“All of them, I’m afraid,” Father Caleb put in quietly, his eyes full of dismay. “Realizing that you had a guest matching the woman’s description, a few of the families weren’t willing to share the details of their sick men’s dreams, worried about repercussions…”
“All of them,” Brendan corrected himself, and she could see the tension in his jaw as he fought to maintain control of the situation. “And Elena… you have to admit, those walks you take at night —”
Her eyes widened. “Seriously? You know where I go! I walk down to the docks and look at the water!” She could feel herself overreacting, aware that she was still covering up the true purpose of those night-time excursions… but whatever the actual reason, she sure as hell hadn’t been going down to the village to put curses on sick men! “Brendan, this is completely ridiculous—”
“Aye, that’s what you say you do, and Elena, I so badly want to believe you. Trust me. It brings me nothing but pain to have to accuse you like this. But until I can prove your innocence…”
“Where I come from,” Elena said with a voice that threatened to break under the strain of her own feeling, “we assume people are innocent until they’re proven guilty. I was clearly a fool for thinking something so obviously sensible was a universal idea —”
“I’m not saying anything about your guilt or your innocence,” Brendan snapped. “But there’s enough — what did you call it? Circumstantial evidence — to be concerned. Elena, you told me about your case, back where you’re from. You told me that there was a description given of someone who had maybe been walking around where the bodies were found. Wasn’t that person a suspect?”
Elena bit her lip, not liking where this was going. “Yes.”
“And wouldn’t you have taken them with you to your — your guard house, your police station, if you had found them?”
She gritted her teeth. He was using due process against her and she hated it. “Yes! But I’m — I’m innocent,” she whispered, feeling the fight go out of her. How many perps had she heard those exact words from when she asked them to come down to the station with her, or when she put them under arrest? A lot of the time they were telling the truth, too… which didn’t mean they weren’t an important part of the investigation. And whatever the truth may have been, she had to admit — being recognized by three separate victims of the crimes was a damning piece of evidence. There was a reason the villagers out there wanted to burn her, after all.
“I’ll — I’ll cooperate,” she whispered, hating it. “Okay? I just — I just need you to tell me that you don’t believe I’m — a witch, or some kind of evil creature who’s harming these men. Okay?”
Brendan looked at her for a long moment. She heard Father Caleb get up from the table and bustle into the other room, muttering some excuse under his breath in perhaps the most strained voice she’d ever heard. The guy wasn’t cut out for conflict, that was for sure. Finally, Brendan looked away, and she felt a pain lance across her chest.
“There’s a creature,” he said in a low voice, not looking at her. “A Fae creature, an old story my grandmother used to whisper to me and my brothers growing up when we started taking an interest in the local girls.”
“Brendan, I need you to tell me you don’t believe I’m a monster.”
“The creature was called the baobhan sith,” he continued, still not looking at her. His voice was getting stronger as he spoke. “She appeared in the shape of a tall, beautiful woman with a long red braid. Unearthly beautiful. She walks by night, my grandmother would whisper to us, and her long green dress hides her hooves from view. Her skin is icy cold to the touch and her eyes are black as night, but her beauty is beyond compare. To look on her is to be bewitched by her… especially if you’ve a craving for female company. Her favorite victims are men who wish, by night, for female companionship.”
“You think I’m a —”
“Once you’ve fallen under her spell,” he continued, as though she hadn’t spoken, “you’re lost. You’ll dream about her constantly, waste away just remembering her beauty… and she’ll grow stronger as you grow weaker, feeding on your passion for her. She’ll appear to you by night, just enough to keep you obsessed. You’ll follow her every command, do her bidding, even if it means your own death. Your love for her will kill you anyway, so what does it matter? We were terrified of the baobhan sith, me and my brothers. We swore we’d never wish for a woman to love us, that we’d swear ourselves to our work alone.”
“I don’t have hooves,” Elena snapped, reaching down to unlace her boots with angry, jerky movements. “Do you want me to show you? No hooves, no green dress, no black eyes or spellcasting ability — do you seriously think I’m mind-controlling you?” She almost laughed at the stupidity of the idea. “Brendan, if I could mind control you, why would I be letting you accuse me of being some kind of… ancient Scottish man-vampire?”
“I’m not accusing you of anything,” Brendan said steadily. “Just sharing a theory with you. Explaining why you’ll need to be locked up, to prove your innocence —”
“The creature walks by night, right?” She could hear herself almost shouting.
Father Caleb returned to the room, hovering anxiously by the door, wringing his hands, but she had no interest in him for now.
“It’s broad daylight. I’ve been out in broad daylight a hundred times. We’ve spent most of our time together in sunlight!”
“Sunlight isn’t a problem for witches,” Brendan said levelly. “Nor would the cold iron I bear allow you to control my mind. Why else do you think I planted that token on you, Elena? I was trying to protect you from the creature I suspected was out there —”
“You suspected?” Her eyes widened. “How long have you been working on this particular theory?”
“A while,” he said steadily, looking straight at her now.
“And why didn’t you see fit to tell me about it before?” she whispered, her heart pounding.
