The Prophecy

by Sakwa, Kim

  “I’ll have Anna bring a tray and perhaps later you’ll have a hot bath to ease the aches you surely must feel. Isabelle will return shortly, and I will check on you later.”

  “Thank you, Lady Madelyn,” Gwendolyn said.

  “You’re quite welcome, dear.”

  As everyone shuffled from the room, Greylen took his mother’s instructions for Gwendolyn as well as giving a few of his own to Gavin. Alone again, he sat in the chair he’d brought from the sitting area by the fireplace last eve and watched her sleep. He amended his thoughts seconds later when she rolled onto her side to face him.

  “Greylen?”

  “Aye?”

  “I need your mother again, or Isabelle. Please.”

  He knew exactly what she needed but wasn’t about to let anyone back in his chamber yet. “Can you manage on your own, if I carry you?”

  “Yes.”

  He cradled her before him and carried her to the bathing chamber, leaving only when he was sure she could in fact stand on her own. He waited just beyond the door and when she stepped through, he took her hands and washed them with a cloth before tossing it in the basin. He wasn’t sure if her blush was from having to be carried to the garderobe for its use or the intimacy shared by his doing so.

  “This is becoming a habit, Greylen,” she grumbled sleepily, but her lips curved slightly in a smile.

  “’Tis only the beginning, Gwendolyn.”

  “You sound pretty sure of yourself.”

  “I am.”

  “That’s it?” she asked, giving his chest a poke. “I am,” she mimicked.

  “Aye,” he drawled, not expounding. He sensed her exhaustion and wished only to see her rest. He carried her back into his chamber and leaned down to place her beneath the covers.

  “No,” Gwendolyn pleaded, wrapping her arms around his neck. “I don’t want to go back to bed.” She must have noted his hesitation, because she hurried on. “Please, can’t I rest somewhere else?”

  Greylen answered, “Aye,” at her request and felt her tighten her arms around his neck as he stepped away from the bed. He carried her to the chair by the fireplace and sat with her there.

  “I didn’t mean on your lap,” she said, poking a finger against his chest.

  Greylen wrapped his hand around hers, stopping her actions. “Are you always this obstinate?”

  “No,” she offered with a sigh, laying her head on his shoulder.

  “Thank God,” he muttered.

  “I’m usually much worse,” she muttered back.

  Greylen shook his head, cursing under his breath. She was nothing like he’d expected. Yet as different as she was, Gwendolyn was perfect for him. She’d not be intimidated or fearful of his power. She had her own strength and he admired her for it. He still couldn’t believe she was here. He’d slept the night with her, and had she not been wounded, he would have made love to her.

  He could still feel her body as she pressed herself against him last night. Her hands as they brushed through his hair, and the way she’d tugged upon it demanding that he kiss her. She’d been so responsive when he did, it took all of his control to end it. Her tears still bothered him, though, but he’d question her later. For now, he had other matters he wished to have answers to.

  “How did you come to be in the water, Gwendolyn?” He felt her shudder and tightened his hold.

  “I lost control of my truck. The storm wiped out the road,” she whispered.

  The term was foreign to him. He had no idea its meaning. “And your injuries, how did you come by them?”

  “The airbags caused the burns on my face and the broken glass from the window caused my lacerations,” she explained. “Did you save me last night, Greylen?”

  “Aye,” he answered in a grave tone. ’Twas something he wished to forget.

  “Why didn’t you take me to the hospital?”

  “You’re at Seagrave Castle, Gwendolyn.”

  “I can’t stay here, Greylen. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, I really do, but I should go.”

  “You will stay here, Gwendolyn. I’d not allow you anywhere else.”

  “It’s not up to you.”

  “Aye, Gwendolyn, ’tis. You belong here.” She muttered a “ha” in response, as if the words were not to be believed. “Where would you go?” Had she someone? he wondered.

  “Back to the inn, or to a hospital or clinic, maybe,” she whispered.

  “Who would care for you?” he demanded, still not satisfied with his need to know and clearly unsettled by a feeling of uncertainty.

  “I can take care of myself. I’ve been doing it for years.”

