Written in 58 minutes. Spell checked, but not reread for typos. And hey, I almost know what I’m doing with this story now. If I only I knew who the villain was! Alas, maybe next time I’ll figure it out, LOL.

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It had stunned Elizabeth how easily Jason had accepted her secret and focused on what he considered to be the more important question — how did this secret explain the attack all those weeks ago?

Maybe he didn’t really understand what she told him, or considered it unimportant since she hadn’t had any flashes or visions since coming to Braegarie. She’d been relieved by that fact, of course, but it went without saying that she also worried about who had been behind the attack. Especially since she’d realized that the Duke of Albany must have known about her abilities when he’d sent for her.

Why send all the way to Annan in Dumfries for her only to send her to the Highlands? What had been the point? And Jason had been right — how could Albany have known she’d see the right poison?

There were too many questions with too few answers, and still her worry over Jason and her secret continued. He knew it now—but did he really understand?

“You have that look again,” Tracy snapped as she snapped her fingers in front of Elizabeth a few weeks later. “You need to pay attention if you’re going to be able to run this keep during the winter—”

“Aye, Aunt,” Elizabeth said. She cleared her throat. “I beg your pardon. I haven’t been sleeping well.”

“Well,” Tracy sniffed as she gestured at the storage room and the shelf of spices. “What did I just say about spices?”

“That I need to watch Cook very carefully to be sure she isn’t using more than the rationed amount because the spice merchant only comes to Perth in October,” Elizabeth recited dutifully. She clasped her hands behind her back. “And if we run out of salt, we will not be able to store the meat during the worst months.”

Tracy pursed her lips. “Good. Now—”

“I don’t know why you’re spending all this time learning how to run the keep,” Johnny said from his position lounging at a long table in the kitchen, an apple in his hand. “Tracy will outlive us all.”

Tracy turned to glare at the man who now dogged Elizabeth’s every step. The sweet, but gullible Milo who could be convinced to stay in the Great Hall while Elizabeth and Tracy did their daily walk through of the keep had been replaced by the surly Irishman who had only just barely decided Elizabeth was worthy of the laird

He sulked and simmered as he slunk behind them all day, and it was wearing on Elizabeth’s good nature—and Tracy looked as though this was the day she might finally do murder

“John O’Brien,” Tracy declared. “Do you think you’re too grown for me to take a switch to your backside?”

Johnny studied the older woman carefully, and must have decided he’d pushed her too far. “No, I do not. Carry on.”

“We’ll work on the linens next,” Tracy told Elizabeth. “I want you to know how we manage the seamstresses—”

“Thrilling,” Johnny muttered, getting to his feet. Tracy sneered at him, and the two of them bickered as Elizabeth trailed behind them, exhausted beyond the measure.

—

“He’s insufferable,” Elizabeth muttered as she brushed out her hair that evening. She sat on the bed and glared at her husband as he stood by the fire, his arms crossed, with narrowed eyes. “I’m sorry for locking him in the closet, but surely, he doesn’t need to follow Tracy and I everywhere—”

“He does.”

“But—”

“If something happens to you while he’s locked up—” Jason shook his head. “I’ll talk to him about his attitude—”

“If I didn’t put him in that closet,” Elizabeth told him, “then I think your aunt was going to shove him out a window. He doesn’t just complain all day, he—” She pressed her lips together, then sighed. “Never mind.”

“Elizabeth.”

“He mocks our work. Demeans it! He seems to think that it’s easy to run the keep or that—” Elizabeth got to her feet to place her brush back on top of her trunk with a grimace. “It’s just…I’m trying very hard to learn everything Tracy is teaching me, and Johnny makes it harder.”

“I’ll talk to him,” Jason repeated. “But you’ve only been here three months—you don’t need to learn everything right away—” Immediately, he knew he’d said something wrong as his wife gasped, looked horrified.

“Of course I do! What if something happens to Tracy? What if she falls ill? She might,” Elizabeth insisted when Jason looked doubtful. “She told me she’s been after you to get married for years. Do you think she wants to do everything everyday? It’s exhausting. She’s trying to teach me everything so we can split the duties and make both our lives easier. At least while she’s able.”

Well, that made some sense, but he still didn’t like how tired Elizabeth looked or how she seemed to be going from dawn until dusk—Johnny had been complaining to Jason as well—

“Tracy drags the lass into every corner of the keep every morning,” he’d told Jason that evening as Jason had let him out of the linen closet where Elizabeth had locked him up. “She’s up too something—”

“You should be resting more,” Jason told his wife. “Barbara said it was important—”

“I do rest—”

“But—” Jason stopped when she just glared at him. “I just want you to be well,” he said finally, hoping that would make her less irritated with him. He never seemed to say anything right these days— “‘Tis not just your health at stake—”

“And now I’m a terrible mother,” Elizabeth muttered as she stalked over to the bed, and drew back the fur to climb underneath. “Do you think I forgot about the babe? I can hardly keep a morsel of food in my belly—”

“I’m going to stop talking,” Jason decided. He sat down next to her, waiting—hoping—she’d turn back to look at him. She did and sighed.

“I’m sorry. I’ve been very prickly tonight, aren’t I?” Elizabeth said. She sat up. “I know you’re worried about me. About the babe. And whatever is out there that might want to hurt me. I know Johnny will keep me safe. I shouldn’t have locked him in the closet.”

“Knowing Johnny,” Jason said slowly, “he likely deserved it. How did you convince him to go into the closet?”

