So did Sabine, but Alex kept that to himself. He took a sip of his whiskey and then read the rest of the missive.
I have a special gift for you. I know how you like surprises so do come. I promise you will regret it if you do not.
S
Alex set his cup down and read the letter through twice more to himself. The message was veiled, the signature indeterminate, and the seal not her official one. But then, the countess was always careful.
“Do ye have any notion what this ‘special gift’ might be?” Connor asked, reading over his shoulder. “Other than the obvious.”
Alex shook his head. “No, but I’ll go to Edinburgh for ye and find out.”
“Ye should take the letter to Teàrlag,” Ilysa said.
Connor started at the sound of her voice. “Forgive me, Ilysa, I didn’t see ye there,” he said. “What do ye say, Alex? It can’t hurt to show the letter to the old seer.”
* * *
The wind whipped Connor’s hair as he adjusted the sail. “It feels good to be out on the water.”
“Ye should get out sailing more often.” Alex was concerned about his cousin. The weight of his responsibilities showed in the lines of weariness on his face.
It was a short sail to the seer’s cottage, which sat on a ledge between the mountains and the sea. The four of them had done it countless times as lads, but today, it was just Alex, Connor, and Ilysa in the boat. Duncan had gone with Ian to visit Sìleas and the babes—despite Alex’s warning that the twins were biters. Brave man.
“How is it that you have Shaggy’s boat and not me?” Connor asked.
“Because I love her best,” Alex said, patting the rail.
Connor laughed, a welcome sound. Ilysa, who fretted about Connor more than anyone, gave Alex a grateful look.
A short time later, they pulled the boat into the cove below Teàrlag’s house and climbed the slippery steps cut into the stone cliff. Teàrlag was waiting for them outside her cottage. Despite the mildness of the early summer day, she was hunched over with two shawls wrapped around her, as if facing a bracing wind.
“I saw ye coming,” she said, by way of greeting.
With her one good eye, Teàrlag couldn’t see much in the usual sense, but she was a seer of great repute. Most folk avoided her, for she had an unnerving proclivity for predicting death.
They went inside, and Ilysa unloaded the basket of food she’d brought while Alex and Connor sat down with Teàrlag at her tiny table.
“Hush, they’ll be gone soon,” Teàrlag said to her cow, who was mooing in complaint on the other side of the half wall that divided the cottage. “Ilysa, get my whiskey. ’Tis no every day I have a visit from our chieftain.”
“We need your help with a letter,” Connor said after they’d downed their drinks.
Alex unfolded the parchment and held it flat on the table. Of course, the seer couldn’t read, but that wasn’t the point of bringing it.
“It’s from a woman who says she has a special gift for me,” Alex said. “Can ye tell me what it might be?”
Teàrlag cackled. “A special gift? Is that what they call it now?”
Ach, even the old seer had to joke.
Ilysa helped Teàrlag to the hearth, took a small bowl of herbs from the shelf, and tossed a pinch onto the fire. After breathing deeply from the burst of pungent smoke, the old seer shuffled back to her stool and placed her hands on the letter.
“I see three women, Alex Bàn MacDonald,” she said in a far-off voice.
Only three? Alex hardly needed a seer to tell him there were women in his future. In fact, Teàrlag had been seeing women in his future since he was twelve.
“On your journey, three women will call on ye for help, and ye must give it,” she said. “But beware! One brings danger and another deceit.”
Alex rarely refused a woman anything, so this did not concern him. And a little danger and deceit just made things interesting.