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Most mornings, soldiers crossed the loch in two or three boats to tend the horses in the stable and to ride out on patrols to look for rebels—including her brother Simon and their kinsmen. Only Eva and Alpin knew where the MacArthur rebels hid in the hills above the loch, and both of them had been sworn to secrecy.
Hearing the splash of oars, she soon saw the boat glide through the fog. Alpin stilled the craft on the beach so that Eva could climb inside, and then he rowed back toward the island.
"Today," Alpin murmured, "we will work on high strokes. Stay down until we reach the far side of the island so that you will not be seen." Complying, she drew her plaid over her dark, braided hair. For the swording lessons, she usually wore an old belted plaid and shirt borrowed from Mairi's storage chest; she enjoyed the freedom, comfort, and disguise offered by the male garments.
Rounding the island, Alpin drew the boat into a cove fringed by alder and pine trees. Eva leaped out while Alpin secured the rope, and both walked into the cover of the trees. When he handed her a wooden practice sword, taking one into his own hands, she adopted a ready stance and waited for the first strike. She countered it with confidence, earning his murmured praise.
Their practice was demanding as usual, leaving her breathing hard and wiping her misted brow. Soon the sun crested the hills and began to burn off the fog, and she knew the soldiers would venture out of the castle, as was their established habit. Eva followed Alpin to his little house on the banks of the loch below the castle to accept a cup of cool, watered ale and some breakfast.
"I cannot stay long today," she told him. "Margaret and her husband, Angus, have a new child, and I promised to help them this week. Their little girl just turned two, and she does not much like her new brother." She smiled.
He nodded. "I will take you over the water," he said. "But first I want to talk to you. Come into the garden." He opened the door.
Eva walked with him around the house, where rosebushes grew on the grassy shore that sloped toward the loch. She moved toward the lush, lovely tangle of vines and blooms, inhaling the soft fragrances.
The rose garden had belonged to Alpin's wife, who had died a few years earlier. Alpin claimed he had no time to dig up the rosebushes to plant onions and carrots, as he said ought to be done; he complained that he was too busy ferrying soldiers across the loch and could not learn flower gardening.
Yet the roses grew profusely, and Eva suspected Alpin encouraged them. She loved the haven provided by the rose garden, with its graceful shapes, heavenly fragrance, and delicate hues reflected in the calm loch.
"Look at this one," Alpin said, pulling a fat rose toward her. "It opened yesterday."
The large, soft flower filled her palm, colored pale salmon pink. "Alpin, it is beautiful! I have never seen a rose like it! And so late in the season—will there be more like it?" She leaned forward to sniff it.
"How do I know? They grow, and I cut them back, and they grow some more. They are a nuisance." But his gaze when he looked around him was serene.
She smiled. "What did you want to tell me?"
"I heard the soldiers say that Green Colin will soon return from France. They say he intends to petition the king for full ownership of this island. Eva, we must prevent him from taking Innisfarna—even if we cannot prevent him from marrying you."
She felt her heart tumble with dread, and she inhaled the scent of the flower again, as if its sweetness were a remedy. "We are legally betrothed, and that is near as binding as a marriage. I refuse to give up the island, and I told Colin so before he left. If I must appeal to the king myself to retain it, I will. My claim is a hereditary right, with no tie to the MacArthurs. I hope the king will respect such an ancient tradition."
"Not everyone is as honorable as you are, Eva, and we already know how
Most mornings, soldiers crossed the loch in two or three boats to tend the horses in the stable and to ride out on patrols to look for rebels—including her brother Simon and their kinsmen. Only Eva and Alpin knew where the MacArthur rebels hid in the hills above the loch, and both of them had been sworn to secrecy.
Hearing the splash of oars, she soon saw the boat glide through the fog. Alpin stilled the craft on the beach so that Eva could climb inside, and then he rowed back toward the island.
"Today," Alpin murmured, "we will work on high strokes. Stay down until we reach the far side of the island so that you will not be seen." Complying, she drew her plaid over her dark, braided hair. For the swording lessons, she usually wore an old belted plaid and shirt borrowed from Mairi's storage chest; she enjoyed the freedom, comfort, and disguise offered by the male garments.
Rounding the island, Alpin drew the boat into a cove fringed by alder and pine trees. Eva leaped out while Alpin secured the rope, and both walked into the cover of the trees. When he handed her a wooden practice sword, taking one into his own hands, she adopted a ready stance and waited for the first strike. She countered it with confidence, earning his murmured praise.
Their practice was demanding as usual, leaving her breathing hard and wiping her misted brow. Soon the sun crested the hills and began to burn off the fog, and she knew the soldiers would venture out of the castle, as was their established habit. Eva followed Alpin to his little house on the banks of the loch below the castle to accept a cup of cool, watered ale and some breakfast.
"I cannot stay long today," she told him. "Margaret and her husband, Angus, have a new child, and I promised to help them this week. Their little girl just turned two, and she does not much like her new brother." She smiled.
He nodded. "I will take you over the water," he said. "But first I want to talk to you. Come into the garden." He opened the door.
Eva walked with him around the house, where rosebushes grew on the grassy shore that sloped toward the loch. She moved toward the lush, lovely tangle of vines and blooms, inhaling the soft fragrances.
The rose garden had belonged to Alpin's wife, who had died a few years earlier. Alpin claimed he had no time to dig up the rosebushes to plant onions and carrots, as he said ought to be done; he complained that he was too busy ferrying soldiers across the loch and could not learn flower gardening.
Yet the roses grew profusely, and Eva suspected Alpin encouraged them. She loved the haven provided by the rose garden, with its graceful shapes, heavenly fragrance, and delicate hues reflected in the calm loch.
"Look at this one," Alpin said, pulling a fat rose toward her. "It opened yesterday."
The large, soft flower filled her palm, colored pale salmon pink. "Alpin, it is beautiful! I have never seen a rose like it! And so late in the season—will there be more like it?" She leaned forward to sniff it.
"How do I know? They grow, and I cut them back, and they grow some more. They are a nuisance." But his gaze when he looked around him was serene.
She smiled. "What did you want to tell me?"
"I heard the soldiers say that Green Colin will soon return from France. They say he intends to petition the king for full ownership of this island. Eva, we must prevent him from taking Innisfarna—even if we cannot prevent him from marrying you."
She felt her heart tumble with dread, and she inhaled the scent of the flower again, as if its sweetness were a remedy. "We are legally betrothed, and that is near as binding as a marriage. I refuse to give up the island, and I told Colin so before he left. If I must appeal to the king myself to retain it, I will. My claim is a hereditary right, with no tie to the MacArthurs. I hope the king will respect such an ancient tradition."
"Not everyone is as honorable as you are, Eva, and we already know how
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