The Legend Mackinnon (15 page)

M
aggie yanked the door open as Cailean was shoving it from her side. She stumbled back as her cousin charged in. There were deep shadows under Cailean’s eyes and she wore the same clothes she’d had on the day before.

“Did you stay up all night reading those journals?” Maggie asked

Cailean grabbed Maggie’s arms, desperation in her eyes. “Shut up and listen to me. I found out why I’m here. There’s a curse.”

“A curse? You mean the legend Lachlan wrote about?”

“It’s real. Read this.” She shoved a journal in her hands and flipped it open to where she had a paper stuck inside. Cailean stabbed her finger halfway down one page. “Here.”

I’ve exhausted all my energy and too many years of my life, but it has been worth it. The Legend MacKinnon is no myth but truth. And I have found the source from which these tales were spun. And what is more fitting between two warring clans than a curse? The tragic endings to each and every Claren-MacKinnon union from that time forward is no coincidence. The tales these
doomed unions spawned created a Legend of truth. A truth that began three hundred years ago
.

Maggie looked up to find Cailean’s gaze boring into hers. “He’s really Duncan MacKinnon, isn’t he?” she asked. “The Duncan MacKinnon that was born in the late seventeenth century.” Desperation still tinged her expression, along with acceptance and a healthy dose of fear.

Maggie looked over her shoulder, expecting Duncan to answer. In fact, she was surprised that he’d remained silent this long.

There was no one behind her. Blast the man!

Maggie gently pried Cailean’s fingers from around her biceps. “It’s okay, Cailean. He won’t hurt me. Or you.”

“You don’t understand.”

“That he’s a ghost? Believe me, I understand more than I want to.”

“I read them all, Maggie,” she persisted. “Lachlan is right. It’s legendary, but it’s no myth. He has it all clearly documented. Every MacKinnon-Claren union he researched ended in tragedy. The MacKinnon’s have been a curse to the Claren family for a long time.” Her steely-eyed gaze bore into Maggie’s. “Three hundred years to be exact.”

“I know about Duncan’s ill-fated betrothal to Mairi if that’s what you mean. As to the rest, well, it is weird that MacKinnons and Clarens have continued to have such bad luck in their marriages, but you can hardly blame Duncan for—”

“Did you know we’re both descended from MacKinnon-Claren unions? Your mother was a MacKinnon descendant.”

Maggie’s mouth dropped open. “That’s not—”

“He has it all documented. It seems your great-grandmother was married twice. She had Mathilda with her second husband, and your grandmother with her first. He was a MacKinnon.” Cailean waved away Maggie’s confusion. “Trust me, it’s all in there.”

The information jolted Maggie and she struggled to assimilate it all. Her mother was the daughter of a MacKinnon and her father was a Claren. “Lachlan had all this recorded?”

“Yes. There’s more.”

“But wait. If he knew all that, why weren’t we listed in the will by name? He knew about us, right? He knew our parents were dead?”

She nodded. “There is a notation of the children born to our parents’ generation. He had us listed by birth date and gender, but not by name. I don’t know why we weren’t listed as heirs in the will, maybe he just never got around to updating it. He never did any research on us, at least in the journals anyway. He was mostly interested in documenting the unions, so maybe it’s because we never married.”

Maggie rubbed her temples. “And every union failed?”

“Not just failed. Ended in tragedy. The stories that were told about them have been passed down for hundreds of years, hence The Legend MacKinnon.” She paused. “He traced my background too. My mother was also descended from a MacKinnon.”

“And you think your mother and father died as the result of a centuries-old curse?”

Cailean nodded. “Just like yours did. It’s all in there, Maggie. Lachlan started the whole thing when his own wife, a MacKinnon herself, died in a climbing accident.”

“He mentioned it in the journals I read, but I didn’t read the one where he explained it.”

“He was disconsolate after she died. He was going through her things and found a family bible. He noticed the odd number of fatalities and was curious. He did some digging and saw a pattern.”

