When she finished, he placed the cup back onto the table by the bed, next to the brooch that one of the women must’ve carried up. "Are you hungry?" he asked.
His cook was probably soundly asleep as any reasonable person in the castle should be, but perhaps he could find a piece of bread and cheese to tie her over until morning. The woman nodded silently.
It took Adam longer than he’d planned to find the food. It had been years since he last scoured the kitchen cupboards and drawers like a naughty boy trying to find a midnight snack. Since then, there had been different cooks, and with different cooks came different habits that included different places to put the blasted food.
After almost giving in to his frustration, he finally found the bread and cheese and treaded softly back up to his bedroom so not to wake anyone else. He stopped short as heard the soft snores of the woman, her back turned towards him as she slept. A quick brush against her forehead revealed perhaps the slightest of fever.
At the very least, she is not unconscious, he thought, placing her food next to the bed. He sat back down in the chair and watched the even rise of fall of her chest as she breathed. He noticed her long lashes brushing the tops of her cheeks and the way her pink lips parted ever so slightly.
He wondered why he took the care to notice such things.
Adam folded his arms as he sat back in the chair, feeling surprisingly tired. His eyes began to feel heavy. When he couldn’t keep them open any longer, he fell into a dreamless slumber.
Chapter 3
Two voices stirred Nellie back into consciousness. Her eyes were heavy, forcing her to keep them closed as she listened to the strangers quietly speak about a lass with a fever. One voice was clearly that of an older woman, and the other was a man’s voice. As her awareness began to spread to the aching of her body and the throbbing pain in her head, she realized that the strangers were talking about her.
Where am I?
A deep part of her wanted to feel panic, but the voices did not seem hostile and the bed she lay in was warm and so very soft. When was the last time she felt such comfort? A fire crackled nearby and she thought she could smell roasted fowl, although it could just be her empty stomach playing tricks with her mind. It was painful to swallow against her dry throat. She hadn’t had a sip of water since she left Burrach Castle. She made the mistake of forgetting her waterskin on the table where she took her mother’s brooch.
As the two strangers whispered, she lay quietly, recalling the events that led her to be here. Yes, she had made it to another castle. The last thing she remembered was falling from Lily as the horse collapsed. No wonder she felt like she’d been beaten; bruises probably covered her from head to toe, but she supposed it could have been worse.
Poor Lily must not have survived. Her mare was her last tie to her family, and to Burrach Castle. She really was all alone now. Tears pooled in her eyes, making her head throb even worse.
A pair of footsteps left the room, yet she could still hear the presence of another: the rustling of clothes and the creak of a chair. Did the old woman stay? She reckoned her to be a healer, but who was the man? Nellie wanted to open her eyes to see who was there, but the simple movement seemed an impossible feat.
Her breath stopped when a pair of hands gently touched her head. Her scalp tingled from the sensation of her hair being lightly pulled, as though the person had glided their fingers through it. She shivered as the person leaned closer, enough so that she could breathe in the scent of smoke and the salty sea, and something that was all man. He was unraveling something around her head, taking gentle care as he held the back of her head with his hand.
A cool wet cloth gently dabbed at the right side of her temple. She felt a bit of stinging discomfort as he worked around the wound, but the calm assuredness allowed her to relax into his hand. A linen material wound its way around her head, and when he finished, he ever so gently guided her head back on the pillows.
My goodness, who was this man?
She dared to open her eyes, straining against the weight of them. The man sat next to her in a chair that seemed too small for his large body. His long hair was a chestnut brown, just falling past his chin. A short beard glinted copper in the dim candlelight and covered his angled jaw. His green eyes stared back at her, divided by a scar that ran between his eyebrows. He had a dangerous look to him that belied the gentleness of his actions before.
