Highland Sinner (25 page)

“I dinnae think ye will be here for three long years, Tormand.”

“Nay? Is that a prophecy or just a hope?”

“It is a verra strong feeling that this will soon end, that those monsters who are taking such delight in murdering people will soon be found and punished.”

“I believe I will accept it as a prophecy.” He tugged her nightgown over her head and tossed it aside, enjoying the blush that covered her face. “I will also count my blessings.”

“Which are?”

“I have a comfortable place to hide and a soft woman sharing it with me. Two things my poor brother didnae have.”

“Lucky you.”

“Verra lucky me,” he murmured, as he shed his clothes and returned to her welcoming arms. “Verra lucky me, indeed.”

Morainn was just about to tell him that she was not just another soft woman like so many others he had known, when he kissed her, smothering her scolding words. She was soon swept up in the passion he could so easily stir inside of her and forgot her complaint. The heat of desire burned away all the dark memories the sight of an angry crowd had brought into her mind. His lovemaking soothed her fears, desire pushing it away as her body and heart gave itself over to the magic of his kisses and caresses.

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Sated and drowsy, Tormand held Morainn close to his side. She had fallen asleep right after their lovemaking had ended in sweet satisfaction for both of them. The fact that he still hungered for her, that that hunger grew instead of diminished, told him a lot about how he felt about her; he was just not sure he wanted to listen.

Once the killers were caught and hanged, he would look more closely at what he felt and needed from Morainn, he promised himself. There was time after their troubles were over to delve into such things as emotions and needs. He closed his eyes and smiled a little. For now he would just enjoy the bone-deep pleasure he found in her arms and savor the feeling of having his every need and hunger satisfied as they had never been satisfied before. It was the one thing that would make hiding from his enemies instead of fighting them more a gift than a penance.

Chapter 14

Tormand bolted upright in bed as a scream shattered the peace of the night. A small foot kicked him hard in the leg and he turned toward Morainn. She was thrashing around on the bed as if she was fighting someone, or someone was hurting her. As he reached for her, tensed for the battle he was about to enter, Tormand thought of yet another reason they had to catch the murderers as quickly as possible.

Morainn needed a peaceful night’s sleep, one where nightmares did not have her seeing butchered women or fighting unseen demons in her dreams. He hated to see her so tormented. She should be doing no more at night than making love to him or sleeping sweetly in his arms.

“Wake now, loving,” he said, as he tried to wrestle her down onto the bed and pin her there with his body before she hurt herself or him. “’Tis naught but a dream, Morainn. Only a dream. No one is hurting ye. No need is there to fight. Come back to me, sweet witch. Come back.”

As before, the sound of his voice calmed her and she went still beneath him. Tormand eased his grip on her just a little and watched as her eyes slowly fluttered open. For a brief moment there was only confusion in her eyes, and then she recognized who held her down. Her smile was true and sweet and he felt the power of it deep in his soul. He had the fleeting thought that he would be willing to see that smile every day for the rest of his life, but quickly shook it away.

The smile did not last long. Memories of the horrors she had seen in her dream quickly leeched all the color from her skin and put the glint of fear in her eyes. It had obviously been a very bad dream this time and he moved quickly to fetch her a tankard of cool cider.

Morainn took a deep drink of the cider Tormand served her, as he crawled back into bed at her side.

She supposed she should count herself lucky. Four nights had passed since she had had a dream about the killers they could not seem to catch. Unfortunately, this one had been so much worse than the last one, she had to wonder if a respite from the dreams was a good thing or not. Rest only seemed to make the dreams stronger and more frightening.

There were also things she had seen and heard in this dream that she felt it would be wise to keep to herself. Tormand was determined to protect her, to keep her safe from the ones hunting her simply because she was helping him. If he knew she had just dreamed of her own death he would probably lock her up somewhere and encircle her prison with big well-armed men. He would also put himself at risk in his attempts to keep her out of danger and that she could not allow.

“It was bad one,” she said finally, giving in to the need to tell him something as he sat there so patiently watching her.

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“Aye, I could see that clear enough.” He put his arm around her and held her close against his side. “Ye looked as if ye were fighting pain or an enemy. Nay just thrashing about as ye did before, but actually struggling against something or someone.”

She dared not look him in the eye for she was certain he would see the truth in hers. He had guessed part of what she had endured while caught in the dream all too correctly and she doubted she could fully hide the shock she felt over that. Morainn could still feel the bindings on her wrists and ankles. The only thing that kept her from curling up beneath the blanket and screaming in terror was the knowledge that her dream did not have to be an accurate foretelling. As for Tormand’s insight into what she may have been dreaming about, she suspected that he gained it from living in a family that had a lot of people with gifts.

At the moment she would almost prefer that he did not believe in her gift at all, even scorned her claims of dreams and visions.

“I dreamed there would be another killing verra soon,” she said quietly, hoping she could tell him all the things she had seen that might help them catch those monsters, without telling him exactly who those monsters planned to kill next. She was going to have to dance around the truth very carefully or his suspicions would be raised and he would start pressing her for answers she did not wish to give him. “’

Tis as though the madwoman is in a frenzy, as if she has gained a taste for blood, for the pain she can cause, for the power she wields as she decides who will live and who will die.”

“Simon expressed a concern about that happening and I have to believe it might be possible. I fear the mon has seen more than his share of madness and evil, so what he says carries a lot of weight.” Taking her empty tankard from her hand and setting it aside, he wrapped his other arm around her and held her close to his chest. “Such evil must be a torment for ye to see, especially in your dreams. Dreams should be of bonnie things, nay blood and death.”

