The dog ran up to Faylinn as soon as she entered the stable. He howled his greeting, his shaggy body shaking wildly as he rubbed himself against her skirt. "Hello, boy. Yeah," she cooed fondly, "I missed you too." She sighed. "And someone else who lives here." She gave him a gentle pat on the head and straightened, exhaling with exaggerated slowness. Her eyes were riveted to the door to the back room. From inside of the stables, she now could see the tiniest slice of golden light coming from beneath the doorway and spilling out onto the fragrant hay that lined the floor. Thank God. No matter what, at least she’s here. Asleep, I’ll hazard.

"I’m going to go in there now," Faylinn told herself firmly, setting her resolve. But her feet didn’t move. She looked down in disgust. "All right, this time I mean it." And with gritted teeth, she forced herself across the room. She felt as if she was wading through a thick molasses swamp. Every step was a colossal effort as her disobedient legs did their best to ignore her brain’s command to hurry up and get this over with.

When she finally reached the door she groaned and let her forehead rest against the cool wood as she closed her eyes. Go on, Faylinn. You cannot avoid her forever. Pushing away from the door, she pulled the edges of her cloak together and dropped her hood, her golden hair spilling out over her shoulders. She swallowed and reached out for the door handle, but before she could open it, it flew open. "Whoa!" She stumbled backwards to avoid being struck.

When she found her legs, she glanced up. Breathless, she drank in the sight before her.

Bridget stood tall and proud in the bedroom doorway, backlit by a small flickering candle that cast long shadows across the walls. Her long hair was slightly disheveled as if she’d been sleeping or out in the wind.

Even through the near darkness Faylinn could see the keen awareness in her features.

The familiar thought that Bridget looked larger than life raced through Faylinn’s mind and, despite her concern, she was hard-pressed not to swoon. "Umm…" Bridget was staring at her and she found herself slightly tongue-tied. A little self-consciously, she squared her own shoulders. She can see right through me. I know she can. "Hello."

She’s all right. "Faylinn," Bridget acknowledged quietly. She stared down at her own boots for a moment before her eyes lifted. "You’re… Umm… You’re late." Dammit, that is not what I wanted to say.

Faylinn nodded slowly. At least she’s still talking to me. She starting moving forward, and Bridget backed into the room and allowed her to pass.

Faylinn immediately noticed the cold fireplace but decided not to comment. She tucked her hands inside her cloak. "We got more snow last night and the road was slow traveling."

"It’s all right." Bridget shrugged one shoulder with forced casualness. "I wasn’t really worried."

A tiny smile twitched at Faylinn’s lips. "You weren’t, huh?" she challenged quietly.

Bridget’s eyes softened in response to Faylinn’s smile and a tentative grin eased over worried features. "No. Not at all. Though I did miss you." After a second’s debate, she held one arm out in invitation.

Faylinn couldn’t close the distance between them fast enough. Her shoes scraped loudly on the rough wooden floors and before she knew it she was wrapped tightly in Bridget’s embrace. Her pulse was pounding so loudly she could barely hear anything else, and she felt Bridget’s thumping wildly against her chest in return. She wrapped her arms as tightly around the other woman as she dared, her relief so staggering she thought her knees would give way. "I’m sor–"

"I apologi–"

They both stopped and laughed in simple relief, though there was still a very faint, underlying tension between them.

"God, Bridget," Faylinn drew in a greedy breath of the darker woman’s scent, allowing it to flood her senses and calm her, "I wasn’t…" She stopped and swallowed past the lump in her throat, startled at how much just saying the words hurt. "I wasn’t sure if you’d be here when I got back. I know you’ve been going mad under my constant care. It’s just… just–" The words came out in a jumbled rush. "But…I… you were hurt. And I couldn’t make you… I just needed to help you."

Bridget pressed her nose in Faylinn’s hair and mumbled against the silken strands. "I know. It really is all right, Faylinn." She soaked in the sensation of Faylinn in her arms and faced up to a very basic truth about herself. "I’ll never leave you. I know I’m quite impossible sometimes." She licked her lips nervously but was determined to press on. "I love you far too much to even consider living without you, whether it is best for you in the long run or not." She placed a tender kiss on Faylinn’s head. "To my great shame, I am doubtlessly the most selfish bitch alive."

"You are not!" Faylinn shouted. "How can you question this? I know you feel it too. You are best for me in the long and short run. Don’t you dare say any different, Bridget," she warned her seriously. "I mean it. I have the Devil’s own temper when pushed." She stamped her foot for emphasis. "Hearing you talk like that taxes me beyond all reason. And if you do it again, I’ll… Well, I’ll…. I don’t know! But it will be fearsome. I guarantee that!"

A small, unexpected laugh bubbled up from within Bridget. "Fearsome?"

"Don’t you dare laugh at me!" But Faylinn couldn’t help but crack a smile herself. "You are quite stuck with me, whether you want to be or not." The curve of sensual lips, flash of white teeth, and eyes suddenly brimming with glittering tears let Faylinn know just how Bridget felt about that. Faylinn let out another more relaxed laugh.

Bridget drew in a deep breath and for a second Faylinn worried she would have another fight on her hands. But instead, to her delight, Bridget only nodded. "We are stuck with each other," she corrected warmly. Low and sweet, her voiced wrapped itself around Faylinn’s heart.

In the decades that still stretched before them, each would talk of many things, argue over countless subjects, and evoke tears of pain and laughter from the other. This question, however, was settled firmly on that cold Christmas Eve night… for all time.

Faylinn reluctantly loosened her death grip on Bridget, already missing the comforting warmth she’d been deprived of the past two days. Feeling drained, but knowing they still had several important things to discuss, she curled her fingers around Bridget’s and led her to the bed where they both sat down.

Bridget gently pushed Faylinn’s cloak from her shoulders. "Just a moment." The cloth was cold and damp and she got up to hang it near the fireplace.

She could feel something in the inside pocket and caught sight of the very tip of a bright red ribbon. She opened the cloak a little more for a better view and smiled to herself, knowing she had a gift for Faylinn hidden away as well. She wondered idly if the younger woman would make her wait until Christmas morning for her booty.

"No peeking," Faylinn called to her sternly.

Bridget jumped a little and her cheeks colored as though she were a child caught stealing sweets from her mother’s pantry. "That was not nice, Faylinn."

"It was so. Not nice would be making you wait till New Years just for peeking."

Bridget arched an eyebrow at her companion’s wicked streak and padded back to the bed. She sat down and kicked her feet up onto the soft surface. The silence between them lingered and, after the high emotions surrounding Faylinn’s homecoming, for once it was Bridget who found herself wanting to break it. Relentlessly, she picked at a loose thread in the quilt. Since this appears to be a night for confessions and brutal honesty…. "Faylinn?"

"Hmm?" Faylinn answered absently. She was twirling a lock of glossy dark hair between her fingers, enjoying its coarse but silky texture and the way the candlelight seemed to make it shimmer.

"It is…." Bridget stopped and kicked herself for not knowing where to start. But this was so hard.

"Yes?" Faylinn smoothed back Bridget’s unruly tresses and did her best to sit and wait patiently. The confused, stressed look on Bridget’s face, however, was enough to make her anxiety mount.

"My foul temper since coming to the mainland has not solely been because I needed to get out of this God be damned room for a while." Bridget gathered her courage and forced herself to tell Faylinn everything. "I’ve needed you these past weeks. I still do." Bridget looked away and completely missed Faylinn’s heartfelt smile. "More than I’ve ever needed anyone or anything in my life."

"I need you too, Bridget. You–"

"Let me finish." She pressed two fingers against Faylinn’s lips and continued despite the interruption. "And I’m afraid I haven’t handled it very well. On Cobb Island I felt that it was you who needed me. You needed to be rescued from Cyril. But now –" She gave her head a little shake and removed her fingers from Faylinn’s lips, very aware of their softness as she pulled away. Her voice dropped to the barest of whispers. "Everything has changed. I’ve never been so afraid."

When Faylinn sensed that Bridget wasn’t going to continue, she reminded her simply, "The most important things, Bridget, have not changed at all." She cupped Bridget’s cheeks with sure hands and stroked high cheekbones with her thumbs. Her gaze softened as she looked deeply into frightened pale eyes. "What is it that frightens you so?"

An embarrassed look chased across Bridget’s face and focused on the bedspread, falling silent once again.

Blonde brows knit tightly together. "Certainly not me."

Bridget sighed. "You don’t understand."

"Then help me," Faylinn whispered, clearly deeply adrift.

A sudden storm erupted in Bridget’s eyes. "That’s just it!" She tried to jerk her head from Faylinn’s hands, but the younger woman seemed to know what she was going do before she did it, and held her firm.

"No you don’t, Bridget." Then she tried another tack. "I’m mortally tired from our trip and I haven’t the energy to chase you all around this room. Please." Faylinn relaxed her hands again and her touch shifted into a tender caress.

As fast as it came, Bridget’s anger melted away under the soothing touch. She sighed.

"Please, love."

Bridget swallowed hard at the endearment and her breathing came a little faster.

"Tell me."

Bridget’s jaw worked for a moment, then she blurted out, "Don’t you see? I cannot help you!" She looked at Faylinn as though that explained everything.

