Written in 20 minutes.

---

It took Elizabeth a beat before she realized that the man who had cried “Witch!” was not precisely pointing at her — but at the woman three feet away from Elizabeth. With a growl, Jason shoved Elizabeth behind him as others in the marketplace fled.

“We’re not going to leave her, are we?” Elizabeth asked, her voice high, nearly shrill. She flinched as two men with the witchfinder seized the older woman who cried out in pain. “Jason—”

Jason hesitated, then met her eyes. “Don’t get separated,” he warned her. “The crowd could turn—”

“But—”

“What’s the charge?” Jason demanded, striding forward, keeping his grasp on Elizabeth’s elbow right.

“Who are you to ask?” the man retorted, his cheeks flushing. He yanked on the woman’s arm. “I am the Witchfinder in this district—”

“There’s no such thing,” Jason said with some disgust. He flicked his eyes to one of the men standing with the so-called Witchfinder. “You. Malcolm Scorpio. I know you.”

“Aye, Laird,” the man grunted. He flicked his eyes to the angry young man. “Peter August, ‘tis Laird Jason Morgan of Braegarie.”

Peter August’s lips thinned as he narrowed his eyes. “Laird Morgan,” he repeated. “You live up in the hills. I don’t expect you to know our customs—”

“My people keep Perth clothed in wool and swimming in whiskey,” Jason retorted. “I know well the customs, and taking up women as witches with no evidence is not one of them. I will ask you one more time. What is the charge?”

“Ava Jerome,” the third man with them said, “has been accused of giving the evil eye to to Eleanor Benson—”

“I never!” the woman screeched. “That filthy—”

“The evil eye,” Jason said. He lifted one brow. “And how will you be proving that?”

“I—” Peter August lifted his chin. “I don’t need to prove it—the claim has been made—”

Jason looked at the other men. “Malcolm, I know you and your brother to be honest and honorable men. You want to see this woman burned at the stake when your so-called witch finder has nothing to say?”

“How exactly did she give Eleanor the evil eye?” Robert asked, narrowing his eyes. “Mac, I thought he had the evidence—”

“He said—” Mac released the woman—Ava—with a dark look. “You said you had proof—”

“My word is enough proof—” Peter sensed the crowd was not turning to Ava — but to him. He swallowed hard. “I am a man. She is an unmarried woman who takes in boarders—she—” He ducked as someone threw a a tomato at him. More fruits and vegetables followed as the young man took off down an alley.

Ava Jerome straightened her her sleeves. “I thank you for your intervention, my laird. How I can I repay you?” she asked Jason with a fluttering of her eyelashes. Elizabeth, who had taken in the scene with wide and worried eyes, narrowed them now as she stepped out from behind her husband.

“Thank my wife,” Jason said, stepping back, gripping Elizabeth’s elbow again.

“Mistress,” Ava murmured.

“Can we go now?” Elizabeth asked, her heart still pounding, one eye on the alley where the witch finder had disappeared.

“Aye, let’s return to the inn.” He turned and steered her back towards the center of town. “I’m sorry,” he said with a sigh. “I had hoped the townspeople were past this, but it can take a few years for the crazy to settle down.”

“It only comes back,” Elizabeth murmured. “Do you—” SHe bit her lip. “Do you believe in witches?”

“No,” Jason said with a shake of his head as they stepped back into the common room of the inn. “And even if I did, the punishment—” He grimaced. “Far outstrips the crime.” Jason frowned, tilting his head. “I know what you saw as a child upset you, but you know I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”

“I—” Elizabeth glanced out the tavern windows, looking over the high street. “I think I can believe that,” she said slowly, “but—” She stopped, then met his eyes again. “It’s difficult to explain.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Jason said, with an encouraging nod. Could she tell him? Would he think differently of her if he knew? He’d stepped in for a woman he didn’t know. Would he accept her strange ability? Might he even find a value in it?

Still unsure, she opened her mouth to respond, but then the door opened again and Johnny and Francis entered, breaking the moment. Elizabeth pressed her lips together, smiled at Jason, then turned her attention to the warriors —

Missing Jason’s look of concern and worry as she looked away from him.

Written in 56 minutes. Did a spell check, but did not reread for typos.

---

After they ate supper at the inn, Elizabeth insisted they go to the bonfire in the town square even though Jason thought it might upset her further.

He didn’t know her that well, this woman he’d taken to wife only days ago, but he thought he’d learned enough to realize that whatever terrible burning she’d seen as a child was twisted up in her relationship with her father—

And that brought him back to the moment in the common room when she’d opened her mouth as if to say something important—and Johnny and Francis had arrived. She slipped away, and whatever she’d planned to say had gone with her.

“We don’t have to stay long,” he told her, bracing her elbow as she stepped over some uneven stones on the cobbled streets. The small, close streets of Perth were lit with the torches on the on buildings and ones carried by the towns people as they came to the square where the larger fire sat.

“I’m all right,” she insisted. “It was…upsetting today, but it’s over. And tomorrow, we’ll continue north.” Elizabeth smiled. “Will you tell me more about Braegarie? And the people? I—I would like to be ready.”

Ready. He furrowed his brow, nearly ready to answer, when they stepped into the square and the bonfire was in front of them.

Johnny and Francis were several people behind the laid and his new wife, and Francis scowled at Johnny who was glaring at the back of Elizabeth’s head. “I thought you said you were done with this.”

“I am,” Johnny muttered. “But ‘tis something strange about how afraid she is of the witch hunters. She’s a Morgan. And Jason is the most powerful laird in the region. No one is coming after her.” He paused. “Maybe the witch she saw burned as a child was related to her.”

Francis squinted. “Huh.”

“A witch in the family—Jason would be able to set her aside—“

“You don’t believe in witches—“

“Not the ones that get burned, no,” Johnny muttered. “But I believe in stupid people who think any woman who breaks the rules is a witch. You think that’s the secret?”

“Mayhap.” Francis shrugged. “Can you live with that?”

“Aye. If that’s the secret.”

——

“You asked me about Braegarie.”

Jason’s voice was quiet in the darkness of their room at the inn, the candle having burned down to the tallow. Elizabeth had been drifting into a light sleep, comfortable and warm, feeling safe and happy with the man in her bed.

“I did.”

“You will be happy there.”

Elizabeth closed her eyes again, smiling as she tucked her chin into the crook of his neck and his arm tightened around her waist, drawing her more closely into his side. “Aye,” she murmured.

“I will make sure of it.”

And he would. She could feel it radiating from him. Whatever secrets he thought she was hiding, whatever thin layer of distrust she’d sensed from him in the days since their marriage, he’d put them away. Jason had decided to accept her into his life.

“Elizabeth?”

“Mmm?” her voice was barely above a whisper as she hovered between dreams and sleep.

“I promise you.”

“I know,” she sighed, as she slid beneath that final layer. “You never break a promise. No matter what your sister told you.” And then she fell asleep.

And Jason opened his eyes, frowned, and looked down at the tousled hair of his wife with confusion. Had Francis or Johnny told her about the last time he’d seen Emily? Determined to interrogate the idiots in the morning, he closed his eyes and followed his wife into slumber.

—

Jason had cautioned Elizabeth that the trail would grow harder after Perth—and she knew he was planning to pick up the pace slightly, but she assured him that she was ready for it. She could ride longer distances, and she was hardly the same woman that had left the inn in Edinburgh.

He had grinned at that, and her cheeks had felt so heated she’d gone to splash them with water.

“It should be a week,” Jason told her at noon the first day, when they broke for lunch by the River Tay. They’d follow the river for part of the day, then travel overland to the next source of water, the River Ericht.

“Do you always stick so close to the water?” she asked. “You don’t need to—“

He shook his head. “We could make it in three or four days if we were traveling straight,” he admitted. “But I would take this longer route even if it were my sister or my aunt who’d grown up in the Highlands. Don’t let Johnny make you think differently.”

“All right, but I—“

“I won’t have you getting ill on the way to the keep,” Jason said, stubbornly. “We’re picking up the pace, but—“ he paused. “It would be too soon to tell,” he continued, taking her hand in his. “But every time we share a bed—“

“Right.” Elizabeth bit her lip, nodded. Of course. He had told her he’d share the tent with from now on, and she was happy to hear it—she’d quite enjoyed their nights in Perth and thought it had brought them closer together. And wouldn’t it be wonderful if the glimpse of the little boy she’d seen that day by the loch was not just a dream but a true vision?

A future that could already have started. Perhaps she’d even know for sure by the time she arrived in Braegarie, and wouldn’t that bring her closer to Jason’s people? To bring the next generation of Morgan sons?

“I won’t argue any further,” Elizabeth said. “I just—“ She glanced at at the other end of the clearing where Johnny was sullenly checking the horses. “I only wish he would give me a chance to prove myself.”

“Johnny is suspicious by nature,” Jason told her. “He has promised to behave, and I will hold him to it.” He leaned down to kiss her gently and she sighed. “He’ll get to know you.”

Jason left Elizabeth to finish her luncheon and wash up and went to find Francis checking on their pack horses. “I had a question for you,” he asked,” pitching his voice low so that neither Johnny or his wife could hear.

“Aye?” Francis frowned. “Is something amiss?”

“No, but—Elizabeth said something strange to me last night. About knowing that I keep my promises no matter what my sister says.” Jason tipped his head. “She would have no way of knowing that and I didn’t think Johnny would have told her—“

“Why would I tell Elizabeth about that?” Francis asked. “It was over a year ago, and Emily apologized to you by letter. You said so. The matter was closed.”

Jason furrowed his brow. “But if you said nothing to her—“ He scowled, turning to find Johnny walking towards Elizabeth, offering to help her pack up her things to get back on the trail.

“He might have said something in passing,” Francis admitted, “when he was trying to get you to set her aside. To keep her from trusting you. But he’s given that up, Jason. I promise. He’s been better today, hasn’t he?”

“Aye,” Jason said, still a bit troubled.

“And it’s obvious that whatever secrets she’s carrying—you were correct. They’re not likely to be the sort to mean harm for us. At least not deliberately. And you—“ Francis paused. “You seem content.”

“I am,” Jason said, firmly. “The regent has done us a good turn. He had his reasons, and I am sure we will learn what they are when we least expect it, but she is not part of it.”

“I am loyal to you,” Francis told him. “You’ve made your choice, and we stand with you.”

They broke that evening for camp just as the sun dipped below the trees. Johnny had wanted to go a bit further, but Jason reminded them that they were turning away from the water, and that Elizabeth didn’t have a lot of experience traveling in the dark.

“I can go a bit longer,” she began, but Jason shook his head. This was the last safe place to camp by the water, and they’d have to push hard tomorrow be able to camp on Ericht.

“You should not argue with him, lass,” Johnny told her gruffly, but not unkindly as he removed the tent from the pack horse. “He’s determined to have you reach Braegarie in one piece, and you’ll not convince him differently.”

“I do appreciate the kindness,” Elizabeth hurried to say, her face flaming. “And I hope I don’t appear ungrateful.” She looked at Jason who had come up behind them. “I’m not. I know you do this for me. I just—“ She pressed her lips together, then sighed. “I don’t wish to be a burden.”

“You’re a lone woman traveling with three men,” Johnny told her. “We would be home by now if you were not here. That’s not a criticism,” he added as Jason’s nostrils flared. “Just a fact. It does not make you burden. My lady,” he added as an afterthought. “I’ll go set up the tent.”

“I’ll help,” Jason muttered. It had been one thing to leave the tent to Johnny when just Elizabeth had been sleeping alone, but he was clearly uncomfortable with being treated like the lord of the major and his men serving him.

Elizabeth wrinkled her nose and went over to see if she could help Francis with the evening meal. “I just want something to do,” she complained. “I want to help.”

“Then count the apples,” Francis said absently, handing her a bag. “I meant to do so before we left Perth, and I did not have the moment.”

Happy, Elizabeth settled next to the fire with her task, watching as Jason and Johnny set up the tent where she’d be sleeping with her husband for the first time. It had been such a lonely existence, those first few nights, but would it be strange now to share a pallet with Jason with Johnny and Francis by the fire?

Would they share the pallet the way they had in the inn? She hoped they would, but would it be strange or embarrassing? Oh, how she wished her mother had lived long enough to explain all of this to her—or that she’d been closer to Sarah or had someone else to ask—

“You did not enjoy the apples?” Francis asked dryly as he sat on the log next to her. He handed her a chunk of cheese.

“Oh. No, I did. We have thirty-six,” Elizabeth told him. “Is that enough?”

“Aye. Nine each for each of us. One a day for the noon meal,” he added. “I always buy a bit extra. Most of the time, we’re faster, but—“

“But I might add another day Jason hasn’t calculated,” Elizabeth said. “Thank you. You—and Johnny have been very patient. Even when he did not like me, he hid what I imagine was the worst of the frustration. I know you stayed in Stirling—and Perth—for me.”

“We did,” Francis said, “but it was worth it. You and Jason needed more time before you came to Braegarie. You will be better for it. And Johnny couldna come home the way he was acting. You’re doing fine,” he added. “For a lass from the Lowlands.”

Pleased, Elizabeth beamed at him. “That is the loveliest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

“What was?” Jason said, sounding slightly suspicious as he and Johnny joined them. Francis handed over their own rations of cheese.

“I’m doing fine for a Lowlands lass,” Elizabeth reported. “Francis said so.”

