The two men turned around, pulling out their weapons, and the attack stopped before it started. The victims called for a magistrate, but it was late at night, and no one came to their assistance. They gave chase for a short time, but Henry and Ewan were faster.
Thorn ignored the tumult and headed to the closest inn. He had to know if his sire was alive.
***
Claray followed Dyna inside the cave. “How did you know to find this place, Dyna?”
“This is my favorite cave. Thorn knows of it, too. ’Tis the Grant cave. We always spend a night here when we head to Cameron land. ’Tis well-hidden and deep, with a bend that protects us from the wind. I’ve been able to take three horses inside before. ’Tis perfect.”
“How long will we have to stay here?” Claray hoped it wouldn’t be long. She envisioned many spider webs in the back of such a deep cave.
“One night, and we’ll get up early. We have to leave before dawn if we wish to beat the storm. Derric and I know this area well enough to travel for an hour before the sun comes up.”
“How much longer before we reach Cameron land?”
“One more day. We’ll probably arrive near dusk. It also depends on when the snow starts and how fast it falls,” Dyna said.
“And the wind,” Derric added. “That always slows the horses down. I’ll settle the animals and send the guards for dry wood. We’ve enough meat pies for this eve. Best time of the year to travel. Only time of year ’tis possible. They’ll be delicious with a bit of warming over the fire.” He winked at his wife, kissed her cheek, and led the horses to a spot around the side of the cave.
“Why did he say that?”
“Because meat spoils if ’tis not kept cold. This weather keeps everything cold. You just have to keep it away from body heat until you eat it.”
“I have a fur in my sack and a plaid. I hope I’ll be warm enough.” She stepped inside the cave and sighed. “Just stopping the wind helps, does it not?”
“Aye, it does. The guards will start the fire. We’ll sleep in the back section, and the guards will sleep out here. Still protected, but they’ll ensure no one enters. Come, we’ll see if there’s any sign of recent visitors. Mayhap Thorn was here.” She led Claray into the back and glanced around before shaking her head, knocking down any suspicious cobwebs. “Nay, nothing. Derric and I will huddle together and you can sleep on the other side of me. You’ll still get some of his heat. He puts off more of it than the fire we will make.”
Claray opened up her sack and pulled out a fur and a plaid, sat on one and covered her lap with the other. “Dyna, what do you think happened to Thorn?”
“I believe Nari. He knows him best. He was upset over what happened to Mama, knew it was partially his fault, so he left. He probably went off to look for his sire. He’ll come back, even if he finds him, though I’d wager against that happening.”
“But why now? He asked Papa for my hand. I thought we would get to know each other better.”
Derric came in behind her. “I’ll tell you why. Because once he marries you, he won’t want to take off and leave you to look for his sire. He has to try one last time before he offers for you. Before he stands in front of a priest and vows to protect you for the rest of his life.”
“And I doubt we’ll see him before Yule,” Dyna said softly. “I think he’s also waiting until Mama is healed a bit. He couldn’t bear to see her in pain. He ran out the door as soon as she yelled. He can take care of himself.”
“So you don’t think he ran away from me, do you?” Claray said, putting voice to her worst fear. “You don’t think he changed his mind about me?”
“Nay, not with the way he looks at you,” Derric said.
“How does he look at me?”
“Like a man who has been starved for the past moon, and in a way he has been.” Derric winked at her, then returned to the other section of the cave to get the fire started.
The wink made her realize what he meant, and all she could do was blush.
Chapter Eleven
Thorn strode into the first inn, made his way over to the innkeeper. They were serving dinner to about ten people.
“You need a room, son?” the innkeeper asked.
The man was gray-haired, so he’d been around for a while. “Nay,” Thorn said. “I’m looking for someone. A man named Taylor, long gray beard.”
“Fulk Taylor? I haven’t seen him around in a long time.”
Thorn’s heart nearly burst out of his chest. Fulk was his sire’s name, and it wasn’t a common one. His grandmama had been English. “How long ago? When was the last you saw him?”
