Page 30 of Flanders' Folly
“James is legend in our clan. Or rather, the man who…took him away is legend.”
“I remember.” He settled his arms around her. “Wickham, wasn’t it?”
“That is what they say.”
“I have always wondered how this…Wickham…knew when and where to come.”
She shrugged, her lovely shoulder rubbing against his chest in the doing. “We are told, when anything important or particularly distressing happens to any of us, we are to get word to The Grandfather—the chieftain of the Muir witch clan. Thomas did so after James and his woman were taken away. When Laird Stephan took Bella…” She exhaled carefully and tried again. “Thomas and Torquil wanted to stay, to try to save her, but I insisted they go home, to report it to The Grandfather.”
“And delivering this report was more important than yer life?”
Brigid shook her head. “I knew—I could see it—that they both would be taken and they would share our fate if they tried to free us. So, I sent them away to protect them. I knew my vision would come to be. They couldn’t stop it. But then, the women…they saved me.”
He pulled her head closer so he could kiss her forehead—a personal gesture of gratitude. “So, is there anything ye believe this grandfathercando for ye?”
She shrugged again. “I cannot imagine what. Thomas said only that he wrote about Wickham and James and the woman in the margins of his book.”
“He recorded that James Duncan and Phoebe were taken away…by Wickham.”
“Yes.”
He chuckled. “Well, perhaps James will think it amusing when he reads this book in the future.”
She smiled. “You believe they went to the future?”
“I do. Someday, I’ll explain. Someday, when we’ve run out of things to talk about.”
She smiled and laid her head on his shoulder, and he marveled at how harmoniously their bodies melded together. For a long while, they simply listened to the crackling of the burning wood. And when she spoke again, she didn’t raise her head.
“Flanders?”
“Aye?”
“Do ye suppose the chaos is behind us? Or yet to come.”
“Auch, we're together now. Will it matter?"
* * *
When she beganto fall asleep in his arms, he took pity on her and carried her to the stairwell and to his chamber on the upper level. He’d had his things tucked away and a fire lit. Fresh linens on the bed, a heavy blanket, and someone had placed a cup of wildflowers on the table.
"This is too grand," she protested.
"Nonsense. Ye’re a guest."
She raised an eyebrow. "Is that what I am? A guest?"
He pulled her against him and held her there. She was the dream he’d longed for and the answer to that dream, but he worried he might frighten her if he admitted as much. But neither did he wish her to misunderstand him, which she might if he quibbled.
"Ye're whatever ye wish to be," he said carefully. "Todlawis yers for as long as ye desire it."
She studied him. "And what of its laird? Is he mine as well?"
He could not hide his delight. "Auch, lass, I've been yers since that night in the forest, though I didn't truly know it until I thought ye dead."
“And now that ye know I live?"
He chuckled. "Now…now I think I should catch my tongue in my teeth lest I frighten ye away. Besides, I should promise nothing until Stephan and Heslington are dealt with."
