Page 11

Chapter Ten

R ory meant to pass by the chatelaine’s bed chamber as quickly as he could, but Inga stepped out and nearly collided with him.

“I’m sorry.” She pressed her slim hand against her breast as she gazed up at him. “I need to have the maids light more torches in this passage.”

He would have agreed and continued on, but he saw the wetness on her cheeks, and the faint swelling of her eyelids. “Why did you weep, Chatelaine?”

His voice reached just above a whisper, and stone dust sifted down from the ceiling, reminding him to lower it.

“I spoke of something very sad to Miss Gibson,” she admitted as she raised her hand to wipe away the tears. “Rory, please don’t worry about me. I’m fine.”

He had caught her wrist, and now eased it down by her side before releasing her. “You spoke of Tasgall. You never talk of him to anyone. Why now to her?”

“Unlike me, she’s falling in love with the right man.” Her pretty lips curved. “I forgot how skilled you are at finding out what others hide through their dreams.”

She was the only one who knew about the ability he had concealed from the clan and their vassals, which she had discovered accidentally a few months after she had come into the spell trap.

“If you’re lonely, Chatelaine,” Rory said, forcing out the words, “I suspect Farlan shall welcome you into his bed.”

“Our seneschal is very generous with his affections,” she said. “I only want one man, and he is now forever beyond my reach. Excuse me.”

He watched her go, but as he started on his way to the armory he heard her cry out and whirled around to run after her. In the next passage he found her collapsed on her side, her fingers stretching out toward him before a glassy frost engulfed them and made her go motionless.

“Chatelaine. Inga.” She did not respond to his voice, and when he lifted her in his arms she had grown as stiff as if she had been frozen. Ignoring the bits of shattered stone that rained over his head and shoulders, he ran with her to the infirmary, where he found Ben and Ulf sitting on either side of a cot where Elspeth lay unmoving. “Healer, help her.”

He spoke too loudly, and his voice caused three crocks on the worktable to shatter, spilling their contents.

“Fack me,” he muttered.

Ben came over and took Inga from him, carrying her to the nearest empty table. “She’s been frozen by a Fae enchantment. Did you see a white beetle near her, Rory?”

“A golach,” Ulf said.

He recalled the glimmer of something flying past his face as he’d knelt by the chatelaine. “Mayhap.” He had to pause to keep from speaking too loud, and then asked, “If I kill it, shall that revive her?”

“I don’t know. It’s better not to kill it.” The healer went and picked up a lidded bowl and handed it to him. “Go and see if you can catch the thing. We need to test it to see how it’s doing this to our ladies.”

Rory eyed the chatelaine. He didn’t want to leave her, but if it would help awaken her and Elspeth, he had to. “Keep close watch over her.”

He hurried back to the passage where she had fallen, sending maids and guards skittering out of his path as he did. When he ran he resembled an overly large bull on a rampage, he knew, but all he could think of was Inga’s pale, still face, and the stiffness of her slender body in his arms. Then he saw Ava slowly walking around the spot where the chatelaine had fallen, a torch in her hand.

“My lady, ’tis dangerous here,” he whispered. “You should leave at once.”

“I saw two white bugs fly out of this passage and through a window, and you running off with Inga when I came around the corner.” She handed him the torch and pointed to the floor. “Something froze the stone, too.”

Rory glanced down and saw thin, silvery marks like scratched streaks that glittered on the granite. Rather than touch them he bent and placed his hand over them. The nearness of his flesh made them take on a faint reddish glow.

“Fae magic.” He straightened and regarded Ava. “Which window did the golachs—the beetles—fly through, my lady?”

She led him around the corner and stopped at one of the arrow slits. “This one.”

Rory looked out and saw the line of caldrons where the laundress and her ladies attended to washing. Piles of unwashed garments and linens as well as large buckets of water stood heaped beside the vats, but no fires for boiling the water had been started. Since the weather had been clear and attending to the laundry usually took all day, there should have been a dozen still working.