The innkeeper stared up at the beams in the ceiling. “Long time. Mayhap fifteen or twenty years.”
His heart thumped painfully in his chest. It was long ago, aye, but it was also long after his father had supposedly died.
“Many thanks to you,” Thorn said, leaving out the door. How he wished he had his sword, but Henry had kept it, likely knowing it was the one way he could guarantee Thorn did not leave. Even if the sword had not possessed personal value, he couldn’t have left Edinburgh without it. It would be much too dangerous to travel without a weapon, and he lacked the coin to buy a replacement.
Outside the inn, he stopped, his back to the wall, and breathed deeply. Twenty years ago, when he was seven and ten, his father had still been alive.
Where was he now?
He had no idea where to look, but it certainly wasn’t Edinburgh. At least he knew he didn’t need Henry’s help any longer. Fulk Taylor was off on his own venture, and who knew if he was still alive?
Thorn couldn’t decide if he was happy with his find or saddened. Gutted was probably a better word. His father had returned, and he hadn’t come for him.
Or had he?
What if his sea voyage had taken longer than expected, and he’d come back after Thorn and Nari had gone off to the Highlands? Perhaps he’d been saddened not to find them.
Was it possible his sire still searched for him?
Nay. Anyone would have given up long ago. Except he hadn’t. Out of nowhere, a sudden urge to look for his father had popped into his mind, and it had brought him here.
He turned around, looking for Henry and Ewan, not surprised to find them coming toward him. Running toward him. How he wished he had a sword to skewer them both.
“We don’t appreciate your methods. Now you’re taking us directly to Lochluin Abbey, or I’ll skewer your innards and spread them all over the path. You ruined a good thieving. Now you’ll pay.”
Thorn’s gaze narrowed at the bastard. “We’re leaving because you’re afraid of the magistrate. You aren’t fooling me.” He was done being intimidated by them, but hellfire, he wanted his sword back.
“The storm’s coming, so we’re moving on. You can find your sire another time.”
“No problem. He’s not here.” Thorn said, following them back to the stables. “We’ll head to the abbey.” He knew his best chance of getting away from them would be on Cameron land. Their guards patrolled the abbey and would find him. He also needed to alert them to Henry’s plans.
They mounted up and headed out, Henry only making one announcement. “We’ll not tarry. No talking. We travel as fast as we can or we’ll never beat the storm. I’ll lead, and Ewan will take up the rear. Umfrey will ride ahead of you, Grant warrior.”
And off they went to Cameron land. The quiet gave him the chance to plan for his escape. Once they arrived at Lochluin Abbey, they’d have to hide their horses in the forest and enter the building on foot. Perhaps he could convince Henry to leave Umfrey outside to stand guard, which would only leave him with Henry and Ewan to fight off. He knew there were plenty of weapons about in the cellars, so he’d be able to find something to fight them off.
Or perhaps he’d be able to lose them once the storm hit. That possibility seemed stronger. He could find his way out of a storm, and once he did, he knew plenty of places to hide. The only issue was being
weaponless.
How the hell would he get his sword back?
***
They got up before dawn and left, just as Dyna had said. Claray was eager to get moving because even she could feel the storm coming now. The winds were increasing, the temperature was dropping, but fortunately, the snow hadn’t begun yet.
They rode fast and hard, making only one stop, and Claray could feel herself getting more and more upset. They hadn’t seen any sign of Thorn. She’d pestered Dyna and Derric with questions all day until she knew they wished to tie a gag around her, but she couldn’t stop herself from worrying.
“Are we nearly there yet?” she asked a few hours later. Dusk was nearly upon them, and that made her nervous…especially since the snow had started.
Snowflakes swirled around them, and the wind buffeted the last leaves on the trees.
“Nearly there. I’d say an hour,” Derric said. “Don’t lag behind. Your mare is tiring. Be kind to her, or she’ll buck you off, Claray.”
