As if in a dream, Heather obeyed. The woman peered over it, frowning.
“Your head line has many crosses over it,” she said. “This means that you have major decisions to make, in your life. You are torn between two worlds; you don’t know which way to turn.”
Oshina traced the lines of Heather’s palm. “You have smaller lines crossing into your heart line,” she said. “You love deeply, but there is sadness there as well. Something major has happened to you, in love.” The woman looked up suddenly, staring at Heather.
“I see change, all around you,” she intoned. “You do not know which way to go, but you must decide, very soon. Events will unfold of their own volition, and you must choose a side. Duty, or love? Choose carefully, Madam. It will affect your whole life. Once chosen, it cannot be undone.”
Heather felt a fission of unease enter her soul.
Oshina stood. “There is one more thing,” she said.
“A babe is growing in your belly. A boy. He is the crux; he is the reason for all that must unfold. I see separation and sadness. Where, or how, I cannot tell you. But it is written, as surely as the stars cross the sky at night.”
Heather gasped. “I am with child?”
Oshina smiled. “It is small; he lays like a bean in the pit of your belly. But yes, it is so.”
“How can you know?” Heather was flabbergasted.
“I know many things, Madam,” Oshina replied. “And now, my payment.” She held out her hand. “We will meet again. That, too, is written in the stars.”
***
Heather stumbled back into the light, trying to get her wayward feet to carry her forward.
Had she dreamt it?
She couldn’t recall much, anymore. Oshina’s voice, lulling her almost into a trance. The darkness of the tent. The whispered words, foretelling doom. But also, birth.
Was it true? How could the old gypsy know?
“Madam!” Grizel’s voice pierced her mind.
The servant was running toward her, followed by the two guards that had accompanied them. She looked distressed.
“Oh, Madam, where were you?” Grizel’s voice was high with fear. “We searched everywhere! I thought you had disappeared.”
“I am alright, Grizel.” Heather heard her own voice, as if from far away. “I found a seat, to rest. But I am tired. Could you take me back to the Castle?”
Grizel nodded, relieved. Heather could see she was grateful she hadn’t run away.
They started walking back to the carriage.
Grizel was talking, but Heather no longer heard her.
The words of the fortune teller were playing over and over in her mind.
She rested her hand on her belly. If it was true, it changed everything.
The call of her clan had been muted recently. She had been swayed by love, and forgotten her duty. That her clan needed a laird – which, apparently, she was going to provide.
She knew what she had to do.
Chapter Ten
“You must not stray! A fair is full of tinkers and con artists, waiting to take advantage of a woman alone!”
Dougal was pacing the room. Heather was sitting on a seat, letting him vent his frustration.
She had made Grizel promise not to say a word about her sudden faintness and disappearance. But, of course, the two guards had blabbed to Dougal as soon as they got back to the Castle.
‘Please, my love, calm down,” Heather responded now. “I was all right! I just felt faint for a minute and needed to sit down away from the crowds. I strayed further than I intended and lost Grizel and the men momentarily. That is all.”
Dougal rounded on her. “That is not all, Madam! Anyone could have taken you…you could have got lost completely…” He raked a hand through his dark hair.
He came to her, wrenching her into his arms. “I could not bear to lose you,” he whispered into her hair.
Heather looked up at him, stroking his face. “You will not lose me,” she said.
But even as the words left her mouth, she wavered.
Seeing Dougal again, and getting caught up in his whirlwind of emotion, confused her. She had been so certain when she left the fair as to what her course must be.
But now, with his hands upon her, staring into his beautiful face, she wondered how she could do it.
She loved him so. It would be like death to her.
“Heather, you are my love,” he whispered. “What happened today has made me more determined. I am going to bring the wedding forward. I cannot wait any longer for you to be my lawful wife, to show the world how much I love you.” He stroked her face. “That you are mine.”
She smiled, joy overwhelming her. Oh, how wonderful it would be, to be his wife!
But then, she thought of the gypsy’s prophesies.
A boy was growing in her belly. A son – their son. Conceived in passion, and love.
She opened her mouth to tell him, to share the news. He would be over the moon with happiness!
But something stopped her. The words froze on her lips.
“Three weeks from now,” Dougal was saying. “The wedding will happen then – enough time to get the banns declared. Oh, my love, I cannot wait.” He grasped her to him, hugging her with such ferocity the breath seemed to leave her.
Only three weeks. She must make her plans, and leave before the deed was done.
A tear ran down her cheek. She thought her heart might split in two and fall, shattered, in pieces onto the cold stone floor.
***
They made love that night with such tenderness that Heather wept.
“Why do you weep, my love?” Dougal stroked her leg in the dark. She could feel his breath on her face.
“Because I am so happy,” Heather whispered back.
It was partly true. She was so in love, and felt all of the world drain away when they were together. Duty, and responsibility, fell away as surely as their garments had fallen to the floor. She felt wrapped in his love, like a warm fur on a cold winter’s night.
But she also wept with sadness.
She would be forgoing all this when she left. She would never entwine her limbs with his again, nor stare on his beloved face. All would be lost to her.
