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Sorcha startled at those words. “They dislike me so much that they asked him to keep his distance from me?”
Marion waved a dismissive hand. “No. It’s not you. It’s the prophecy, and it’s the fact that the king has publicly declared that he has intentions for your future. Now, as for the prophecy and Eolande, I can tell you that the MacLeod clan is one that holds a very strong belief in the power of seers and fairies, and Eolande is a well-known seer who is half-fairy. All the prophecies that she has given have come to fruition, though not every part of them, thank God above.” Marion squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, then opened them again. “But enough of what she has foretold has come to pass that all the MacLeod brothers—all the MacLeods, really—are all wary of making choices that will lead to the worst parts of Eolande’s prophecies coming true.”
Sorcha’s pulse kicked up several notches, and a strange, breathless feeling started in her chest. She pressed a hand to her forehead, suddenly feeling overly hot, as well. “I believe,” she said, her voice shaky to her own ears, “that ye better tell me of this prophecy now since it apparently involves me.”
Marion bit her lip as her gaze swept over Sorcha. “Oh dear. I didn’t mean to worry you, Sorcha. Though, now that I think upon it, I don’t believe hearing the prophecy will ease your worry. And beyond that, I know Cameron would not want me to tell you, so I should likely have kept it to myself.”
Sorcha frowned. “Did he tell ye nae to tell me?”
“Well, no,” Marion hedged, “but he did not tell me of the prophecy at all. My husband did, and before he could swear me to secrecy, which I could tell he was about to do, I kissed him senseless.” She offered an unapologetic smile. “So you see, I am quite sure neither of them would want me to say anything to you.”
“So ye’re nae going to tell me?” Sorcha asked, unable to keep the incredulity from her tone.
“Of course I’m going to tell you! We women must lead in matters of the heart because the men may as well be blind and deaf for the way they handle love.”
Sorcha sagged with relief, and Marion winked at her. “I just had to make sure you understood I was notsupposedto be telling you, and I wanted to explain why. This too must stay between us for now.”
Sorcha nodded and wiggled forward on her seat as Marion took a deep breath. “I may not remember it exactly—”
“Simply tell me to the best of yer remembrance,” Sorcha said, trying desperately to keep the anxiety out of her voice.
Marion nodded, then twined her hands together. “I know you don’t recall the first time ye truly met Cameron, but what do ye recall?”
“His hands. A woman staring at me. Daggers.”
“Well, apparently you had entered the annual dagger-throwing contest that happens every year at the St. John’s Eve festival. You won the contest, besting Cameron, who is known throughout the land as the most skilled with daggers.”
Sorcha stared down at her hands in wonder. Her fingers tingled suddenly, and she could practically feel a cool, heavy weight there, but whether it was from a lost memory of throwing daggers or she was feeling these things because of what Marion was revealing, she could not truly say.
“Anyway, that is not the important part,” Marion went on. “Cameron ran after you when you fled him, and before he could catch you and learn who you were, the seer stopped him and told him to let you leave. She said that particular night was not the time he was meant to meet you.”
“What did she mean by that?” Sorcha asked.
Marion gave her a knowing look. “I do believe he asked the same thing, and Eolande told him that you would come to him once more.” She paused a moment, looking contemplative. “I think she said that you would come to him in a battle.”
Sorcha hissed in a breath.
Marion nodded. “Yes, I agree. Eolande also said you would be bathed in blood…” Marion’s gaze strayed to Sorcha’s injured head. “She also told him you would be marked by a heart.”
“My God,” Sorcha whispered, her fingers straying to the mark on her body that was shaped like a heart. “How could she ken such things?”
“Because she is a seer,” Marion said simply. Her voice had dropped low and held a tinge of awe and wariness.
“What else did she say about me?” Sorcha demanded, her own wariness filling her completely now that she had heard what the seer had gotten correct about her and how she would meet Cameron once again.
Marion worried her lower lip for a minute before answering. “She said he would betray everything he holds dear for you.”
“What?” Sorcha exclaimed, her chest tightening.
Marion nodded. “King. Family.” Her voice had dropped even lower. “The honor that means so much to him.”
“Nay,” she cried, horrified. She shook her head almost violently. “I’d nae ever ask him to do these things for me.”
“I do not think you would need to ask if he was in love with you,” Marion said in a gentle tone.
To be loved so greatly that a man would risk all, betray all, made her feel both hopeful and horrified. She wanted to be fervently loved, but not at the price of a man going against all that meant anything to him. Her blood roared in her ears as she considered what she had just learned. She did not love Cameron. She barely knew him. He did not love her, either. But there was a strange pull between them. She felt it, and he had said he did, as well. And then there was passion so hot it scalded.
“The other prophecies Eolande has foretold to the other brothers… How much of them have come true?” Sorcha asked, her voice trembling.
