Chapter 23
Brodie's warm, roughened fingertips stroking Elsea's neck and shoulder shot tingles shivering through her body, stealing her thoughts. The captivating whiff of him—a blend of Scots pine, whisky, herbal soap, and his own unique male scent—incited her heart to beat even more erratically.
The ring.
When had he seen it on the cord around her neck? How had he seen it? She always kept it hidden beneath her clothing.
She narrowed her eyes. "Which ring?"
His lips quirked, inviting and bittersweet.
"I think you ken. You had it on a necklace.
" He dropped his hand. "Why were you wearing it, wee warrior?
" His voice was curious, almost teasing.
His gaze drew her in and held her captive, as it always had, his brown eyes so dark they were almost black.
A challenge gleamed there, but also... interest. He was just inebriated enough to lower some of his barriers.
"How do you know about it?"
"I saw it," he murmured, glancing at her shoulder and neck.
"When?"
"While you were asleep the other night."
She lowered her chin. The memory of how happy she'd been when he gave her the ring pricked her eyes with tears. "Why do you care? Do you want it back?"
"Nay." He nudged her chin up and observed her with a pained expression. "I figured you'd sold it to a pawnbroker ages ago."
She shook her head, well aware she should insist he take it back, but she couldn't. 'Twas the last thing of his she could hold on to. "I took it off so no one would see it when I wore this gown."
"Why wear it?" His tone darkened. "You were the one who demolished everything between us."
His words lashing at her, she drew back, and his hands dropped away, leaving her chilled.
"You well ken why, damn it," she grated out. "Must you keep forcing me to say it when you do not feel the same?"
The way he looked at her... his obsidian eyes glinting with soul-deep torment. Agony.
"I am sorry for what I did," she whispered, her eyes stinging. "Deeply sorry." She bit her lip so hard she feared she would draw blood.
He pressed his eyes closed and hung his head. "Why did you not simply tell me about her threats?" he rasped.
"She said she would kill you if I told you."
He blew out a breath, then stared at the ceiling. "I would've preferred death to what you did."
She shook her head, her throat so tight she couldn't speak for a moment.
"Besides, she hasn't killed me yet," he muttered.
Elsea swallowed hard and inhaled. "Because I stayed away from you."
He shrugged. "'Twas only a nightmare. When you woke up, you should've known."
Elsea's chest burned. "You've never had a nightmare like this," she said forcefully between clenched teeth.
"She took me to that battlefield where her son was killed.
She stopped time, forced me to keep my eyes open, and she...
cut your throat. Your blood—" Elsea's throat closed off as she traveled back there in her mind, and she near crumpled to the floor.
"Your blood gushed everywhere. She forced me to witness it over and over.
She stabbed you. 'Twas more real than life. "
Brodie's dark gaze searched hers, and he appeared to be listening. Was his expression doubting or compassionate? Tears blurred her vision so much she couldn't tell.
She swallowed hard, wiping the moisture away with shaking fingers. "She changed into a bat and flew out the window. She could've reached you far faster than I could. It would've taken me days to come here or go to Caithmore. I had no idea where you were."
"I'll kill her for torturing you like that," he growled.
Elsea held her breath, afraid to hope. Did he believe her? At last?
"And for forcing you to torture me," he continued. "For you could nay have hurt me worse if you'd run me through with a sword."
She didn't know what else to say. She didn't know how to make it right. "I broke my own heart, too. Hurt me if you think 'twould make you feel better. Have your revenge."
"Nay, lass," he said softly. "I would never wish to inflict that kind of pain on you. 'Twould kill me to do so."
She straightened her shoulders. "Well, I would do anything to protect you. I value your life over my own."
"Nay, do not say that," he gritted.
"'Tis true," she said firmly. "Can you forgive me, at least, so you can have peace? You don't have to like me. You can simply feel indifferent. I'll go home, and you never have to see me again."
"Humph," he grunted, still glaring at her.
Did he want to see her again? Nay, of course not. He needed to let go of the past and the rage so he could heal. She wished his curse would vanish, too, but that would be expecting too much.
Dropping into the chair by the table, he remained silent for a long moment, frowning and staring into the fire.
He needed more time, didn’t he? Time to think it over.
"I know not what else to say." She could ask his forgiveness a hundred times, but that would only annoy him.
"You've said enough." He grabbed the bottle of whisky and poured some into the small glass.
