A Bewitching Bride (24 page)

Read A Bewitching Bride Online

Authors: Elizabeth Thornton

Great sobs shook her whole body, and she turned her head to the side, as though the sight of him disgusted her.
When the sobs had died away, and he felt her go limp, he rolled to his side, relieving her of his weight. Cupping her face, he said gently, “I think I know how confused you must have felt as a child, but you’re a woman now. Accept your gift. Use it.”
“You know nothing! Nothing!” Some of the fire returned, but it quickly burned itself out, leaving her more drained than ever. She couldn’t think straight. She was in no condition to match wits with him. All she could do was try to shut him out of her mind. Stupid thought! There was no hiding from this man.
He didn’t try to stop her when she got up. She snagged her dressing robe, shrugged into it, and crossed, stiff-backed, to the window and stared out. As unobtrusively as possible, he rose, took a step toward her, and halted, unsure what to do for the best.
She spoke over her shoulder in a small, emotionless voice. “You were, by your own account, a man fully grown when you inherited your gifts.” She gave a refined snort, as eloquent as any words to denote what she thought of his gifts. “I was just a child when I realized I was different from other children. I couldn’t read minds like you can—”
“Only one mind, yours, Kate, and I don’t read it—”
“But I had visions of the future.”
“Then you are the true seer.”
She turned to face him. “Do you think that made me happy? It was a curse. My visions were frightening. I couldn’t control them. I couldn’t see what I wanted to see. I couldn’t tell what had happened to my mother all those years ago. The visions came to me whether I wanted them to or not. I saw houses burning and people drowning, but no one took me seriously, until, of course, what I predicted came true. The local children called me a freak. By the time I was ten, I didn’t have a single friend. That’s when I learned to keep my mouth shut.”
“And your mother and father? I mean Mr. and Mrs. Cameron?”
“They were worried to death about me.” She emitted a strangled laugh. “As for Magda, she was terrified of me, so I don’t blame her for her lack of sisterly affection. Normal children tease each other. I would get back at her by inventing a horrible event that would soon overtake her.” She shook her head. “Naturally, things couldn’t go on the way they were going. My parents knew about Dr. Rankin’s work with the mentally disturbed, and he took me on as a patient. He taught me how to block out my visions.”
He chuckled. “I’ve seen the brick wall, and the castle and towers with the moat and drawbridge. What’s next, Kate?”
She scowled. “Meddling with my mind again, Hepburn?”
“No,” he answered, stretching the truth a little. “I told you, I can’t control where my mind takes me. That night on the moor,
you
meddled with
my
mind, oh not deliberately, but you streaked into my dreams like a shooting star. Then, if you’ll excuse me for mentioning it, you saved me from a fate worse than death when you smacked me on the fingers in Janet Mayberry’s bedchamber.”
His little joke didn’t win a laugh from her, but she turned to face him, and there was life in her eyes again.
“I’m not admitting anything.”
“Of course not,” he said.
She eyed him speculatively. “You want me to learn to read your mind?”
“I do.”
“How do I do that?”
He tried not to sound too eager. “We practice. We could begin by retracing your dream step by step. I might see something that you overlooked.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“That’s private.”
“At least tell me who was waiting for you outside the hospice. Give me a name.”
“I can’t,” she said wearily. “I don’t know who took me away.”
Frustration rippled through him. He took a quick step away from her, exhaled a long breath, then swung back to face her. “This isn’t a game we are playing. I didn’t marry you so that you could live happily ever after. I married you so that you could
live
. We’re not out of the woods yet, and we may never get out unless we learn to trust each other.”
She could see that he was angry, so she kept her voice low and reasonable. After all, he had saved her life on the moors. They wouldn’t be having this conversation if he hadn’t come after her.
So much thinking was making her dizzy, but one thing continued to puzzle her. “Why are you so certain that I’m the target? What if our killer kills again? Maybe he’s a religious fanatic and . . .” Her voice faded when he shook his head.
“I know,” he said, “because it was foretold in my granny’s prophecy. She showed me the future but insisted that the future could be changed.”
She had trouble finding her breath. “What did the prophecy say?”
“It said . . .” He stopped and shook his head. “Read my mind, Kate. You can do it with a little practice.” He lowered his head to whisper in her ear, “Read my mind.”
Seventeen
What they needed, he said, was a brisk walk to clear the cobwebs from their minds. “The links are close by. We’ll take that road. There’s no point in coming to Aberdeen if we don’t spend some time at the seashore.”
“I thought you came for Dr. Rankin’s funeral and to settle his affairs.”
“That, too, but a day has twenty-four hours. What is it they say? All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy?”
She’d made him turn his back on her while she dressed, so she couldn’t see his grin, but she heard it in his voice. He seemed to find amusement in the oddest things.
“I don’t understand,” she said. “We’ve been careful to stay hidden or at least avoid detection when we move about. Now, suddenly, we’re going for a stroll to the beach?”
“That’s because I’ve set things up so that if anyone has discovered we’re here, they’ll follow a false trail. How long does it take you to get dressed?”
“You can turn around now. Who is setting a false trail?”
“Dalziel and Magda, suitably disguised, are pretending to be us. They left five minutes ago by cab for a hotel on Union Street, where they will register in our names. No one will be surprised at our changing hotels. What newly married couple wants to spend their honeymoon with their families? After that, Dalziel is undertaking a number of errands for me.”
Her mind barely registered the last part of his account. She was speechless. Magda was pretending to be
her
? Her sister was taking
her
place? The thought was ludicrous. It made her want to laugh. She ground her teeth together.
