Somehow she managed to paste on a polite smile while glancing briefly over her shoulder to watch Lachlan lead his horse into the woods.
***
Shortly after midnight, Catherine woke from another frightening dream to discover a hand covering her mouth.
Eyes wide, heart pounding like a drum, she realized it was Lachlan. He was using his body to pin her down while she wildly thrashed about.
“Shh, lass, calm yourself,” he whispered into her ear. “You’re dreaming again.”
She could not seem to think clearly enough to form words. Perhaps she had cried out. It was likely that she had. What had happened? She was out of breath now, and perspiring.
Slowly he withdrew his hand, and she lay very still, staring up at him, bewildered and disoriented, while the warmth of his body helped to calm the fires of her anxiety.
He relaxed as she did, and inched back slightly. “Are you all right now?”
She labored to catch her breath. “I think so. Did I wake everyone?”
“No, just me. Luckily it was my turn to be on watch. The others are sleeping on the beach. The sound of the waves would have drowned out the sound of your voice.” He pushed her damp hair away from her face. “Was it like before?”
“Yes. Only this time, I saw a wee bairn. It’s a dream I’ve had before.”
“What sort of dream?” His brow furrowed with concern.
“I saw myself smothering the life out of an infant boy, or attempting to. They were my own hands on the pillow, and it was always the same—blue with white fringe. I could not seem to stop myself, even though I knew it was wrong.”
The features of Lachlan’s face contorted into a frown, and he sat back, recoiling from her. “Whose baby was it?”
“I don’t know.”
Oh, God.Was it her own? Did she have a child? Had she tried to kill it?
The possibility of such a hideous act flooded her mind with horror, and she scrambled away from Lachlan, rising in a flash to her feet.
“Light the candle,” she whispered. “Please hurry.” She could not bear to be in darkness.
He moved to the table, found the flintbox, and struck a flame. A flickering golden light illuminated the tiny shelter.
I am a madwoman…
The unwelcome thought shrieked through her brain.
Or a killer. Perhaps I should run!
Catherine stood in a panic, astonished, and let her hands fall away from her face and drop to her sides. Her eyes darted to the tent flap.
Lachlan held up a hand as if she were a frightened animal in the forest who might spook and dash. “It was just a dream,” he said. “It might be nothing. Maybe it was a vision of something—something that has nothing to do with you. Remember your sister.”
“Raonaid. Yes. She sees the future.”
“Aye, she has a gift. Clearly you have one, too. Maybe what you saw was something else.”
Catherine sucked in great gulps of air. He was suggesting that there might be other explanations for the disturbing images that haunted her sleep. It would be a comfort to believe he was right, but alas, she suspected otherwise.…
“I think I may have done something very wrong,” she said. “I fear I will be caught.”
His voice lowered to a hush. “That’s how they found you, isn’t it? In a farmer’s stable, huddled and shivering in a corner, terrified out of your wits? You wouldn’t let anyone touch you.”
“I was running from something.”
