Page 40 of The Groom Wore Plaid
“Maggie, your knowledge of kissing has come a long way.”
She ignored his teasing. “Don’t ye see, Owen? Dreams can be just as baffling as science before it’s explained,” she cried. “Ye’ve no problem accepting the word of a scientist ye’ve never met, but ye cannot believe in me.”
She pushed away from him, breathing hard.
“Maggie—”
“Nay, ’tis your turn to listen to me. Maybe ye won’t believe in this either, but ye deserve to know. Something happened while ye were gone.”
“And what was that?” He folded his arms over his chest and regarded her impassively.
“Someone entered my room and left an item in my bed to frighten me.”
She sensed the tension in him as if it were a snake coiled within his skin.
“What was it?” he demanded.
“A talisman, a sort of evil charm. It was a stick carved with backward lettering, a clear symbol of witchcraft. I do not know if they meant to frighten me or implicate me, but ye’re the only one who knows about my . . . talent.”
“And you think I told someone.”
“Of course not,” she said with conviction. “Ye wouldn’t embarrass yourself that way.”
“Embarrass myself? What has that to do with anything? I will always protect what you tell me in confidence. We are betrothed.”
“And someone doesn’t want us to be.”
“Show me the talisman.”
She winced. “And there is the problem. I was so appalled that someone was trying to implicate me as a witch that I tossed it into the fire. I have no proof to show ye, only my word.”
“And I believe you.”
She blinked at him. “Ye do?”
“Why would you invent such a story?”
“I—I wouldn’t,” she agreed, not bothering to hide her surprise. “Do ye think it’s the same person who set the fires?”
“I don’t know. The fires could have been against me and my ascension to the chiefdom.”
“Or because ye betrothed yourself to a McCallum,” she pointed out.
“But this is aimed directly at you.”
She hugged herself. “Aye, but again, it could have been meant to reflect badly on ye.”
He said nothing for a long moment, his head down in thought. “I will ask Mrs. Robertson if anyone was seen lingering outside your door.”
“Don’t tell her about the talisman. The charge of witchcraft—I’ve always feared it.”
She waited for him to tease her, but he only studied her solemnly.
“I never want you to be afraid here,” he said in a husky voice, “and now someone has made you so.”
She shrugged, feeling uncomfortable. “Someone istrying to drive me away. Such a coward seldom acts openly.”
“But you won’t be driven away?” he asked, an eyebrow raised.