“Where does the laundress and her girls work inside the stronghold?” Ava asked.

“The seventh tower.” He caught her arm. “If they’re frozen like Inga and Elspeth, we shall need more men to carry them to the infirmary."

She put her fingers to her lips and let out a loud, piercing whistle. When a pair of guards came running, she told them to gather a dozen others and meet them in the seventh tower. She then accompanied Rory there, where they found the door barricaded from the inside.

“They must have been cornered here.” She pointed to the threshold, which had the same scratchy streaks on it as in the passage.

“Stand back, my lady.” When she moved away Rory lifted one foot and kicked in the door, which fell apart as it hit the floor.

Inside the chamber stood the laundress and her maids, the latter huddled behind her. All had been frozen in the exact same way as the chatelaine and head chambermaid, their skin glassed over as if they had been caught in an ice storm. Ava moved the torch she carried around to check the shadowed corners before she went and touched two fingers to the women’s necks .

“They’re all still alive.” She bent and looked at the laundress’s expression, which appeared ferocious, and gently eased a long, sharp dagger out of the woman’s fingers. “She tried to protect her girls.”

“They’re as daughters to her.” He crouched by the hearth and put his head inside, tilting it so he could look inside the chimney. He heard Ava make an odd sound and pulled back, turning to see her trying to free herself from a patch of ice on the floor. “My lady.”

She reached for him, and he seized her, prying her foot from her boot before he fled the room with her. Behind him he heard something like ice cracking and kept running until he and Ava reached the bottom of the tower stairs.

He placed her on her feet. “What did thus to you?”

“It was a beetle made of ice. I saw it crawling toward me, and tried to stomp on it. Then I couldn’t lift my foot again.” She bent down and touched her toes. “I’m still a little numb, but it’s wearing off. If you hadn’t grabbed me I think I’d be frozen like the others. Thank you, Rory.”

“I must block off these stairs to keep the golachs from leaving the tower.” He beckoned to the guards he saw approaching. “One of you take Lady Ava to our lord. The rest of you, help me build a barricade. ”

“Those things are fast. Be careful,” Ava told him before she left.

B odach watched Olivia and Alec McKeran hugging each other, and waited to see if they would progress to something more entertaining to watch. A few moments later the war master left, and the surveyor began unpacking her things, a smile still on her lips.

“You couldn’t just get down to it, could you? Idiot girl. I will have to force things again.” He made a disgusted sound and with a wave of his hand removed the image from his window scroll. “Show me my matriarch.”

The parchment swirled with colors before they flattened out into an image of the tower room where the first enchanted insect had flown. It still sat wedged on the ledge of the arrow slit, but it had grown to a monstrous size. Its icy body had reached the stones on either side, which now looked cracked. It bulged, growing a little larger as a duplicate of itself emerged from its back, separated itself, and then flew off.

“You’re working so hard for me, my frigid friend.” He rubbed his thumb over the image of the matriarch beetle.

A sound from above made Bodach return upstairs. From behind the illusion that covered the landing he saw one of the police officers who had been with Jack Riley, this time in civilian clothing. He carried a flashlight in one hand and a pistol in the other, and looked around as if expecting to be attacked. A few mortals with strong wills had an annoying ability to resist his magic, and this one could be that sort—or something else entirely.

“Why are you here?” Bodach asked, enjoying the way the ghostly echo of his voice made the cop jump.

“Step out where I can see you,” the mortal ordered.

When his back was turned Bodach walked through the illusion, striding quickly up to the cop and disarming him easily. The gun went skittering into the shadows as the mortal turned and tried to hit him with the flashlight.

“Really? You are that much of an idiot?” Bodach said after swatting away the light, grabbing him by the throat and walking him back to slam him against the nearest wall. “Why did you return? Are you one of those irritating do-gooder types?”

The cop made a strangled sound, but when he eased his grip he gasped out, “I can help you. Give you protection.”

