3

“Will ye stand up, lass?” asked the older woman with a kindly smile.

Trembling, Brenna got to her feet, leaving the Maclaren plaid on the bed as she walked over to stand in front of the apothecary. She’d been treated a few times by Walstone’s apothecary, and she dreaded some of the techniques the man employed, including bloodletting.

She braced herself for whatever the woman might do, but she was surprised when all Agnes did was run a hand from the top of her head down to her feet before standing up again. “Ye appear relatively uninjured, save for a strain in yer side. A little rest will resolve that, though I recommend a hot bath to help as well. I shall order one for ye.”

Brenna frowned. “Why are you being so considerate to me?”

The woman tilted her head slightly. “I’m sorry, lass, but I cannae understand yer English so well. I have a sense of what ye are trying to tell me, but it is not one of my better gifts. Can ye speak more slowly?”

Brenna nodded and repeated the question in a slower fashion.

Agnes nodded then, indicating she had understood this time. “I see no point in being cruel to ye. Ye have been the tool of the enemy, but that does not make ye the enemy.”

“You know what I am?” asked Brenna.

“The laird said ye were a Seer, so I can only infer ye must be the Bloodiest Eye.”

Brenna lifted a hand to wipe her face, finding no evidence of blood. “I do not understand.”

“That is what they call ye here. The Bloodiest Eye. Yer reputation is fearsome and strikes fear into the hearts of men. All the shifters know what ye are capable of, so the fear is warranted, but I suspect they do not know of yer suffering.” As she spoke, Agnes brushed her hand down Brenna’s back in a sympathetic way.

Brenna gritted her teeth as flares of pain shot through her. They were old memories of the whip biting into her back on separate occasions, but Agnes’s light probing of them brought it all back with sharp and vivid clarity. “I did not like to cooperate with him, particularly in the beginning. I do not appreciate him using my Sight to plan better ways to kill.” Her voice shook.

“Aye,” said Agnes. She turned away then, packing the bottles back in her valise. “I have no remedies that ye need, but I shall send up a bath and deliver a full report to the laird.” She looked discreetly at the bottle on the table she’d left behind. “I’d suggest ye take that before his return. It needs time to work.”

She frowned as she looked at it. “What is that?”

“Contraceptive. Ye do not want a baby with the laird, I take it? Yet, he must take yer power, must he not?” Agnes winked at her before slipping away without another word.

Brenna eyed it doubtfully, but when she closed her eyes for a moment, focusing her inner eye, she could quickly see images of the laird’s hand moving over her body in a gentle fashion, and she was convinced she was having a vision rather than indulging in a fantasy.

She quickly scooped up the bottle, removed the stopper, and chugged the potion. It tasted foul, but there was a faint hint of mint that helped overlay the bitterness of the pennyroyal and whatever else the apothecary had infused into the solution.

Then she started to pace, somewhat surprised when a copper tub appeared almost an hour later, followed by a brigade of household servants carrying buckets of hot water. She knew the apothecary had planned to order one, but she was still surprised that any of the Scottish people had bothered to comply or see to her comfort. She gave them all a big smile in thanks, but she noticed none of them really looked at her, which left her feeling sad.

Since being forced to leave her parents and sister, she had never enjoyed the closeness of a friendship and companionship again. How she missed her sister. Lianne was far away, and she had no way to reach her, though she knew from previous visions her sister was still alive.

Their father had been killed trying to prevent Walstone’s men from taking her, and Brenna also knew from her powers that her mother had died from a Scottish curse on their borderland village years before. She was alone in the world save Lianne, and it would’ve been nice to have one friend. At least Agnes didn’t seem completely hostile to her, and she was thankful for that as she settled into the water.

She’d barely been in there for a few minutes before the door opened again, and the laird returned. She looked up at Cameron with her mouth dry, uncertain if she should reach for the length of cloth draped over a chair nearby to cover herself, or if she was adequately covered in the tub. He didn’t move closer to start with, but he still stared at her for a long moment.

