She settled on the stone beside his. “Tell me.”
“If events are not changed, the Spanish will sail into the Firth of Forth to provision and regroup, and end by razing Edinburgh.”
“Why would they do that?” Isabel gasped. “Surely Scots and Spaniards are allies—both hate the English enough.”
“The intent will not be war, but tempers will clash, the Spanish commander, Medina, will infuriate my countrymen, soldiers will become drunk and riot. The city will be left a ruin of blood and bones and ashes.”
She shuddered at the images he conjured in her mind. “When will this happen?”
“In two days, the first Spanish ships will moor at Leith. No more than two days more before trouble breaks out.”
Less than four days for them to change the course of a great armada. “I did not know you had such skill in seeing the future.”
“Usually I don’t, but Scotland is bound to my blood.” He drew a rough breath. “I’m glad I seldom see the future. It’s a terrible gift. My attempt to drive the Armada onto the Zeeland shoals might have increased the danger for my countrymen.”
“Don’t think about that!” They could not afford for him to become weakened by guilt. “You already had fears for Edinburgh. Perhaps what you foresee now will be less terrible that what might have happened. We cannot be sure.”
His mouth twisted. “How arrogant we mages are, to think we can make the world better by wielding our powers. Perhaps Britain would be better off without Guardians.”
“It is human nature to seek and use power. At least you Guardians do your best to serve the greater good.” She drew her knees up and looped her arms around them as she had in childhood, her gaze unfocused as she watched the waves roll into chalk cliffs. “I envy you for being raised with others of your kind.”
“It would be difficult to be as alone as you, Isabel. Yet it has made you strong.”
She felt him in her mind, closer than was comfortable. She wanted to slam the doors and hurl him out. Instead, she forced herself to accept his demanding male presence, proud that she could say calmly, “Though the hours are few, there is time enough to eat, and you’ll be stronger for it.”
She investigated the basket. Fresh bread and cheese and ale, all made on her estate. Pulling out her knife, she sliced the bread and cheese, then poured ale into the pewter tankards.
His expression eased as he accepted the food. “You’re a practical woman. That is no bad thing.”
“Someone has to be practical, and usually it will be a woman,” she said tartly.
Macrae’s amusement reverberated within her mind, a surprisingly pleasant effect. As they ate, she cautiously experimented with this unwonted closeness. She could not read his thoughts, and for that she was grateful, but she could sense his emotions with increasing accuracy. As they spoke, his mind shadowed his words with extra richness.
She also could enjoy his ravenous hunger. His startlingly sensual enjoyment of the simple food was so intense that it distracted her from her own meal. As he swallowed the last of his ale, he said, “Sunshine, a fresh breeze, and plain country food. When I was in the Tower, I never thought I would know such simple pleasures again. A pity that my freedom was granted for such a dire reason.”
She stopped herself from saying that he might as well enjoy while he could, only to have him say, “You’re thinking I might as well take pleasure while I can, since my next attempt at weather working might send me to an early grave.”
She flushed and glanced away. “Can you read my thoughts?”
“Only your emotions, but they are clear enough.” He set his empty tankard in the basket. “Now it is time for work. Do you see that dark cloud in the middle distance?”
She shaded her eyes against the bright sky. “Yes.”
“We are going to make it rain.” He laid his large hand over hers. “The thought intrigues and alarms you. Well enough. You will enjoy this, I think.”
And she did. Though his mental powers had not fully recovered from his collapse, his instinctive understanding of wind and cloud was glorious. If he was a hawk, she was now his companion, swooping through the air, feeling the cool damp of the cloud, then disintegrating into a swift shower of raindrops.
She laughed aloud when he drew her back to normal awareness, delighting in the new sensations. “Wonderful! I felt this much more clearly than when we worked together before.” Catching a sense of his sadness, she said more soberly, “But it’s a very small achievement compared to what will be needed.”
Though his face was controlled, she sensed that he was trying to shield her from his doubts. “It is much more than I could have done on my own,” he said. “We are blending our energies well, so far.”
Her pleasure in what they had accomplished faded in the knowledge of how much further they had to go—and that they had only another day to prepare.
They spent the rest of the long day delving into ever deeper levels of intimacy and sharing. The power of Isabel’s mind and spirit amazed Macrae. Her commitment was also profound, but the deeper he probed, the more she resisted.
The last exercise of the day took him for an instant to an area of her emotions he had not yet explored. Raw passion exploded like the devil’s own fire, triggering his own passions—and then she hurled him from her mind with numbing power.
Gasping, he bent and buried his throbbing head in her hands. “You have a kick that would do a stallion proud, Isabel.”
