Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

H is business had dragged on until late into the evening, and he was cold and weary when he opened the door to the room.

"Arne," she said from the bed as soon as he stepped inside. The thrill that shot through his body to hear her voice again, hoarse yet soft as of old, made him sway and grip the doorjamb tightly for support, for it shook him to the core.

Its soft cadence brought so many memories flooding back to him, tender, intimate, loving memories of happy times. Times he had spent the last three years struggling to forget.

But the memories were quickly replaced by the anger and burning need to know the truth, which had become his lifeblood, his means of survival those last three years.

Their eyes locked, and he found himself completely unable to tear his gaze from hers. The air simmered between them with unspoken words.

He nodded, assuming a cold mask, wrapping himself in his anger and pride for protection against the confusion Maeve was evoking in him.

"I got me voice back at last."

His mind screamed silently. Why, Maeve? Why did ye dae it? But he said, "So it seems." He took off his weapons belt and laid it over a chair.

"I almost died out there. I'm grateful that ye saved me."

He shrugged with false casualness. "I didnae ken it was ye. Otherwise, I might have left ye tae drown."

She gave a weak smile. "I wouldnae have blamed ye if ye had."

He did not know what to say to that, feeling strangely awkward in the face of her humility. Inside, he was torn between the need to remain calm and disguise his pain and the urge to shout and rage and scream at her about how much she had hurt him.

"Will ye nae come and sit down by me, so we can talk?" she asked.

"Nay, I'll stand," he replied, so agitated he did not think he could sit still for a moment. He shifted from foot to foot, needing to move around to keep himself under control. He decided not to beat around the bush. "So, how come ye managed tae hide yersel' from me so well fer so long, eh?" he demanded, folding his arms and staring back at her.

"I told ye in me letter nae tae come lookin' fer me, that ye wouldnae find me."

"Ha! And ye really just expected me tae dae that, did ye? Ye hoped I'd just sit back and say, all right, she's gone and left us, me and Thorsten, and just carry on as if naethin' had happened?" he shook his head.

"I told ye in the letter, I'm nae who I said I was." Infuriatingly, she was as calm as a millpond.

"Aye, I ken that all right. How d'ye think that made me feel? Like a bloody idiot tae find out ye'd been lyin' tae me all along, that's how."

"Aye, I'm sorry fer it, Arne. I hated lyin' tae ye. But it was necessary, tae protect the both of us, but most of all, Thorsten."

"Did ye ever ken anythin' about who I am?" he demanded, knowing he was starting to lose his cool. "Did ye nae trust me tae protect the both of ye? More tae the point, who the bloody hell are ye?! Or are ye even gonnae tell me the truth now?"

A grimace of pain passed over her face. "I want tae tell ye the whole truth, of course, I dae. But ye have tae believe me—'tis still much too dangerous fer ye, and fer Thorsten, tae ken everythin'."

"Ach! Of course, it is! That's yer excuse, eh? ‘'Tis too dangerous.' Ye never say why, dae ye? How convenient fer ye. Ye still havenae told me how ye managed tae hide from me fer so long, Maeve."

For a moment, she was silent, merely looking at him as if trying to decide what to tell him. Finally, she said, "I suppose I may as well tell ye me real name now. 'Tis nae Maeve, 'tis Raven."

Suddenly, the memory came to him of what Meg had said when he told her Maeve's name the night he had saved her.

The healer's words echoed in his ears now. "Are ye sure about that?" He realized the healer-witch had known all along the name was false, while he had been laboring under a lie all this time. His anger and resentment threatened to boil over.

He gaped at her wordlessly before repeating the name in an astonished whisper. "Raven?"

"Aye, and me last name's nae Carter either. I was born a MacNeil. Maeve Carter was just the false name I used tae protect mesel'."

"Raven MacNeil? Ye mean that's yer clan?" He was shocked by the admission. The MacNeil's were a respected clan who had their territory further south. He had never imagined that was where she had come from.

"Aye."

"Is that the truth or another of yer lies?" he asked, warning her with his eyes to be truthful.

"'Tis the truth, I swear it."

He scoffed. "That means naethin' tae me. But suppose I chose tae believe ye, tell me, is that where ye've been these last three years, Raven MacNeil, back in yer clan lands?"

