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“Might we sit?” she asked, her voice wobbling with what sounded suspiciously like fear.
Silently, he led her to the bed, and when she started to sit beside him, he pulled her into his lap and encircled her in his arms. She blinked in surprise at him, and a demure smile lit her beautiful face. He studied that smile. Was she shy? He hardly knew. They’d not had time to really learn each other, but he intended to correct that.
“Tell me yer fears,” he said, “and I will conquer them for ye.”
She ran a hand down his face, her skin a whisper against his. “I believe ye.” She took a deep breath. “Eolande told me several things, one of which has already occurred.”
He raised his eyebrows questioningly, even as his chest tightened at her words.
“She said she saw an attack coming verra soon, and she warned me that we should make haste to Dunvegan from the Fairy Pools with our weapons drawn.”
Unease rippled through him. He did not like that part of Eolande’s foretelling for Sorcha had already occurred. “What else did the seer say?”
Fear flittered across Sorcha’s face. “She said that two deaths would come to pass that would break my heart.” He tensed at the news. “While I was being attacked earlier,” she continued, “I thought the deaths she had seen were possibly Marion’s, Bridgette’s, or Broch’s since they were with me as the men were trying to kill me. That is why I raced into the clearing alone. I wanted to draw the men away to keep them safe and give them time to possibly fire on the men instead of being fired upon.”
“Ye are verra braw and verra foolish,” he admonished. “Ye risked yer life—”
“To save others,” she interrupted, her chin lifting into a stubborn tilt and her eyes glittering with defiance.
He had to force himself not to smile at her display of spirit and resolve. He was glad she was brave, but he didn’t want her putting her life in danger. “There is a difference,” he said evenly, “between being braw and reckless, and being braw and thoughtful.”
She frowned and tried to wiggle away, but he refused to let her go. They were learning each other. Didn’t she realize it? He did, and he quite liked the process. It was like nothing he had ever experienced before.
“What is the difference?” she asked, her words stiff with her irritation.
“Death,” he said flatly.
Her eyes narrowed upon him. He likely should have chosen a more delicate way of showing her where she had erred, but he needed her to understand and never forget it. Still, he did not want this to result in an argument. He brought a hand to her shoulder and rubbed it gently, hoping she would soften with his touch. After a breath, her frown disappeared, and the rigidness of her body loosened. It pleased him greatly that his touch could bring her comfort, and a smile pulled at his lips, which caused her to scowl at him.
“I ken what ye just did,” she grumbled. “I did nae ken it in the moment ye were doing it, but I ken it now.”
He ran his hand from her shoulder into her hair and twined his fingers in the silken strands before drawing her face toward him and brushing his lips over hers. Desire darkened her eyes, which made his body throb to claim her mouth, but now was not the time. “I’m gladdened that ye trust me enough that I can soothe ye with a touch.”
“Are ye now?” she teased, even as she blushed. “I wonder,” she murmured in a low, voice, “if I can do the same for ye…” She brought her hands to his chest and ran her fingers soft as a feather from his collarbone, over his stomach, to low where his braies sat on his hips. A shudder of yearning coursed through him, and she smiled wickedly.
With a growl, he caught her hands as she started to slide them back up his chest. “If ye dunnae cease that,bean bhàsail,I kinnae vow I’ll be able to control myself.”
She tilted her head, as if thinking seriously about his calling her a temptress. “I believe I like that ye see me as such. I dunnae recall what I was before I woke up here, which makes me feel powerless, but if I’m a dangerous enchantress, then I have power.” She grinned, displaying two dimples and the undeniable fact that she truly was a temptress, albeit the most innocent, honest one he’d ever met. Her eyes turned a swirling, sultry gray as she stared at him. “I feel as if we’re racing against time and the inevitable, and that we may well lose.” She inhaled a shaky breath. “I dunnae wish ye to cease if after hearing all I must reveal, ye dunnae wish it, either.”
He pulled her hands against his chest to let her feel what she did to him. Her eyes widened, and her lips parted. “M’eudail,”he growled.
“Yer treasure,” she repeated, a sigh of happiness escaping her.
God’s teeth, her innocent sounds made him want to strip her of her léine and worship her body. “Tell me the rest,” he said, his voice hoarse with his need for her.
“Eolande said the attack would cause a change.” Sorcha’s gaze darted to his and then to her hands. “I do question now if the change she spoke of was this—us—accepting the desire between us.”
He nodded, pondering the same. “What else?”
“She said she saw someone who would betray me. Someone I care for and fear. How can I care for someone I fear?”
He thought about that for a moment before responding. “Perchance ye cared for the person before they made ye fear them. Perchance there are ties that bind ye that make it hard to cease caring, in spite of yer fear. Perchance someone in yer family?” he hazarded.
She shrugged helplessly. “I wish I kenned.” She sucked in her lower lip, silent for a breath. “I had another memory come to me. Do ye recall that I told ye of remembering a man who was childlike in his head?”
“Aye,” he replied. He had to force his tone to remain even, though he felt suddenly tense.
“He is my uncle, and his name is Brom.”