Surprised, Bodach released him. “Why would you do that?” He glared at the cop. “If this is about that stunted little mortal female–”

“I’m unwanted, like you.” The mortal rubbed his throat. “My master left me here to rot.”

He stretched out his hand to dispel the glamor that shielded the cop’s true appearance, and when it fell he smirked. “Ah, you’re a changeling. Not a very pretty one, either. Tell me your true name.”

“Clagden.” The tall, spindly-limbed Fae bared his jagged teeth. “The mortal I replaced now lives in Elphyne in complete luxury, coddled and protected by my master, while I have had to scratch out a place for myself here in this stupid skin. What did you do with that girl?”

“None of your business.” Bodach walked around him as his glamour encased him, inspecting his guise. It was rather good; enough to fool even him at a casual distance. “Why do you care?”

“I’d like a little time with her.” Clagden’s expression turned famished.

Such hunger meant he did something with females to either feed or amuse himself, another dark Fae trait. But which order did he belong to? “Are you really employed as a cop? ”

“Yes. Criminals can give me what I need through their dreams, and no one cares if they die in their sleep. I’ve used so many in the past there’s an entire prison cemetery filled with their corpses.” The changeling grinned at him. “If you will take me as your servant, I swear that I shall serve you faithfully. All I ask is a turn with the females you use.”

That told him all he needed to know about the exiled Fae. “You’re a phobos goblin. You wield nightmares so you can eat the fear of the slumbering.”

“And you would starve me,” Clagden said, nodding.

Bodach tried to avoid other dark Fae exiles in the mortal realm, and he knew better than to trust the goblin. At the same time, having a servant from whom he didn’t need to hide his true identity would be rather useful. The fact that Clagden served in law enforcement might even aid him with better protecting the castle until he could retrieve his treasure.

“Very well.” He reached out to grip the goblin’s throat, cutting off his air for a few moments before he allowed him to breathe again. “As long as you serve me well, I’ll allow you time with the mortals you wish to terrify into your food.” He leaned closer. “Betray me, and I’ll personally dine on your worthless flesh. Raw.” He released him .

Clagden dropped down on one knee and kissed the hand he held out. “Yes, Master.”

“Get up and come with me,” Bodach told him. “We have work to do.”

A lec left Olivia to settle in and went to retrieve some bed linens from the nearest storage room. Inside he found a small group of maids huddled around a lamp and whispering. They all fell silent and cowered when he stepped inside, as if they feared he’d attack them.

“I’m no’ the MacBren or his brutes,” he said. “What do you here?”

“Forgive us, War Master,” Una, one of the kitchen maids, said as she and the others curtseyed. She pushed some hair that had escaped from her lace cap, which made her bodice strain over her large breasts. “We but wish to hide from the lockjaw plague.”

“’Tis no such thing.” When none of them responded, he sighed. “If you mean what Elspeth fell sick with, ’tis no’ lockjaw. Something attacked and bespelled her.”

“You cannae be sure.” Una moved closer, which made the hem of her skirts brush against his boots. “ None saw what ’twas done to her. We’ve seen no sign of an enchanted beast.”

“Elspeth’s a foreigner,” one of the other maids said. “Mayhap she brought the sickness from those savage lands from whence she came.”

“The lass’s màthair birthed her in Scotland, just as yours did you.” He saw doubt flicker over their faces, and added, “Cruel gossip shall only panic others. In times of trouble, you should aid and protect each other, as does the clan.” He took down the linens from a shelf before he walked out, and then glanced back at them. “Your duties shallnae see to themselves. Get on with you.”

The maids hurried out and scattered in different directions. Only Una lingered, watching him with greedy eyes.

“Need you help making up a bed, War Master?” she asked, and used her arms to push together her breasts in what she doubtless considered a provocative manner.

