“Ye’re alone,” she finally whispered into the dark. In that moment, tears welled up in her eyes once more. She truly did feel alone in the world.
In this dark night, it was a comfort to not be watched or surrounded by enemies. However, when it was true of her life, the thought of being alone was no comfort at all. It was a thought as dim and black as the night surrounding her. A cold chill raced down her spine.
Truly, she had no one now. She had angered Adeline, she barely knew Joanna, she had decided to abandon Callum, and Douglas had no knowledge of her coming for him now, despite their farewell.
If the cold should take her, or if some untoward enemy appeared this night, who would know? Who would care? She had been unable to share her heart with anyone about this journey.
Grace continued to ride until the clouds in the night began to glow with the soft blue of dawn. She stifled a yawn, but it got the better of her and came back more fiercely than before.
As she looked ahead, the morning light revealed a dark silhouette not far ahead of her. He was a man, out walking. Remembering terrible stories she had heard of naive young women wandering alone at night, Grace felt her heart begin to pound.
“Hello there!” called a male voice.
Grace squinted her eyes to try to make out some details, but it seemed that the shroud of darkness was too strong. She could see nothing except his frame.
“Aye, hello. Who might ye be?” she responded in a less than friendly tone.
“Just a weary traveler,” he replied in an accent that sounded fairly northern and less of the region in which they currently wandered.
“And what are ye doing out in these parts?” she asked, coming up close to the man. He was on the ground and she on a horse. That was a good sign. That meant she had the advantage.
“As I said, I’m just a traveler. Nothing to be alarmed by,” he replied.
“Right then, I’ll be off and away,” she said.
“But if ye do have a bit of anything to spare, I’m terribly hungry and thirsty,” the man said urgently, in a bid to get her to remain.
Grace felt alarm flare in her gut. There was something wrong. This wasn’t right. This man was too desperate for her to come speak with him.
“I’ve nothing. I’m on a very short journey. Forgive me, but I’ve not got any food,” she replied, trying to pick up her speed, hoping she might be able to get past him quickly if she rode harder.
However, the man was blocking her path and she might risk running down an innocent, though foolish, man if she continued trying to take this course. The dilemma was a difficult one, but ultimately Grace knew that her safety was of greater import than some stranger making the poor decision to get in her way.
Grace allowed herself to pause for just a moment in her thoughts, to take a rest from action and just make a decision. She had never been very good at that. Wasn’t that what led her to this moment? This swift decision to chase after Douglas had come about as a result of her inability to decide whom she loved most.
Yes, she would make a decision. Her decision was that she had to reach safety and this man might as well move or be run down. She could not risk being so utterly foolish as to allow him to stand in her way and distract her from potential threats. She had to get to Douglas safely.
She proceeded forward quickly.
“But, miss-” he said strangely.
Grace was unaccustomed to being referred to as ‘miss’ by anyone other than the English. A true Scotsman would have called her a ‘lass’. Who was this man?
Digging her heel into the mare, Grace shot forward and the man stumbled out of the way just in time. Grace saw that as he did, the dark cloak he held about him was ripped off by the motion and underneath he bore the insignia of his troop.
Yes, he was indeed a Hanoverian. He was indeed a soldier at war with her own people.
Douglas might be among them, but he was not one of them. This man was setting a trap for her and it was not one into which she would fall.
As Grace barreled along the path, she saw that there was a blocked turn up ahead. She had no view of what might lie beyond it. However, she also knew that she could not go back.
With two difficult options before her, Grace decided she had to proceed forward. It was the only way.
Going back meant certain revenge from the man, but going forward meant there might be a small chance of safety.
She raced for the turn in the road, hoping that if anyone did wait on the other side, she might trample them and gain her freedom.
As the turn came, Grace felt a hoof of her mare slip just enough to cause them to slow. As they made their way around the bend, she heaved a sigh of relief.
There was nothing. No one.
She continued until she saw the road leading into the forest. That was good. It meant she would have a greater chance of hiding. No one could get to her in the forest.
Sure, they could be hiding out, waiting for her. Ultimately, though, Grace knew that they would not manage to close in around her. She could easily dodge them. If Scottish women were anything, they were excellent horsewomen.
As the horse continued the frantic pace, they entered the woods. Grace’s fears were almost immediately confirmed. She saw riders coming at her from all sides. Hanoverian soldiers.
She weaved her way through, dodging them, not slowing even for a moment in case they might get the upper hand and find a way to capture her. She had to keep going, had to get through the net of them so that she might slow down and gather her thoughts beyond this danger.
She suddenly realized she had a great deal to consider knowing that Douglas was aligned with these men. No wonder it was of such a concern to many, the idea of Hanoverians and Jacobites.
However, Grace saw the end of the trees ahead. The sound of quick hooves and the laughter of amorous men haunted her from behind. It was growing ever closer. She could feel them gaining on her without even looking for confirmation.
The trees were her friend, they put small, insignificant barriers between her and the men, but they brought her a needed sense of safety and protection.
Passing through them to the other side of the forest, Grace faced the real trap.
