Tormand bolted upright in bed as a scream shattered the peace of the night. A small foot kicked him hard in the leg and he turned toward Morainn. She was thrashing around on the bed as if she was fighting someone, or someone was hurting her. As he reached for her, tensed for the battle he was about to enter, Tormand thought of yet another reason they had to catch the murderers as quickly as possible. Morainn needed a peaceful night’s sleep, one where nightmares did not have her seeing butchered women or fighting unseen demons in her dreams. He hated to see her so tormented. She should be doing no more at night than making love to him or sleeping sweetly in his arms.
“Wake now, loving,” he said, as he tried to wrestle her down onto the bed and pin her there with his body before she hurt herself or him. “’Tis naught but a dream, Morainn. Only a dream. No one is hurting ye. No need is there to fight. Come back to me, sweet witch. Come back.”
As before, the sound of his voice calmed her and she went still beneath him. Tormand eased his grip on her just a little and watched as her eyes slowly fluttered open. For a brief moment there was only confusion in her eyes, and then she recognized who held her down. Her smile was true and sweet and he felt the power of it deep in his soul. He had the fleeting thought that he would be willing to see that smile every day for the rest of his life, but quickly shook it away.
The smile did not last long. Memories of the horrors she had seen in her dream quickly leeched all the color from her skin and put the glint of fear in her eyes. It had obviously been a very bad dream this time and he moved quickly to fetch her a tankard of cool cider.
Morainn took a deep drink of the cider Tormand served her, as he crawled back into bed at her side. She supposed she should count herself lucky. Four nights had passed since she had had a dream about the killers they could not seem to catch. Unfortunately, this one had been so much worse than the last one, she had to wonder if a respite from the dreams was a good thing or not. Rest only seemed to make the dreams stronger and more frightening.
There were also things she had seen and heard in this dream that she felt it would be wise to keep to herself. Tormand was determined to protect her, to keep her safe from the ones hunting her simply because she was helping him. If he knew she had just dreamed of her own death he would probably lock her up somewhere and encircle her prison with big well-armed men. He would also put himself at risk in his attempts to keep her out of danger and that she could not allow.
“It was bad one,” she said finally, giving in to the need to tell him something as he sat there so patiently watching her.
“Aye, I could see that clear enough.” He put his arm around her and held her close against his side. “Ye looked as if ye were fighting pain or an enemy. Nay just thrashing about as ye did before, but actually struggling against something or someone.”
She dared not look him in the eye for she was certain he would see the truth in hers. He had guessed part of what she had endured while caught in the dream all too correctly and she doubted she could fully hide the shock she felt over that. Morainn could still feel the bindings on her wrists and ankles. The only thing that kept her from curling up beneath the blanket and screaming in terror was the knowledge that her dream did not have to be an accurate foretelling. As for Tormand’s insight into what she may have been dreaming about, she suspected that he gained it from living in a family that had a lot of people with gifts. At the moment she would almost prefer that he did not believe in her gift at all, even scorned her claims of dreams and visions.
“I dreamed there would be another killing verra soon,” she said quietly, hoping she could tell him all the things she had seen that might help them catch those monsters, without telling him exactly who those monsters planned to kill next. She was going to have to dance around the truth very carefully or his suspicions would be raised and he would start pressing her for answers she did not wish to give him. “’Tis as though the madwoman is in a frenzy, as if she has gained a taste for blood, for the pain she can cause, for the power she wields as she decides who will live and who will die.”
“Simon expressed a concern about that happening and I have to believe it might be possible. I fear the mon has seen more than his share of madness and evil, so what he says carries a lot of weight.” Taking her empty tankard from her hand and setting it aside, he wrapped his other arm around her and held her close to his chest. “Such evil must be a torment for ye to see, especially in your dreams. Dreams should be of bonnie things, nay blood and death.”
“Until this stops, I fear mine will all be of the latter kind. And it is a torment to see it, and e’en worse to feel it. But what troubles me most is that it seems as if this woman kens that I am there with her, seeing it all.” She shivered despite being held close to his warmth. “’Tis as if she has somehow climbed into my head.”
“Jesu, do ye think she has some gift as weel?”
“It would certainly explain why she is so elusive. I dinnae ken. Mayhap she does or mayhap my dreams themselves are pulling her in. It has ne’er happened before. I have ne’er heard voices so clearly before than I have since the dreams and visions about this murderous couple began.”
“Mayhap it is the violence, the killing, that makes it so. The emotions ye speak of having felt when ye have seen something are all verra strong ones.”
