Page 1 of Bond of a Bewitched Highlander

Chapter 1

Farspag Tower, Scottish Highlands, September 1630

At his desk in the solar, Chief Brodie MacCain finished signing the marriage contract uniting his sister, Catriona, to one of his best friends, Torr MacElrath. Brodie had never expected the match, but he was glad for it. He knew Torr would treat Cat well and keep her out of trouble. After placing the quill into the inkwell, he sprinkled sand over the wet ink to speed the drying.

The acidic, metallic scent of the ink burning his nose, he rose and opened the windowpane for some fresh air, then resumed his seat.

"This Margaret who lives in the cave with you...." Chief Gavin MacTavish sprawled in the chair beside Torr's on the opposite side of the massive desk, his long black hair pulled back in a queue. "Is she human or a selkie?"

Brodie glared at his meddlesome foster brother. Why did Gavin care who Brodie dallied with?

In one way, he was still vexed at the two for retrieving him from Ròncreag Isle to sort out the tangle Cat had gotten herself into... or rather that his mother had dragged her into. But he was glad he could help Cat. Now, she was Torr's problem.

As for Margaret, she was a seductive young woman who had shown up in the cave on the island one night. She'd claimed to have fallen from a passing galley, but her hair had not been wet. Mayhap the fierce wind had dried it. She'd arrived without clothing, claiming she'd had to remove it to prevent herself from drowning. Her excuse had sounded plausible. He had not found a boat or galley beached anywhere, but someone could've brought her. She might be a pirate's daughter, for all he knew.

"She's only there temporarily." Brodie had no attachment to Margaret, and she could leave whenever she wanted.

Gavin's pale blue eyes narrowed. "Is she a selkie?"

"What does it matter?"

"Or is she a witch?" The white slash scar down the left side of Gavin's face was a vivid reminder of the ambush and the skirmish they had fought against Silas MacRae, Alpin MacTavish, and their men a year and a half earlier—the skirmish that had provoked the witch's curse against all three of them. Her vile son had been killed in the ambush he led, and she'd accused Brodie, Torr, and Gavin of his murder.

"She's nay Wilona MacRae, if 'tis what you're implying." The very thought repulsed Brodie.

Gavin raised a dark eyebrow. "Are you certain? If she can shapeshift into any animal, could she also shapeshift into a different-looking woman?"

Brodie shook his head, baffled by this logic. Not a chance in hell. "Margaret is mayhap twenty or twenty-five summers—half Lady MacRae's age. And her eyes are brown instead of green."

"Is she Scottish?" Gavin asked.

"Aye."

"How long has she been with you?" Torr asked, his eyes curious and concerned.

Not remembering exactly when she had appeared, Brodie shrugged. "Mankind is far more obsessed with clocks and calendars than selkies are."

"Do you love her?" Gavin inquired.

Hell, no, he wanted to say, but he was tired of answering their questions. "You both pry too much!" Ready to return to the sea, Brodie surged to his feet. The human world had become too complicated and irritating. He strode to the window and gazed out at the slate-gray sea and distant islands cloaked in mist. Aye, the water and the salty sea air tamed his ire.

"She is a fling, naught more," Brodie grumbled. "I'm sure I'll tire of her soon."

"Why did you leave with such haste last night?" Gavin asked.

Brodie turned and glowered. "Why are you two so nosy?"

"Part of the reason we're here is to help you vanquish the curse," Gavin stated firmly. "Are we wasting our time?"

Aye, they were. Brodie ground his teeth. After everything he'd lost, being a selkie was all he had. 'Twas a curse, true, but mayhap it had saved his sanity. He still had his clan, but they had little understanding of him and treated him like an outsider. His mother was highly disappointed in him, and he was certain his father would be, too, if he were alive.

"He loves the curse," Torr murmured aside.

Gavin blew out an impatient breath. "How is it nay torturous to you?"

Torr and Gavin no longer shifted. They had destroyed their curses by trusting and falling in love with their respective ladies, Cat and Dani.

Brodie was glad for them, but he had wasted all his love and trust on Lady Elsea MacAuley, a cold, deceptive woman whose betrayal had destroyed his soul. He had nothing left to give. Maybe his curse would remain forever.