The Prophecy

by Sakwa, Kim

  Her words came easily then. “Okay, so this is the way I see it. Somehow, I’m here. I don’t know how it happened, but if what Greylen and Gavin said is true, I think I know why.” Gwen paused, frowning at what had escaped her until now. “Please take care of Sara and Mr. MacGreggor. I know she’ll assume I drowned in the accident, but she was all I had left.” Oh, Sara. A tear slipped down her cheek. Would she ever see her again? She was suddenly hit with another revelation—Mr. MacGreggor. She’d found him outside her apartment five years earlier and had taken him in without hesitation. Oddly, she hadn’t had him more than a day before she started calling him by that name.

  It took Gwen a minute to continue. And when she did the words came from so deep within, even she was surprised to hear them voiced. “Please let me stay here. It’s the most enchanting place I’ve ever seen, and I love the people already. I’ve been so good for so long, and I’ve worked hard my entire life. I don’t want to go home. I want to stay. Please keep Greylen safe. Bring him home to me.” She quietly whispered amen and wiped her tears as she stood. Gavin was standing in the doorway.

  He looked at her so solemnly. “I meant not to intrude. ’Twas concern which brought me within, when you’d not come back out.” He walked to where she stood and knelt before her. “Forgive me, Lady Gwendolyn. I overstepped my bounds. I’ll relieve myself of your watch immediately.”

  “No, you won’t. You’re Greylen’s best friend. You should know the truth.”

  He seemed astounded at her graciousness and took her hands in his own. “He will return,” he implored. “You must believe me. The prophecy’s come true. This is where you’re meant to be. This is your home now, Lady Gwendolyn.”

  Gavin continued to remain by Gwen’s side. He, in fact, refused to be relieved until morning, much to the surprise of Greylen’s men, whom she’d met that afternoon. His loyalty to her meant more than he’d ever know.

  They dined that night with Lady Madelyn, Isabelle, and Duncan. They spoke of things clearly insignificant, obviously avoiding any subjects that might cause her unease.

  Afterward, they sat by the fire while Isabelle played the piano—the harpsichord—in the corner. The music was haunting, and Gwen watched as Gavin repeatedly stole looks at Greylen’s sister. He seemed so taken with her, and Gwen sensed that his feelings ran very deep.

  Anna came in later and asked Gwen to accompany her upstairs. She had a bath waiting by the fire and washed Gwen’s hair before helping her dress. Gwen smiled sadly as Anna held open another of Greylen’s shirts. Then she led her to the hearth and brushed her hair. Anna asked if she’d like her to stay, but Gwen declined. As soon as she left, Gwen walked to the nightstand to look for the letter she’d placed there earlier. She couldn’t find it and instinctively opened the top drawer. Someone had placed her letter inside.

  When she picked it up, she saw a wooden medallion attached to a thick leather cord. She snatched it immediately and sat on the bed. The dark polished wood had a design etched on its face. A dragon—fierce and beautiful at the same time. She turned it over and saw Greylen’s initials. Gwen walked to the door to ask Gavin about it. He stood just outside and smiled when he saw her.

  “Nice bedgown, lady,” he remarked dryly.

  “Shut up, Gavin.” She laughed, taken by the sparkle in his eyes. “Could you tell me about this, please?” she asked, holding the medallion before him.

  He took it in his hand, fingering the etched design. “Greylen’s father made it for him years ago,” he explained. “The dragon is his crest, lady, for he slays all that comes before him.”

  Gwen rolled her eyes. “That’s very comforting, Gavin,” she replied sarcastically. He turned her around and tied it behind her neck. She took a deep breath, strangely calmed by wearing it, then regarded Gavin once again. “Come back inside, Gavin. I’ll not have you stand for the rest of the night,” she ordered, pointing toward the door.

  He had come in and took a seat by the fireplace, affording her a modicum of privacy. She had walked to the window, catching her breath at the sky alight with more stars than she’d ever seen.

  She stroked the medallion as she held the letter, staring at the sea beyond the cliffs. She forgot to wipe the tears from her eyes before she turned to say good night and get into bed. Thankfully, Gavin made no mention of it. He quietly said good night as she curled beneath the covers.

