Page 17 of The Runaway Bride and the Highlander
But clearly, he was not all right at all. The boy appeared delusional, for his eyes did not meet hers. In fact, he looked beyond her, as though he could not see her at all. Putting her hand upon his forehead, Skylar felt the heat raging from his skin and knew immediately that he was riddled with a fever. Maybe they were too late. Maybe this boy was too ill to be saved. Her heart nearly broke at the thought of it, and a deep feeling overwhelmed her, a feeling that she desperately needed to know his fate.
Leaning forward, Skylar pressed her lips to his forehead. If the boy had a future ahead of him, she would be able to see it. Good or bad, she needed to know.
The woods around her disappeared from her view, and blurry pictures began to form in her mind. The visions were never clear, almost as though there was a thin veil of white in front of them, like a mist of some kind. There was some family in a small, run-down cottage—a mother and what Skylar assumed were siblings, for the children did not look much older than the boy himself. There appeared nothing further though. Those she could see began crying and wailing. Something else came to her, a dark ghostlike figure, but the picture was not clear. Yet, an ominous and terrifying feeling rushed through her entire body.
The message was clear. If they did not help this child, he was surely going to die.
* * *
By the time Maxwell reached Skylar, she was already on her knees, tending to the boy. She had been right after all. Guilt welled up within him for allowing his stubbornness to affect his response and for refusing to listen to her in the first place. But as he drew closer, Bram only a few feet behind, Maxwell frowned at the scene before him.
Skylar held the boy’s head in her hands, her lips pressed against his forehead, frozen in place. Circling them both to try and get her attention, Maxwell was even more taken aback when he noticed Skylar’s eyes had glazed over. A white film now covered the color of her eyes, and she appeared in some sort of trance. The sight of it more than unnerved him.
What the hell is going on?
Stepping forward, he took hold of her shoulder and began to shake her, but a second later, he felt a heavy hand on his own shoulder pulling him back.
“Dinnae touch her, Max,” Bram said urgently. “I’ve heard o’ this kind o’ thing before.”
Stepping back, Maxwell turned and stared at his brother with even deeper confusion. “Ye’ve heard o’ what kind o’ thing? What are ye talking about? What’s happening?” Maxwell gestured fervently toward Skylar and the boy.
“I always thought they were just old wives’ tales, myths that were nae really true,” his brother replied, hardly able to take his eyes off Skylar. “But now, I’m nae so sure.”
“What are ye talking about, man?” Maxwell demanded, beginning to lose his patience and eager for Bram to tell him what he knew.
“There were stories o’ those blessed with magical gifts,” Bram said a little whimsically. “Powers given tae special chosen ones.”
“Ye mean she’s a witch?” Maxwell blurted.
Bram was about to answer, but suddenly, Skylar moved, groaning a little and lifting a hand to her own head. Maxwell and Bram quickly moved to her side and, noticing what appeared to be her weakened state, helped her to her feet.
“I dinnae ken a lot,” she said faintly, “but if we dinnae help this boy now, he’s surely going tae die. We need tae take him with us tae the castle.”
“All right,” Maxwell agreed, this time with no hesitation, unable to tear his eyes off her. While getting the boy help was clearly of importance, Maxwell’s mind now raced as to who or what Skylar Morgan really was.
A flurry of activity burst forth when the men entered the courtyard. Excited greetings were shouted about, and many of those who had been mingling around ran to help with the horses and the baggage they had hauled about with them for the many months they had been gone.
While the boy was hurriedly taken to the castle healer, Maxwell was eager to speak to Skylar alone. She had kept her secrets throughout their entire journey, but he would permit her to keep them no longer. After the astonishing scene he had just witnessed, his mind could do nothing but race with heavy thoughts of doubt.
Have I made a huge error o’ judgement? Is she actually a witch? Is Skylar Morgan going tae bring even more danger tae the clan?
Entering the castle, he took Skylar by the arm.
“I need tae talk tae ye,” he said brusquely.
He was about to continue on when his closest advisor and cousin, Caelan Macleod, hurriedly approached with a broad smile of welcome.
“It is good tae have ye back, Maxwell,” Caelan said, the smile waning as he became more intent on what he had arrived to say. “I have news tae tell ye and—”
“It must wait, Caelan,” Maxwell replied firmly. “Gather the council and inform them that I will speak with them in one hour.”
Seeing the seriousness on his cousin’s face, Caelan did not press his point any further, and nodded in agreement. “Of course.”
As Caelan headed one way, Maxwell continued in the other. He strode down the corridors, Skylar firmly in his grip, until he reached the library's doors. At the very least, he might find some peace in there to talk to her and find the answers he so desperately sought.
Once inside the room, with shelves of dark wood that reached from floor to ceiling and the roaring fire blazing in the huge fireplace, he slammed the door closed and turned to her, glaring in frustration. “Ye have lied tae me, Skylar.”
“I have nae lied tae ye,” she protested, now looking disconcerted at his words.