  “Is there someone—?” He couldn’t finish. The possibility infuriated him now.

  “No.” She made a laugh-like sound. “But I need to call Sara.”

  He relaxed his hold as her explanation soothed him. “Who’s Sara?”

  “A friend. She’ll be worried, and I’m sure the couple who run the inn will wonder where I am. Will you dial the numbers for me?” she asked. “We’ll have to look up the number of the inn. Well, you’ll have to, but I can tell you Sara’s.”

  Greylen considered her words. In truth, he didn’t understand them. “You’ll give me the information. I’ll see to it myself.”

  Finally, he tucked her beneath the bedcovers and sat beside her as she fell asleep. ’Twas a long while later before he reluctantly left, parchment in hand.

  Gwen awoke to the soft sound of humming and the gentle touch of delicate fingers. She shifted to her side, smiling as the hand that stroked her forehead brushed back her hair.

  She couldn’t remember Greylen leaving, but he obviously had. He’d carried her back to bed and written down Sara’s phone number and the name of the inn. Then he sat next to her, leaning against the headboard.

  He’d reached for her hand, seemingly fascinated by it. Brushing his thumbs over her palm and stroking the back. He measured it against his before entwining their fingers.

  And he did it again and again. Brushing. Measuring. Entwining.

  She’d felt every touch from the top of her head to the tips of her toes.

  She could smell his scent all around her now, and if she were alone, she’d bury her face in the pillow to inhale every molecule. She had a feeling she hadn’t dreamed last night. She’d slept in his arms and awoke in them too.

  She should be terrified by it. But what terrified her wasn’t that she awoke in the bed of a strange man, but that waking with him had seemed so right.

  Be careful what you wish for, Gwendolyn.

  “Gwendolyn, ’tis Isabelle,” Greylen’s sister said softly.

  Gwen smiled. “Hi, Isabelle.”

  “Hi.” Isabelle laughed, mimicking her greeting. “How do you feel?”

  “Are we alone?”

  “Aye. Anna just left to fetch another tray. You slept through the first, and Greylen insisted we not wake you.”

  “Is your brother always so overbearing?”

  “’Tis his middle name.”

  Gwen laughed. “Somehow I’m not surprised.”

  “Oh, she’s awake,” Anna called as she came into the room. Gwen felt her place something on the bed and shoo Isabelle away to sit herself. “Now let’s see if you’ve become fevered,” she said, placing a hand on her forehead. “Cool to the touch, ’tis very good. Let’s get you comfortable and I’ll help you eat.”

  Anna began propping up the pillows, hugging Gwen against her plump chest. The gesture almost brought tears to her eyes. She’d never felt so cared for. “Anna, do you think I might sit in a chair instead?” Gwen asked. “I think I should move around so I don’t get stiff.”

  “Are you sure? You’ve had quite a fright.”

  “I’m sure. Isabelle, will you help me?” Gwen asked, reaching out.

&n
bsp; Isabelle took Gwen’s hands and helped her from the bed. “Please be careful, Gwendolyn. If Greylen knew you were out of bed, he’d have a fit.”

  “Then we just won’t tell him,” Gwen said mischievously.

  “Oh, Gwendolyn, I’m so glad you’re finally here.”

  Gwen stopped at her words. “What do you mean, I’m finally here?” Met with stone-cold silence, Gwen tried again, “Isabelle, what did you mean?”

  “We’ve been waiting for you,” Isabelle said quietly.

  Gwen didn’t miss the way she spoke. Confident in her statement but whispering as if she wished not to say it. “I don’t understand. How could you be waiting for me?”

  “I’ve said too much. Come, let’s get you settled.”

  Isabelle started leading her, but Gwen stopped her. “You’ve really said nothing. Now, I insist, tell me what you meant,” Gwen demanded.