“When did you arrange this?” she asked abruptly.
“Oh, when you were at your ablutions, you know, washing the scent of me from your skin.” His lips were verging on a smile.
She glared. “Have you no delicacy, Hepburn?”
“None whatsoever, not with my wife. Besides, as soon as I walked in the door, I detected the perfume of roses. I like it.”
“I don’t—” She stopped, waited till she had control of her breathing, and changed direction. “You mentioned errands. What errands?”
“Dalziel is going to the police station to pick up a file for my brother. It’s all arranged.”
“What’s in the file?”
“I’ll tell you when Dalziel returns.”
He could be maddeningly evasive when he wanted to be. Still, there could be nothing in the file that she need fear.
She gestured to the window. “It’s not walking weather. It’s raining.”
“No, it’s threatening to rain. I have an umbrella, see?”
She glanced at the umbrella, frowned up at his grinning face, and marched to the door. Did he always have to have his own way?
“You look very nice,” he said and ushered her into the corridor.
She knew she had never looked better, courtesy of Juliet’s borrowed garments. His tepid compliment didn’t deserve an acknowledgment, so she sailed by him and made for the stairs.
“Where is Macduff?” she asked, whispering now because they seemed to be the only guests in the hotel who were up. “I miss him.”
“He’s with Dalziel. I told him to make arrangements to send Macduff back to Feughside. He’ll be fine.”
She made a harrumphing sound. She knew the real source of her irritation. He still hadn’t told her what was in his grandmother’s prophecy. She knew him well enough to know that he meant what he said, that if she wanted to find out, she would have to read his mind. How was she supposed to do that?
It wasn’t raining, though heavy clouds obscured the sun. There was a breeze off the sea with the tang of salt, but it wasn’t unpleasant. She held her face up and breathed deeply. The freedom of not looking over her shoulder to see whether someone was following her put her in a better temper.
They were passing the convent of the Sisters of Nazareth. Something hovered at the back of her mind, and she shivered.
“What about your parents?” he asked. “I mean Mr. and Mrs. Cameron. How did they come to adopt you?”
“Must we talk about that now? You said that we were going to go for a brisk walk to clear the cobwebs from our minds.”
He drew her hand through the crook of his arm. “You’re right,” he said. “We’re just a newly married couple in thrall to each other and oblivious of the passing crowd.”
His words brought home a truth she had been trying to avoid. Perhaps she was a little enthralled with him, but he would be the last person she’d tell. It would be humiliating to love a man who loved another woman.
As for last night . . . what could she say? She’d forgotten to keep him at a distance. Fortunately, the experience left much to be desired, and she had no wish to repeat it.
“Did you mention a crowd?” she asked. They had left Constitution Street behind and were coming to the links that bordered the beach. “All I can see are seagulls, a ship out at sea, and miles and miles of golden sand.”
He patted her hand. “So much the better for our little practice session. No interruptions, just you and me endeavoring to read each other’s thoughts.”
She stopped and turned to face him. “I don’t want you meddling with my mind.”
He sighed in exasperation. “You choose what you want me to see. That’s not meddling. You’re in charge of your own thoughts.”
“What’s the point? Why don’t I tell you what I’m thinking?”
“What are you thinking?” When she hemmed and hawed, he grinned. “You want to know what my grandmother foretold. There’s more to it than that, Kate.”
There was a wooden rail at this point. He lounged against it, thought for a moment, and began to speak in the most serious tone she had heard him use since they’d spoken their marriage vows.
“I’ve mentioned my cousin James and his wife, Faith. When he first came into his legacy from our granny, he dreamed about Faith, about her in the future, coming face-to-face with a murderer, and he knew that he was the only one who could save her.”
She had questions, but she didn’t interrupt, because she didn’t want to break his train of thought.
“I don’t know how it came about,” he went on, “but eventually James was able to read Faith’s mind, but only when she was panicked and in grave danger. That was what saved her life. James knew where she was, and he went after her.”
He lapsed into a long, reflective silence that she was reluctant to break, but her curiosity finally got the better of her. “Did you dream about me, Gavin? Is that why you came after me out on the moor?”
His grim expression gradually softened, and he smiled. “Yes and no,” he replied. “When we met at Juliet’s reception, and our eyes held, I was sure you were the one, but the first time I dreamed of you was when I was asleep in my cottage and you were running for your life. Was it a vision? Was it a dream? Or was my mind reading your thoughts? That’s what I want to find out.”
She gave a choked laugh that held a thread of fear. “I thought I was odd, but you are definitely bizarre.”
“Let’s find out, shall we?”
She shook her head. “I put all such nonsense behind me when I became Dr. Rankin’s patient. As I’ve told you before, I’m intuitive. I sense things, oh, nothing earthshaking, just feelings and so forth.”
“It’s the ‘so forth’ I’m interested in. Do you play cards?” When she simply stared at him, he nodded. “Of course you don’t,” he said. “It’s hard to be impartial when you know everyone else’s cards. It takes practice to win a few hands and lose a few.” His voice changed, became harder, relentless. “Concentrate! Look into my eyes! Focus! Tell me what I’m thinking.”
She stared into his eyes, as relentless as he.
“Well?”
“You’re thinking of a woman.”
“Very good. Don’t stop there. Look closely. Who is she? What is she wearing?”
She put her head to the side. “Oh, now I see her. It’s Janet Mayberry, and she isn’t wearing a stitch.”
She stopped laughing when he clamped his hands on her arms. Neither noticed that the umbrella had rolled to the ground. “I was thinking of you, Kate, thinking that you’re as pretty as a picture in your lavender skirt and jacket. I was thinking that you should leave the top buttons undone to show off your beautiful throat.”

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