“True. That might explain why the dreams slowly grow more vivid, but nay how she speaks directly to me, looks right at me, e’en gives me one of her cold, adder’s smiles as she speaks her threats.”
“Ye never told me the bitch had smiled right at ye in a vision.”
“What does it matter? She has threatened me almost from the beginning. I did tell ye of that. The fact that she does so is of no help in finding her. I look for things or something said that will tell us where the killing will occur, who she and her huge companion are, and mayhap even some small hint of where they might be hiding or who they might try to kill next. Those are the things that are important.”
She was right, but Tormand still felt somewhat stung that she had obviously hidden something from him. He sighed and tried again to push aside the fear he felt for her, but was not very successful. The attack on Morainn that had led to her being at his side had shown them that the blood-soaked pair they chased wanted her dead. It served no good purpose to keep repeating that or allowing it to prey too heavily on his mind. All he could do was keep her out of their reach and pray that was good enough.
“So, tell me, were ye shown any faces this time, or told any names, or, e’en better, shown where this next killing will happen and when?”
“Her name is Ada or Anna. Once she spoke it aloud, as if she spoke of someone else, yet it was clear that she was talking about something she had done. I think her madness worsens, although having seen what she does I cannae see how that is possible. Mayhap she is just losing control over it. ’Tis no longer a cold, icy insanity, but has become wild and unfettered. The mon is struggling harder to keep her under control.
“I did see him a wee bit more clearly this time. It was as though the shadows he has always been surrounded by slowly receded for a moment, like clouds parting just a little to let the sun shine through. He is verra, verra big. Tall and bulky with thick muscles. He is still just Small to her though.”
“I am thinking that is but a name to distinguish him from another with the same Christian name, like Young Mary and Old Mary.”
Morainn nodded, idly thinking about how good he smelled. He tasted good, too, she thought, and felt herself blush slightly. They had not been lovers for even a full sennight yet, but she was rapidly turning into a complete wanton. She was always hungry for him.
For a moment she was tempted to try to lure him away from the subject of her dream by seducing him. Then she had to swallow a laugh hastily. She was no seductress, did not have the experience or knowledge even to try to be. It was also wrong to try to divert him in such a way. They were hunting cold, brutal killers. Now was no time to play such games.
“Did ye not see anything to tell ye where the killing might take place or who the victim will be?”
“That was the odd thing,” she murmured, giving in to the urge to stroke his taut stomach as she fixed her mind’s eye on all she had seen in her dream. “This time there was a great deal to be seen as concerns the where. I saw sheep.”
“Sheep? Dearling, Scotland is full of sheep.”
“I ken it.” She rubbed her fingers up and down the soft line of hair that started at his belly hole and led down to his manhood. “There were sheep huddled close to the side of a small house made of stone with a mix of slate and thatch for a roof. It was a rough place with a dirt floor and the cooking fire set in the middle of the floor and a hole in the roof to let the smoke out.” Her wrists burned faintly again as she spoke of the place where her dream-self had been pinned to the floor, her arms and legs tied tightly to stakes driven into the dirt.
“A shieling mayhap, although it sounds a wee bit too large. Mayhap a crofter’s cottage. There are a lot of them about, but only the ones closest to town are important. They need to stay where they can take their victims aside, murder them, and then still get them home and tucked up in their beds ere the sun rises. That would lessen the number we would need to search. And what of the victim? Did ye see anything of her?”
“Ye ken weel that I dinnae ken many people in town, and certainly none of the higher born. E’en if the dreams allowed me a verra clear view of the poor woman I probably wouldnae ken who she was. All I saw was that she wasnae a verra big woman and she had dark hair.” She felt guilty about the lie and even more guilty about how easily she told it.
Tormand nodded as he tried and failed to ignore the way she was touching him. As her long, slender fingers stroked the line of hair on his lower belly, his manhood rose up hard and begging for her to stroke it. She would only have to glance down quickly to see just how eager he was. The blanket draped over his hips did nothing to hide his arousal. Part of him was a little embarrassed by his lack of control around Morainn, while another part just wanted her to see his need and satisfy it.
“I just wish I couldnae hear that icy voice of hers,” Morainn mumbled, distracted by the sight of the large bump in the blanket she could see out of the corner of her eye.
He was aroused by her touch and that made her start to feel that hunger she could never completely shake free of. She told herself to look away, that it was not even dawn yet, but her gaze seem nailed to that rise in the blanket. Morainn thought it strange how her hand almost itched to touch what was shaping the blanket so interestingly. She had yet to touch him there, despite the fact that he touched her everywhere he could.