  Isabelle remained silent a moment as if not sure where to begin, then it all poured out. “We knew you would come last night, Gwendolyn. Well, that’s not exactly true. I knew you would come,” she said with supreme confidence, “but Greylen suffered greatly throughout the day. He was sure he’d been fooled. Well, perhaps fooled isn’t the right word.” Gwen imagined Isabelle tapping a finger against her cheek. “Mayhap tricked—nay, not tricked—betrayed. Aye.” Gwen felt the motion as Isabelle held up her finger. “Betrayed. He all but killed most of the men, and his looks…good God, no one wanted to go near him. And no matter how many times I told Gavin the storm would come—” Isabelle stopped midsentence, making Gwen wonder if Anna’s mouth was agape like hers.

  “Greylen almost killed his men?” Gwen asked. “What men? Why?”

  “The soldiers, Gwendolyn,” Isabelle replied in a chastising tone. “Haven’t you been listening? They lined up and he beat each one, ’twas quite humiliating…for the soldiers, that is.”

  “He beat them?” Were her instincts misplaced? Greylen beat men? “How?” she asked.

  “With his sword, of course,” Isabelle returned in the same tone as if chastising her for not paying attention.

  “What?”

  “Oh my, now I’ve upset you. Please, Gwendolyn, we must sit down. You seem ready to collapse.” Isabelle rushed through the words as if she wanted to move on.

  “Isabelle!” Lady Madelyn came into the room obviously having overheard most of the conversation.

  Gwen heard the censure in Lady Madelyn’s voice and immediately took Isabelle’s hand. For some reason she felt the need to protect her. Gwen knew Isabelle hadn’t meant to upset her. Her honesty and need to please was obvious, endearing even. “Lady Madelyn, please don’t be upset with Isabelle. She didn’t do anything wrong.”

  Gwen couldn’t see Lady Madelyn’s expression soften, but she felt it in the words she spoke. “Gwendolyn, I wish only for your good health and welfare. That you come to Isabelle’s defense so quickly, well, it pleases me dearly. Especially with the tension being so thick these past few days, ’tis good to see all is, at last, as it should be.” Lady Madelyn held Gwen’s hands, leading her in front of a roaring fireplace and then guiding her to sit. She wondered if it was the same chair she sat in with Greylen last night.

  Lady Madelyn saw to her wounds while continuing where she left off. “We’ve waited so long for the events of last night to unfold, Gwendolyn. I’ve known for years of the prophecy, and I believed with all my heart in its words. I’d been unsure of Greylen’s acceptance when I decided to tell him of its existence.” She paused as if remembering. “But I made the right decision. If only I’d known how long he’d silently suffered. He’d actually considered himself mad.”

  Gwen was a little, or maybe a lot, lost with what Lady Madelyn was saying. Warmed by the fire, feeling cared for as Lady Madelyn continued to fuss over her, and of course still affected by painkillers, Gwen continued to listen in silence as Lady Madelyn went on. “I chided myself for my skepticism when I awoke yesterday. The day was as beautiful as a day could be, and Greylen’s anger that he’d been a fool was more than painful to watch. Isabelle was the only one who seemed sure that the storm would come.

  “Forgive my tone, Isabelle,” Lady Madelyn offered in apology. “Gwendolyn, I’ll check on you later. I did not realize you hadn’t eaten yet. Perhaps after you’ve rested again, we’ll call for a bath.”

  Gwen smiled, grateful that Lady Madelyn’s tone had changed. “Thank you, Lady Madelyn. I would love a bath, but I think I’ve rested enough.”

  “Anna will see that you drink a tea infusion. ’Twill tire you, and I insist you rest after your meal.”

  “May I ask you a question, Lady Madelyn?”

  “Of course.”

  “Greylen said you were a healer. Are doctors in the Highlands referred to as healers?”

  “Nay, we have doctors. But as long as you’re in my care, I’d not let them near you.”

  “Is that why Greylen didn’t take me to the hospital?” she asked. “Because you don’t trust the physicians here?”

  “I can assure you, you’ve received the very best care.”

  Gwen quickly agreed and thanked her as well. She could tell all of her abrasions were perfectly anointed and wrapped, and though somewhat numb from the medication she’d been given earlier, she knew instinctively she had stitches that were even and tight with no signs of swelling or drainage.

  True to Lady Madelyn’s words, Gwen was asleep a short time later.