Why must life be so hard? Why did she have to make such a painful decision?
But she was a Leith. She was the Maid of Caithness, of the Clan Gunn. It was her duty to provide a laird for her clan. The weight of the responsibility lay like a stone on her conscience.
Why couldn’t she have been free, to choose?
But she was not. As Oshina had said – our fate is written in the stars. We do not choose where destiny will land us.
She wrapped herself around him. For the moment, at least, they were together.
***
Grizel came the next morning, carrying a gown over her arm. It was new.
“Where did that come from?” Heather watched the servant lay it on the bed.
“The laird must have picked it up for you yesterday,” Grizel replied. “Have you ever seen such a beauty?”
It was indeed beautiful. A muted green, it seemed to carry the sea on a dull day in its fabric. Celtic knots were skilfully embroidered in golden thread.
“I am being spoilt,” Heather replied. She picked up the skirt of the gown, caressing it.
“You don’t seem happy with it, Madam.” Grizel had a puzzled note in her voice.
“What silliness! I love it,” Heather replied. She must not give away the turmoil in her heart. Everything must appear as before.
Grizel slipped the gown over Heather’s head. She frowned.
“It seems tight, across the bodice,” she said, pulling at it. “That is strange! I gave the laird your measurements from your other gowns…” She trailed off, staring at Heather’s stomach.
Heather stilled. What was she doing?
“If I didn’t know any better, Madam,” Grizel said slowly, “I would think you are gaining weight.”
&nb
sp; She turned to Heather sharply. “That slope of the belly? It only happens for one reason.”
She smiled slowly. “Madam, I think you may be breeding!”
Chapter Eleven
Heather froze.
Grizel must not suspect. No one must suspect.
“Breeding?” she forced her voice to be light. “I think not, Grizel! My courses have been coming as normal. It is just the good food my laird keeps forcing on me, I think.”
Now that she thought of it, the full moon had come and went without her courses appearing. She hadn’t noticed, basking as she had been in the love of Dougal.
Grizel looked skeptical. “Aye, well, usually the courses stop, but not always.” She looked again at Heather’s belly. “Time will tell, though, Madam. If your belly continues to expand, I think that we can safely say you are with child. The laird will be thrilled!”
“You must say nothing to the laird,” Heather said quickly. Grizel looked at her.
“It’s just…” she stammered. “It’s just…I want to be sure. I don’t think that I am, but as you say, time will tell. No reason to get my laird’s hopes up if it is all for naught.”
Grizel slowly nodded. “There is truth in that,” she agreed. “Sometimes it is a false alarm, and sometimes the wee bairn slips away before it’s ready. No need to tell the laird, yet.”
“No need at all,” Heather replied. She looked away. Relief washed over her.
But it was a sign. If Grizel had noticed, it would not be long before Dougal himself would as well. He shared her bed; he knew her body as much as she did. Yes, he was a man, and not as observant as a woman would be, but eventually, he would notice.
She didn’t think she could do what she had to do, if he knew she was expecting their child.
She must steel herself; she must lock up her heart.
Duty had to come first.
***
The banns had been read in the Church. The wedding was going ahead.
The best pipers in the land had been sent for. Invitations had gone out to the four corners of Scotland. The castle was a frenzy of activity - rugs were hauled outside and beaten, silver polished and bed linen stripped. Extra cooks had been hired, to prepare the massive banquet that was planned.
The dressmaker from Aberdeen, who up until now had been trusted with making all her gowns, was deemed not good enough to make her wedding gown. Dougal had sent for a dressmaker from Edinburgh, no less.
“Only the best for my wife,” he had told her.
Heather smiled, but inside she was in torment.
This should be the happiest time of her life. How could she do what she had to do?
And yet, she had to. She kept watching the guards, carefully monitoring their movements. She had more freedom now, but she was still watched. She would have to plan her moment carefully.
But time was running out. Not only was her wedding day fast approaching, but her belly was growing. It seemed to Heather that every new day she looked down to see it jutting forward just a little bit more.
Dougal hadn’t noticed, not yet. But he would. And she could see the questioning gaze on Grizel’s face every time she dressed and undressed her.
It didn’t help that she had to have numerous fittings for her wedding gown. The dressmaker from Edinburgh had to let out the gown the third fitting she had for it. He would never have brought up the subject to her, but she could see he was suspicious, too.
It didn’t help that she was starting to feel ill.
She had to smile and endure it. Find her way to the privy and be sick. Thank the Lord it wasn’t that often, to arouse anyone’s concern.
***
Dougal stood gazing up at his father’s portrait.
Well, what do you think, old man? he thought to himself. Your only son is laird of Aberdeenshire, just as you intended. Your son is about to marry the most beautiful woman in all of Scotland. A lady at last for the Castle.
Dougal thought his father would have been proud. It was a pity he couldn’t be there to share his wedding day. And his mother, of course. He glanced at the portrait opposite, of the lovely dark haired woman who he resembled so much. Would she be proud, too?
There was a knock on the door.
