“Let go of my horse!” Marion demanded, this time with a voice that made the Laird let go of the reins.
“Good! Go! Never come back here! Ye are nae welcome! Me Beitris will soon be the Lady of Gille Chriost and ye will have no business here!” he said loudly.
Marion saw something in his eyes. Fury. Madness. This man looked like there was something wrong in his head. He mumbled something inaudible to himself and kept looking at Marion without blinking.
She quickly gathered herself and walked Bells outside without saying a word. The Laird had given her a fright and now her heart was racing for a whole different reason. As she mounted Bells, she heard banging in the stable. It sounded like the Laird was hitting buckets on his way out.
Marion was afraid that the yelling and banging had woken up someone in the castle, so she hurried Bells into a gallop and towards the back fields. It had started drizzling and the clouds were covering the little sliver of the moon. There was no light and she had to trust Bells to watch where she stepped.
She could see the gate to the sheep pastures in front of her. Fortunately, it was open and Marion encouraged Bells to gallop through.
The herd of sheep stood still, watching this lonely horse and her rider fly by. They lifted their heads from the grass and some followed a few steps behind them, before falling back.
Marion could only hear the wind in her ears. She turned to look back over her shoulder, just to see the castle disappearing behind the trees.
“Goodbye,” she whispered.
19
Broken Hearts
Deirdre was heading upstairs. The encounter with Fionnghall after the dinner had given her hope. If he really was going to break off the engagement, Marion should be the first to know. She would be so happy, and the Brun family could go back to where they came from.
And the wedding would be Marion’s and Fionnghall’s! Deirdre’s lips stretched into an excited smile thinking about how happy everyone involved would be. Except for the Bruns, but Lady Beitris didn’t love Fionnghall anyway, so it would not make any difference to her.
She reached Marion’s door and listened for a while. It was late, and she wasn’t sure if she should wake her up. There was no noise coming from her room, so she was not up. Perhaps she had been serious about her headache earlier, and she truly was sleeping.
Deirdre smiled to herself, a glimmer of hope and happiness rising in her chest.
“Good night, Marion, sweet dreams!” she whispered through the door and continued to her own room a few doors down. Tonight, she would sleep well, possibly dreaming about the wedding of Marion’s, and her own. As soon as her beau came back from Ireland, there would be another wedding to plan as well.
* * *
Fionnghall had been sitting in the drawing room with a deck of cards since the dinner. He was growing more impatient by the minute and the whiskey in his bottle was getting lower. He shuffled the cards yet again and played a game by himself.
How did Laird Brun have the nerve to disappear for a whole day without telling anyone where he was going or when he was going to be back? This annoyed and frustrated Fionnghall now, as he needed to talk with him as soon as possible.
Deirdre had come in earlier to inform him that Marion must have been sleeping, which made Fionnghall’s mind a little bit calmer. As long as he was able to talk to Laird Brun before the morning, he could be certain that Marion would stay.
Suddenly, loud banging noises made Fionnghall stand up and walk over to the window. He couldn’t see anyone, but he heard banging coming from the barn. That must be Laird Brun. It was late and grooms were already done for today, and no one else had any business being in the stables.
He hurried out the door towards the stairs and down to the entry hall to wait for the loud guest. Not only was he late, he dared to make such commotion in the night. Might as well wake up the entire castle.
As Fionnghall reached the front door, so did Laird Brun. From afar, he could already hear Laird Brun singing to himself, slurring his words and taking support from the wall. Clearly, he was drunk out of his mind. Fionnghall could only hope that singing and slurring was the worst of it and that he would actually be able to have a reasonable conversation.
“Let me help ye there,” Fionnghall said and grabbed the Laird’s arm as he almost fell on the floor, tripping over his own shoes.
“Laird Gille Chriost, what a surprise this is… awake so late? I didn’t wake ye, did I?” he slurred and tried to focus his red eyes on Fionnghall.
“Nat at all, though I cannae speak fer the rest of the castle,” he replied and walked Laird Brun over to the drawing room. It was the closest room with a couch, where he could lay him down. He should not show his face to his wife in such condition.
“... and the man with a eyepatch, captain of the sh-sh-ship…” he sang to himself, as Fionnghall sat him down on the couch.
Though he was extremely drunk, Fionnghall wasn’t going to waste this opportunity to speak with him.
“Laid Brun, I must speak with ye,” Fionnghall said and sat down opposite to him. The Laird’s eyes were drooping and he was barely awake. “Laird Brun!” Fionnghall said louder.