Before her was a half moon of fifty men. She had to slow or she would kill herself and her mare in the event of a collision with one of the steed-mounted men.
From behind, the half moon became full.
Grace was trapped.
To Seek A Woman Loved
“Slow,” Douglas whispered, pulling back on the reins and causing his steed to snort in protest. The beast relaxed his gait and eased into a casual walk that had grown quite unfamiliar compared to the typical urgency with which Douglas moved.
He was heading back toward Fort Amswold, but found himself drawn to Dunmore. He had to find Grace. Like a fever, he needed her. He had to explain to her all that he had learned, had to tell her how deeply he trusted her now, had to give her every moment of his attention.
Yes, she had become his consuming thought now that he released the pressure of forcible hatred. Now he could love her freely.
Douglas drew the hood over his head. He had been practicing his accent, knowing that if he was going to travel safely, he had to hide his true identity in Scotland. For now, he was a mere traveler from Golspie that found himself in need of a bit of food.
The disguise was not his greatest, and he had had plenty of time to come up with something better, but found that he was too emotionally exhausted even to try. He had to get to Grace and nothing else was of greater import. If he could get to her, then his identity didn’t matter any longer.
The moment he saw her, he would fall on his knees and beg her to marry him. That was the only thing he wanted. They could handle the rest from there. He could explain to the laird who he was and why he was no longer a threat.
The steed came to a halt just outside the stables. It was now or never.
“What can I help ye with?” asked the stable boy.
“Right then,” the stable boy replied, gesturing for Douglas to dismount and lead the steed inside.
Douglas noticed an empty stall beside the one his steed was placed in. He also noticed that he didn’t see Grace’s mare anywhere.
She’s probably out riding. I’ll have to draw out my time, he thought to himself. The idea of hanging around the castle presented a new challenge, but not one he was unwilling to undertake. He could wait for her. He could do anything for her. He could not be without her.
Douglas was guided up toward the castle. As he was not an honored guest or a man even remotely known to the laird, he was told, unceremoniously, that he would have to eat in the kitchen with the servants.
“That isnae a problem at all,” he replied with a false smile that showed teeth befitting a man of station as opposed to the vagabond he was pretending to be.
“We’ve got a pot of stew, plenty of cheese and bread, a bit of haggis would ye like?” asked one of the many chefs bustling about the kitchen. They were preparing for the evening’s meal, but it seemed they had barely even begun to eat lunch. Douglas had never seen so much food remaining after a meal was eaten.
“I’ll have whatever is left,” he said, seeing that everything looked quite spectacular and he couldn’t turn down food so splendid.
“Right then. Haggis, neeps, and tatties?” the servant offered.
Douglas forced the smile back to his face. He had heard of this legendary haggis, and he knew that as a military man, he had eaten far more conspicuous delicacies in the woods with his troop. Yet somehow, the thought of eating anything cooked within the stomach of a sheep was grim.
Alas, this was the land of his mother and as such, he would give it a go.
“Sounds like a dream,” he grinned.
The servant was satisfied by this reply and went about fixing him a plate to ensure that their new traveler friend got the best bits of food she could find around the place.
Before Douglas even tucked into the first plate, the kitchen staff set before him a plate filled with fruits and cheeses with bread so he could enjoy that along with his dining.
“Why thank ye,” he said, truly pleased by the assortment laid out before him.
“It’s nothing to me at all,” she replied, bustling away to finish preparing dinner.
Douglas grabbed his fork and tucked into the mixture of oatmeal, spices and ground meat. Scooping it onto his fork, he subtly tried to sniff it without anyone noticing this strange gesture.
It didn’t smell terrible. All the spices that were added to it probably gave it a flavorful scent that somehow managed to entice him.
Finally, Douglas put it in his mouth and savored the unexpected goodness of it. He was pleasantly surprised and would not have been able to deny it had anyone from his troop asked about it.
He remembered much of the little rations they had at Fort Amswold and realized that this was quite significantly better to indulge in, hearty and tasty.
Finally, as he had seen many a Scotsman do, Douglas scooped his fork full of the potatoes, turnips, and sheep innards before shoving it into his mouth.
“How’s it?” the servant asked, coming past him to throw a bucket of dirty water outside.
“Incredible,” he answered honestly.
“That’ll do for ye, then?” she asked.
“Truly, it’s rather unexpected and terribly generous of you,” Douglas said vaguely, not wanting give away anything, but realizing that, although he had mostly perfected his accent, his dialect still needed a fair bit of work.
The woman merely nodded at him and walked away. He breathed a sigh of relief until he heard the creak of the door and realized that a familiar presence had entered the room.
Joanna stared at Douglas with squinted eyes. He had seen her do this when they were in the woods, as if she needed help with her vision. However, he could see as she confirmed her doubts and recognized with certainty that he was the one. The man from the woods. The man who had been wounded. The man she had helped and sent away.
He had been caught.
“Please…” he whispered so that only Joanna could hear. He held up a hand to beg her silence and she looked at him with hatred for the request. On the other hand, maybe it was hatred purely for who he was, Douglas had no way to be sure of the reason for it. Nevertheless, he saw it deeply. Hatred.