Morainn watched her hand pause at the edge of the blanket as if it had taken on a life of its own. Thoughts of how she liked looking at that part of him when it was all arrogant and demanding crowded her mind and she most certainly liked the way it made her feel when it was inside of her. Mayhap she would like how it felt. Mayhap Tormand would like to be stroked as intimately as he stroked her.
She blushed at her own thoughts. They demanded a boldness of her that she did not think she had. Even as she wondered if she could be so daring, she slid her hand beneath the blanket and lightly touched him. He was all silky warm hardness, she thought as she curled her hand around his thick erection. The shock she felt at what she was doing faded abruptly when he hissed in breath between his teeth. She recognized that sound. Tormand liked her touch.
Tormand did not dare speak. He was afraid that anything he said might make Morainn cease her caress and that was the last thing he wanted. Since they were new lovers and she had been a virgin, he had not pressed her to do anything more than let him pleasure her. It appeared that she was learning fast, discovering her womanly powers. He certainly hoped so because he spent a lot of time thinking about all the things he wanted to do to her sweet body once her shyness and uncertainty eased.
Her soft, gentle touch began to drive him mad with need. The silence that hung over both of them as he lay there savoring her touch only added to the hunger. It carried the delicious taste of doing something furtive, something one did not want to be caught doing. He did wonder just how long he could hold still and not do something himself.
His control fled in a heartbeat when her small hand slid between his legs and ever so gently squeezed his sack. With a low growl he pulled her into his arms and rolled over so that she was sprawled beneath him. The blush on her cheeks and the uncertainty darkening her eyes would have troubled him if he had not seen the telltale signs that touching him had stirred her passion as well as his.
“I should go and tell Simon what ye have seen,” he said, even as he kissed the soft curves of her breasts.
“There are still a few hours before dawn,” she said, crying out softly in delight when he licked at her hardened nipples with an obvious greed.
“That is good for I am nay leaving until I have loved ye so hard ye cannae move.”
“Ye will weaken ere I do.”
Tormand grinned at her as he dragged his tongue over the warm soft skin between her breasts. “I do love a challenge.”
Tormand forced himself to sit up from where he had been lying boneless and sated at Morainn’s side. He had to be the first to move so that he could claim victory. Although he had always done his best to give his partners pleasure, he had never worked so hard at keeping them teetering on the precipice of delight as he just had with Morainn. While he did still savor her wild cries of pleasure as he had finally given her the release her body screamed for, he had also been nearly blind with the need for release himself. It had been an exercise in control that had sapped his strength.
He glanced at Morainn who was sprawled on her stomach, her face still flushed from the pleasure they had shared and her eyes closed. The only move she had made since they had both shuddered with the force of their climaxes had been to roll over onto her stomach. He was the first to move, but he would be gracious and not loudly declare himself the victor.
It was not until he was buckling on his sword that he sensed her looking at him. He turned to catch her watching him with the one eye that was not pressed against the pillow. She looked like a very well satisfied woman and he felt an urge to preen.
“Ye are leaving now?” she asked in a husky voice that almost had him crawling back into bed with her.
“Aye,” he replied. “I dinnae like how I have to leave ye alone here, but Simon needs to ken what ye saw in the dream.”
“I ken it and I will be fine.”
“Ye ken to hide yourself away if someone wanders too close, aye?”
“Aye, I learned that trick ten years ago. Dinnae worry over me. Go and tell Simon what I saw.”
He opened his mouth to say that he could not help but worry about leaving her alone and unprotected, but the words stuck in his throat. Tormand suddenly realized that he had trained himself to be wary of what he said to a lover, weighing each word carefully so that there was no chance a woman could read a promise or even a hint of caring in his words. He also realized that he did not want to be so guarded around Morainn, but it was going to take time to shake free of that training.
Tormand bent down and kissed her before he started toward the door. “Rest, my sweet. Ye have worked hard and are verra weak. Ye need rest to regain your strength.”
“Hah! I but conceded so that your poor wee male pride wasnae bruised.”
He laughed and hurried away to collect his horse.
Morainn sighed and rolled over onto her back to stare up at the rough board ceiling Simon had had built for this bolt-hole. Her body still thrummed with the pleasure he had given her and she doubted she would be moving from the bed for quite a while. Tormand certainly deserved the claims that he was a great lover. She just wished she could ignore the knowledge of just how he had gained such accolades.