Faylinn blinked as she searched Bridget’s face for any clue. "I’m sorry, I still don’t understand. I–"

"Look at me!" Bridget jerked away and swung her limp, slightly twisted arm towards the shorter woman, stifling a cry as a searing bolt of pain shot from her shoulder to the tips of her fingers. With her other hand, she pushed up her sleeve, exposing most of the damaged limb.

Faylinn did her best not to let her face show just how upset she really was. "Oh, Bridget." The full shirtsleeve had hidden the fact that the splint was gone from Bridget’s arm and before today it had always been heavily bandaged. Faylinn closed her eyes.

"Look," Bridget repeated roughly, shaking her arm until Faylinn complied. Now you’ll understand why I cannot be what you need.

"Bridget, you must give it time. It’s only been–" Faylinn paused and did the math, realizing grimly that the bone would have knitted together by now and that something must have gone terribly wrong. She’d replaced the splints many times, though it was always Will, who, at Bridget’s insistence, had changed the bandages.

The arm was crooked and, even with the splint on it, Faylinn had known that. But she’d always looked past its misshapen bones, assuming it would heal and somehow right itself with time. Or maybe I just didn’t want to see the truth, she admitted shamefully. She gently reached out and took the cool, relaxed hand in hers, feeling it twitch slightly at the unexpected contact. Its palm was soft and smooth, free from the small calluses that had characterized it before. She stroked the skin gently.

"It’s not a matter of time anymore, Faylinn." Bridget closed her eyes at Faylinn’s touch.

"It’s not your sword hand, Bridget."

Bridget’s eyes snapped open. "Bu–"

Faylinn silenced the protest with a look. "You’ve had your say, Bridget Redding. And now I shall have mine." She waited for the grumpy frown to leave Bridget’s face and for her to nod before she went on. "So stubborn," she mumbled. But her reassuring smile took the sting out of the words. "I want you to really listen to what I’m saying, not just hear it. You need to believe this as I do." For both our sakes.

Warily, Bridget nodded. There was nothing she would deny Faylinn.

"Even if you could no longer lift a sword at all, it wouldn’t matter." Faylinn sharply raised an eyebrow at Bridget and her gaping mouth, daring her to interrupt again. "I do not require a bodyguard. And despite your chivalrous inclinations, I never have." With great care she lifted Bridget’s injured hand, watching the larger woman’s face for the slightest flinch. Seeing none, she placed it on her own chest, directly over her heart. She held it there until she was certain Bridget could feel its strong beat. "I want more than that. I need more than that." As you have always given me, from the very start.

"Anything within my power, Faylinn. Anything I have is yours," Bridget swore fervently.

"I’m glad you said that." Faylinn smiled and gently removed Bridget’s hand from her chest, allowing it to rest in her lap. She shifted closer still, ignoring any sense of propriety and the butterflies in her stomach as she brought her face to within inches of Bridget’s.

She could see the rapid rise and fall of Bridget’s chest as she breathed and the flare of her nostrils as she reacted to Faylinn’s close proximity. Experimentally, and with all the tenderness she felt inside, she leaned in and placed a tiny, feather-light kiss at the very top of the jagged scar than ran from just outside Bridget’s eye to her jaw.

Bridget forgot how to breathe as tiny kisses worked their way down her face. Oh, God.

Faylinn heard a faint whimper and it increased her desire tenfold. Her stomach clenched and when she reached the end of the scar, the very tip of her tongue flicked out and licked it. She felt as much as she heard Bridget’s low growl of arousal. She pulled back and regarded the hooded eyes she felt certain she could lose herself in. Swallowing roughly Faylinn husked, "I cannot understand this, Bridget. If I am damned to hell for something that feels this right–"

"Then I am damned as well," Bridget whispered, each word sending a warm puff of air against Faylinn’s face. "Either way we will be together."

Faylinn’s gaze dropped to Bridget’s mouth and this time her heart refused to be denied. "So be it." She fully intended to move forward and capture what she’d desired for so long, but Bridget beat her to it.

Their lips met in gentle, consuming passion and both women hummed into the sweet contact. Small hands naturally found their way into thick tresses and Faylinn felt an answering arm wrap tightly around her waist and draw her to Bridget’s body.

It was like no kiss she’d ever experienced and Faylinn felt it all the way to her toes. Without effort, it chased away the room’s chill, though she still found herself shivering, helpless under Bridget’s spell.

Faylinn’s lips were soft and yielding and everything Bridget had dreamt they’d be. She moaned throatily when Faylinn gently parted her own lips with an inquisitive tongue and pushed softly forward into her mouth. She was enveloped in a blissful, staggering heat that robbed her of all reason. Bridget eagerly deepened the kiss, desperate to taste everything Faylinn was offering and more. Hot tongues swirled against each other, sliding together effortlessly but with mounting desire. With each passing second, Bridget’s blood pulsed hotter in her veins.

Unconsciously, Faylinn’s hands clenched tighter in Bridget’s hair and she used them as an anchor against the maelstrom of sensation. Her whole universe narrowed to the mouth loving hers so perfectly. There was a dull roaring in her ears and she realized in a far off way that it wasn’t the wind outside, but the frantic beating of her heart.

Shadows danced on the walls as the candle began to gutter. The wick neared its end, then fell sideways into the hot pool of aromatic beeswax, darkening the room further until it gave off only the barest flicker of light.

The kiss ended naturally, but not without several parting nibbles and whimpers from each woman.

Bridget pressed her forehead to Faylinn’s and let out a shuddering breath, her chest heaving. "Oh," she breathed, "that was…." Her words trailed off as she fought for some way to articulate the wash of bright emotion still swamping her senses.

"Mmm hmm." Faylinn agreed, too stunned to actually form a coherent sentence. She licked her moist lips, remembering the taste and exquisite feeling of Bridget’s tongue sliding against them. She groaned quietly as the mere thought sent a bolt of heat careening between her legs. Her groan gave way to a nervous gasp when the unfamiliar sensation caused a blossoming warmth deep in her belly to spread outward.

"We should have done that much sooner," Bridget finally said.

"God, yes," Faylinn breathed. She looked up into eyes gone nearly silver in the dim light and a shyness that Bridget hadn’t seen on Faylinn’s face since her earliest days on Cobb Island shone plainly through. "We… um…." God, why am I blushing now? "We will do that again, won’t we?" If she says no I shall drop dead on the spot. I know it.

Twin eyebrows disappeared behind dark bangs and Bridget laughed. "I certainly hope so." She gazed at Faylinn fondly and trailed a fingertip down the younger woman’s slightly upturned nose. "Merry Christmas, dearest. It must be well past midnight."

Faylinn’s expressive face was suddenly transformed into that of an excited adolescent. "Merry Christmas, love. It always was my favorite holiday," she paused and the face that was the very picture of youthful innocence only seconds before creased into a sexy grin, "I just never knew why until now."

Bridget scooted up to the head of the bed and patted the spot next to her, sparing a look at the candle that was threatening to die, but far too content to care. "You look lovely, by the way." She gestured to Faylinn’s new dark-brown dress with her chin. "Though I must admit, I find you adorable in trousers."

Faylinn laughed. "That’s doubly good then," she tugged at her collar, "because, and don’t you dare tell Katie, this itches like the Devil’s own backside."

"I won’t," Bridget chuckled and shook her head indulgently. Her gaze moved from Faylinn’s eyes to her golden hair and she admired it openly. After the kiss they’d shared she felt somewhat more comfortable showing and voicing her appreciation. Gone were the days of stealing jealous glances at her sister-in-law. She hoped. Bridget gently tugged on a strand of pale hair. "You should wear it down more often. It is too beautiful to hide."

Faylinn joined Bridget at the head of the bed, then reached up self-consciously and felt her head. Her braids and pins had worked themselves free, but since she’d worn her hood all day, she hadn’t bothered bringing it back to order. Now it hung loosely across her shoulders and down to the center of her back. "Thank you." She took the opportunity to examine Bridget’s attire, and made a face. "You are the most beautiful creature I have ever laid eyes on, Bridget." She grinned broadly. It felt so good to be able to say that out loud without fear of censure, reproach, or even damnation. "However, you look as though you have a blind seamstress."

Bridget bit her bottom lip in an attempt to ward off her laughter. "It’s not that bad," she offered diplomatically, still struggling to keep a straight face.

Faylinn sighed and pinned Bridget with a knowing look. "You’re right. It’s worse. Your seamstress was not only blind, but daft as well." She tugged on Bridget’s sleeve and snorted. "This is pitiful."

"Tch." But this time Bridget couldn’t suppress her laughter. "I, for one, think precise measurements are highly over-rated. I’ll have you know this is my favorite piece of clothing."

Faylinn’s eyes narrowed playfully. "You only have one other shirt, Bridget."

A dark eyebrow arched. "Yes, but I like this one more, therefore it is my favorite." She artfully changed the subject. "How was your first experience in a Colonial town? Did you find what you expected?"

The blood suddenly drained from Faylinn’s face. Sweet Mother, how could I have forgotten? "I… I–"

"Hey," Bridget frowned. "What’s the matter?" She turned sideways so she was fully facing the younger woman. "Faylinn?"

"No." Faylinn licked her lips. "I didn’t expect to find…." The blonde woman swallowed hard. So much had happened tonight, she had intended on telling Bridget sooner, but… Her face dropped into her hands. Where is my mind? When she said she’d never leave me she didn’t know. What if…?