“Well, it could be worse,” Francis said when Johnny rolled his eyes. “She could be an actual Sassanach. Could you imagine an English miss being dragged through the Highlands by the likes of us?”

Johnny snorted. “We’d have dumped her in the loch the first night. Even if she’d even made it out of Edinburgh.” He nodded at Elizabeth. “Francis is right. You’ve done…all right.”

“High praise,” Elizabeth said, lifting her chin and feeling very happy in this moment, in the middle of a dark forest with three brawny Highlanders. She grinned at her husband. “Mayhap in another year, they might mistake me for a Highland woman.”

“You get to Braegarie in one piece,” Jason told her, with a smile and glint in his eye, “you’ll be on your way.”

Written in 59 minutes. No time for edits or spellcheck.

 

---

The final days of the journey to Braegarie were the most difficult, Jason had warned Elizabeth in advance. It would take them away from a water source for the final two days, into the dense wooded hills of the Highlands with few natural clearings.

This night, by the shores of a small loch, would be the last one they’d spend by the water, he told her as Johnny and Francis set up the camp for the night, and then Jason went to work on the tent.

“It would take nearly three weeks to go around,” Johnny told Elizabeth as she organized their rations of food for the night near the fire Francis was building.

She smiled at him, reflecting on how much had changed in the five days since they’d left Perth. Johnny O’Brien, the sullen Irishman had decided she was okay for a Lowlands lass after all, and had been very nearly kind to her over the last few days. Francis had always been cordial to her, but she felt the sincerity from both of them growing over these last few days.

She told Jason as much that night when she crawled beneath the furs of the palette and he turned to her, his face dimly visible in the shadows of the tent. “Highlanders are always suspicious of strangers,” he told her, sliding the tips of his fingers down her torso, and she shivered. “It’s how we stay alive.”

“I know it’ll be harder when we get to the keep,” she told him as she cuddled closer—it was so cold when the sun dropped behind the trees and hills and Jason seemed to radiate heat. “I’ll have to start all over with your aunt, but if they see Johnny and Francis trust me—“

“It’ll be fine,” Jason promised her, rising up on his elbow, his brow darkening with a scowl. “I’ll make it fine.”

She rolled her eyes—he would likely be able to command most of the men, but Elizabeth knew it would take time to convince the women. Still, it was a sharp turn from the way their marriage had begun, just barely two weeks earlier on the streets of the Royal Mile, with Jason nearly dragging her through the streets, furious with the turn of events.

“What are you thinking about?” he murmured, touching her lips with the tip of his index finger.

“The day we wed,” she admitted honestly. “How different it is now.”

Jason’s lips thinned. “I regret—“

“No—“ She shook her head, cutting him off. “No regrets. Everything—every word, every action—it led us to this moment.” She slid her fingers into his hair. “And this is a good moment. Isn’t it?”

“A very good one,” he murmured, then bowed his head to kiss her.

—

It was hours later, not too terribly far away from dawn when Jason’s eyes simply opened. He frowned into the shadows of the night, trying to understand what had jarred him from sleep. There were no sounds—no voices outside the tent calling for his attention. He listened to the world around him—to the sounds of the trees, and the leaves rustling—the gentle lapping of the loch as wind pushed across the surface—

Nothing.

Then he felt it. A movement at his side.

Thinking Elizabeth had stirred because of him, Jason rolled his body over. She’d turned away in the night—after they’d made love and she’d burrowed into the furs and comfort of the makeshift bed—and she was facing the other side of the tent.

He rose up on his elbow to get a better look at her—was she awake? Or had she simply moved—

Her face was scrunched up as though she’d eaten something tart—her lips pursed—her eyes narrowed into slits—her breathing was fast. Almost shallow. Then she whimpered.

“Elizabeth—“ Alarmed, Jason touched her shoulder, fingers sliding across her bare skin like an electric shock.

She hissed, then sucked in a huge breath, jerking away with a start. Her breathing became even more rapidly as she shoved away from him—from their bed—

“What? What’s wrong? What’s going on? What’s happening?”

Her voice was pitched high, the words were sharp, tumbling over one another— “Jason? Where are you? I can’t find you—“

“Elizabeth—“ Jason reached for her shoulders, dragging one of the furs with him to wrap around her body and draw her closer to him—but she rebuffed him, throwing up her hands in defense.

“Don’t touch me! Don’t—What’s happening—“

“Elizabeth—“

“Jason—“

He turned at the sound of Johnny’s voice outside the tent.

“What’s going on?” his first demanded.

“Nothing. Go back to sleep,” Jason hissed at him, not wanting the man to flip back the tent flap and find his nude wife having some sort of attack—

But the interruption seemed to have broken—when Jason looked back, Elizabeth was staring at him, her eyes wide.

“Jason?”

His relief was quick—she sounded like herself again. Soft. A bit scared, but it was his wife. She reached for the fur he’d tried to put around her, and he helped her come back to the bed.

“What’s going on?” she asked, her voice trembling.

“I don’t know.” Jason cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing her cheek. “Were you having a bad dream?”

“Dream?” she repeated. “A dream.” She closed her eyes. “Oh. Yes. Yes. It must—it must have been a dream. I’m sorry. I haven’t—“

“Do you remember any of it? Will it help to talk of it?” he asked, nearly undone by the single tear that slid down her cheek.

“It was—“ She cleared her throat. “I don’t remember—“

“Elizabeth.”

She stopped speaking. Their eyes held. “You were bleeding,” she said softly. “And I tried to stop it, but then my hands were covered in blood. And it was my fault.” She faltered. “I don’t know why—“

He wasn’t familiar with dreams—he didn’t dream and if any of his men did, they never said. “It was a dream,” he reminded her. “I’m not bleeding. And look—“ He held up her hands which were barely visible in the darkness—but the pale skin was evident. “No blood on your hands. It was a dream,” he repeated.

“A dream,” Elizabeth said with a nod. “Just…just a dream. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to wake—or—“ She looked back towards the front of the tent. “Was that Johnny I heard?”

“It’s fine.” He kissed her forehead and pulled her more tightly against her, unhappy with how chilled her skin was. “He’ll get over it. Go back to sleep. You need your rest for the next few days.”

“I’m sorry,” she said again.

“Don’t apologize,” he said, and he winced because the words sounded more sharp than he meant them to. “I just—I was…” He grappled with how to explain himself. “I was worried,” he said finally. “But you’re all right. And so am I. That’s what matters. Go back to sleep,” he said again, but made sure his tone was softer.

She never did drift back into sleep—he never felt her body soften and relax against him the way she did when she slid into dreams at night—and maybe that was for the best if nightmares like that were waiting for her when she closed her eyes.

—

The next morning, Elizabeth was determined to put the entire thing out of her head. She refused to think it was a vision of the future she’d seen in her head. It couldn’t be. She wasn’t going to hurt her new husband—why would she? And Jason was stronger than a hundred men—

It had just been her nerves and worry. They were only two days away from Braegarie— front the start of her new life. It was natural.

With that firmly in her mind, she helped Jason pack their things from the tent and their party got back onto the trail.

Jason had been right to warn her that the next leg of the journey would be more difficult. The land was steeper—and it climbed more sharply. Their horses went slower as they carefully picked their way over the rocky hills and wound through dense woods on a narrow trails.

At noon, Jason called for a break and helped her down from the horse. “There’s just the one clearing near here,” he told her. “We’ll exercise your muscles to keep them loose—we won’t be able to stop at supper.”

“Oh, we could—“ When he just stared at her, she nodded. “All right.” She wound her arm through his as they left Johnny and Francis with the horses. “I’m doing much better than I was when we left Edinburgh,” she said, irritated with how bright and strange her voice felt.

“You are. When we come back to Edinburgh, you’ll be comfortable,” he replied. When they reached the clearing nearly ten minutes later, Jason turned her so that they were facing one another. “Are you all right? I know you didn’t sleep well—do you dream like that often?”

“Not terribly.” She looked away. “Just sometimes. And I don’t know if they’re always bad. I haven’t shared my bed with anyone before now.”

“Are you angry with me?” he asked, his brows drawing together.

“No, I’m—“ Elizabeth sighed. “I’m angry with myself. For having a dream like that and upsetting you. For making you worry about me. I’m not weak.”

“Did someone say you were?” Jason demanded. He glanced back towards the trail from where they’d come. “Did Johnny or Francis—“

“No—“ Elizabeth began, but then stopped. Because his face changed. It tightened and his eyes sharpened as he whipped his head around to the other direction. “Jason—“

“Quiet. Behind me,” he said flatly even as he took her arm and pushed her. As Elizabeth hurried to obey him, she was stunned to see a trio of Highlanders stepping out from the trees at the other side of the clearing. Not men from Jason’s clan, clearly from the way he was acting and the colors they were.

“We’ll be taking the lass now,” the one in the middle said, sauntering forward. “And before ye call for your men—“

Elizabeth turned towards the trail—and uttered a sharp cry of alarm as two more men came from behind them — dragging Francis with them, his brow bloody, his body sagging. Where was Johnny? They must have been attacked as soon Jason and Elizabeth had disappeared from view—

Were these men waiting? How had they known—

“Don’t be making a mistake, my laird,” the man called, drawing their attention back to the first group of men. “No harm, no foul. We’ll take the lass off your hands, you tell the world she died on the way home, and no one will even blink—“

Jason said nothing, but his body was as tight as a rock. He was outnumbered and had no weapon that she was aware of.

“What will it be, Laird? You either die now or at home in bed as a old man. Either way, we’ll be taking her.”

“Not while I draw breath,” Jason growled.

“Jason,” she breathed. “Please—“ Oh, God. Oh, God. It wasn’t a dream. It wasn’t a dream.

He’d be broken, bloody, and bruised. And the blood would be on her hands. Someone had come for her. Someone had known. And she’d not warned them. She’d not told him her secret and it had put them all into danger—

“Can you climb a tree?” Jason murmured, his voice so low that Elizabeth could scarcely hear him.

Not since she was a child, but— “Aye,” she breathed.

“When I say run — go to to the left and climb the first you see until you can go no higher,” he murmured. “You’re lighter and quicker.”

“Laird, I’m getting impatient!”

“It’s our best chance,” he continued, his voice so soft she had to stretch to hear him. “Elizabeth?”

“Aye,” she managed, her voice trembling.

“Go!” he ordered and she ran.

Written in 65 minutes. Sorry took an extra few minutes.

---

Out of the corner of his eye, Jason saw Elizabeth dart away and while he wanted to follow her—wanted to make sure she got to safety and up the highest tree—

He needed to draw their attention to him—they’d ambushed, laid in wait—they’d known Jason and his men would be here—

And they’d come for Elizabeth.

He didn’t recognize any of the men who were circling him—or the two men who were holding Francis back as the blond had regained conscious and was struggling against their hold—good, it meant Jason only had three men to deal with—

He could handle that—

“After the wench,” the leader growled at one of the other men, but before he could follow the orders, Jason lunged at him—twisting his head on his neck before the man even took a step. He heard a sickening crunch, and dropped the man to the ground.

“Who’s next?” he demanded. One of the other men grabbed a dirk from his kilt and swung it at Jason who started to reach for his own knife tucked in his boot—

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the sight of colors flashing and a man in a kilt breaking away from Francis and darting for the trees—for Elizabeth—

And in that moment of distraction, Jason felt fire slice through his arm as the knife-wielder lunged at him. Jason flipped him over his back and barreled into the leaders, knocking him to the ground and slitting his throat.

Two down—

Just two to go.

“Who sent you?” Jason growled as the two of them circled each other warily, each of them armed. He could hear Francis taking on his captor—his eyes straining to hear Elizabeth—let her sceam for him, just he’d know she was alive—

The man didn’t answer. He hurled himself at Jason, but Jason swung out his elbow, catching the man on the side of the head, and knocking him to the ground. He planted his boot on his chest, held the knife to his thoat. “Who sent you?” he repeated.

The man laughed harshly. “Didn’t care as long as he paid.”

“Where did you meet him?”

“Capital,” the man muttered. “Edinburgh. Told us where to wait. Said you’d be here soon enough.”

Jason scowled, then finished the man off with a twist of the neck. He didn’t know anything. He turned to find Francis finishing off the last of the men.

“Where did the lass go?” Francis demanded.

Jason searched the copse of trees, looked up, desperately scanning them for any signs of her—for any sounds. “I sent her into the trees.”

“He went after her—” Francis rubbed his forehead, smearing the blood. “Johnny’s back at the horses. Might be knocked out. Might be dead. They were waiting fer us.”

“I ken.” There’d be time for that, but he wanted his wife to be safe—

Then he heard a scream that cut off abruptly. He plunged into the trees, Francis on his heels.

—

She hadn’t gone for a tree that ringed the clearing—that would have been too easy—Elizabeth had run for what felt like forever, but was probably only a matter of seconds before she found a tall skinny with branches that grew lighter as they climbed towards the sky. A tree that might bear her weight, but not one of the heavier men—

She lunged for the first branch and dragged herself, her lungs breathing fire by the time she managed the third branch.

“You little bitch—”

Startled, Elizabeth looked down—she’d made it made ten feet and one of the men had reached the base of the tree, was already lifting himself on the first branch. Something surged through her vein, and Elizabeth pushed herself higher—her scraped against a branch, and she winced something dug into her palm.

