The Prophecy

by Sakwa, Kim

  “’Tis a good name, Gwen. On the morrow, however ’twill be no more. Father Michael will join us. And you will truly be mine.”

  “Greylen?”

  “Aye, Gwen.”

  “Do you promise?” She hadn’t meant it to come out as a plea. And regretted the words the moment she’d breathed them.

  “Ah, Gwen.” He sighed, gathering her closer. “I solemnly promise to wed you on the morrow. And I vow to make you so completely mine you’ll not lose your glow for days. And I never break my word.”

  Gwen felt a slow, lazy smile cross her lips, she knew exactly what he implied. She laid her head against his chest and ran her fingers down his arm when she felt something wet around his biceps.

  “Greylen, what’s this?” she asked.

  “I suffered a wound.”

  “You suffered a wound?” she repeated. “What in the hell does that mean?”

  She sensed him smiling at her words.

  “I don’t stutter, love, nor do I speak in riddles. And good God your mouth’s atrocious.”

  “Whatever, Greylen,” Gwen said dismissively. “I swear the drugs your mother’s been giving me have affected my judgment.”

  “Aye, Lady Madelyn can be quite high-handed where her potions are concerned,” he quickly agreed. Then as if another thought crossed his mind, “Think you that’s the problem?” He sounded like he was relieved by the possibility.

  “What problem?”

  “Your mouth?”

  “If it helps you sleep at night, then yes, I’m sure that’s the problem. Now, will you get the supplies Anna’s been using for me? This needs to be re-dressed.”

  “You’re serious?”

  “I don’t stutter, Greylen, nor do I speak in riddles,” she mimicked.

  Greylen sighed as he stepped from the bed. Gwen was standing when he returned. “Get back in bed, Gwen, I’ll change the dressing myself.”

  Gwen crossed her arms over her chest and started tapping her foot. “I’ll re-dress your wound, Greylen. I need to make sure it hasn’t swelled. Tell me how it happened.”

  “A simple accident,” was all he said.

  “Sit, Greylen. Now,” Gwen ordered when he didn’t move.

  Once he settled, Gwen worked expertly with covered eyes. She found the edge of the gauze and unwound it, then carefully brushed her finger over the surface of his skin. She mentally counted each of his twelve stitches, then tested the skin for swelling before reaching for fresh gauze and the jar of ointment. In seconds, she had his arm wrapped again.

  “Are you in pain?” Gwen asked. “I know how to get my hands on some pretty good potion as you call it, and I’m willing to share,” she teased with another grin.

  “The only pain I have will be fixed on the morrow,” he promised, grabbing her quickly around the waist and pulling her back on the bed. She shrieked in surprise and laughed as she snuggled against him.

  “Greylen?”

  “Aye, Gwen?”

  “If this is a dream, don’t wake me. It’s the best one I’ve ever had.”

  He spooned her body, then wrapped his leg over her. “’Tis no dream, Gwen,” he promised, “just a matter of time, love. Just a matter of time.”

  Greylen had just fallen asleep when he heard footsteps outside his chamber door. He knew he’d not like the information his first-in-command found necessary to disturb him with.

  “What troubles have you?” Greylen demanded.

  “The king’s men wait in the great hall.”

  Gavin’s voice was grave, so Greylen knew he’d not be pleased with the news. “Their purpose?” he asked. At his hesitation, Greylen pressed harder. “Out with it.”

  “There was an attempt on our sovereign’s life. The offender’s to be tried two days hence.”

  Their king had taken the habit of not judging for high treason unless his barons were present. Greylen, being one, was honor bound to appear.

  “They came by ship?” Greylen asked, knowing already ’twas the only way they’d arrive in time.

  “Aye. You’re to leave within the hour,” Gavin told him gravely as if anticipating what was to come.

  “Fetch the priest, Gavin. I’ll be wed before I go.” Greylen felt his stomach turn when Gavin didn’t move. “I said fetch the priest. I promised to marry Gwendolyn on the morrow and I’ll not leave until I do.”

  “’Tis not possible,” Gavin stated, his expression sickened.

  “Explain,” Greylen ground out slowly through his teeth. “Your life depends on the answer.” And right now, Greylen meant every word.