Bridget gently pulled Faylinn’s hands away from her face and ducked her head so that she could look directly at Faylinn’s face. "You’re frightening me, Faylinn. Did you run into to someone who knew who you were?" Her eyes widened. "God, why didn’t you say something sooner?" Bridget fairly flew off the bed, cursing roundly as she lost her balance and stumbled a step sideways. "We need–"

Faylinn grabbed her by the shirt to steady her. When the tall woman had found her legs, Faylinn tried to haul her back onto the bed. "That’s not–"

Bridget slapped away her hands. "Faylinn! We must hurry! You–"

Faylinn sighed and grabbed for her shirt again, getting a better hold this time and tugging firmly. "Bridget, please–"

"Faylinn, I mean it! There’s no time to–"

"Stop! By God, Bridget will you calm down and get back onto this bed? The Crown is not hunting me down. I’m pregnant!"

Bridget’s jaw hit the floor.

Faylinn cringed. Just wonderful. "I didn’t mean to tell you like that."

Bridget blinked stupidly.

"Since coming to the mainland I haven’t… I mean, I never got my…." Faylinn just shook her head. "At Katie’s insistence I visited a mid-wife in town." The older woman’s stunned silence sent Faylinn’s mind racing and her speech grew faster. "Please understand, Bridget. Cyril expected, no, demanded more heirs." She sighed and rubbed her temples with trembling hands, not wanting to think about the wretched nights her husband would visit her bedchamber and forcibly remind her of her wifely duties. Her stomach twisted into a solid knot. "By my heart, it was never my choice."

The room was as quiet as a grave and Faylinn was seconds away from an all out panic. Then she squinted through the near darkness and took in her companion’s ghostly pallor. "Sit down, love. Before you pass out." She gave Bridget’s sleeve another tiny tug and it tore away from the rest of the shirt, ending up a rag in her hands. She rolled her eyes. "Why am I not surprised?"

The candle hissed and released a tiny plume of inky smoke before the room went black.

Bridget dropped limply back onto the bed. She looked to where she knew Faylinn was sitting and with eyes as round as saucers exclaimed–

***

"Pregnant?" Kayla and Liv chorused.

Badger burst into laughter and slapped his kilt-covered knee. "Oh, lasses, that’s just what Bridget said."

"Wow," Liv said. She blinked a few times, trying to absorb the news. "I didn’t see that coming at all."

Badger nodded. "And according to family legend, neither did Bridget."

"Cyril was a first class asshole," Kayla muttered darkly, her thoughts still swimming in the past. "How could he do that? He raped her."

Badger and Liv’s expressions both went very serious. "Ay, that’s what people would say today."

Kayla glanced up at him and he wasn’t surprised to see a storm brewing behind her eyes. Faylinn reminded her so much of Liv that she couldn’t stop herself before the words were out. "Are you saying differently?" she challenged.

"Kayla," Liv warned softly. She could feel the upset in her partner and wondered if perhaps it wasn’t time to leave Cobb Manor and come back another day. The restless waves of dark, edgy energy flowing from her lover were causing an unsettling feeling in the pit of her stomach. "He didn’t say that."

The white-haired man met Kayla’s level gaze, his own every bit as steely. "No, lass. She was taken against her will and that the man was her husband doesn’t change that. Although at the time I don’t believe that Faylinn herself would have called it rape, it was that. What I was laughing at before was the surprised expression on both your faces when I told you she was with child. Not how she got that way."

Kayla suddenly felt ashamed and she glanced down at her hands, threading her fingers together nervously. She twiddled her thumbs a few times. I need to get a grip. It’s over and done with. I can’t change it or help. It’s not Liv. She’s right here, looking at me as though I’ve lost my ever-lovin’ mind. "Of course. I uh…." She paused and chewed the inside of her cheek. "I just said the first thing that popped into my head. And I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry."

"Well." Awkwardly, Badger stood and cleared his throat. "No harm done. As I said before, some of the tale is dark in the tellin’." He tried to smile at Kayla and let her know that he wasn’t angry, but she refused to meet his eyes. Lord knows the first time I heard the tale I was fit to be tied myself. "Do you lasses have to be getting back to town? There’s more to tell if you’re willing and have the time."

Liv’s worried eyes shifted from her lover to Badger. "I’m not sure." She turned back to Kayla and moved aside a dark shock of hair so she could rest a reassuring palm on the back of Kayla’s neck. "Maybe we could just take a break?"

"Aye. Of course." Badger stretched his thick arms above his head. "Let me get some blood moving around in these old legs. I think the last tour for the day should be coming through the parlor soon." He looked at Liv, his eyebrows raised in question. "I’ll drop in on them and say hello, then stop back?"

Liv smiled kindly and mouthed ‘thank you’ to their host.

Badger gave her a ghost of a wink and left the room without a sound.

As soon as he cleared the doorway Liv focused on Kayla. "You wanna tell me what just happened?"

Kayla’s eyebrows pulled tightly together as she thought.

The silence went on so long that Liv was sure she wasn’t going to answer. Then, seemingly out of the blue she said, "This is why I spend my time alone. I don’t know how to do this."

Liv hadn’t been expecting such a serious, general answer. Oh, boy. "Do what, honey?"

Kayla gestured aimlessly. "This. Talk. Chat. Be nice."

"You are nice," Liv insisted, stroking Kayla’s neck.

"Uh huh. That’s why after one evening together on vacation you knew more about my own sister than I did. That’s why your brother Dougie looks at me like he’s afraid I’m just going to lose it any second and cause him to wet his pants. That’s why, when we go someplace together, taxi drivers, waitresses, hotel stewards, all of them, talk to you and not me and look grateful that they have a choice."

Liv’s mouth went a little slack at the steady stream of words coming from her quiet partner.

"That’s why Glen deals with all clients unless they insist otherwise. My telling them to ‘go to hell’ or walking out in the middle of a meeting if I don’t think they’re sincere in their claims is always a great way to win friends and succeed in business." Her eyes begged Liv to understand. "I’m just not good at this."

For a second, Liv was stunned. She let her hand drop from the warm neck she was stroking, wrapping her fingers around Kayla’s instead. "The way you’re good at everything else?"

Their eyes met and Kayla felt as though Liv was looking right through her. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, that was a little part of it too. Her eyes darted back to her hands. "I suppose."

"It’s really okay, Kayla." Liv softened her voice and that did the trick as Kayla’s head lifted, and once again they were looking eye to eye. "Badger wasn’t angry and I do understand." And she did. Being a genius gave Kayla obvious advantages in almost everything she tackled. She’d succeeded most of the time — so long as intellect was the key. But when it came to the highly illogical and volatile things like emotions, Kayla was truly a babe in the woods. At heart she was a loner, and many social situations were trying at best.

"You do?" Kayla eyed the blonde woman warily.

"I think so. You’re a natural introvert and no amount of socializing is ever really going to change that. As a teen you were taller than everyone else, gangly," she paused and smiled affectionately, "probably clumsy and definitely impossibly beautiful–"

Kayla opened her mouth but Liv silenced her with a raised finger. She wasn’t finished yet.

"You liked girls not boys and were so smart that nobody knew what to do with you."

A startled look planted itself on Kayla’s face.

"As if all that wasn’t enough, you had special telepathic abilities that set you apart from everyone else and even you couldn’t fully understand and appreciate them. People hurt you because of it, and you moved deeper inside yourself where you felt safe and comfortable." She leaned forward and kissed Kayla’s forehead. Her lips lingered on the spot. "And you’ve been living in there as much as possible ever since." She sighed and backed away. "I know that interacting with people is hard for you and doesn’t always work out the way you want. But that will change with practice," she assured. "I promise."

The painfully open expression on Kayla’s face made Liv’s heart clench.

"You think?"

Liv nodded. "I know so. I’m not shocked in the least that you’re a quiet person who is more comfortable in their own head than anywhere else. After everything you’ve been through, I’m actually surprised you don’t stay there more often."

The younger woman’s face relaxed into a smile. She was utterly charmed by Liv’s keen insight and the fact that she’d obviously taken the time to understand her on a level that no one else had cared enough to even consider. "The answer to that’s easy, Liv" She knocked on her own head. "It’s lonely up here."

As quickly as the words were out, Kayla watched in fascination as tears welled up in her partner’s eyes. She cupped Liv’s chin tenderly. "You’re out here." She gestured to the room. "And now I’m not lonely anymore."

Liv sniffed and despite herself a tear splashed onto her cheek. Her smile was full of affection. "I’m not lonely anymore either." Her voice cracked and she sniffed again.

Kayla carefully wiped the salty tear away with her thumb.

They neither one quite remembered how it happened, but somehow their lips met and what started out as a kiss of comfort and affection sparked into something much deeper and infinitely more passionate.

"Well, now," Badger boomed from only a few feet away, his hands on his hips. He grinned. "I can see that everything is back to normal. If I came into the room and you two weren’t kissing, I’d think something was wrong."

Liv and Kayla separated and looked up at Badger with twin guilty grins and flaming cheeks. They’d been so absorbed in each other they hadn’t even heard him come in.

The old man scratched his white whiskers and shook his head. "Shall we give it another go?"

