Chapter 8 #3
"Ginger hair, skinny and raw-boned, maybe forty or forty-five summers in age."
"Saints," he hissed, standing straight again, his gaze fierce. He appeared incensed enough to charge into battle.
Her heartbeat quickened. "What?"
"Wilona MacRae," he growled through clenched teeth.
"Who is she?"
He hesitated. "'Tis best you do nay ken."
"I need to. She threatened to kill me."
"When?" he demanded.
"In my nightmare. It may sound mad, but 'twas so real. She said if I did nay go home, my life would be forfeit, and that I must stay away from you."
"Indeed?"
Elsea nodded.
"That evil bitch," he snarled, then caught himself. "Pray pardon. I should guard my tongue around ladies."
'Twas no worse than she'd heard from her brothers for years. "She did seem evil. Do you think 'twas real or a dream?"
"Lady Wilona MacRae is real, and she's a witch. 'Twould nay surprise me if she can visit people in nightmares."
"A witch? Good heavens." 'Haps she was in more danger than she'd realized. "Why did she wish me to stay away from you?"
He paused, releasing a long breath. "'Tis a long story. When your memory returns, you'll ken."
Why did he not want to tell her? "My memory might never return."
"I think it will."
An image flashed through Elsea's mind, stunning her. Da lay in bed with his eyes closed. His pale face appeared battered and bloody. She gasped and covered her mouth.
"What's wrong?" Brodie's concerned gaze sharpened.
"I remember... when Da passed." Cold darkness and agony cut through her. "He had so many injuries. Did someone do this to him?"
Brodie shook his head. "William said he was on his horse, traversing a mountain pass, when the path gave way."
She hated that her mind was blank. "I cannot recall that part... just Ma in tears, standing across from me. Where is my mother? Is she all right?"
"As far as I know."
"When did you see her last?"
"A few months after your father's funeral."
Bewildered, Elsea shook her head. "How do we know each other?"
Brodie hesitated, then looked away. "'Tis best that we nay discuss this now."
"Why? I need to know the truth."
When he shook his head, pain flashed through his eyes. "You must remember in your own time, at your own pace."
Something about his dark eyes was so captivating, she could stare into them forever.
"'Twould be too much for you now," he continued. "You just remembered about your da. That's enough for today."
Could it be something horrible? Why did he not wish to reveal it?
"Finnian thinks you will regain your memory. 'Twould be best if you could stay here until you recall why you were on the birlinn last night."
"I want to know that, too."
"You said that someone kicked you down, and you hit your head. Do you recall who it was or anything else?"
"Nay, 'twas dark, and I have no memory of how or where I boarded the birlinn. Did I ride my horse from Kincreag?"
"I have nay inkling. Let me know if you remember anything else or if you have more nightmares about the witch."
A chill passed over Elsea. "Should I heed her warning? Could she break in here and kill me?"
"With her magical abilities, Wilona MacRae can shapeshift into various animals, birds, and insects."
Elsea's mouth dropped open. "Surely you jest. I thought they were legends."
"Nay, they're real," he said with confidence. "What do you think of shapeshifters?"
Elsea had never considered the subject. "They must be evil."
"Or cursed."
She nodded, then thought of something. "When I awoke from the nightmare, my window was open."
"Hell, she could've been in the room with you."
"Aye."
"I will see if Finnian has any ideas about how to safeguard you from the witch."
"What do you mean?" Elsea asked.
"He's nay just a physician. He also has the sight."
Elsea had no idea how someone with the sight could protect her from a witch, but none of this made sense.
"Have you eaten?" Brodie asked.
She shook her head. "I was too queasy."
"How do you feel now?"
"Not as bad. Since I had that flash of memory, I recall that 'twas sometime back that my da passed. I still miss him sorely, but I'll be all right, I think. I just wish I could see Ma."
"After we figure this out, I'll have you escorted back home."
She nodded. "I appreciate that."
Brodie studied her for a long moment, and she expected him to ask more questions.
Instead, he said, "I'll take you back to your chamber now.
" He offered his elbow, and she took it.
"The corridor is dim." He stated the obvious as they walked along.
"I would hate for you to trip and sustain another head injury. "
"Indeed."
When they reached her chamber, he opened the door.
"I thank you, m'laird."
"Please... eh... try to eat some," he said. "You must keep up your strength."
"Very well." She curtsied, closed the door, then paced to the window to stare out into the gale storm. She shivered when she thought of what Brodie had told her about the witch.
Elsea checked the latch to make sure it was secure, but the fierce wind whistled through the narrow crack between the two panes. Could the witch transform into an insect and squeeze through?