Page 57 of Bond of a Bewitched Highlander

Elsea screamed and sat bolt upright in bed. Darkness surrounded her. No battle. "Saints preserve me," she gasped. Was the witch still here?

"What happened?" The deep voice advanced toward her, and the bed shook.

Heart thudding, she shrieked and tried to scramble away.

A firm hand locked on to her arm. "'Tis me. Brodie. I'll nay hurt you, lass."

"Oh." She stilled, her sanity returning by slow degrees. Breaths calming, she remembered she was not on a battlefield, but at Farspag. "What are you doing here? In my bed?"

"I'm nay in your bed," he muttered, releasing her. "I was sitting on the chair by the hearth. I suspected the witch might give you nightmares again. What did she say?"

"That she will kill you if I stay here. But why? I don't understand."

Brodie was silent for a long moment. "If she wanted me dead, she would've killed me by now."

"And then... she showed me a skirmish you and Gavin MacTavish were involved in. 'Twas so real, I felt like I was there. I saw the two men you and Gavin defeated in battle. It appeared they would've killed you if you had not killed them first. Gavin's face was bleeding horribly."

"Indeed. That's what happened in the ambush that took place about a year and a half ago. Torr was there too."

"How is the witch involved?" Elsea asked.

"One man who died in the battle was her son, Chief Silas MacRae."

"The young man with the beard?"

"Aye. She claims we murdered him, and she wants revenge," Brodie said

"'Twas nay murder, but a fair fight. What instigated it?"

"MacRae and Gavin's cousin, Alpin MacTavish, led the ambush on us. They emerged from the wood and attacked, wanting to take the MacTavish chiefdom."

"Are Gavin and Torr safe?" She had seen neither of them in a long while.

"Aye."

Elsea understood little of it and did not want to be involved. She hated conflict.

In the predawn murkiness, she could only make out the outline of his shoulder and arm in the ivory shirt as he stood beside her bed. She would love to see him better. On the other hand, the darkness was entrancing, making their conversation more intimate. It hid the glare he sometimes cast her way. His delicious, masculine scent teased her senses.

"Do you remember anything else?" His deep voice so close gave her chills.

"Nay." She relaxed a bit more and placed her hand on his bare forearm below his rolled-up shirtsleeves. 'Twas hard-muscled, warm, and comforting beneath her palm. "I'm glad you were here when I woke from the nightmare. Even though you frightened me at first, I feel calmer now."

"Good." The firm but soothing sound of his voice brushed over her. Even though she couldn't see him now, his image was emblazoned on her mind. He was the most devilishly handsome man she had ever beheld. But she must focus on the dangerous details of her nightmare.

"Do you think Wilona MacRae truly will try to kill us, and if so, how?" she asked.

"She's a witch, so she might invent a method we could not conceive of."

"'Tis terrifying." And since much of her memory was missing, she didn't know why she'd been pulled into this. Was it because Brodie had saved her from drowning?

"I'll do my best to protect you," he murmured.

"I appreciate that. I wish I could remember... everything, so this would make sense."

"I do, too."

He was the only stable thing in her world since her head injury, but she had still not figured out what she'd done to anger him.