“You think you can keep me safe?” He slapped his hand against his chest. “Me, the cursed lord?”
She smiled softly. “I can try.”
A slight smile remained on his face. That this woman would even think to do the unthinkable amazed him and while he did not want to admit it—let alone feel it—her sincere words touched his heart.
“You will not try,” he snapped, the sudden thought of what might happen to her if she dared to try or dared to show any feelings for him.
Bliss thought to argue, but then thought better of it. It would make no difference. He could bluster and command all he wanted; she would still do what she needed to do to save her sisters.
She did, however, ask the question that seemed to hang over them. “If the two men had been hired to kill you, does that not mean more men will come in an attempt to do the same?”
“That is not for you to worry about. I will see to it,” he said.
She turned a soft smile on him. “Please do not keep me ignorant of this. I prefer to know what is going on and if I can help in any way.”
It surprised him that she was willing to help and not cower in fear, something most women would have done. But then most women would not involve themselves with the cursed lord.
“Are you sure of that?’ Rannick asked, seeing if her bravado was just that.
“I am a healer, Rannick, and healing is much like a puzzle. I go through many questions and possibilities before deciding on how to treat the ailment successfully. That skill makes me good at deciphering problems.”
He was intrigued not only with her interest but with her skill and her desire to help. As a woman and a peasant, she would observe things differently than he did and perhaps cast more light on the problem.
“Many want me dead for the curse alone. Kill me, the only heir to Clan MacClaren, and, in essence, you kill the curse. But I have made it clear that I have no intentions of producing an heir to the clan. This curse dies with me. I will have it no other way.”
“What if fate thinks differently?” she asked since she was there to do the exact opposite of what he intended.
“Fate does not decide my destiny—I do!” he argued.
Life had taught Bliss differently. “I find that fate often has its way.”
A snarl flared Rannick’s lips. “Fate will rue the day it battled with me.”
“What if fate is wiser than us?” she asked.
“Until fate can prove that to me, my life is mine to dictate,” he said with a touch of anger.
She hugged the blanket close, almost like a shield. “But your life is not yours to dictate—the curse dictates it.”
Anger sparked the green flecks in his eyes. “The curse does not dictate me—it dies with me.”
Bliss thought of the tales that circulated about the curse, particularly the one she had thought might help, but had no time to pursue. “What if the curse could be broken?” He stared at her not saying a word for several moments and she waited.
Rannick shook his head, shaking away troubling memories before he responded. “You heard the tale of the witch in the hills. She does not exist. She is nothing more than a myth.”
“How can you be sure?”
“I have searched along with the other two cursed lords, Brogan and Odran, then I searched alone and found nothing,” he said, unable to hide his disappointment.
A heaviness settled in her heart hearing that. It meant her sister Annis’s search would find the same, since she had no doubt Annis would attempt a search to find the witch powerful enough to break the curse. Although, with how tenacious Annis could be when she put her mind to something left a sliver of hope in Bliss that she might succeed where others had failed. Though, her discovery may come too late to help Bliss, it would at least bring peace to many.
“The curse will not touch you if that concerns you. You are not my wife, nor do I have any love for you, therefore, the curse has no interest in you. You are here to satisfy a need, nothing more.”
Bliss could tell by the way the lines between his eyes drew deep that a worrisome thought had struck him.
He spoke his concern without hesitation. “You are a healer. You know what to do to prevent my seed from taking root in you.”
“Aye, I do,” she said, though made no commitment to do so.
“Good. Make sure you see it done, for I will not see you get with child.”
She almost choked on her lie. “As you say.”
“I will have your word on it,” he insisted.
Her word.
How did she keep her word when she had already given her word to another? That question answered it for her.