Helena’s heart broke into a thousand pieces as she watched Logan’s face. His features flickered with shock, then desolation before returning to stone. He let her hand go and it fell from his chest.

“How can that be?” he asked, his voice low and soft.

“It was my father’s wish,” Helena said. “After Adam died, my father grieved fiercely. But with Geoffrey’s arrival, he thought he’d found a second son. Geoffrey made it known to my father that he wished to marry me.”

“And ye agreed?”

Though the words were spoken evenly, Helena did not miss the tight edge to them.

“Nay,” she replied. “Not right away. Geoffrey spent months trying to win me over, but the servants had already begun to whisper about his temper. When they didn’t lay the fire properly in his chamber’s hearth, or they spilled a droplet of wine on the table while serving him, he would fly into a rage—but only in private. I never saw it myself until…”

She swallowed. Though it was painful to speak of, she was getting ahead of herself. Logan deserved the whole story.

“I rejected him for months. My father promised not to force me into a union against my will, but he asked that I give Geoffrey more time to prove himself and see if my feelings toward him might change. But then my father fell ill.”

She’d had no warning, no vision to alert her to the sudden fever that had laid him low. Mayhap that meant it had been God’s will to take him, and that it had not been her place to intervene. The thought was a small comfort against the terrible pain of the loss.

“When he grew worse, he made me promise to marry Geoffrey. I think he feared that a young, unmarried woman left in charge of a massive Borderlands stronghold would be vulnerable to attack. He never believed in the ill words whispered about Geoffrey’s temper, his controlling nature, and his possessive hunger for power. My father thought he was protecting me.”

“So ye agreed to wed de Neville then.”

“Aye,” she said through a knotted throat. “My father grew worse, the fever more consuming. In a matter of days he was raving and seeing things that weren’t there. That was when he told Geoffrey of my visions.”

“And after yer father passed, Geoffrey confronted ye and beat ye for it.”

She nodded, swallowing. “He told me that we would be wed the next day, despite the fact that my father hadn’t even been laid in the ground to rest yet. He was so eager to marry—nearly mad with the idea of doing it quickly.”

When he’d called her to his chamber and informed her that they would be wed the next day, she’d almost suspected that he’d succumbed to the same fever-madness as her father. But he was not crazy—nay, he’d been coldly calculating.

“I realize now that he wanted to legally secure the castle for himself through the marriage, and then be rid of me as soon as possible with the witchcraft accusation. That way, none could question his legitimacy as the castle’s lord, and the taint of my curse would be burned away along with me. When I protested, he hit me. I sensed then that something was terribly wrong, but when I had the vision later that night, I knew he wouldn’t be satisfied with merely beating me into submission. He wanted me dead. I had to flee.”

“And now ye wish to return to Craigmoor after all this time—after all that has passed between us.” Logan no longer worked to guard the emotions roiling behind his stony features. All his disbelief and hurt burned in his slate eyes. “So that ye can—what? Be with Geoffrey again?”

“Nay!” Helena cried. She clutched the blanket to her chest, suddenly embarrassed of her nakedness. What must he think of her? She was engaged to another, and yet she’d welcomed his touch, given him her innocence, and now told him that she was leaving.

Self-loathing swamped her, but she reached out and clutched Logan’s arm. She needed to make him understand.

“When I fled to the Highlands, I only had a sliver of hope that I could escape the fate I’d seen. But when you found me, and nursed me back to health, and let me into your home, your family, your heart, I…I began to believe that I could write my own fate, build a new future for myself. I want this life with you, Logan.”

She pulled in a slow, painful breath. “But Craigmoor and its people are in trouble. I can’t run away from this. I can’t hide here in the Highlands when I could help them.”

“How?” he demanded. “How does it help them to put yerself in harm’s way—and back in that bastard de Neville’s clutches?”

“The castle is still mine,” she replied.

He blinked in confusion, so she went on.

“When I fled, I knew I was ceding the castle to him. It was my only chance at survival—I hoped that if he had Craigmoor for himself, he wouldn’t care whether I was actually dead or merely in the wind. But without the marriage to make it official, the castle is still mine by order of King Edward of England. He gave the castle to the care of the Quincey family—and I am the only one left.”

Sorrow squeezed her ribs as she spoke, but she forced herself to continue. “By returning to Craigmoor, I would prove that I am still alive—and that I am the rightful keeper of the castle, not Geoffrey.”

He stared at her for a long moment. “Ye mean to take it from him then?”

“Aye.”

“Ye would be setting yerself against Robert the Bruce and his army if ye did that,” Logan said.

“Nay, for once I find a way to oust Geoffrey from power, I will surrender the castle to the Scottish,” she replied. “I could end this siege before it truly begins.”

Logan continued to look at her flatly, so she went on, fumbling for the words to convince him of this mad plan.

“As I said, Geoffrey will never surrender—not until every last person in the castle is dead and the Scots remove Geoffrey’s bones. But I have no qualms about releasing the castle to the Scots. Edward II abandoned us long ago. Besides, the people, the castle, the very land is Scottish. Though the Quincey family was honored with its care, Craigmoor was never truly King Edward’s to give. It has always been Scotland’s.”

“Ye would risk yer life to help them,” he said, his voice betraying none of his emotions.

“Aye,” she breathed. “I…I have felt helpless for so long—helpless against the power of the visions, helpless to stand against Geoffrey, to free the people of Craigmoor from his control. But I can’t live like that. I must take charge of my own fate.”

“And what of yer life here?” he rasped, his eyes flickering with hurt. “What of Mairin? She needs ye still. And…and what of me? Was this some sort of autumn fling for ye? Ye dally in the Highlands for a bit while ye get yer courage up and then return to yer old life?”

“Nay,” Helena blurted, tears stinging her eyes.

She reached for him, but he pushed himself off the cot. The dim light cast his body in shadows, making every line and angle appear harder.

“I never planned this,” Helena whispered. “I never planned to meet you, or to fall in love. Nor did I ever think to return to Craigmoor, but you helped me see that my visions don’t have to be a curse—I can alter the future they show me, use them to help people.”

He turned his back to her as he pulled on his breeches. “I ken ye didnae plan this,” he said softly. “Forgive me. I spoke out of hurt. Ye are a big-hearted woman, Helena. And ye are brave to want to help yer people, even knowing the danger.”

“You could…you could come with me,” she said.

“Nay.” The word was flat—final. “I promised Mairin I would never abandon her again, and she cannae return south. The Highlands is the only place she’s ever felt safe.”

Helena’s heart twisted painfully. He was right. Mairin had made so much progress, but to disrupt her newly forming habits now might undo all of it. Logan’s priority had to be his sister. And Helena’s had to be the hundreds of innocent lives threatened by Geoffrey.

She watched the muscles of his back shift as he donned his tunic.

“Where are you going?”

“I need to think,” he said without turning to her. “Rest. We can discuss this more in the morning.”

Helena remained silent as he tugged on his boots and swung his cloak around his shoulders. He stepped through the door and closed it behind him, but still he did not look at her.

With a sob, she buried her face in her hands and let the tears come. She wept for the perfection of what she’d shared with Logan, and for its end, for surely that was what had just happened.

Aye, he’d said they could talk more in the morning, but they both knew that naught would change by then. And if Finn Sutherland and another one of the Bodyguard Corps members were traveling to Craigmoor at dawn, Helena would be going with them.

She prayed for a vision to come then, to show her what lay ahead, but even after she cried herself to sleep, none did.