A flush came to her cheeks at the thought, but the lit sconces were much too bright. A searing pain wracked her head once again. Her vision doubled, and she blinked at him as he asked if she needed water. She must have said something in the affirmative because he helped her to sit up. She felt the hard muscles of his forearms flex against her body. His breath was warm on the top of her head, sending another shiver down her spine.
He handed her a cup and she took it with trembling hands. Before she spilled the water on herself, he caught the cup and brought it to her lips for her to drink. She closed her eyes and sipped slowly, relishing the cold water as it slid down her parched throat.
The man asked if she was hungry. When she said yes, he stood up and walked across the room, his tall body almost blocking the entire doorframe as he ducked to go through it.
She stared at the door long after he left. Was she mistaken? Was this man the healer? If not, then who was he?
For the moment, however, it mattered not. She had found safety after all. The thought heartened her. She hoped her parents’ spirits rested easily knowing she still lived.
Time passed, but the man did not return.
She tried to stay awake for him, but the pillows were so soft, and the prospect of sleep drew her in quickly. She slid down into the bed and closed her eyes, not waking until the morning.
“Adam. My laird.” The voice of the same older lady woke Nellie. She blinked her eyes open, squinting as the morning sun broke through the windows, streaming light into the room.
My laird?
The woman stood at the door, but Nellie wasn’t sure if she’d notice she’d awoken. The woman was short, perhaps Nellie’s height with a plump body and a soft, round face. Wrinkles decorated her face like crags on a rock, making her seem older than Scotia.
Nellie glanced beside the bed and saw the man from last night hunched over uncomfortably in the chair, his head leaning back against the wall and his eyes closed. On the table beside the bed sat a meager portion of food.
Did he sleep next to me the entire night?
“Adam,” the old lady said again, more sharply this time.
He awoke with a start. “What is it, Lachina?” he grumbled.
The woman nodded towards Nellie. “The lass is awake.” She gave her a warm smile. Her brown eyes were kind, making Nellie feel at ease. “How are you feeling?” she asked her.
Nellie wiggled her fingers and toes as she pondered the question. “I’m not quite sure. Hungry, for certain,” she replied.
She sat up slowly and reached for the food. Her head did not hurt as much as the night before, but she still felt a bit weak. The man made a move to help her.
“It’s all right. I can manage,” she told him.
“Ach, the lass needs something warm,” Lachina announced. “I’m goin’ to get you some fresh breakfast.” She walked over to take the plate of food. “I’ll be back quickly.”
The two of them were alone yet again. Nellie could sense some sort of discomfort in the man. Adam. So, this man was a laird? It was unnerving the way he stared at her. She wanted to say something, anything, to break the silence.
“I, um… I thank you for helping me.”
He gave her a quick nod. “Your fever seems to have lifted,” the laird remarked. “You seem to be farin’ better than last night.”
“Well, my body aches less, but I feel like a herd of horses trampled over me.” Nellie looked about her, finally noticing the drab bedroom. No decorations adorned the walls and all the furniture seemed to be a bit dusty. “Where am I, exactly?”
/> The laird sat back in his chair and eyed her warily. “Dunaid Castle,” he replied. The name sounded familiar, but she was still finding it difficult to think clearly. “You speak like you’re English, or at least from the Lowlands.”
“My mother is English.” Was English, she amended to herself, her heart clenching.
The laird leaned back in the chair and crossed his leg over the other. “Who are you, then?”
“Fanella Lyall.” Her name escaped her lips before she could think better of it. She immediately regretted it, especially as she noticed the dark look that passed over the man’s face.
“Fanella Lyall? Malcolm Lyall’s daughter?” He said the name of her father like he was uttering an oath. She stared at him mutely, wondering why he had quickly become so hostile.
Even after all these years, did people still fear the Lyall clan? Is he frightened like my father’s men were? Is he going to throw me out lest he be cursed as well? Yet, it soon became clear to her.
Dunaid Castle… although her father never spoke much about what happened, he did mention the castle where Una was from and whom she was married to.
Laird Calum Maxwell.
