The countess pursed her lips. “It is exactly as I suspected. You are afraid you will never find a decent husband. Well, I admit that you are a challenge, but we are not done fighting yet.”
Sadie looked down at her hands where they were clenched in the coverlet. She consciously opened them and spoke, making sure her voice was composed.
“What if I am done fighting? What if I want to—”
“What? Go back to Scotland and molder away? Do you have a home there?”
“No. I thought to act as my laird’s chatelaine. I would enjoy making his keep the finest in Scotland. And I’d see the clan children as they grow.”
The countess leaned back against one of the canopy posts. “Well,” she said, “never did I think I’d see a Scotswoman admit defeat so easily.” She rolled her eyes. “Chatelaine! That’sa housekeeper with more dust. You could have a home and children of your own!”
“I raised my brothers. I have no need—”
“Pish posh! When you’re mistress of the house, you can hire a woman to do all the dirty work of babies. You have all the fun. It’s vastly different from what you did in Scotland.”
Sadie knew better than to argue, especially since the countess’s words brought up images of Lord Heath’s children. She had no idea what they looked like, but she would bet they had his twinkling eyes and sturdy build. That wasn’t a disaster in a girl child. Indeed, sometimes it was downright necessary.
But they would need the guidance of an equally sturdy woman to make sure they were not ashamed of their looks. They needed a mother who could show them how to have conviction in their minds and fire in their blood. In short, she would teach them to be Scottish, and the thought of Lord Heath’s shocked face if she suggested such a thing made her lips quirk in a smile.
“There now,” the countess said. “I can see that you’re starting to listen. Good. Now tell me about this nightmare.”
She flushed as she looked away.
The lady folded her arms across her chest. “Sadie Allen, you are not a girl to scream over nothing. Tell me about it.”
Sadie felt her face heat as she spoke haltingly. “A gentleman walked me home. He was kind and sweet, for all that he grumbles at me.”
“What is this man’s name?”
“It’s not important—”
“I’ll be the judge of that. Who?”
There was no stopping the woman. “It was Lord Heath, my lady. He was very kind—”
“Until he wasn’t?”
It took a moment before Sadie understood what the countess thought. “Oh no! Lord Heath was a total gentleman! It was the banshee.”
“The what?”
Did the English know nothing? “It’s a spirit. A woman spirit who wails for the betrayed.”
“Did Lord Heath die in your dream? Were you the banshee?”
“No. Well, yes, but I wasn’t the banshee. I was the betrayer. Because I…um…was with him.” She swallowed. “Banshee have no love the English.”
She looked at her hands. She knew it was just a dream, but she’d grown up on tales of banshees, kelpies, and the seelie court. How else was she to keep three brothers entertained at night? And for all that she was a practical woman, the nightmare had shaken her. Banshees were terrifying creatures and one had visited her this night.
One had killed Lord Heath before her eyes.
Meanwhile, the countess’s thoughts were elsewhere. “You and Lord Heath were walking?”
“Yes.”
“Or perhaps something that wasn’t walking?” The countess chuckled. “Sadie, I was young once. I remember certain dreams. And suddenly, I am very interested in Lord Heath.”
“What? No!” Sadie cried, her face heating to an inferno. “You don’t understand! The man hates me. He said I’m not marriageable!” That wasn’t exactly what he’d said, but it amounted to the same thing.