She loved the rutting fool. Nora was right. Morainn had thought that saying she thought she might would somehow shield her heart from the pain she knew would come when he set her aside. It had been a foolish plan. Her heart knew the truth, and that was that it was held firmly in his elegant hand.
Memories, she reminded herself. She would have memories, beautiful pleasure-filled memories. She sighed and closed her eyes. The memories would probably only make her heart hurt more in the end for she would still be all alone.
Tormand looked up when Simon entered the great hall in his modest home looking like he should go back to bed and get some more sleep. Tormand had been sitting in the hall for two hours, reluctant to wake the man too soon. It had given him a lot of time to think and he was not sure he liked the conclusions he had come to. Impatient to talk though he was, he waited patiently as the food was set out for them. To his surprise his equally sleepy-looking kinsmen began to wander in and sit down.
“Have ye all been staying here then?” he asked.
“Nay, just last night as it was verra late and Simon’s was the first house we came to,” said Harcourt, as he began to fill his plate with food. “We all decided we didnae want to ride another yard.”
“Out hunting then?” Tormand heartily wished he could be riding with them on that hunt, instead of hiding away, but he bit back the complaint.
“That and keeping a close watch for anyone trying to creep back to a house with a body.”
“Why are ye here?” asked Simon. “Has something happened?”
“Morainn had another dream,” Tormand replied between bites of food. “She says they grow more vivid.”
“Ah, so she has seen something that might help us.”
Tormand told them all Morainn had told him. Repeating it all aloud instead of just in his head made him feel even more certain of what he had come to believe while sitting in the hall on his own. When he felt anger stir inside of him he firmly told himself that she had not lied to him. She had simply not told him everything and probably because she did not want to worry him. That did not ease his anger by much.
Harcourt groaned. “So it will be back on the horses so that we can ride about looking at shielings and cottages.”
“One with sheep and a roof that is part slate and part thatch,” said Tormand.
“Och, aye, that certainly limits the number,” drawled Bennett.
“I could—” began Tormand.
“Nay,” said Simon. “Ye run enough risk in just coming here. There is also the chance that the killers watch us now, trying to find out where ye have gone. Ye could lead them to Morainn. They badly want her dead.”
“I ken it. The woman tells her so in her dreams. Morainn feels as if the bitch has somehow gotten inside her head.”
“Mayhap she has. We ken little about such gifts. Ye far more than I, but I wager ye dinnae ken everything about them simply because ye dinnae have one. Weel, nay one that gives ye prophetic dreams and visions.”
“Ye really think I have a gift?”
“Oh, aye, ye do. Ye can sense the emotions in a room. Nay always, but it has certainly helped now and again. ’Tis as if ye can smell them in the air.”
Tormand thought about that for a moment, felt a strange urge to deny it despite having displayed the skill before Simon on occasion, and then slowly nodded. “I suspicion I do. I just ne’er thought of it as a true gift. Mostly I thought that my cousin telling me how to strengthen my sense, shall we say, just made a natural skill sharper than most men’s.”
“Nay, ’tis a gift. ’Tis a small one like my father has,” said Harcourt. “He kens when danger approaches. Says it has kept him alive. I can sometimes feel it drawing near as weel. A useful wee gift. Nay as strong a one as the lasses have, but useful.”
“And here I thought ye dragged me along with ye because I was a clever lad,” drawled Tormand, as he grinned at Simon.
Simon grinned back. “Ye are, although I hate to stroke your already considerable vanity by saying so. Ye have a way of looking at things that can also be verra helpful.”
“Nay as helpful as Morainn’s dreams and visions though. She was wondering why ye havenae given her another hairpin.”
“I had thought on it, but then we discovered Edward MacLean and that gave me a trail. It is slowly leading me toward the killers and so I didnae wish to inflict another vision on the lass. Now that I have the name—Ada or Anna—I have an e’en clearer trail. I believe it is Ada, although I cannae quite grasp what memory makes me believe that. I find it difficult to understand how she could have been wed to Edward and yet so few people e’er saw her and I have yet to find one who can recall her name or appearance.” He frowned. “E’en me, and I have always taken great pride in my ability to see clearly, to see everything nay matter how small or apparently insignificant.”
“No one can see everything. Mayhap the fact that no one saw her only fed her madness.”
“Possible. At least we can be fair sure that her huge companion is named Small Ian. The one who told me has always been an accurate source of information. I just wish that Morainn had gotten more information on who will be killed. It is hard to stop a killing when ye dinnae ken who the victim might be.”
