Page 112 of Bond of a Bewitched Highlander

"Aye, well. I did nay wish to put either of you in danger. You were both newly married to your ladies. 'Twas your honeymoon."

"You are too selfless by far." Torr grinned.

"Cat would murder me if I caused you to be killed in battle," Brodie grumbled.

Torr snorted. "You have little confidence in my fighting skills."

"The witch is involved in this, and she must be dispatched for all our safety," Gavin said. "As long as she lives, she'll never stop trying to kill us in revenge."

"After Brodie's curse is destroyed," Torr reminded him.

"Of course." Gavin lifted a brow, giving Brodie a stern look.

The implication was not lost on him.

"You cannot force me to love and trust Elsea, or anyone else for that matter."

Gavin lifted his hands in surrender. "I would never attempt it. I'm nay that daft."

"'Tis up to you, Brodie," Torr said.

"I'm glad you see it that way," Brodie said. "How about a dram of whisky?" He motioned toward the bottle on the shelf near the door, which contained little, in truth. Finnian was stingy and trying to keep it out of his reach. Brodie had never overindulged in drink, so he didn't know why Finnian was so worried.

Torr poured three small glasses and handed them out. After a toast to Brodie's good health and speedy recovery, they sipped.

"So, what is the next move after you recover?" Gavin asked.

"No doubt, the bastard earl will again try to abduct the female selkies. The witch is helping him, which gives him an edge. I'm thinking he may be holding the female selkies he still has at Glenhaish Castle. 'Tis one of five he owns."

"I ken where that is," Torr said.

"Indeed?" Brodie was surprised at that.

"Aye, 'tis on Loch Long which connects to the sea."

"He could easily take them there on the galleys," Brodie said.

Torr nodded.

"The damnable witch stole the keek stane back, so now she can spy on us and see our plans," Brodie told Gavin.

"Hell," he muttered. "And she can inform the earl."

"Exactly. She could be listening right now."

***

LATER THAT AFTERNOON, Gavin returned to Brodie's room, bringing the half bottle of whisky he'd had in his desk drawer.

"Bless you, brother. Finnian is stingy with the whisky."

Gavin poured two drams into the glasses. "Is he still giving you the strong tisanes with poppy?"

"Nay. He says I must tough it out from here on."

"Mayhap this will help." Gavin raised his glass. "Slàinte mhath!"

Brodie followed suit, then sipped the potent, peaty liquid, enjoying the burn down his throat. "Where's Torr?"