quick. That hairy red giant is waiting.”
Bess unclasped her gray woolen wrap, handing it to her mistress and donning Fiona’s green one. “And what will you tell the Frasers when you arrive on their doorstep, weary and ragged, and a Campbell bride, to boot? They’ll not take you in if it means facing Cedric’s wrath.”
“Aye, they will. The Frasers hate the Campbells as much as we do. They’ll give me aid, if only to rob Cedric of something he wants. Now stop rattling on and listen to me. You must convince them you wanted no part of this and that I forced you to comply.”
Bess scowled. “That’s the truth of it, close enough! But I’ll convince them and do my part. Your mother would want me to protect you.”
Fiona hugged her, fast and hard. “You have protected me, Bess. Always. I owe you my life.”
“Have you any idea which direction to go?” the maid asked.
“Aye, I heard the men talking. We’re just south of Tain. Balintore is but a few hours’ walk southeast of here. With a good foot under me, I should reach Fraser’s keep by midmorning, no worse for wear. Now, off with you to the tent. And stand up straight, or we’re done for.”
The women embraced again. “Godspeed to you, miss.” Bess’s voice rasped with emotion.
“May God watch over you, Bess. You’ve been a good and faithful servant. I could not have asked for better.”
Fiona looked to the starry sky to get her bearings, and with a final kiss to her maid’s cheek, she stepped toward escape.
CHAPTER 8
M YLES HEARD T AVISH speak to Fiona outside the tent and tried to rouse himself, but days of travel and the burden of getting acquainted with his new wife had taken a heavy toll. When moments later she returned, he fell back into blissful slumber knowing his men were on watch, his wife was back in the tent, though needlessly wrapped in her green cloak, and all was right with the world. When the birds called their morning salutations, there she nestled at the very edge of the bed, her hood tucked firmly over her head.
With bleary eyes, Myles slid over and nudged aside the green woolen fabric, lightly kissing Fiona’s temple. A trickle of alarm crept through his sleep-drugged limbs. Her skin felt peculiar, rough and loose, and the fragrance of vanilla and nutmeg he’d come to associate with his wife was replaced by something sour, a repellent combination of lye and old age. Like Pandora opening her box, Myles slowly pulled aside the cloak and let loose a bellow fierce as Lucifer’s fury. He jumped from the pallet, pushing the woman away as he leapt. The form unfurled on the ground, bones creaking.
“What sorcery is this?” he snarled. “I lie down with a goddess and wake up to an old hag?”
Bess quaked where she landed, eyes watery and fearful.
Outside, the men stirred fast to action by their master’s shout, ready to defend their lords. In seconds, his father and Tavish burst into the tent.
Bess struggled to sit up, but Myles reached over and grabbed her bony shoulder.
“Where is my wife?”
Bess blinked, saying nothing.
Cedric stepped to the tent flap and murmured to a man-at-arms, who nodded and quickly moved away.
Myles jostled the old woman, setting her teeth to rattle. “Answer me, you conniving witch.”
Tavish stepped closer, regret thickening his voice. “They must have switched places.”
Myles cast a scathing glance at his uncle. “’Tis obvious, Tavish! But where is Fiona now?”
“Gone,” answered Bess.
Anger and dread mingled as one inside Myles’s chest. “Gone where?”
The man-at-arms returned. “She’s not on the maid’s pallet, my lords. Shall I have the men search the area?”
Cedric nodded and took a step toward Bess, towering over her, hands fisted on his hips. “Where is she, woman?”
Her lips clamped, and Myles poked her with his foot. “You think she’s unsafe with the likes of us? How will she fare in the forest with the wild creatures and the wicked terrain? Or the
Bess unclasped her gray woolen wrap, handing it to her mistress and donning Fiona’s green one. “And what will you tell the Frasers when you arrive on their doorstep, weary and ragged, and a Campbell bride, to boot? They’ll not take you in if it means facing Cedric’s wrath.”
“Aye, they will. The Frasers hate the Campbells as much as we do. They’ll give me aid, if only to rob Cedric of something he wants. Now stop rattling on and listen to me. You must convince them you wanted no part of this and that I forced you to comply.”
Bess scowled. “That’s the truth of it, close enough! But I’ll convince them and do my part. Your mother would want me to protect you.”
Fiona hugged her, fast and hard. “You have protected me, Bess. Always. I owe you my life.”
“Have you any idea which direction to go?” the maid asked.
“Aye, I heard the men talking. We’re just south of Tain. Balintore is but a few hours’ walk southeast of here. With a good foot under me, I should reach Fraser’s keep by midmorning, no worse for wear. Now, off with you to the tent. And stand up straight, or we’re done for.”
The women embraced again. “Godspeed to you, miss.” Bess’s voice rasped with emotion.
“May God watch over you, Bess. You’ve been a good and faithful servant. I could not have asked for better.”
Fiona looked to the starry sky to get her bearings, and with a final kiss to her maid’s cheek, she stepped toward escape.
CHAPTER 8
M YLES HEARD T AVISH speak to Fiona outside the tent and tried to rouse himself, but days of travel and the burden of getting acquainted with his new wife had taken a heavy toll. When moments later she returned, he fell back into blissful slumber knowing his men were on watch, his wife was back in the tent, though needlessly wrapped in her green cloak, and all was right with the world. When the birds called their morning salutations, there she nestled at the very edge of the bed, her hood tucked firmly over her head.
With bleary eyes, Myles slid over and nudged aside the green woolen fabric, lightly kissing Fiona’s temple. A trickle of alarm crept through his sleep-drugged limbs. Her skin felt peculiar, rough and loose, and the fragrance of vanilla and nutmeg he’d come to associate with his wife was replaced by something sour, a repellent combination of lye and old age. Like Pandora opening her box, Myles slowly pulled aside the cloak and let loose a bellow fierce as Lucifer’s fury. He jumped from the pallet, pushing the woman away as he leapt. The form unfurled on the ground, bones creaking.
“What sorcery is this?” he snarled. “I lie down with a goddess and wake up to an old hag?”
Bess quaked where she landed, eyes watery and fearful.
Outside, the men stirred fast to action by their master’s shout, ready to defend their lords. In seconds, his father and Tavish burst into the tent.
Bess struggled to sit up, but Myles reached over and grabbed her bony shoulder.
“Where is my wife?”
Bess blinked, saying nothing.
Cedric stepped to the tent flap and murmured to a man-at-arms, who nodded and quickly moved away.
Myles jostled the old woman, setting her teeth to rattle. “Answer me, you conniving witch.”
Tavish stepped closer, regret thickening his voice. “They must have switched places.”
Myles cast a scathing glance at his uncle. “’Tis obvious, Tavish! But where is Fiona now?”
“Gone,” answered Bess.
Anger and dread mingled as one inside Myles’s chest. “Gone where?”
The man-at-arms returned. “She’s not on the maid’s pallet, my lords. Shall I have the men search the area?”
Cedric nodded and took a step toward Bess, towering over her, hands fisted on his hips. “Where is she, woman?”
Her lips clamped, and Myles poked her with his foot. “You think she’s unsafe with the likes of us? How will she fare in the forest with the wild creatures and the wicked terrain? Or the
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