“Fookin bitch—”

Something grabbed her foot, and Elizabeth kicked out, but then her fingers slipped and she nearly fell off her branch. She clung to the bark of the tree for a minute, squeezing her eyes shut. Oh, God, Oh, God. Jason was already dead, wasn’t he? There had been five of them, and Francis had looked dead, and no way Johnny wasn’t already gone—he never would have let anything happen to Jason or Francis—

“Just come here—” the man grunted.

“No!” she bit out. She kicked again with her foot, her heel digging into his cheek bone. He grunted and fell back—

She resumed her climb — if she could just reach a branch that wouldn’t hold his weight—he’d fall and maybe he’d die. And then—then she could think.

She just had to get higher. Jason had told her to climb as high as she could. This was her fault. She hadn’t warned them—how could she have known—

Sobbing, she climbed two more branches—she was so close—so close—she’d get to the top and it would be over—she wanted it to be over—why wasn’t it done—

Then fire poured through her body and she screamed, losing the grip on the branch—she desperately reached out for something but only found air—

She was falling through the air, then was stopped so abruptly her breath was snatched from her lungs—

The man had stopped her from falling, his meaty fist wrapped around her upper arm. “I should just let you fall, but I don’t get paid if you die—”

Someone had—

Oh, God, Jason was dead, she was alone, and this nightmare was going to give her to someone. Was it just going to get worse?

“I’d rather take you with me—” she snarled, then dug her nails into his fist until he released her, howling—and she plunged down to the ground—

And hit it so hard her bones rattled and her head lolled to the side, resting in the dirt and leave, her vision blurred and weaving. She heard a grunt and thud behind her—oh, God—it hadn’t been far enough…

Her eyes drifted closed and she waited for death.

—

Jason was twenty feet away when he found the tree Elizabeth had chosen to climb and running towards it—she was dangling from the hand of one of the men—then she was falling—

And he didn’t get there in time—didn’t get here to stop it, to catch her—her small body hit the ground so hard that she nearly bounced—

And the man had fallen behind her, was already rolling over—

Jason hurled himself at the other man, not even bothing to draw it out—he broke the man’s neck cleanly and shoved him aside, crawling and scrambling across the forest floor, desperate to reach Elizabeth’s side.

Francis was already there, carefully, looking her over—

“She’s alive,” Francis said, quickly. “But I don’t—” He winced as he gently pushed her on her back, and they saw the pool of blood blossoming on her shoulder. A stab wound. “I don’t know if she’s got any broken bones—”

“Check quickly. I don’t know if anyone else was waiting. I need to get her to Braegarie.” Their healer could look after her, save her.

He pressed on her wound, hoping to stop the bleeding, and Elizabeth gasped sharply. Her eyes fluttered open and she stared at him. “I’m not dead?”

“No, no,” he promised her. “You’re alive. You’ll be okay. I’ll make you okay.”

“You’re not dead.”

“No.” He raised his hand to cup her cheek and her eyes bulged in horror and he realized too late that his hand was now covered in her blood.

“Blood. Blood. My fault. Always my fault—” She choked on a sob, twisting her head away fro mhim. “Johnny. Francis.”

“Francis is here, we’re okay. I don’t—we’ll find out—” He looked at Francis— “Can we move her?”

“Looks to be bumps and bruises. That wound looks nasty,” he said. “We need to get her somewhere and clean it.”

“My fault,” she moaned, then her eyes drifted closed.

Jason gathered her in his arms, wincing when she cried out— “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. We have to get you home. I’ll make it okay. I’ll take care of you—”

She was unconscious by the time they’d reached the horses—and also relieved to see Johnny recovering from a bash on the head.

“What the hell—” He winced, pressing a hand to his forehead. “What happened?”

“Ambush. They were coming for Elizabeth.” Jason handed her to Francis until he could get on the horse, and then arranged her very carefully against him on the horse, making her injury had pressure on it. “Let’s go. We don’t stop until we see the keep.”

“Fuck me,” Johnny muttered, but he scrambled onto the horse, and Francis followed. They were two days out from Braegarie but they knew these hills like they back of their hands—if they weren’t stopping to spare the horses or Elizabeth, Jason could get home by dawn.

—

“What in the bloody hell is going on here?” Tracy Morgan demanded as she barreled into her nephew’s bedroom. “You came roaring into the keep like a Sassanech was chasing—” She stopped when she saw the petite form of woman stretched out on the bed, her right shoulder bared with a nasty knife wound in in the pale skin. “What is that?”

“My wife,” Jason bit out as he watched the healer, Barbara Jones, carefully clean Elizabeth’s wound. Fever had set in overnight, but he hadn’t stopped. Couldn’t stop. He’d needed to get her home. To get her to safety.

He could protect here, and when she recovered, she’d tell him why the hell those men had chased her and try to kill her. She couldn’t keep her secrets anymore—not when they threatened to take her away from him.

He wouldn’t have it.

“Your wife,” Tracy repeated. “Do I get to ask how this happened?”

“Not now, Aunt,” he retorted. “See to Johnny and Francis. They were injured, as well.” When she nodded at his bandaged arm, he scowled. “A scratch. They were unconscious.”

She squinted at him, but recognized the set of his stubborn shoulders. Just like his father. “Fine. I[ll see to them, but I’ll want answers when I come back,” she warned.

“Barbara,” Jason asked when his aunt had gone, “can you bring down the fever?”

“You know it’s not that simple,” she told him. “The fever lasts as long as the infection. If I had treated her as soon as this happened—” Barbara turned on the bed to face him. “Did you not stop to clean it?”

“We—I couldn’t take the chance. We were ambushed. I didn’t know if anyone was waiting, and I couldn’t protect her on my own.” Jason pushed down the guilt. “Barbara—”

“We’ll see. It’s not always in my hands. It’s on God now.” She bandaged the wound and drew the furs over Elizabeth’s pale skin. “We’ll clean it regularly, treat her fever and hope for the best.” She nodded at his bandage. “Did you clean yours?”

“It’s nothing worse than I’ve gotten sparring in the yard,” Jason said. “It’s fine. I’d know by now.”

“Fair enough.” Barbara set some salve on the night table. “If she’s uncomfortable, brew her willow bark tee. I’ve told the kitchens to keep it ready. And rub this every hour into the wound. I’ll find something else for her bruises.” She paused. “Unless you’d like me—”

“No,” he snapped. “I’ll see to it. She’s my wife.”

“Of course.” She got to her feet. “Jason, if you tell me it was a matter of life and death to get her here, then I believe you. You couldn’t have known—infection doesn’t always happen. Look at you—”

“I told her to run for the trees,” Jason muttered. “I should have protected her better.” He barely heard the healer leave as he sat on the bed and stared down at the pale and quiet face of a woman he hadn’t known existed three weeks ago.

And whom he wouldn’t know how to live without if this fever took her from him.

—

Her fever raged for three days and four very long nights, and on the second night, it climbed so high that Barbara told Jason to prepare for the worst. He barely slept, and he saw to none of the business of the keep.

He would stay in this room, with Elizabeth until she either won this fight — or he’d be with her, holding her when she breathed her last.

He helped Barbara bathe her in cold water that night, pouring freezing water from loch over her body, desperate to bring down the heat in her body—

On the morning of the four day, the fever broke.

Jason had barely slept, and at some point during the night, he laid down next to her, just to watch her— to drink every moment, sure that that at any moment he’d hear the rattle in her throat that had accompanied his mother’s death two winters ago.

He must have drifted off against his will because when he opened his eyes, she was looking at him, frowning slightly.

“You—” He frowned. “Elizabeth.”

“I feel strange,” she said softly, her voice rusty. “What—what happened—”

He sat up, reaching for her hand—her cool, slightly damp skin like a dream. Then Jason pressed a hand to the back of her head. “You—your fever broke.”

“Fever.” Elizabeth winced, closing her eyes. “From—I was hurt? Were…the trees. Oh.” Her eyes flew open. “I fell.”

“You did.”

“You were hurt.”

“Not as bad as you.” He kissed her palm. “And you fought back. You’re all right.”

“Johnny. Francis.”

“They’re okay. We’ve just been waiting on you.” He didn’t understand the tickle in his throat, the way his lungs were aching as he watched her try to look around the room, trying to understand what happened—why she’d woken up where she was.

She was okay. She’d made it through. She lived. He’d brought her home and now he’d keep her safe forever.

“Are—” Elizabeth tried to take a deep breath, but coughed. “Are we at your keep?”

“Yes. We’re at Braegarie,” he told her. He smoothed her hair from her forehead. “We’re home.”

“Home,” she repeated, closing her eyes again. “That sounds nice.”

“Yeah.” He rested his brow against hers. “And I’m going to keep you safe this time. I promise.”

—

“What do you mean you haven’t asked her?” Johnny demanded four days later as he paced the solar set at the front of the keep. Jason winced as he pulled over the estate books and attempted to distract himself.

With Elizabeth still resting in their bedroom, regaining her strength, Jason had tried to distract himself with work, but he had to admit he understood Johnny’s irritation.

“I haven’t asked her,” Jason said slowly, “because she nearly died a week ago, and when she woke up—”

She’d been so happy to be at Braegarie—that Tracy seemed to be at least tolerating her—and some of the other servants had already been kindly predisposed to her because of the way Jason had looked after her personally. SHe’d also been tired and spent a lot of time sleeping.

The last thing Jason wanted to do was bring back the horror of the day—of her plunge from the trees and how close she’d come to whatever those men had planned.

But Johnny was right. He needed to find out why those men had been there. What had been so important about her that men had been paid to lay in wait for the perfect moment—what had they been planning to do to her?

Jason got to his feet. “I’ll take care of it—”

“You know that I don’t think she was involved,” Johnny said. “That I don’t suspect her that I did before. But not being part of the plan, Jason? That’s not the same thing as being ignorant. She has to know why they were there. And what if there’s more of them? Will you keep her locked up in that room forever?’

“No,” Jason said with a growl. “I said I’ll deal with it—”

“I doubt it,” Johnny tossed at him, then stalked from the solar. Jason dragged a hand through his hair, glared at the door—then strode out of it.

Johnny was right. How could Jason keep Elizabeth safe if she wasn’t honest with him?

—

It was the first day since she’d woken up that Elizabeth felt strong enough to get out of the bed, and one of the maids, a vibrant blonde who everyone called Lulu, helped her to a chair by the fireplace. It was so lovely with the fire lit—

She beamed when Jason came in that afternoon, surprised since he rarely visited during the day. He was so busy, and Lulu had said he’d taken care of her himself during the fever. He must care for her a little, and maybe if she told him the truth—if she told him what she was—

It would be okay. If he cared for—

“You’re—” Jason looked at the bed, then at her. “You’re out of bed.”

“Yes. I almost made it myself,” she told him. “Lulu helped the rest of the way, and I think I could even make it to dinner. I’d like to—”

“We need to talk,” he interrupted, and she stopped abruptly, closing her mouth. “About that day in the woods.”

“I know—”

“You told me your secret wouldn’t bring any harm to me or the clan. You’re part of my clan, Elizabeth. You can’t keep your secrets anymore.”

She’d known that—she’d been preparing to tell him the truth—but the words died on the tip of her tongue as he looked at her. The man looking back at her wasn’t the man she’d seen the morning she’d awakend, or the kind and gentle man she’d shared a bed with all those nights on the way home—

It was the man who had sat across from her in that inn Edinburgh, demanding she bare her soul when he’d done nothing but drag her through the mud.

And this man might not understand the truth.

“And if I don’t?” Elizabeth said slowly, forcing her voice to stay steady. “Will you send me back to Edinburgh?”

Jason scowled. “You need to let me protect you, Elizabeth. I can’t keep you safe if I don’t what the risks are. If I had known there was danger—you lied to me—”

“I didn’t—”

“If you won’t let me protect you by telling me the truth, then I’ll have to find another way to do it.” He lifted his chin. “You’ll have my men with you everywhere you go. Is that understood?”

“Yes,” she said softly.

He stared at her for another long moment, then scowled, storming out.

She closed her eyes, took deep breath. At least she had a few memories before it had all ended. Thank God she’d never told him the truth,

Written in 60 minutes.

---

By the time Jason reached the hall of the keep where tables were being arranged for the warriors and members of the household to eat supper, he knew he had made a mistake. He should have found another way to ask Elizabeth about the secret she’d been keeping from him since the day of their marriage—the mysterious service she’d done for the regent of Scotland that had brought them together.

He stalked across the hall to the fire where Johnny and Francis were standing with other members of the clan. “Francis.”

The blond turned and raised brows. “Jason—”

“I want you to go to Edinburgh,” Jason told him after drawing him aside. “The men in the forest wore no colors that I recognized, but they were hired there. You have their descriptions?”

“Aye,” Francis grimly. “What Max and his men could manage when they returned to the clearing.” Some of the men had been torn apart by wolves that infested the forest.

“Good. Travel light and fast. I want to know if there are more threats.” If Elizabeth wouldn’t give him the information he needed to protect her, he’d have to find it from somewhere else. “And…make inquiries about her family. Her father.”

“Aye. I’ll see that it’s done.”

—

By the time he sat down to supper, scowling at the chair next to his at the lead table where his wife was supposed to sit. It had been empty since his mother had died in childbed after the birth of his sister—not even his aunt had taken up the space.

