Page 55 of Highlander’s Curse (The Daughters of the Glen #8)

Thirty-nine

H er body had given up flinching. It simply hurt too much now.

Abby struggled for anything even resembling a deep breath as Jonathan paced in front of her, stopping to lean down where she sat, her back against a tree.

For perhaps the tenth time he screamed at her, ordering her to “Try again!” with his face a mottled purple-red, spittle settling at the corners of his mouth.

“Tried,” she rasped. “Nothing happens.” Maybe it was eleven times. She’d lost count.

When her eyes drifted shut, she could almost will herself into that spot in her mind where the dreams took over.

So close to the place she wanted to be. The dream place where Colin waited.

She’d be safe if she could only run fast enough to reach his arms. He’d catch her up and hold her tight and none of this would hurt her anymore.

“Try again. Say the damn words out loud. There’ll be time enough for rest when you’ve got me back where I belong.”

Her head jarred back against the tree when he slapped her, and a fresh new wave of pain flowed through her body.

Twelve.

“Move away from her, Nuadian.”

Abby forced her eyes open, surprised that her dream place had come to her, but in a bizarre déjà vu sort of way. It was like reliving those moments in the glen.

Colin entered from the trees, just as he had that day, but this time he carried an enormous sword in front of him.

“The only place yer going is to hell, on the end of my sword.”

Just as he had before, Jonathan lifted his arm, aiming the gun he held at Colin.

This was wrong somehow. The words were different and she couldn’t play her part this time. There was no knife for her to use.

“Or will it be on my sword?” Across the clearing, Dair stepped from the trees. “I did promise you’d no seen the last of me.”

Jonathan’s head swiveled in his direction, his arm swinging to aim at the newcomer.

And then, just like in all her other dreams, everything happened at once.

Two shots cracked from the gun, one after another.

Colin’s sword flashed down toward Jonathan, the sun glinting off the blade as if wielded by some avenging warrior out of mythology. Both the gun and Jonathan’s hand fell to the forest floor, bouncing when they hit like a poorly inflated rubber ball.

The air reverberated with his screams until Colin’s blade flashed again. Then there was only silence, and her magnificent dream warrior was at her side, gathering her into his arms.