Chapter 5
Torr observed the twowomen he had watched the previous night when he had been in kelpie form. He still didn't recognize them. The one closest to him smiled, revealing blackened, rotting teeth. Aside from that, he'd never before seen a wench with such a dirty face. And she smelled as if she'd been sleeping with cattle.
"I'm glad you did nay recognize me," the lass said.
"Should I?" Torr asked.
"I'm Catriona."
He scowled. Who in blazes was Catriona? The only one he knew was Brodie's bairn of a sister, and this hag certainly wasn't her.
"Catriona MacCain," she stated firmly. "Brodie's sister!"
Torr drew back. "Nay. Cat's but a wee lass."
She propped a hand on her broad, lumpy hip and glared at him. "It's been years since I was a wee lass. I'm twenty summers now. Do you have some water where I could bathe the soot from my face? Then you will recognize me."
"I have nay time for this, mistress. I'm busy."
She gave him a pained look, as if he'd hurt her feelings. "Please. I have important news."
Though he was skeptical she was who she claimed to be... if she had news from Brodie, he needed to hear it. "Very well. Enter." Waving them forward, he pointed toward a pitcher and basin of water. "Why did Brodie nay come himself?"
"He has been gone a long while, out on the isles," she said, her back still to him. Her voice sounded far different from that of the lass he remembered.
"Why?" Torr asked.
"The curse."
Torr's stomach knotted. Wilona MacRae's sorcery had near destroyed all their lives.
Once his visitor had washed her face and wiped the soot from her teeth, she faced Torr again. By the saints, she did resemble Catriona, but like a woman now instead of a young girl. Surely, she was not old enough to be grown. She lowered her cowl, revealing flaming ginger hair.
"This is my extra clothing and food." She pulled sacks from within her worn, belted-plaid arisaid, making her look much slimmer than before. She was skilled with a disguise.
He frowned, moving closer to examine her. She was lovelier than he remembered, her pale blue eyes multifaceted like aquamarine and her skin smooth and rosy from the recent scrubbing.
"Cat?" How could it be? He frowned, trying to reconcile this woman with the wee lass he remembered. A couple of years had passed since he'd last seen her, but he couldn't recall what she'd looked like then.
"Ah, you remember." She smiled, her teeth now white.
She was pure temptation, but he refused to get distracted by her beauty. "Are you daft? Coming here alone."
She scowled. "I'm nay alone. Aggie is with me."
"She's but a maid, aye?" He eyed the woman, wondering if she, too, wore a disguise.
"Indeed, but she only appears weak. She once fought in a battle alongside her late husband, and she can run like a stag."
"Still. The danger. Outlaws and highwaymen roam about. They'd be overjoyed to find a tasty morsel such as yourself."
"In truth?" Cat's voice squeaked before she smiled, and a bright flush crept up her neck and over her face. Mischief and interest gleamed in her eyes, the kind that brought Torr's body to life. Hell. He had been too long without a woman.
This lass represented the kind of trouble a man liked.
Och!
She was about eight years his junior, he recalled. When she'd been a young girl, she'd always followed him around, staring at him and asking silly questions when he'd visited Brodie. She was supposed to be a child, not this breathtaking woman. 'Twas bewildering.
