Cathy Maxwell - [Chattan Curse 03] by The Devils Heart Page A

horrifying. The coach went off the road and began rolling down the mountain. Smith—she was my maid—and I were inside . . . and I could feel my bones break. I experienced the pain. I lost consciousness and when I woke, I saw Smith not far from me. I could tell she was dead. I knew I would be dead soon as well. I could feel myself failing.”
    Heath stood, frowning. “When we found the accident, you were not located close to the maid where you could have a line of sight of her. In fact, it would be impossible for you to have seen the maid from where you were.”
    “I was within feet of her,” Lady Margaret insisted. “I was staring into her face.”
    “You must have moved because I discovered you away from the wreckage. You were on a bed of pine needles. There was copse of pines and you appeared as if you were sleeping there, your hands folded at your waist.”
    “I was on my back?” She shook her head. “That could not be. I remember that I was on my stomach. And I could not move. I saw Fenella’s book. That’s how I knew it was in the wreckage. It had been in the coach with me and was within my view when I first regained consciousness. I tried to reach for it, but my arms wouldn’t move. They were broken.”
    “They are not broken now—”
    “I know ,” she said, rising to her feet and dropping the book into her chair. “I don’t understand it. I don’t understand any of this .”
    Heath leaned back against the desk. “I don’t believe in myths and legends. There is always a rational, logical explanation.”
    Perhaps Lady Margaret was part of some ruse . . . and yet he could not imagine any reason that the Chattans would orchestrate the deaths of their own people for a pretense.
    “You are thinking I am mad,” she said.
    “I don’t know,” he conceded. “Perhaps you are merely confused.”
    “I can understand how you might not believe me.” She straightened her shoulders and then said, “So, in the interest of you concluding that I am truly and completely deranged, let me finish my story. After I couldn’t reach for Fenella’s book and discovered I could not move in any way, I knew I was going to die. I expected it. A person knows when death is upon them.”
    Heath had heard that before.
    “That’s when Owl came to me,” she said. “The cat curled up next to me. I don’t know how she found me, but in that moment I was so thankful to not be alone.”
    “You said you left the cat on the road behind you.”
    “Yes, miles behind us, but there she was.” Lady Margaret drew in a deep breath and crossed her arms. “I try to make sense of it all. I can only conclude that Fenella was trying to stop me from reaching here, and Owl saved my life. She revived me . . . from death.”
    Heath didn’t know what to think. “Why was coming here so important?”
    “This is where it all began. Don’t you understand—?” She stopped, pushing a stray strand of her hair behind her ear. “Of course, you don’t. I’m not explaining myself well. You see, I am the first female born to our line since the days before Charles Chattan, the man who betrayed Rose Macnachtan. Harry believes that if anyone has the chance of breaking the curse, I do. And Owl,” she said thoughtfully, as if just beginning to understand, “protected me. Owl wasn’t evil like I feared. That is why I left her behind on the road. I feared her. And yet, now, I know she needed to be with me. She healed me when I was about to die.”
    Heath made up his mind about her—she was as mad as a hatter. She was telling him a story that only an idiot would believe. And yet his attraction to her was strong.
    She was the standard by which he’d compared all women. He hadn’t been so bold as to think that a woman of her class, of her bearing and wealth, would have any interest in a Highland ruffian like him, but he didn’t want his image of her tarnished, either.
    He also didn’t want to encourage her wild-eyed beliefs by telling her