  When Gwen awoke it was still dark. She knew it had to be somewhere between four and five in the morning, and she groaned as she stretched the aches from her body. She rolled over and hugged the pillow. The room was cast in shadows from the fire, and she could see Gavin’s profile where he sat by the hearth. She felt safe with him and was glad that he’d stayed last night. Not that she’d left him a choice.

  She was about to call out to him when she heard the door open. She smiled as Isabelle crept toward the bed. Candle in hand, Isabelle returned her smile and practically beamed when Gwen pulled back the covers and patted the mattress.

  “Good morn, Gwendolyn,” Isabelle whispered softly after she lay down next to her.

  “Good morn, Isabelle,” Gwen mimicked.

  Isabelle laughed. “I’m so glad you’re awake.”

  “Me too. I missed you yesterday.”

  “I saw you many times yesterday, Gwendolyn,” Isabelle corrected.

  “I know, but we didn’t have any time alone.”

  “I suppose you’re right,” she agreed. “How did you lose your guard, Gwendolyn? The only time there’s not been one posted was the night before last.”

  Gwen was about to tell her she was wrong, but curiosity got the best of her. “Why didn’t I have a guard the second night if I did on the first?” she asked.

  “Greylen was with you, Gwendolyn. You need no guard when he’s about.”

  “But wasn’t he with me the first night?” Gwen was under the impression they’d slept together that night. He’d told her so.

  “Aye, he was, but Mother added a sleeping potion to his wine that night. Even my brother sought the guard of his own men knowing his abilities had been jeopardized.”

  “So normally he wouldn’t seek the guard of his men?”

  “Nay, he’d not. My brother could hear a pin drop on the other side of the castle, mayhap as far as Edinburgh.”

  “His senses can’t be that heightened, Isabelle,” Gwen said, rolling her eyes.

  “Aye, but they truly are,” Isabelle argued. “Greylen’s abilities are known throughout the land, Gwendolyn. He’s our king’s most skilled champion. ’Tis whispered he’s the fiercest warrior in the realm.”

  Gwen hoped she was exaggerating. “Are you sure you’re not confusing him with someone else?” Gwen asked. Isabelle only shook her head, her eyes were wide, and she was looking at Gwen like she were crazy. “Are you ever frightened for him, Isabelle?”

  “Nay.” Isabelle scoffed. “’Twould be a grave insult, Gwendolyn. He’s invincible.”

  Gwen couldn’t believe the way Isabelle spoke. It wasn’t the conviction in her voice that bothered her. It was the complacency she heard, like Isabelle was bored with a topic that had worn out its welcome. But if all that had happened were true, Gwen knew, Greylen’s life was on the line every day. The thought was terrifying.

  “How did you lose your handsome guard?” Isabelle asked. “You never told me.”

  “I di—” She tried to finish, but Isabelle interrupted her.

  “He’s wonderful, isn’t he?” she said wistfully, then quickly changed her mind. “Nay—he’s the most insufferable, perplexing man ever,” she rushed with a frustrated laugh. “No matter how I try, he treats me always as his laird’s…” Isabelle’s expression changed as if she’d never spoken of it aloud. The revelation must have come as a hard blow because her barely whispered words were filled with hurt when she continued. “Gwendolyn…he no longer treats me as such. In company he’s respectful,
but when alone, ’tis more…like I’m a bother. I always thought—oh, Gwendolyn, I should have seen it soon—”

  “Good morn, Isabelle,” Gavin called from the chair by the fire. His tone was curt.

  Isabelle went rigid at Gavin’s words. Her anguish was clear only to Gwen as she continued to face her. “Good morn, Gavin,” she returned quietly.

  Gwen couldn’t help but be impressed. The way Isabelle held herself together was amazing. “I’m sorry, Isabelle,” Gwen whispered. “I tried to tell you sooner, but you wouldn’t let me finish.” Gwen felt awful now that she hadn’t stopped her, but she’d been so surprised by what Isabelle was saying. She had assumed that Gavin returned Isabelle’s feelings. Was she the only one who saw it? Was she wrong?

  Isabelle finally sat up and looked toward Gavin. “Gavin, did you show Gwendolyn the study or library yet?” she asked.