  “Father Michael was called to administer last rites. He knew to be back by dawn, and Duncan and Kevin went with him to ensure he’d not be delayed. ’Tis three hours before dawn, the king’s men leave within the hour.”

  Greylen felt as if he just received a fatal blow. He rubbed his hands against his head, noxious pressure threatening to overpower him.

  “How close are our ships?” ’Twas his only hope now.

  “They’re still in port.”

  “Nay!” He grabbed Gavin’s shoulders, shaking him as if the action could somehow change the facts. “They’re to be on their way.”

  “There was a discrepancy with the shipment,” Gavin explained. “Word came yesterday.”

  Greylen swore under his breath and went to his bed. Never more dreadful of a task, he tried to wake Gwen. “Gwen…Gwen, wake up, love,” he murmured with a gentle touch. She didn’t respond and he tried again. “Gwendolyn,” he bid with more force. ’Twas no use, she was out cold.

  But he told her all the same. “Gwen, I must leave. The king’s men wait, love. I’m called to court. I will marry you just as soon as I return. The moment I come home, I—” His words fell short as he dared not promise her again. But he did kiss her. He poured his entire soul into that one kiss.

  Reluctantly, he went to his wardrobe and gathered what he needed for his journey. Once dressed, Greylen placed his sword in its scabbard and slipped his dagger into his boot. He stood at the bedside and gave Gavin his orders.

  “You’ll stay behind. I’ll trust no one but you to see that Gwendolyn’s kept safe.”

  “You’ve my word, Greylen.”

  “Ian and Connell?” he asked.

  “Below stairs, ready to accompany you.”

  “I’ll seek Lady Madelyn and the privacy of my study. You’ll find a letter for Gwendolyn atop my desk. See it to her the moment she awakens.”

  Moments later, Greylen left. Each step he took was harder than the last. His only thoughts were that he’d broken his word. He failed her.

  She would hate him come morning.

  It wasn’t a dream.

  No matter how many times she tried to think differently, the reality was the same. She was not dreaming.

  She wasn’t lying in an unconscious state hooked up to an IV. She wasn’t hallucinating. Nor was she insane. At the moment, she was just tired and truly beyond thought.

  She stood before the window in Greylen’s chamber, able to do little more than stare as the sun made its descent. Silent tears streamed down her face, and the soft rustle of parchment whispered in the air. In one hand she held the letter Greylen had written the night before. The other fingered a wooden medallion Gavin had placed around her neck only moments ago.

  It meant more to her than anything she had ever had.

  Strange how in just a little over twelve hours, it was the link to her future that now gave her courage. Not her bracelet, which was the only link to her past.

  So many things were clear, now that she could see.

  And though the scenery of northern Scotland and the sea that surrounded it looked no different, she knew “she wasn’t in Kansas anymore.”

  When she had awoken that morning, she had sensed something was wrong and had known instincti
vely that Greylen wasn’t there. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise. It seemed to be the only way she awoke at Seagrave. She decided, however, that if she awoke to that feeling one more time, she’d kill someone. And after today’s revelations, Greylen was at the top of her list. That is if he didn’t get himself killed first.

  But at the time, she’d only thought that she’d been a fool. She’d believed him last night, when she’d never trusted anyone. The conviction in his voice, the way that he touched her—she truly believed him. No matter how crazy what he had told her seemed to be, he made her believe. Then he held her as they fell asleep. And she knew there wasn’t anywhere she’d rather be.

  Greylen and his family had awoken emotions in her, emotions she’d never felt before.

  She had felt someone sit next to her on the bed. “Good morning, Gwendolyn.” It was Lady Madelyn. “I’m going to remove the bandages now,” she had said softly.

  Gwen remained silent. There was only one question she wanted to ask. And she already knew the answer. Greylen wasn’t there. Her hand kept moving across the sheets where he’d lain last night. They were cold. He hadn’t been next to her for hours.

  Lady Madelyn placed a warm cloth over her eyes after the bandages were removed and instructed her to lean back. Gwen gladly complied. She wasn’t ready to open her eyes. Truthfully, she was scared. She finally pulled the cloth away, and for the first time saw Lady Madelyn, Anna, Isabelle, and Gavin.