“I think you know the answer to that.”
She was reeling. This whole time, she’d thought Brendan trusted her, liked her… more than liked her, even. She’d been thinking about a future with him, considering the prospect of staying here in medieval Scotland to be with him… and this whole time, he’d been nursing a suspicion that she was a witch, or a monster? She couldn’t believe it — the sense of betrayal was so strong that it felt like she was choking on it.
“Elena — do you have the token I gave you?” he asked gently, now, clearly sensing she was distressed… but she recoiled from his touch, anger warring with her grief.
“I threw it into the Loch,” she snapped. Stupid, maybe, to admit to that — but her temper was up and at this point, all she wanted was to hurt him. What was the point of trying to clear her name? It was becoming abundantly clear that Una had been right. Men — human men, medieval men — just weren’t to be trusted. This whole time, she’d thought she was the one with the secret — but it was Brendan who’d been deceiving her all along. “I should never have let my guard down around you. You’re just the same as every other man I’ve ever met — you’re a backwards, uneducated, ignorant caveman.” She pushed her hair out of her face, feeling on the verge of breaking down completely… she clutched tight to her anger like a rope to pull her out of her madness. “You people don’t even know you should wash your hands before surgery yet! Why the hell did I ever let myself think you were capable of treating a woman like an equal?”
“Elena. I’m not accusing you of anything —”
“Oh, no? Well I’m accusing you,” she snarled. “You and every other man under the sun. Animals, all of you. I should have run the other way the minute I met you.”
“If that’s the way you feel,” he said softly, and though she could hear the pain in his voice, she was long past the point of caring. “Father Caleb? I’ll be escorting the prisoner back to the castle now. Maybe you could fill the villagers in on what’s happening, so they don’t try to interfere.�
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Una was right, Elena thought hollowly, slumped in her chair like her whole heart had been ripped out. In a way, it had. Una had been right the whole time. Why hadn’t she trusted her? Why hadn’t she run away with her when she had the chance?
Chapter 48
This was humiliating. Elena had never gone anywhere in handcuffs — unless you counted a few jokes and hazing rituals back at the academy — and she absolutely did not like how it felt. They weren’t handcuffs, exactly — Brendan had agreed to just loop rope around her wrists, and they technically weren’t bound very tightly. Escape was possible. He told her that he just wanted her to look like a prisoner, but she wasn’t actually a prisoner… but at the same time, he was going to take her back to the castle under guard.
“And what would happen if I refused? If I just took this rope off and walked out?”
“Then the villagers would probably grab you and burn you at the stake,” Brendan said with thinly veiled frustration in his voice. “I’m trying to avoid that. I know you’re angry, and I know you’re hurt, and that’s all something we can deal with later, but right now my main priority is getting you out of this place alive, so will you just… let me help you? We can fight all you want later.”
“What makes you think I’d waste my energy on another conversation with you?” she snapped, as cruelly and dismissively as she could. She saw him recoil, saw the impact that the barb had on him… and though part of her was satisfied to inflict a little of the pain she was experiencing on him, for the most part it just made her feel sadder.
A few hours ago, they’d been allies. She’d been looking forward to spending the day with him, the way she used to look forward to going out with Billy, her partner on the force. She’d even been thinking about whether or not tonight would be a good night to finally invite him up to her room… or let him invite her to his. Contraception was a problem, of course, but she’d been brainstorming some solutions… well, nothing could be further from her mind, now. The thought of letting him touch her made her sick to her stomach.
No, she realized with a wave of frustration, it actually didn’t. Even after everything he’d done to her, after everything that had been revealed… the physical attraction was still there. He was aware of it, too. She could tell by the caution in his hands as he bound her wrists loosely with a loop of rope that Father Caleb had provided.
“What’s wrong? Are the iron manacles being used, or something?” she snapped. “And how am I meant to ride my horse with my hands tied?”
“You won’t be riding her,” Brendan said apologetically, leading her to the door. His body was so stiff — he was clearly exerting a lot of effort to keep control of himself. Well, good. So he should be. She hoped he woke up the next morning with a blinding tension headache. “You’ll ride on the back of my horse.”
“Like a prisoner,” she snapped.
“That’s how we want it to look, Elena, yes,” he growled, his eyes flashing. “Have you considered that you don’t know every damn thing about this place you’ve spent a couple of weeks in? Be quiet.”
So full of anger she could barely speak, she subsided into vengeful silence. Oh, he wanted her quiet, did he? She’d give him quiet. She’d give him more quiet than he could deal with. She strode out after him into the midday sun, ignoring the looks he shot her over his shoulder. The villagers were still gathered where they’d left them, though someone had brought both horses up to the chapel. Brendan assisted her in climbing up onto the neck of the chestnut horse, then jumped up behind her, his arms around her as he took hold of the reins. His body was warm against hers, and it seemed like her stupid libido hadn’t gotten the memo about Brendan now being her direst enemy… her body was responding to his closeness. She ignored it, furiously. Father Caleb tethered her white mare to the chestnut’s saddle, and Brendan wheeled his horse around and started riding down the main street. But the villagers weren’t going to move without an explanation.