She’d been at the keep for a week and most of the clan had yet to see her. It wasn’t the start he’d wanted for her, knowing how nervous she’d been about being an outsider—

“Well, ’tis about time,” his aunt said flatly. Jason frowned, turned to the woman on the other side of him. “People were wondering if she was ever going to descend from her tower.”

“I don’t care for your tone,” Jason retorted before her words registered and he spun his head back towards the hall where the stairs climbed to the upper stairs.

Elizabeth was slowly closing the distance between it and table, her arm around through the arm of one of the men he’d left at his door. Jason got to his feet, irritation licking at the back of his throat. If any one should escort her to dinner—

He strode towards her, but was careful to keep his tone gentle as he approached Elizabeth and Milo, younger brother to Max. “I would have brought you downstairs,” he told her.

She met his eyes, and he was surprised to see that she hadn’t closed herself off to him. He’d been sure—but she looked the same as she had before he’d been an idiot in their bedchamber earlier that day.

“I know, but I didn’t want to bother you, and—” She glanced at Milo. “I thought I should get to know Milo since you’ve assigned him as my escort.”

“Aye, well—” Jason looked at the younger man gruffly. “You can go to supper. I’ll take my wife to the table.”

“Aye, Laird.” Milo headed over to one of the other tables.

“Are you sure you’re up to this?” Jason asked, putting an arm around her waist, fighting the urge to lift her into his arms and put her back upstairs where nothing could hurt her.

“I tried to tell you earlier,” Eliabeth said. She winced slightly as she sat down in the chair at the table. “That I thought I was ready. I’m still tired, and there are quite a few places that are bruised from the fall,” she continued, “but I don’t want to be…I don’t want to be locked away.”

“I never meant—” Jason exhaled slowly. He sat next to her, glared at a few of his men who were staring at his wife. They immediately returned their attention to their meals. “I didn’t mean for you to be—”

“When we spoke earlier,” she said slowly, “I found myself transported back in time. A few weeks ago, to that inn in Edinburgh.” She met his eyes. “When you dragged me down the street, put me in a room, and demanded me to break my oath without so much as a second thought.”

“I—”

“We are not those people anymore, are we?” she asked her voice soft, careful not to carry to anyone else though he could tell eyes were still on them. “I wish that I felt ready to tell you what you want to know. What I know you deserve to know. I just…” She stopped as one of the serving women set a bowl of mutton stew down in front of her. When they were very nearly alone again, she tried again, “I can’t bring myself to do it.”

That displeased him, but he forced himself not to show it. “I have to know—”

“I know.” Their eyes met again, and held this time. “I’m asking for time.”

“How am I to protect you—”

“I can tell you that I saved the regent’s life,” Elizabeth said. She bit her lip. “I can’t imagine how anyone might know it or want revenge on me for doing so, but that’s all I did. I just—I can’t tell you how.”

He exhaled, then leaned back in his chair, looking away from his wife. He traded a look with Johnny at the other end of the table. It did not surprise Jason that someone wanted the Duke of Albany dead. Another regent to the king would have to be selected, and someone was always looking for more power. Elizabeth having thwarted the ambitions of a man willing to do murder would explain why someone might come after her.

But to lay an ambush that required weeks? And they’d said they were taking her with them—she’d been ordered to be delivered to someone alive and healthy.

“You will not tell me how you did this?” Jason asked, looking back to his wife. “Is that the source of this secret? Of your worry?”

“Yes.”

He could live with that. He knew that she’d stepped in the middle of who ever wanted to wield the power of a king. How she’d done that was not material to anyone else but her, and if she wasn’t ready to deliver that secret—

“I’m sorry. I understand if you still don’t trust me—”

“If the regent did not want anyone to know there had been an attempt on his life, then it follows he would have wanted you not to say anything.” Jason nodded. “Thank you.”

“You—you’re satisfied with—” She blinked. “I cannot believe—”

“I am not happy that you still don’t trust me with whatever you’re holding on to,” Jason told her, “but neither can I say that it is something that I need to know. I told you. Your secrets are your own as long as they do not threaten this clan.” He paused. “Will your secret put you at risk further?”

“Living here at Braegarie, I would hope not. But I also did not think there would be any danger once we left Edinburgh,” she admitted. “I cannot promise it.” She bit her lip. “I would understand if you wanted to find a way to set me aside. I hear it can be done here in the Highlands—”

“No,” Jason said, more harshly than he’d meant to—but he couldn’t imagine sending her away. Where would she go? A convent? Back to her father? “No,” he repeated, more gently. “I told you weeks ago. I am satisifed with this marriage. That has not changed.”

“It—” Her eyes were wide now. “It hasn’t?”

“No. You will keep your secrets, and when you are ready, you will give them to me, and I will keep them for you.” He nodded. “I see no reason anything else has to change. You’re safe here at Braegarie.”

“I was not—” She smiled tremulously. “I thought you would be angrier.”

“I should have been more understanding earlier,” he said. “I ask your forgiveness. You’re right. I wasn’t speaking to the woman I’d come to know since we left that inn, and you deserve better than that from me.” He hesitantly placed his hand over hers as it rested on the table. “If you will forgive me, I will forgive you, and we will put this behind us.”

“Aye.” Her eyes damp with tears, she nodded. “I’d like that.”

—

To Elizabeth’s surprise, not only did they put the entire incident behind them, but for weeks after she went to supper with the clan for the first time, Jason never brought up the secret they both knew she was keeping.

She couldn’t bring herself to tell him about the visions—there were times when she thought he might accept it—but always, something held her tongue. As as long she followed the most important advice she’d learned from her mother—Elizabeth could even forget for long periods of time. She occasionally had flashes when she and Jason were together, but they were brief and gave her little information.

As she recovered from her fall fully, she devoted herself to becoming the best wife she could, to make sure Jason never regretted taking a chance on her even though she’d given him little reason to trust her.

His aunt had been a difficult nut to crack, but Elizabeth had perservered, insisting that that she only wanted to make sure that Braegarie was handed down to her sons and daughters in the excellent condition that Tracy had maintained.

Tracy was suscipetible to flatterty, and decided that her nephew’s Low Lander wife needed training if she was going to be a Highland woman. Elizabeth had hoped to make a few friends, but as the laird’s wife, it was difficult to build a friendship with one of the women who worked in the keep or in the village.

But she was friendly with the maids that served in the hall, and Tracy told her that were would be festivals where she could meeet other women in her station—

And the best part of Elizabeth’s new life was not just the home she was building or the acceptance she hadn’t dared to hope for—no, the best part of her lif was her husband.

She knew she was desperately in love with him, and hoped he couldn’t see it. It would be humiliating if he knew just how much of her time and energy she spent devising ways to make his life better, to keep him happy, to never make him regret for a single moment that he’d let her stay. He had never promised to love her, but he was kind, he was affectionate, and he made her feel cared for.

She’d never been so happy.

Until the day near midsummer, when she followed Tracy into the storage rooms of the keep to look over the stores for the coming months. It was never too early to plan for the snowfalls that would prevent hunting, Tracy had told her.

Elizabeth was dutifuly taking that information to heart when a wave of dizziness swept over her, and she reached out a head to brace herself on one of the wooden shelves fastened to the wall.

“My lady?” the cook said. Tracy grimaced as she turned back.

“What not?”

“I’m—” Elizabeth took a deep breath, waiting for the spell to pass, then pressed her other hand to her middle. “I’m sorry. I just—felt a bit—” She cleared her throat. “I’m listening.”

Tracy pursed her lips, then strode forward to take Elizabeth by the chin. She tilted Elizabeth’s head to one side, then the other, peering into her pupils. “Go lay down. I’ll send Barbara to you.”

Elizabeth shook her head. “I’m all right—”

“Do you think that I would tell you to go lay down if I thought you could keep going?” Tracy demanded. “Do you think I have time to worry about you? We have to finish this inventory, and now I have to stop to think about this. Go upstairs, and I’ll send Barbara to you,” she repeated.

And because Elizabeth completely believed her husband’s aunt would never allow Elizabeth to shirk her duties, she obeyed this time. What had Tracy seen that worried her? She was fine, wasn’t she? Most of the time, she felt better than ever—

Of course, she was more tired than usual, she admitted when the pretty redheaded healer joined her in Elizzabeth’s bedchamber. And aye, she’d been dizzy—and sometimes she was ill in the morning—

“Have I bled?” Elizabeth asked. “No, but—” Her mouth closed. “Oh.”

“Aye, ’tis good news,” Barbara declared. “Such a young bride! You will have many sons. You should tell the laid you’re carrying. He’ll be very happy.”

“I suppose I’ve been so busy,” she murmured, “I haven’t thought of it, but—” She pressed a hand to her middle again. A child. Oh, she’d wanted children.

“My lady? Should I send for the laird—”

“No, no. I wish—I’m feeling a bit tired,” Elizabeth admitted. “I will tell him before supper. I promise. Thank you, Barbara.”

When the healer had left, Elizabeth went to sit by the fireplace, though one hadn’t been laid that day and wouldn’t until the sun set later that night.

She’d spent the last two months happier than she’d ever been in her life, and there had been times when she’d prayed for a child because only that would make it perfect.

But now she realized that it wasn’t perfect. She couldn’t bring a child into this world—not while Jason didn’t know what she was.

What if they had a daughter? Her vision by the loch could have been a dream—or maybe their daughter had been elsewhere. And what if they had a daughter one day? What if the visions fell on a son?

Tracy had not promised not to tell Jason anything, and because she suspected what she did—she sent for her nephew immediately.

Jason hurried up to the bedchamber, irritated that his aunt would tell him nothing more than his wife was ill and required him. When he shoved open the door, he found his wife sitting quietly by the fireplace, staring into the ashes of the hearth.

Alarmed, he closed the door. “Elizabeth?”

She looked at him, then sighed. “Do you remember the day I said goodbye to Steven in Edinburgh? What he told me?”

“Aye,” Jason said with a frown. “He said to remember what your mother told you.” He paused. “That you should be invisible and quiet.”

“I didn’t tell you the most important piece of that advice,” Elizabeth said. She closed her eyes. “I should remember to not to touch anyone—but if I did, then I must stay quiet and be invisible.”

“Not to—” Jason shook his head, mystified. “Elizabeth—”

“Because sometimes when I touch someone—I can see the future.” She met his eyes. “And that’s how I knew regent was going to be poisoned.”

Written in 60 minutes.

---

I can see the future.

The words hung in the air between them for a long moment as Jason stared at his wife, waiting for her to explain what that meant because it couldn’t—

She didn’t really mean—

Her eyes dropped to her lap where her fists were clenched. “You don’t believe me,” Elizabeth said softly.

“I—” Jason stopped, then slowly walked towards her, then sat in the chair cross from her, on the other side of the hearth, trying to gather his thoughts. This was the secret she’d been clinging to so tightly since the day they had met, and he knew the implications of such an ability if true.

Anyone—especially a woman—who claimed to be able to see the future—would be treated by most of the world as either a liar or possessed by evil. If the wrong person heard Elizabeth make this claim, she’d be taken up for a witch.

“You saw the regent being poisoned?” Jason said. “How—how does that—” He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand. Does it—do you see it in your head or—”

She raised her eyes to meet his, then squinted at him. “Are you asking me how it works?”

“Aye. I’ve never—the nightmare,” he said suddenly. “Was that a nightmare or did you—”

“I wanted it to be a nightmare,” Elizabeth admitted, her voice soft. “Sometimes they come in my sleep, and I really—I saw nothing more than my hands stained with your blood.”

“But that didn’t happen.”

“No, but it could have.” She swiped a hand under her eye to dash away a tear. “Johnny and Francis—they nearly died. And if one of those men—” Elizabeth took a deep breath. “They almost never happen that way. Not since I was a child. I wasn’t ready for it.”

“Does Albany know about this?” Jason asked, his shoulders tensing. If the duke knew her secret, would he keep it?”

“I think—” Elizabeth’s lips tightened. “I think it’s possible he knew all along. My father isn’t an important man. He doesn’t command armies or warriors. The invitation to court was a surprise, and he would have left me at home if he could. The messengers told my father they were expecting all three of his children.”

“Your brother and sister weren’t there that day,” Jason remembered. “If you were being presented at court—”

“Another message came that morning—Albany wanted to speak with my father and his youngest daughter. Father very nearly brought Sarah, but Steven wouldn’t let him.” Elizabeth tugged at the cuff of her dress. “We went to court, and there weren’t many people in the room. Just the duke and some of his men. I made my curtsy but when I started to stand, he reached for my hand to help me up.”

“And you need to touch someone to see the vision for them.” Jason rose to his feet and paced over to the window.

“Aye. It flashed in my head—the cup sitting behind him on the table. I saw someone putting poison in it—and then I saw the duke drinking it, then falling down—he was in terrible agony,” she whispered, her voice trembling.

Jason turned, a terrible thought occurring to him. “Did you feel it? Is that something else that happens?”

“Aye. It’s part of the reason I couldn’t keep quiet. I—it hurt, and I fell to the ground—and I begged him not to drink the wine—I thought—” She closed her eyes, then rubbed her throat. “He just stared at me, then told my father to take my hand and follow him. We went to that room—and he spilled the wine on the ground. One of his soldiers brought a cage with a rat—the rat—it was—” Elizabeth took a deep breath. “I was terrified and my father was furious. I was sure that he would accuse me of having something to do with it. Father was trying to drag me away, but the duke—he just—he just thanked me and said that I should have a reward for saving his life.”