So often had he tolerated such overtures he hardly noticed them anymore. Only now he imagined what Olivia would have to endure as the male vassals and outsiders strutted about during the final week before the binding ceremony. Would the scullery lads lay in wait for her so they might walk out and pretend to brush up against her? Should he tell them if they did he’d beat them senseless?

“I’d be happy to do anything for you,” Una was saying, her lashes fluttering coyly.

“I dinnae need help of any sort from you,” Alec told her. “Get back to work.”

On the way back to his chamber he dismissed the maid’s clumsy attempt at seduction and instead brooded on how many other vassals had taken to hiding themselves from an imaginary plague. Although everyone well knew they could not grow sick in the spell trap, gossip fueled fears that overwhelmed common sense. He would have to speak to Farlan about the maids and their foolish notions.

As he walked into the bed chamber Alec expected to see Olivia putting away her things, but she didn’t appear to be anywhere. Had she left already? Then a whimper came from behind the box bed, and he dropped the linens and hurried over. There on the ticking he’d wedged between the wall and the bed lay Olivia, all curled up. For a terrible moment he thought she might have been attacked and frozen like the chambermaid, but then she turned toward him and made a soft sound of distress.

Carefully Alec knelt down and crawled onto the thin ticking, stretching out beside her. She immediately reached for him, her hands clutching at his tunic, yet she didn’t wake.

“You’re safe now, lass,” he told her. “I’m here with you. Naught shall harm you as long as I draw breath.”

The trap had her in its thrall, he realized. Often outsiders had no idea of how vivid dreams could become here, thanks to a strange effect of the enchantment. A few had lain senseless for several days, so caught up in their dreams that they could not awaken until someone put a vial with salt of hartshorn under their nose.

“Hurry,” Olivia whispered, still asleep.

He gathered her against him, stroking her arms and back with his hands and making low, gentle soothing noises. Soon her shivering stopped, and she nestled closer, her fingers still tightly gripping hold of him. That in turn calmed him, as if their moods had become somehow linked. He could not fathom how she had such sway over him, or why, but he was grateful. She had become his glen of quiet and peace in this ever-aggravating world, and he regretted leaving her alone for even a moment.

I regret I didnae strangle you the moment you came squalling out of that trollop I once named daughter. I may yet, while you sleep.

Triggering the memory of yet another vicious threat hurled at him in boyhood made Alec’s belly sour. Too many remained locked in his head, for he’d never been able to forget the old man who had made his early life such a misery. Indeed, every word that had come out of his grandsire’s mouth danced on the edges of his thoughts, ever ready to torment him a second, third, or hundredth time. Although the old bastart had been dead now for centuries, Alec still found himself expecting a hard blow every time he awoke.

Olivia murmured something and slid her hand up against his neck, her fingers caressing.

“Make me forget, dreòlan .” Alec closed his eyes, breathing in the soft sweet scent of her until all the tension drained from his limbs. “Take me away from the cares and worries of this place. Be with me somewhere ’tis only us.”

O livia knew she shouldn’t have looked through Alec’s things, but when she found the weapons he’d hidden all over the room her eyes stung. He had concealed so many knives that he could reach one no matter where he stood. She didn’t move or take anything as she went over to sit on the bed he’d brought in for her .

What kind of childhood had he endured that he would want a blade always within reach?

She lay back, thinking about the times he had held her in his arms. Then, too, she had detected what she had assumed were straps under his sleeves and across his back and chest. Now she wondered if he had dozens of blades strapped to his body under his clothes, and what it must have been like for him to only be comfortable that way.

Someone had hurt him badly. Someone like Mae, maybe even worse.

Olivia rolled over and glanced down at Alec’s ticking. She suspected he would sleep even with it jammed into such a small space. Slowly she climbed off the bed and lay on the ticking. He’d left his woodsy scent on the wool blanket and pillow he used, and closing her eyes to relish it had made her too drowsy. She struggled to stay awake, but the next thing she knew she was standing on a short step ladder by the sink in Mae’s cottage.