Kayla rubbed her red cheeks furiously, trying to remove the blush. How many times was she going to let Badger catch her making out with Liv like some horny teenager? Just then Liv scooted a little closer and the smell of her lover’s shampoo and skin gently flooded her senses, surrounding her in a sensual fog. She knew that as many times as Badger left her alone with this enticing woman was as many times as he’d catch them kissing.

Kayla smiled to herself and glanced at her watch. "We can stay for a while longer. But not too long." She nudged Liv. "Our readings from the Keith House should be ready to go within the hour."

Liv nodded and settled the blanket that had fallen to the floor during her groping of Kayla back on their knees. "Anything you can start and finish in an hour, Badger?" she asked the old Scot, seeing an immediate spark of competitiveness flare in wise eyes.

"Aye." He puffed up his barrel-chest a bit. "I am the family storyteller, you know. I think I can manage."

Kayla and Liv both nodded gravely and Kayla bit back a smile. If she sat back and was quiet long enough, she figured she was sure to learn a lot about handling people from Liv. "We know," Kayla said as she finally let go of her impatience at Badger’s insistence on spinning his tale according to his own time line and not hers. "We’d love to hear more."

He sensed Kayla’s quiet surrender and gave her a respectful nod as he moved back to his seat. "Very well." Badger tugged at his belt and shifted back and forth in the seat until he groaned happily.

Liv figured that meant he’d finally found a comfortable spot.

Badger smoothed his kilt with one hand, tempted to take out his pipe. But his audience was ready and so he would have to wait for a soothing smoke until later, when he could annoy Sylla with the stench. "Faylinn was with child and though Bridget cursed her brother’s name for the way he treated his bride, she loved Faylinn no less for it. She vowed to take care of both mother and child as best she could, loving them with all her heart and protecting them with her dying breath. But no matter how Faylinn reassured her, she knew that only having one good arm would be a constant source of worry and self-doubt. So she set about fixing that problem the only way she knew how. And in doing so, she got back two pieces of her life that she thought she’d left behind on Cobb Island forever…."

Bridget sat comfortably on a large driftwood log on the beach. She watched the short, foamy waves crash rhythmically against the shore, sending up a spray of salty mist as water met land. A strong, cold breeze blew her hair from her eyes and caused her cloak to billow and flutter. She’d taken the long walk here every day for a week. And waited.

Cobb Island loomed dark and barren in the distance, and she was bound and determined that no ship would dock there without her knowledge. It was, she knew, almost time for the Royal Navy to return. They would have undoubtedly heard of Cyril’s death by now and would ferry her nieces, and whatever slaves that hadn’t already escaped, to a larger port in South Carolina or perhaps New York, where they would book passage on a ship returning to England. The girls’ tender ages and the lack of a male guardian in the house would insure they would not be permitted to stay on the Island.

Bridget wondered if Judith would have the wherewithal to keep control of the family property and not allow it to wholly fall into the hands of her father’s slave trader business partners or the male cousins in England who would use this chance to try and increase their own holdings. She smiled to herself. Her niece was a smart, sensitive girl whose gentle demeanor went a long way towards hiding her strong will. Though it wouldn’t come easily, Bridget was confident that Judith would grow into her role as family matriarch and would be a force to be reckoned with. Bridget tried not to think of Judith’s twin, Elizabeth. The girl’s betrayal had cut Bridget to the bone and was still a source of shame and sorrow.

"You’re looking awfully serious," came the soft voice. Faylinn sat down beside her and the brittle wood shifted and creaked under the added weight.

"Faylinn! What are you doing here?" Bridget instantly scooted closer to the younger woman. She pulled the edges of Faylinn’s cloak tightly together and frowned at her pink, wind-burned cheeks. "You’re cold."

Faylinn laughed. "I am fine, truly." She shrugged one shoulder and looked a little embarrassed. "I just wanted to be with you."

In mild exasperation, Bridget lifted one of Faylinn’s legs and dusted her calf free of snow.

Faylinn grinned indulgently and held her tongue as Bridget fussed.

She repeated the process with Faylinn’s other leg and set it down gently. "So you tramped several miles through the snow to find me?"

"I knew where you were," Faylinn answered reasonably. She stretched her legs, and kicked her feet out in a mixture of snow and sand. "You told me yourself."

Bridget slid her hand out of one of the warm leather gloves Faylinn had given her for Christmas. She parted Faylinn’s cloak carefully and laid her palm on the still flat belly she found there. "How are you feeling?" Her eyes narrowed slightly and she considered collecting some wood for a fire. "Still nauseous?"

Faylinn laughed, absorbing the warmth of Bridget’s hand and her concern with almost giddy pleasure. "No," she replied dreamily. "I feel absolutely wonderful. But I do love you so for asking." For the millionth time she counted herself lucky that Bridget had been so accepting of her pregnancy. It had, she knew, complicated things to no end, but she couldn’t really bring herself to think of it as a bad thing. She firmly believed in her heart what Bridget had assured her on Christmas Eve: a child is a blessing to be treasured and cherished, a gift whose value cannot be measured, and that any future trials they would face would be handled together.

Bridget leaned forward and gently brushed her lips against Faylinn’s, drawing a soft sigh of pleasure from her friend. Then she wrapped her arm around Faylinn’s shoulder and they both looked out at the sea, content to share the gray afternoon together in comfortable silence.

Their physical relationship had not progressed past kissing, and though Faylinn wasn’t sure what they could even do past that, Bridget most certainly was. She’d been courted by several young men during her teenage years, all of whom would have been suitable mates and potential business partners for her brother and father. But even then, she’d already decided that marriage was not for her. Her mind, her will, and most certainly her body, were hers alone, and to her parents’ great distress and her brother’s endless censure, she’d outright refused to surrender them to anyone. Little did she know, a pair of soulful green eyes and a young woman’s fiery spirit would capture her so completely.

Whether or not to surrender every part of herself was never a really a question at all.

Bridget’s male suitors had been turned away without so much as a peck on the cheek. That did not, however, keep her from engaging in several brief but pleasurable liaisons with some of the Court’s most eligible young women. She snorted softly at the hypocrisy of these girls, who had privately been eager to taste the forbidden, but in public were among the first to vigorously scorn such disgusting, sinful behavior.

The noise drew Faylinn’s attention from the water and she turned to Bridget, bestowing on her a lovely, youthful smile that made Bridget’s heart beat faster. Yes, dearest, we do need to have an intimate conversion.

Faylinn turned back to the water, enjoying the salty mist on her face and the warm body nestled close to hers.

The small hand on Bridget’s knee slid innocently up her thigh, stopping just short of the crease between her hip and leg. She swallowed hard. That talk would have to be soon.

"Bridget!"

The taller woman jumped and pushed Faylinn’s hand off her thigh, instantly feeling guilty for her lascivious thoughts. "What?"

"Look." Faylinn pointed to Cobb Island.

Approaching from the northwest was a large ship, sails of all three masts flying high.

"At last." Bridget sighed.

Faylinn looked at her curiously. Her memories of the Island were a mixture of joy and stark misery, and while the many good times with Henry and Bridget went a long way towards canceling out some of the horror she’d experienced, she shuddered at the thought of going back. "Why should it matter when the girls leave the island?"

"Because I intend to go back there and they must be gone before that can happen." Bridget looked at her companion compassionately. "I don’t expect you to join me, Faylinn. Though maybe someday you’ll feel differently. There is a beauty even in the harshness of Cobb Island."

"But–"

"You’ve been vomiting for weeks. Do you really want to embark on even a short trip across rough waters?"

Faylinn turned a peculiar shade of green at the mere idea. Bridget did have a point. "Can I ask why you feel the need to go back then? Surely, the house will be empty and your possessions gone?"

Bridget stood and brushed off her cloak. She offered her hand to Faylinn. "Because there is something important there that I want to reclaim. And if I know Judith the way I think I do, it will be waiting for me when I return."

***

Will threw his back into the job and, with a great grunt and as much assistance as Bridget could manage, he heaved the rowboat up onto the shore. The dock in front of the house was only moments away, but Will was worried about the gloomy skies and had decided it was safer to walk the rest of the way to the house than it was to row there.

He and Bridget both dropped onto their backs on the island’s dark-soiled beach, panting from their exertions. They had each taken an oar, Bridget one-handed, and made good time from the mainland.

Faylinn and Katie had flatly refused to allow them to make the trip earlier in the month, insisting instead that they wait until the waters had calmed. Initially both Bridget and Will had refused, but then Faylinn made it clear to Bridget that if she was going to risk her life it wouldn’t be without her. And that threat was one Bridget took seriously. This particular trip was no place for Faylinn.

Nearly two weeks of solid rain mixed with high winds had delayed the trip far longer than Bridget would have liked. She had, however, ultimately found herself begrudgingly agreeing with the blonde woman’s sharp words. Coming home alive took precedence over her natural impatience. And so they had waited.

The skies were overcast and restless and even though it was still early afternoon the Island was cast in long, ominous shadows. Will took off his hat and wiped his sweaty brow with the back of his arm.

His muddy-brown eyes surveyed the land curiously and with more than a touch of apprehension. Even with the leaves gone and most of the plant-life dry or dead, a dense impenetrable curtain of vegetation surrounded the island, making it look like a fortress. He scowled. "The view of this island up from its own shores is even more harsh and ugly than from the mainland. The entire place looks damned to me. I can’t believe your brother chose to put a house here."