“Show me your back,” he said after a long pause.

Brenna was embarrassed by the state of it, and she shook her head. She didn’t want anyone to see her scars.

“Show me. Agnes tells me they are there, but I need to see for myself.”

There was a note of command in his tone that made it impossible to ignore, so with a small sob, she turned slightly in the tub to reveal her back to him.

“Holy mother...” With a sound of sympathy, yet underscored with scorching anger, he strode across the room. One of his large hands covered her upper back, and his thumb glided along the groove of one of her scars. “Walstone did this to you?” He sounded capable of murder.

She nodded, allowing her hair to obscure her face. She’d taken it out of the braid just moments before, and now it helped hide her shame, both from her physical state and that she had capitulated and became Walstone’s Seer to save herself.

“You must have suffered, lass.” His hand was still gentle as it traced the line of scars down her back. “If I had him before me, I would rip his head off.”

She pushed aside the swath of hair to look up at him, craning her head to do so. “I think I would rather see you transform into your dragon, Laird, and rip him limb from limb with your sharp claws.”

He seemed shocked for a moment, and then he chuckled. “I do not doubt you would enjoy that show. Have you ever seen a man shift?”

She shook her head. “I have not. I have heard of it, but I have never been in the battles, though I’ve had visions that involved dragons before. I have never seen a man shift to any form though.” She licked her lips, wondering if he would offer to demonstrate for her.

“Perhaps I shall show you sometime.”

“You are going to let me stay?” She eyed him with trepidation, certain she knew the only way he would allow her to remain—and also certain it would be no sacrifice on her part.

“I have given it thought, and I cannae return you to Walstone, both because of what he has done to you, and how he would use you to hurt us. It feels wrong to be thinking of taking your virtue under these circumstances though. There must be another way?”

She quickly shook her head. “There is not. If you wish to stop my Sight, it must be done.” Taking a deep breath, she stood up from the hot water and stepped out onto the rug near the blazing fireplace. It felt good as it warmed her skin, and she turned to face him as she pushed back her hair, not wanting to obscure the view. She wanted to tempt him, and though she knew this was madness, it was what she wanted more than anything. “I ask you to help me, Laird Balfour. Allow me to escape Walstone’s interest.”

He closed his eyes, looking dismayed. “This is not right.”

She stepped closer, hesitantly reaching for his belt. He stiffened, and his eyes opened, but he didn’t jerk away from her when she started undoing the loops and pulling the leather strap away from itself. Once it fell to the floor, his plaid dropped open, still shielding him, but without structure.

Her hand shook as she reached for the soft woolen fabric, pushing it aside to reveal the dragonmark on his right shoulder. There was not a twin entwined with it, so he was unmated. She didn’t know how the claiming happened, but she knew mated shifters had entwined marks. She breathed a sigh of relief, for if he’d been with another woman, she would have immediately abandoned this plan and tried to find a different way to persuade him to help her, or at least not keep her confined.

“Brenna, I would spare you this.”

She shook her head. “You are sparing me nothing, Cameron.” She said his name in a husky tone that made his eyes widen and his nostrils flare. “Can you not see that I want this?” She lifted his hand and placed it on her breast, where he quickly engulfed the globe and started to knead gently. His fingers tugged lightly on her nipple, and she gasped at the sensation. She’d never felt anything like it before, and it created pulsing waves of pleasure between her legs.

“It takes a stronger man than me to refuse such a gift,” said the laird with a groan as he bent his head, pulling her into his arms and lifting her to carry her to the bed. She was still damp from her bath, but neither paid any mind as he came down with her, losing his plaid in the process, and they were both bare, skin to skin.

His mouth consumed hers, and she opened her lips in a welcoming gesture. Though she didn’t know him, and her Sight had never given her the gift of seeing this outcome, she wanted him more than she could explain. She was going purely on instinct, and it was demanding that only this man could soothe the deep ache and loneliness inside her.