“Pattern,” Maggie repeated, but she didn’t need it spelled out for her. “Surely there were some happy unions? Some happy endings?”

Cailean held her gaze solemnly as she shook her head. “The only unions that didn’t end in disaster or tragedy were those that married outside the clans. Naturally, some of those ended poorly as well, but that’s normal.”

“So maybe that’s the cause of the others. Just a freaky string of coincidences.”

“For three hundred years? Without a single exception?”

“Did Clarens and MacKinnons marry so often? I mean, just how many relationships are we talking about?”

“That’s part of it too. There are dozens of them. So many it’s weird. They come from all over the place, branched down from many different members of the Claren and MacKinnon clans. But every one that Lachlan tracked, and he was amazingly thorough, could all be traced back to the two original clans. Back to the mid-seventeenth century, right before the clans destroyed each other.”

Maggie’s headache was full-blown by now. “I know that part of the story. Duncan explained it to me. But I don’t understand where the curse began.” She lifted her head. “And I’m not saying I believe there is a curse.”

“You will when you read the journals.” Cailean relented a bit, her expression softening, allowing the fatigue to be even more clearly etched on her face. “I didn’t want to believe it either, but Lachlan’s documentation is very detailed. It’s amazing, Maggie. Genealogists work for a lifetime and don’t gather the immense amount of data he managed to collect.”

Maggie took a deep breath. “Okay. So there’s a curse between the Clarens and the MacKinnons, or at the very least, an incredible run of bad luck. What does this have to do with Duncan?”

“Lachlan has traced the descendants from each ill-fated couple back to members of the clans during Duncan’s time. They were centered on the Isle of Skye, in Scotland. Prior to Duncan’s father being clan chieftain, the two clans had been bitter enemies for dozens of years. Duncan’s father and
the Claren chief sought to end the trouble by uniting the clans through marriage. They made three attempts, but none of them ended in a union. And in the end, the Clarens decimated the MacKinnons to the point that the clan collapsed. From that point on, the curse began.”

“But why do you think it was Duncan, specifically?”

“He was one of three sons of the chief. The oldest, Alexander, disappeared shortly after being betrothed to Edwyna, the eldest daughter of the Claren Laird.”

Maggie’s eyes widened. “He called you Edwyna.”

“If he thought I was her, I can understand now why he was so angry. It was rumored that she had something to do with Alexander’s disappearance. After that, it was up to Duncan to bind the families together. He failed.”

“I know that story,” Maggie said quietly, feeling somewhat battered by the onslaught of information. She didn’t want to hear any more statistics, she didn’t want to know anything more about Duncan’s ill-fated past. “What about the third son?” Maggie heard the defensive, almost desperate note in her voice. “And what of the first son? Why did he disappear? And why are you so sure it was the MacKinnons who started the curse?” Another memory niggled at her brain. “What about this ‘Claren Key’ Duncan mentioned? Could our descendants be responsible for this curse?”

Cailean shook her head wearily. “I don’t know. Maybe. There are rumors, tales, whatever, surrounding the Claren sisters, too. It’s what I have to find out. It’s why I came up here.” She slowly lifted her gaze to Maggie’s, looking tired and haunted. “I’m going to Skye. I have to find out the root of all this and end it once and for all.”

“Why are you doing this to yourself?” She tried a smile. “As long as we don’t marry a MacKinnon, we’ll be okay, right?”

“The visions—I won’t be able to rest, I won’t be able
to sleep …” She let the words trail off and shook her head. “I don’t have a choice.”

“Then why the warning? Why did you come racing up here?”

Her gaze darkened once again. “I had to. You’re falling in love with a MacKinnon.”

“He’s a ghost,” Maggie said simply. “He’s already dead.”

“But you’re not.” The warning was all the more ominous for the soft tone in which she delivered it. “There’s another reason I’m going to Skye.” She took a breath. “There is another cousin listed in the journals. Female. Born a few years before you, which makes her about five years older than me.”