“Come in,” he answered.
Knox entered with the man, McGregor, who was looking fearful, as always.
“Ah, McGregor! You are timely.” Dougal smiled magnanimously. “I have thought long and hard about the rent that you owe.” He tapped his finger on the mantelpiece.
McGregor looked trapped. “My Lord – “
Dougal put a hand in the air to silence him. “I have changed my mind,” he stated. “I will accept the arrears in increments, as you can afford it.” He cleared his throat. “And I will not be turning you off your land. Your family has tilled that land for generations. You should continue to do so.”
“Oh, my Lord!” McGregor knelt in front of Dougal, removing his hat. “I thank you from the bottom of my heart! You will not regret this, I promise you. I will make the rent up!”
“I have no doubt,” smiled Dougal.
Knox looked at him sharply. What had brought about this change of heart?
Then it dawned on him. It was his impending nuptials, of course. Knox thought he had never seen a man as happy as Dougal was, since he had announced his intention to marry the Jewel of the Highlands.
It was a change for the better. Love had obviously mellowed his laird, opening his heart and allowing compassion to enter. He had noticed that Dougal was not going to the brothels anymore; he seemed uninterested in any woman but her.
He would become a better laird now. The warrior’s harsh edges were softening.
And yet, Knox couldn’t shake a feeling of misgiving. Everything seemed well – a wedding was happening; his laird was in love. But what of the lady?
Knox was a realist. He knew Heather appeared as a woman in love, but she was still the Maid of Caithness. Taken against her will. Her ties to her clan were strong. Stronger than her love for the laird?
Knox resolved to watch her. Was she the euphoric bride in waiting everyone would have him believe?
Chapter Twelve
It was the night before the wedding.
Important people had started arriving, and were now resting in the guests’ quarters.
Heather’s wedding gown was hanging off the wardrobe door in her chamber. The most beautiful gown that she had ever seen. White silk, overlaid with rich green and gold brocade. The dressmaker from Edinburgh had surpassed himself.
It seemed to have a life of its own, moving slightly in the breeze that came through the window. Look at me, it seemed to whisper to her. Wear me. It beckoned, weaving a spell around her. It would be so easy to go ahead, slip it on tomorrow and walk to the chapel.
But as she watched it, it seemed to change form. She could no longer see the beauty. She could only see the fabric clinging tighter and tighter to her, like a manacle.
Chaining her to Dunnottar Castle, forever.
Destiny was written. She could not wear it.
She hunted underneath the mattress of her bed until her hands found the small vial. She pulled it out, and stood staring at it for what seemed an eternity before finally sighing.
It was time.
***
There had been no other way.
She had watched the guards for her chance to escape. Strangely, they seemed to be watching her more than ever. And once, she had seen Dougal’s man, Knox, staring at her. Assessing her, coldly. His eyes had felt like ice on her skin.
Did he suspect?
She had felt panic bubbling up in her. Time was slipping away.
And then – the answer.
She had gone to the local healer, claiming to be unable to sleep. Asking for a sleeping draught.
The healer had appraised her. “Wedding nerves then, Madam?”
“Aye,” Heather had answered. “I need something strong, mind. I am so busy with my wedding approaching,
and need my sleep. I want something that will knock me out straight away.”
“Aye,” the healer had replied. “I can make something that will help you.”
She turned, picking from various herbs which hung drying above her work bench. Satisfied, she ground them together in her mortar and pestle. Then she carefully added liquid, straining it until she had the desired dose and consistency. She poured it into a small vial.
“This is strong,” the healer said, passing it to her. “Only a few drops, in your ale before bed. It should help.”
“Thank you,” Heather had smiled, passing silver to the woman.
She had hidden the vial underneath her mattress, and awaited her chance.
The moment had arrived.
Everyone was distracted, preparing for the wedding. All the servants were decorating the great hall; the kitchen was teeming with people, preparing dishes. The guards weren’t at their usual sentinel point, looking out over the castle. At this hour, every night, they secured the castle perimeter.
She knew because she had been watching them. She also knew they took an ale every night; one of the servants would carry their cups on a tray, climbing the steep wooden steps to the tower. If her timing was right, the ales would be there now.
They were. With shaking hands, she carefully undid the vial, pouring half into one cup and the other into the second.
Only a few drops, the healer had said, would be enough to sleep the night through. Well, hopefully, there was enough in both cups of ale to make the guards sleep for two days.
She hid behind a barrel. They came back, eventually, winding their way up the steps. She watched them sip their ale, until all was gone.
She crept back up to her chamber. The clothes she needed had been carefully hidden, stolen from the clothes line a day before.
She changed quickly, pulling the breeches up. She had taken a man servant’s clothes. Hopefully she would pass for a male riding out of the castle if seen.
She looked at her wedding dress, fluttering in the breeze. Then she turned away from it, resolutely.
She wound her long golden hair up, securing it underneath the hat.
When she emerged, she found the two guards slumped against the wall - seemingly knocked out, but she had to move quickly. She really didn’t know how long the sleeping draught would last.
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