She let her hands roam over his biceps and the smooth plains of his back, keeping her mouth soft under his as his lip press to hers, and his tongue surged into her mouth. He tasted every nook and cranny of her, and she opened herself to the experience, stroking her tongue against his whenever she had the chance.

The kiss must’ve lasted forever, for her head felt light, and she was forced to draw in several deep breaths when he finally broke it with a groan. He wasn’t done with her though. His mouth swept down the length of her neck, nibbling lightly before pausing at her right shoulder.

She tensed slightly, understanding the significance of the place. It was the spot where a shifter would claim his mate, where his mark would appear on her, and her mark would appear on him. She wondered if all shifters were generally drawn to the spot, or if he was genuinely considering the idea of marking her as his.

It was far too soon, and they barely knew each other. She dismissed that as a foolish notion, especially when his mouth continued on after a slight hesitation, venturing first to her right breast to pay special attention to that nipple before gliding across to treat the left one in a similar fashion.

She moaned and arched her back as he sucked on her nipple while one of his hands stroked her stomach, going lower. When it covered the warmth of her mound, she trembled at the touch, her cream leaking from her in copious amounts as his fingers lightly probed her opening.

“No man has touched you here?” he asked as he lifted his head from her breast.

She shook her head. “Walstone tried once, but I reminded him that taking my virtue would be the end of my power, so he stopped himself.” She trembled as she closed her eyes. “I am aware of the way he looks at me though. If and when he decides he no longer needs me as his Seer, I’m certain he will take everything from me then.”

He growled low in his throat, and his anger was a strange panacea. “I shall not allow that, lass.”

She opened her eyes to look into his, gasping softly as his fingers surged into her, filling her sheath and gently loosening it as he started to stroke her in a tender fashion. “I would like to believe that, Cameron, but I am not certain anyone can protect me from Walstone.”

“After this deed is done, he will no longer want you, as you said.”

She closed her eyes to hide her guilt, not wanting him to realize the extent of her deception. “I do not know if he will completely give up on me, or if his interest in me will change.”

“He shall never lay hands upon you again.” As he spoke, his fingers surged more firmly inside her, pushing to the barrier of her innocence. “I could just take it this way, if you prefer?” He sounded like it pained him to make the offer.

Brenna opened her eyes again to look at Cameron, who seemed strained in his need for self-control. “I suppose you could, but that is not my wish, Cameron. I want you to be my first lover. You have no idea how much I hate the gift of Sight.” There was no artifice in that, for she hated it being turned into a weapon.

To her knowledge, it had never been used for good since manifesting at a young age. Once word had spread of her talents, it had ostracized her in her village, for many of the people there distrusted witches and witchcraft, and then it had brought the local lord into her life, ending her father’s in the process.

“If it is your sincere desire, I will not deny you. I still feel like I am taking advantage of you, lass.” He sounded grim. “I am in no position to take a mate, and she could never be an Englishwoman if I did.”

She forced herself to meet his gaze, trying to suppress revealing how much his words bothered her, though she knew they were naught but the truth. “I understand that, Cameron. I know this is but one time only, and I understand the reasons for it, and I still desire you to be the one to do it. Will you?”

“Aye, lass. Heaven help me, but I will.”

She expected him to do the deed then, to get it over with, but instead, Cameron scooted down the bed, parting her legs wider so he could take a position between them. Her eyes widened with shock when his mouth neared her core, and she frowned. “What are you doing?”

“If it shall be just the once, I wish for it to be enjoyable and the most memorable experience of your life, little English witch.” The words sounded more like an endearment than an insult.

She trembled at the affection in his tone, and then she trembled anew at the first touch of his tongue inside her mound. He licked her slit, slowly and carefully to start with, before swiping more forcefully as his tongue moved between her opening and the firm little bud that revealed such pleasure each time he touched it with the tip of his tongue.