"I dinnae want tae lie again, Arne, so can ye stop askin' me questions that force me tae keep doin' it?" she asked, her eyes beseeching. "Ye dinnae ken what me life's been like," she said with some fire. "I've never had a moment's real peace. Since I was eighteen, I've always been runnin'. 'Tis nae life."

"Ach, I dinnae want tae hear about yer self-pity! Fer all I ken, 'tis just more of yer lies." He actually found himself stamping his foot in frustration. "I just want tae ken where ye were. Is that too much tae ask after all ye've done?" he asked, conscious his voice was rising. He pulled himself back sharply from totally giving way to his emotions.

"I cannae tell ye that." She sounded so sad; his heart clenched with pity. He crushed it mercilessly.

"Ach, I suppose ‘'tis too dangerous' again, is that it?"

"Aye, that's it."

"So why are ye here and nae there, then?"

"Why d'ye think? Tae see Thorsten, of course. I've hardly thought of anything else while I was away. He's me son. Our son. I want tae see him."

Arne shook his head, a bitter chuckle escaping his lips. "Nay, that's nae gonnae be possible, nae unless ye start tellin' me what's really been goin' on."

"I'm his maither! I have a right tae see him!" She struggled to lean up on her elbows but was evidently too weak, for she fell back against the cushions. His natural reaction was to go and help her, but he stopped himself. She'll get nay more help from me.

"Ye deserted him and me. Ye have nae rights as far as I'm concerned. Ye're nae seein' him, so ye can forget it. Besides, it would only confuse the lad. He wouldnae understand why he's suddenly got a maither—with a completely different name ttaeo what I've told him tae boot."

"Why, what did ye tell him about me?" Her brow wrinkled, showing lines of strain where none had been before. What had put them there, he wondered.

"What d'ye think I should have told him? That his maither didnae care enough for him tae hang around? That she just took off and left him?"

"What did ye tell him, Arne?"

"I told him ye were dead."

"Ach, Lord above." Pain flashed across her eyes, and she shook her head sorrowfully.

That enraged him. "Ye have a bloody nerve, Maeve, Raven, or whoever ye are. It was better than him thinkin' ye didnae want him, that ye cared naught fer him, or me."

A sob wrenched itself from her throat then, and her eyes glistened with tears once more, plucking painfully at his heartstrings. But he held himself back from giving into the desire to forget everything, to forgive her. I will never forgive her!

That was just the start of the argument that went round and round for hours, well into the night.

"Why have ye come back?" he demanded again angrily, pacing the room.

"I had tae, Arne. I couldnae stay away any longer. I came the first chance I had tae see Thorsten."

"How ye have the audacity tae come back out of the blue like this and make demands about seeing Thorsten is beyond me," he said with cold fury.

"I'll nae give up until ye let me see Thorsten. He's me bairn. I carried him in me belly fer nine months, Arne. I have the right tae see him!" she insisted passionately. "I risked me life tae return tae Harris and see him, and I'll nae let up until ye agree."

She did not dare tell him that she had no idea how long she had left before she was found again and dragged back to her pointless existence on Barra. Or killed. That did not matter to her, for without Thorsten, life was worthless to her.

"So, are ye gonnae let me see him?"

He gave a bitter little laugh. "I think I need tae make sure ye're nae a dangerous person first, eh?"

"What d'ye mean by that?"

"Well, 'tis obvious. I have nay idea who ye really are. It seems tae me I was in love with a woman who didnae really exist. I mean, Maeve? Raven? MacNeil? How am I supposed tae even ken what yer name is let alone who ye really are?"

Raven clenched her fists tightly at her sides, her fingernails digging into her palms as she fought back tears of frustration. She knew it would do no good to lose her temper. A heavy silence reigned between them for several long moments. She held out until Arne broke it.

"I still have some work to do here in the village," he said his voice taut but sounding dangerously reasonable. "If ye stay with me and behave properly, I might, I say might, consider allowing ye tae see the wee lad ye abandoned." His words carried an air of finality, and he turned away from her and laid on his makeshift bed by the fire, turning his back to her, and pulling the blankets around him.

Raven held her tongue, mentally fanning the small spark of hope that leapt within her breast at the suggestion he ‘might consider' letting her see Thorsten. But that did not lessen the pain of him emphasizing that she had ‘abandoned' her child.

