But they would soon enough.
They arrived at the tavern before Hawk and Skylar. Shawna warmly greeted the woman who came to serve them. It wasEdwina McCloud—the gentle, pleasant woman with whom she had just learned her great-uncle was romantically involved.
“Edwina! How lovely to see you. This is Miss Sabrina Connor, who is the sister of Hawk Douglas’s new lady wife. Sabrina, Miss Edwina McCloud.”
“’Tis a pleasure,” Edwina said. “And what might I be getting you? Ale, perhaps…” Her voice trailed slightly as she studied Sabrina. “Cider maybe. We’ve fine cider.”
“Ale,” Sabrina said. Yet, to Shawna’s astonishment, as Edwina continued to stare at her, Sabrina seemed to change her mind. “Perhaps I shall try the cider.”
“Cider. Will ye eat nothin’, then?” Edwina inquired.
“Aye, but later.” Shawna watched the older woman’s face. She had once been a stunning woman, and though time had ingrained numerous lines upon her countenance, she was still beautiful, with silver-gray eyes to match the streaks in her abundant auburn hair. She farmed on lands that she tenanted from the MacGinnises, but she worked a few nights a week as well for her cousin, Evan McCloud, who ran the tavern—on land tenanted from the Douglases. “My uncles, cousins, and Laird Douglas from America will be here shortly with his new bride. We’ll have something then.”
“Aye, then,” Edwina said, not seeming to react to the news that Gawain would arrive shortly. As she moved behind the tavern bar to get their drinks, Shawna studied her curiously. Was Edwina aware of Gawain’s regard? And did it mean anything? Gawain might have defended the practice of Wicca nobly, but he was a still a proud MacGinnis, from a long line of ancient Highland chieftains, and Edwina was a tavern maid.
Albeit they were both aging a tad.
“The tavern is quite pleasant,” Sabrina said, smiling.
“A bit rustic compared to what you’ve become accustomed to in America?” Shawna asked.
Sabrina shook her head with a wry smile. “I’ve most recently been with my sister in Dakota Territory—this is high civilization by comparison. Well, I don’t mean that exactly, my brother-in-law is quite sophisticated, of course, but it is Indian country, and I can assure you that many of the Indians are not civilized. Well, they’re different, I mean. I don’t mean to be insulting, they’re simply…”
“Savage?” Shawna suggested.
“Definitely. At least some of them are.”
“You’re—you’re quite welcome to stay here, of course,” Shawna said, then she broke off.
Brother Damian was back in the tavern. He sat in the corner across from them. He lifted his tankard of ale to her, his cowl shrouding his thickly furred face.
“Who is that? Another local character?” Sabrina asked.
Shawna shook her head. “An irritating visitor,” she murmured.
Sabrina turned around. “That harmless friar?” she asked. She smiled at him.
Brother Damian nodded gravely in return.
“M’ladies?” Edwina said.
Shawna smiled at Edwina and was startled to see that Edwina was regarding Sabrina intently. It gave her a little chill. Some people believed that Edwina’s being a witch meant far more than the simple practice of her Wiccan religion. Edwina did have special talent. She could heal sores and blisters and all manner of sicknesses. She was said to have “the sight,” and very often, she had made predictions which had come true, most of them regarding the birth of a calf, the arrival of a storm, or the like. The Reverend Massey himself said that she was “touched by God’s hand,” and though he frowned upon her lack of interest in the Scottish church, he enjoyed debating with her, and stated frankly that he admired her abilities to heal—though, like others,he seemed uneasy with her ability to predict the future. Luckily, Edwina was blessed with the good sense to keep much of what she knew to herself.
“The cider is delicious,” Sabrina said, “though I might just as well have tried the ale.”
Edwina kept her eyes steadily upon Sabrina. “Cider’s good fer the bairn. I’ve seen far too many goodwives imbibe too freely when with child, and seen children born the more poorly for it.”
“Edwina, this is Miss Sabrina Connor,” Shawna said, frowning, then realized that Sabrina had gone as white as a sheet and was simply staring at Edwina.
“I don’t—I don’t know what—” Sabrina began.
But Edwina merely shook her head, glanced around and lowered her voice. “As you wish, Miss Connor. But your child is in danger, as are you—and you, milady.”
“Edwina—”
Edwina didn’t need prompting. She was anxious to speak quickly and be done with it.
“I had a dream about the young Laird David. I wandered into the Douglas crypt, and he was there, banging at the lid of his coffin, demanding it be opened. He lay there atop the corpse of another man. You were there, Lady Shawna, and he was beckoning to you, demanding that you help him. He said, ‘I live, I am laird of the castle, and I’ll not lie here murdered and moldering!’ But there were people in the shadows of the crypt, and they wanted Laird David to remain dead—and Lady Shawna, they wanted you dead as well and—” She broke off for a moment, shaking her head. Again, she stared at Sabrina. “I don’t quite understand my own dreams all the time, but you, Miss Connor, are in grave danger as well. Somehow, it is all connected. And I am telling you this simply because you must take the greatest care.”