simply blinked at her as if confused.
“Don’t tell me ye don’t remember.” As anger rose up inside her, hot enough to make her ears burn, she pushed at his chest and he barely moved. “Ye don’t want to remember. I have dreams, Owen, vivid haunting dreams that come true. I’ve never known them not to come true. I had dreams of ye when ye were just a laddie. You were the secret friend of my childhood.”
She was spilling it all and he was just regarding her as if she were a new species of plant life. And that made her even more furious.
“I’ve spent my life hiding what I am from people,” she continued, words flowing fast, “knowing I could be accused of being a witch. It kept me from deepfriendships, from being myself. And then after everything that happened with ye ten years ago, I pushed it all down inside me, learning how to force myself not to dream, even learning to wake myself up if I felt it happening. Getting a decent night’s sleep took a long time to achieve. I thought I was over this curse—until ye told me ye’d have me to wife. And then I dreamed.” She shuddered and wrapped her arms around herself, and the dream unfolded in her mind as if it had been waiting to spring up and terrorize her. “When I screamed, ye woke me from the dream of our wedding day.” Her voice became rough. “I’m in my wedding clothes, and ye’re covered in blood, lying on the floor, white with impending death. I fall on ye and my gown becomes spattered with your blood . . .” She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t think, might never feel warm again. The terror of it was so real, overwhelming, incapacitating.
And then she came back to herself to find him shaking her.
“Maggie.” He looked exasperated and angry. “This is why you won’t marry me? You’re allowing a foolish nightmare to upset you?”
Her head jerked away from him as if he’d slapped her, and he let her go.
“And now ye see why I hesitated to tell ye,” she said. “Ten years ago ye reacted even worse. Ye don’t have to take my word for it. Ye can ask my brother, my mother—oh, silly me, they’re not here to confirm my story, don’t ye ken.” His disbelief had haunted herall these years, and it was there again. “Aye, you try to tell the mother whose child is thought drowned that I don’t have dreams that come true. I was the only one who never gave up; I saw where he was, led them right there. Do ye ken how often my dreams saved Hugh and me from terrible beatings?” All the emotion pouring out of her left her drained, and she regarded him with an exhaustion that seemed older than time. “Ye haven’t changed one bit, Owen Duff. Ye still think ye ken all there is in the world. But ye didn’t ken enough to save Lady Emily when I warned ye to.”
“I cannot believe you’re bringing up that tragedy,” he scoffed.
“At least ye didn’t remind me what a jealous liar I am.”
He shot her a look. “I did not—”
“Ye did. And when my dream came true, and the poor lassie died, ye never acknowledged it, did ye.”
“I don’t acknowledge coincidences.”
“Is that what ye told yourself? How ye slept at night? I never got over the guilt that I trusted you to do something to help her, when I should have gone to her myself.”
He clenched his jaw. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“That ye’ll help me find a way to salvage this marriage contract between our clans.”
He stared down at her. She well remembered when they’d been together in their youth, when they’d hunchedover a snake for an hour, and she’d thought Owen would take notes, he was so intent. She felt that way now, except she was his science experiment.
“You will mention this foolishness to no one,” he commanded.
She was disappointed by his attitude, but for once they were in agreement. “Aye, ye think I want to be called a witch? But what are we going to do , Owen?”
“Do? We’re going to marry, of course.”
She groaned. “Do
“Don’t tell me ye don’t remember.” As anger rose up inside her, hot enough to make her ears burn, she pushed at his chest and he barely moved. “Ye don’t want to remember. I have dreams, Owen, vivid haunting dreams that come true. I’ve never known them not to come true. I had dreams of ye when ye were just a laddie. You were the secret friend of my childhood.”
She was spilling it all and he was just regarding her as if she were a new species of plant life. And that made her even more furious.
“I’ve spent my life hiding what I am from people,” she continued, words flowing fast, “knowing I could be accused of being a witch. It kept me from deepfriendships, from being myself. And then after everything that happened with ye ten years ago, I pushed it all down inside me, learning how to force myself not to dream, even learning to wake myself up if I felt it happening. Getting a decent night’s sleep took a long time to achieve. I thought I was over this curse—until ye told me ye’d have me to wife. And then I dreamed.” She shuddered and wrapped her arms around herself, and the dream unfolded in her mind as if it had been waiting to spring up and terrorize her. “When I screamed, ye woke me from the dream of our wedding day.” Her voice became rough. “I’m in my wedding clothes, and ye’re covered in blood, lying on the floor, white with impending death. I fall on ye and my gown becomes spattered with your blood . . .” She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t think, might never feel warm again. The terror of it was so real, overwhelming, incapacitating.
And then she came back to herself to find him shaking her.
“Maggie.” He looked exasperated and angry. “This is why you won’t marry me? You’re allowing a foolish nightmare to upset you?”
Her head jerked away from him as if he’d slapped her, and he let her go.
“And now ye see why I hesitated to tell ye,” she said. “Ten years ago ye reacted even worse. Ye don’t have to take my word for it. Ye can ask my brother, my mother—oh, silly me, they’re not here to confirm my story, don’t ye ken.” His disbelief had haunted herall these years, and it was there again. “Aye, you try to tell the mother whose child is thought drowned that I don’t have dreams that come true. I was the only one who never gave up; I saw where he was, led them right there. Do ye ken how often my dreams saved Hugh and me from terrible beatings?” All the emotion pouring out of her left her drained, and she regarded him with an exhaustion that seemed older than time. “Ye haven’t changed one bit, Owen Duff. Ye still think ye ken all there is in the world. But ye didn’t ken enough to save Lady Emily when I warned ye to.”
“I cannot believe you’re bringing up that tragedy,” he scoffed.
“At least ye didn’t remind me what a jealous liar I am.”
He shot her a look. “I did not—”
“Ye did. And when my dream came true, and the poor lassie died, ye never acknowledged it, did ye.”
“I don’t acknowledge coincidences.”
“Is that what ye told yourself? How ye slept at night? I never got over the guilt that I trusted you to do something to help her, when I should have gone to her myself.”
He clenched his jaw. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“That ye’ll help me find a way to salvage this marriage contract between our clans.”
He stared down at her. She well remembered when they’d been together in their youth, when they’d hunchedover a snake for an hour, and she’d thought Owen would take notes, he was so intent. She felt that way now, except she was his science experiment.
“You will mention this foolishness to no one,” he commanded.
She was disappointed by his attitude, but for once they were in agreement. “Aye, ye think I want to be called a witch? But what are we going to do , Owen?”
“Do? We’re going to marry, of course.”
She groaned. “Do
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