How had his dream so closely coincided with the wounds on his body? He laid a hand over the wide scar beneath his ribs, irrationally fearing he might find it to be fresh. Mayhap his nightmare had emerged out of the discomfort he’d felt from the look on Brie’s face when she’d seen them.
He was no’ quite so befuddled as to ken the dream to be real, since he’d died in it. Thankfully, he lay here breathing Brie’s lovely scent and that of her delicious smelling soup. But the entire experience had been unsettling, indeed.
He glanced at his kilt, freshly washed and laid out before the fire. The green and red plaid was identical to those worn by many of the lads who’d fought beside him, in his dream.
“Mac?” Brie urged.
He’s almost forgotten she waited for a response. “There’s no’ much to tell,” he replied cautiously. “ ’Twas a battle with muskets, cannon, and a swarm of Redcoats. And I…died.”
“Ohh!” she cried, her slim brows furrowing. “How awful.” Almost absently, she smoothed a lock of hair from his temple. “It’s probably from the blow to your head. I’m worried you might have a concussion. You should take things easy for a while. No strenuous activity.”
“Aye,” he replied to ease her concern. But the most strenuous thing he’d endured was the dream. “Do ye ken my dream could have any bearing on who I am?”
“I don’t see how,” Brie answered. “Muskets, cannon and Redcoats? That would put your battle at least as far back as the Revolutionary War.” She smiled gently. “You must have read about a similar battle somewhere and that memory is one of the first to surface. That’s actually good news. Maybe it means you’re beginning to remember a few things.”
“Aye. Mayhap.” He prayed she was right. Perhaps ’twas an old family tale he’d felt especially akin to. Mayhap Angus and Alistair were ancestors. But he couldna ken why it felt as ifhe’dbeen Alistair who’d taken that sword and bayonet and died with his closest friend, on that horrific battlefield. Mayhap they were just the wild imaginings of a broken skull. Scars or no’.
“Do you think you could eat some soup, now?” Brie asked. “Or would you rather rest a while longer?”
She’d done so much for him and he’d burdened her enough with his troubles already, he dinna wish to worry her further. He smiled, determined to push the haunting images aside. “I ken I could consume most of a cauldron full.”
Brie laughed and rose to her feet. “Well, then, let’s put your boast to the test.”
Cautiously, he eased off the sofa, mindful to move his head slowly to avoid any dizziness. Gus circled his feet almost before he was fully upright.
“Och! Who is this?” He petted Gus’s head, affectionately. “ ’Tis no’ the dog I met earlier.”
“It’s surprising what a bath can do, for all of us.”
Mac looked about the room. Brie had obviously been busy. In addition to his clean plaid and longshirt, the floor was spotless, as was Gus. She must have bathed as well, since she’d changed her clothes. Her trousers were snug, over long shapely legs, and the new sweater she wore followed her curves the way his hands itched to do.
He indicated his plaid. “Brie, ye dinna need tae go tae so much bother.”
“It was no trouble,” she smiled. “I was glad to do it. But I left your boots for you to take care of. Now, come sit,” she directed, setting bread, butter and a plate of sliced meat on the table. “I hope you like chicken noodle soup.”
“Aye,” he replied. He had no idea what that was but if it tasted half as good as it smelled, ’twould be heavenly.
Brie served the soup and slid onto the bench across from him. “Don’t wait on ceremony,” she prompted. “Dig in. You must be starving.”
He was. And he did. “Och,” he muttered, after downing half a bowl. “ ’Tis truly excellent.” He eagerly anticipated another bowl full.
“I usually turn off the generator after dinner, and just light a candle or use an LED lantern, if I need to,” Brie explained. “I keep my laptop charged with a small solar generator, so I seldom use the big one at night.”
She pointed to the orbs mounted to the walls and hanging overhead in several places. “And if I need more light, I always have the gas lamps my father put in when he bought the cabin.”
She refilled his water glass. “But if there’s anything you want the generator left on for, it’s no problem. I have plenty of fuel to last until I get into town.”
He bit into a piece of bread to give him time to puzzle out what she’d said. ’Twas as if she spoke an entirely different language. Could the blow to his head have caused him to forget so much? He swallowed, realizing she waited for an answer. “Uhh…candles are agreeable.”
Brie smiled. “I think so, too. I love the atmosphere of a blazing fire and a few scented candles. It relaxes me.”
“Aye,” he agreed and tossed the ever-attentive Gus, a chunk of bread.
“You’ll spoil him,” she warned. “He’s already far too attached to you. He’s not going to like it when you leave.”
Her words dampened the contentment he’d begun to feel since shaking off his dream, reminding him he dinna belong here. As far as he knew, he dinna belong anywhere.
“Yer da dinna build the cabin, then?” He tried to drag out the pretense that he was having a normal meal, in a normal home, with a friend.
