Free The Scottish Witch by Cathy Maxwell

problem was, with the image of the man on his knees in front of her burned into her memory, she doubted if she would ever be able to forgive herself.

Chapter Four
    T he “witch” had deceived him.
    Harry had been cheated. The realization had come to him slowly. He’d rejected the idea at first. He’d wanted her to be a witch. He’d wanted her to have the power to save his brother.
    He stood there in the middle of the night staring at the Great Oak, willing it to conjure Fenella. He’d waited for three hours before he realized she would not come. Three hours spent cramped and hidden, three hours when he’d dared to let himself hope .
    And now? He realized the woman might have been some charlatan who had heard of the money he’d been offering. He was humiliated. Cheated. He’d even posted a letter to his sister, Margaret, to take heart, that he believed he had found Fenella. He hated thinking of the false hope he’d passed on to his brother.
    Harry was not a man one crossed. He hated double dealing. Even in the military he was known for wanting the truth, no matter how ugly. Only then could he make a reasonable decision.
    Damn, he needed a drink or the blessed relief of opium. His game leg had started aching and he was angry enough to tear the head off of someone.
    He had to have a release, and for a wild moment, he vented his anger by kicking the tree and stomping on the toadstools, silly, childish gestures, and yet he was in such a rage he needed a release of some sort. He had believed. What a fool he’d been!
    Harry had even fallen to his knees in front of her. He’d humbled himself.
    He marched off, collected Ajax, and tore off across the moonlit countryside as if the devil was at his heels.
    No, he was the devil! When he found “Fenella,” she would rue the day she had thought to cheat him—and he would find her.
    And he tried.
    For the next twenty-four hours, he wore himself and Ajax to the bone, searching for the woman who had deceived him. She was here somewhere. He knocked on doors, paid bribes, followed every path through forests, over moors, along the shoreline.
    Did he know the Scots didn’t trust him? Oh yes, he did, but Harry was beyond caring what they thought. Every fiber of his being was intent on finding this woman.
    Of course, his decision to stay had pleased Monty.
    “So you will be able to attend the Christmas Assembly. That’s good. That’s good,” Monty said, rubbing his hands. “Do you have something suitable to wear?”
    Harry frowned at him, thinking his friend insane. “I am not going to any dance. That is not my purpose here.”
    “But you are here. It’s tomorrow evening. You should go.” He paused to add, “You know I need you. And it is the Christmas season, a time when we should gather for good company.”
    “ No .” Harry ran a frustrated hand through his hair and attempted to soften his tone. “I’m sorry, Monty, but I’m not feeling in a festive spirit. I don’t care if Christ himself was present at that dance. I’m failing my brother. I’ve never failed before. I’ve cost lives, but I have never failed.”
    “I only thought since you were here . . .” Monty’s voice drifted off and Harry couldn’t help but pity him, standing there alone, surrounded by his dogs who wagged their tails, eager for his attention.
    Harry raised his hands to protest and then let them drop to his side. “I must leave on the morrow. I travel to Edinburgh.”
    “To what purpose?” Monty asked.
    “There is a man, William Donan at the university in Edinburgh, who specializes in folk stories about kelpies and witches. Perhaps he can give me information.”
    “You don’t know where you are going,” Monty answered, his doubt about the idea clear.
    That was true. But he had exhausted every avenue in Glenfinnan.
    “I’m trying my best,” Harry said, speaking more to himself than the general. He looked to his mentor. “I’m sorry, sir, that I can’t help you. Once I’ve