James held her firm as she fainted in his arms.
Chapter 6
“She needs a doctor, James!”
Magda had half heard the woman, clearly agitated, carrying on for some time in a hollow drone, as if speaking from the end of a very long tunnel. Her voice, surprisingly deep for a female, slowly resolved into intelligible words that pierced Magda’s consciousness.
“You have a care,” she shouted, “who you bring under your roof, young man!”
“I’m no longer a young man, Margaret,” James replied wearily, “and you’re not our mother to speak to me so.”
“You have a care,” she enunciated, heart set on continuing her train of thought, “who you bring under your roof! You are not the only one bearing the name of Graham of Montrose.”
“Last I checked, dearest sister, your name is now Napier.”
“You understand my meaning!” Magda heard a swat, sounding much like a glove hitting a man’s head. “And you are lucky I called today, or you might have made an ill-informed decision. Now you will get that maid in here and send for a physician at once!”
“No doctor.” Magda’s eyes fluttered open, and once again her first sight was James, sitting at her side, a cool cloth pressed to her wrist, concern etched in the corners of his eyes. He gave her a quiet smile that shut out the incessant nattering in the background.
“I find you once again in my bed, hen.” His voice was gentle as he began to lightly stroke the damp cloth along the sensitive skin of her inner wrist and palm.
“Not in front of me, you scamp,” the woman reprimanded, wagging a beige glove at James. “I’ll not have you endeavor your latest conquest in my sight!”
Magda turned and had to smile at the person attached to the scalding voice. Hovering on the other side of the bed was a woman with an uncanny resemblance to James, bearing his black eyes and longish nose on plump cheeks that wore an easy smile despite her constant admonishments. The woman leaned across the bed and playfully whacked James on the back of the head for good measure.
“Magda, may I present my sister Margaret?” James nodded hesitantly toward the women, trepidation clear on his face. “Margaret, meet Magdalen.” Magda gave her a warm smile. She recognized a big sister when she saw one.
Then her smile faltered, the light in her eyes going instantly cold at the memory of her own little brother, and the constant bickering that had belied her fierce love for him. She never knew when Peter’s loss would surge to the forefront; it was always the more brutal when so unexpected.
“James!” Margaret shrieked. “The poor creature withers in front of us even now, and you!” She pointed a thick finger at her brother. “You’ll get your physician now, James, or I swear I’ll—”
“No, really,” Magda interrupted, “I’m fine.” Her eyes met James’s, and she added softly, “Really, I am.”
Tossing the cloth aside, he gripped her hand in his. “Leave us, Margaret,” he said, eyes not leaving Magda’s face.
“Well!” she announced with mock anger. “I’ll be right outside this door if this beast offends you in any manner.”
A weak but encouraging nod from Magda sent Margaret out of the room in a rustle of skirts and dramatically beleaguered sighs.
“Whataboutyour doctor?” she asked immediately. For some reason, she’d implicitly trusted James and dismissed Margaret’s urging for a physician. “Weren’t we . . . What happened?”
“You fainted dead away. And,” he added gravely, “from what you showed me, I fear you need more than merely a practitioner of the healing arts. Though,” he added with a shake of his head, “I don’t know the path whose destination does not feature your bonny self tied at the stake for witchcraft.”
“Witchcraft!” She pulled her hand from his.
“Hush.” James stood to secure the door. “Aye, hen, witchcraft indeed. And you’ll mind your voice if you don’t want to bring unwanted attention to yourself. I’ve more than a few Lowlanders in my employ, and they’re particularly skittish when it comes to talk of scrying the future, or any other sort of witchery.”
"I’m”—she lowered her tone—"I’m not a . . . a witch.” Magda flopped her head back hard on the pillow. She felt trapped. Relentless panic had ravaged her, leaving her desolate, sapped, her body out of adrenalin. “I told you, I’m not from here.”
“And that is why you thought you were dreaming?”
She merely nodded.
“That would explain your fear. Your confusion.” He stared out the window for a moment, lost in thought. “Aye, to be trapped in a nightmare . . .” he finally said. “A chilling thing indeed.”
She nodded more vehemently.
“But perhaps you’ve merely suffered an injury?”
