Chapter 9
Brodie strode away from Elsea's chamber, wanting to kick his own arse. Or rake himself over the coals.
He'd almost asked her to please call him Brodie instead of m'laird. Hell. Had he lost all rational sense?
Besides that, he'd considered asking her if she remembered cutting the selkie females loose and freeing them on the birlinn.
If she didn't remember, he would need to explain what selkies were.
He needed to avoid that conversation right now.
Recalling that her father had died was enough for her to worry over now.
She had near rent his heart in two when she'd wept over him.
And he understood it, for he'd lost his beloved father, too.
But he could not develop sympathy for her, damn it.
What concerned him in equal measure to the abducted selkies was Wilona MacRae's sudden appearance. She must have been spying on him if she knew Elsea was here.
Brodie proceeded to Finnian's workroom, knocked and waited for him to open the door.
"Come in." The physician motioned him toward the settles near the hearth, then closed the door.
"Lady Elsea had a nightmare a little while ago about Wilona MacRae. Said her life would be forfeit if she did nay leave here."
The old man's bushy white brows lowered. "Indeed? Is the lass talking?"
"Aye, her voice returned after the nightmare."
"'Tis an important detail," Finnian said dryly. "The witch fears you will fall in love with the lass again and eradicate the curse."
"Aye, but 'twill never happen!"
Finnian raised a brow, his blue gaze fierce behind his spectacles. "'Tis up to you."
Brodie paced to the window and glanced out at the moor grass blowing sideways in the fearsome wind. "When she woke up from the nightmare, her window was open. The witch could've been in the chamber."
"She went into your sister's chamber at Blacktower. 'Tis a miracle she did nay kill Lady Cat that night."
Brodie remembered Torr telling him the torturous details of the situation. Darkness loomed when he imagined Elsea in the same peril. "Is there a way to shield the lass from the witch's evil?"
"Aye, a rowan cross blessed by a priest might help.
I brought two with me that Torr and Cat used for protection.
" Finnian retrieved them from his trunk and handed them to Brodie.
They appeared to be sturdy twigs from rowan trees, formed into a cross and wrapped with crimson wool yarn.
"One for you and one for her. Keep it on you at all times. "
Knowing full well not everything the physician devised was effective, Brodie scowled. "Do these truly work?"
"Well, Torr and Cat still live."
True, but was that because of the rowan crosses or because they fell in love and shattered the curse? "I can keep one in my sporran as a human, but nay as a selkie."
"Do the best you can."
"I'd prefer that you give the cross to the lass and explain how it works. I'm certain she won't believe me."
"Alright."
"I need to know why she was on the birlinn with the kidnappers. Was she a hostage? Can you gaze into the keek stane and see the details?"
"Nay. I cannot see the past in it, only the present and, at rare times, the future."
"What about the witch?"
Finnian shook his head, his snowy beard swaying. "I've tried several times to spy on her, but she maintains a cloaking spell. I can see naught about her."
"'Tis vexing," Brodie growled. "Is the lass telling the truth about her memory?"
"Aye, from what I have seen thus far, she is."
"Why did her voice return so fast?" Brodie went from believing her one moment to doubting the next.
"I saw naught about that in the keek stane." Finnian considered for a long moment. "The witch might have placed a spell on her, rendering her mute."
"And her missing memory? Is that a spell?"
"Could be. Or the head injury." Finnian threw up his hands.
"She had that sticky herbal concoction on her head," Brodie reminded him.
"Indeed."
"In the cave, she indicated she remembered me at first. Then later, she did not."
"Och. Well then, it could be a spell. Was the witch in the cave?"
"Nay, 'twas... Margaret." A sinking feeling slammed into his gut.
Finnian stuck a finger in the air. "Torr and Gavin believe Margaret is Wilona, you ken."
"She looks nothing like Wilona!"
Finnian drew back and eyed him as if he were mad. "Neither an owl nor a bat looks like Wilona either."
Brodie muttered a curse. She couldn't be, could she? "On our way here, a giant sea eagle approached." He paused, reliving the memory.
"And?" Finnian waited.
"It attacked me on the birlinn, scratched my back and tried to drag me off. I almost lopped its head off."
"Aha!"
"Was it her?"
"I would wager 'twas. She has shifted into many animals, including a loch monster, a bear, a wolf, any bird you can think of, and a midge."
Brodie nodded, for Gavin and Torr had told him of their experiences.
"Has the witch been hiding in plain sight?" Finnian's wise blue eyes grew piercing. "Have a think on it, lad."
It sickened Brodie to imagine he might have bedded the witch for a month or longer. Couldn't be! He refused to believe it until he had proof.
