“I was hoping you could answer that since it’s identical to the one you wear on yer arm. Where did yers come from?”
He didn’t answer right away, but instead trailed a finger over the mark on her palm, setting her skin to tingling as if feathers brushed against it.
“It’s no exactly the same. It’s much smaller.” He looked away, reaching up to scratch at the mark on his arm.
What didsmallerhave to do with anything? And why did it suddenly feel so odd?
“Look!” Isa held up her trembling hand, staring at her palm, watching in fascination as the mark slowly disappeared. “It makes no sense. It’s gone. I scrubbed it in the water, before, and there was no even a smudge. And now...” She let her words trail off.
The mark might be gone but she felt as if hundreds of tiny, invisible creatures covered her skin. Her hand continued to tremble, beyond her ability to control, until Robbie grabbed it, clasping it between his own.
As suddenly as the whole bizarre experience had begun, it now ended.
“It’s no gone. See for yerself.” He turned her palm over and there it was, now on the back of her hand.
“I dinna understand any of this, Robbie.” Certainly she’d seen more than her share of strange occurrences, but this one frightened her.
Robbie half turned from her, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. “We need to talk, Isa. Though I canna explainwhythis has happened, I may have an idea as to the source.”
“And?” she asked even as a hard lump settled in the pit of her stomach. This had the feel of the Fae to it. It must be her mother’s people behind this, but why? Why would they plague her now, just as she’d finally found some measure of happiness?
“It’s long past time I told you how I came to be here.”
“But why would that have any bearing on...”
He held up his hand to stop her words, his head tilted to the side as if listening. “Do you hear that?”
In the distance, a horse approached, its gait slow and unsteady. “That would be Jamie come at last. You should probably finish with yer clothing before he gets here.”
In all the turmoil over her hand, she hadn’t even noticed that Robbie had barely taken the time to wrap his plaid around him, throwing all the excess over his shoulder to trail on the ground before coming to her aid.
“Go on with you. I’ll wait here for him,” she said
He nodded his agreement, his eyes dark and serious. “But after. We still need to have that talk.”
“Aye,” she agreed. “And we will. Now go.”
She watched him walk away, gathering the excess of his plaid into a ball and holding it against his bare chest.
Even in a loosely wrapped plaid that man had the finest backside she’d ever had the pleasure to admire.
With a sigh, she turned her face toward the sound of the approaching horse and headed down the path in that direction. She could see them in the distance now, through the trees. As she’d surmised from the sound, it was the old horse Jamie always rode.
She called out his name and lifted her arm to wave in greeting, but he didn’t respond, though his mount stopped and lifted her head.
Odd, that. As odd as the boy riding all hunched over the horse’s neck that way.
“Jamie?” she called out again. Lifting her skirts and walking more quickly, she accelerated her pace, running until she reached his side.
“No.” Her agonized groan was ripped from deep inside as she pulled the little body down from the old horse’s back. “Jamie? Jamie!” she cried, falling to her knees with the child in her arms.
Blood crusted down the side of his face, the skin that had been smooth and clear now scraped and raw. When his good eye fluttered open, she felt as if her heart might burst.
“Thank God,” she sobbed, rocking him in her lap, pushing his tangled hair away from his face.
No matter what had happened to him, he would recover from it. He had to. In that brief moment she’d thought him already gone she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think.
His whimper snapped her back to reality and she struggled to her feet, stumbling back up the trail toward the cottage, her long skirts catching between her legs as she tried to run.
