Shoulder the Skye (Skye Druids #2)(60)
Author: Donna Grant

 

He drew in a deep breath that expanded his shoulders. Then he released it slowly. “I had to protect my sisters.”

 

“But you returned.”

 

“Because Elodie did,” he explained as he leaned back, but he didn’t release her. He gently caressed his fingers down the side of her face. “She moved into our parents’ cottage and, eventually, went into their bedroom. The very thing I stayed away to prevent happened. All her memories returned, and with them, her magic.”

 

“Bloody hell.” Bronwyn couldn’t imagine how it felt not to have magic but then to regain such memories on top of that? “How is she doing now?”

 

Elias shrugged half-heartedly. “Remarkably well, thankfully. She was able to face things. I think, in part, because she has someone with her. Scott is a good man, even if George sent him to the isle.”

 

Bronwyn blew out a breath, her frustration clear. “Seems like George has her fingers in a lot of pies. What did she want with Elodie?”

 

“She wanted her to join the Druid Others.”

 

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Bronwyn said, utterly floored by the statement.

 

Elias shook his head. “Elodie refused, and to make things worse, Scott and Filip Gordon decided to remain on Skye.”

 

“I had heard that Filip was back. George can’t be happy about any of that. Do you think that’s why she’s targeting you?”

 

“I doona know, but I aim to find out.”

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER THIRTY

 

 

 

 

 

If there was ever a time of true gratification, of absolute contentment, it had finally come to Kerry. And it was all because of the Ancients. It was difficult to keep the knowledge inside her as she sat in the pub, her gaze moving from tourists to the locals she had once called friends—friends who hadn’t hesitated to seek her guidance.

 

Even with the power she now wielded, she couldn’t release the grudge against Rhona and every Druid in her zone. They looked down on her now as if she were less than.

 

As if she were lacking.

 

They were the deficient ones, and she would soon pass judgment on each and every one of them. The Ancients had spent an eternity watching the Druids muck things up, time and again. The reckoning was nearly upon them. And it would begin on Skye.

 

Kerry thought it fitting since the seat of the Druids had begun here. It’d commenced on the isle eons ago, and it would begin here once more, washing away the old and purging the ground of everything stale and archaic.

 

A whisper behind Kerry caught her attention. Her ears pricked at the mention of Bronwyn Stewart. There were few Druids on Skye who didn’t gossip about the young drough. They knew nothing about her. Not even why she had chosen to become drough. To them, she had written herself off. She, like Kerry, had been left wanting. Found lacking.

 

Perhaps that was how Kerry’s interest in her had begun. It didn’t take much digging to discover that Bronwyn had lived a very short brutal life by losing both her parents. But there was more to the story if Bronwyn had sought out the additional power that came with being a drough.

 

The Druids had failed Bronwyn—specifically Rhona.

 

Kerry was mildly surprised that Bronwyn wasn’t on the Ancients’ list to be removed. Obviously, they knew something about the young Druid that could benefit the new regime. And if the Ancients approved of her, then Kerry was delighted to welcome Bronwyn.

 

Kerry focused on the conversation behind her. She didn’t need to turn around to recognize the voices of Florence and Martha, both middle-aged busybodies who spent more time gossiping than anything else.

 

“I heard DI Frasier went to Carwood to search the manor for Elias MacLean,” Martha said.

 

Florence sighed longingly. “Theo is one handsome man. If I were younger…” she said wistfully.

 

“Enough, Florence. Stop mooning over someone you can’t have. You’re not young, and he wouldn’t give you the time of day,” Martha snapped.

 

Florence huffed. Her voice was stiff when she said, “There’s been talk about Elias at Carwood for a couple of days now.”

 

“Well, if he was there, Frasier would’ve brought him in.”

 

“Martha, please,” Florence said drolly. “You’re forgetting that Bronwyn is drough.”

 

It was Martha’s turn to huff. “I’m not a nitwit. Everyone knows she’s drough, but that doesn’t necessarily mean she does evil things.”

 

“Of course, it does. That’s why droughs are considered evil.” The snort that followed was filled with disdain.

 

“I saw Bronwyn a week before last. She didn’t look like she’d done evil.”

 

“What’s evil look like, Martha?” Florence retorted. “I’d like to know.”

 

There was silence. Kerry grinned because she knew they looked her way. She turned in her chair to face them and smiled. The two blanched and hurriedly looked away. Unable to help herself, Kerry rose, her knees creaking from age and extra weight, and walked the short distance to their table.

 

“Hello, ladies,” she said. Florence wouldn’t meet her gaze, but Martha did. Kerry sank onto one of the empty chairs. “I couldn’t help but overhear your…we’ll call it a conversation. As a matter of fact, the entire pub heard it.”

 

As if to see if she were right, the two women looked around. Florence’s cheeks bloomed bright with color while Martha suddenly found her empty teacup interesting.

 

“You two seem awfully interested in Elias and Bronwyn,” Kerry continued.

 

Martha quickly said, “Elias is the killer.”

 

“Is he?” Kerry asked. “Who told you that?”

 

Martha jerked her gaze to Florence. Kerry turned her attention on the woman.

 

Florence shot a dark look toward Martha before clearing her throat. “The woman from Edinburgh is staying at my B&B. I…hear things.”

 

“You mean you eavesdrop,” Kerry stated.

 

“N-no, not at all.”

 

Kerry cut her hand through the air. “I don’t care about that. This woman? Who is she?”

 

“Georgina Miller, but she goes by George. She’s here to make sure Elias is arrested for the murders committed in Edinburgh.”