"He is nay here, nor has he been for a fortnight."
"The elders or your mother, then?"
Catriona snatched the paper from his grip and fled back to her chamber.
"M... m'lady!" Drury sputtered after her.
She slammed the door and barred it.
The steward knocked on the door. "M'lady, the chief will be vexed."
"I'll give it to him when I see him," she called. She listened to Drury stamping away.
Not recognizing the seal, she broke the red wax, unfolded the paper, and looked at the signature at the bottom.Gavin, Chief of Clan MacTavish.Brodie's foster brother and longtime friend. Brodie had lived with the MacTavish clan for a few years as a lad to fortify the alliance. She began reading at the top.
Brodie, Chief of Clan MacCain,
How are you, brother? I hope you and your clan are well. I have good news. The curse that afflicts us can be broken, and in my case, it has been broken. I am now a man whole again with no remaining ill effects from Wilona MacRae's evil curse. The requirement is an exchange of deep love and unwavering trust. So, you must find your soulmate.
Wilona and her accomplice, my cousin Alpin MacTavish, are headed north. I am also sending this missive to Torr. Keep watch for them. They may try to harm you or your clan.
"Mo chreach!The curse can be broken? Thank the saints! I must tell Brodie."
Catriona threw on her fur-trimmed, black woolen cloak and slipped the missive into the pocket. After peering into the corridor to ensure Drury wasn't waiting to pounce on her, she crept down the back servants' turnpike stair.
Once outside, she headed toward the rocky shore of the North Atlantic. She glanced back at the five-story tower house perched on a cliff above the sea, hoping no one saw her. The harsh wind yanked at her cloak and ankle-length, belted plaidarisaid.She tucked them tighter about her as she descended. Shivering, she inhaled the familiar scent of brine and fish. A touch of rain hissed through the air, wetting her face.
Though 'twas August, the cool wind was extra fierce today. The darker clouds to the west proclaimed another gale storm was on the way, a common occurrence here.
Gazing first north, then south along the jagged shoreline, she saw naught but gray boulders and turbulent seawater reflecting a leaden sky. Mist wreathed the mountainous isles in the distance. Nothing moved but the white-capping waves, thundering against the crags, and the screeching birds, darting this way and that—no seals lounging on rocks.
"Brodie!" She picked her way among the large stones and called out again, but the wind muted her shouts. "Blast!"
He was no doubt having a grand old time. And she was being bartered off to a barbaric beast.
She stumbled along the narrow trail to the small cave her brother used for shifting and stepped inside. "Brodie?" Her voice echoed, but no response. Empty, dark, and dank—less appealing than the unfriendly weather outside. His bulky leather satchel stuffed with clothing was still there.
She returned outside. "Brodie, get your arse back here and take responsibility for the clan. I need your help!" The fearsome wind tore at her clothing. The rain fell harder, stinging her eyes and chilling her skin. The gale had arrived.
Scrunched and shivering, she scuttled back up the path to Farspag. After unlocking the postern gate and passing through, she slipped into the kitchen and up the servants' stair.
In her bedchamber, Aggie arose from tossing peat in the fireplace and frowned. "Where on earth have you been, m'lady? You're drenched!"
Catriona took off the cloak and hung it up herself. She didn't want Aggie to find the missive in the pocket. "I was looking for Brodie."
Aggie shook her head. "Impulsive lass, running out in a gale that way. You'll catch your death."
Catriona sat on the stool by the fire to warm her hands. "I must find him forthwith so he can tell MacPeter to go to Hades."
Aggie gasped. "M'lady!"
"I refuse to marry that beast."
"'Tis too late to prevent it now. The negotiations for yourtocharare underway."
Catriona's stomach ached. "I wonder how many cattle my clan is paying him to take me off their hands?" she snapped.
"They're nay paying him; 'tis your dowry, as you well ken. Your mother said a feast will be held this night. I shall fix your hair in a lovely twist."
