THE healer hovered over her as her eyes opened for the first time since she’d been in the dungeon. Her sight adjusted to the shift in lighting. Flames from the hearth danced on the walls of the cottage.
Beatrice could hardly believe that the plan, in part, had worked, but now her belly grumbled something fierce.
“Lord Almighty, Deirdre, tell me ye have some bread.”
“Come sit up and I’ll get ye a little something to eat. We must make it quick. Sinclair has my cottage being watched, so it wouldna surprise me if they come in the morning for ye.”
Deirdre had passed her some bread and then some water when they heard horses approaching.
“Lord have mercy, we havena any time for another brew!” the old woman exclaimed, her hands trembling. “I’m so sorry, lass.”
The cottage door flung open to reveal the commander and his elite guard in the doorway.
“Is the lass any better?”
“She has only just woken up and is weak. She needs more time.”
The commander pushed his way through the cottage, ripping the cloth that separated her from the rest of the space.
“Yer getting some color on yer face, lass.” He turned his head back, signaling to the others. “Grab her.”
Beatrice held back a sob threatening to escape her lips. She sincerely hoped that they’d just kill her. Returning to the dungeon would prove to be impossible for escape. She’d barely had enough time to wrap a plaid over her shift before she was lifted and tossed over a soldier’s shoulder.
Within a quarter of an hour, she was hauled into the kitchens, taking Cook by surprise as they all stood there waiting for the laird to arrive.
When Sinclair finally made his appearance, his stern look frightened everyone, as it did when he normally entered a room.
“Ye here have outlived yer purpose, and while killing ye would bring Lady Sinclair much satisfaction, I’ve no desire to make her happy. I hereby exile ye from Sinclair land.”
“But—” She had to put on a face of disappointment. She couldna let the laird see that he’d all but made her plan to escape all the easier.
Beatrice was cut short. She turned to Laird McIntyre, who had been in idle in the hall. Pools of joy stared back at her. She could feel her own tears filling up in her eyes. She ran out of the hall and waited outside for the guards to accompany her back to her cottage.
Tears of joy fell until she stumbled at her doorstep. Beatrice threw the little belongings she possessed into a sack and followed behind two guards until they met with another two on horseback.
“The wench is to be taken off our lands. Drop her on McKenzie land, and we’ll see how long it will take before she’s struck down by an arrow.”
Appalled at the suggestion that she’d be killed before running as fast as she could away from this land, she turned her nervousness away from them, but she was pulled up onto a horse by an unfamiliar soldier. They rode for hours. Just as the sun was setting over yonder, she was lifted and tossed to the ground like a heap of waste. Before she could protest, the horseman left without haste, the horse’s hooves pounding into the earth making a thunderous sound.
Beatrice sat briefly, trying not to wallow in sadness because a glimmer of hope remained. She only wished she knew precisely in what direction she was going. Sinclair had made his hope clear that she’d be killed by the McKenzies, so she needed to avoid being seen by them.
She rose from the earthy patch of the forest floor and followed a creek to the west until she heard some shouting. Beatrice found some shrubs and kept low to the ground, hoping to remain unnoticed.
As the sun set and the voices faded, she kept on walking along the water’s edge for what seemed an eternity until she could walk no farther. She found an embankment to sleep under and stayed there until she was shaken from a deep sleep.
“Wake up, lassie. Yer trespassing on McIntyre land.”
Beatrice tried to stand, but having not eaten a proper meal since yesterday morning, she swooned when she stood straight.
She came to again, but this time she was being carried on horseback to God only knew where. They rode for an hour more, and all the while, she remained as still as still could be. How long would it take for Colin’s clan to return to rescue him? Or would they even believe a single word she’d tell his commanders? For as much joy as she had to be out of the Sinclair’s grip, there was much worry to be had.
Her captors had ridden through a lower bailey and just as quickly beyond the walls of the upper bailey.
“What do ye have there, Ewen? Did ye finally catch yerself a willing bride?”
Men hooted and hollered until she was lifted down from the horse.
“Nay. We found the lass sleeping at the creek bordering the McKenzies’. They’d have raped her and left her for dead if we’d continued on our way. Where’s Lady McIntyre?”
Beatrice took the exchange in. Nervous flutterings raced through her body. She’d finally found Colin’s home, men, and temporary sanctuary. Her faith renewed, all she could think about was getting their laird rescued.
The man smirked. “She’s in the great hall. Let the lass meet her, and she’ll decide what we’re to do with the trespasser.”