  “Nay, think you she’d like to see them?”

  “Of course she would,” Isabelle said quietly, stepping from the bed.

  Gwen shot Gavin a nasty look and mouthed “be nice,” pointing her finger in accusation while Isabelle fussed with the bedcovers. Then, as if the exchange with Gavin hadn’t taken place, Gwen asked, “What are you two talking about?”

  Gavin stood and walked to them. “Come, we’ll show you,” he offered.

  “I’ll get something for you to cover yourself with, Gwendolyn, ’tis too early to dress.”

  As Isabelle walked to the bathroom, Gwen watched Gavin stare at her. She wore a beautiful white satin nightgown and matching robe tied low around her neck.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Gwen hissed.

  Gavin’s head snapped in her direction. “Pardon?”

  “Don’t act stupid, Gavin. If you hurt her, I swear—”

  “I’d sooner die than hurt her.”

  “You’re a little late, Gavin, you already have.”

  Their conversation came to an abrupt halt as Isabelle returned carrying Greylen’s robe. Gwen noticed it in the bathroom yesterday and was happy that Isabelle had chosen it for her now. She slipped it on and stopped herself just before she brought the material to her face. She was about to inhale his scent. Grateful she’d saved herself in time, she covered her heated face by tying the belt around her waist. She waved her hand at the slippers Isabelle held out. “I’ll go barefoot,” she insisted.

  Isabelle looked to Gavin. “Gwendolyn mustn’t go barefoot throughout the keep, ’tis highly improper.”

  Gavin threw his hands in the air. “She wears Greylen’s shirt and covered herself in his robe. Whatever,” he replied, apparently happy to throw the term back at Gwen.

  Isabelle took Gwen’s hand and led her downstairs. They turned and walked past the archway that opened to the great hall. Narrow tables were situated along the hallway walls and sconces flickered, casting a soft glow. Isabelle stopped at the first set of doors they came to. Gavin leaned against the far side of the doorframe, facing Gwen as Isabelle turned to her. “This is my brother’s private study, Gwendolyn. The war room, as I call it.”

  Isabelle’s eyes lit up as she said it, and Gwen grabbed her cheeks to kiss her. “You’re delightful, Isabelle.” Gwen noticed that Gavin smiled at her words. Obviously, Mr. Mixed Signals agreed.

  “Come, let’s go inside.” Isabelle pushed the doors, but they wouldn’t budge. “Gavin?” Isabelle placed her hands on her hips and tapped her foot impatiently.

  He smiled and reached into his pocket removing a key. “Allow me, ladies.” He unlocked the doors and pushed them aside. “Wait a moment while I light the wicks.”

  Gwen stood in the doorway as Gavin brought the room to life. Her chest tightened as each lamp was lit, her heart pounding as she stared at a room that had to be the perfect reflection of Greylen. She could picture him working within. Worse, she could imagine herself sitting inside while he did.

  Gavin finished and stood to the side, but Gwen seemed rooted to the floor. Isabelle finally grabbed her hand and pulled her in.

  From where she stood inside the doorway, a large mahogany desk sat directly in front of her. A high-back leather chair behind it, and two in front. Behind the desk were polished wood shelves filled with leather-bound books and window seats built within each side.

  Narrow tables sat on either side of the doors with oil lamps, ashtrays, and knickknacks. To her right was a large round table with seven chairs and to her left was a sitting area with a settee, as well as more chairs and tables. The stone floor was covered with an expensive silk rug, its pattern woven with dark threads, which were highlighted with gold. The walls were paneled in the same rich-colored wood as the desk, but they were covered from floor to ceiling with framed maps. The ones to her right were filled with tacks and markers. The ceiling was paneled as well.

  Gwen brushed her hands over everything as she walked slowly through the room. She didn’t miss a single item. When she stopped behind his desk, she looked at Gavin. He nodded, and she sat in Greylen’s chair. She ran her hands over the desk and the items on top. There was a large burgundy blotter and matching trays filled with parchment and scrolls of paper. A quill and ink cup lay in the center, and brass tools scattered all around. There was a compass and something that she knew measured distance on a map, and a magnifying glass as well. The desk had three drawers, each of them with brass handles and a lock.

