Belladonna by Anne Bishop Read Free Book Online Page A

any one person."
    Caitlin hesitated, then bobbed her head once in agreement. "For you, then." She disappeared into the cottage. A few moments later, they all heard the back door slam.
    "We came at a difficult time," Merrill said soothingly, wondering if she and Shaela were going to stand outside for however long it took Caitlin to retrieve the plants, or if Brighid would stand by her own words and remember her manners.
    "Manure has its uses, Merrill, but it never smells sweet," Brighid replied tartly. "Don't spread it here."
    So much for stepping around the point of contention that had bruised their friendship. Not broken it, though. She wouldn't believe it was truly broken. Someday Brighid would be free to come back to the White Isle ... and Lighthaven. "The girl doesn't belong on the White Isle. I stand by the decision I made three years ago. She isn't one of us, Brighid. She never will be."
    Brighid leaned against the door frame. "A young man from the village called last week. Asked Caitlin to go walking in the moonlight — the first who has ever done that since she's considered 'strange.' He made her an offer."
    "Oh." Merrill smiled. A wounded heart and an offer? Yes, that could explain the sharpness of Caitlin's temper. "Well, young women are often afflicted with nerves and quarrel with their lover before the wed —"

    "He made her the kind of offer no woman with pride or heart would accept."
    "Ah." Merrill's face heated with embarrassment, and out of the corner of her eye she saw Shaela turn away, head down, clearly uncomfortable with the turn of the conversation.
    "Your presence here today is salt on a fresh wound," Brighid said, her voice sad and quiet. "You come asking for favors from one you turned away and offer nothing in return."
    "There's nothing I can offer. And you know why we've come."
    "Yes, I know why. As I said when I answered your letter, I, too, heard the voice in a dream. The words are a riddle, and I have found no answer." Brighid hesitated. "But I think the answer is more than an answer for whoever discovers the meaning of the riddle."
    Shaela looked up, alert. "What do you think it is meant to be?"
    "A door."
    Reaching the spot on the hillside that she had decided years ago was the end of the path, despite the path continuing on up and over the hill, Caitlin closed her eyes and sent out that silent call: I'm here.
    When she opened her eyes, the path ended at the walled garden that branded her a sorceress and was her only comfort and friend — the walled garden that didn't exist for anyone except her.
    Slipping through the rusty gate that never closed properly, she hugged the two pots she'd brought with her and slowly examined the beds. She didn't know what belladonna looked like, but she was certain she'd know the feel of it.
    And there it was, tucked in the corner of the garden that never managed to grow anything well. Beside it was a heart's hope plant she knew hadn't been there a few days ago.
    Kneeling in front of the plants, she put the pots aside, then brushed her fingers over the plants' leaves.
    Something here. Something strange.
    Her fingers brushed leaves, but she had the sensation of a warm hand clasping hers. An accepting hand.
    She understands me.
    The thought made no sense. Neither was the certainty that she had almost managed to touch someone who wasn't there.
    She sat back on her heels and studied the plants. Aunt Brighid had been acting odd, uneasy. As if she'd had a premonition of bad news and was expecting it to be confirmed every time someone came to the door.
    Well, bad news did come knocking, didn't it?
    "Prayer circle," Caitlin muttered as she pulled a trowel out of her skirt pocket and carefully dug up the heart's hope. "I'll bet it's going to be an interesting prayer circle."
    An important one, anyway, she thought as she settled the heart's hope into one of the pots. Merrill wouldn't have come to Raven's Hill unless it was important. She didn't think Aunt Brighid had