Chapter 20
Cat strode to the window and back again. "Something I've wondered about for a long time was why Elsea betrayed you and broke the betrothal when the curse started."
Brodie's gut twisted. "My favorite subject. I thank you for bringing it up, sweet sister."
She placed her hands on her hips and glowered at him. She had the stern look of their da when she did that. "Cease and listen, Brodie."
"You have the upper hand now that I can nay stand upright." He had tensed so much his wound ached again.
"Aye, you're forced to listen to good sense... finally."
"Everyone kens why she betrayed me," Brodie said. "'Tis obvious. She did nay want a cursed husband who changed into a beast. She wanted a wealthy, upper crust earl."
"Is that what she said?"
Brodie shrugged. Sharp pain struck him at the movement, and he grimaced. "Damnation, Cat! You are the most vexing—"
"Were those her words?"
Brodie closed his eyes and tried to relax back into the pillows, willing the agony away. What had Elsea said? He tried to recall. The battle inside him had marred his memory. "She gave an excuse. Something about the curse and the witch, as I said."
"She told me the real reason," Cat said in a calmer tone.
"What was it?" he snapped.
"'Twas not because you shift into a beast or that she wanted a wealthier husband.
'Twas because the witch gave Elsea night terrors.
'Twas like Elsea was right in front of you while the witch slit your throat and stabbed you.
Elsea watched you die over and over. Wilona also demonstrated her shapeshifting abilities, proving she could reach you long before Elsea could warn you. Did she tell you this?"
"Nightmares are nay real," Brodie muttered. "Besides, I believe little of what she says."
"If you were to have nightmares of someone you love being brutally murdered night after night, you might feel differently."
"You believe all this?"
"Of course."
"'Tis easy to make up such tales. Why did she nay come to me and tell me?"
Cat frowned, glaring at him as if he were daft. "Are you nay listening? She feared you would be killed!"
Brodie scoffed and rolled his eyes. He'd seen nor heard anything convincing. "Hearsay."
"Are you saying Wilona MacRae is not capable of murder?" Cat demanded.
"She's capable, aye. But I have no fear of her. And Elsea could've told me, damn it all!"
"If that hag can get her hands on a knife, she can slit a slumbering person's throat. She could've easily done that to me at Blacktower when she cut off my hair while I was asleep. She had the opportunity. She just wished to capture Torr more."
A chill passed through Brodie. Aye, he hated the witch. Yearned to defeat her, but how could he, trapped as he was?
"Why would Elsea be helping you and the selkies now if she didn't care about you?" Cat asked, raising her voice.
"I do nay pretend to understand her or any woman," he said, teeth clenched against the pain.
"Stop being stubborn. She betrayed you because she loves you so much. If you wish to blame anyone, blame Wilona MacRae."
Elsea's words of love had lured him, but what if he accepted them, let down his guard and she betrayed him again?
"You've never been betrayed by someone you love, Cat," he said, keeping his voice calm, willing her to understand.
"You cannot grasp the agony of it. Imagine that just before your wedding, Torr went off and bedded another woman.
How would you feel? If he gave a good excuse, if someone had threatened to kill you... could you forgive him instantly?"
Tears welled in Cat's angst-filled eyes. She bit her lip and thought for a long moment. "Not instantly. Nay. But after a year and a half... and if he explained it well. If he could make me understand. And if he still loved me, aye."
"Well, you're a far more forgiving person than I am."
"I understand that she hurt you."
"She did nay just hurt me, Cat," he said in a soft, deadly tone. "She destroyed me. 'Twould have been far more merciful if she'd stabbed me in the heart and been done with it."
Appearing drained, Cat plopped down on the chair and observed him, her lashes still wet.
"I cannot feel what you feel, brother, but my heart aches for you.
I can imagine the anguish, at least halfway.
But you have hardened your heart against her.
You have become so bitter, and the lack of forgiveness is destroying you.
Elsea loves you more than life itself, and you will never find another who loves you as much. "
Oh, hell. Remembering how many times Elsea had said she loved him in the cave. He wished with all his soul it could be true. That she could be true. That things could be the way they used to be. But they could not go back in time.
"Just words," Brodie hissed. "She never loved me." He had convinced himself of that long ago.
Cat blew out a sharp breath. "She had naught to live for, Brodie. Elsea was ready to give up her life for you and the selkies."
The words gored him. "What do you mean?" His voice came out a ragged growl.
