Chapter 17

"Ach, Cathleen, could ye come with me fer a moment?"

Cathleen looked up just as everyone was leaving the table to see one of the cooks there, rushing towards her from the kitchens. "What is it?" Cathleen asked, her heart rate picking up even though the cook didn't seem to be in any particular hurry. Everything that had happened had left her on edge, always quick to panic even with the slightest provocation. The mere sound of another person's voice was enough to upset her, her mind quick to jump to the worst conclusions.

Have they found out who I truly am? Have they found out what happened tae Bonnie?

"Me laddie hurt himself with a knife," the cook said, much to Cathleen's relief, before guilt gripped her once more. There was a child who was hurt and she couldn't help but be glad that no one had figured out her ploy.

What kind of person did that make her? How could she ever forgive herself?

"It doesnae seem too deep, but he's bleedin' all over me kitchen an' cryin' himself purple," the cook said when Cathleen didn't move. "Could ye help?"

"O' course." Cathleen shook herself out of the strange trance her panic had induced. "Bring him tae me quarters, I will head there right the now."

It was a distraction for Cathleen, at least, and it meant that no one would try to rope her into a nightcap or a few hours in the drawing room. Then again, they were all careful around her now that Bonnie was gone. They were reluctant to push, as though they feared she would crumble under the pressure.

If she were honest with herself, they were right. It wouldn't take much for her to fall to pieces.

With the excuse of the boy, Cathleen rushed back to her quarters to put some water on the fire and gather her supplies. It didn't take long for the boy to appear at her door, clutching his hand protectively against his chest, and Cathleen forced a warm smile on her lips as she beckoned him closer.

"Come, come," she urged him, pulling out a chair for him. "Ye're Cameron, right? Can ye show me yer hand?"

The boy nodded at the sound of his name and perched himself on the edge of the chair. At first, he was reluctant to give Cathleen his hand, but as she crouched down in front of him, looking at him expectantly, he slowly stretched it out to her and Cathleen saw the bloody rag that his mother must have wrapped around his hand to try and stop the bleeding.

"Tell me if it hurts, alright?" she asked and waited for the boy to nod again before she gingerly removed the rag to examine the injury underneath. The boy winced, but otherwise remained still even as Cathleen poked and prodded at the cut, trying to gauge how deep it was. "Well, ye were very careless with that knife, laddie. But we'll fix this, dinnae fash."

It was a deep cut, one that Cathleen would have to clean and bandage for several days to make sure it wouldn't become infected, especially since he was a young boy who loved to climb and tussle and play in the dirt. Bringing some warm water to the table, she cleaned the wound gently, trying to cause the boy as little discomfort as possible, before applying a salve and dressing the wound with clean cloth. By the time she was done, Cameron was kicking his legs impatiently, the pain nearly forgotten.

"All ready," Cathleen said and the boy grinned at her before he jumped off the chair and hurried off. Cathleen turned to watch him leave as she cleaned her hands on her apron, only to see Deirdre standing at the door, a concerned frown on her face.

"May I come in?" Deirdre asked and though it was the last thing Cathleen wanted, she still nodded. Soon, Cathleen would have to bring Deirdre to that place. Soon, she would have to reveal her true self to her.

Her eyes tracked Deirdre as she sat on the same chair Cameron had occupied only moments prior. She didn't speak as her gaze pierced Cathleen, scrutinizing her until she had to look away herself. It felt as though Deirdre could see right through her, peering right into her soul to discover her lies.

"I ken that we are nae well acquainted with each other yet but I feel very close tae ye, Cathleen," Deirdre said. Cathleen braced herself for the conversation that was to come, pacing back and forth slowly in front of the table. "But if there is somethin' ye wish tae tell me, then I am here tae listen. I willnae judge ye. I only wish tae help if I can."

It was that last sentence which opened the dam for Cathleen. She couldn't hold all that guilt and grief inside any longer. It only served to rot her insides, to fester like a wound in her mind.

Cathleen almost collapsed on the stone floor, clutching onto the table at the last moment to keep herself upright. Tears gathered quickly in the corners of her eyes and then began to stream unbridled down her cheeks, and sob after sob was torn out of her, making it impossible to speak.

Deirdre was patient with her, though. She stood and placed a gentle, comforting hand on her shoulder, her thumb stroking back and forth over the layers of her dress. Cathleen leaned into the touch as though Deirdre was her own sister, seeking all the solace she could find in her, but even that wasn't enough.

Bonnie was gone. Deirdre would soon be condemned to a terrible fate because of her. Macauley would hate her and so would Kian.

"Cathleen, I cannae bear tae see ye like this," said Deirdre. Her expression had twisted into one of painful concern and guilt settled heavy in Cathleen's throat, like a barbed knot that tore at her flesh with every gasp. "Please tell me what's wrong."

"I must tell ye the truth," Cathleen said. Once those words were past her lips, there was no stopping the flood that followed. Even if she wanted to keep fooling Deirdre, even if she wanted to keep her secret and continue with Faolan's plan, the truth tumbled out of her, uncontrollable and unstoppable. "I've been lyin' tae ye. I've been lyin' tae ye all an' I can only ask ye tae forgive me, but I ken ye never can. I… I'm nae who I say I am. Me name's Cathleen MacLaren. I'm the daughter o' the late Laird Colm MacLaren an' cousin tae the current laird, Faolan MacLaren. He is the one who forced me an' me sister tae come here. He has… plans."

"Plans?" Deirdre prompted. "What plans?"

