Page 31 of Bond of a Bewitched Highlander

The last time she'd seen him, he'd threatened to strangle her.

Would he? Was she in danger now? How did she come to be with Brodie and his latest conquest?

Her head aching, she struggled to conjure up her last memory.

She'd been on a birlinn at night. Someone had kicked her down, and she'd hit her head.

Male shouts echoed from a distance. Was that real or a figment of her imagination?

"What the devil? Who is out there?" Brodie mumbled a curse. Though Elsea had not heard his voice in a long time, she would never forget it. She had always loved his deep, rumbling voice, but now he sounded furious.

"Keep an eye on her," he said. "I'll be right back." His footsteps rushed away.

"Very well," came the female reply. Leather slippers crunching in the grit on the ground, the woman came closer. "I'll watch the wench for you." She chuckled and crouched close. "Hmph. Still breathing. 'Tis unfortunate."

Saints preserve me! What was the harlot up to? Through a narrow crack in her lids, Elsea observed her. The bitter, dark-haired woman rose, moved several feet away, and with both hands, picked up a sizable stone from the ground.

Gritting her teeth despite her terrible headache, Elsea readied herself.

Coming closer, the wench raised the makeshift weapon over Elsea's head and dropped it.

Elsea rolled aside, and the stone hit the ground.

"Are you mad?" Dizzy, Elsea shoved to her feet and backed away. With the sudden jarring movement, the excruciating agony in her head almost blinded her. Lightheaded, she caught against the rough stone wall.

"Bitch!" The woman's menacing dark brown eyes reflected the firelight. "You are to stay away from Brodie." She picked up the rock and advanced again.

"You are the bitch!" Elsea reached for the sheathed dirk at her waist but.... She glanced down. Her belt and most of her clothes were gone. "Bollocks!" She only wore a smock. She reached for the sgian dubh in her left sleeve. Gone. Her right sleeve? Aye, finally a weapon. She withdrew it and wielded it in her right hand. "Stay away from me!"

"Humph. Do you think I'm afraid of that toothpick?" The woman whispered nonsensical words, and the knife flew from Elsea's hand.

She gasped. What kind of sorcery was this? Spying a jagged rock on the ground nearby, she snatched it up. "Who are you?" she demanded.

"That matters not. All that matters is that I ken who you are."

"How?" Had she met this woman before? She appeared to be about Elsea's own age. "And why are you trying to kill me?"

The woman emitted an unnerving laugh. The ring of it was somewhat familiar.

"Brodie might yet carry a wee torch for you, jezebel, but I will snuff it out straightaway." The hag lobbed the stone toward Elsea's head.

She leapt out of the way, then cast her own rock.

The trajectory veered away at a sharp angle, and the rock landed in the fire. Flames, smoke, and sparks exploded outward.

'Slud! How had that been possible?

The strange woman's face flickered and blurred to gaunt and older, like an illusion. What on earth? Her hair shimmered as if moonlight beamed over it, turning it from dark brown to flaming ginger. Her midnight eyes glowed and lightened to a vicious, poisonous green. Elsea blinked hard, thinking her head injury must have skewed her vision. But nay, she had seen that woman before. She murmured unintelligible words and... vanished.

The witch!

Elsea's gaze searched the cavern, her head throbbing.

'Twas the witch who had threatened to kill Brodie. She had cursed him, Torr, and Gavin.

Why was Brodie here with her? Having a tryst? The idea turned her stomach. Did he ken who she was?

Nay, the witch had altered her appearance.