Tormand took a deep drink of ale and then said, “I think the victim she saw this time is herself.” He nodded at the shocked looks on the faces of his companions, a shock he fully shared. “She didnae say so, but as I sat here waiting for ye, Simon, I gave a lot of thought to what she did say and how she answered my questions about who the victim was.”
“Evasive was she?”
“Verra much so. After a long explanation about how few people she knew and how she wouldnae recognize the victims e’en if she saw them clearly, what she finally said was that the woman wasnae verra big and she had dark hair.”
Bennett cursed. “It sounds verra much as if she was hiding something. I am surprised ye didnae ken it as ye have always been good at sniffing out a lie.”
“I got distracted.” He ignored the derisive snorts of the men. “She may e’en have done that apurpose, although I cannae really believe that.”
“Nay, nor can I,” said Uilliam. “She isnae a woman who kens how to be so, weel, so—”
“Sneaky?” Tormand said.
“Aye, ’tis as good a word as any. She probably just felt she had given ye the answer ye needed to stop pressing her on the matter and got, er, distracted herself.”
“Being distracted sounds a lot more enjoyable than being stuck on the back of a horse all day,” muttered Rory, and replied to his kinsmen’s derisive remarks with a tart skill that equaled theirs.
It was almost the middle of the afternoon before Tormand was able to leave. Morainn’s dream had been gone over so many times he began to feel he was the one who had had it. Each time he repeated what she had seen and heard details of the other dreams and visions she had suffered through, he realized that Morainn was a very strong woman. She had to be to endure such things. What he wanted, however, was to make sure that these killers were removed from her dreams as soon as possible. Simon’s increasing collection of information had begun to make him feel a hint of hope, but he was still discouraged at the slow pace of their progress. Now that he felt Morainn had dreamed of her own death, he was even more so.
“We will capture them,” Simon said, as he watched Tormand get ready to ride back to the ruined tower house. “We now ken who they are.”
“A big dark mon named Small Ian and a woman no one recalls?”
“A woman and a mon who nay longer have a house to hide in. And, aye, we dinnae have their precise names and dinnae ken exactly what they look like, but we ken enough to recognize them when we see them.”
“Mayhap it would be safer for Morainn if she came back here. More armed men to surround her.”
“She has become your partner in this, Tormand. In the people’s eyes she is the one that has helped ye kill without being seen and keeps ye from the justice ye deserve. It would be as hard to keep her completely safe here as it would be if ye came back.”
“Why do I think someone is using the people’s fury and fear about these murders to get rid of Morainn?”
“Because that is what is happening.” He nodded at Tormand’s look of surprise. “Fair or nay, we can see why the people look at ye with suspicion. Ye kenned every one of the women killed. Even the news of Edward MacLean’s death didnae ease that. The fact that the wife no one recalls is also gone is attributed to ye killing her. Each time the murmurs quiet a little, someone stirs it back up again and Morainn’s name is mentioned more and more. There have e’en been a few whispers about how this is all connected to her being a witch, to some dark magic she is brewing.”
Tormand cursed. “’Tis all idiocy.”
“Aye, but people can become witless when they are afraid and a lot of people are verra afraid right now.” He frowned. “I would like to tell ye that ye are wrong to think she dreamed of her own death, but the more I think on all ye told me, the more I think ye might be right. E’en so, she is safer where she is.”
“At least there she only has to worry about two people wanting her dead instead of a whole cursed town.”
“Exactly. Are ye going to confront her with what ye believe?”
“I dinnae ken. Part of me wishes to, but another part doesnae see any gain in it. She thinks she is protecting me in some way.” He shrugged. “I will see how I feel about it all when I get back to the tower house.”
“Tell me, have ye decided what ye are going to do about Morainn once this is all over?”
“Ye mean if the fool woman is still alive?” He hated to even say the words and the look of knowing amusement that flickered across Simon’s face irritated him. The man knew him too well. “Nay, I havenae. About all I can think of right now is how I should like to spank her fair backside for nay telling me all that she saw.”
“That could prove interesting,” drawled Simon.
Tormand was surprised he could, since his emotions were so tangled and few of those emotions were good or calm ones, but he laughed. Nodding a farewell to Simon, he began his stealthy way out of town, keeping a close watch for anyone following him. The end of this trial was drawing near; he could feel it. He just prayed Morainn would be there to celebrate with him.