“It sounds as if he set it up, but how could he know for sure that you’d receive a vision of him falling ill from the poison and not of him planning it?” Jason asked, furrowing his brow. “Wouldn’t that be just as likely?”

“I don’t—” She twisted in her chair. “I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking about any of that. I just—I wanted to find a way to keep my father from being angry. I had no way—I didn’t know—he sent one of his men away, and then you were there—it happened so fast. It wasn’t until later, until after the attack in the woods—”

Jason nodded, almost absently, his mind whirring with the implications of Elizabeth’s story and the idea that the duke knew her secret. Had he sent the men? Why even allow Elizabeth to leave court? Why command a marriage with a Highlander who lived far away?

“I should have told you sooner,” she said softly, drawing his attention, “but I knew—I knew you might not—” Elizabeth rose to her feet and crossed over to him. “I knew you might not set me aside, but I was sure you would not want children from me.”

Jason frowned at that. “Why—is it inherited? Did your mother—”

“I don’t know. She never said, and she tried to keep it from my father,” Elizabeth added. “I—I had a vision of my mother’s death, but she’d told me it was important not to tell anyone—even her—anything I saw, so I just prayed that it wouldn’t happen. After she died, I was—I made a mistake in front of my father. That was when he decided Sarah and I should never marry. He could bear for my curse to be known—”

“My only worry,” Jason told her, “is that I would not be able to protect you if the wrong person found out. We would have to be careful with any daughters—or sons—” he added. He took her hand in his. “Is that why my aunt sent for me? Is that why you’re telling me today?”

“Yes.” Elizabeth’s cheeks heated as she met his eyes. “Barbara thinks it will be sometime next winter, perhaps the early spring.” She bit her lip. “Women die in childbed—”

“You won’t,” Jason said flatly as if he had any control over something like that. He knew she was right—his own mother had died giving birth to his sister.

“But I could, and I can not bear the thought of leaving you unprepared if the babe inherited my curse—”

“It’s not a curse,” Jason cut in. “Only weak men who fear what they don’t understand say things like that.” He paused. “I’m holding your hand now. Should I—”

“Oh. I only—” She stared at their joined hands. “‘Tis like my brother, Steven. I had flashes with him when I was a child, but he was—he was always affectionate. He was the only person who would—I think, after a time, I don’t—it’s not as—I haven’t had more than a flash since we came to Braegarie.”

“But you have had them,” Jason pressed. “I’m sorry,” he said when she looked away. “Should I not ask—”

“No, no. It’s—” Elizabeth bit her lip, then their eyes met again. “The day we wed, you took my hand for the first time. I didn’t have a flash of anything specific, only that you would be kind to me. That I could be safe.”

He remembered now how her expression had changed, her tension had dissipated. “It’s not only the future then? Is that how you knew about my argument with Emily?”

“I—” Elizabeth frowned, shook her head. “I don’t remember.”

“Our last night in Perth, you told me that I never break a promise. No matter what my sister said.”

“Oh.” Her eyes widened. “I don’t remember that.” Then her cheeks flushed. “Unless—sometimes when I’m tired or falling asleep, I—sometimes I can see inside your—I’m so sorry. It hasn’t happened very much. I need to be very relaxed—”

“And you haven’t felt very relaxed,” Jason answered. Visions, reading minds, reading personalities—he exhaled slowly. If Elizabeth had ever learned how to control this—no one wonder someone had wanted to steal her away and keep her.

“I’m so sorry—”

“Don’t—” He shook his head, then brought the palm of her hand to his mouth and kissed it. “Don’t apologize. Not for this. I am glad you’ve told me. I am even more pleased that we’re going to have to have a child. I would be grateful for any flash you might have that you and the babe will be healthy and safe.”

Her lower lip quivered. “You’re not angry with me? Not disgusted? I could be burned at the stake—”

“They would have to kill me first,” Jason promised her, but he saw that his oath had done nothing to calm her. “Elizabeth, my only worry is keeping you and our child safe. Now that I know, we can work together to do so. You wanted children, didn’t you?”

“Aye. And I—” Finally, what looked like a mixture of relief and joy slid into her eyes. “I did see something by the loch. The day you asked me to come here and be your wife. I saw this room.”

“This room?” Jason repeated.

“Aye. We were sitting by the fire as we do so often. I was with carrying a child, but you—you were holding our son. I think our first babe will be a boy. Or if there’s a daughter, I didn’t see her—”

“But you saw yourself surviving childbirth—” And a second child? Jason drew her close, resting his forehead against hers, suddenly overwhelmed with the knowledge that he would have sons and, hopefully, daughters with his wife. He’d wanted it—but now he had the same image in his own mind—

“I didn’t know until I woke here and saw the hearth if it was just my own dream or the future. I—I very much want it to be our future.” She framed his face with her hands. “You have made me feel safe. And happy. I want to give that to you.”

“You do,” he promised her. He kissed her fingers, then her mouth, then—just before he lifted her in his arms—he stopped. “Are you feeling all right? I should—should you be laying down? Aunt Tracy said you were ill—”

“Dizzy for a moment,” Elizabeth told him, “but I’m fine. I am better than fine,” she declared, then rose on her toes to kiss him. “And if you have a bit of time—”

“I have more than just a bit—” He picked her up and carried her to the bed to show her just how much he loved her—even if he hadn’t found a way to say the words yet.

—

Secrets did not last long in the Morgan clan, and by the time Jason led Elizabeth down to supper a few hours later, it seemed as if everyone knew.

Still, Jason proudly stood and made an official announcement. The birth of a child to the laird was a celebration, particularly the first born. There were toasts and cheers, and many began to trade wagers on whether there would be a lad or a lass in seven months time.

Elizabeth beamed as his aunt drew her into a conversation about traditions and the right way to bring up a Highlander which gave Jason the chance to lean over to Francis with a low conversation.

“After supper, in the solar,” he muttered to his second in command. “Bring Johnny.”

“Aye.”

He wasn’t sure how much of Elizabeth’s secret he could tell them—he didn’t want to tell them anything but if he was going to keep his family safe, he needed to know what the duke knew.

Later, Elizabeth went to sit in front of the large hearth in the hall with his aunt to continue their conversation. Jason knew that Tracy was overjoyed at the thought of children—she’d wanted Jason to marry for some time—and would keep his wife occupied for a while.

“‘Tis good news,” Johnny told Jason as he closed the door and turned to his men. “Elizabeth looks very happy.”

“She is. But I cannot forget the attack. Francis, when you went to Edinburgh, you found nothing that would give us their identity.”

“Aye, and as I told you, her family was settling into court. I didn’t see any evidence that her father was planning to leave until the elder girl had married.” Francis frowned. “We’ve been over this. Did something happen?”

Jason hesitated. “I’ve learned what service Elizabeth performed for the regent,” he said slowly. “I knew two months ago, but there’s another part of it. I cannot tell you all, but she saved Albany’s life. I think it’s possible that Albany set her up to do so — that he lured her father to court in order to test Elizabeth. I don’t know if she failed or passed, but he commanded her marriage and then did not do anything to stop me from taking her out of the capital almost immediately.”

“She saved his life?” Johnny repeated. “That’s the dark secret?”

“I’m guessing it’s the how that we’re not to know,” Francis said. He nodded. “All right. What do you want us to do?”

“I don’t know,” Jason admitted. “It’s possible the threat it is over, that Albany’s curiosity has been sated, but I cannot forget that someone sent men here to kidnap Elizabeth and bring her back alive. If they were willing to wait long enough to set that ambush, might they wait a year for me to take her into Perth? Or if Albany was behind this—will he command me to bring her to court?”

“Well, with the babe, you can put off any travel,” Johnny pointed out. “No one is going to blink if you refuse to drag your wife across Scotland while she’s expecting.”

“I suppose it just matters how patient who ever set up that ambush is,” Francis said. “And you can’t tell us more than this?”

“No.”

“Well, at least the lass finally told you,” Johnny muttered. “What do you want us to do?”

“Milo is assigned to Elizabeth, but he’s still young. I’d like you to take over her protection. Just until the babe is born,” he added when Johnny grimaced.

“Aye. I’d rather you give me a job where I can crack some heads, but I’ll settle for protecting the next Morgan.”

“And me?” Francis asked.

“Albany knew something about Elizabeth and her family. If the Webbers are still in Edinburgh, then you can go to Annan and see if there’s something to know. Some connection between Albany and the father or just anything.” Jason shook his head. “I don’t know how to protect her, but I know that I can’t sit here and hope it’s over. I have to find a way to know for sure.”

“We’ll do whatever we can to keep her—and the babe safe,” Francis promised. “Right, Johnny?”

“Yeah, yeah. But when there’s someone to hit, let me in on it. I didn’t even get to fight the last time,” the man muttered as he headed for the door. “It’s embarrassing.”

Written in 58 minutes. Spell checked, but not reread for typos. And hey, I almost know what I’m doing with this story now. If I only I knew who the villain was! Alas, maybe next time I’ll figure it out, LOL.

---

It had stunned Elizabeth how easily Jason had accepted her secret and focused on what he considered to be the more important question — how did this secret explain the attack all those weeks ago?

Maybe he didn’t really understand what she told him, or considered it unimportant since she hadn’t had any flashes or visions since coming to Braegarie. She’d been relieved by that fact, of course, but it went without saying that she also worried about who had been behind the attack. Especially since she’d realized that the Duke of Albany must have known about her abilities when he’d sent for her.

Why send all the way to Annan in Dumfries for her only to send her to the Highlands? What had been the point? And Jason had been right — how could Albany have known she’d see the right poison?

There were too many questions with too few answers, and still her worry over Jason and her secret continued. He knew it now—but did he really understand?

“You have that look again,” Tracy snapped as she snapped her fingers in front of Elizabeth a few weeks later. “You need to pay attention if you’re going to be able to run this keep during the winter—”

“Aye, Aunt,” Elizabeth said. She cleared her throat. “I beg your pardon. I haven’t been sleeping well.”

“Well,” Tracy sniffed as she gestured at the storage room and the shelf of spices. “What did I just say about spices?”

“That I need to watch Cook very carefully to be sure she isn’t using more than the rationed amount because the spice merchant only comes to Perth in October,” Elizabeth recited dutifully. She clasped her hands behind her back. “And if we run out of salt, we will not be able to store the meat during the worst months.”

Tracy pursed her lips. “Good. Now—”

“I don’t know why you’re spending all this time learning how to run the keep,” Johnny said from his position lounging at a long table in the kitchen, an apple in his hand. “Tracy will outlive us all.”

Tracy turned to glare at the man who now dogged Elizabeth’s every step. The sweet, but gullible Milo who could be convinced to stay in the Great Hall while Elizabeth and Tracy did their daily walk through of the keep had been replaced by the surly Irishman who had only just barely decided Elizabeth was worthy of the laird

He sulked and simmered as he slunk behind them all day, and it was wearing on Elizabeth’s good nature—and Tracy looked as though this was the day she might finally do murder

“John O’Brien,” Tracy declared. “Do you think you’re too grown for me to take a switch to your backside?”

Johnny studied the older woman carefully, and must have decided he’d pushed her too far. “No, I do not. Carry on.”

“We’ll work on the linens next,” Tracy told Elizabeth. “I want you to know how we manage the seamstresses—”

“Thrilling,” Johnny muttered, getting to his feet. Tracy sneered at him, and the two of them bickered as Elizabeth trailed behind them, exhausted beyond the measure.

—

“He’s insufferable,” Elizabeth muttered as she brushed out her hair that evening. She sat on the bed and glared at her husband as he stood by the fire, his arms crossed, with narrowed eyes. “I’m sorry for locking him in the closet, but surely, he doesn’t need to follow Tracy and I everywhere—”

“He does.”

“But—”

“If something happens to you while he’s locked up—” Jason shook his head. “I’ll talk to him about his attitude—”

“If I didn’t put him in that closet,” Elizabeth told him, “then I think your aunt was going to shove him out a window. He doesn’t just complain all day, he—” She pressed her lips together, then sighed. “Never mind.”

“Elizabeth.”

“He mocks our work. Demeans it! He seems to think that it’s easy to run the keep or that—” Elizabeth got to her feet to place her brush back on top of her trunk with a grimace. “It’s just…I’m trying very hard to learn everything Tracy is teaching me, and Johnny makes it harder.”

“I’ll talk to him,” Jason repeated. “But you’ve only been here three months—you don’t need to learn everything right away—” Immediately, he knew he’d said something wrong as his wife gasped, looked horrified.

“Of course I do! What if something happens to Tracy? What if she falls ill? She might,” Elizabeth insisted when Jason looked doubtful. “She told me she’s been after you to get married for years. Do you think she wants to do everything everyday? It’s exhausting. She’s trying to teach me everything so we can split the duties and make both our lives easier. At least while she’s able.”