“Until this stops, I fear mine will all be of the latter kind. And it is a torment to see it, and e’en worse to feel it. But what troubles me most is that it seems as if this woman kens that I am there with her, seeing it all.” She shivered despite being held close to his warmth. “’Tis as if she has somehow climbed into my head.”

“
Jesu
, do ye think she has some gift as weel?”

“It would certainly explain why she is so elusive. I dinnae ken. Mayhap she does or mayhap my dreams themselves are pulling her in. It has ne’er happened before. I have ne’er heard voices so clearly before than I have since the dreams and visions about this murderous couple began.”

“Mayhap it is the violence, the killing, that makes it so. The emotions ye speak of having felt when ye have seen something are all verra strong ones.”

“True. That might explain why the dreams slowly grow more vivid, but nay how she speaks directly to me, looks right at me, e’en gives me one of her cold, adder’s smiles as she speaks her threats.”

“Ye never told me the bitch had smiled right at ye in a vision.”

“What does it matter? She has threatened me almost from the beginning. I did tell ye of that. The fact that she does so is of no help in finding her. I look for things or something said that will tell us where the killing will occur, who she and her huge companion are, and mayhap even some small hint of where they might be hiding or who they might try to kill next. Those are the things that are important.”

She was right, but Tormand still felt somewhat stung that she had obviously hidden something from him.

He sighed and tried again to push aside the fear he felt for her, but was not very successful. The attack on Morainn that had led to her being at his side had shown them that the blood-soaked pair they chased
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wanted her dead. It served no good purpose to keep repeating that or allowing it to prey too heavily on his mind. All he could do was keep her out of their reach and pray that was good enough.

“So, tell me, were ye shown any faces this time, or told any names, or, e’en better, shown where this next killing will happen and when?”

“Her name is Ada or Anna. Once she spoke it aloud, as if she spoke of someone else, yet it was clear that she was talking about something she had done. I think her madness worsens, although having seen what she does I cannae see how that is possible. Mayhap she is just losing control over it. ’Tis no longer a cold, icy insanity, but has become wild and unfettered. The mon is struggling harder to keep her under control.

“I did see him a wee bit more clearly this time. It was as though the shadows he has always been surrounded by slowly receded for a moment, like clouds parting just a little to let the sun shine through.

He
is
verra, verra big. Tall and bulky with thick muscles. He is still just Small to her though.”

“I am thinking that is but a name to distinguish him from another with the same Christian name, like Young Mary and Old Mary.”

Morainn nodded, idly thinking about how good he smelled. He tasted good, too, she thought, and felt herself blush slightly. They had not been lovers for even a full sennight yet, but she was rapidly turning into a complete wanton. She was always hungry for him.

For a moment she was tempted to try to lure him away from the subject of her dream by seducing him.

Then she had to swallow a laugh hastily. She was no seductress, did not have the experience or knowledge even to try to be. It was also wrong to try to divert him in such a way. They were hunting cold, brutal killers. Now was no time to play such games.

“Did ye not see anything to tell ye where the killing might take place or who the victim will be?”

“That was the odd thing,” she murmured, giving in to the urge to stroke his taut stomach as she fixed her mind’s eye on all she had seen in her dream. “This time there was a great deal to be seen as concerns the where. I saw sheep.”

“Sheep? Dearling, Scotland is full of sheep.”

“I ken it.” She rubbed her fingers up and down the soft line of hair that started at his belly hole and led down to his manhood. “There were sheep huddled close to the side of a small house made of stone with a mix of slate and thatch for a roof. It was a rough place with a dirt floor and the cooking fire set in the middle of the floor and a hole in the roof to let the smoke out.” Her wrists burned faintly again as she spoke of the place where her dream-self had been pinned to the floor, her arms and legs tied tightly to stakes driven into the dirt.

“A shieling mayhap, although it sounds a wee bit too large. Mayhap a crofter’s cottage. There are a lot of them about, but only the ones closest to town are important. They need to stay where they can take their victims aside, murder them, and then still get them home and tucked up in their beds ere the sun rises.

That would lessen the number we would need to search. And what of the victim? Did ye see anything of her?”

“Ye ken weel that I dinnae ken many people in town, and certainly none of the higher born. E’en if the dreams allowed me a verra clear view of the poor woman I probably wouldnae ken who she was. All I saw was that she wasnae a verra big woman and she had dark hair.” She felt guilty about the lie and even more guilty about how easily she told it.

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Tormand nodded as he tried and failed to ignore the way she was touching him. As her long, slender fingers stroked the line of hair on his lower belly, his manhood rose up hard and begging for her to stroke it. She would only have to glance down quickly to see just how eager he was. The blanket draped over his hips did nothing to hide his arousal. Part of him was a little embarrassed by his lack of control around Morainn, while another part just wanted her to see his need and satisfy it.

“I just wish I couldnae hear that icy voice of hers,” Morainn mumbled, distracted by the sight of the large bump in the blanket she could see out of the corner of her eye.

He was aroused by her touch and that made her start to feel that hunger she could never completely shake free of. She told herself to look away, that it was not even dawn yet, but her gaze seem nailed to that rise in the blanket. Morainn thought it strange how her hand almost itched to touch what was shaping the blanket so interestingly. She had yet to touch him there, despite the fact that he touched her everywhere he could.

Morainn watched her hand pause at the edge of the blanket as if it had taken on a life of its own.

Thoughts of how she liked looking at that part of him when it was all arrogant and demanding crowded her mind and she most certainly liked the way it made her feel when it was inside of her. Mayhap she would like how it felt. Mayhap Tormand would like to be stroked as intimately as he stroked her.

She blushed at her own thoughts. They demanded a boldness of her that she did not think she had. Even as she wondered if she could be so daring, she slid her hand beneath the blanket and lightly touched him.