Highland Hunger Read Free Page B

her rising fear, and hope, out of her voice.
    “I do. And, because of these differences, ye think ye are what? Cursed? A witch as those men called you?”
    “Nay, no witch, but, aye, I am cursed, as was my mother and her mother. Grandmother was the first of the women in our family to be burdened with this curse.”
    “Ye are nay cursed, lass. S’truth, I think our families may have joined together at some time in the past. Do ye ken who sired your grandmother?” He frowned when she blushed.
    “Nay. My grandmother was a bastard child. She told my mother that she was born of darkness and violence, that her sire appeared out of the night, took her mother by force, and then disappeared. He ne’er returned.”
    “So, nay even a name for her mother to curse at.”
    “Nay, but Grandmother said that her mother was terrified of the night from that time on and that, when she realized the child born of that night was cursed, she wept. I gather from Grandmother’s tales that the woman wept a lot. But she eventually wed a good mon and Grandmother did as weel. The curse has waned some.”
    “ ’Tis nay a curse.” Raibeart sighed when he caught the glint of fear in her eyes, for he knew he had nearly snarled the words at her. “What did your grandmother eat and could she bear the light of day?” He could see her fear in her eyes, and it was even a light scent upon the air, but he did not know how to ease it. “Nay, dinnae fear. I willnae condemn ye for the truth. ’Tis verra important to me that ye tell me the full truth.”
    “Blood,” she whispered. “Grandmother drank the blood of any slaughtered animal, and she couldnae step outside once the sun rose, but spent the day in the darkest part of the cottage.”
    “She was of my clan then. She carried MacNachton blood.”
    “Are ye saying that your whole clan is cursed?”
    “ ’Tis. Nay. A. Curse.”
    Una lightly bit her bottom lip to suppress the sudden urge to smile. The way he bit out those four words and scowled at her should have frightened her, but it did not. Not even a little.
    “Then what do ye call it?” she asked. “I cannae think it some wondrous gift or blessing, nay when it stirs others into a dangerous fear, causing them to decry one as a witch.”
    Raibeart sighed and dragged a hand through his hair. “Nay, although it should be seen as a gift. There has to be some good reason for the MacNachtons to be what they are.”
    “But ye dinnae ken what that good reason is yet, do ye?”
    “Nay, but that doesnae matter now. What matters is that ye are of our blood, our kin, a MacNachton. Our laird has been sending us out to hunt for ones like you. Our ancestors were a brutal lot, arrogant in their strength and power. For a long time they harried all the nearest villages, taking what they needed or wanted. There are still whispers about them, tales of the Nightriders used to keep the bairns close to home at night. It was recently that we were shown that they had left behind more than pain, destruction, and dark tales. We found ones of our blood, ones bred of that dark time, and now we search for more of them. We call them the Lost Ones.”
    “How could ye nay ken that bairns could have been born of such raids, of the taking of the women?”
    “Because MacNachtons breed few children. Our laird believes that is because we have been too much alone, breeding only amongst our own kind. That begins to change.”
    He looked at her, studying her expression closely but seeing only curiosity and just a hint of disbelief. The latter was no surprise. The truth about his people was difficult for most Outsiders to believe, and she had been raised as an Outsider.
    “But that is of no importance now,” he continued. “What matters now is what ye were running away from and whether that trouble has aught to do with the MacNachtons.” He handed her his wineskin. “Drink this. It will make ye grow stronger.”
    It took but one taste for Una to know that the wine was