"Do you nay realize what a grand risk it was for her to travel over twenty miles alone on a horse, following an earl and his garrison? Breaking out of the castle, then slipping on to a galley. She would've willingly drowned for you. Her life meant little to her after the breakup."
"Did she say that?"
"Aye. She said she had naught to live for, since she knew you would never forgive her, and she could never be with you. She is a broken woman."
He remembered Elsea's words on the shore, inviting him to make good on his threats of strangling her, then throwing her into the sea. Damnation! He did not wish her dead. Instead of killing her, he had kissed her. How daft was he?
Cat sighed. "I give up." She walked out, leaving him alone in the gloaming.
Aye, he had given up, too, long ago. No matter how much he had yearned for Elsea to be his bride and lifelong partner, he'd been forced to give that up. Once trust was demolished, it could never be rebuilt.
***
AFTER DRINKING A DRAM of whisky, which Torr had left on the bedside table, Brodie slept for a while. He awoke when Ruskin entered the dim room, carrying a tray of food.
"How are you feeling, m'laird?" Ruskin set down the tray on the table.
"Splendid. Where is everyone?"
"Preparing for supper in the great hall." Ruskin lit three tapers in the candelabra on the table.
"Ah." So, they had all abandoned him to his hellish, stewing thoughts, even Torr. Cat had no doubt convinced him to stay away so Brodie could think everything through. He didn't want to think. He wanted to forget everything. He craved swimming in the sea something fierce.
"Help me get out of this damned bed, Ruskin," Brodie growled, pushing himself up.
"M'laird? Surely you jest!" He dashed forward in wide-eyed panic.
"Nay, I'm most serious. Careful or your eyes will pop from your head and roll across the floor."
"I must ask Finnian." His manservant scurried for the door.
"Finnian is nay your boss." Brodie swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat on the edge. His stomach almost rebelled, but he remained there, eyes closed, until his head stopped spinning. Saints! His chest pained like it was getting sliced again, over and over.
"Finnian!" Ruskin yelled into the corridor, then turned back to watch.
"You will terrify the old man with your screeching," Brodie muttered. "He's been injured too."
Finnian entered, blue gaze calm but concerned. "What's happening?"
"His lairdship is trying to get up."
"'Tis nay a crime," Brodie growled. Trying to keep his torso straight, he used his legs to push upward into a standing position.
He held on to the tall bedpost with his right hand.
His head spun a bit more, then things settled down.
He blinked and looked around. His legs were a tad weak, but he could walk, surely.
He let go of the post and headed toward the window.
His hand bandaged, Finnian hovered, his arms outstretched, as if he would catch Brodie should he go down.
"Do nay even try it, auld yin. I would flatten you if I should fall on you."
"Nonsense, lad. I'm stronger than I look."
Brodie made it to the window and looked out over the land in the gloaming.
"Och! Would you look at this."
He turned slowly to glance back at Torr, standing just inside the door. "Looking good, brother."
"At least I did nay fall on my face."
"You'll be back to training in no time."
"I'll return later, after you eat and dress," Finnian said. He and Torr left.
Why had Ruskin brought his food instead of Elsea? 'Twas for the best. He didn't truly want to see her or talk to her, did he? Mayhap Cat had said something to her, told her she deserved better than his surly treatment.
"Thank you for your help, Ruskin. I'll be fine now," Brodie said, wanting time alone.
"I would feel better, m'laird, if you were sitting."
Brodie muttered a curse and took a seat at the table near the tray. He was tired anyway.
"Call if you need anything. I'll be right outside." Ruskin gave a brief bow and left.
The tray held the damnable haggis and black pudding again, along with bread, butter, fish, root vegetables, a tart, and a few other things.
He sipped the ale, trying to settle his stomach.
He had no appetite, but he would have to eat if he wished to heal soon and make up for the blood loss.
He must continue to help the selkies until the threat was past.
His gaze darted over the table, catching on The Canterbury Tales book.
It reminded him of Elsea. What was she doing? Eating with Cat, Torr, Ma, and everyone else in the great hall? Would she sit beside his empty chair? Maybe he should've allowed her to read the book to him. It might have been a pleasant distraction.
After eating half the food on the tray, he gave himself a sponge bath at the basin, used the soap to wash his hair, and put on clean clothes. Every time he moved, his chest pained him, but he was starting to feel slightly normal again.
A knock sounded at the door.
"Come," he called.