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lass came to be in yer hands. Dunna worry of it.”
Within minutes Aric was mounted and leaving to meet with Caelen. As he rode away from his home, he sent a silent prayer up that the good Lord would keep his family as well as the MacDougalls safe until his return.
Chapter Eight
B eams of light streamed down through the trees and cast brilliant threads of gold onto the fresh spring grass and blooming flowers. A tall, strong man stood in the center of the trees. Light glimmered and danced all around him. It glanced off his fine clothes, his hair and the sword that hung at his side. Though she did not know his name, could not see his face, she knew the man standing before her was her father, her real father.
Warmth radiated from a smile she could not see but could only feel. With open arms he stood waiting for his little girl. He scooped her up and squeezed her so tightly that she struggled to breathe. He was whispering to her that she was bonny and sweet, and he was here to protect her. She need not worry or be frightened ever again.
In that place between dreaming and waking, a small voice spoke her name. It was whisper soft, as if it were being carried on the wings of a butterfly. Something warm and soft caressed her cheek. Weakly, she batted her hand at it, demanded it go and leave her to the dream. It ignored her quiet order and continued its soft assault. She attempted to curse at the offender, but her mouth was so unbearably void of moisture, her curse sounded more like a dry and husky grunt.
When her eyes fluttered open, the bright sunlight burned at them. She squeezed them shut, attempted to mutter another curse, and buried her head into the pillow. When the fog finally lifted, she realized she was in a bed and lying on her stomach. There was something damp and cold upon her back. She tried to lift her head to catch a glimpse at whatever it was, but the movement caused her head to throb.
When she made another futile attempt to lift it again, she heard a very soft voice speaking in her ear. She managed to turn her head, and saw that the voice belonged to a little girl. The child possessed cherubic, rosy cheeks and bright blue eyes that sparkled in the sunlight.
It was a little girl, no more than eight, who had been whispering Aishlinn’s name. She smiled sweetly before disappearing. Aishlinn wondered for a moment if she was still dreaming or had finally succumbed to death and now awaited entrance into heaven. With another move of her head, the relentless pounding proved she was not in heaven. Hell perhaps, for the pounding had a decidedly hell-like quality to it.
She had only closed her eyes for a moment when she heard Duncan’s voice. “Lass! Yer awake!” He was crouched beside her and looked quite relieved, if not downright happy, to see her. It was as if they were long lost friends who had not seen each other in months. She thought it was quite odd.
Aishlinn tried to speak. Her mouth and throat were as dry as sand, and she couldn’t manage a whisper. She tried to roll over to sit but was immediately stopped by Duncan. “Nay, lass! Lay still, now.”
She was thirsty beyond all measure. She raised her hand and pointed to her open mouth.
“Be ye hungry?” she heard Rowan ask from behind her. She cringed and shook her head and realized instantly she should not have done that. The throbbing had turned into an all out assault, as if someone were hitting her with a large tree limb.
“Thirsty, then?” Duncan asked. She nodded her head yes and knew that should she move it again, her head would definitely explode.
Within moments someone had handed Duncan a tankard of water. Aishlinn pushed up to rest on her forearms as Duncan carefully held the tankard to her lips. The water was as cold as the winter snow and it made her teeth hurt, but it felt magnificent as it hit her tongue and traveled happily down her throat. With her thirst finally quenched she collapsed back into the bed. “Are we at your
Within minutes Aric was mounted and leaving to meet with Caelen. As he rode away from his home, he sent a silent prayer up that the good Lord would keep his family as well as the MacDougalls safe until his return.
Chapter Eight
B eams of light streamed down through the trees and cast brilliant threads of gold onto the fresh spring grass and blooming flowers. A tall, strong man stood in the center of the trees. Light glimmered and danced all around him. It glanced off his fine clothes, his hair and the sword that hung at his side. Though she did not know his name, could not see his face, she knew the man standing before her was her father, her real father.
Warmth radiated from a smile she could not see but could only feel. With open arms he stood waiting for his little girl. He scooped her up and squeezed her so tightly that she struggled to breathe. He was whispering to her that she was bonny and sweet, and he was here to protect her. She need not worry or be frightened ever again.
In that place between dreaming and waking, a small voice spoke her name. It was whisper soft, as if it were being carried on the wings of a butterfly. Something warm and soft caressed her cheek. Weakly, she batted her hand at it, demanded it go and leave her to the dream. It ignored her quiet order and continued its soft assault. She attempted to curse at the offender, but her mouth was so unbearably void of moisture, her curse sounded more like a dry and husky grunt.
When her eyes fluttered open, the bright sunlight burned at them. She squeezed them shut, attempted to mutter another curse, and buried her head into the pillow. When the fog finally lifted, she realized she was in a bed and lying on her stomach. There was something damp and cold upon her back. She tried to lift her head to catch a glimpse at whatever it was, but the movement caused her head to throb.
When she made another futile attempt to lift it again, she heard a very soft voice speaking in her ear. She managed to turn her head, and saw that the voice belonged to a little girl. The child possessed cherubic, rosy cheeks and bright blue eyes that sparkled in the sunlight.
It was a little girl, no more than eight, who had been whispering Aishlinn’s name. She smiled sweetly before disappearing. Aishlinn wondered for a moment if she was still dreaming or had finally succumbed to death and now awaited entrance into heaven. With another move of her head, the relentless pounding proved she was not in heaven. Hell perhaps, for the pounding had a decidedly hell-like quality to it.
She had only closed her eyes for a moment when she heard Duncan’s voice. “Lass! Yer awake!” He was crouched beside her and looked quite relieved, if not downright happy, to see her. It was as if they were long lost friends who had not seen each other in months. She thought it was quite odd.
Aishlinn tried to speak. Her mouth and throat were as dry as sand, and she couldn’t manage a whisper. She tried to roll over to sit but was immediately stopped by Duncan. “Nay, lass! Lay still, now.”
She was thirsty beyond all measure. She raised her hand and pointed to her open mouth.
“Be ye hungry?” she heard Rowan ask from behind her. She cringed and shook her head and realized instantly she should not have done that. The throbbing had turned into an all out assault, as if someone were hitting her with a large tree limb.
“Thirsty, then?” Duncan asked. She nodded her head yes and knew that should she move it again, her head would definitely explode.
Within moments someone had handed Duncan a tankard of water. Aishlinn pushed up to rest on her forearms as Duncan carefully held the tankard to her lips. The water was as cold as the winter snow and it made her teeth hurt, but it felt magnificent as it hit her tongue and traveled happily down her throat. With her thirst finally quenched she collapsed back into the bed. “Are we at your
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