"He wishes tae declare war against ye," Cathleen said. "He sent us here tae lure ye tae him so he can use ye as leverage. He wanted us tae befriend ye an' then betray ye an' I… I didnae have any other choice. He wants to solidify his claim tae the MacLaren Clan an' he thinks the council will support him if he wins this war but he will dae anythin' tae have what he wants. He threatened tae wed Bonnie if we dinnae dae this fer him an' I couldnae allow that, Deirdre. I couldnae. He is a cruel man. Me sister would wilt by his side."

All her words came out in a rush, in one breathless whisper, as though she could hardly bear to hear the truth from her own lips. The entire time, Deirdre listened without speaking a single word.

Cathleen expected her to pull away in disgust, to scream at her, to call for the guards; she did none of those things. She only stood there, her hand on Cathleen's shoulder, her face pinched with worry.

"I suppose that explains the note that I found," Deirdre said, much more calmly than Cathleen could have ever imagined.

"What note?"

Deirdre reached into her pocket and took out a neatly folded note, handing it to Cathleen. She took it, smoothing it out on the surface of the table, quickly reading the short, cramped handwriting.

I took what is mine. Ensure I have Deirdre in a week or suffer the consequences.

Cathleen's hands shook as she grabbed the note and crumbled it viciously in her palms. Tears stained the ball of paper, her lip trembling as she finally turned to look Deirdre. It seemed almost impossible to meet her gaze, still convinced that she would be met with nothing but vicious hatred, the kind of hatred she deserved—the kind of hatred she, too, had for herself.

There was no hatred in her eyes, though. There was no hatred at all.

How can that be? How can she still look at me with such kindness?

"Where did ye find this?" Cathleen asked. It didn't take her long to decipher the message. It was nothing she didn't already know.

"It was here, on the table, when ye were attacked," Deirdre said. "I found it when we heard the commotion an' came here tae see ye."

"An' ye said naething?"

Deirdre gave Cathleen a small shrug. "I wanted ye tae be the one tae tell me. I kent ye would."

"How?" Cathleen asked. "How could ye ken? How could ye allow me tae stay in yer home after ye kent what I did?"

"Because I ken ye're a good person." Taking Cathleen's hands in hers, Deirdre held them tightly and gave her a warm, loving smile. "I'm sure ye had yer reasons."

"I dinnae think they were good reasons," Cathleen said, shaking her head. "I dinnae think there ever could be a good reason fer what I was about tae dae tae ye all. When I found out how… how kind an'… an' good ye all are, I wanted tae put an end tae it. I didnae wish tae help me cousin but I didnae have any other choice. If me cousin threatened me, I wouldnae care, but he threatened me sister. I cannae let him have me sister, Deirdre. I cannae."

"I understand," Deirdre assured her, nodding. "I dae. I ken what it means tae love an' tae wish tae keep yer loved ones safe. Everythin' ye did, ye did it because ye love yer sister, did ye nae?"

Cathleen could only nod, disentangling herself from Deirdre to wipe the tears off her cheeks with the back of her hand. "But it isnae an excuse."

"But I understand," Deirdre insisted. "An' I forgive ye, Cathleen. I promise. I forgive ye."

Once again, Cathleen's eyes filled with fresh tears, spilling out seemingly with no end to them. She never thought forgiveness would be possible. She never thought anyone would understand why she had acted this way, but once again, Deirdre proved how soft-hearted and caring she was, how easy to forgive.

But if Deirdre knew, did it mean that everyone else know, as well? Had she told Kian? Had she told Macauley?

The fear must have shown on her face, as Deirdre pulled her into a tight embrace. "I am the only one who kens," she assured her. "I havenae shown the note tae anyone else."

"Why?" Cathleen asked. If she were in Deirdre's shoes, she would have made sure to inform everyone of the betrayal.

"Because I think Macauley should hear it from ye," said Deirdre. "Ye must think it difficult, but he deserves tae ken the truth an' he deserves tae hear it from ye, nae from me or anyone else."

Deirdre was right, of course. It was a burden she had to carry herself. If Macauley heard from another person, then it would only make it worse.

How can I ever face him an' tell him the truth? How can I look him in the eyes when I already ken I will only see hatred?

With a sigh, Cathleen dried the last of her tears with a trembling hand. She walked over to the chair and collapsed on it, burying her face in her hands for a moment to draw in a few deep breaths.

When she looked up once more, Deirdre was standing there, patient as always. Cathleen managed a tiny, hesitant smile, one that lasted for only a few seconds.

"Forgive me," she said. "I wish ye hadnae met the worst side o' me. I wish… I wish I could have shown ye who I truly am."

"Well, if this is the worst side o' ye, then I'm sure I will adore the best side o' ye," Deirdre said. "Ye are very dear tae me, Cathleen. Dinnae ever think I could hate ye."

Though the guilt still swirled in her stomach, nauseating and heavy like lead, relief washed over Cathleen, too. She could have never thought Deirdre would be so understanding, but then again, she had never been anything but gracious to her and Bonnie.

Standing, she flung herself in Deirdre's arms, who chuckled as she pulled her close. "Thank ye," Cathleen said. "I cannae thank ye enough."

"Ye dinnae need tae thank me," Deirdre assured her. "I only did what anyone would have done."

"Nay," Cathleen said. "Nae everyone."

Only someone like Deirdre could find out such a terrible truth and hold no malice in her heart. And as much as Cathleen wished Kian and Macauley would be just as understanding, she knew the chances of that were slim.