Page 53 of The Heart of a Highlander
She could hear William calling her name, but he sounded very far away. She clenched her jaw, concentrating. Dark shadows danced around him, deathly shadows. She gasped, her body shaking and worry seeping into every part of her. But that wasn’t all she felt. Shelovedhim. She did. He didn’t deserve her love, and he didn’t want it, so she’d keep it to herself, but it was there in her heart and she had to guide him to keep him safe.
Was the feeling implying he should not go to the island? Sickness coiled within her, and she shoved William away. She fell to her knees, three words pounding in her head:He should go. He should go. He should go.
Then two more words came:Take Grant.
Noise started ringing in her ears, and William crouched before her, blurry and reaching for her. She felt herself falling backward. She screamed, and before she hit the ground, she had another feeling, this time one that told her she had to stay here and stop Brothwell.
Horrified at the sight of Ada in an almost trancelike state and falling, William lunged for her. He caught her by the arms right before her head hit the earth, and he pulled her to him, her body slumping and her head lolling to the side. Black fright gripped him. Was she dead?
He recoiled at the thought and brought a shaking hand under her nose. For a moment, he felt no breath, and the idea that he might have lost her sent panic rioting through him. Then warmth fanned his skin, and he nearly cried out his relief. He just managed to contain it, but the knowledge that he had come to care for Ada despite his best efforts not to, despite his pushing her away, lying to her, and hurting her, twisted icy fear around his heart.
He glanced down at her now-peaceful face, and his chest squeezed. He cared. He cared so much it hurt. He could never show it, and he damn well had to separate himself from her as soon as possible before the caring grew. But not at this moment. Right now she needed him. Trembling, he cradled her unmoving body against his, allowing himself to savor it for a breath—the soft, womanly feel of her against him, her silky hair fanning over his arm.
Grant crouched down by William’s side. “Is she—”
“Nay,” William interrupted, his voice harsher than he’d intended. His concern for Ada had not subsided, and with her in such a weakened state, his need to protect her and touch her only intensified.
“I’m sorry,” he said to Grant as Marjorie kneeled at his other side and gave him a knowing look. Could she see how much he cared for Ada? He turned his head from her scrutiny to find Grant staring at his arm.
“MacLean, ye’re bleeding.”
William glanced at his arm where Ada had grasped him. Her nails had left eight bloody half-moon cuts in his arm. What had she felt? Had she gotten another vision of forthcoming danger? He hated her damned gift. “Ada?” He brushed her hair back from her forehead to stroke it gently. “Ada?” She stirred but did not open her eyes. “Her gift is more like a curse,” he muttered. “I wish she did nae have it at all.”
Behind him, barking resounded, and then Hella and Freya bounded toward them. The relief William felt to see the two hounds made him frown. He resolved to push the hounds away as he had Ada.
William caught Grant’s eye just as Grant said, “Those hounds are uncommonly fast. I’d nae think how quickly they travel possible had I nae seen it.”
“Nor I,” William agreed, stroking Ada’s forehead again. He trailed his finger over the perfect arch of her brow, and his chest jerked.
“What do ye think she sensed?” Marjorie said, her voice tight. “Something about Bram?”
“I dunnae,” William said, “but the sun is setting, and the only hope of getting across the water and to Bram will be in the dark.”
“So we’ll go,” Grant said. “Marjorie will stay with Ada.”
“Nay,” William said. The idea of leaving Ada unprotected clenched his stomach into hard knots. “We’ll take them with us.”
“Dunnae be daft, William,” Grant said. “She’ll be slow and groggy likely, and her and Marjorie’s presence may cause us to lose our chance to save Bram. And the lass said herself that Brothwell was coming. If he reaches us before we can get away…”
Grant did not need to finish his sentence. They’d be outnumbered. They’d likely never escape, and they’d die here. He didn’t fear death, but the thought of Ada falling into Brothwell’s clutches again filled him with murderous rage. She was his.
“William,” Grant said, “ye are letting yer emotions rule yer decisions. Ye must leave her behind if we are to keep all of us safe.”
He looked down at her, her eyes moving rapidly behind her eyelids as if she was dreaming. The words that Esther told him about the gift ran through his head. He had said he did not want Ada’s heart, and he had believed it, but looking down at her now and recalling all they had shared so far, he had the notion that he’d lied to himself. He wanted her heart. The wanting was there, but so was the fear that what she might give today, she could just as easily take away tomorrow.
She jerked then, and her eyes flew open. They locked with his for one moment, and then she said, “The moon will soon disappear from the sky, blanketing the land in near-complete darkness. Swim to the hill, scale it, and follow the path to the cell that overlooks the cliff. Bram will be there. Jump from the cell into the waters far below without fear of death, and then swim back to us to escape. Ye both must go now or none of ye will survive.” He frowned and opened his mouth to question her, but she spoke again before he could. She clutched his arm. “’Tis nae me who will keep King David on the throne. ’Tis Bram.”
