust him or nae, he will only die if he is betrothed to me.
Jonet nodded to herself, determination coursing through her body. She would reject his advances and fight her father every step of the way if so be it. She could not be married, not if the curse truly were real and he would only die as a result.
The comforting stone walls passed by in a blur. Her father’s many spoils hung between the large open windows, as a soft breeze wafted by her and made the large doors they passed shudder. Above her head, candles waited for nightfall to be lit, but for now, the hallways were filled with white sunlight of the airy castle.
“If ye keep talking to yerself like, ye will run right into a wall.”
Jonet drew to a halt at the familiar voice and she smiled. It was her uncle, her father’s brother, Dougal MacTavish. By his side was his nephew, from his late wife’s side.
“It wouldnae be the first time,” Jonet replied.
Dougal’s face folded into a mass of lines as he gave his wide-toothed smile, his eyes virtually disappearing from sight. He greatly resembled the Laird, with deep, unruly red hair that he allowed to grow as it wished, and dark brown eyes. “Aye, ye’re right, lass. Though, I suppose those times havenae made ye see that ye should take yer head out the clouds and focus on the world around ye.”
“Come now, Dougal,” said the man by his side, in a gentle, amused tone. “Ye ken her absentmindedness is her best trait.”
Jonet turned her attention to him. His name was Jonathan Barcley, a fact that had taken her quite some time to remember when he had first come to live in the castle. He had arrived to train under Dougal to become a war chieftain. Jonathan had been living in the castle for a few years now, but Jonet had never had the opportunity to spend a lot of time with him. She had only spoken with him at length a few times, usually during dinner, and had learned that he was quite nice, albeit a bit quiet for a man aspiri
ng to be a war chieftain.
She supposed it had something to do with his upbringing. He was the last child of a family of ten, and so he had expressed to her how he had been a little neglected. Which was why he wished to be trained in the first place.
“Me best trait, ye say?” she repeated, tilting her head to the side. “Ye think so?”
“I ken so,” Jonathan said confidently, holding her gaze with his brown eyes.
She focused all her attention on Jonathan, a feat she had never cared to do before. “Nae me humor or me kindness, but the fact that me mind wanders,” she watched as Jonathan’s warm smile widened.
“Aye, that’s what I said.” He was beaming. Jonet blinked. He was rather handsome, now that she was giving him a good look. “Ye daenae think so?”
“Watch it, Jon,” Dougal cut in, his voice rumbling with rising laughter. “Ye ken how fiery her temper can get. Ye best watch what ye say.”
“I’m nae afraid.” Jon declared boldly.
“Maybe ye should be,” Jonet responded, blinking innocently.
Dougal tipped his head back and laughed loudly. It forced a chuckle out of Jonet and Jonathan, and the latter regarded her with glittering eyes.
“Ye always ken how to make me laugh, Jonet,” Dougal said. He rested a heavy, hairy hand on her shoulder. “Just like ye mother.”
“Well, since she cannae leave her bed, she’s charged me with the duty of bringing laughter to the hallways,” Jonet replied.
“Ye’ve done a good job of it,” Jonathan smiled.
“Aye, that she has,” Dougal agreed. “All right, we best be off. We’ve stood around talkin’ long enough now.”
“Where are ye headin’?” Jonet inquired, eyes darting from Dougal, to Jonathan, then back.
It was Jonathan who responded, a little more eager than she had expected. It surprised her a little. “To hunt. Ye are welcome to come if ye wish.”
The moment the words were out of his mouth, Dougal smacked him in the back of his head. “Daenae go puttin’ thoughts into her head. Ye ken she will want to take ye up on it.”
Jonet chuckled. “Ye daenae need to worry about me. I have nay wish to follow ye huntin’. Faither will have me head if I even dare to. And Maither will only wear herself out tryin’ to smack me if she ever finds out.”