Page 36 of Bond of a Bewitched Highlander

He twisted, met her gaze, and thrust his elbow into her. "Give me a sword!" he shouted at his men while pushing the lass down on the floor of the galley. The closest one to him handed over his weapon.

Wilona struggled to lift Brodie, but he wouldn't budge. She had misjudged her strength versus his muscular weight. A hiss of metal and the flash of a blade in the pale light warned her to retreat. She released him and pumped her wings hard to launch into the sky again, his blade narrowly missing her.

Brodie raged below, shouting curses at her.

Infuriated at her own failure and growing tired, she returned to the island. As she flew closer to the beach, an imminent shift bore down upon her. She could not prevent it; she had exerted herself too much. Her naked human form dropped into the shallow, icy surf. When she hit the hard-packed sand, pain ricocheted through her knees and elbows. In misery, she groaned and crawled toward dry land.

"Damn him!" she grated through clenched teeth. She didn't even have the strength to shake a fist at him.

Her powers were not as strong as they had been the year before. Each time one of her curses was broken, her magic weakened.

She pushed to her feet and dragged herself into the cave. After wrapping up in the plaid, she curled up next to the fire still burning in the pit. She hoped Brodie did not return anytime soon, for she must sleep and rebuild her strength. Nay, the lass would keep him occupied for a while. And Wilona would keep the wench ensnared in the forgetting spell as long as possible, but if she lost control of it, Elsea might tell Brodie everything she knew... about Wilona's identity and who was abducting the selkies. If Brodie stopped the earl, 'twas going to destroy her earnings. She couldn't let that happen.

***

SLIDING CLOSER TO ELSEA and putting his arm around her for protection, Brodie peered over his shoulder at the bruised orange sky above. Why the hell had the sea eagle attacked him? The talon scratches on his back burned. Had that been a shifter? It couldn't have been Wilona MacRae, could it? He must send missives to Gavin and Torr to ask their opinions.

Nay, he couldn't. They would feel honor-bound to come and help him. He didn't want them to know Elsea was here, for they, and especially his sister, Cat, would interfere with matchmaking attempts.

He had nay interest in any sort of match, especially with this woman. Though his body remembered the shape of hers as he held her against his side.

He glanced down at her. "Are you well?"

She nodded, looking wary. When would her voice return, and why had she turned mute? The head injury must have caused it.

He would have his answer soon enough, once Finnian examined her.

At first, he'd been annoyed that the old physician had returned to Farspag a few weeks ago, insisting on interfering in Brodie's life by helping him destroy the curse.

This morn, when his clansmen had shown up on the island, Brodie's sword-bearer, Kenneth, had told him Finnian had used the keek stane to see that Brodie needed assistance. And now, hopefully, Finnian could help Elsea with the head injury.

Torr had said Finnian was also an alchemist, an inventor, and maybe even a conjurer. All useful skills, in his estimation.

The giant sea eagle made no more appearances, and their galley reached the shore just below Farspag Tower. After jumping off into the icy shallow sea water, he lifted Elsea and carried her, splashing through the surf to the dry shore. He tried to avoid her bewildered, confused gaze.

The golden dawn light glimmered, burning off the mist, but the wind had not relented.

As he began the climb toward the castle, she pushed at him and tried to wriggle from his arms.

He frowned down at her. "What's wrong? I'll carry you up to the castle."

Looking stubborn, she shook her head.

Sighing, he placed her on her feet. "Alright, have it your way, m'lady."

She had always gotten her way, hadn't she?

The wind whipped with ferocity as they climbed the rough, craggy stone steps his clan had carved out centuries ago in the steep cliff. She only struggled once or twice on the uneven steps. At the top, she breathed hard.

How long since she'd eaten? "Are you hungry?" he asked.

She shook her head, but he didn't believe her, for her eyes held an apprehensive expression. He had always thought her to be a strong woman, and he'd held immense admiration for her... in the past. But now that he knew her boundless capacity for treachery, he admired naught about her. He turned away from the contradiction. The brighter the morning light shone, the more it gored him to look at her deceitful beauty.

Her eyes, once bright azure and sparkling with enthusiasm, had now dimmed to haunted blue-gray resignation. The joyous, smiling lass was gone, and in her place was a confused, anxious woman. Was this caused by the head injury, or was she no longer happy with her other men?

He clenched his teeth. How many men had she lain with by now?

He didn't care. Or at least he shouldn't.