“I know, but I can’t stop when I get worried.” She looked over at her sister, needing one of her kind looks, but Dyna had her face well hidden inside her hood. “I’m trying my best.”
“We’re nearly there,” Dyna barked. “Don’t panic!”
Claray did her best to stay calm but gripped the reins of her horse too tightly. She knew it, and yet she couldn’t bring herself to let up. The snow swirled around them in a mesmerizing, relentless pattern that was bound to make her heave. She pulled the hood of her mantle farther forward, doing her best to keep an eye on the horses in front of her.
Dyna yelled back to her, “Keep up, Claray. We have to get to Cameron land. I don’t care to spend a week in a cave in this weather.”
Claray shouted, “I’m trying my best, but my horse isn’t moving any faster. She’s afraid, too.”
Derric moved back and said, “Let up on the reins. You’re hurting her.” As soon as she loosened her grip, he reached over and gave the horse a swat on her flank. The mare hurried forward with a nicker.
Claray followed the path as best she could. There were four guards behind her, at least, so there was no way she’d get lost in this storm. That much soothed her. Her eyebrows were frozen from the wind, her nose hairs tickling her, making her want to sneeze.
“We’re on Cameron land,” Dyna shouted. “We’re almost to the stables.”
They moved on ahead, but then the worst happened. The wind picked up, and the snow fell faster and harder than before. Her horse knocked into the horse in front of her, the mount ridden by one of the guards, but his horse didn’t like it and tried to buck at Claray’s horse.
Her gentle mare spooked and took off like a shot in the wrong direction.
Claray screamed, pulling on the reins, doing her best to control the wild beast, but to no avail. The frightened animal ran faster and harder, bouncing Claray so hard she could barely hang on. “Dyna! Derric! Help me, please!”
Nothing. She heard no one, saw nothing but a white blanket of snow—heavy, thick flakes blocking her view of everything. The wind blew so hard it whistled through the pines, and she covered her face from the bitter cold. Yanking on the reins one more time, she prayed her horse would notice and stop.
She did. The mare stopped so fast she tossed Claray into a deep bank of snow, and by the time she stood up to grab onto her reins, she was nowhere to be seen.
“Help, Dyna!”
Panic threaded through her body, and she ran and ran, tripping and tumbling into snowbanks until she finally lay on one of them and sobbed, her tears freezing onto her cheeks. She took shelter under a tree, which protected her view enough for her to look around. She peered in every direction for any glimpse of Dyna, Derric, any of the guards, and any of their horses.
Nothing but a seemingly endless expanse of white and pine trees.
She took several deep breaths, collecting herself, then moved back into the snow and ran in the direction she thought she’d come from. She knew, without a doubt, that her sister would be searching for her everywhere. She had to run into her eventually. Vowing not to turn around, she continued along in the same direction, treading through deep snow.
It seemed hours passed without anything happening, though she guessed it was probably just minutes. A sudden understanding hit her. She had to find a place to hide in until the storm was over. Dyna would find her eventually, but in the meantime, she needed protection from the constant onslaught of wind and snow. She shivered so badly that her steps slowed, each one more difficult.
You must go on. Think of Dyna, of Mama, of Thorn.
She continued until she could not move one more foot. Every movement she made became slow, arduous, nearly impossible. The snow continued to pelt her, as if laughing at her.
You should have stayed home.
Then she decided she would do no more crying. She huddled under a tree to gain her bearings for a bit, and as soon as the wind died again, she stepped out into the snow. There was something dark ahead, and she prayed it was a cave. If she could just get inside a cave…
What good would it do? She didn’t know how to start a fire with wet wood, and that was if she could find any wood at all. Her horse had taken off with her saddlebag. She had no extra plaid to sleep on, no soft fur to lay underneath her.
She was going to die.
Her mind roiled from the thought, but then a subtle sense of peace came over her. The shivering stopped, her fear ended, and her breathing slowed.