Well, that made some sense, but he still didn’t like how tired Elizabeth looked or how she seemed to be going from dawn until dusk—Johnny had been complaining to Jason as well—

“Tracy drags the lass into every corner of the keep every morning,” he’d told Jason that evening as Jason had let him out of the linen closet where Elizabeth had locked him up. “She’s up too something—”

“You should be resting more,” Jason told his wife. “Barbara said it was important—”

“I do rest—”

“But—” Jason stopped when she just glared at him. “I just want you to be well,” he said finally, hoping that would make her less irritated with him. He never seemed to say anything right these days— “‘Tis not just your health at stake—”

“And now I’m a terrible mother,” Elizabeth muttered as she stalked over to the bed, and drew back the fur to climb underneath. “Do you think I forgot about the babe? I can hardly keep a morsel of food in my belly—”

“I’m going to stop talking,” Jason decided. He sat down next to her, waiting—hoping—she’d turn back to look at him. She did and sighed.

“I’m sorry. I’ve been very prickly tonight, aren’t I?” Elizabeth said. She sat up. “I know you’re worried about me. About the babe. And whatever is out there that might want to hurt me. I know Johnny will keep me safe. I shouldn’t have locked him in the closet.”

“Knowing Johnny,” Jason said slowly, “he likely deserved it. How did you convince him to go into the closet?”

“Oh. I asked him to get something off the top shelf. It was easy.” She smiled at him and that relieved him. “It was Tracy’s idea.”

“I can imagine.” He paused. “I just want you to be safe.”

“Because of the babe. I’m doing—”

“Not because—well, yes, because we both want the babe to be born healthy,” Jason said, “but Johnny’s with you because I want you to be safe.”

“Oh.” She bit her lip. “Well, I don’t want to have to climb any trees,” she admitted, “so I’ll try harder to get along with him. But he needs to respect the work we do here. It’s not brandishing a club or whatever you take into battle—” she added when he laughed, “but it keeps you fed and cared for.”

“You’re right. I’ll talk to him.” He leaned forward to kiss her gently, putting two fingers under her chin to lift her mouth to meet his. “Are you too…tired?”

“Not at all.” Elizabeth pushed the furs aside and pulled him closer.

It was in the deepest, darkest part of the night when her mind betrayed her. She’d slid abruptly from a lovely, sweet dream where she was sitting by a stream, laughing as Jason and a small boy with blonde hair stood in the stream into a nightmare.

“Look, Mama! Mama! Da’s teachin’ me to swim!”

“Careful!” Elizabeth called back, smiling as Jason wrapped his arms around their son to hold him steady in the water. At barely three, he was eager to do everything his father did—even if he couldn’t quite keep up.

She looked away from the sight down at the basket next to her where her infant son slept peacefully. She ran a finger down his soft cheek, smiling as his mouth curved and he turned his cheek towards her hand.

“Mama! Mama!”

The laughter had turned into a terrified shriek and Elizabeth jerked her head back to the stream—Jason had vanished and her son was screaming for her as the currents swept him away.

“Cameron!” Elizabeth cried, jumping to her feet. “Jason!” She darted towards the stream but her beloved, her precious—they were gone—

She whirled around to snatch up her other son, to take baby Jake to safety so she could get to the keep—

But the basket with her baby was gone. It had vanished.

So had the stream, and the grass beneath her feet. The blue skies and the fluffy clouds had slid into inky darkness, and the ground beneath her was even rocky—

She was running, she was running so fast her lungs were burning and still she knew she couldn’t get away—they were going to find her—they were going to take her—she wasn’t going to be able to get away—they would find her and take her sons—

Her foot caught on a root and she went flying—waves of pain vibrating up her leg as Elizabeth tried to get to her feet, planting the palms of her hands against the ground, trying to raise herself up—

The moment she put weight on her ankle, she cried out—and then hissed, because now they’d find her—now they’d know—now they’d—

“Did you really think you could run—”

Elizabeth rolled over on her back, her eyes wide as she saw the face—heard the voice of the man who who had been pursuing her—who had tried to take everything from her—

“Why?” she choked out. “Why are you doing this?”

The man knelt beside her, took Elizabeth’s chin in his hand, his fingers digging into her skin. “Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.”

He gripped her forearm and dragged her to her feet, thrusting her at one of the other men pursuing her. “Prepare the pyre. She burns at dawn—”

“Elizabeth—wake up!”

Elizabeth’s eyes opened at the sound of Jason’s voice, her chest heaving, her lungs burning—she scrambled away from him—falling over the side of the bed—but still she couldn’t stop—she couldn’t clear mind—get away—get away—they’re going to burn me—

“Elizabeth—no one is going to—”

She was crawling across the floor, the hem of her night dress catching on the corner of the bedpost as she tried to reach the door—get away—have—

Elizabeth threw herself against the door, sobbing—have to get away—find her babies—they stole—

A candle flame lit the room partially, then a second, as Jason hurried to light anything he could find—

Elizabeth blinked at the light, then stared down at her hands, expecting to find them stained with the dirt—she’d tried to grab at the dirt as the man had pulled her up—she’d fought them as they tied her to pyre—

The flames licking at her feet—the heat—

“Oh, God, oh, God—”

Her hands were clean. Not a speck of dirt.

It had been a dream.

“Elizabeth—” Jason took her by the shoulders. “Can you hear me? What happened? What did you see?”

Elizabeth raised her eyes to his, opened her mouth but then shook her head. “I can’t. I can’t. Don’t make me—”

“All right, okay.” Jason led her sit on the edge of the bed while he started a fire in the hearth, lighting the room even more. He’d lit every candle—every torch—it was brighter in their room than it was the day.

When the fire was roaring, he scooped her up in his arms and brought her over to one of the chairs, sitting down, keeping her in his lap. She curled up in his embrace, and closed her eyes, listening to his soothing voice remind her that everything was okay.

She didn’t know how long she sat there, her head against his chest, leaning to the beat of his heart before he spoke again. “Can you talk yet?”

“I—don’t know how much if it is the dream,” she said softly. “Sometimes I just dream and it’s not a vision. We were a family. You were teaching our son to swim, and I was watching. I could—I think it must have been a vision. It felt so real.”

Jason pressed his lips to her forehead. “Our son? Like the other vision?”

“Aye. We’ll have two. Cameron is the eldest, and Jacob. He was an infant. I looked away for a minute, and Cameron screamed for me—when I looked back—” She closed her eyes. “You were both again—I went to the stream—and then Jacob—Jake was—he was gone. You’d all vanished. Then it was night, and I was running, but they caught me.”

“Who caught you?” Jason murmured. “Who was it? Did you see?”

“No. I knew him in the vision, but I’ve never seen his face before. Or heard his voice. And he—” Elizabeth looked at him. “He burned me at the stake. I saw my death, Jason. He’s going to kill me.”

Written in 60 minutes. No time for spellcheck or reread.

---

I saw my death.

Hours later, long after he’d coaxed Elizabeth to lay down and at least try to get some rest, Jason hadn’t been able to get the words out of his head. To stop hearing the terror in her voice—to erase the image of her screaming in her sleep, trying to escape their room as if it were on fire—

Because in her dreams, it had been—

She’d been screaming the names of the children not yet born—what kind of curse had she been given to see the future, to feel it—only to see the worst of it?

He paced his solar that morning, angry that he couldn’t simply kill someone and take away the shadows in his wife’s eyes. She’d risen that morning, exhausted, but refusing to speak of her nightmarish vision. He’d hadn’t pushed it—

What would he say? How could he prepare against a foe neither of them could see?

“You seem more agitated than usual.” Johnny said with a frown. “Are you still angry with me? How I was to know she’d lock me in a closet—”

“You were offensive to her,” Jason snapped, happy to have someone to glare at. “I asked you protect her, not make comments about her work. Milo is taking over her protective detail while she’s in the keep—”

Johnny scowled, then shook his head. “No. I don’t believe you’re angry at me about this—you would have punched me. What is the problem—”

“Because last night I had a nightmare.”

They both turned and Jason blinked at his wife in the doorway, her arms folded protecting around her middle, dark circles digging grooves beneath her eyes.

“A nightmare,” Johnny echoed. He looked at Jason dubiously. “I dinnae ken. You’ve had one before, and Jason was fine—”

“Elizabeth, you don’t have to—”

“He’s your first, and he can’t protect you if we don’t tell him.” She lifted her chin, closed the door behind her. “What he does with the knowledge—I cannot control.”

“Tell me what?”

“I have visions,” Elizabeth said softly. “Of things that have not yet happened. ‘Tis how I saved the regent’s life. And last night, I dreamt that someone burned me at the stake.”

Johnny stared at her for a long moment, then turned questioning eyes to Jason who nodded. He returned to his gaze to Elizabeth. “‘Tis why you were acting strange during Beltane. I thought mayhap you had a relative who’d been taken up for a witch.”

“Close enough.” Elizabeth took a deep breath. “Will you keep my secret? At least until my babe is born—”

“I don’t see how this is anyone’s business.” Johnny shifted uncomfortably. “And you should not worry about being burned at the stake. Jason won’t let it happen.”

“I’m sure he’ll do his best,” Elizabeth said. She bit her lip. “You may tell Francis when he returns from wherever he’s been sent,” she told Jason. “But I was hoping we could speak.”

“Aye. Johnny—”

“I’ll be in the hall if you need me.” Johnny nodded to them both, then left the room, edging around Elizabeth warily. She closed her eyes, flinching.

“I’m sorry, maybe I shouldn’t have told him.”

“He’ll deal with it.” Jason strode towards her, taking her hand and leading her to the hearth, urging her to sit. “You should still be resting—”

“I was very—I was not myself last night, and I did not—I should have thanked you—”

He scowled, then crouched down to light a fire—there was a chill in the air, despite the summer months and he would not have her catching cold. “You don’t need to thank me—”

“Jason. Please look at me.”

He grimaced, then twisted to look up at her from his crouch. “I won’t let it happen.”

“I hope that’s true.” She reached for his hand and he gave it to her. “But I’ve been spent this morning trying to recall every piece of the dream, searching for anything that might help us identify the man in the dream. I know his face, Jason. I know his face. And one day, we will meet. Because I knew him in the vision.”

He nodded. “And I will make sure he never comes near you.”

“Aye.” Her smile was faint. “But do you know what I did remember from the dream that we can hold on to? I couldn’t be sure if the first part was real. Sometimes the visions blend into the dreams, and only pieces are true. But in the second part—when I was running through the night—I was running away, hoping to keep the men chasing me from my children. Two of them. Just like the first part. This isn’t going to happen for a long time, Jason.”

“How long?” Jason demanded.

“In my dream, this child—” She pressed a hand to her middle. “He was three. The second was an infant, maybe a few months. We have years, Jason. I don’t want to spend them living in fear of the day this man comes into our lives.”

Jason rose to his feet, and Elizabeth stood as well. “So you want me to forget?” he demanded. “Forget that one day, in three or four years, some man is going to try and kill you—”

“No.” She pressed her hand against his chest, against the beating of his heart. “No,” she repeated. “I will know this man when he comes. But this dream—the beginning—I think it was sent to me so that I know there will be joy. I have been so happy here. Whatever the regent had planned for me, he did not account for you.”

Jason searched her eyes, confused—her expression was clear, even hopeful. The woman he’d held him in his arms last night had been terrified, barely able to breath. “I want you to be safe here.”

“And I am safe. For now. Your aunt almost thinks I’m worthy of you,” she teased. “And most of the clan—at least those I’ve met—they’ve accepted me. And I’m going to be a mother. I never dreamed any of this would come true for me. I spent most of my life locked in a room hundreds of miles away, afraid that I would simply vanish into nothing. That I would never truly exist.”

“Is that what your father did to you?”

“After my mother died, aye. From the day after we put her into the ground until he received the summons from the regent, my entire life was the four walls of that room.”

Jason clenched his jaw—the point of what his wife was tring to tell him was not how unhappy her childhood had been, but it was hard to ignore the image of her wasting away like that. “You don’t want to live with me following you around and keeping you safe every day,” he sid slowly. “Because then I’d be no better than your father.”

“I would never say that,” Elizabeth said with a quick shake of her head. “He wanted me to disappear. You want me to be safe. I just—I want to live. Promise me. We’ll be on our guard, but we won’t let what I saw last night—what happened in the clearing all those months ago—we won’t let it ruin our future.”

He wasn’t sure he could keep that promise one hundred percent of the time, but if his wife wanted to concentrate on being happy, on caring for their family and building a home here—then he would make sure that she never had to worry about her safety again.

Jason would take on that worry for himself.

“Nothing is going to keep us from having that first part of your vision,” he told her. “Two sons. To start,” he added, and she smiled, leaning up to kiss him.

“Thank you,” she murmured against his mouth. “For accepting me.”

“Thank you for trusting me.” He tucked an errant curl behind her ear. “Now, will you please go rest?”

“Only if you come with me.”

——

Francis returned from his travels near the harvest, exhausted from trekking the length of Scotland from Elizabeth’s home in Annan, near the border, to weeks spent in Edinburgh.

“I’m sorry there’s no more to report,” Francis said with a shake of his head. He sipped his ale. “Most of the people in her village—they thought she’d died long ago. They were surprised to hear the lass had married. She’s not been seen since they buried her mother.”

Jason clenched his jaw. Elizabeth had said as much, but to know that even her own people that thought her dead and gone for years— “And her family are still in the capital?”

“The brother went home, but yes, her father and sister are still at court, hoping for a rich husband, I think.” Francis paused. “There’s no rumors about a power grab for Albany. He spent part of the summer in France—he only just returned just before I left. Most of the court was talking about the queen. They think she’s planning to leave the Angus—he’s seized some of her property.”

