Chapter 3 #2
He chuckled and drew back. "You do play the virginal lass well. We shall get on famously."
She covered her smarting lip with her fingers, and he laughed again.
"I'll see you in a fortnight. Dream about me." He leaned toward her while she tried to get away. He yanked her close and forced her to accept a kiss on the cheek, then strode away.
She would dream about stabbing the blackguard.
She pulled her hand away from her injured lip, and blood smeared her fingers.
Brute!
Though 'twas a minor injury, he had enjoyed hurting her. She craved taking him down to the lowest level possible.
Her muscles tense, Elsea waited until he mounted and rode out the portcullis with his garrison.
"Saddle my horse, please, Nate," she said to the stable lad. "I wish to take a ride."
While he was busy, she went into the stall and strapped on her basket hilt sword. It was lighter than a man's sword but just as long. Her da had it specially made for her. She had been practicing with it and other swords for years, both on horseback and off. Her long black cloak hid the weapon.
Within minutes, Freya was saddled and ready to go.
"I thank you, Nate."
When the lad inclined his head and walked away, she checked the girth strap. She then dragged out her valise and secured it behind the saddle with a leather strap. The back of her cloak would hide it while she rode through the portcullis.
She was glad her brothers had vacated the bailey by the time she led her horse out, for she didn't want them to question her about the valise or why she was taking a ride so early this day. She climbed the steps of the loupin'-on stane and seated herself in the saddle.
Once outside the portcullis, she followed the fresh tracks on the well-worn wagon road.
She hung back, not wanting Talnaroch and his men to see her following.
After a mile or two, this road intersected with a wider droving road.
Most of the tracks headed northwest, and she followed.
A few tracks had torn-up the grass beside the road, exposing the black soil underneath.
As the morning sunlight brightened, snow shimmered white and cold on the distant mountain peaks. The frostbitten brown heather flowers by the trail told her winter would arrive soon.
She was still on MacAuley clan lands and knew where the borders were. Should her brother's patrolling guards see her, they would take notice but would leave her to ride in peace, as they had done for years.
Could she complete her objective? Though her brothers had trained her well in fighting, and she was stronger than most ladies, she was not stronger than a man. When it came to hand-to-hand combat, could she best a warrior... or an earl?
She would have to outsmart them.
***
LYING ON THE PALLET in the cave on Ròncreag Isle, Lady Wilona MacRae grinned as Brodie dug his sealskin out of his sporran, then strode naked from the cave and out toward the shore.
Though surly most of the time, he was a handsome, brawny young man, and she enjoyed him immensely.
She wanted to laugh every time she thought of how easily she had tricked him into thinking she was a stunning, voluptuous woman in her twenties.
He rarely discussed anything with her. They used each other, and that was the extent of it.
Aye, she had cursed him a year and a half ago, but she well knew he wasn't the one who had murdered her son, Silas.
Gavin MacTavish had performed the heinous deed, and she still craved revenge against him.
Since Gavin had broken his curse, the only way to get near him now was through Brodie.
The two were foster brothers and fast friends.
She would bide her time until Gavin showed up here on the west coast.
Wrapping the wool blanket around herself, Wilona rose and watched Brodie from the cave's exit. The leaden morning mist had not yet evaporated, and the mainland was barely visible in the distance.
After putting on his sealskin and shifting into seal form, Brodie disappeared beneath the waves. Though he hadn't told her, she knew exactly where he was headed, for she'd followed him several times over the past month.
He was going to train the male selkies in swordplay and battle skills. She snorted. 'Twas useless against the powerful, well-heeled earl who was abducting the female selkies, the same earl who had stolen Brodie's beloved lady from him, thanks to her. Wilona snickered.
Talnaroch had a sizable force of men, and he was no doubt earning a king's ransom when he sold these unusual females to his aristocratic friends. 'Twas time for the earl to share some of that wealth with her. She had been spying on him and knew his next raid would happen soon.
Excitement wound through her. Did Brodie or the selkies ken about the impending raid? She must find out.
She drew back into the cave and murmured the ancient Gaelic words of the spell the old crone had given her.
