Page 21 of The Guardian's Bride
“We all ran out and left the Highlander there. That old chapel is haunted worse than the tower, I hear.”
The guard looked toward the chapel and shivered. “We only use this place for storage and to house prisoners briefly. We should all leave.”
“Aye! Well, best get this chit to Berwick so they can lock her up there. Keep away until them spirits calm down after the storm. Hey, smells like supper is ready.” He jabbed a thumb toward the fire, took the girl’s arm, and deliberately headed for the stables as the guard turned to walk toward his supper.
“Goblins?” the girl asked.
“Some, they say. We will hope that tale keeps them away for a while.” Aedan headed for the chapel ruin. “Move fast and keep close.”
Loping ahead, a hand on her arm, he knew her tied wrists hampered her, yet she managed, skirts billowing. Rain fell in earnest as he tugged her toward the chapel. Despite broken walls and fallen stones, it would provide shelter briefly.
Ducking inside, pulling her with him, he shoved the half-burned door closed. A gap in the front wall looked out on the tower, stables, surrounding hills, and woodland. Aedan studied the lay of the land, judging their chances. Then he urged the girl toward the shadowed end of the chapel and seated her on a stack of fallen stones.
“Stay here. I will go watch.”
He found a vantage point near the entrance where he could see the group by the fire. They tucked into supper, acting relaxed, helmets off, perhaps talking of haunted Yester now. He had told the truth, having heard tales of the place, yet never thought to be here.
Soon he returned to the girl. She held out her hands, still joined by rope.
“Sorry.” Dropping to a knee, he worked the knots loose. She rubbed her wrists.
“Thank you. What now?” Her honeyed voice plunged through him; that alluring sound in another time and place could have taken his defenses down quick. But he was wary and guarded, his glance straying to the view beyond the broken walls.
“We wait. When they discover we have left, they will go in pursuit. For now, we are better off here.”
“How long must we stay here?” Her eyes were gray-blue framed in black lashes. Wide, earnest, calm, keenly intelligent eyes.
“In a hurry? Where would you go?” He sat on a rough block of stone, tugged off the helmet, and shoved back the wild tangle of his hair.
“I want to go home, but I should return to Lanercost to see the king.”
“That is no place for you if you attempted to poison him.”
“I never did. King Edward knows I would never harm him.”
“Your king is a madman, and you would be a madwoman to go to him. Either way, I will not take you there.”
“You do not need to take me anywhere. I will go on my own. And he is not my king, he is my patient.” In the rainy half-light, she was a beauty, her face a delicate oval, eyes the gray-blue of thunderclouds. Dark hair showed in ripples beneath the draped veil. She looked familiar in a misty way, as if he had seen her in a dream.
A memory stirred, slipped away. “Are you a healer, a wise-wife?”
“An herbal healer. Not a wife. And not very wise.” She gave a rueful shrug.
“It is not wise to poison a king and not finish the job.”
“I did not do that!” Her chin jutted out.
“But youcouldhave done it. You have the knowledge.”
“Anyone who works with herbs could. But I would not.”
“Pity, seeing as it was Edward.”
She flashed him a steely look.
What troubled him was not only the guards beyond and the risk of being discovered. Memories accosted him, swept in, faded out. The girl was familiar.
The chapel was a sad ruin, like Scotland’s very faith collapsed. He sighed and glanced toward the guards by the fire. Leaning his elbows on his knees, entwining his fingers, he considered how to get out of here and to Fife, and what to do with the girl.