She’d come back to that terrible summer day again. Would she ever stop having this nightmare?

Hurry. She’ll be home soon. Hurry.

It seemed much worse this time. Her eight-year-old self kept frantically scrubbing at the plates, washing them over and over with the dishcloth. If she left even a speck of food on anything her aunt would punish her again. The long-sleeved, ankle-length green dress she wore was uncomfortable, like all of her clothes, but Mae always insisted she wear them even on the hottest days. At least her work was nearly done; she had already scrubbed the counters and mopped the kitchen floor. After she finished the dishes she planned to write a book report on the discourse essays her aunt had given her to study. She didn’t glance at the padlocked cabinets or fridge as she placed the last plate in the drying rack, for she wouldn’t be able to eat again until after her aunt came home. The hollowness in her stomach wasn’t too bad today; if it got worse she would drink some water out of the bathroom tap until it filled her belly.

Run away. Hide in the bedroom.

No matter what she thought to herself, the little girl kept working. Mae might come home unexpectedly on her lunch break to check on her—she did that on random days to try and catch her being idle—and that would mean as harsh a punishment as she might get for not finishing her work. Little Olivia jumped when she heard something rapping on glass, and someone calling to her from outside.

Don’t do anything, she thought to her younger self. Don’t be afraid. He can’t get inside to hurt you.

Ooooh-leeeev-eeee-aaaah.

Through the kitchen window she could see the pasty, sweaty face of a man who lived at the other end of the block. Large and plump, he wore horn-rimmed glasses and had such a terrible case of dandruff that flaking skin speckled his thick brown eyebrows. It was the third time this month he had come to the house while her aunt was at work, and she didn’t understand why. As she ran from the kitchen to her room, her chest grew tight and she began to shake. Mae sometimes skipped her lunch break so she could leave work early. If she saw that man outside the cottage–

Olivia. I know you’re in there. Open the back door.

She climbed into her bed and pulled the blanket over herself as she curled up into a ball. Even when she pressed her palms over her ears she could still hear him. He always said the same things.

You need someone to look out for you.

I’ll be like a father to you, little girl.

I’ll love you in a very special way.

After what seemed like forever the man stopped calling to her, and she got out of bed to go back to the kitchen and dry the dishes. As soon as she opened the door, the man jumped in front of her with his pudgy hands outstretched.

Got you!

As she screamed a boy suddenly appeared between them, shielding her with his terribly thin body while he hit the man with a long, hooked stick. Olivia’s eyes widened as she saw the man’s bleeding face change and grow black while his nose and mouth merged together and grew out into a dark beak. Black feathers sprouted from his skin as he began to shrink in on himself, until he turned into a large, fat crow. The bird screeched at her before it flew off, leaving her alone with the boy.

Thank you for saving me. She nearly shrieked as he turned, his beautiful face only too familiar despite a swollen nose and one black eye. Alec?

’Tis me. He took hold of her hands, his own grimy and covered with bruises. We’re dreaming together in my chamber, but we must awaken.

I can’t. You don’t understand. She pulled free and hurried back into the kitchen, where all the dishes she had washed now lay piled in the sink, still dirty. I have to finish these before my aunt comes home, or she’ll punish me.

She began washing the plates, but for each one she scrubbed clean two more appeared in the sink. The pile grew so high it began teetering, and then fell onto the floor, exploding into shards of ice that pelted her hands, arms and face. As her knees gave out Alec grabbed her and pulled her against his chest, his hand cradling the back of her head.

Dreams in the spell trap seem as real as when you’re awake, he told her. ’Tis part of the curse on us. You can become trapped here if you dinnae rouse yourself.

Who are you, boy? Mae came into the kitchen, her face so mottled with rage she looked as if someone had painted her face reddish-purple. What have you done with this little tramp?

Alec stared at her, aghast. You’re the one who starved Olivia.