She had stumbled into lands belonging to the Maxwells, the family who destroyed hers!
Nellie could not find any words to speak. She jumped as the laird stood up abruptly from the chair and towered over her like a menhir standing stone. As Lachina came in with a wooden tray in her hands, the man stalked briskly past her, causing her to almost spill a bowl of porridge on the floor.
Lachina put the food down on the table and waved her hand like she was swatting at a bug. “Ach, pay him no mind. He’s been a prickly lad all his life. Here, I’ll help you sit up.”
“Thank you,” Nellie mumbled. She looked down and noticed she was wearing a shift that was a wee bit too big for her. Where were her old clothes? She was relieved to find her ma’s brooch beside her bed. But where were her breacan and her dagger?
“Your clothes were torn an’ beyond repair,” Lachina said, as though reading her mind. “Isla was gracious to lend you some of her clothes, but you can take the time to alter it a bit when you feel better.”
“Is Isla… his wife?”
“You mean Adam? Oh, heavens, no. She’s married to Alister, Adam’s cousin. He sat in Adam’s seat while Adam was gone.” Lachina shook her head as she lifted the bowl from the tray, stirring it a bit with a wooden spoon. “Now, here I am, blatherin’ away, keepin’ you from your food. Go ahead, eat.”
Nellie spooned the porridge into her mouth and forced herself to chew, although her stomach revolted at the thick, bland substance. “Did I hear correctly that he is laird of this estate?” she asked the woman after she swallowed a couple bites.
“Oh, he hasn’t said yet? That is Laird Adam Maxwell.”
“Calum Maxwell’s son?”
“Aye, God rest his soul.”
“And… and Una was Lady of Dunaid?”
Lachina pursed her lips. She looked behind her shoulder as though to make sure no one was listening. “Una did not waste any time to leave Dunaid once the old Laird Maxwell passed on,” Lachina said conspiratorially. Nellie noticed the distaste in her voice, which made her decidedly like the older woman. “That was nigh fifteen years ago. She hasn’t been back since.”
Well, at the very least, that monster wasn’t near her. Did the leannan sith know that she escaped? Would she care, or even remember her after all these years?
Still, she was in her enemy’s household, and Adam did not seem particularly pleased to even be in the same room as her. If he was Una’s child, who was to say he wouldn’t turn her into a toad on the spot? The porridge turned to ash in her mouth. She struggled to swallow, washing the food down with sips of water, leaving her stomach feeling heavy as a rock.
Lachina was quick to see the discomfort. “What is the matter, lass?”
“I need to get away from here.”
“Not in your current state,” Lachina said, shaking her head. “You’re not goin’ anywhere with that bump on your head. Now, eat some more food an’ see how you feel afterward.”
Nellie repressed a heavy sigh. Under Lachina’s watchful eye, she finished the porridge. Indeed, she felt a trifle better, but her mind was firmly set. She did not want to be under the Maxwells’ mercy for longer than she needed to.
Nellie rested the empty bowl on the table. “I heard your name is Lachina.”
“Aye, I’m the healer around these parts. What’s your name?”
She hesitated. Although Lachina seemed trustworthy, perhaps it wasn’t so wise to give out her full name. “My name is Nellie,” she replied. Wanting to change the subject of the discussion, she asked, “Is Laird Maxwell a healer as well?”
“Not exactly. His mother—”
“Lachina.” Adam stood by the door, glaring at the old woman. “I need to speak with you,” he said crossly. Lachina gave Nellie a reassuring smile and left, closing the door quietly behind her.
They spoke in hushed tones on the other side of the door, but Nellie knew without needing to hear that he was telling Lachina who she was. He knows who I am. Now, everyone else will, too. What will he do to me? Will he tell Una? Will she curse me yet again, or perhaps this time, kill me and be done with it?
Perhaps that would be too much of a mercy. She did not like the way fear gripped her. No, her parents raised her to be stronger than this.
