Page 4 of Lost with a Scot
Aiden was secretly amused at his two older brothers having married into English families as they were both quite proud of their Scottish blood.
Even their younger sister, Rosalind, had married not one buttwoEnglishmen. She had first married an older man with a kind heart years ago to escape their father, then as a wealthy widow had found her true match in her second husband, a powerful English baron.
Aiden’s brothers had quite thoroughly mixed themselves into the lives of their wives’ families, while Aiden had managed to escape this. He didn’t mean to be apart from everyone else—it was just his way. His mother and siblings had understood that about him, but not his father.
He felt safest and most comfortable when he was alone or with his animals. Distrusting other people was an issue he was constantly trying to overcome. His father had hurt him the most, and his brothers hadn’t always been able to protect him, nor could his late mother. He’d often dreamed of running away to England or Wales or perhaps even farther, but he had stayed in Scotland because it was his home, and he loved his brothers and sister too much to leave.
Aiden dressed in a pair of buckskin trousers and a shirt, not bothering with a waistcoat. He left his bedchamber and walked down the hall, the pine marten trailing behind him as loyal as any hound. He came down the grand staircase and glanced up at the restored arched ceilings of the castle. Several months ago, the castle had partially burned in a fire that almost killed Brock and Joanna.
Despite how much work and money the repairs had required, the restoration of the castle had proved a positive experience for everyone. It felt like a new home now, one more welcoming, full of sunny memories rather than painful ones.
The marten wound herself through the gleaming wood spindles of the staircase before meandering off her own way to some other nest she had hidden in the castle. Sounds of laughter echoed down the hall from whatever it was that currently amused Brock and Joanna. No one would miss Aiden if he disappeared for an afternoon. No one ever did.
He headed to the kitchens, where their cook left out a bag of meats, cheeses, and fresh bread for him on the days she guessed he might go riding, which was usually every other day. He took the bag from the countertop while the plump cook had her back turned and slipped out the nearest door toward the stables. He was very good at going about unseen when he wished to, which, given his height, was an impressive skill.
The stable hands greeted Aiden and politely stepped back as he visited each of the horses in their stalls. The horses bumped his hands with their noses, eager for attention. He chuckled and stroked his fingertips down the bridges of each horse’s nose and fed them clumps of sugar. When he reached his own horse, Thundir, named in Gaelic after the storm he was born in, Aiden put a harness on him, but no saddle. He rarely used them. He put a light blanket upon the horse’s back and mounted up using a small footstool nearby. He rode Thundir out of the stables and toward the distant hills. Thick, building clouds towered above them in the sky, creating fast-moving shadows on the bright gold grass. The hills were adorned with hues of pink and purple heather blossoms.
He bent low over the beast’s neck to whisper into his ear, “Chase the clouds.” He had a strange feeling that he was not running away from but toward something for once. Whatever it was, he would find it. His heart was calling for him to find it. He sensed that when he did find it, the peace he had longed for all his life would finally be his.
CHAPTER2
One month later
The North Sea, off the coast of North Berwick, Scotland
Anna and Pilar never saw the storm approach as their ship crossed the North Sea. Nor did the captain of theRuritanian Staror his crew. A cold north wind rose up foul and fierce when they were almost all the way across the sea, headed toward England.
Under orders to stay below in their cabin, Anna and Pilar huddled together as the ship rose and fell upon mountainous white-capped waves. Pilar rushed over to a bucket in the corner to be sick, and Anna knelt beside her maid, holding her hair back from her face and sharing soothing words while she rubbed the other woman’s back.
“That’s it—take a breath and we’ll be out of the storm soon,” Anna said, but the words tasted like a lie. She had a terrible feeling that the storm would be the end of their voyage.
After several hours, she coaxed Pilar to lie in bed. Moments later, a sailor pounded a fist on their cabin door.
“My ladies, we’re taking on water. We’re abandoning the ship. You must come!” the man shouted.
“Abandoning the ship?” Anna frantically pulled Pilar up to her feet. They had slept in their clothes the last several days, so there was no need to worry about their state of dress.
They stumbled up the gangway and onto the deck. The captain was unfastening a lifeboat from the side of the ship. It was being lowered over the side when he saw Anna and her maid, and he waved them over frantically. Anna guided Pilar toward the boat first, despite her protest.
“My lady—Oh!” Anna pushed Pilar’s back, and the captain’s first mate caught her and settled her in the boat. The captain stepped in next, and Anna followed him over the side of the ship. The captain held out his hands to catch her, but just then a mighty wave rolled over the ship and his hands slipped. For a brief instant she hung in space, and the pit of her stomach dropped before she plunged into the waves far below.
She sucked in a breath before dark, gray water closed over her head. The icy water cut through her body like a knife. The weight of her skirts and boots pulled her down into the depths. Fatigue began to set in, weighing Anna’s limbs down, but something deep within her was kindled to life, as weak as a small candle in a storm, but still a flame.
She remembered the man from the enchanted well in her dreams. He was racing toward her, the horse beneath him a dark, dappled gray. Shadows and light flickered upon his face as he rode and bent low over the horse. She somehow knew he was riding as fast as the wind itself, although the images were moving slowly.
“Trust me...” His words echoed inside her head.
That small flame grew brighter within her, and some latent strength returned to her. She kicked, clawed, and fought to reach the distant surface of the sea far above her. She was the daughter of kings and queens. She was descended from an ancient line of warriors. She would not let the sea claim her life.
Breaking the surface with a cry, she forced air into her searing lungs. She wiped seawater from her eyes but saw no sign of the lifeboat she’d hoped to find. There was nothing about her but the wreck of theRuritanian Star. The ocean had torn the ship to pieces.
She swam toward the flotsam of timbers and planks, hoping to find something to catch hold of to stay above the water. A long, thick mast drifted past and she caught it, curling her arms around it just as a wave smashed into her. Holding her breath, she sank down and then bobbed back to the surface with the mast. She gasped for air and searched for any distant outline of land or the lifeboat that held the other survivors.
There was no sign of the boat, but she did spot the silhouette of land. It was so far away... too far away. And she was so very tired...
Anna bound her arms in the loose ropes that were attached to the mast to help keep herself above the water in case she passed out. Then she kicked toward the distant silhouette of land until her body surrendered to fatigue and she slipped into unconsciousness.
“Trust me...”The comforting words came to her somewhere between the waking world and one of her dreams. Pain became distant as the cold crept through her until she was too numb to stay in the land of the living...