Bridget snorted harshly. "He chose to put a house here because it is the perfect port for slave trading. Large slave hulls can anchor in the deep waters off this island and avoid the reef closer to shore. Here, they transfer the slaves onto smaller, waiting boats that will carry them to the mainland and the auction block."

"Ah." Will nodded cautiously. That was a good idea. Many a ship had run aground on the reef that lined the shore for many miles. "Too bad the peddling of human flesh is such a nasty trade." Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Bridget, wondering if she would agree, despite the fact that selling slaves had no doubt added to the Redding family fortune.

Her face was grim. "I know." She pushed awkwardly to her feet. "Let’s go."

Will called after her, "Where exactly are we goin’?" When Bridget announced she was planning a trip to the Island, Faylinn had begged him to go along so she wouldn’t be alone. To his surprise, Bridget had instantly agreed. She never would tell him exactly why. "Hey! Wait for me." He resettled his hat and sped up his pace as Bridget disappeared into the dry forest ahead of him.

After a half-hour of climbing over brittle vines, and weaving between endless dead branches, they rounded a corner and the landscape seemed to open up, bringing the house into view.

"Gadzooks!" Will’s mouth dropped open. He couldn’t get over how quickly the look of the Island had changed and the amazing, undeniably beautiful house he was now face to face with. "It’s… why it’s enormous!" he sputtered, craning his neck to get a better view of the third floor.

A bored expression crossed Bridget face. "Cyril’s architectural masterpiece." She snorted. "If it were up to me, I’d burn the place down." Then she remembered the history that Afia had sworn to compile and hide someplace deep within the bowels of the house. God willing, it would be discovered by future generations. "But I cannot."

Will’s eyes darted from side to side, then he rocked back on his heels and grinned engagingly. "I don’t see anyone here to stop us."

Bridget smiled. Will Beynon, a rebel at heart? Who’d have guessed? Despite his grumpy, usually gruff mannerisms, she truly liked Will. And he adored Faylinn. In Bridget’s estimation, anyone who felt that way had exemplary taste and was obviously a person of keen insight. "It’s not my place to decide what happens to the house. My niece is the head of the household now."

They walked up the winding path that led to the front door, but instead of going inside, as Will had expected, Bridget detoured around the side of the house, her boots crunching loudly in the shallow snow.

When she reached the back, she lifted her fingers to her mouth and gave a shrill whistle. "Apollo! Show yourself! Apollo!"

Will’s eyes widened. "You’re…" He swallowed. "You’re calling to a pagan God?" He looked around nervously, half-afraid of what would happen next. Perhaps she was a witch after all.

Bridget’s face was a cross between compassion and impatience. "You needn’t fear me, Will. Apollo is my steed. And I’ve sorely missed him."

"Ahh… Whew." Relief flooded through him. "Now that I can understand." He tugged up on his waist of his trousers, a little ashamed at his sudden fear. "Back home, when I was a lad in Wales, I had a brown filly that ran like the wind." He smiled wistfully. "Since coming to the Colonies I haven’t been able to afford another. Mules are cheaper and better suited to frontier life anyway." His voice was somber and tinged with regret.

He scratched his bristly, square jaw. "Wouldn’t the Navy have taken the horse with them?" That was his nice way of saying that no officer of the Crown would have allowed a beast of quality to be set free in the wild, not if there was profit to be made by its sale. Transporting horses from England to the Colonies was an expensive and risky proposition at best. Their price at market reflected that fact.

Bridget frowned. "Perhaps. But I won’t know for certain until I look, now will I?" She strode towards the stable calling out ‘Apollo’ the entire way. When she reached her destination she stopped dead in her tracks. The stable door had been propped wide open by a bale of hay. A bolt of fear lanced through her. "Apollo?" Carefully, and with Will trailing curiously behind her, she poked her head inside the doorway. It was dark and the building had lost most of its familiar scent. Patches of dirty snow covered the ground and the bales of dried grass near the door.

Bridget’s gaze narrowed as she peeked into the darkness and stepped inside. Her heart began to pound wildly and she told herself she had to be strong no matter what she found. She hadn’t shared with Will her deepest fear, that Apollo had been killed. Animals were often believed to be in league with their witch masters and it wouldn’t be unheard of for a horse to be hung by the neck or burnt at the stake exactly as his master had been. Exactly as they tried to do to me.

Just then her gaze lit upon a dark, still shadow in the corner stall, and her face went ashen. No, she anguished silently. Her breath exploded from her chest in harsh pants as she tried to make out what she was seeing. Her feet refused to take her any closer.

Then… she heard it. Something in the corner. Her eyes darted back and forth wildly but she couldn’t see what was producing the noise, she only knew it was coming closer and closer.

"Buh!" Bridget jumped backwards as family of raccoons darted out from beneath a pile of hay and made for the door. Her presence has scared them nearly as badly as they had frightened her and they ran in panicked circles until finally skittering over her boots and escaping out the door.

Bridget’s yell startled Will so badly that he lost his balance and stumbled over his own two feet, ending up on his butt in the snow. "Ouch," he complained belatedly, in a flat voice.

"Damn." Bridget’s covered her face with her hand and laughed mirthlessly. After a moment, she took a deep breath and walked to the side wall where she violently tore open a shutter, tearing it off the wall in the process. Gray light poured into the room and with her heart in her throat she stared at the last stall, seeing clearly what had only been outlined in shadows before.

A saddle and set of tack hanging from a hook on the wall.

"Sweet Mother." She nearly sank to her knees in relief.

Will looked on in wonder, having no earthly idea what had just happened. He stood up and rubbed his backside, his eyes following Bridget as she crossed the room. "I can’t believe they’d leave valuable goods like that."

"I can," Bridget answered absently as she plucked a note from between the leather folds of the saddle and began to read.

Dearest Aunt Bridget,

After the shock wore off, I realized that you are far too stubborn to ever truly give up on anything. Especially yourself. As surely as my own heart beats, however, I know that you are alive but that I shall never lay eyes upon you again. Of Faylinn’s ultimate fate, I am less certain. If God is truly merciful and good then Faylinn is with you, wherever that may be.

I pray that someday you are able to forgive Elizabeth the darkness that dwells within her. It is a part of her as surely as good was, is, a part of you. She cannot change that. Yet I have faith that in time and with love she will learn to temper it. There IS good inside her.

No doubt you are here for Apollo. Rest assured that he lives and that I refused to surrender him to the Royal Navy. He could only ever have one master. He has been set free.

As you have.

The ship and my twin await, so I must close. Be well, Auntie.

In love and eternal respect,

Judith Redding

January 2, 1691

 

Bridget neatly folded the note and slid it into a pocket of her trousers. "Stubborn?" She laughed weakly and closed her eyes. Thank you, Judith. Goodbye and be well.

"Bridget?

Her back to Will, Bridget opened her eyes as she straightened, resettling her cloak on her shoulders. "He’s here." She turned and smiled. "We need only find him."

Will smiled back, responding instinctively to the enthusiasm on Bridget’s face. "Where do we start?"

Bridget walked past him and back outside. She thought of her long time confidant, who, for most of her time here, was her only real friend. "C’mon. It’s a fair walk but I have an idea."

She began leading Will to the far side of the island and as they progressed the man decided to ask something he’d been wondering about for weeks. "Bridget?"

"Hmm?" She carefully stepped around a jagged stump.

"How is it you survived execution?"

Her step faltered, but she got hold of herself quickly and kept going. "Why haven’t you asked me sooner, Will?" She had seen the question on his face many times, heard his thoughts as he debated whether or not to voice them.

He let out a long breath, sending a pillar of fog from his mouth. "Because of Faylinn. Katie asked her once and she burst into tears." His heavy brow furrowed. "I thought it a subject best saved for when I was away from her company."

"Thank you," Bridget said softly, well aware that the subject of her execution was still too raw for Faylinn to speak about.

"Does she know?"

Bridget slowed her pace until Will was walking directly alongside her. "Does she know what?"

"How you survived."

"Ahh…" Bridget’s face grew serious. "Yes, she knows. We spoke of it once, when we first came to stay with you. It–" She paused, trying to find the right words. "It’s… hard for her, I suppose. She was there that night and truly believed, like everyone else, that I was dead. "

"If you don’t want to–"

Bridget shook her head. "No, Will, I’ll tell you." She cracked a smile. "Though the simple truth is probably less dramatic than you’ve imagined." To Bridget’s surprise, Will burst out laughing. In all the time she’d known him it was something she’d only seen once or twice.

"You don’t want to know what I’ve imagined."

Bridget smiled wryly and pointed to the left. "Pretty ridiculous, huh?"

Will filed in behind her as she began walking in the direction she’d pointed. "Tell me what happened and I’ll be the judge of whether or not it was ridiculous."

"Fair enough." Their trek began slanting upward and Bridget picked up a long stick as she walked, swinging it aimlessly as she recounted the events of that night.

"It was raining. No," she shook her head, "that’s not quite right. It wasn’t just raining. It was storming as though the heavens themselves were falling down around us. Lightning pierced the sky and thunder shook the entire island. Waves broke against the shore like great walls crashing down and hail pounded us when the rain finally gave way to the cold."

"I remember that night. We were holed up at home, afraid the world was coming to an end. I’ve never seen a storm like that."

"I was taken to the cliffs to be burned at the stake."

"In the pouring rain?"

Bridget and Will both snorted and indulged in a bit of gallows humor. "I never claimed my brother was clever."

