Page 36 of Highland Fire

“’Tis difficult to explain. I cannae be certain if ’tis something every mon can sense or if my thrice-cursed gift leads me in such matters. I looked at her and I kenned she would cause me more trouble than she was worth. But I proved as susceptible as any mon to a skilled hand and freely offered favors. She was near and she was easy.” He gave her a somewhat guilty smile. “’Tisnae something I am proud of.”

“Weel, ye ne’er tried to claim yourself a saint.”

Jeanne was no longer a threat. Moira realized her pangs of jealousy and her fears were eased by the dismissive way he spoke of the woman. Jeanne had boldly offered Tavig what any virile young man wants, and he took it. Moira did not really like to think of him and Jeanne bedded down together, but the woman no longer made her jealous.

“Nay,” Tavig explained, “I am no saint. If I was, I wouldnae have tried so hard to seduce you.”

“I suppose I ought to be thoroughly ashamed that ye didnae have to work too hard to draw me into your bed.”

“But ye arenae ashamed.”

“Not much, leastwise. It pinches a bit from time to time, but ’tis a weak pinch.”

“Good, for ye have naught to be ashamed of.”

“Ye are the only one who would think so. I am sharing a bed with a mon who isnae my husband.” She quickly put her hand over his mouth when he started to speak. “Dinnae start that mad talk about being destined to wed me.”

Tavig tugged her hand away. “’Tisnae mad talk. I thought ye believed in my sight. I—”

She frowned when he tensed and stared at the wall behind her. “Tavig?” She cried out in surprise when he suddenly leapt from the bed, pulling her along with him. “What is it? What is wrong?”

“Get dressed,” he ordered as he yanked on his clothes. “We must flee.”

Even as she obeyed him, she asked, “Have ye seen something?”

“Nay, curse it. I just ken that we have to leave—now. Hurry, lass.”

“I am dressing as fast as I can,” she muttered as she yanked on her boots. “Should we warn Robert and Mary?”

“Nay, they are in no danger. Curse it to the ground, why doesnae it give me enough time?”

Moira gasped as he drew his sword and faced the front door. She barely had time to blink before several men burst in through the door. Tavig shoved her toward the back door, but that, too, was flung open and blocked by armed men. Moira stayed close to Tavig as he tried to watch both doors and shield her with his body. When Jeanne pushed through the men crowding the front doorway, Moira felt a chill wriggle up her spine. She should have paid more attention to the woman’s threats instead of allowing herself to be distracted by her own fears and jealousies.

“There she is,” Jeanne cried, pointing at Moira. “Look at her. She kenned we were coming for her and prepares to flee. Ask yourself, how could she ken that unless she is just what I say she is?”

“What goes on here?” demanded Robert, tugging on his jerkin even as he stumbled down from the loft, a pale, wide-eyed Mary at his heels. “Are ye people mad? What makes ye burst into my home in the dead of night?”

“We have come to get the witch,” replied a bulky man standing to the right of Jeanne.

“Witch? What are ye babbling about Geordie?”

“Jeanne says the woman is a witch,” Geordie said, advancing a step toward Moira only to hastily retreat when Tavig raised his sword. “Ye need not fear for your life, sir,” he assured Tavig. “We ken ye have been bewitched into abiding with the lass. Ye, too,” he told a gaping Robert.

“That lass is no witch,” yelled Robert. “Ye are allowing yourselves to be fooled by that whore.” He pointed at Jeanne.

“She is a witch,” screamed Jeanne. “I tried to pull Tomas from her evil grip, and she visited her evil upon me. She has afflicted me with a burning rash, and one of my poor goats died, black blood pouring from its mouth. The poor beast wasnae even ill, and I had no marks upon my skin until after she cursed me in the cow shed earlier today.”

“Ye lying whore,” Tavig snapped.

Moira shivered, fear knotting her stomach as she listened to Tavig curse Jeanne, causing the woman to elaborate upon her accusations. Several of the men bellowed their support for Jeanne. There was no escape. Two men kept Robert and Mary captive on the ladder to the loft. Tavig was armed, but could not fight the half dozen men in the cottage. Even if he could defeat them, more huddled outside ready to take their places. It was clear that Tavig intended to fight to protect her, but Moira was coldly certain it would only bring about his death. It was also clear that none of the men was prepared to listen to reason. She knew she had to end the confrontation. She also knew there was only one way to do that, and Tavig was going to be furious.

“I am sorry, Tavig,” she whispered and, swinging the bag he had shoved into her arms just before her accusers had arrived, she knocked the sword from his hands.

Tavig gaped at her then lunged for his sword. Geordie and another man moved faster, quickly pinning him in their hold. Another man rushed forward to grab her. She winced as he roughly yanked her arms behind her back and bound her wrists together.

“What did ye do that for, lass?” Tavig asked, staring at her with a mixture of confusion and fear.

“I ken that ye are a good fighter,” she replied, smiling sadly. “Ye couldnae win against so many, howbeit.”