Page 66 of The Forest Bride
She had been a small girl when she had given her silly, dreamy heart to black-haired Duncan Dhu, who had been justan embarrassed lad then. Later, when she was nine and he was a lanky, beautiful young man with eyes as blue as the heart of a peat fire, she had lost her young heart to his shy beauty, his quiet manners, his cheeks that stained pink with his thoughts. She knew that one day they would share a home, a castle, children, dogs, happiness. A few years later, he was the lovely shy knight who broke her heart.
The memories unsettled her. She stood, wandered about the room, sipped watered wine from a jug, glanced again at the door slightly ajar. She could walk out and leave Brechlinn. But she would stay. Duncan knew that.
On the table lay the stones that she and Duncan had found by the waterfall pool. Picking up each one, she examined them, and held one to her left eye.
She could see the window where the late afternoon sun spilled through glass roundels; there, the open door with a band of light filling the gap.
The light expanded, blurred. Something moved—a tall dark-haired man. She lowered the stone and blinked. No one was there. Peering again, she saw Duncan Campbell at the door. She lowered the stone. Just the door.
Going to the threshold, she looked out. No one was on the stairs. She raised the stone again, turned toward the window, and looked through the hole.
Tiny in the frame of the hole, a broad green field spread out in bright sun. She lowered the stone. Just the window. Lifting the stone again to look through its mystical little doorway, she saw the field again.
Then, men and horses came into view—hundreds of them. Thousands, into the distance. Lances against the sky, blood on steel, blood on the grass. A man on a horse, a brawny man, bronzed by the sun. A man in his prime with strength and powerand resilience.A king.Words came into her mind.A Bruce. A king. Scotland for the Scots.
She gasped, then stepped back, lowered the stone. What was that?
Hand trembling, she set the stone on the table, went to the bed, and sat. Wrapping herself in the blanket, she closed her eyes to try to sort out what she had seen.
The stone had shown a vision, solid, frightening, and profound.Set the stone to your eye, lass, and thee shall see what is not there, Thomas had told her on a day, eight years ago, when he had promised the brooch and pendant would be hers. That had not been long before he died.
But this plain river stone was not the one enchanted by Thomas’s faery ilk. The blue brooch stone was more powerful. She had to recover it. No one beyond Thomas’s kin should have control of it. The pendant, too, was enchanted, so he had said.
She fell back on the bed with a groan, confused, stunned. She had always believed that her sisters had true gifts and she had very little. The vision was a revelation. A thrill, to be honest, yet she did not understand what it was, what she must do with it. But she would keep it to herself.
Stretching out on the bed, she curled in the plaid blanket that still smelled of Duncan slightly, wool oils mingled with the piney, smoky scent of the man. Finding the dip in the thin mattress where she had lain beside his warmth and strength and quietude, she wrapped herself up, and sooner than she knew, drifted off.
Startled out ofa forgotten dream, she sat up, surprised to find the room in shadow, the light grayed toward evening with no candles lit within. Shoving back her hair, she rose to duck behind a curtained corner to relieve herself in a chamber pot and splashher face and hands in a bowl of water set in a wall niche. As she emerged, braiding her hair, she heard a knock on the door.
“Lady Margaret?” Euphemia peered inside, then pushed the door open, a tray in her hands. “Are you awake, then?’
“I am. Oh, thank you—supper already? Is it so late?”
“Just soup with fresh ale and bannocks. I would have brought it sooner, but Duncan Campbell said he looked in not long ago and you were asleep.”
“He came here? I did not know.”
“He is leaving your door open now. Good! I did not like that. So you are free to go about the castle. Though if you left altogether, he might protest.”
“He said nothing to me about it.”
Effie rolled her eyes. “That is just his way. Keeps too much inside.”
“I would leave, but—not yet.” She felt a strong urge to find Lilias and Andrew, but knew she needed Duncan’s help. Even when she had the frantic, mad idea to escape the tower and castle and take a boat down the loch, she had lacked a plan.
“He came up to see you, but for much of the afternoon he has been shut up in his library chamber working on documents. He travels around the region regularly for the justice courts, but spends much time reading cases and writing letters when he is here.”
“A busy man.” Margaret took a seat as Effie set out a bowl of soup with bannocks, cheese, a fresh jug of ale. “Will you join me?”
“I ate with my brother earlier, but thank you, my lady.”
While Margaret ate, Effie spoke of the weather and the work around the castle. “Brechlinn Castle is in need of repair, you know.”
“I noticed,” Margaret said.
“He wants to make something fine of this place. When he first came here, the English had made sad work of the place. He hired workers and put his own back into helping them. But he was called away to Ireland, and the English came again and ruined what was done. Then they decided Brechlinn was too remote and lost interest. Now that Duncan is back, repairs have begun once more.”
“The English might want men here to control the north end of Loch Lomond.”