The brat is my responsibility, one I’ve never shirked. I gave up my life so she could live. Her aunt’s expression grew cunning. Now she has to earn her way, just like everyone else in the world.

He made a disgusted sound. She’s only a bairn.

Did you touch her? Mae strode up to him. Did you do that nasty thing with her?

He protected me. Now it was Olivia’s turn to step in front of Alec and shield him, and when her aunt lifted a fist she didn’t even flinch. You never did. You left me here alone, where anyone could have broken into the house and hurt me. Like that man tried to do that day.

You tempted him to come to you, Mae shrieked. You used your evil wiles to lure that man to my home. You got that from your devil father. Now I find you with this filthy little beast. What have the two of you been doing behind my back?

A sense of serenity came over her, and she smiled at her enraged aunt. We’ve kissed and hugged. We even slept together in the same bed. I’m going to do whatever he wants, and you can’t stop it. You can’t lock me up and starve me anymore. You’re dead, and you’ll never be able to hurt me again.

Her aunt stumbled in reverse until she left through the cottage’s back door, which slammed shut. All the broken dishes then reassembled themselves as if smashing in reverse, and vanished. A moment later so did the cottage. Her eight-year-old self was left standing in the dark with the younger version of Alec, who appeared relieved.

I’m sorry about Aunt Mae. Olivia reached out to take hold of his hand. She hated me because I ruined her life. She couldn’t take responsibility for what she did, so she blamed me.

A forest of oaks, pines and evergreens grew up around Olivia, as fragrant as Alec’s own body scent. Thick, soft-looking beds of moss spread out under her feet. Thin beams of sunlight pierced the tree canopy and lit the air around her, through which tiny bits of dandelion fluff floated. It seemed like the woods outside Dun Talamh, but they were only an illusion. This place looked even more real than she did.

Did you mean what you said to her? That you shall do whatever I desire of you?

Olivia turned around, trying to see where Alec was now. Instead of that horribly thin, battered boy he had been, he stepped out of the shadows looking so handsome, so utterly perfect that she reached out to be sure she could touch him.

Yes. I meant it. I want to be with you.

Alec tugged her into his arms, sweeping one hand up her spine to tangle his fingers in her hair. When she tipped her head back to look at him his beauty made her gasp, and she closed her eyes as he bent his head. He stopped just short of kissing her, however.

I wish to show you what I desire. Look.

When Olivia opened her eyes she saw walls of polished silver surrounding them, and on each one there was an image of her and the war master. She wasn’t quite herself in the reflections; she had different eyes, and freckles on her face. She wore her hair in long braids that came undone as she knelt naked before Alec.

I’m yours, War Master, the reflections said in Olivia’s voice . Do with me what you wish.

The image of Alec reached into his trews and pulled out his penis, which he gripped as he watched her. The freckled Olivia then took him in her hand and began to stroke him.

I shall do whatever you desire, War Master. I wish to please you. Tell me.

Olivia wondered if this was what he wanted, a dream within a dream. Slowly she looked down at herself as her own clothes vanished, and knew she had to make a choice. She didn’t even hesitate as she knelt down before him.

I meant what I said, she told him, putting her hand on his shaft the way the reflections had, and guiding his broad cockhead to her lips. Taking him into her mouth was the most intimate thing she’d ever done for a man in her life, but here she was, ready to suck Alec McKeran’s cock as if she had been born only for that purpose. You don’t have to show me anything. I want you, the real you.

Are you certain? He thrust gently, making his thick girth glide in and out of her lips. I want to own you, wench. You shall be mine and mine alone.

This was his dream, Olivia realized, and some sort of test. If that’s what you want, then own me.

Making love to him with her mouth was slow, sensual torture. She discovered she loved the weight and thickness of him pushing in and out of her mouth, the earthy scent that came with every thrust, and the subtle changes in his body as pleasure suffused him. He swelled even larger when she tugged on him, eager and greedy to taste his cream.

