Nathaira and Alasdair nodded in agreement, which made me feel even more uncomfortable. I reached for Payton’s hand. He twitched in pain at my unexpected touch.
“Sorry,” I whispered.
He squeezed my hand and smiled.
“How sweet,” snarled Nathaira.
Great, we had attracted her attention. But I knew she wouldn’t have let me out of her sight, anyway.
“I fear, Payton, that the love sessions are over for you two now. That girl is harming us. But not for long. We can make sure of that!”
Everyone started speaking all at once. It was all in Gaelic, but they were obviously talking about me. I was relieved to see that Payton and his brothers were still standing by my side. The exchange of words got louder and more aggressive by the minute. Then suddenly, the volume dropped, and we could all hear the sound of Ashley crying.
I gathered all my courage and used the break to my advantage.
“May I please say something, too?” I said. “This all has to do with the Cameron clan, doesn’t it? I understand that you want to clear things up with me, but you don’t need Ashley here. I’m the one you really want. She has absolutely nothing to do with it.”
“Is she not your cousin? Your own blood?” Alasdair asked roughly.
“Yes, but my mom’s side is the Cameron one. Ashley’s mom is my dad’s sister. She’s not a Cameron.”
To prove it, I pulled Grandma’s book out of my jacket pocket and pointed to the last page. There, at the bottom of the family tree, stood my name.
I lifted the book up, moving it from one side of the group to the other so that everyone could see what was written there.
“What is that? Where did you get that?” Cathal asked.
“I found it, purely accidentally, in my grandmother’s attic when we were clearing out her belongings after she died. It seems someone named Marta McGabhan started these notes.”
“Who is this Marta supposed to be?” Alasdair asked.
Since I had some leverage, it seemed like a good time to make a second attempt to get Ashley out of there.
“I’ll tell you later, but first, you need to let Ashley go. As you can plainly see, you don’t need her.”
Nathaira started to contradict me, but Payton cut her off.
“Exactly,” he said. “This all seems to be between me and Sam. It’s only when I am near her that I’m in such unbelievable pain—and only when we are close to her that our self-healing abilities are affected. Samantha’s cousin has nothing to do with it. We should let her go.”
Cathal and Nathaira’s eyes met briefly. I held my breath. At last, Cathal went to the bed, cut the ropes, and pulled Ashley to the door.
Turning to Blair, he growled, “I hope she’s worth it for you.”
“May I remind you, I am the one being betrayed here,” Blair said. “The three of you have created this divide and abused my trust.” Blair opened the door for Ashley and demanded of Cathal, “And now, let her go!”
Cathal released his steely grip on Ashley’s arm, and she ran off crying.
I saw the relief in Sean’s face as the door closed behind her. It looked as if a great stone had rolled away from his heart. It was obvious to me that his feelings were almost back to full strength, and I hoped the others didn’t notice how much weaker the curse had become.
With all eyes on me again, I felt really sick. My heart was beating like a drum, and my blood was pounding in my ears. I had never felt so scared before in all my life.
“Cathal, I have found something out,” Payton started. There was a layer of sweat on his forehead, and the tendons stood out on his arms. He was still holding my hand, standing close by my side, but his face stayed blank.
“About the curse. That witch, Vanora, wrote everything down. Blair and I found her writings on Fair Isle. She had a vision before our attack. She saw almost everything in advance. In her last letter, she wrote that there would be a possibility to lift the curse. We don’t have to harm Samantha. There is another way!”
“And what is that supposed to be? I can hardly wait to hear about it,” Alasdair said snarkily.
Somewhat abashed, Blair confessed, “We are not really sure. Supposedly, the witch had a daughter who would lift the curse.”
Cathal shook his head in disbelief. “A daughter? Who would bed a witch? And anyway, that child would long be dead.”
“We don’t know that. We ourselves are the best proof that she could very well still be alive. We must not forget that her mother had extraordinary powers,” Payton explained.
Nathaira had gone white, but her closed expression gave no hint of her racing thoughts.
“Sguir, mo nighean. Mo gràdh ort.” That was what the crazy old woman had said the night of the massacre. In all her years, Nathaira had never forgotten that moment. The moment the dying witch claimed that Nathaira was her daughter—and told her that she loved her.