Brenna curled her fingers into his long auburn locks, using it to anchor herself as his mouth took her to heights she had never imagined. She shrieked under the force of the pleasure as it built and built inside her. She was certain there was something impending, almost like an apocalypse, but when the climax hit her, it was nothing but pleasure.

For a moment, it wiped away all sense of existence and awareness, making everything dark before bright colors exploded behind her eyes. It was a similar sensation to the one she’d experienced when standing before him on the steps of the keep earlier in the night, but far more intense, and only delight. Could one die from such ecstasy? As she entertained the idea, she was certain she wouldn’t care if she did. It would have been worth every moment.

Slowly, the world started to right itself around her, but she was still lost in the aftereffects of the pleasure he’d given her, so she was only vaguely aware of him repositioning her again, at least until she felt the head of his erection pressing into her opening. Her eyes were already wide-open, but she found it possible to focus again as she met his gaze.

She experienced a hint of fear, but the confidence and bliss in his own expression did away with much of that. As he surged inside her, there was a quick flair of pain that was soon gone, almost like it had never existed at all. Each thrust inside her brought her ever closer to that pleasurable loss of control she had just experienced for the first time moments before.

He was clearly on the cusp as well. When she dug her fingernails into his buttocks, holding him tightly against her, he grunted his pleasure and said her name in a garbled fashion that was barely recognizable through his passion.

“Please, Cameron,” she said with a lilting cry, needing to feel that connection with him and wanting more of that insane rush of pleasure.

“Brenna, my little witch.” With those hoarse words, he surged as deeply inside her as he could, cupping her buttocks in his hands while he spilled himself inside her. It was exactly what she needed to trigger another round of convulsions as well, and that same blissful pleasure swept over her, though perhaps not quite as intensely this time. She was aware enough that the world continued on around her, unlike the first experience, where everything seemed to have completely stopped for that one instant.

As he collapsed against her, a vision entered her mind. It was something simple, just her scrubbing an iron pot with a brush, but she knew it was a vision instead of just her imagination. Though it revealed something mundane, it was a glimpse of her future.

Of course, his taking her virtue hadn’t taken her power. She’d known it wouldn’t, because it was a myth women like her had spread for generations to protect themselves from the predation of men. It was bad enough to be taken and used for their power. Spreading the lie that taking their virginity removed their powers was the only way many of them had of protecting themselves from full debasement.

She felt guilt again as she considered she had led him to believe that him taking her virtue would rob her of her gift of Sight. It had been the only solution she could think of then, and it still seemed like the most logical one now, provided she could hide her gifts. As a younger girl, she didn’t manage to do so, not obtaining the necessary level of mastery, but she’d had years to perfect and hone her control.

She was more confident she could hide any of her unwanted visions as long as she was with the Balfours. She didn’t know how long that would be, but she had a feeling the pot-scrubbing vision related to her future here. It didn’t sound at all exciting, and it was likely to be rather tedious, but she found herself looking forward to that. After the life she had led the last eleven years as Walstone’s prisoner and forced Seer, mundanity was far more appealing than others might understand.

She tried to convince herself that was enough, reminding herself there would be no more nights like this even as Cameron crawled up behind her, taking her into his arms. This was a onetime event, and he believed he had u done it simply to strip her of her power and give her some pleasure.

That he had been such a tender and considerate lover would have to be enough succor to her when she remembered this night and longed for more. She was certain she would continuously yearn for the laird’s touch, but she was also realistic enough to take him at his word when he said he could never take a woman like her as a mate. This would be the only night she had with him, and she intended to take full advantage of it.

With that thought in mind, she turned in his arms again, soon enticing him to a second round. Later in the night, he reached for her once more, giving her such intense pleasure she wasn’t certain she would survive it.

She was doubly let down when she woke the next morning alone, faint light filtering through the stained-glass window and onto the four-post bed well enough to illuminate she was completely alone. That had been her life until now, and it would continue to be so, but suddenly, it seemed far harder to deal with than it had before her night with Laird Balfour.