She took four more steps but had to stop because she’d lost the energy to pick up her feet. It was too difficult, too hard to move, too cold, too…
Out of nowhere, a horse appeared next to her. The snow swirled around it so fast she couldn’t even see if there was a rider on it. Was it hers?
No, it was much too large. This was a massive black warhorse who snorted at her as the rider came to a stop next to her, reaching down for her hand. She gave it to him, and the rider tossed her up in front of him as the horse moved on.
The man’s heat enveloped her, and she sighed with relief. It had to be Thorn. “Thorn? ’Tis it not you?” She turned around to look, but the snow was so heavy that she couldn’t make out the man’s features. “Derric?” Nay, his hair was dark and it blew freely in the wind. He was much too tall for her to make out any features.
Then she knew who it had to be.
“Papa? I’m so glad you came for me.”
She rested against his heat, cocooning herself in this man’s arms, his chest protecting her back. Her father had always been her protector. She’d never thought of him as a stepfather, even though she still felt all the pain of knowing her sire had been an awful man. No stepfather could love her like Connor Grant did.
He led them straight to a cave, the one she’d seen up ahead, and to her surprise, there was already a fire lit in the entrance, positioned carefully so the wind wouldn’t blow it out.
The man dismounted and reached for her, lifting her down from the horse. He tugged her hood down over her eyes and pointed toward the fire, ushering her inside with a hand at her back. She rushed over to the fire and basked in its heat. Unbuttoning her mantle, she stepped inside the protection of the cave and shook the snow from her clothing, watching it magically melt as it landed on the stone floor of the cave.
“I’m so grateful you came for me. I thought I was about to die.” She smiled with pleasure and looked around to thank her hero.
It was then she saw them, a woman near the back of the cave standing with a man who had his arm wrapped around her, both wearing soft smiles.
For a moment, she couldn’t believe her own eyes.
“Grandsire? Grandmama?”
Chapter Twelve
The spirit of her dear grandmama rushed over to her side. “This storm was much worse than we thought. Stay warm by the fire. We can only keep it going for a short time.” Her grandmama fussed over her, brushing snow from her hair and back, while her grandfather stoked the fire.
Claray cou
ldn’t believe her beloved grandparents stood in front of her, both looking younger, their gray hair restored to its original color. Grandsire’s hair was so dark, he looked like her father. And Grandmama’s golden plait would shine in the sunlight.
“Did I die?” she blurted out. Although she feared hearing the answer to her question, it needed to be asked.
Grandmama smiled at her, that smile that had comforted Claray after skinned knees and broken toys and disappointments large and small. “Heavens, nay, Claray. Alex likes to sit and watch you all find your own way, but once in a while, we must step in, though we aren’t allowed to do as much as we’d like. We’ll be forced to leave in a few more minutes. Now give me that soaked mantle.”
She saw to Claray’s mantle while Grandsire wrapped her up in two long furs and settled her on a rocky ledge near the fire. Grandmama continued to fuss, just like she always had, and Grandsire followed her with his eyes as if he feared what would happen if he lost sight of her.
“Grandsire? I miss you so.”
“Ah, Claray, I know how it pains people to be left behind, but you needn’t worry about us. Maddie and I have much work to do, and ’tis most rewarding.” He smiled at her, that old look that she’d tried but failed to capture in her drawings.
“Smile again, please?”
He did, coming closer to kneel in front of her. “Look, I can kneel again. My bones are working as they should.” He chuckled, his face lit up like a wee bairn’s. “And I spend all my time with our other loved ones who have passed.”
“Grandsire, wait. Stay and keep that smile. Please.” Her hand came up to his cheek, and to her surprise, he felt solid. “I must remember exactly how you looked. I’ve tried to draw your picture, but something has eluded me.” She ran her finger to the slight crinkles near his eyes. He looked like a young man once more, but his smile had always transformed his whole face. “Your smile. I must capture it. What do you do all day now?”
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