Page 43 of Bond of a Bewitched Highlander

Before she could rise, the door swung inward, and a dark-haired lass entered. "I hope I did nay wake you, m'lady." She curtsied. "I'm Flossie, the chambermaid. Oh! Your window is open!" She darted forward, closed and latched it.

"It must have blown open while I was asleep." Elsea gasped. "My voice has returned!" She rubbed her throat, which no longer pained her. "Oh, thank heavens."

This was the first time she'd met Flossie, so she did not know of Elsea's missing voice.

"I'm glad. Are you cold?" Flossie added driftwood to the fire.

"Aye." Elsea stood, found a black woolen cloak on the chair, and wrapped it around her. Whose cloak was this? She'd lost hers in the sea, Brodie had said.

The pain in her head had diminished a bit, but 'twas still uncomfortable.

Flossie, who appeared to be no more than sixteen summers, curtsied again. "Do you have need of anything else?"

"Nay. I thank you." Chills and a cold sweat still covered Elsea from the nightmare. The strange woman in her dream had been so real. Why had she ordered her to go to her brother's? Her father still held Kincreag, did he not?

Oh saints, what if her da had died since her eighteenth birthday? She must ask Brodie forthwith.

"Where is the laird?" Elsea asked.

"Having his nooning meal. A kitchen maid will bring your food."

"Do you remember me? From a few years ago, I mean?"

"Nay. I have only worked here a few months."

"When his lairdship finishes his meal, can you tell him I wish to speak to him?"

Flossie nodded. "I will have the steward ask him."

Another maid with darker hair, who was perhaps in her mid-twenties, entered with a tray of food and set it on the table near the hearth.

"I thank you. How long have you worked here?"

"M'lady?" Her dark brows shot up.

"Do you remember me from a few years ago?"

The maid hesitated, her hazel eyes wide. "Aye."

"Why was I here?"

"Oh, eh. I forgot your ale, m'lady! I'll fetch it forthwith." She bolted out the door, and Flossie followed.

Elsea frowned after them. "What the devil?" They acted terrified of her. What did they not wish to reveal? Why did everyone remember more about her than she did? She had to speak to Brodie. Should she call him Brodie, chief, or m'laird? Most likely the latter.

Too rattled to eat, Elsea paced. Her voice had returned, so why not her memories? She stared out the window at the clouds and misty rain, replaying the nightmare in her mind.

Minutes later, a knock sounded at the door.

"Enter." Elsea was again thankful her voice had returned.

Flossie stepped in, carrying a tankard of ale. "Pray pardon. I'm sorry we are so late with your ale."

"Do not worry over it." Elsea didn't want ale, anyway.

Flossie glanced at the tray. "Are you going to eat, m'lady?"

"Nay. I have a queasy stomach."