That was bad enough, but he was not to know how truly cruel a weapon it

was to use against her. She had been forced to leave Thorsten through no choice of her own. It had been a terrible sacrifice, but one she had made out of love and a wish to protect him. And she could not even tell Arne why, for she would rather die than put either of them in danger.

Whereas Raven knew all too well what it was like to be truly abandoned by a parent one loved and trusted, for through his machinations for wealth and power had her own father not made her once happy life a misery since the age of seventeen?

The thought of anyone thinking she had done the same thing to her own child was almost impossible for her to bear without giving in and spilling out the terrible truth there and then.

Yet she dared not do it.

And she was so exhausted by the arguing and the strain of her situation, that she finally fell asleep.

The next morning, when she woke up after a night filled with unsettling dreams, Raven found she was alone in the room. When she got out of bed to use the chamber pot, she was surprised to find a pile of clean clothes on a chair. She looked thought them. Her stays, petticoat, stockings, with garters, and her shift, all clean and pressed were there.

But there was also a gown of pale blue wool, one she did not recognize but looked new, some shoes, and a woolen shawl. Where had they come from? Had the maid found them for her or had Arne? Whoever it was, she was touched by the care they had taken to find them and leave them for her.

The maid brought her some hot water and some tea and sweet rolls for breakfast. She ate and drank, then slowly washed and dressed and brushed her hair. When she finished, she felt more human than she had since the start of her recovery.

She wondered where Arne was, fearing that he might have simply left her there and gone home. She had to try to find him. If necessary, she would follow him back to Castle MacLeod and keep trying to convince him to let her see Thorsten.

For the first time since the wreck, when Arne had brought her to the room, she left it and went down the stairs to the main part of the inn to find out if anyone knew where he was. The landlord greeted her from behind the counter, which he was polishing with a cloth. He greeted her with a smile of surprise.

"Are ye better then, lass?" he asked cheerfully.

She managed a small smile. "Aye, and I must thank ye all for takin' such good care of me. I'm very grateful."

"It was nay trouble. I'm just glad tae see ye on yer feet again. Some were nae so lucky, sad tae say."

"I'm sorry for them," she said, wishing she could honestly say she felt lucky for surviving when others had not. "Have ye seen Arne?"

He thought for a moment, then said, "I reckon ye'll likely find him out speakin' with the villagers. He's his braither, the laird's, right-hand-man, ye ken. He spends a lot of his time makin' sure the villagers around here have all they need, especially after the recent tragedy. He's a good man."

That made Raven feel even more terrible than she already did. Yes, Arne was a good man who cared for the clansfolk, yet he hated her, the woman who loved him.

The landlord continued, "I think I recall him sayin' somethin' about clearin' away some of the trees damaged by the storm. If ye take a wee walk around the village ye're bound tae find him."

"Thank ye, I'll dae that," she replied, relieved to hear he was still on the island. Wrapping the shawl around her and tying it behind her waist, she ventured outside. The air was cold and fresh, and it made her cough a little, her lungs still fragile from their ordeal. Yet it also cleared her head, which was now free of the pain of the mighty crack she had sustained in the wreck.

She stood for a moment outside the inn, looking about her, seeing the lay of the island properly for the first time. Everything around her seemed as shiny and freshly minted as a new penny, washed clean by the storm. The colors of the trees and grass, the sparkle of the sun on the sea, the gold of the gorse blossoms, and even the clothes on people's backs seemed unusually vivid. After cheating death and being shut up in her sick room for so many days, it seemed to her that the world had been reborn, and her with it. A feeling of exhilaration and hope filled her.

The apparent newness of her surroundings and the fresh air were invigorating, rejuvenating her senses. She enjoyed her walk through the village, with people smiling and nodding at her and wishing her well as they passed. Yet as she walked by the little kirkyard, she paused, seeing the row of fresh graves.

Her heart swelled with sorrow, silently praying that Sandy and his parents were not lying there beneath the earth with the other poor souls who had lost their lives in the wreck. The captain had not been so lucky, it appeared, for she spied his name inscribed on one of the wooden crosses.

She continued her stroll and soon became aware of the sound of men at work in the near distance, accompanied by the rhythmic metallic noise of sawing. She headed in that direction and shortly came across a small group of men gathered around a tree that had been partially wrenched from the earth the gale and was listing dangerously. Her heart leaped to see Arne was among them.