“Can ye walk on yer own?” the Highlander asked her gruffly.
Beatrice followed behind, trying not to stumble like a drunk, but her empty stomach protested the entire time.
When they entered the grand castle, which appeared to be invincible and fortified stronger than the Sinclair’s, she met the silver-haired beauty that had to have been Laird McIntyre’s mother.
Her hair was pulled back. She wore a rich gown of deep violet and gold and the family’s plaid over her shoulder. The woman was stunning at first glance.
“Ewen, who do ye have here?” she asked with a smile.
“My lady, I am Beatrice, former servant of the Sinclair. I know where yer son is, and ye haven’t much time. The Sinclair has allied with some of yer own enemies, and the path to rescue him will be met with great betrayal.”
“Betrayal. While I suspect that Sinclair is up to his neck in this plot, why should we believe ye?”
“I saw him with my own two eyes. I tended to him and brought him some food in the dungeon.”
She nodded at the guard, who left the room, and extended a hand to Beatrice.
“Ye know, there’s something about ye that is vaguely familiar. I canna quite put my finger on it, but when I do, we’ll discuss it some more. Come now and let us discuss my son’s welfare.”
Beatrice followed the woman to a seat next to the hearth.
“Bertha, please bring us something warm to drink and maybe a little something for the young lady to eat. She’s too pale for my likin’.”
“Thank ye for yer kindness, my lady, but Laird McIntyre’s men must hurry. Sinclair has only given three more days to decide which daughter Laird McIntyre will marry, and if he doesn’t decide, Sinclair will make the decision for him. I also heard there’s some dissension about Sinclair’s army and that a few of yer neighboring clans have allied with him.”
The laird’s mother leaned forward to take Beatrice’s hands into hers.
“My dear girl, how was it that ye were found so close to us?”
“I-I was exiled and kept following the stream, hoping I’d find yer clan along the way.”
“Why were ye exiled?”
“To be honest, I suspect it had much to do with my lineage and the laird lying to his wife. Before Sinclair had me escorted out, Lady Sinclair said she was staring at a ghost and caller the laird a liar.”
“What is yer full name, dear?”
“Beatrice Dunn?”
“I doona believe I know the name. Who are yer parents, and how could they allow ye to be exiled in such a manner?”
“I was orphaned, and I was brought to the Sinclairs’ and raised by the former stablemaster and his wife. After he passed, my remaining guardian all but abandoned me, leaving me behind to nothing.”
The memories of the last few days came rushing forth all at once, bringing an onslaught of tears.
“Tell me one last thing. How does my son fare?”
“He is well, madam, but we mustn’t tarry at all. I suspect Sinclair will ambush yer son’s commanders, but I canna say for certain.”
“Well, I guess we’ll just have to inform the men. I will pass the information along. Let me have a room prepared for ye so that ye can rest. We’ll sort everything out in no time at all.”
Beatrice got up as ordered and followed the lady up to where the bedrooms were, stopping at the last door on the right.
“Ah, here we go. The other rooms are quite unsuitable and have been undergoing some changes. I’ve put ye across the hall from the laird’s room.”
“Why would he want such a thing?”
“If yer a friend of the laird’s, yer a friend to the family. Besides, ye appear to have gone through yer own hell.”
Lady McIntyre lifted Beatrice’s hair to reveal the wound on her temple.
“I’ll not ask right now, as ye could use the rest, but ye will tell me the story behind that gash. I can see it was well mended.”
“Deidre did a wonderful job of mending my cut. Lord, I hope she’s all right.”
“What Deidre do ye speak of?”
“She is the healer for the Sinclairs. I believe her last name is Campbell.”
Her ladyship gently shoved her into the room. Beatrice’s guess was for privacy, but who knew?
“Deidre Campbell serves the Sinclair? How odd. I doona know how that can be possible. She was married to a MacNeil. I wonder…”
“My lady, as far as I know, Deidre has been healer for the Sinclairs for many, many years.”
“My dear girl, get some rest, and I do have my suspicions of yer ancestry, but I must confer with one of our elders. I will have one of the maids bring up a change of clothing and wine. Rest easy, my girl. All will be right in the world.”
Beatrice sat on the bed with the intent to only rest her legs, but when the rest of her body leaned back, she couldna help but close her eyes and follow her body’s command for sleep.
I will finally learn the truth. The vise that had gripped her heart an hour earlier eased its tension. Colin would be freed soon, and the Sinclair would finally be stopped.