“Idiot,” Jason muttered. “But nothing about Elizabeth or her family?”

“Not a thing.” Francis waited a moment. “The people in Annan—I did learn that there were a spate of trouble around the time the lass’s mother died. A riding accident as she said, but there was a lot of witchcraft accusations for the next few years. Jeffrey Webber condemned six women to burn in three years.”

“Six—” Jason swallowed hard. “That’s a lot for one area—”

“Aye. It’s made the village a bit more hesitant to talk to a stranger, truth be told. It only ended the local church intervened. No one’s sure what started it, but it did seem to be the only thing out of the ordinary.”

Jason scrubbed his hands over his face. Had he put his wife in danger by sending Francis to her home? Was the man from Annan? They’d thought her dead but now they knew she wasn’t.

“You tell me that the lass sees the future,” Francis said, drawing Jason’s attention. “That her father knew about it. He likely wanted to be seen as being harsh on those suspected of witchcraft so that no one could point in his own household.”

“Maybe.”

“Whoever this man she saw in her dreams—she has the right of it. She’ll know him when she sees him,” Francis continued. “Concentrate on the future. The other one that she saw. She’ll safely deliver the bairn. That’s enough to be grateful for.”

——

Their son came early on a bitterly cold day six months later, just before February faded into March.

His aunt and Barbara had shoved him out of their bedchamber, Tracy proclaiming this was no place for men and that he should go about his day. They’d fetch him if he was needed.

Jason had bared his teeth at his aunt and growled, but she’d merely sniffed and slammed the door in his face. He could hear his wife’s screams from the solar down the hall, and he rejected all the ale that Johnny and Francis had offered him.

“Don’t know why any woman wants to be a mother,” Johnny muttered as another scream echoed in the night.

“Shut it,” Francis muttered. “Jason—”

“It’s been hours,” Jason said, striding towards the door, then turning back. “I should be in there.”

“To do what?” Johnny asked, frowning. “What do you know about having babes? All men are good for is the making of them. And then, ye know, we’ll teach the lad how to crack heads—”

Another scream cut off abruptly, and then there was silence. Jason scowled. “I’m going in.” He jerked open the door and strode down the hall to his bedchamber. Just as he was reaching for the handle, it opened and his aunt stood there, and there was the sound of a baby crying behind her.

“Oh. Good.” Tracy smiled broadly. “We’re cleaning up the lass now. You have a son—”

He moved past her to find Elizabeth laying back against the linens and furs, her face red and sweaty, her hair hanging in limp, damp strands around her face. She held a bundle in her arms as Barbara stepped away, her arms full of stained cloth.

Elizabeth looked up at his approach, her eyes bright with tears, her smile bright. “Jason. He’s here. Look at him—”

Jason could barely force a breath out of his lungs as he gingerly sat on the edge of the bed. She pulled back a piece of blanket covering the babe—and his face was as red as his mothers, his eyes scrunched up—his hand waving around, clenched in a fist. He let out another angry cry.

“He’s a bit disappointed in the outside world,” Elizabeth told Jason, stroking a finger down the babe’s cheek and he quieted at her touch. “‘Tis a cold Highland winter he’s been brought into.”

“He’ll get—” Jason took a deep breath. “He’ll get used to it.”

“Would you like to hold him?”

Yes— “He’s small,” Jason said, skeptically. “What if I drop him?”

“You won’t.” She held him out, and Jason hesitantly accepted the ridiculously light child into his arms.

“There’s—there’s nothing to him,” he said, confused. “I’ve held rocks that were heavier.” He looked down into his son’s face—when the babe cried against, Jason tried to touch his cheek the way Elizabeth had, but his finger wasn’t as soft and it didn’t help.

“He’s just a bit of a thing now, isn’t it? But he has a healthy set of lungs. Barbara, you said he was perfect, did you not?”

“Aye, healthy and as perfect a babe as I’ve ever delivered,” the healer announced proudly. “He’ll be a proper Morgan laird when the time comes.”

“Should you—” Helpless, Jason handed the baby back to her. As soon as he was back in his mother’s arms, the babe stopped crying, and Elizabeth laughed.

“That’s already. You’re just brand new, aren’t you, dearest? You’ll learn soon enough that the safest place to be is in Papa’s arms.” Elizabeth looked at him, her eyes shining with tears. “He’s so beautiful. I want to have a dozen more.”

“I—” He didn’t think he’d survive another birthing and he’d done nothing but sit down the hall and worry. “We’ll talk about it later.” Jason paused. “Are you sure you still want—”

“Aye. The child in my dreams—he was perfect. And he loved you so much. I could feel it. His name will be Cameron.”

Written in 62 minutes. No time for spellcheck.

---

Elizabeth lifted her son from his cradle and held him against her shoulder, gently rocking the infant as she swayed back and forth, hoping to settle his restless cries.

She’d barely been able sleep over the past three weeks—not just because Cameron rarely slept more a few hours at a time, but her own worry. Tracy had told her of the three children Jason’s mother had lost in infacy—a son and daughter before Jason’s birth and then one more son between Jason and his sister, Emily.

Three babes born that hadn’t seen their first birthday. And two of them, Tracy had said with real sorrow, had died within weeks. Some babes weren’t strong enough to survive. Since that discussion, Elizabeth had been afraid to take her eyes off her son. What if she missed his last breath? What if she missed the chance to help him?

“Father McKinnon has just finished his week at the Camerons.”

Elizabeth turned at the sound of her husband’s aunt and sighed in relief. “Then he’ll be here this Sunday. I want Cameron baptized.” The Camerons were the largest clan in this part of Scotland, and the Morgans had a marriage alliance with them through Jason’s mother. It was part of the reason Elizabeth had chosen the name for their son. Or at least, she thought it was the reason. It had been his name in her vision after all.

“Aye. ‘Tis a privilege to have a priest even once a month,” Tracy said as she strode across the room and reached for Cameron, frowning at Elizabeth. “You did not sleep again ast night?”

“Oh.” Elizabeth sighed. “No, not since Jason left for the Frasers.” She bit at her thumb and turned towards the windows. She’d grown used to Jason and his best warriors leaving to fight with allies against rival clans, but she always worried when he was gone.

“You need to stop fretting over Jason,” Tracy said as she bounced Cameron lightly and the baby coeed at her. “Highland men like fighting more than they like the comforts of home. They consider it a sin to die in their beds as old men.”

“I may have to live with it, but it does not meet I should ever accept it. Someone has to help Cameron grow into a strong Highland warrior.” Elizabeth smoothed her hand over the soft, downy fuzz of her son’s head, still marveling at his existence. She’d been so convinced she’d never have a family and now she had this perfect child, a wonderful husband, and—she eyed Tracy—a beloved curmudgeon. “I know it’s been a year, but I confess I still can’t get used to not having a priest in permanent residence.”

“Ah, well, being from the Lowlands, you’re practically English, and they’ve forgotten the Old Ways long ago,” Tracy said. She set Cameron back in Elizabeth’s arms. “He’s looking hungry.”

Her favorite part of the day. Elizabeth sat down in the chair by the fire and untucked her dress so that Cameron could eat. “No, my father didn’t set much store in the Old Ways,” she admitted. “He was very…dedicated to the Church.”

Tracy snorted as she took the seat across from Elizabeth. “Men often are. That’s how they tell themselves they have the power. God speaks to them, they say. And women are last in God’s life. The church fears the Old Ways.” She folded her arms. “You won’t see that attitude at Braegarie as long as a Morgan breathes. We still have the proper respect for the gifts that God has bestowed.”

“I…” Elizabeth bit her lip. “I haven’t seen much evidence of it. Beyond the marriages that aren’t blessed by a priest until Father MacKinnon arrives.”

“You likely don’t know what to look for. Barbara is a practitioner. Not much to her abilities—a gift for healing. For sensing the right treatments, for having a deft hand at the potions,” Tracy explained. “No, the ways are dying out. We don’t have many seers left. Not here in east. Emily writes that they still have some stalwarts in the Isles.”

“Seers.” Elizabeth’s heart began to beat a bit faster. “You mean people who can see the future.”

“Aye. It was never a common gift,” Tracy admitted. “The Camerons have a seer, but they keep it quiet. Some fools seem to think that it’s evidence of a witchcraft.” She snorted. “Ever since the Stewarts came to power and made an alliance with the French—” she sneered the word. “They’ve forgotten who they are.”

“Because the French king is very dedicated to the Pope,” Elizabeth said slowly. “I’ve heard the regent speak of his fondness for Paris. He spent time there before the king died and he was called home.”

“Aye, John Stewart is barely a Scot.” Tracy narrowed her eyes. “Why the interest in the Old Ways?”

“I—” Elizabeth’s words died in her throat. Tracy approved of her—but just barely. She’d survived a Highland winter and had birthed a son for Tracy’s beloved nephew. But that did not mean Jason’s aunt cared for her.

Still. “It’s very different from how I was raised. My father was very harsh with any women he believed to be witches,” Elizabeth said slowly. “He…had several burned at the stake.”

“Aye. The witchcraft trials have come to Sterling. Jason told me a woman burned at Beltane several springs ago—and the run you had on your way from Edinburgh. The witch finder—as if a man could spot an actual witch—” Tracy got to her feet. “I took a risk telling you about Barbara—”

“I would never—” Elizabeth shook her head. “Aunt, I promise. I would never—I—” She took a deep breath. “I ask because I—I think I am one of those—the seers,” she clarified. “I—I get visions. Of the future.”

Tracy pursed her lips, then settled back down in the chair. “Tell me.”

—

Jason returned from his battles alongside the Frasers only a day before Father MacKinnon was due to baptize their son and brought news with him.

“Albany is in Sterling,” Jason told Johnny who had been left behind to guard the keep and Jason’s family. He started up the stairs, expecting his first to follow him. He was eager to see his wife and son. He disliked being away from them and knew Elizabeth had trouble sleeping when he wasn’t with her.

“Why? I thought he’d go back to France and leave the queen to her business,” Johnny muttered. “Even if her business is the Angus.”

“Aye, well, she lost the right to her children with that marriage,” Jason reminded him. “And Albany had wait to for the council to give him the right—he’s in Sterling because that’s where Margaret is.”

He pushed open the door and grinned at the sight of Elizabeth at the heart, cradling their son in her arms. Then frowned, realized she was feeding Cameron and—he turned to face Johnny. “You’ll stay out here.”

“I’ve seen a woman feed—” Johnny protested, but Jason closed the bedroom door and greeted his aunt who stood to greet him.

“Johnny said things were well?” he asked her, then looked at Elizabeth for confirmation.

“Aye, the holding is as you left it,” Tracy said. She arched a brow. “Your wife has slept not a wink. You should see to that.” She paused and met his eyes. “And your mother would be proud of you.”

Frowning as his aunt left the room, Jason turned a bewildered expression to Elizabeth who had finished feeding Cameron and was getting to her feet. “What—”

“Tracy and I were discussing the Old Ways,” Elizabeth said. “And so…I told her.”

“You…” Jason was distracted when she put their son in his arms. Even after three weeks, it still felt like the first time. Cameron had grown since that first night—his face was starting to fill out and he opened his eyes more—but he was still no heavier than the claymore Jason wielded in battle.

In fact, on this recent journey, Jason had convinced himself that the child weighed less than his weapon. He understood his wife’s fears that something this fragile could not be strong enough to survive in this world.

“I wondered—when I told you what I could do—why it did not seem to concern you,” Elizabeth said. “You were surprised, but you didn’t…judge me. I was sure that you wouldn’t want to keep me.”

Jason scowled. “‘Tis your father who had you thinking things. Low Landers are scared everything.”

“Aye, that’s what Tracy said. She said we’ll still need to keep it to ourselves. The church is growing stronger. That’s very clear from what we saw in Sterling last spring.” Elizabeth sighed. “But it does feel better not having to keep the secret from you and Tracy. Or Johnny and Francis. Keeping it from you—I hated it.”

“It was only for a few months.” Jason shrugged it off, and then sat down—slowly, not wanting to jar his son who had dozed off in his arms. “And you were scared. I knew I had to make you feel safe, and I did.”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes, and he grinned at her. He untucked one hand from holding Cameron and reached for her, tugging her onto his knee. “We have a strong son,” he told her. “And I can see the circles under your eyes. We’ll get a maid in to see to Cameron at night so you can sleep—”

“Jason—”

“I worry for him, too,” he told her. “I remember the babe my parents lost before Emily was born. And how my mother grieved each loss.” He paused. “How my father grieved the loss of my mother when Emily was born. You need to keep your strength. You’re important to me, too.”

“I try not to feel scared,” Elizabeth murmured, leaning against Jason’s shoulder, tucking her head under his chin as they both looked at the miracle he held in his other arm. “I know my vision tells me he survives. That there’s another child in a year or two. But ’tis hard to remember that in the middle of the night,” she admitted.

And neither of them mentioned how that vision had begun by the disappearance of Jason and their sons. She had never been sure if it had been a metaphor or if there was something else to worry over.

“Albany is in Sterling,” he told Elizabeth. “He’s come to take the boys from Margaret.”

“The—” Elizabeth leaned up, frowing him. “James and Alexander? They’re just babes. Alexander is scarely weaned—and you told me Margaret was to have the Angus’s child. Why would he take children from their mother now?”

