Page 2 of Bond of a Bewitched Highlander

Being a selkie was the only thing he enjoyed now. Could he make them understand?

"When I'm swimming in the ocean as a seal, I'm free. Unencumbered by... all of this." Brodie motioned at the desk, the hearth, and the thick stone walls. They were like a dry, overheated prison. His skin craved the feel of cool water sliding across it, so soothing.

"Are you part of the selkie society?" Torr's sympathetic gaze held no recrimination. Mayhap they were trying to grasp his reality. They were indeed the two men he trusted most in the world. He'd been close to them since they were lads, and even though they had experienced the curse together, it had not brought them closer. It had affected them in different ways. No doubt 'twas part of Wilona MacRae's plan to destroy their brotherhood and friendship. Her strategy hadn't worked, for they were growing close again.

Brodie reclaimed his seat at the desk. "Aye, they accept me as a newcomer. Each of the various tribes has its own leader. The tribe I'm a part of is having a problem of late with the female selkies disappearing."

Gavin frowned. "What's happening to them?"

"'Tis unknown whether they're being abducted by other selkie tribes for wives or by human pirates. Or mayhap even a local Highland clan. I'm trying to help them uncover the truth."

Torr sat forward, his green eyes troubled. "Can we help?"

"Nay. They mistrust humans. 'Twould only make matters worse. Also, keep this from the ladies, for they'll worry. Cat, in particular, would try to interfere."

"'Tis likely. Just as she tried to bring Elsea back for you," Torr said.

The mere sound of his former betrothed's name was like a punch to the face, a deep, thudding ache. "What? Saints!"

Torr nodded. "Aye, we went on quite an adventure, visiting the MacAuley clan."

"I'm glad you didn't bring that faithless wench here." Rising, Brodie growled a curse and strode to the window again. Elsea had been painfully beautiful with her long blond hair and perfect face the last time he'd seen her a year and a half ago. When he'd demanded to know why she'd betrayed him and destroyed their future, despite having tears in her dusky blue eyes, she'd given him no good reason. In that moment, he knew she had never loved him. All had been a lie. She'd destroyed his dream... and him.

If he didn't care one iota about her or who she bedded, why did visualizing her face still gore him? He had already cut her out of his heart, but the wound had not yet healed.

"We simply want you to be as happy as we are," Gavin said in a serious tone. "And out from under the control of a witch. In addition, 'twas my blade that killed her son in battle. So, I feel responsible for your predicament."

"There's nay need to fash over me. I'm well." 'Haps he'd said that in a tone that was far too bitter. His life was not as he'd hoped it would be, but he was doing the best he could under the circumstances. He would survive. 'Twas over with Elsea, and he would never wish to go back.

As for the selkies, he did not want to pull his foster brother and soon-to-be brother-in-law into these conflicts and problems. He wanted them to enjoy their newfound marital bliss and honeymoon phase.

Brodie did not expect or foresee such a pleasant fate for himself, but he was happy for Gavin and Torr.

He remembered the bottle of aged whisky in the bottom desk drawer and pulled it out. After finding three clean glasses on the nearby table, he splashed a dram into each. Inhaling the scent of strong whisky, he raised his glass. "To Torr and Cat, and to Gavin and Dani. May you be healthy and happy all your days... and busy raising bairns."

Gavin chuckled. "And to Brodie. May you become smitten with a lass who will love you enough to destroy your curse."

Brodie scowled.

"Aye." Torr grinned and clinked his glass to theirs. "Slàinte mhath!"

***

SCOTTISH HIGHLANDS, October 1630

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LADY ELSEA MACAULEY leaned forward over Freya's neck as the mare galloped across the moorland, hoofbeats hammering, sword thumping her leg. Her feet balanced in the stirrups, legs flexed, Elsea held her body above the saddle. Clutching the reins, she propped her fisted hands against the horse's neck.

Every day the weather allowed, Elsea and Freya thundered across the moors as if the devil himself chased after them. Was she searching for something... meaning? Purpose? For the last year and a half, this dark limbo had ensnared Elsea. She waited. For what?

Naught existed but emptiness.

The hellbent riding was the only thing that made Elsea feel alive. Thankfully, her four brothers did not prevent her frequent rides or try to steal her freedom. With her reputation destroyed, 'twas likely her eldest brother, William, the MacAuley chief, had no hope or intention of marrying her to anyone of prominence.

Like a chief.

Brodie's face, with his striking good looks, appeared in her mind for a moment. Mysterious obsidian eyes, black hair brushing his broad shoulders....