Free The Laird of Stonehaven by Connie Mason Page B

now, but I’m sure she’d like to see you. Dinna stay too long.”
    Carla grasped Blair’s hand and kissed it. “Thank ye, my lady. I dinna care what Gunna says, ye canna be a witch.”
    As a path opened up for her outside the cottage, Blair decided Carla was the only one of that opinion. The fierce scowls that Gunna and her cronies directed at her did not bode well for her future at Stonehaven. The tense atmosphere crackled with a word that brought fear to her heart.
    Witch.
    “Go home,” Graeme ordered the gaggle of women. “There is naught more you can do here. Mab and her bairn are well and in good hands.”
    As if to confirm his words, Rona appeared in the doorway, holding the babe in her arms. “The laird speaks the truth,” she said, “and we have his lady to thank.”
    The smile she bestowed upon Blair told her she had made at least one friend in the village. In time, she hoped to gain the trust of those who feared her powers, and that included her husband.
    “You shouldna have gone off on your own,” Graeme chided. “Have you any idea how worried I was when I learned you had gone to the village alone? Scotsmen are a superstitious lot, as you well know. They dinna trust you yet. You put yourself in grave danger by venturing out alone.”
    “Mab’s bairn was in distress and I couldna afford to delay.”
    Disbelief marched across Graeme’s face. “How did you know that?”
    “I . . . sensed it,” Blair hedged. “Carla was most insistent that I leave immediately, and so I did.”
    “You made a powerful enemy,” Graeme said as he grasped Blair’s arm and guided her along the path to the keep. A misty darkness had settled over the hills and rose up from the ground in eerie tendrils. The footing could be treacherous unless one was accustomed to traveling the path.
    “Gunna is a trusted midwife. You should not have interfered. You must promise to be more circumspect in the future.”
    A wolf howled, and a shiver ran down Graeme’s spine. ’Twas a perfect night for spirits and ghouls, if one believed in them.
    “I canna make that promise,” Blair demurred. “I must go where I am needed.”
    Graeme halted. The pressure on her arm brought Blair to a standstill beside him. “What is it, Graeme?” she asked.
    “I need you, Blair.”
    A tense silence ensued. When she spoke, her words held a world of regret. “ ’Tis not the same thing, Graeme. Loving you would be so easy, but . . .”
    “But what?”
    “Unless my love is returned, I will lose my powers.”
    “What you ask of me is impossible. I scarcely know you. I would like to know you better, but you willna allow it. Mayhap in time we would come to love one another.”
    “Until that day comes, I canna risk giving you my heart.”
    “Then give me your body.”
    She inhaled sharply and backed away.
    “What’s wrong, lass? I didna ask for your heart.”
    “Aye, you did, Graeme Campbell,” she whispered. “I canna give you my body, for to do so would leave my heart vulnerable to love. I dinna want to lose my soul to you.”
    His hand remained on her arm, a visible reminder of his strength. “What if I said I loved you?”
    “Then I would say you’re a liar, Graeme Campbell.”
    Was
he a liar? Graeme wondered. Had a Faery Woman he scarcely knew stolen his heart?
    Nay, he decided. Only a madman would love a witch.

Chapter Five
    During the following days, Graeme’s words haunted Blair’s every thought. How dare he lie to her! He couldn’t possibly love her. His words had been meant to confuse her. He wanted her in his bed and would say anything to get her there. Even more shocking was the fact that she
wanted
to be in his bed. The only thing stopping her was the Prophecy.
    Already a few of Graeme’s braver kinsmen had sought her counsel for various ailments. She had treated minor burns with salves, used willow juice extracted from the bark and leaves of that tree to ease aches related to fever and colds, and dispensed red clover to