“Oh. I asked him to get something off the top shelf. It was easy.” She smiled at him and that relieved him. “It was Tracy’s idea.”

“I can imagine.” He paused. “I just want you to be safe.”

“Because of the babe. I’m doing—”

“Not because—well, yes, because we both want the babe to be born healthy,” Jason said, “but Johnny’s with you because I want you to be safe.”

“Oh.” She bit her lip. “Well, I don’t want to have to climb any trees,” she admitted, “so I’ll try harder to get along with him. But he needs to respect the work we do here. It’s not brandishing a club or whatever you take into battle—” she added when he laughed, “but it keeps you fed and cared for.”

“You’re right. I’ll talk to him.” He leaned forward to kiss her gently, putting two fingers under her chin to lift her mouth to meet his. “Are you too…tired?”

“Not at all.” Elizabeth pushed the furs aside and pulled him closer.

It was in the deepest, darkest part of the night when her mind betrayed her. She’d slid abruptly from a lovely, sweet dream where she was sitting by a stream, laughing as Jason and a small boy with blonde hair stood in the stream into a nightmare.

“Look, Mama! Mama! Da’s teachin’ me to swim!”

“Careful!” Elizabeth called back, smiling as Jason wrapped his arms around their son to hold him steady in the water. At barely three, he was eager to do everything his father did—even if he couldn’t quite keep up.

She looked away from the sight down at the basket next to her where her infant son slept peacefully. She ran a finger down his soft cheek, smiling as his mouth curved and he turned his cheek towards her hand.

“Mama! Mama!”

The laughter had turned into a terrified shriek and Elizabeth jerked her head back to the stream—Jason had vanished and her son was screaming for her as the currents swept him away.

“Cameron!” Elizabeth cried, jumping to her feet. “Jason!” She darted towards the stream but her beloved, her precious—they were gone—

She whirled around to snatch up her other son, to take baby Jake to safety so she could get to the keep—

But the basket with her baby was gone. It had vanished.

So had the stream, and the grass beneath her feet. The blue skies and the fluffy clouds had slid into inky darkness, and the ground beneath her was even rocky—

She was running, she was running so fast her lungs were burning and still she knew she couldn’t get away—they were going to find her—they were going to take her—she wasn’t going to be able to get away—they would find her and take her sons—

Her foot caught on a root and she went flying—waves of pain vibrating up her leg as Elizabeth tried to get to her feet, planting the palms of her hands against the ground, trying to raise herself up—

The moment she put weight on her ankle, she cried out—and then hissed, because now they’d find her—now they’d know—now they’d—

“Did you really think you could run—”

Elizabeth rolled over on her back, her eyes wide as she saw the face—heard the voice of the man who who had been pursuing her—who had tried to take everything from her—

“Why?” she choked out. “Why are you doing this?”

The man knelt beside her, took Elizabeth’s chin in his hand, his fingers digging into her skin. “Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.”

He gripped her forearm and dragged her to her feet, thrusting her at one of the other men pursuing her. “Prepare the pyre. She burns at dawn—”

“Elizabeth—wake up!”

Elizabeth’s eyes opened at the sound of Jason’s voice, her chest heaving, her lungs burning—she scrambled away from him—falling over the side of the bed—but still she couldn’t stop—she couldn’t clear mind—get away—get away—they’re going to burn me—

“Elizabeth—no one is going to—”

She was crawling across the floor, the hem of her night dress catching on the corner of the bedpost as she tried to reach the door—get away—have—

Elizabeth threw herself against the door, sobbing—have to get away—find her babies—they stole—

A candle flame lit the room partially, then a second, as Jason hurried to light anything he could find—

Elizabeth blinked at the light, then stared down at her hands, expecting to find them stained with the dirt—she’d tried to grab at the dirt as the man had pulled her up—she’d fought them as they tied her to pyre—

The flames licking at her feet—the heat—

“Oh, God, oh, God—”

Her hands were clean. Not a speck of dirt.

It had been a dream.

“Elizabeth—” Jason took her by the shoulders. “Can you hear me? What happened? What did you see?”

Elizabeth raised her eyes to his, opened her mouth but then shook her head. “I can’t. I can’t. Don’t make me—”

“All right, okay.” Jason led her sit on the edge of the bed while he started a fire in the hearth, lighting the room even more. He’d lit every candle—every torch—it was brighter in their room than it was the day.

When the fire was roaring, he scooped her up in his arms and brought her over to one of the chairs, sitting down, keeping her in his lap. She curled up in his embrace, and closed her eyes, listening to his soothing voice remind her that everything was okay.

She didn’t know how long she sat there, her head against his chest, leaning to the beat of his heart before he spoke again. “Can you talk yet?”

“I—don’t know how much if it is the dream,” she said softly. “Sometimes I just dream and it’s not a vision. We were a family. You were teaching our son to swim, and I was watching. I could—I think it must have been a vision. It felt so real.”

Jason pressed his lips to her forehead. “Our son? Like the other vision?”

“Aye. We’ll have two. Cameron is the eldest, and Jacob. He was an infant. I looked away for a minute, and Cameron screamed for me—when I looked back—” She closed her eyes. “You were both again—I went to the stream—and then Jacob—Jake was—he was gone. You’d all vanished. Then it was night, and I was running, but they caught me.”

“Who caught you?” Jason murmured. “Who was it? Did you see?”

“No. I knew him in the vision, but I’ve never seen his face before. Or heard his voice. And he—” Elizabeth looked at him. “He burned me at the stake. I saw my death, Jason. He’s going to kill me.”

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