"Poor Faylinn."

"Indeed. Anyway, the men of the Royal Navy, who were there to perform the execution, couldn’t even keep their torches lit; they decided that hanging would suit their purpose just as well. What they didn’t plan on was Faylinn. Cyril hadn’t told her what was to take place, but somehow she found out. She arrived at my execution scene atop Apollo amid the flashes of lightning. It was like something from a book and I had never seen her look so magnificent. She tried to reason with my brother before it was too late."

"Stop this madness before it’s too late. She is your sister for God’s sake. This will be an error you can never undo!"

Bridget’s lips formed a thin line. "But he would not be dissuaded and became hysterical with jealously. ‘Hang the witch!’ he shouted as he glared at me with eyes as cold and stony as a tomb." Now Bridget smiled. "He and I both got the surprise of our lives when Faylinn turned on her heels and flew into my arms with such force she nearly knocked me over." Bridget stopped her story and glanced back at Will uncertainly. "Will," she began hesitantly, "before I go on, I need to make certain that you understand–"

"That Faylinn loves you? And you her?" he answered casually.

Bridget blinked. Was it that obvious? Neither he nor Katie, who talked incessantly, had ever said a word!

His dark eyes twinkled. "I knew that the first day when Faylinn came pounding on my door and begged us to help you. That girl’s emotions are written all over her face. If you had died I feel certain we would have ended up burying you both. I wasn’t sure you felt the same way until the day I saw you together in the yard and she had her hands on her hips in that scolding way I’ve seen Katie use a million times, insisting it was time for your bandages to be changed and a bath. I heard you mumbling and cursing. But when she held out her hand you stepped forward and grasped it instantly." He winked. "A lamb led to the slaughter, you were."

Bridget felt her cheeks grow hot, chasing away the chill of the wind.

"I suppose that’s about as good a showing of true love as I’ve ever seen." Will leaned against a tree with one hand. "But we can never speak of it, Bridget." He slipped off his hat and ran his hands through his sweaty hair before replacing it firmly. "My Katie is a devout woman and, as much as she cares for you and Faylinn, this is something her faith would never allow her to accept. If it comes down to it, though it would sadden me greatly, I would not ask her to compromise that. I cannot."

Though it wasn’t what Bridget wanted to hear about Katie, she couldn’t help but respect Will’s decision. "You have my word, Will Beynon. The tender feelings Faylinn and I share will never be made clear to your wife."

Will grinned wryly. "I don’t think you’ll have too many problems. She has come to accept even the most… er… ‘intense’ displays of affection between you as the new standard for sisterhood everywhere. I only thank God that Katie has no such sisters or I would be as useful as tits on a boar."

Bridget couldn’t help but chuckle. She slapped Will on the shoulder and grinned broadly, relieved that at least he was willing to take her love for Faylinn in his stride. It was more than she had any right to expect. She made a mental note to explain the situation to Faylinn that evening when she returned.

Their climb grew steeper and she could hear Will’s breathing pick up. "I’ll continue then."

The younger woman crushed her lips against Bridget’s in unrestrained passion, pressing a small, hidden dagger in her love’s hands. "I love you," she whispered fiercely against Bridget’s mouth as she kissed her thoroughly, smiling through the kisses when she heard her words echoed. "Please live," she whispered again as Cyril tore her away from Bridget, and the tall woman tucked the dagger underneath her cloak, out of view.

"Then Cyril began babbling about me enchanting his wife, and the soldiers began to circle me, intent on carrying out the execution even if it meant simply running me through with their blades."

Will shivered, more from the coldness in Bridget’s voice than the chill in the air.

"I fixed my eyes on the first man I would kill, determined not to meet my Maker alone, when I saw…" Her jaw worked for a moment and she swallowed a few times before she could continue. "I saw my pig-assed brother with his sword at Faylinn’s throat, ready to murder her before my eyes." She heard Will’s angry growl behind her and grinned savagely in concert.

"Bastard!" Will spat.

"I’ve always suspected."

Tiny snowflakes began to fall.

"Cyril’s eyes locked with mine and I knew he would kill her if I continued to struggle. I had no choice." Bridget couldn’t tell Will about the look in Faylinn’s eyes when her decision became clear, or the young woman’s desperate cries. They still tore at her soul and haunted her nightmares. Discussing them, even with Will, was out of the question. "So then I did it," she said simply.

Did it? "Did what?"

The smell of the sea was getting stronger now and Bridget could hear the waves beating against the rocks. Tiny snowflakes landed on her hair and on her face, disappearing as quickly as they touched warm skin. "I jumped."

"Jumped?"

"You’ll see." Her words were prophetic because at that very moment they stepped onto a small, barren plateau. At its edge was a 40-foot high jagged cliff that led to nothing but the sea. Near the edge a wooden post still stood, marking the spot where Bridget was to be burned at the stake.

Will eyes went round as he recognized the post for what it was and took in its location. "You jumped off that?" He edged his way over to the post and beyond, but refused to get too close to the edge. "That… that’s impossible!" he murmured, shocked. He turned disbelieving eyes on Bridget. "You would have hit the rocks below; the water isn’t deep enough to save you. You should be dead!"

"I should," Bridget agreed. "But Faylinn saved my life. The long ropes for my execution were still tied around my neck when I leapt." She pointed to the wooden post. "The other ends were tied to that." Bridget tried to block out the sound of Faylinn’s screams as she recalled the feeling of weightlessness as she plunged through the air. "I grabbed the ropes with one hand as I fell and with a quick turn looped them around my wrist and forearm." She held up her good arm and imitated the motion.

Will nodded quickly.

"I had only one chance and I knew it. If I failed I would either crash to my death on the rocks below. Or my neck would be snapped like a chicken being readied for Sunday dinner.

Will gulped.

She joined Will near but not too close to the edge. "I pulled the knife Faylinn had pressed into my hands from my cloak, and the very second the ropes were taut I slashed them with all my might, and to my amazement they fell away." Bridget unconsciously cradled her disfigured arm. "My timing was far from perfect and while I managed not get my neck broken, for a split second my arm bore the full burden of my fall." Bridget licked her lips. "It snapped in two places so quickly that I didn’t really know what happened. I thought I’d simply torn it from my body." She walked closer to the ledge and gestured Will over.

His pride was the only thing that kept him from outright refusing.

"My angle of descent changed and I slammed into the side of the cliff. I continued to fall until, tearing through those branches," she pointed, "and those rocks," her finger shifted, "I came to rest in a crevice near the bottom."

"By God, you fell almost the entire way?"

Bridget nodded and moved away from the edge. It was making her sick to her stomach.

Will gratefully followed her.

"I woke up the next day, cut, bloodied, broken, the knife still gripped in my useless hand, and freezing, but quite alive."

"Bridget?"

"Yes?"

"Don’t tell anyone else that story."

Bridget’s forehead creased. "We’ll, considering my current circumstances I hadn’t planned on it. But for curiosity’s sake, why not?"

Will looked at her frankly. "Because they won’t believe a blessed word."

They smiled at each other until it became awkward and Will looked away. "I appreciate seeing the spot you spoke about, but did you drag me all the way across the island to show me the cliffs?"

"Hardly. We came because–" Bridget’s ears perked up and she grinned wildly, looking at something over Will’s shoulder. "We came because of him."

Then Will heard the furious pounding of hooves. He turned around and a great white beast bolted passed him, stopping just in time to keep from running into Bridget and sending her over the cliff again.

The stallion thrust his hooves out in front of him as he came to a stop directly in front of his mistress, spraying her legs with snow and dirt. She let out a happy laugh and the animal nuzzled her chest, whinnying loudly as she hugged him tightly.

"Apollo?"

"The one and only."

"Hello, boy. I’ve missed you!" she cooed, forgetting to be self-conscious about the lavish attention she was paying the animal.

Will admired him openly. "He’s a fine piece of horseflesh, Bridget." Hoping not to get kicked in the head, he approached them both cautiously, stopping to give the steed’s strong neck a pat only when Bridget nodded her consent. "I can see now why you’d hate to give him up. I thought that only dogs stayed in the last place they’d seen their owners, waiting for their return?"

Bridget lovingly stroked the soft wet skin of Apollo’s head. "You don’t know my horse." She tangled her good hand in her horse’s thick mane and threw her leg over his back, groaning slightly as she hauled her body on top.

Will scrambled back a step when the large stallion reared.

Bridget only laughed and held on tightly with one hand. "Apollo!" But her voice was more delighted than scolding. "I think he’d like to burn off some energy. I… well…."

"Go on, Bridget. I’ll be here when you get back."

Bridget’s eyes showed her gratitude. "Thank you, my friend. I’ll be back in a few moments and give you a ride back to the house." She smacked Apollo’s rump lightly with a gloved hand. "He’s a big boy and won’t mind riding double." And with a happy yell, Bridget lifted her thighs slightly and tightened their grip on his muscled body. Then she kicked her steed into motion and with a spray of snow and dirt they were off.

Will sighed longingly and tucked his hands under his armpits, unable to keep the smile off his face as Bridget flew across the snowy plateau, dark hair and cloak billowing wildly as rode.