She only had one option.
Escape.
Nellie continued to listen as the voices faded from the door. They were walking away from the bedroom. Nellie perked her ears like a cat until she could not hear them any longer. Gingerly, she swung her legs over the bed and tested her weight. Indeed, she felt stronger after she’d eaten, but tremors still shook her body as though she was standing on uneven ground.
She took a deep breath to steady herself and was about to leave, but remembered the brooch beside the bed. As she had no breacan, she pinned the jewel to her dress. Perhaps it was wise that her dagger had been taken, for in that desperate moment, she might not be afraid to use it.
Quiet as a church mouse, she opened the door, wincing at the loud creaking of its hinges. She poked her head out first, looking up and down the hall for any sign of life. There was naught but the low whistling of the wind finding its way through the cracks and windows of the castle wall.
Well, to the left, or the right?
She spotted a set of stairs down the left side of the hall, descending into the shadows below, and quickly made her decision. She was thankful for the long sleeves of her shift as she walked through the drafty halls, especially since her feet were barefoot and she wore no stockings. Every few steps, she had to lean a hand against the wall to catch her breath.
A deep part of her accused her of being a fool for attempting escape, but she quickly buried the intruding thought. She thought of her mother and father, doing all they could to make sure their daughter survived despite their circumstances. They would’ve died for Nellie to live, and she could never forget that.
I will make it up to you, Ma and Da. I will get out of this castle and live the life you were both denied.
In case anyone saw her, she kept her chin lifted high and walked with determination. Lyall or no, she was a lady. On their honor, they must let her pass.
Chapter 4
“I’d thought the Lyalls died from that so-called curse.”
“Well, it looks to be the contrary.”
Adam ran his hand through his hair as he stalked down the stairs, Lachina following him closely. “I canna believe I helped her. I should’ve left that wench out in the cold to perish.”
“Are you for certain?” Lachina asked, appalled. “You canna mean to believe that she’s guilty of her father’s sins?”
He turned at her furiously. “Her father tore this family apart. As such, I don’t want anythin’ to do with the Lyalls.”
“Una had a part to play in this, too. Why not be angry with her?”
Lachina shrugged. “Oh, aye, she was kidnapped,” she agreed softly.
Adam narrowed his eyes at her, sensing her skepticism. The old woman was lucky he liked her so.
He always believed Una’s story that she was captured by the randy Malcolm Maxwell. She was a sweet, loving woman who had nothing but adoration to his late father, Calum. It was inconceivable to believe she would ever hurt his family on purpose.
“The Lyalls are an unlucky bunch. I wouldn’t be surprised if Malcolm locked his family away out of embarrassment once Una managed to escape. A curse! What a ridiculous notion.”
They had stopped walking to stand next to the small alcove adjacent to the great hall. As a lad, he often would escape to this spot to hide from the nuns who sought him out for his lessons. He would stare out the large window that overlooked the ocean, dreaming about the day when he could travel the seas as a pirate, stealing ships and collecting bounties while discovering new lands. Now that he was older and had seen how the world works, he knew life wasn’t so glamorous.
Adults should cease to fill children’s minds with fairy stories unless they all want a world full of disillusioned people, he thought.
He now looked out the same window. The waves were choppy and the ocean unsettled. He toyed with the idea of throwing Lady Lyall overboard like they were on a ship. For certain, it would be a quick and effective way to solve the issue at hand.
Ach, nay. He was not that heartless. “Why not send her back to Burrach Castle?” he proposed.
“You canna believe that is a good idea. You’ve seen how sick she was. Would you obligingly send that woman to her death?”
He turned away from the window. “What would you have me do with her, then?” Adam asked quietly.
“She is not harming anyone,” Lachina insisted. “Let her stay here until she is well enough to decide for herself.”
Adam didn’t like that answer. It seemed like the Lyalls would get off too easily when they deserved so much worse.
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