“Acat,” Harry repeated.
“Don’t like the damn things,” Monty said. “The dogs would tear it to shreds.”
“Your pups don’t seem on guard now,” Harry murmured.
“On guard for what?”
“A cat.”
Monty shook his head. “You’ve been dreaming. I have no cat here. May we discuss this in the morning?”
“Yes, of course.”
His friend shut the door.
Harry returned to his room and sank down on the bed. There was no cat here and yet he had touched it. The animal had been living and breathing and not a dream.
He crossed over to the bedroom’s desk, set down his candle, and pulled out pen and paper. Dipping the quill into the well, he began to write furiously everything he remembered from the dream.
His brother and his wife had dreams as well. They kept a record of them in a journal because they believed Fenella threatened them in their dreams. Harry had read what they’d written. There had been images of fire. He’d had fire.
However, his had been a dream of seduction.
And that strange little cat with its folded-over ears had not been a figment of his imagination. He wasn’t a fanciful man. He believed what he saw, and he’d seen that cat, had felt the roughness of its tongue and the weight of its body.
He was close to Fenella.
Suddenly, the overwhelming emotions he’dexperienced with the witch the night at the Great Oak were no longer a trick of his mind. They had been real.
And then he had a flash of insight.He hadn’t been able to see her face, but there had been the moon in her eyes. It had been a reflection—in person and in the dream.
“She wore spectacles,” Harry whispered, not believing he could have missed something so obvious. A witch with the need for eyeglasses.
A witch who wanted to seduce him.
Harry set aside the pen, knowing now that he didn’t need to search for Fenella. She was coming for him.
He jumped up from the chair at the writing table. He charged into the hall and began banging on Monty’s door with his fist.
“What is it now?” Monty demanded throwing open the door. “Are you being attacked by more cats?”
“The devil take the cat,” Harry answered. “I’m going with you to the dance tomorrow night.”
Chapter Five
“Whatever you do, Portia, donotwear your spectacles,” Lady Maclean ordered in a furious whisper as they came into sight of Borrodale’s barn. She, Portia and Minnie rode in the pony cart all bundled up in their sensible woolen cloaks over their finery. Portia was driving.
The barn was a huge stone building and the site of numerous dances through the year, although this was the first the Macleans would attend. Tonight the building was lit with what seemed to be a hundred torches. A crowd was already gathered, and the sound of music and laughter could be heard all around.
“Yes, Mother,” Portia murmured with a hint of annoyance.
“Then take them off now,” her mother said.
“Wouldn’t you rather I see where I’m going thislast bit of the way?” Portia demanded. “Or shall we just trot over people?”
“Oh, what nonsense,” Lady Maclean said, plucking the lenses right off Portia’s nose. “You see perfectly well without them.” She tucked Portia’s precious glasses into her reticule.
Portia didn’t see “perfectly well” ... but she did see well enough. Unfortunately, she found she could develop a headache if she went without them for too long.
