Page 46 of The Scottish Bride
“Fire,” she repeated. “I see this place all aflame.” She passed a shaking hand over her eyes, trying to wipe away the images.
“Jesu! You are shivering, lass.” He pulled her close, his body blocking the wind, his arms around her now. She trembled, head to foot.
“Fire in the oak, at fair Holyoak,” she whispered. “Torches at the gate and the tolling of the bell. Gate—watch the gate.”
“The monks are cautious of fire, like anyone with house and hearth.”
“Beware the gate. The broken gate.” Her voice grew hoarse.
“What the devil,” he murmured. “You said you were tired. Is it fever? I never should have made you ride so far in this cold and wet.” He rubbed her shoulder, pulled her in, his arm around her.
The words roiled through her. “Fire at the oak, at fair Holyoak, men with torches and the ringing of the bell—” She could not look away from the vision inside her head, could not stop the message that poured through her.
“Jesu,” he growled, then swept her into his arms. The swift motion halted the cascade of words in her head. She rocked in his arms as he strode through a whipping curtain of rain to the cottage step and booted the door open.
Chapter Thirteen
He stood readyto catch her, hold her, whatever she needed. Pale and shaking, the lass sat on the narrow cot now, looking spent. She pushed back the hood of her sodden cloak. Her tousled braid loosened into ripples of wet gold. Lifting her hands, she covered her eyes.
“Lady?” Concern sagged his shoulders, his spirit. “Tamsin?”
When she looked at him, her eyes were bright, luminous. “Oh,” she said, as if in a half-daze. “This is a nice cottage.”
“It is.” He felt relief at the ordinary remark. But what had just happened? He waited, glancing around the small guest house with its simple bed, straw mattress, woolen blanket, and thin pillow. By the window stood a small table, a bench. One shelf held a cup, a jug, a candle, and a wooden cross hung on the wall beside the small curtained window. Flames flickered in the small stone hearth in a corner, blessedly warm. Tamsin stood and crossed the room to warm her hands at the hot glow.
“Better?” he asked.
She nodded. “I am sorry. Thank you.”
He drew a calming breath. “I will fetch your things.” He stepped out in the rain to grab the satchels he had dropped, bringing them inside.
She looked up. “That was—that has not happened for a while. A truthy spell, my family calls it.”
“Some might call it the Sight. Though the fatigue of the day would explain it too.” He frowned. “You should rest. I will go.”
“Stay,” she said quickly, putting out a hand. “Please stay. If you can.”
In answer, he went to her side, wanting to be there if she faltered, and put out his hands to the fire. As warmth eased the dampness he felt, he nudged his arm and shoulder against her, a buttress if need be.
“I am not sure what I said,” she murmured.
“Something about fire.”
“It must have seemed very odd to you.”
“No matter. I just want to know you are fine now.”
“I am.” Long golden strands, wet and curling, curtained her face.
“You need rest and food. A bit of watered wine, or perhaps a stronger spirit. I can fetch something from the rectory. You say this has happened before?”
“Aye. Not often.” She sighed. “My family has seen this in me. Grandda did the same, but he spoke with authority, with power, you see. He had the ear of kings and earls and great men. What comes over me is small by comparison. Few know about it. Grandda once told me that someday I would see things that are true, and not to fear that power. Still, you must think me foolish. Weak.”
“I do not. A gift like yours,” he said, “may start quietly and grow. If the visions prove true, word spreads. Leaders listen. My cousin is a soothsayer. Lady Isobel Seton.”
She gasped. “Of Aberlady? I have heard the name. She speaks to earls and suchlike. I could never do that.”
“You could and you may someday, if you are like your great-grandfather. And I think you are,” he murmured. “When visions come to Isobel, she pays them heed and gives warning. She married a friend. One day—I could bring you to meet her,” he offered. Would there be that day, when he could do such a favor for this lass? He frowned. It might mean a future withher beyond this moment, beyond his sorry promise to a ruthless king.
