Ivana nodded. “It would make sense, else why would there be two bodies in one coffin? The second engraving on the lid would suggest so, too.”
“Aye, the scholar mentioned digging for long lost artefacts,” Douglas said. “He promised to show Alistair what he found, but I cannae recall him mentioning it again.”
Isla listened to the conversation intently. Perhaps it was her feelings for Lachlan that led her to imagine a more romantic version of events. The tomb dated back hundreds of years. Had the scholar lived with the affliction for that long? Had he made an oath to someone he loved and finally returned to keep his promise? Or was he righting a wrong made by his ancestors?
They would never know.
“Whatever happened here, one thing is certain,” Ivana said. Isla narrowed her gaze, wondering if the lady had read her mind. “The mark we carry is not a symbol of repression. I always thought it represented the loss of my humanity, a reminder that I belonged to Nikolai.”
“I think you’ll find that these types of marks are often tribal,” Lachlan said in a sympathetic tone. “It obviously meant something to the scholar.”
Isla snorted. “No doubt Nikolai distorted any true meaning behind it and saw it as another way to inflict pain and exert his control.”
Ivana touched her husband’s arm affectionately. “Well, Nikolai was a man of many failings. Now we know that the mark represents a sense of belonging, kinship, and loyalty. Those of us who bear it share all of those things. We are not kin by blood but through our shared struggles and experiences.”
“Well,” Leo began. “I must applaud Talliano for his efforts. Without his tenacity and persistence, there would be no cure for our affliction.”
Isla swallowed deeply. The hour spent in the tomb had helped her to forget her own troubles. Dawn would see her relegated to a pile of ash if she did not leave soon.
“It is so dark down here I have lost all concept of time.” Isla pursed her lips and gazed at Lachlan. “It is time for me to leave. It is time for me to return to the castle and take the cure.” She walked over to the tomb and put her hands together in prayer. She blessed the woman who surely died whilst still suffering from tainted blood. In doing so, she hoped she would be more fortunate. She hoped that her fate followed a different path.
Chapter 12
No one questioned Lachlan’s presence in Isla’s bedchamber. He had expected Douglas to offer some objection, but the old man appeared more subdued since their return from the burial chamber. Although Douglas wasn’t kin, he treated Isla like a daughter and Lachlan suspected he used his jovial manner to hide his anxiety over her peculiar condition.
Lachlan closed the wooden shutters on the windows and drew the heavy drapes as Isla instructed. He turned to face her, his chest tight with a strange sense of foreboding that he tried to dismiss.
“Do you remain in here until the sun sets?” he asked, curious to know of her daily habits. Whilst being confined to her room would not seem such a hardship he imagined the comfortable space would begin to feel more like a prison.
“No.” She sank her hands into the bowl of water and wrung out the linen cloth. “There are a few rooms that remain in the shadows and Douglas knows to keep the shutters closed.”
She took the cloth and wiped her face and neck in slow, soothing strokes. Astounded that such a simple ritual could rouse his desire, he shuffled uncomfortably. Now was not the time to think about his needs.
“I suspect your routine differs in that you sleep during the day and attend to your duties in the evening,” he said in an attempt to distract his mind.
She turned to him and chuckled. “I have not slept for the three years. It is a consequence of the affliction.”
Lachlan shook his head fearing he had misheard. “You don’t sleep? But how can that be?”
“There are many things I cannot explain.” She dried her hands and came over to him. “But with any luck, my troubles will soon be over.”
He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close. “I’ll stay here with you. For however long it takes.” Watching her writhing in pain would be just as torturous for him, but pacing the floor in some other part of the castle, oblivious to her plight, would drive him to the brink of insanity.
She smiled, although the expression of pleasure failed to reach her eyes. “But should you not go home and see your father? Will he not miss your company?”
His father insisted he spend time at Castle Craig. Bridges must be built, friendships rekindled, Ewan Carrick had argued. “Our fathers were firm friends. He would want me to remain here, to care for you and assist you in your hour of need.”
“He has always been a generous man.”
“Too generous,” Lachlan said with a snort. He took a lock of her hair and let it fall through his fingers. “The man has lost all concept of what is needed to manage his estate. His mind has been preoccupied of late.”
She raised her chin in acknowledgement but did not ask questions or pry into his private affairs. “An estate of that size is a huge responsibility for a man of his growing years.” Breaking free of his embrace, she moved to the bed and brushed the wrinkles out of the coverlet. “Will Boyd continue to take care of things when you return to Edinburgh?”
Lachlan frowned. Surely she did not think he could leave her after all that had occurred. She was his — his love, his life, his destiny.
“Why would you assume I’m to return to Edinburgh?”
She gave an odd chuckle though it lacked any hint of amusement. “I am not naive enough to think that what happened between us changes anything. I understand you have experience in such matters and view intimate relations a little differently.”