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Authors: Kara Griffin
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perfect setting for her
spell. She raised her hands, palms facing upward,
feeling the energy of the spirits and chanted,
“Sleep, sleep, warrior, as docile as a sheep.
When ye awake, you’ll not forsake, but will
remember me.”
Chapter Eight
Kerr Keep
Highlands, Scotland
Candace Kerr walked along the wall
of the keep, searching for the lavender flower she needed to make soap. She
traipsed around most of the morning, her attention focused on finding the buds.
She knelt, retrieving a purple flower, but it held fast to the ground. Yanking
hard, she fell backward and landed on her bottom. Laughing heartily, she
gripped the flower again. Suddenly, she heard a rustle in the brush.
“Pssst.”
“Who’s there? Come out.”
“Candace, ‘tis Russell.”
“Russell?” She became apprehensive,
and thought to yell to the sentry.
“I’ve a message from Lady Isabel.”
“Isabel. Is she well?” She moved
closer to the bush, and recognized the stable lad that had traveled with
Isabel. He had escorted Isabel to the Gordon holding whenever she visited. She
recalled her and Isabel laughing at his horrid poetry.
“Aye, she gave me a message to
deliver. Here, take it.” He shoved the parchment though the leaves of the yew
bush. “I must go, the sentries will see me.”
“Will you not await my reply?”
“There was no request for me to do
so.”
Candace glanced at the scroll then
looked back at the bush, but Russell was gone. She walked through the
portcullis and in through the doors of the keep.
Douglas sat with several men at the
trestle table. Colin MacKinnon, her favorite cousin, attended with several of
his warriors. He called a greeting, and she waved, but kept walking. She ran up
the stairs, taking two at a time until she reached her chamber. Growing worried
with each step, she hurried so she could read Isabel’s news. She removed her
plaid, threw it on a bench, and then sat at her table. Once she untied the
scroll, she flattened it so she could read it. Her eyes began tearing when she
read the lines.
My dearest
friend,
I desperately
need your aid. My father declared that I should submit to Nigel. He believes
I’ve already done so. I haven’t, nor will I. As I write this, I’m confined to
my chamber at my own behest. I know not if Nigel performed the act since he
struck me senseless, and he did reprehensible things. I’m frightened. Send
someone for me as we agreed, but don’t let on about the danger. We’ll continue
with the plan that I’m coming for your wedding. I hope that you are not wed,
and that you are betrothed. It’s my only hope to escape. I know you will save
me.
Isabel.
At the bottom, Isabel wrote:
My father is
sending me to Fairview Asylum. I’m to leave soon, though I’m trying to delay
it. Please make haste.
Candace’s hands shook by the time
she finished the missive. Her brows furrowed at the thought of Isabel’s plight.
She folded the missive and placed it inside a drawer. After she washed her
face, and tried to calm herself, she marched with determination to the great
hall.
Douglas was discussing a riff with
a clan north of their property. Their conference didn’t seem serious, since she
heard them laugh at someone’s jest.
“Nay, Douglas, you should curb the
Ferguson’s will. That man is a pain in the arse,” Colin said fervently, then
laughed.
She saw Douglas fiddling with his
goblet, his eyes looked heavy, as though he were tired. Perhaps she shouldn’t
ask him to retrieve her friend. But she had to; Isabel counted on her and he
was the only person she could ask. She couldn’t trust anyone else to handle the
matter; her friend’s safety was in jeopardy.
“Aye, he is. You have to admit he’s
not as bad as the Barclays. They’ve been seen raiding lately. Many were cast
out recently, and roam the countryside, wreaking havoc on other clans.”
Candace decided to interrupt. “Douglas,
I need to speak to you when you have a
spell. She raised her hands, palms facing upward,
feeling the energy of the spirits and chanted,
“Sleep, sleep, warrior, as docile as a sheep.
When ye awake, you’ll not forsake, but will
remember me.”
Chapter Eight
Kerr Keep
Highlands, Scotland
Candace Kerr walked along the wall
of the keep, searching for the lavender flower she needed to make soap. She
traipsed around most of the morning, her attention focused on finding the buds.
She knelt, retrieving a purple flower, but it held fast to the ground. Yanking
hard, she fell backward and landed on her bottom. Laughing heartily, she
gripped the flower again. Suddenly, she heard a rustle in the brush.
“Pssst.”
“Who’s there? Come out.”
“Candace, ‘tis Russell.”
“Russell?” She became apprehensive,
and thought to yell to the sentry.
“I’ve a message from Lady Isabel.”
“Isabel. Is she well?” She moved
closer to the bush, and recognized the stable lad that had traveled with
Isabel. He had escorted Isabel to the Gordon holding whenever she visited. She
recalled her and Isabel laughing at his horrid poetry.
“Aye, she gave me a message to
deliver. Here, take it.” He shoved the parchment though the leaves of the yew
bush. “I must go, the sentries will see me.”
“Will you not await my reply?”
“There was no request for me to do
so.”
Candace glanced at the scroll then
looked back at the bush, but Russell was gone. She walked through the
portcullis and in through the doors of the keep.
Douglas sat with several men at the
trestle table. Colin MacKinnon, her favorite cousin, attended with several of
his warriors. He called a greeting, and she waved, but kept walking. She ran up
the stairs, taking two at a time until she reached her chamber. Growing worried
with each step, she hurried so she could read Isabel’s news. She removed her
plaid, threw it on a bench, and then sat at her table. Once she untied the
scroll, she flattened it so she could read it. Her eyes began tearing when she
read the lines.
My dearest
friend,
I desperately
need your aid. My father declared that I should submit to Nigel. He believes
I’ve already done so. I haven’t, nor will I. As I write this, I’m confined to
my chamber at my own behest. I know not if Nigel performed the act since he
struck me senseless, and he did reprehensible things. I’m frightened. Send
someone for me as we agreed, but don’t let on about the danger. We’ll continue
with the plan that I’m coming for your wedding. I hope that you are not wed,
and that you are betrothed. It’s my only hope to escape. I know you will save
me.
Isabel.
At the bottom, Isabel wrote:
My father is
sending me to Fairview Asylum. I’m to leave soon, though I’m trying to delay
it. Please make haste.
Candace’s hands shook by the time
she finished the missive. Her brows furrowed at the thought of Isabel’s plight.
She folded the missive and placed it inside a drawer. After she washed her
face, and tried to calm herself, she marched with determination to the great
hall.
Douglas was discussing a riff with
a clan north of their property. Their conference didn’t seem serious, since she
heard them laugh at someone’s jest.
“Nay, Douglas, you should curb the
Ferguson’s will. That man is a pain in the arse,” Colin said fervently, then
laughed.
She saw Douglas fiddling with his
goblet, his eyes looked heavy, as though he were tired. Perhaps she shouldn’t
ask him to retrieve her friend. But she had to; Isabel counted on her and he
was the only person she could ask. She couldn’t trust anyone else to handle the
matter; her friend’s safety was in jeopardy.
“Aye, he is. You have to admit he’s
not as bad as the Barclays. They’ve been seen raiding lately. Many were cast
out recently, and roam the countryside, wreaking havoc on other clans.”
Candace decided to interrupt. “Douglas,
I need to speak to you when you have a
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