  They were pretty hard to miss. They were all staring at her from different positions around the bed. Each wore a cautious smile, but Gavin addressed her first. He came forward and knelt by her side. “Good morn, Lady Gwendolyn,” he said in a gentle voice, which seemed rather odd. The man had to be close to Greylen in size.

  Gwen could tell he was uncomfortable. And for a reason she couldn’t explain, she couldn’t allow him to feel that way. So she did what she did best. She put on a brave face and spared his feelings at the expense of her own. “I’m a big girl, Gavin,” she assured. “Out with it.”

  Gavin smiled at her words, though she wasn’t sure why.

  “Our laird was called away last night,” he said.

  “Of course he was, Gavin.” Gwen braced herself for whatever he might tell her, managing a fake smile.

  That he tried to offer comfort with his explanation was clearly evident. “The king’s men arrived in the early-morning hours. Greylen had no choice but to go with them. He tried to wake you, but you were unresponsive.”

  “I’ve been adding powders to your tea, Gwendolyn,” Lady Madelyn interrupted. “They cause deep slumber.”

  Gwen nodded, aware of the effects of what she’d been taking. She looked back to Gavin.

  “Greylen told me of his promise,” Gavin continued. “He demanded that I fetch Father Michael. But he’d been called away not to return until dawn to perform the ceremony joining you to Greylen.”

  “He was really going to marry me?” Gwen asked. It was easy to believe him last night. But now, everything seemed different.

  Gavin’s smile turned arrogant. “Aye, my lady, ’twas always the plan. Our laird would never make a promise he’d not intended to keep, especially to you.”

  “Well, it seems your laird, as you call him, has only done what I’ve come to expect from people over the years. I’d like to return to the inn now. Will you take me once I’ve dressed?”

  He looked insulted by her suggestion. “Lady Gwendolyn, you cannot leave. ’Twould mean my head.”

  “I’m sure you’re exaggerating, Gavin.” Gwen looked to Greylen’s mother. “Lady Madelyn, could you please explain to—” Gavin’s title escaped her. “To your son’s whatever he is, that it’s not appropriate for me to stay any longer?”

  Lady Madelyn came back to the bed. She was so beautiful, regal actually. Her auburn hair was swept back and secured with jeweled combs. Oddly, she wore the most incredible long dress. It was the deepest shade of blue with bell sleeves that fell open to the sides. She looked straight into Gwen’s eyes. Speaking in a gentle but serious tone, she said, “I’m so very sorry, Gwendolyn, but what Gavin’s told you is the truth. You cannot leave.”

  Gwen didn’t want to argue with her. But in true Gwen fashion, she did. “Why not?”

  “Not only is there nowhere for you to go, but you belong to my son now. The formality of your marriage is just that, a formality, my dear.”

  There it was again, her fictitious marriage that was just a formality. Maybe she was pregnant too. Oh yeah, they never had sex—and she wasn’t married! “Lady Madelyn, as much as I’d love to stay, I can’t. Spare me whatever dignity I have left.” Which at the moment, Gwen thought, wasn’t much.

  “Gwendolyn, if Greylen’s men let you go anywhere, he’ll kill them without hesitation. You must believe me,” she warned.

  “Isn’t that a little dramatic?” Gwen asked. “I know he saved my life, and you’ve shown me nothing but kindness, but you can’t think to keep me here.” Were they insane?

  “Why don’t you dress and come below stairs. Anna will help you,” Lady Madelyn offered. Then she stood, obviously done with the conversation.

  She’d been dismissed!

  “That isn’t necessary.” Gwen’s voice caught. She was close to tears and needed desperately to be alone.

  “Gwendolyn.” Isabelle looked upset as well.

  Gwen pushed her own feelings aside. At the moment, Isabelle’s took precedent. The day she’d spent with her was one of the best she could remember.

  Gwen stepped from the bed—and fell into Gavin’s arms. My God the bed had to be three feet off the floor. Feeling like a complete idiot, which wasn’t a stretch right now, Gwen murmured a thank-you. She held out her hands and smiled at Isabelle. She was absolutely stunning. Graceful beauty at its finest. She had a willowy frame and a face that matched. Long and delicate with the most stunning blue eyes and long blond hair.