“Why should I be silent for ye?” Joanna spat through clenched teeth in a hushed tone. The venom took him aback, although he knew that it shouldn’t. This was a woman who deeply despised him purely for what little she knew of him.
If only she could know what he had just learned of himself…
“You probably shouldn’t. But I am asking you to anyway. I need your help,” he replied quietly, away from the ears of the kitchen staff.
“Me help?” Joanna scoffed, showing a wide and hateful smile.
“Indeed. Is there anywhere we can go away from here to speak? Somewhere we won’t be heard?” he requested.
“A place we willnae be heard? There arnae many places in the castle like that. It’s a place full of gossips. Me least favorite part of it all,” she said dryly, looking around and allowing her eyes to gesture toward all of the people surrounding them.
“Please, there must be somewhere…” he begged.
Joanna took in the sight of him for a moment, considering whether she might trust him. “Right then, let’s head to the gardens, shall we?” she offered with an unnaturally polite veneer.
Douglas nodded his head and breathed a sigh of relief. The gardens sounded perfect. He remembered their exquisite beauty and recalled the gentle privacy of them. It was an ideal place for this conversation.
Joanna slowly led him out of the kitchen and into the gardens as he followed behind her. They did their best to go unnoticed, but Douglas was sure that a few of the kitchen staff followed them with their eyes as if something truly suspicious were taking place. Maybe it was. Douglas didn’t know anymore.
Was talking to Joanna putting her in danger as he had already once before? Was he risking her life for his own selfishness and the things that he wanted from Grace?
He had to push it aside now. He was going to be selfish.
Douglas watched Joanna round the corner into the daisies and thistle. A series of looming apple trees blocked her from view for only a moment before he made the turn and found her again. It took only a moment for her to rear back on him.
“What are ye doing here, ye foolish waste of flesh?” she asked, jutting her face near his with a rage he had never seen. The fire in Joanna’s eyes was terrifying, but he could not resist taking the shame anyway.
“Listen, I mean you no harm. You must believe that. But I have to tell you that I have learned some truths about myself, things I never knew. About my family, my mother. I must speak with Grace. I have to tell her the truth. And I have to tell her how I feel,” he said urgently.
Joanna stared at him for a brief moment, and he could see that she was fighting sympathy. “And how exactly do ye feel?” she asked in the same strained tone of irritation.
“I love her, Joanna. Truly. I have never loved before, but I can only imagine this is it,” he replied with passion. He knew he should be ashamed for his openness, but found he didn’t care if Joanna knew the truth.
“Ye love her?” she asked with a cocked eyebrow.
“More than anything,” Douglas said confidently.
“And what do ye plan on doing about it? What do ye plan on doing to live together with her forever? I mean, really. Ye’re a Hanoverian, an Englishman, an enemy. What makes ye think it will ever be more than that between the two of ye?” she challenged.
“I will do whatever I can. I don’t imagine it will be easy, but I have to do it. I have to be with her. Forever,” he r
eplied.
Again, Joanna watched him, judging the truth in his words. Finally, she sighed and relented. “Unfortunately, I do not have good news to offer you.”
“What do you mean? What happened? What’s wrong?” Douglas asked with great concern.
“Mr. Hanoverian, me dear friend has vanished. The whole castle is in a terrible state. She vanished in the night. No one knows where she’s gotten to and we are all afraid. We dinnae ken what’s become of her. Are ye sure ye didnae take her?” Joanna asked, looking at him with suspicion.
Douglas felt his knees shake beneath him. He saw a bench not far away and made his way over to it so he could sit. Joanna followed slowly behind.
He allowed his head to fall into his hands and roughly raked his fingers through his hair.
“Wow, ye really didnae,” Joanna said.
Douglas sensed her presence near him. She was sad for him, he felt that too.
The knowledge of Grace’s disappearance was more than he could handle. If she had been taken, he would have to find those responsible, but if she had gone off on her own account, then perhaps she was still nearby.
“I ken that her faither and uncle have sent scouts out searching for her, but they’ve come back with nothing so far. I think they found her missing early this morning, but she’s not come back since,” she informed him.
“How could they not have found her? How could she still be missing? They are trained trackers!” he exclaimed.
“Aye, but she’s a good rider and had a head start. There are still those who are searching, but ultimately, there is little hope. Trackers have gathered that she is somewhere south, but beyond that, we are still waiting for news,” she confessed sadly.
“South? She has gone south?” he asked, desperate for confirmation.
“Aye. South and to the east. I wish I could tell ye more and I’m terribly sorry that I ken nothing more,” she replied.
“That’s alright. I’m good at searching as well. So I ought to try. I will search the woods and beyond. I will look for her wherever I might be able to try. But I can promise you that I will find her eventually. And I will spend the rest of my life showing her how deeply I love her,” he vowed.
Loving A Highland Enemy: Ladies of Dunmore Series (A Medieval Scottish Romance Story) Page 14