"Can you use the keek stane to see who is kidnapping the selkies?" Brodie asked.
"Nay. I must visualize the person I wish to spy on." Finnian crouched in front of the hearth and dipped steaming water from the small three-legged cauldron into a wooden cup.
"'Tis nay helpful." Brodie muttered a frustrated curse and paced.
Finnian rose and perched on the settle. "'Haps I will have a dream or a vision this night where all will be revealed."
"'Twould be my fondest wish," Brodie said in a dry tone.
"You doubt me, Chief?"
Brodie shrugged. He knew naught for a certainty.
"Torr doubted too, but in the end, he witnessed the truth of it." The old man grinned.
The bitter herbal scent from the steeping tisane reached him. "She remembered one thing today—her father's death."
"I hope she took it well."
"She was devastated, but she will be all right." Brodie hated that she had to experience the fresh grief all over again. 'Haps he should've revealed the truth in a gentler way.
"'Tis an encouraging sign that she remembered something, at least."
"I'm hoping you can find a way to help her recover all her memories."
Finnian nodded. "I'm doing my best. Earlier, I sent a maid with a tisane for head pain and to help her sleep.
" He motioned toward the wooden cup sitting on the hearth.
"Now, I'm steeping a different tisane to reduce the swelling of her injury.
I had to consult my book and get some ingredients from the local herbalist. I did not bring everything from Blacktower, you ken. 'Twould require a dozen packhorses."
"Are you certain 'tis safe?" Brodie asked.
Finnian's bushy white brows shot up. "Aye, the herbs are safe. I smelled and tasted all of them, verifying their identities. Do you mistrust me?"
"Nay." But Brodie recalled Torr mentioning how some of Finnian's potions had made him violently ill.
Finnian pointed at him. "You see, lad, you do care about her." He grinned within his flowing white beard.
"Just because I wish her to survive your brew does nay mean I crave marrying her!"
Finnian cackled.
Brodie ground his teeth.
"Would you like to give her the new elixir?" Finnian picked up a cup and stirred with a wooden spoon.
"Nay. It smells wretched, and if she dies from it, 'twould be my fault."
"Alright. Have her come here. I'll give it to her after I tell her what's in it." Finnian grinned like an imp. "I'll even put some honey in it to sweeten her up for you."
***
THOUGH ELSEA'S STOMACH was still a bit queasy, she forced herself to eat some soup, bread, and cheese at the small table near the hearth.
A knock sounded at the door.
She turned. "Come in."
A well-dressed, dark-haired woman opened the door and entered. She appeared to be in her forties, but still youthful and beautiful. "Good eve, my dear. You may not remember me. I'm Brodie's mother." The woman had an English accent, which was surprising.
"Oh." Elsea rose and curtsied. "Nice to meet you. I apologize for not remembering you, m'lady. Have we met?" Elsea motioned toward a chair, and they both sat.
"Aye, of course, and please call me Agatha. You and your brothers visited with us a couple of years ago. You stayed for a few days."
Elsea gasped. "We did? What was the purpose of the visit?" She could not recall their clans being friends or having an alliance.
Agatha smiled. "Did Brodie not tell you?"
Elsea shook her head and frowned. "Nay. Are Will and Brodie friends? I have nay recollection of Will ever mentioning him. But Brodie said he was at my father's funeral."
"Indeed, he gets on well with your brothers. Do you remember Torr?"
"Of course. He's my second cousin."
"Well, he and Cat wed a month ago."
"Oh! How wonderful." Had Elsea known that previously? Her mind was a blank.
"And Brodie and Torr are the best of friends."
"I feel like I should remember these things, but I cannot.
" Elsea thought back, trying to recall the last time she'd seen Torr.
It had been a long time. The only friend of his that she'd met was Gavin MacTavish, at least prior to her eighteenth birthday.
His clan's castle was a long ride from Kincreag, so they didn't visit often.
"Did Torr come with us when my brothers and I visited here? "
"No, my dear, but Torr introduced you to Brodie."
"Oh, I see. Where?"
"At Kincreag."
Elsea's mouth dropped open, then she snapped it closed. Brodie had said it was over two years ago that they had met. If her memories ever returned, she was going to feel completely daft.
"As for the visit, 'twas just you and three of your brothers. That Kieran is a scamp." Agatha chuckled.
"He is." Elsea found it amazing that Brodie's mother knew her youngest brother so well, and annoying that she could remember none of it. "Would you tell me more about... the visit?"
"I would be glad to."
Elsea gauged Agatha's somewhat calculating smile. What was the woman about?
A loud knock rattled the door, startling them both.