***

Bridget straightened and let out a tired breath, stretching her sore back. Then she bent again and shifted the wooden crate a little closer to the boat’s side, trying to balance it against the other items she’d stowed in the rowboat’s bottom. The weather hadn’t worsened as Will had feared and they’d rowed the boat from their original landing spot to the small dock directly in front of the house. The light snow had stopped falling and the sun was trying to peek out from behind the late afternoon clouds.

"Are you sure this is all right?" Will asked as he pulled a tarp over two crates in the back of the boat. "I know these things were left behind, but it still feels like stealing."

A slender brow arched. "You were ready to burn the place down with me a few hours ago."

"That’s different," Will answered moodily.

"How so?"

Will rubbed a callused palm on the back of his neck as he thought. "Because burning the place down would have felt like a blow against your slave-trading brother."

"God rest his black, putrid soul."

"But this makes us plain old thieves, doesn’t it?" he finished, balancing carefully as he made his way out of the boat and climbed onto the dock where Bridget was now standing.

"Don’t worry so much, Will." She laid her hand on his forearm and squeezed gently. "These belong to the Redding family. Of which, I am still member. Albeit a dead one."

"That’s not funny."

"That depends entirely on your point of view," she replied drolly. "Besides, some of these items are Faylinn’s. Surely you wouldn’t begrudge her the comfort of her own possessions?"

Will blinked indignantly. "Of course not!"

"Then it’s settled."

"It was settled before I busted my arse towing these crates to the boat, I’ll have ya know."

"Oh." Bridget smiled. "Well, it might make you feel a little better to know that I believe Judith intentionally left behind a few items of value for me… just in case."

"Like Apollo?" Will’s gaze drifted out to the salty sea. His throat was as dry as the desert and he wished he’d thought to bring a canteen of drinking water.

Bridget’s lips shaped into a fond smile just thinking of the horse she’d had to say goodbye to again already. "Just like Apollo." She shot Will a determined look. "But I have a plan in that regard too. We can sell the items in the boat and buy or rent a raft. In the springtime we shall come back for Apollo and ferry him to the mainland. He should have plenty of grass and hay in the stable until then and the island has several natural springs that never freeze over."

Will nodded approvingly. It was an outright sin to waste such exquisite horseflesh.

Bridget’s eyes suddenly took on a sparkle that made Will nervous. "I was also thinking," she began casually, "that we could take the rest of the money and purchase a brood mare or two."

The man’s ears perked up. "A mare, you say?"

"I seriously doubt that Apollo would mind the company, and a fine colt is the least I can offer you in payment for your kindness to Faylinn and me."

Will blushed a bright scarlet. "I cannot accept that," he mumbled half-heartedly.

"Don’t be ridiculous," Bridget scoffed, touched by her friend’s humility. "You deserve far more. You saved both our lives, Will." Her gaze softened. "That is a debt I can never repay."

"As I told Faylinn that very first night, I’ll not be taking a red cent of slaver money. "However," his smile removed most of the word’s sting, "something to drink would go a long way. Where’s your well?"

"I’ve got a better idea. Cyril had a stash of brandy hidden in a wall panel. There is no way the girls would have known to empty it." She extended her arm towards the house.

"Mmm." Will licked his lips. "I haven’t had brandy in years. And then only a sip or two. I wonder if it tastes as good as I remember?"

"May it match your memory then. " The pair made their way up the steep stairs that led to the front door. Bridget gathered her courage and commented, "That reminds me, Will. I have a small favor I’d like to ask you."

***

"You want me to what!" Will glared at Bridget as though she’d grown a third eye.

"Calm down, Will."

"I will not." He threw his hands in the air. "You’re mad."

Bridget’s expression darkened. "I’ve seen madness; I’m not. Here." Bridget took a swig directly out of the bottle and passed it to him. "Have another drink. Mmm… burns." She hissed as her throat tingled from the strength of the liquor. They were sitting on the dock in front of the house, cloaks wrapped tightly around their shoulders, their legs dangling off the dock’s end.

"If you’re not insane then you’re drunk," he accused, but he took the bottle and downed a healthy gulp himself.

A lock of dark hair blew across Bridget’s face. Exasperated, she pushed it back. "Not quite yet. But I am trying."

Will narrowed his eyes and let out a grumpy breath. "I knew there was a reason you didn’t pitch a hellcat’s fit when Faylinn begged me to come along."

Bridget grinned knowingly. "Well, then you’re a wise man, just as I’ve always suspected." She took back the bottle, and brought it to her lips. The fumes tickled her nose and she closed her eyes this time as she tilted it back for long, deep drink. "Ahh…" She wiped an errant drop of liquor off her chin with the back of her hand. "Smooth." Unseeing eyes shifted out to the churning waves. "It has to be done, Will. Please."

Will sighed. "Katie and I set your arm the first time, Bridget. What makes you think if we break it again and reset it that you’ll be any better off?"

Bridget was silent for a long time. Finally, she took two large gulps of brandy in rapid succession and passed the bottle back to Will. "Because it can’t be any worse." Weakly she held out her damaged, twisted arm, grimacing at the pain the action still caused. "It’s all but useless. I can never give Faylinn a life of propriety or even of comfort. But I can give her the best of myself. I won’t lose my arm forever without a fight." Will remained unmoved and Bridget felt herself growing angry. This is not your choice, Will Beynon! "Either you help me do it right, or by God I’ll just do it myself!" She moved to stand but Will stopped her with a firm hand on her shoulder.

"Bridget." His voice was low and controlled.

She turned flashing, slightly bleary eyes on him. "Make your choice, Will. If you haven’t the stomach for it you only need say the word." She snorted derisively. "Next time I’ll bring Katie along with me." Damn. Bridget regretted the harsh words the second they escaped her lips.

Will stiffened and his grip on her shoulder tightened convulsively.

"I’m sorry," she muttered quickly, looking away. "That was quite uncalled for." She peeled his hand off her shoulder and pushed to her feet. Reaching down, she quickly snatched the bottle from his hands and downed half of it in one endless chug.

Will’s eyes widened and he began to sputter as he also stood. "Je-Je-Jesus Almighty!"

Bridget grinned rakishly. "No, the name’s Bridget Redding," she slurred. "But there’ve been women in my past who’ve made that same mistake. Why, one time–"

Will clamped his hand over her mouth. He pushed his hat farther back on his head with one finger and lifted a bushy eyebrow. "I won’t have you sending me straight to Hell with your sinful confessions, Bridget."

Bridget blinked slowly. "Huh?" Hell could kiss her arse!

Will threw back with a roguish expression of his own. "Because then I’d feel compelled to tell you how Katie screams her fool head off when I–"

"Ewwww!" she interrupted, her face twisting into an expression of pure disgust. "Ewww. Ewww. Ewww. I don’t want to hear that!"

"It’s not that bad," he complained with mock indignation.

"Say you." Then, abruptly, she held her injured arm straight out, this time not flinching a bit. With her fist she gave it a jab or two. "See?"

Will blinked in amazement. "It doesn’t hurt anymore?" This is some liquor!

"No. It still hurts like the Devil." She burst out laughing. "I’m just too drunk to care."

Will joined her in a hearty chuckle, feeling the alcohol seep into his bloodstream and envelop him in comforting, buzzing warmth. Any hint of stress between them bled away and they continued to pass the bottle, with Bridget doing most of the drinking.

"Are you going to help me?" she asked him after a few moments, needing to steady herself with a hand on his arm.

Will looked her dead in the eye. He didn’t want to. But…. "I am."

She went a little pale at his words but still felt relieved. "Let’s do it then. It won’t fix itself."

Will let out a shuddering breath, unhooked the clasp at his neck and slipped his cloak from his shoulders. He rolled it until it was long and cylindrical in shape and then handed it to Bridget. "Think happy thoughts. I’ll be right back."

"Happy thoughts." She nodded a little. "Right." Bridget steeled her nerves, which threatened to make her teeth chatter. This is my only chance and I’m going to take it no matter how bloody much it hurts! Then, as though unconsciously following Will’s directive, her mind drifted to her favorite subject and she smiled. She thought about Faylinn’s gentle kisses every morning as she awoke and the sweet, lingering scent of the soap that clung to her skin. It never smelled quite the same on her or Will or especially Katie. Thank goodness my Faylinn is not here to witness this now. I’ll have Hell to pay as it is. Oh, wait. Hell is busy kissing my arse. She dissolved into laughter again.

Bridget took another drink, noting absently that the liquid didn’t burn on the way down anymore. Instead, it seemed to pool in her guts and send a tingling warmth out to her extremities. Warm. That’s how she felt for the first time all day.

"Are you all right?"

Bridget’s head snapped up and she realized she’d almost fallen asleep. Disobediently, her gaze drifted from Will’s face to the stick in his hand. It was at least two feet long and as thick as her forearm. She looked back up, feeling a little dizzy. "I have not passed out from fear or drink so I would say am I quite fine, though highly unlucky."

Will could only nod.

Bridget pushed her sleeve up to her shoulder, exposing the crooked lay of her arm. "Here and here, I think." She pointed to the two places her bone had been broken before. One was only a few inches from her wrist, the other directly above her elbow.

Will’s belly clenched. He hadn’t really thought about having to break it twice. He ran his fingers lightly over the two spots. He didn’t have to memorize their exact locations. The skin around the bone was still a light shade of purple and it was obviously swollen. He settled his cloak over the higher spot first so that the wood wouldn’t damage the skin any more than necessary. Then he held onto her left hand so that her arm was outstretched. "Ready then?" The man searched Bridget’s eyes for any chance she’d spare herself this. He saw only grim determination.

