“I’m sorry I put us all in danger. But I can’t just stand by and do nothing—not when I know I can help.”
He rubbed at his forehead. Sandy brown hair stirred in the breeze. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I did…in a fashion.”
“Deductive reasoning?”
“Perhaps I wasn’t completely honest, but you can see why, can’t you? How was I to know how you’d react?”
He strolled closer, the strong planes of his forehead and jaw becoming visible, though his eyes were still dark shadows. He was so much larger than she was—broad, hulking. She should be intimidated, but she was not. She felt safe with him, protected.
“Ye say ye’re sorry, and yet you still put yourself—all of us—in grave danger over a dead girl.”
“I didn’t know she was dead until I’d touched the handkerchief. A mother and daughter were lost to each other, and I was their only chance. And after, when I realized she was dead, I couldn’t let such an act go unpunished. It betrayed Laurie’s memory.”
“We never knew the lass. She was no one to us. Is she worth dying for?”
“I know her. Now.” She shook her head, looking to the moon. “You can’t understand, and I know not how to explain it. Iknowher. She’s inside my head now, part of me, and I’ll never forget her.” She looked back at him. “If left unpunished, Ewan Kennedy would do it again, to some other lass. Laurie knew that.”
He didn’t respond. She thought he looked at her, but couldn’t tell for certain. He seemed enormous in the darkness, looming before her. She shivered.
“The others…Stephen and Fergus. I suppose they’re afraid of me now?”
“No.”
Something eased inside Isobel, and she felt lighter. She countedStephen and Fergus as friends, and Isobel MacDonell did not have many friends. It pleased her she’d not lost her newest ones.
“What of you?” she asked.
“Me?” He strolled closer until he stood directly in front of her.
Her blood warmed, racing through her. She tilted her head to meet his eyes. The way he looked at her was odd, his eyes moving over her face as though trying to memorize it. It was too dark to see the clear amber color of them, but she didn’t need the light, she knew them now as she knew the psalters. Memorized them, so they came to her unbidden.
“Aye, lass, you terrify me.”
She frowned. He didn’t look terrified. He mocked her. She sighed, the last weight of apprehension lifting, then smiled. “You jest.”
He shook his head slowly. “And you take none of this seriously,” he said mildly. “That’s what astounds me most.”
“I take it very seriously! When I was in England I rarely did it in front of others, and I almost always wore my gloves. People went to Ceri when they lost things, then I helped her find them.”
“Why would you evenwantto, when it makes you so ill?”
“Oh, that?” She made a dismissive gesture. “That doesn’t happen very often. Only if someone experienced extreme violence—and usually only with people who are dead. And sometimes if the person is very evil.” She paused, searching his face. “If you have something of your sister’s, I can discover if she’s still alive.”
He said nothing, staring down at her, his brow furrowed.
“And if she’s alive, I can tell you where she is.”
“And if she died a horrible death? What then? You relive it until it you’re so weak you can do naught but sleep?”
Isobel hadn’t considered that. She never did. It happened, when it happened and she recovered. She shrugged. “It won’t kill me. Sometimes I sleep a long while—other times I’m better after naught more than a nap. Besides, I can stop it anytime I want to.”
He raised a skeptical brow. “Ye can?”
“Yes—I’m almost always still aware of the object in my hand and can release it anytime I wish. So Iamin control.”
“Almostalways?” he challenged in a slightly teasing tone, but he wanted her to—she could see it in his face. The hope, the fear. And she longed to do this for him.
