Reclaimed (A Highland Historical Trilogy) (The MacKay Banshees 1-3) by Kerrigan Byrne

magic cannot affect one of The Returned or The Rewarded. ” Her sky-blue eyes glittered with soft curiosity tinged with concern. Clad only in a thin white nightgown and slippers, Kathryn hovered on the edge of the pool of water. Her soft, graceful hands clasped in front of her as she took in the chaos.
    Rory admired her calm demeanor, thankful that he had the presence of mind to cover in his tartan at least when he and Katriona had been arguing. “I’m sorry this disturbed you, my lady.”
    “The bloody hell is this, MacKay?” Fraser shouldered past his guard and daughter, his slipper squishing into cold, soiled water. His face turned a deeper shade of red. “Someone tell me what cursed noise awoke me. I felt as though my head would split in two!”
    “They’ve a Banshee, Papa,” Kathryn informed him as though she was discussing a new hound, putting a hand on his shoulder and drawing him back from the water.
    “A— a Banshee?” His beady eyes widened to an almost normal size, eyelids disappearing into the sleep-swollen bags beneath. “I wouldn’t believe such nonsense had I not heard it for myself!”
    “A remnant of my brother Angus’s short and violent reign, sir.” Rory stepped forward, aware that his skin and hair still was still slick with moisture.
    Kathryn seemed to have noticed, her gaze sliding down his body along with chilly droplets from his hair. So did Albert, who glared poison at him through narrowed eyes.
    “Are we in danger?” Albert demanded. “Should we be gone from here?”
    Rory froze, feeling as though everything he needed was slipping through his fingers and spilling to the floor. Not just for his future, but for the survival of their clan. What if the Frasers left? What if Katriona’s vengeance caused everyone to starve?
    “Don’t be silly, Albert,” Kathryn chided. “Everyone knows a Banshee is no danger to anyone else until her vengeance is complete. If her aim was your brother, Laird, then she’s harmless as anything but a nuisance. If you were her intended victim, then she’ll fail to kill you and give up eventually.”
    “Ye call this harmless?” Lorne’s voice boomed. I’m going to have to read yer lips for who knows how long!”
    Kathryn shrugged delicate shoulders. “Are you closely related to the Laird?”
    The men looked at each other. “Second cousins, I believe,” Rory supplied.
    “Well, there you have it.” She looked pleased. “Perhaps you’re a wee more susceptible because of your blood, but still in no real danger.”
    “The danger of goin’ deaf seems danger enough,” Lorne muttered.
    Rory ignored him. “How do ye know I’m An Dìoladh? ” He could kiss her for her level head. But wouldn’t, of course. Not with the sweet taste of Katriona still lingering on his lips.
    Shame heated his chilled skin. How could he dally with Katriona when a woman like this was waiting for him? She was one of the innocent. Still alive. Still hopeful. Obviously prone to optimism. This was what he wanted.
    Wasn’t it?
    “Even we Lowlanders enjoy Highland gossip.” She gifted him with a self-effacing smile that enhanced her sweet, golden loveliness. “A bard of Inverness was there the day you awoke all those years ago. He wrote a lyric entitled ‘Rory’s Return.’”
    Rory blinked. “There’s a song about me?”
    “Aye, didn’t you know?” She looked at him through shy lashes and Rory summoned a smile for her. “Maybe I’ll sing it for you sometime.” His fiancé was such a beauty. But when she looked at him with soft suggestion he felt—nothing. No stir of arousal. No flicker of anticipation.
    Albert snorted.
    “Yes yes, very good.” Fraser swatted at Albert and shooed at his daughter. “Let the Laird get cleaned up. We’ll discuss this in the morning." Before leaving, he shot a serious look at Rory that told him he wasn’t in the clear just yet, thousand men or not.
    Once the door shut behind them, Rory turned to Lorne. “Are ye all