  For the second time in less than a day, Greylen tread upon unsure waters. Quite simply, the woman disarmed him. One minute she’s threatening to kick his backside, the next she’s insulting herself—with an audience. She’d turned him upside down in a matter of hours. Especially her comments regarding her need to contact “Sara” and “the inn.”

  His reluctance to leave her surprised him as well. He, in fact, stayed longer than necessary, content merely to hold her hand. A hand he’d spent at least an hour embracing. ’Twas only when Anna came into his chamber that he’d finally stepped from the bed.

  Hoping for a distraction, a much-needed distraction, he went to check on Duncan. He’d been training a new group of soldiers who proved challenging. Their first charge with the boys who came to foster was to unlearn them of the skills they already possessed. The task usually took no more than a fortnight and allowed each a new perspective in applying their technique. Greylen and his men explained repeatedly that if they believed in their own abilities, their proficiencies would naturally follow. This balance enabled his soldiers to become the best fighters in the Highlands.

  As Greylen approached the training field, he noticed Duncan’s frustration and immediately stepped into the fray. The boys about bowed to him. ’Twas an honor to train with him personally and one not granted by all lairds. Greylen, however, would have it no other way. It gave him pride to watch his boys grow into their skills and manhood.

  Today, however, his attention was elsewhere. He took a blow from a sword, splitting the skin of his arm. The boy who dealt the injury instantly dropped to his knees, fear evident on his face. Greylen pulled the boy up and placed a firm hand on his shoulder, demanding that he meet his stare. “A lesson, Michael. Never lose your mental stand in a match—on our fields or in battle. Your life depends upon it.” Greylen turned to Duncan and dismissed himself. ’Twas time to seek his mother’s needle. She’d not be pleased.

  After a pointed look from Lady Madelyn and a regal sweep of her hand, Greylen sat in the chair his mother gestured to. She finished her work quickly and never once mentioned the reason to blame for the wound. “Good luck to you with the rest of your day, son,” she’d said. “I’ll be sure to keep my instruments handy should you need my services again.” Greylen offered a wry smile and thanks as well, then went to his study.

  He’d been consumed the past days, and now needed to address the correspondences atop his desk. Most were letters updating occurre
nces among neighboring clans. They would become the agenda to be discussed at the upcoming council meeting.

  The council, comprised of twelve lairds, convened four times yearly. After years of feuding during his father’s reign, Greylen and his peers did their best to live peacefully. Their only fighting now proved to be little more than minor skirmishes or warring at the behest of their sovereign.

  Greylen served his king and helped to bring an end to the internal strife which plagued their homeland. Now only a few caused troubles—those spiteful or hungry for power.

  One clan in particular was the MacFale. ’Twasn’t the father who made trouble but his son Malcolm. Their lands bordered to the south and any disturbances of late, Greylen knew Malcolm had caused. Though he’d not seen him in years, Malcolm’s jealousy of Greylen’s continued success fueled his hatred.

  Greylen began listing the grievances to be addressed but looked to the door when he sensed Gavin’s approach. Greylen bid him entrance and waved to one of the chairs in front of his desk. He tossed him the parchment he’d had in his pocket and gauged his reaction.

  Gavin studied it, then looked back in question. “What is it?”

  “Numbers Gwendolyn wished for me…to call. The first is her friend, Sara. The latter, the name of the inn where she was staying.”

  Gavin shook his head. “I’ve no idea her meaning, Greylen, nor does this name sound familiar.”

  “Nor do I.” He took the parchment back, staring at the strange sequence of numbers. “She…damn it, Gavin.” Greylen stood and walked to the window behind his desk, staring past the garden. “The things she’s said…the way she speaks.”

  “Explain, we’ll sort it through.”

  Greylen gave a wry laugh before turning. “Aye, thank you, Mother.”

  “Have you a better idea?”

  “Nay.” Greylen sat again and repeated Gwendolyn’s account of what happened to Gavin. The truck accident, the explosion of airbags, and windows with jagged glass. He spoke of her English dialect. Though easy enough to understand, ’twas far different from the one he’d heard. More to the point, the way that she spoke was strange. With authority. Forthright, to be exact.