"Ready." She hiccuped then her brow furrowed. "Wait." She took one last drink and set the bottle back on the dock as she padded unsteadily over to one of the wooden support posts. The post was about shoulder high and she stretched her bad arm out as best she could and place her hand, palm down, on the post. When he joined her, she grabbed his shirt with her other hand and focused her eyes on his. "One strike each time, Will. Hard and fast. Make them count."

"I will, Bridget." It was a promise.

"Will?"

A little of Bridget’s fear showed through in her expression and Will felt a heavy sensation creep into his chest. "Yes?"

"I don’t know if I’ll be able to stand for the second blow."

Will set his jaw. "It will be done. Never fear." His fist tightened around the rough length of maple in his hand until his knuckles shone white.

"Thank you," Bridget whispered and allowed her eyes to flutter closed. Her heart began to pound. I can do this. I must.

For a moment Will stood looking at this woman in utter amazement. She wasn’t shaking or crying, instead, she was standing perfectly calm with her arm outstretched, ready for him to shatter it to pieces. The only visible sign of strain was a fine sheen of sweat that glistened on her face and the working of her neck muscles as she occasionally swallowed hard. Then he reminded himself that Bridget had endured the tortures of being an accused witch and still not buckled. She was no stranger to pain. He wondered if he would be so brave.

Setting his feet shoulder-width apart, he bent his knees a little and raised the piece of wood high overhead. God, help me to help her. Putting all of his considerable muscle into the motion, he began the swing.

Bridget heard a soft grunt and the whooshing sound of the club as it approached her arm with startling speed. Time seem to slow just before she felt the impact. She felt the air shift around her elbow and goosebumps break out across the exposed skin, making tiny hairs stand on end. Then the piece of wood exploded against her body with a pain so great it was more than she could truly comprehend all at once. The stunning blow snapped the bone cleanly in half, sending it tearing through muscle and sinew until it ripped through the skin at her elbow in a jagged mess of blood and flesh.

In less than a heartbeat, her knees violently hit the dock and she tasted the metallic tang of blood where she’d bitten the edge of her tongue clean through. Her eyes bulged and she gasped as the agony that had failed to fully register a second before came roaring to the forefront of her consciousness with savage intensity. Arghh!! Saliva mixed with blood dribbled from the corners of her mouth as she panted harshly. She instinctively gripped her dangling arm closer to her body as she began to shake. Her eyes were screwed tightly shut and hot, salty blood dripped from her elbow to her hand, trickling from her fingertips in a steady stream onto the sun-bleached dock. A light fog lifted from the crimson liquid as it pooled on the ground.

***

"Do you think they’ll make it back before dark?" Katie asked, holding her mending up to the light coming in the window so she could examine her handiwork.

Faylinn sat in front of the fireplace and next to Katie so she could learn the new stitch the husky woman was trying to teach her. She brought a cup of tea to her lips and took a sip, enjoying its warm, sweet flavor on this cold winter’s day. "Bridget assured me they would. She–" The blonde woman stopped abruptly as every ounce of air was crushed from her chest in a violent spasm. In a panic, she tried to stand but before she could find her feet her legs buckled and she dropped to the floor with a solid thud. Her hands flew to her ears as a mind-numbing scream ripped through her consciousness and sent her heart into her throat.

"Faylinn?" Petrified, Katie jumped up, knocking over her sewing in the process. "Are you–?" Her eyes automatically shifted to Faylinn’s belly. "The baby?"

Faylinn shook her head vigorously, still trying to process what had just happened. She was trembling and felt as though she was going into shock. That scream could have only come from one source. "It’–" She paused as Katie helped her back to her seat and pushed the cup of tea back into her hands, placing her own hands around Faylinn’s shaking ones. "It’s Bridget." Terrified green eyes met Katie’s. "Something’s happened."

Katie’s face showed her confusion. "Something? Bridget’s not here, girl." Her eyes darted back and forth nervously as she responded to the horror in Faylinn’s eyes. "What are you talking about!"

Haphazardly, Faylinn set down her cup and stumbled to the door. She grabbed her cloak from a peg on the wall as she went. "Something bad," she said tightly as she disappeared into the cold.

***

Will’s eyes were so round it would have been comical had Bridget not been writhing around on the dock in pure agony. "Oh, God. I think I hit you too hard." The stick fell from his limp hand and he sank to his knees alongside Bridget, afraid to even touch her. "I-I-I…"

"S’fine," Bridget hissed from between clenched teeth as she rocked back and forth, one arm wrapped around herself in mute, pitiful comfort.

"Sweet Mother Mary, I can’t believe you’re still conscious!" he screeched. "What in the hell is wrong with you?"

Bridget sneered at him though she herself had wondered the same thing.

Will had thought for certain the shock of the strike in combination with the amount of alcohol she’d consumed would have knocked her out instantly.

For a moment, Bridget thought the normally stolid man might actually burst into tears. "T-time for hit number two, eh?" she joked faintly. She wasn’t sure at all if she’d live through another strike, but it was too late to turn back now. She tried to smile to remove the stricken look from Will’s face but her mouth refused to cooperate. Instead, it shaped an ‘O’ as her stomach lurched and she began to retch painfully. Her breakfast made an unwelcome reappearance.

When she was finished, Will took one look into vivid, bloodshot eyes and knew what he had to do. "Let me help you, Bridget." It wasn’t a question it was a command.

"What?" She coughed weakly at the acrid taste in her mouth and tried to focus her fuzzy mind on anything besides the millions of knives that were stabbing her arm.

"Sit up a little." He guided her with gentle hands. "There."

"Wh–?" The last thing Bridget remembered was the sight of a meaty fist hurling directly towards her jaw.

***

"Jesus protect and keep me," Will said to himself as two figures appeared on shore like apparitions emerging from the evening fog.

It was Faylinn and Katie, hands on hips, feet tapping impatiently.

His rowing suddenly slowed and he turned to a very drunk Bridget, who had regained consciousness on the open sea, halfway to shore. "I’m about to be the victim of a bloody murder. I just thought you’d like the opportunity to thank me for torturing you today before I die."

Bridget sniggered. Her lower lip was twice its normal size and a lurid purple bruise covered most of her jaw. Her left arm, now broken in two places, was splinted and tied to her body so tightly she couldn’t move it even an inch. "Feckless coward!" she snorted, pointing at her friend and laughing some more.

"I only thank God that I didn’t knock out any teeth."

Bridget reached up and stuck her fingers in Will’s mouth. She felt around curiously. "Why would you knock out your own teeth?"

"Phft. Blah." Will glared, then slapped her hand away, snapping a long string of spit that ran from his lips to her fingers in the process. "Ewwww. Keep your filthy hands to yourself, Bridget. I already feel sick to my stomach as it is. You’ve no need to gag me too."

"I do beg your pardon," she giggled unrepentantly.

As they approached the shore, her laughter, however, died down. She took another drink of brandy then tossed the empty bottle into the floor of the boat. "Dammit!" Tears welled up in her eyes. "Why didn’t I take two bottles?"

The boat creaked loudly as Will put his back into the last several strokes and they caught a small wave, gliding them safely onto the sandy beach. Now Bridget got a good look at the worried, furious gleam in Faylinn’s eyes. "Goodbye, Will," she said.

Will couldn’t speak. He could only close his eyes and whimper. Katie had a rolling pin in her hands.

***

"Well, it’s truly been a pleasure." Badger stood up and smiled at Kayla and Liv. "Will you ladies be stopping by another day?"

"Wh-wh–?" Liv and Kayla exchanged startled glances.

"You can’t just leave us here in the story," Kayla complained, yanking the blanket off her legs as she stood up.

"Leave you where, lass?" Badger’s eyes opened a touch wider and he regarded her with his normal mixture of mirth and curiosity. "You don’t really think that that slip of a girl, Faylinn, killed Will Beynon, do you?"

Kayla scowled. Now that she thought of it, it did seem pretty ridiculous. "No." She shoved her hands into the pockets of her well-worn Levis. "I mean, well, how do I know? But, I guess not."

"Good."

Green eyes twinkled as Badger offered Liv a hand up. "Thank you, Badger."

He bowed gallantly at the waist just as Brody had done earlier in the week causing Kayla to roll her eyes dramatically. Being with Liv was like walking around with a life-sized sample of catnip.

Liv folded up the blanket Kayla had tossed aside and set it down on the cushion. When she was finished, she dusted off her hands, wondering what she’d do if someone hurt Kayla like that. Even if her lover had stupidly been the one to ask for it. "So how many teeth did Will lose, Badger?"

Badger chuckled and winked at Liv. "Only one. But it was Katie and her rolling pin that were responsible for the concussion."

***

ay yes

aye always

auld old

bairn child

bonnie, bonny beautiful

brae hill

close courtyard; entry or alley

faither father

fash yersel to worry yourself

gab talk

lad, laddie boy

lass, lassie girl

mither mother

nicht night

och! an all-purpose exclamation

sassenach English person; foreigner

sporran leather pouch

suin soon

wee little, small

weel well

wi’ with

yersels yourself

I love you. Tha gaol agam ort.

Shut your mouth. Haud yer wheesht.

Continued

Return to The Bard's Corner