Wilona's body transformed into that of a storm petrel.
She had shifted so many times, into so many different animals, over the past year and a half, 'twas no longer painful.
All she had to do was relax into the shift and let the magic take her over.
Relishing her new small bird form, the best one for these islands, she flew from the cave, easily maneuvering in the battering wind over the ocean.
Her gaze scanning the waves, she spotted the large seal gliding through the water at top speed.
'Twas obvious Brodie enjoyed being a selkie.
He should thank her for the curse. She emitted an abrasive chattering call.
Soon, they approached a bigger island, Rònmòrach Isle, where the tribe of selkies lived.
Wilona landed on a black boulder protruding from the white sand, folded her wings, and waited for Brodie.
Once he galumphed through the surf and onto the sand, he removed the sealskin and shifted back into his glorious, naked human form.
His muscles flexing, he rushed toward the cliffs in the distance.
She lifted off and flew, following a few hundred feet behind him. He would have no inkling 'twas her.
He called out, announcing his arrival, then entered the cave.
She flew to the cave's entrance and lurked just outside, eavesdropping and trying to find out their strategy. They probably didn't even have one beyond brute force fighting.
Brodie conversed with other men in an ancient form of Gaelic, their deep voices rumbling.
She peered inside, and Brodie was belting a plaid at his waist. The rest of the males wore plaids, too, and their muscular chests remained bare.
Although Wilona found these bearded selkie males handsome with their impressive physiques, pale azure eyes, and long black hair pulled back in intricate warrior braids, that did not mean she held any sympathy for them.
In the wind, she only understood part of their conversation. Still in bird form, she slipped into the cave to hear better. They wouldn't notice her, for thousands of birds lived on this island. She would find out their plans and help Talnaroch gain the upper hand in his next raid.
***
brODIE SAT WITH DOZENS of selkie men around the cave's firepit. The women were with the children in a different cavern. Over the past year and a half, these men had become his close friends.
At first, when Lady Wilona MacRae had cursed Brodie, the lure of the sea had overwhelmed him.
Then, he'd found a mysterious sealskin in his sporran.
How had it come to be there? He didn't know, but he could not resist putting it on.
He'd heard selkie legends from the time he was a bairn.
To realize not only that the legends were true, but that he was one of the mythical creatures had been astounding.
During the first shifting, excruciating pain had exploded through him.
Once that had drifted away, and he'd plunged into the water, an astonishing energy propelled him.
He craved gliding through the refreshing ocean above all else.
Since swimming was effortless, he traveled miles without tiring. The freedom was immeasurable.
After the MacCain clan had learned of his curse and his shapeshifting abilities, they feared him.
At supper, though he was in human form, they kept their distance and stared at him as if he were a sorcerer or demon who might strike them down at any time.
'Twas when Elsea had betrayed him, breaking their betrothal and his heart.
Farspag had become a prison where everyone shunned him, even the people he loved most.
He could not even visit Gavin and Torr, for he could not tolerate leaving the shore for any length of time. His craving of the sea was a madness.
Everyone misunderstood him and abandoned him until he'd found this tribe of selkies while swimming as a seal a few days after his first shift.
He'd discovered by accident that he could communicate with them telepathically.
Now, they were another clan he belonged to, and he cared about them like family.
Brodie and the MacCains had brought scores of swords, targes, and dirks to the island over a month ago. They'd bound the sharp blades in leather to prevent injuries during training.
"At night, have a care when you withdraw the blades from the leather wraps used in training. Most of them are sharp." Brodie pulled a foot-long Highland dirk from the leather and examined the nicked blade. "If the raiders show up, you'll be ready to defend your tribe."
"We hope we'll be able to. If our daughters and granddaughters keep disappearing, our kind will perish." Scarth, the selkie chief, was a mature male with silver-streaked black hair and a long, braided beard, but he was still hearty and strong. "Already, we have few children."
"The bastards abducted my wife during the last raid," Daavar, a young male with long dark warrior braids, said, his voice raw with anguish. "We have a wee daughter who needs her. And I need her."