Suddenly Alec pushed her back onto the mossy forest floor, the trees closing in around them as he knelt over her and put her hand under his on his shaft, and his other hand between her thighs. He rubbed her throbbing clit as he stroked her hand over his pulsing cock, and together they climaxed. As she arched under him, impaled by his long fingers and rubbed to mind-blowing delight by his thumb, white spurts of his seed painted her breasts and belly.

’Tis time to wake, lass.

Olivia opened her eyes to see the rafters of Alec’s room. The weight of his arm lay across her hip, her skirt yanked up around her waist, and his hand was cupping her drenched pussy. From the slowly fading throbbing there she knew the orgasm she’d had in the dream had been quite real. She had her hand inside his trews, and when she slipped it out the slick fluids on her fingers told her he’d also reached his peak. When she turned her head she saw him watching her, his eyes sleepy.

It seemed perfectly natural to turn toward him and tuck her face against his neck. “Are you okay?”

“Aye.” He splayed his hand over the small of her back. “That woman in the dream, she’s your aunt? The one who locked you away?”

Olivia didn’t want to tell him—she’d never told anyone but her therapist—but he’d seen what her childhood had been like.

“She was my biological mother, not my aunt,” she said slowly. “I found out the truth after she died. She was seventeen when she became pregnant with me. She never told the boy who was my father, or anyone who might have helped her. Instead, she took some money from her parents, ran away from home and raised me by herself. Her name wasn’t even Mae Gibson. It was McKell Gardner.”

“Everything I saw, ’twas as she did to you.” Alec wasn’t asking.

Olivia drew back and plucked idly at the end of one of his tunic laces. “Not everything in the dream was real. Like what we did at the end, that was...very sexy, but we didn’t actually do that.”

“Mayhap,” he said, stroking her arm. “Why do you speak so gently of your aunt? Instead of caring for you, she terrified and starved you, lass.”

“I went to see a doctor after Mae died who helped me understand why she treated me so badly. Her sickness was probably rooted in her own upbringing. An illness some new mothers suffer called postpartum depression may have made things worse. She may have wanted to blame someone else for the choices she made.” She met his gaze. “Since I was the result of them, she took out her anger and distress on me.”

Alec kissed her brow. “’Twas never your fault, Olivia.”

“I know.” Her lips began tingling, as if hinting they wanted to be next in line for kissing; even better if they could relive the end of that shared dream. “Mae couldn’t bring herself to get some help, but shame and self-loathing was also part of her illness. I’ve accepted that she was a very sick woman.”

His eyes darkened. “Yet you still dream of that house, and her.”

“She was a nightmare that lasted for seventeen years.” It was always hard to admit that, as it made tears burn in her eyes. “But I spent too much of my life living in fear of her. I want to be free now, Alec. That’s all. Everything I’ve done since she died is to find my own way in the world, and what happiness I can have.”

“Such led you to me and mine, and the curse that imprisons you with us.” He looked sad now. “You’ve been made a prisoner again.”

“No. I fell into a wonderland, where I found you.” She touched his mouth with her fingertips. “You and this terrible bed.”

He took her hand away, pushing his fingers into her hair as he put his mouth to hers. The kiss, if it could be called that, came as light as a sigh across her lips, and made her tilt her head back against his palm.

“If you’re going to kiss me, I won’t hold back, and neither will you. I would really like to know more about the woman of your dreams, too. Then we will miss dinner, and probably a few other meals.” As much as Olivia wanted to do this, she knew others needed him now. “You have to find whatever hurt Elspeth, because it will attack someone else. I want to help.”

A horn sounded from outside the castle, making Alec stiffen.

“’Tis too early for the MacBren.” He helped her to her feet. “Bolt yourself in here.”

“Ava said all females are supposed to meet in the great hall when we hear that horn,” she countered. “I promised her I would.”

“Och, that woman.” His mouth flattened, but he held out his hand. “Very well. I’ll take you there.”