Maggie froze. “What? Who is she?”

“There’s no name, just a birth date. I have no idea who she is or if she’s even still living.”

“Don’t you think the solicitor would have looked for her? If she’s alive, she’s a surviving heir, too.”

“I’d think so, but I don’t know. I want to look into that too.”

“Couldn’t you just call him?”

“I tried. I couldn’t get through. But I need to be there, to talk to him in person.” She walked to the door.

“Wait a minute. You’re leaving now? Right now?”

There was a plea for understanding in her tired eyes. “As soon as I can make the arrangements. I have the journals in the Jeep. You need to read them.”

Maggie wasn’t sure she wanted anything to do with them, she was totally spooked out at the moment. “You don’t need them? To help with research?”

“I made notes. Legal pads full. If I have any other questions, I’ll contact you through Judge Nash.” She stepped back, then suddenly moved forward and caught Maggie in a hug. “Please be careful,” she whispered fiercely in her ear. “You’re the only family I have.” She moved back and her
eyes glistened. “I’m discovering just how important that is to me. Promise me you’ll leave here as soon as you can.” She grabbed Maggie’s hand. “Better yet, come with me.”

Maggie turned her hands over and linked them with her cousin’s, feeling for the first time just how fragile the link was that held them together. “I can’t do that.” Cailean’s expression collapsed and Maggie’s heart tightened painfully. She didn’t want Cailean to leave upset with her. “Not because of Duncan. Or not only because of him,” she added honestly. “I can’t run from the situation I’m in. I have to finish it, one way or the other. I’m afraid for my life, Cailean, I won’t lie to you. But not at the hands of Duncan. He’s agreed to help me.”

At that news Cailean’s expression turned downright distraught.

“You wouldn’t let me talk you out of what you have to do, would you?” Maggie forced a smile. “Does Lachlan’s research say if all Clarens are as stubborn as the two of us?”

Cailean’s eyes watered and she pulled her hands away to wipe them on her sleeve. “No, but we must be a stubborn lot if we keep insisting on banging our heads with MacKinnons. Stubborn or stupid.”

“Let me know where you’re staying when you get to Skye, okay? Send a note via the judge or deputy Branson.”

“You contact me if you need anything,” Cailean demanded. “Anything. And let me know what happens. Promise.”

“I promise. And if you find this mysterious third cousin, you have to send word immediately—whatever you find out.”

She nodded. “Be careful, Maggie.”

“You be careful, too.” She tried to put into words the fear she suddenly felt on her cousin’s behalf, but she couldn’t. “Just be careful.”

“I will.”

Maggie helped Cailean move the trunk to the porch,
then waved good-bye once again, watching as the Jeep flew around the bend. She avoided looking at the trunk as she went back into the cabin. “If she drives like that she’ll be lucky to live to see town, much less Skye.”

“Skye?”

Maggie startled and turned. Duncan was standing in his usual spot in front of the fire. “Thanks for all your help.”

“You seemed to be doing fine wi’ no help from me.”

“So you listened in?”

Duncan didn’t respond, his gaze remained steady on hers. “Yer cousin is chasing a faery tale, Maggie. She willna find naught but dust and perhaps an old pile o’ rocks on Skye.”

“What do you know of MacKinnon or Claren history?”

“I know the clans were formally wiped out soon after my death, the remaining men scattered about to be taken in by other clans. What more does she need?”

“Then you’re saying there is no curse? That you and your brothers just happened to be the first in a long string of strange tragedies between Claren and MacKinnon unions?”

Duncan leaned the poker against the wall and crossed the room toward her. “I thought you didn’t believe in Cailean’s talk of curses either.”

“Lachlan’s curse,” she corrected.

“Aye, auld Lachlan and his stories. Auld man let his love for a MacKinnon twist him up inside until he was seeing ghosts in every corner and faery spells ’neath every bunch of heather.”

“You sound as if you knew him.”

Duncan shrugged. “As ye said, lass, he claimed to own this place. He was here from time to time.”