“Because James is the king,” Jason reminded her gently. “And Albany is the regent. He has the power to do so—”

“It’s barbaric,” Elizabeth muttered, “that he should have such power over her children. She brought those boys into the world. She should have the raising of them. Even if she did have the bad judgement to marry Archibald Douglas.” She narrowed her eyes. “What man do you think will take my son from me? I’ll see them dead first—”

“Things aren’t so strict in the Highlands,” Jason told her. “But aye, he needs a male legal guardian. A boy without one—the king could take control of him and the holding,” he admitted. “So I had to put some paperwork together. Johnny has the legal custody but he knows that Cameron stays with you.”

“And if he tried to take him from me—or Tracy—no one would ever find the body,” Elizabeth muttered. “This is the problem of letting men in charge of the world. Women do all the work and you lot just take.” She took a deep breath. “You’re telling me about Albany being in Sterling because this is the closest he’s been since we were in Edinburgh.”

“Aye. And if he was behind the kidnapping attempt last year,” Jason said, “I just think it’s best if we keep an eye on him. He might not care about of that. He’ll finish seiging Margaret, and take the boys back to Edinburgh where he has more loyal followers in the court.”

“He can’t make me leave, can he?” Elizabeth asked. “I’m your wife. Your legal property.”

“Which is the argument I’ll be making if he tries,” Jason told her. “Whatever plans he might have had for you, they were done the moment he chose me to marry you.” He leaned forward and kissed her gently. “I’ll keep you safe. I promise.”

“I know.” She edged back slightly with narrowed eyes. “But you’re just to make that argument to him, not anyone else.”

“I’m not fool enough to try it on you.” He kissed her again and she smiled against his lips. “We both know who holds the power here.” Cameron began to cry, and they both looked at the infant. Because of course, their lives revolved around their son now—he was the one in charhe.

—

“I take it from the look on your face you’re unhappy with the messenger,” Johnny said as he closed the solar door behind the man who had brought the scroll Jason held in his hands. “He said he’ll wait in the hall for the answer—”

“The answer is no,” Jason said, his tone clipped. “You can word it however you like, but I’ll not be bringing my wife anywhere near Sterling Castle or the Duke of Albany. The regent can go to hell.”

Johnny blinked. “He wants you to bring Elizabeth—she’s barely out of childbed—”

“Aye, well, Albany’s shown just how much care he has for a woman and her children, hasn’t he?” Jason muttered.

“I’ll give the message to the regent’s man, but this will upset Elizabeth. She’s only begun sleeping again at night.”

Jason scrubbed a hand over his face, then nodded. “I know. I won’t be telling her.”

“Jason—”

“I promised I’d keep her safe. She trusts me to do that. She doesn’t need all the details.”

Written in 60 minutes. No time for spell check or reread.

---

Less than three weeks after Jason returned from fighting alongside the Fraziers, the Camerons called for the help of the clan Morgan, and Jason had to, once again, leave his family behind in the keep under the protection of Johnny and several of his best men.

“You were spoiled the first year,” Tracy said on the third day of Jason’s absence when she sat down by the heart in the great hall. She reached for her pile of mending. “The Camerons and Frasiers were quiet.”

“I know. Jason said Highlanders like to fight,” Elizabeth grumbled as she bent over the tapestry she’d worked on most nights since Jason had left. They’d found a sweet maid to watch over Cameron for a few hours each night, and Jason had made her promise she’d spend more time sleeping and on her needlework.

She’d rather be in her room, watching her son breathe, making sure that he was safe, but the maid, Emma, was a loyal Morgan who wouldn’t let anything happen to the laird’s son.

“He’s fine.”

Elizabeth flushed. “You must think me silly. Jason had to force me to leave the room.”

“I think you are a new mother who listened to me too closely.” Tracy shifted, uncomfortable. “I should not have told you about his mother’s losses. You’ve taken it too closely to heart.”

Elizabeth forced herself not ot smile. “Aunt, are you admitting to a mistake?”

“No,” Tracy said flatly. “I am never wrong.” She sniffed. “Just merely remarking that perhaps that particular story was not well-suited to your dramatic nature.”

“Ah, that sounds right.” Elizabeth frowned when she saw some activity near the entrance to the great hall. Johnny glanced up from the table where he was sitting with some of the men and strode across the hall.

Tracy shifted in her seat, narrowing her eyes. “What on earth—it’s after the supper hour—”

Her heart began to pound. She’d taken Jason’s return for granted, so sure that he would best anyone in battle. What if he was hurt—or worse—No, no, she’d touched him as he’d left, assured herself of his safety—but her visions couldn’t always be depended on—

“What’s going on?” Tracy demanded. “Johnny O’Brien—”

Johnny flashed the older woman an irritated glare and waved her off before returning his attention to the men at the door. He nodded, said something that neither of them could hear.

“That insolent—” Tracy turned to Elizabeth. “Can’t you see what the problem is?”

“I require touch,” Elizabeth said softly. “And Jason should be coming home to us. I never would have let him leave—”

“I’m sorry,” Johnny said as he joined them by the fire. “That was a scout from the border. There’s…there’s a royal procession camping just outside our lands.” He looked at Elizabeth who clenched her hands her lap, beneath the cloth of her tapestry. “The scout said it was Albany’s colors.”

“Why would the regent be this far north? He should be taking the princes to Edinburgh.” Tracy scowled and resumed her seat. “Is this about the business you told me about? The attack near Carnwell Pass?”

“Aye. Jason thinks the regent was behind it, but we can’t imagine why. He sent for Jason to marry me. Why would he do that—”

“Well,” Johnny said, pitching his voice a bit lower so that none of the men could overhear them. “You came there under your father’s protection. You couldn’t have stayed at court without his permission. After the wedding, he wanted you brought to the court. Mayhap he thought Jason would leave you at court.”

“He was irritated at being forced into marriage without being told—” Elizabeth’s lips pressed together. “His Grace was quite insistent I not tell Jason. I was so scared that he’d proclaim me as a witch or he’d leave me behind if I did.”

“And Albany thought Jason would be angry enough at your refusal to leave you behind. Under his protection. And control.” Johnny shrugged. “Not so many seers left, lass. ‘Tis passed through inheritance, and most never admit to the powers.”

“But that still doesn’t—he can’t think I’ll leave with him willingly,” Elizabeth said, twisting her hands. “And I’m Jason’s wife—”

“Jason isn’t here. Albany will know of the Cameron and Frasier’s recent battles. He’s been in Sterling for weeks. Word would have traveled.” Johnny shook his head. “Don’t worry, lass. I’ve sent a rider for Jason. He’ll return—”

“But the battle isn’t done. He can’t turn his back on an ally—”

“The Cameron will understand,” Tracy cut in. “Highlanders have little love for the court or any puffed up arse who thinks to walk onto their land and take what’s theirs.”

“You’ll stay in the keep,” Johnny told Elizabeth. “Stick close to Cameron, and I’ll take care of the rest. Albany can’t force his way in.”

“I keep being told what he can’t do, but it doesn’t seem to have stopped him yet.” Elizabeth got to her feet. “Good night, Aunt. Johnny.”

Tracy watched her niece by marriage climb the steps before turning to Johnny with a scowl. “Jason is two days away, even by the fastest messenger. It’ll be nearly a week before he can be here. By then, that damned duke will have stormed the keep and forced her to go—”

“Jason left me to protect his family,” Johnny said darkly. “I’ll not let her go without a fight.”

“See that you don’t.”

—

By mid-morning the next day, all of the keep knew something was wrong. The scouts reported at the royal procession was drawing closer, and Elizabeth knew what Tracy and Johnny weren’t telling her — Jason wouldn’t be able to return home in time.

“Couldn’t you smuggle me out through one of the passages?” she asked Johnny when the first-in-command came to report the regent and his men were maybe two hours away. “You could tell him I went to visit my father—”

“And left your newborn son behind?” Johnny said. He shook his head. “He would just go to our allies—”

“Is that not what they’re for?” Tracy snapped. Johnny glared at her. “They can hide her at the Camerons, and then move her to the Frasiers. Eventually Jason will return—”

“Jason can call on the Camerons and Frasiers to hide his wife. I’m the bloody Irishman that barely knows Gaelic,” Johnny retorted. “You’d have me bring the royal court to their doorway without Jason’s knowledge?”

“Johnny—”

They turned to Gannon at the doorway. The younger warrior swallowed hard. “The regent and a small contingent—they’re traveling ahead of the procession. They’ll be here in less than an hour.”

Johnny’s scowl deepened, and he turned back to Elizabeth. “You stay in this room with the babe. Both of you,” he told Tracy who narrowed her eyes.

“Boy—”

Johnny didn’t stay to hear what Tracy would say next.

Elizabeth turned to look at her son. Her beloved, precious miracle. She traced a finger down his face. “There’s a woman in the village,” she said to Tracy. “She’ll be able to take over for me with the feeding. I made sure someone was able.”

“What fool thing—”

“He waited until he knew Jason wasn’t here. Until he knew the majority of Jason’s men were days away.” Elizabeth picked Cameron up and took him over to the hearth so she could sit with her son one more time and feed him. “He’ll lay seige to the keep.”

“Let him—”

“I made a promise to Jason that my secret would never bring harm to the clan.” Elizabeth stared down at Cameron. “I could never repay his kindness in making me a wife and mother by bringing destruction to the place he loves.” She looked at Tracy. “We’ll be under attack in hours. Albany has come ahead of the others to see if you’ll turn me over. I can save you all.”

“But—”

Maybe her vision had been just a nightmare. Maybe this babe would be all she had. There wouldn’t be another son, another year of this life—

“Would you sacrifice the clan to save yourself?” Elizabeth asked softly. She met Tracy’s eyes. “No. You would do the same, Aunt.”

“Jason will come after you,” Tracy told her, firmly.

“Aye, likely he will. And we’ll see what happens. But we don’t know what Albany wants of me or where he’ll bring me.” Her voice faltered. “Maybe I’ll be back and this will be just a story we tell the children one day.”

“Elizabeth—”

“You’ll look after my son, won’t you? And Jason. I know I don’t have to ask because you’re a Morgan and that’s what you do, but—” She cleared her throat. “I still need to ask. You had the raising of Jason, didn’t you?”

“That was his father, and he was a boy of ten by the time his mother passed—” Uncomfortable, Tracy began to pace the room. “But aye, I finished the job.”

“So I know you’ll look after my family. I love them. I should have—I should have told Jason that I loved him,” she admitted. “I was afraid. He never asked for any of this, and I didn’t want him to feel guilty for not feeling the same.”

“If you think my nephew isn’t stupid over you,” Tracy declared, “then I don’t see how you can call yourself a seer.”

Elizabeth laughed, but it was more of a choked sob. “I could never see for myself. I wish I could know that was true.”

“Then I’ll make sure he tells you when he comes to fetch you.”

Johnny hadn’t been able to keep the regent from coming into the keep. There had been a small scufffle at the front gates, but the Duke of Albany had easily gained entrance and within the hour, he was standing in the doorway of Elizabeth’s bedroom.

“Well, Lady Morgan, we meet again.” He flicked his eyes to Tracy. “Leave us.”

“No—”

“Tracy.” Elizabeth kissed her son then slowly set him in his aunt’s arms. “Take Cameron somewhere safe and remember what I said.”

Tracy grimaced, then looked at Albany. “When my nephew hears of this, I hope he puts your head on a pike.” She stalked out the door.

Albany watched her leave. “Amazing to think she never married,” he muttered, then turned his attention back to Elizabeth. “You know why I’m here.”

“To make me leave. I just don’t understand why.” Elizabeth laced her fingers together to keep them shaking. “You were the one who brought Jason to me. You arranged our marriage. Why do you not leave us to live our lives?”

“He was supposed to be so angry at my command and at your refusal to tell him the truth that he’d leave you in a pique of anger.” Albany wrinkled his nose. “These Highlanders never do anything the way I want them to. I left you alone for as long as I could, didn’t I? I even let you have time to have a son—”

“You gave me a whole hear,” Elizabeth said. “How kind of you,” she retorted.

“You could bring the brat with you if you like—”

“Morgans belong here.” Elizabeth lifted her chin. “What if I refuse to leave? Will you destroy the keep?”

“If you refuse to leave with me now,” Albany said, his voice low and hard, “not only will I raze this holding to the ground, but I will make sure that all who live here know you to be a witch.”

Elizabeth’s heart began to beat a bit faster. “They practice the Old Ways,” she said softly.

“Do they? Every single one of them?” Albany raised a brow. “You are willing to take that risk? To destroy the land your husband holds so dear? I can do more than destroy this ragged keep, my lady. Do you want to ask the queen what I’m capable of?”

“No.” Elizabeth took a deep breath. “No. I just wanted to know how evil you truly were. How did you know what I was capable of? Because you knew before I came to court.”

“I sent for you, my dear.” Albany reached for her arm and started to drag her towards the door. “Your mother was a dear, distant cousin, and I knew of her curse. I knew it traveled in the blood, and once I learned your father had hidden his youngest daughter away—well, it wasn’t that difficult. Satisfied?”

“My husband will come for me.”

“I hope, for your sake, that’s not true. Because it would be a shame for you to be the reason his clan was disbanded and he was executed for treason,” Albany hissed in her ear as he tugged her down the stairs. “Be grateful for the year I’ve let you have. You belong to me now. And he’ll replace you before the first snow falls.”