“Well? Are we to have a fire?”
“Good citizens,” Brendan called, his voice loud in her ear — she winced, keeping her face deliberately still, not wanting to give any of the people who’d wanted her imprisoned any satisfaction at all. “I have heard and understood your concerns about the ongoing disease that’s harming the men of the village. Let it be known that we are taking this woman back to the castle, to be held under guard for as long as it takes to solve the problem.”
“Iron,” one of the women called out urgently. “Make sure you cover her in cold iron -”
“As you know,” Brendan cut her off warningly, “the Sept are well aware of the strengths and weaknesses of witches and other creatures of the Fae. We have dozens of scholars, who we will consult on the best method of getting to the truth. For what it’s worth, I hope to prove this woman’s innocence.” A chorus of resentful boos went up at that, but Brendan waved his hand. “However, we will take every precaution to keep her where she can do no harm until that innocence is beyond question.”
It was a long ride home. Brendan tried to speak to her a few times, but she was still hanging onto his instruction to be quiet. It hurt, a little, hearing the steady loss of hope in his voice… but she could tell he was angry with her, too. She’d said some pretty nasty things back there in the chapel, she thought with a pang of something like guilt… which she quickly crushed down underneath a wave of righteous anger. He couldn’t treat her this way and expect her to be friendly afterwards. He’d wronged her terribly. If anything, she could have been even more unfriendly.
She wanted to ask if she could get off his horse and ride her own, now that they were out of sight of the village — but she was more interested in maintaining her frosty silence and he didn’t offer to let her ride Silver. It was humiliating, being paraded past old Maggie’s cabin — to her relief, neither Maggie nor Darter were out the front to see what was happening. That wasn’t a conversation she was especially keen to have… but once they’d passed the cottage, it occurred to her that Maggie was probably exactly the person they needed to talk to. She’d be able to confirm that Elena wasn’t a witch or some Fae monster, wouldn’t she?
Or would she simply side with Brendan? After all, he’d been her friend for longer than Elena had. And Elena was beginning to feel that she couldn’t trust any of the Seelie Fae — not the Sidhe, not Maggie, not Darter, not anybody. After all, hadn’t it been Una who’d warned her that all this would happen? If Una was Unseelie, and her enemies were the Seelie… well then, the Seelie were Elena’s enemies too. Why not? She may as well add them to the growing list of people she hated. Those three men in the village who’d hurled themselves at her, they were on the list. Father Caleb, for being so weak and useless during that conversation. The Sidhe, for bringing her here in the first place instead of just letting her die in the line of duty — Maybe that would have been better than all of this horrible crap, she thought resentfully. But Brendan was in pride of place, for putting her through all this, just when she’d decided to overcome her better instincts and trust him. Even like him. Even fall for him… even think about a future together, a future where they shared a home and a life and even a few children…
They rode through the gates, and she could feel the curious eyes of the entire guard staff on her when they did. Her face burned, but she didn’t speak, didn’t look up at them, didn’t acknowledge in any way that any of this was happening. Brendan rode to the stables, but instead of putting the horses away himself like he usually did, he whistled for a groom to do it. Elena looked down and realized with a shock that the boy that had scurried over to help was James, the young lad she’d met on her first day here. He remembered it, clearly — his eyes were full of surprise and fierce curiosity when he looked up at her. How was she supposed to explain her predicament? The bizarre urge to make a joke about stealing wine rose and fell in her mind, and she just looked straight ahead, ignoring the look of confusion and disappointment on his face. A curious child was the last of her concerns at the moment.
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Brendan led her into the castle. It was a small mercy that it was still midmorning, and there weren’t many people around to see her being escorted through the castle with her hands bound, even if they were bound loosely. He took her to her room, took the rope from her hands, and with a cough, instructed her to gather her belongings. She narrowed her eyes at him. Where was he moving her? To some dank dungeon under the castle?
She took a few changes of clothes and the book by her bedside, a collection of descriptions of Fae creatures. Maybe she’d look up the baobhan sith later, she thought with a flare of anger, start working on the extremely obvious argument that there was no way she was some kind of Fae creature. Did they have legal representation in medieval Scotland? Not for witches, she was willing to bet. Not even for suspected witches.
The room he led her to was a few floors above the one her room was on — and with a jolt of dismay, she realized why. There was a lock on the outside of the door, huge and foreboding, and she could tell by looking at it that there was no way of picking it from the inside — it had a bolt that slid across the door, physically preventing anyone inside it from opening it once it was locked. It was dusty in the room — it clearly hadn’t been aired out in some time — and Elena narrowed her eyes as Brendan placed an iron cross on the ledge of the window that looked out over the Loch. It was bigger than her window downstairs, large enough for her to fit through… but they were far too high for any kind of escape attempt to be worth considering. Not unless she had a death wish.
And she didn’t. No, she was absolutely not going to make things that easy for them.
Swept By The Highlander: A Scottish Time Travel Romance-Highlander Forever Book 3 Page 29