  “Would you like the key, lady?” Gavin questioned.

  “Nay.” She shook her head. The word came so easily, and she saw Isabelle and Gavin smile at each other. “I meant no, Gavin. It’s all right.”

  “Come, Gwendolyn, you must see the library,” Isabelle exclaimed, clapping her hands.

  “’Tis even better.”

  Gwen had no idea how they could top this room, but Isabelle’s excitement was contagious. They waited just outside the doors as Gavin extinguished the lamps. And sadly, Gwen felt a loss that she had to leave.

  “You may return anytime you wish, Lady Gwendolyn,” Gavin told her, sensing her reluctance. “You need only ask. Isabelle, however, is correct. You’ll be more pleased with the library.”

  They walked farther down the hallway and stopped at the room next to the study. Isabelle swatted Gavin’s arm impatiently. “Go and light the wicks already. Hurry,” she demanded.

  He turned to look at them. “Remain here until I’ve finished.”

  It was an order, and Gwen wondered why he felt the need to be so stern. She was further surprised when he closed the doors behind him. A few minutes later Gavin came out, leaving the doors slightly ajar. “You may go in now, lady.”

  Gwen turned as she entered the room. The doors closed behind her. They left her alone. When she turned again, she was completely unprepared. Her hands came to her face and the air rushed from her lungs. Her eyes suddenly filled with tears and she stood there, staring at the incredible image in front of her. It was a portrait. The room was filled with them.

  In a trance, she walked across the room, stopping in front of the massive likeness of Greylen, Isabelle, and their parents.

  It must have been painted years ago. Isabelle appeared to be a child of no more than eight, and they were posed in front of the fireplace in this very room. The portrait was surrounded with a thick gold frame that sat atop the mantel. It was so large it had to be life-size.

  Lady Madelyn was seated in a high-backed chair. She wore a deep-purple dress and her hair was swept back atop her head. Her hands held little Isabelle in front of her, who was dressed in a plaid skirt and white shirt with soft ruffles at the neck and wrists. Her shoulder-length hair curled sassily at the ends. Greylen’s father stood to Lady Madelyn’s left, a sword hanging from his waist. He wore a white linen shirt, black breeches, and tall polished boots. He looked so proud, and Gwen couldn’t help but wonder what had become of him.

  Greylen stood to his mother’s right. He was so handsome. Just what she pictured when
she had touched him. But there were no traces of the lines that she knew to be on his face now. This was the picture of a young man just discovering the world. She saw it in his features, in the twinkle in his eyes, and his wide genuine smile. His skin was bronzed from the sun and his eyes were so dark she wondered if they were truly black as the painting suggested.

  He was dressed the same as his father but seemed much more carefree. His shirt was open at the neck and the sleeves had been rolled up, revealing his forearms. He held the hilt of his sword in his left hand, its point next to his boot. If this likeness were true, he had to stand well over six and a half feet tall. He was built just as she imagined. His shoulders were broad and his body long and powerful. And though she couldn’t see the muscles through his shirt, she knew their form personally.

  She sat in front of the fireplace, smiling offhandedly that Gavin lit it for her. She had no idea how long she remained on the floor staring at the painting, but for the first time in her entire life, she knew that this was where she truly belonged. She didn’t want to be anywhere else. Ever.

  After a while, she walked along the edge of the room. The wood floor was stained with a soft color, but the most beautiful feature was the intricate pattern the craftsman had designed around the rug that lay in its center. The colors in this room were softer, too, whites and beiges with subtle splashes of gold, burgundy, and blue in the pillows and drapes. There were bookshelves and paintings everywhere, and she looked at all of them. The more she saw of this family and their home, the more she wanted to be a part of it.

  Strangely, she felt she already was.

  Gwen began extinguishing the lamps at the far end of the room as she made her way toward the door. She checked the fire and placed the screen in front of it, though it was low enough now that it wouldn’t cause any danger unattended. As she opened the door, she looked back once more at the portrait above the fireplace. She stepped from the room, a sad smile on her lips as she looked to Isabelle and Gavin. They wore their own sad looks, and she wondered why.