  “Please don’t worry,” Gwen told her, mortified that her voice cracked.

  “Gwendolyn, you mustn’t leave,” Isabelle whispered. “Please. Greylen will return soon.”

  “I can’t stay, Isabelle,” Gwen whispered, shaking her head. Her heart constricted as she realized the dream she’d embraced for only the shortest of time was now shattered. The one in which she had a family to care about. A family who cared about her.

  Isabelle and Lady Madelyn left the chamber and then Gavin addressed her again. “Lady Gwendolyn?”

  Gwen gave him her full attention now. She couldn’t help it. The man was handsome. Well over six feet tall, with thick, dark hair cut just below his ears. He wore a beige linen shirt tucked into black trousers and tall black leather boots polished to a high shine. And he had penetrating blue eyes. A second later, Gwen shook her head. “Is that a sword, Gavin?” Why in the hell did he have a sword strapped to his back?

  “Aye, my lady,” he answered. “I’m never without it.”

  “Why in God’s name would you carry a sword?” Gwen asked, completely stupefied. Though she had to admit, she enjoyed the slight irritation her question caused.

  “For protection, Lady Gwendolyn. My duty is to see you’re unharmed. How else am I to accomplish this?”

  Gwen gave him her best were-you-born-on-another-planet look. “Don’t you believe in using your words, Gavin?” she asked and then laughed at his expression.

  Oh yeah, he was fun to irritate. She liked him.

  Gavin ignored her question. “I’ve a letter from Greylen, Lady Gwendolyn. He bid me to see you had it the moment you awoke this morn,” he explained, holding it out to her.

  Gwen gasped, grabbing the letter from his outstretched hand. “Thank you, Gavin. And please stay close by. I might get a paper cut and you can stab the offending paper for me.” She scrunched one eye, giving him her best perturbed look before turning to Anna. “Anna, could you show me to the bathroom, please? I can’t
seem to remember which direction we went yesterday.”

  “’Tis the door across the chamber, my lady,” she said, motioning with her hand. “May I help?”

  Gwen politely declined, then walked to the far end of Greylen’s chamber. She was not only shocked by the enormity of the room but taken with it as well.

  The appointments were unlike any she’d ever seen. All of the furnishings were made from dark polished wood and the oversize chairs were covered with a rich, dark tapestry. There was a sitting area in front of the window and two stately armoires situated along the far wall. They stood on either side of the bathroom door, a door with ornate brass fittings that had been made from the same wood as the trim.

  She had to push it with both hands before it finally gave, and she stepped inside, grateful to be alone. She leaned against the frame, sank to the floor, and cried. Despair so deep it stunned her.

  It took a good five minutes before her control returned. She remained on the floor, looking at the letter in her hand. It was written on a deep-colored parchment. The initials “gMa” were pressed into the burgundy wax seal. It was a beautiful monogram, and Gwen felt tears again as she ran her fingers over the letters. Call her a fool, but she couldn’t help wondering what Greylen’s middle name was.

  She was scared to open it, so she didn’t. Instead, she held it to her heart and looked around the room. It was quite large and furnished as handsomely as his bedroom. An alcove was to her right, where a large chair and table had been placed in front of a small window. To her left was a chest of drawers with thick towels, a porcelain basin, and dark valet on top. Another chest was in front of her, but this one had two basins with a towel stand between them and a large framed mirror above. The door next to it, she supposed, led to a private toilet room.

  An oriental rug covered most of the floor. She noticed the richness of its pattern and felt the expensive silk threads beneath her feet. The walls were constructed from large pale stones finished with dark trim. And tapestries hung from brass rods, covering the walls with their warmth. The room was magnificent.

  Done being a coward, Gwen moved to the chair in the alcove. She pressed her face against a plaid that hung over the back. It was Greylen’s scent. She hugged it in front of her and carefully broke the seal to the parchment. Tears again. His writing was beautiful, the letters perfect. And she smiled at the ink smeared in spots from left to right. He was a lefty.