A dark, leaden weight settled in her chest, and she moved toward the door. "Very well, then."
"Wait," he growled.
She glanced back at him.
He took a sip of the whisky, swallowed, then glared at her. "I forgive you, damn it," he grated.
Stunned by his words, she frowned. "Something tells me you're lying."
"I'm trying," he muttered and downed the rest of the dram. He swallowed and set down the glass with a thunk. "I'm trying to learn how to forgive. I cannot climb a mountain as high as Ben Nevis all in one night, especially with this injury and blood loss."
He'd drunk too much. Regardless, she understood his meaning. She could not blame him. She was just thankful he'd taken the first step by saying he forgave her, even if he didn't mean it.
Nodding, she left the room.
***
brODIE GLARED AT THE door when it clicked shut behind Elsea. Had he just told her he forgave her? Damnation! Was it true? Had he? He'd thought his rage was a permanent tattoo on his heart.
Had the witch truly tortured Elsea with such terrifying images and experiences? He didn't doubt it, but did that justify Elsea's actions?
Sucking in a deep breath, he glanced at the walls around him.
He needed out of here. He needed to shift and swim in the sea.
That was the only freedom. Since selkies healed far faster than humans, mayhap if he shifted for a few minutes, 'twould restore his strength.
But first, he had to get down to the cave.
Wait. Where was his sealskin? When he'd been severely injured and near passing out, his guards had helped him. What had they done with it?
Rising and dizzily making his way to the door, he yanked it open, intending to find the two guards in question. Elsea stood in the corridor, her back against the wall. She jerked to attention, her eyes reddened.
The sight of her in pain ravaged him. He wanted to comfort her but....
"What's wrong?" she asked.
"My sealskin," he said. "Do you ken where it is?"
She nodded. "I have it."
"How?" His brain felt addled, and naught made sense.
"When the guards carried you in, you were passed out and wearing it on the lower half of your body. Your ma almost had an apoplexy."
"At least I was covered."
"Finnian took it off you and gave it to me for safekeeping."
"Well, I thank you then. Can you bring it to me?"
Her eyes widened. "Surely you're not going to swim in the sea now."
"Nay, but I need to shift. I want to see if that will help me recover faster."
"In your chamber?"
He nodded.
"Can I watch?" Curiosity lit her eyes.
"If you wish."
A small grin lifted her lips as she hurried away.
Confused, he frowned after her. His shifting disturbed most people, but she was intrigued. Warmth filled him, making him wish they could be as close as they used to be. Maybe they could... if he learned how to forgive.
When she returned, she handed him the thin, wadded-up sealskin. "I washed the blood off it and let it dry."
"I appreciate that." He followed her into the chamber, then barred the door behind them.
"You do realize I have to remove my clothing," he said.
She bit her lip and nodded, her gaze scanning down over him.
He was already becoming aroused, which made him even more disoriented.
He sat on the chair, removed his boots, then slid his feet into the sealskin. He unclasped his belt, releasing the plaid, then tossed it.
"You may have to help me with my shirt and bandage."
"I will."
"Close your eyes, lass." Her bewitching, bonny blue eyes.
"I have seen you before." One corner of her lips lifted.
"I ken it," he growled. But he did not want her to see him now. He was trying to fight down his arousal and boost his healing velocity.
He stood, tugging the sealskin up past his hips and waist. She helped him pull the shirt over his head, then removed the cloth bandage Finnian had tied around him. The stitched wound appeared dry.
After lying down on the floor, he drew the sealskin up over his head and magically shifted into seal form.
Elsea gasped, her hand covering her mouth.
Brodie relaxed into the form, so soothing. But he craved the seawater terribly. 'Twas so unnatural to be inside a room—too dry and warm. But he forced himself to relax.
Elsea sank to her knees beside him. He recalled that this was the first time she'd seen him in this form.
She'd been knocked out the other time, when he'd rescued her and swam with her to the island.
Smiling, she reached a hand out to him. Holding back his front flippers and their sharp claws, he bowed his head toward her.
"Oh," she breathed and petted him. "I cannot believe 'tis really you, Brodie. You are so adorable but... large. I had imagined you as a small seal."
He shook his head.
Even though he craved the saltwater something fierce, her hand on him was a soothing replacement. They remained that way for a few minutes as he relaxed, trying to focus on healing and gaining selkie strength.
In this form, he sank into her unconditional love like a soft, warm cloud. When he was human, his rage blocked it.