Page 51 of Sins of the Highlander

“How far?”

“At this rate? A couple hours, and she bides on the north shore.”

“Make for her home then.”

“Some dinna hold with witches, Rob. Best ye ask Elspeth her wishes on the matter.”

While ye can was the unspoken rest of his thought.

Rob looked down at her. Her eyes were closed and her mouth slack. She was in no condition to make choices.

But Rob was. Perhaps if he was at Caisteal Dubh, he might be able to remove the bolt and stanch the bleeding. He could do nothing for her on Angus’s swaying vessel.

If the witch demanded his soul in exchange for healing Elspeth, he was ready to swear it away.

“Make for the witch, Angus. If there be a price for turning to white magick, let it be on my head.”

Chapter 17

As soon as Rob laid her on the pallet, her breathing went shallow and quick.

“I Saw it,” she said, her eyes wide, her brows furrowed. She put a trembling hand to her temple and pressed her palm flat. “I knew the each uisge was coming, but I didna warn ye in time.”

“Hush, leannán.” The endearment passed his lips before he realized what he was saying. “Rest yourself. Only a little while,” he said softly. He snugged his body tight against hers for warmth, careful to stay on her uninjured side. “Angus knows where we’ll find the help ye need.”

“Aye, we will.” She nodded and closed her eyes. “A bolt in the dark finds its mark.”

Those were her very words when she was staring sightlessly over his shoulder, just before they struck the rope snare. He’d feared at the time she’d gone a bit daft, but now the words made sense to Rob’s mind. Somehow Elspeth had known the crossbow bolt was coming for her.

And Lachlan Drummond was the each uisge she meant, the cruel water horse come to claim his bride. Elspeth Stewart had the Sight, but her Gift’s warning came to her too late to do any good.

“Open your eyes, lass,” he urged, palming her cheek. “Talk to me, Elspeth. Ye dinna want to sleep now.”

“Aye, I do.” He heard pain in her voice. Her skin was clammy and moist. When his hand slid down to her neck, he had to search for the pulse point. Her heart raced, but the beat wasn’t very strong.

The deerhound tried to join them in the cabin, creeping in a crouch toward Elspeth, but Rob ordered him out. Fingal whined but wouldn’t go far. He lay across the entrance to the cabin with his muzzle resting on his forepaws, his watchful eyes glowing in the dark.

“How long have ye had the gift of Sight?” Rob asked. It was all he could think of to encourage her to talk. If she slipped into sleep, surely the sleep of death was only a short step farther.

“All my life.” Her words were slurred. “Oh, my head!”

If her head ached so that she didn’t complain of the bolt in her thigh, the pain at her temples must be excruciating.

“But it didna serve me well,” she said with a sob in her voice. “I ne’er See what I wish. Only what I’m shown. Sometimes, I dinna even know if the things I See are true.”

“What was the first thing ye ever Saw?”

“A boy,” she whispered, turning her head this way and that as if she could move away from the pain. “He was playing by a well. He lost his balance and fell into it.”

Rob’s breath caught. He’d fallen into a well when he was very young. He hadn’t seen more than three or four summers. It was his earliest and most vivid memory.

“He was so afraid,” she went on, pausing between phrases to take shuddering breaths. “It was so dark and cold, and evil things were crawling on the walls of the well.”

The water was so frigid, all the breath had rushed out of his body. Rob couldn’t swim, but once he bobbed to the surface, he’d clung to the sides of the well. He’d broken his nails trying to claw his way up the slick rock walls. Worms and creeping things had haunted his dreams for months afterward.

“Did ye see him being pulled out?”

“No,” she said sadly. “I ne’er did. The vision ended, and I dinna know if he lived or died.”