The Laird’s head nodded back against the couch and Fionnghall grabbed a vase full of flowers. He threw the wild flowers into the fireplace and the water from the vase right onto the Laird’s face. The resentment towards the Laird had grown and the fact that he dared to act like this in his castle annoyed him. He was going to be awoken, one way or another.
“Who’s there?” he snapped awake. “I’ll show ye me sword! Oh, Fionnghall. What did ye dae that fer? Let a man sleep, it has been a day, it has,” he said, this time a bit more clearly.
“I am sure it has been. Laird Brun, I must speak with ye urgently. Dae ye reckon ye can have a conversation with me?”
Laird Brun leaned his puffy face into his hands and nodded.
“Excellent. Laird Brun, I am afraid we must discuss the upcoming marriage-” Fionnghall started, but was interrupted with a loud snore.
Fionnghall exhaled in frustration and furrowed his eyebrows. There was clearly nothing he could do tonight. Laird Brun was as drunk as can be.
“Fionnghall? Need help?” Jack showed up at the door and walked in briskly.
“Ah, thanks,” Fionnghall nodded.
Together they lifted the sturdy Laird’s feet onto the couch and removed his boots. This wasn’t the first time one of the men in the castle had passed out from drinking and needed to sleep it off on the couch.
The Laird was now snoring with all his might and completely unaware of what was happening around him.
“So. Did nae go quite as we planned, eh?” Jack asked.
Fionnghall stood up and shook his head. He walked over to the fireplace and lit the fire with ease. He stared into the fire for a while before speaking.
“Last night, before dinner, Marion said she would leave,” he said quietly.
Jack looked at the Laird who was dead asleep, but nodded to Fionnghall to follow him into the entry hall. They walked out of the living room and closed the door. Laird Brun’s snoring echoed like a thunder in the halls.
“What happened?” Jack asked as they were a safe distance away from the Laird.
“She got upset. She said she did nae love me and that she would leave Gille Chriost,” Fionnghall explained.
He said it with a steady voice, though his insides were burning and all he wanted was to yell out loud and strangle the man snoring on his couch. He was the reason for all of this and Fionnghall wanted him out of the castle, no matter the price.
Jack looked understanding and thoughtful. As was his habit, Jack pondered the information for a moment before responding.
“Jack, say somethin’! What can I dae?”
“Well,” he finally said, “the first part must nae be true. Ye ken Marion already quite well. Dae ye reckon she would nae love ye?”
“I daenae ken anythin’ anymore,” he responded slowly. The wh
iskey was doing its job, numbing his thoughts. “But she cannae leave! I will be lost without her!”
Jack patted his back, but Fionnghall waved his hand and walked further.
“It will be fixed in the morning as the Laird sleeps off his alcohol. Then ye can talk to him,” Jack consoled.
Fionnghall slammed his hand onto the hard, stone wall.
* * *
Marion hurried Bells into a faster gallop as she flew over the sheep pastures. She was still on the castle grounds and what she wanted more than anything right now was to go as far away from Gille Chriost as possible.
Bells’ hooves made a thumping noise against the ground that was getting wetter by the second from the ever increasing rain. Marion could see the fence of the sheep pasture ahead and she slowed down.
She squinted her eyes, looking for a gate or an opening in the fence so that they could slip through and get off the grounds into the wilderness. To her dismay, there seemed to be no gate at this end. Just a high wooden fence that kept the sheep in. There was a watchtower not too far, and Marion was sure that there would be a gate close to it. She contemplated it for a minute, but didn’t want to risk being seen by anyone who could inform Fionnghall about her departure too soon.
“All right, Bells. I trust you,” she whispered and patted Bells on the neck. She turned her around away from the fence and asked her to gallop once again. With a big circle, she turned Bells to face the fence and encouraged her toward it.
Without a bit of hesitation, Bells lifted her head up and leaped over the fence with one giant leap. Marion held on to her mane with a tight grip and she felt her heart drop down to her stomach.
They were over the fence, off the castle grounds. Marion let out a relieved sigh and patted Bells again. She shook her head, clearly happy with herself.
Now that they were further away, Marion could breathe easier. With each step that her horse took, the more her heart was commanding Marion to go back. Her head, on the other hand, disagreed.
So they kept going. The rain was getting worse and the darkness made it hard to navigate through the rocky moors. Eventually, Marion had to slow Bells to a walk, as the rocks and stones made it impossible for them to keep going faster.
Soon, they should be reaching a carriage path that would take them to the nearest town. Marion remembered that from drawing the map with great detail.
But if her calculations were correct, they should have reached the road already. Marion looked around in the dark, but all she could see was more darkness and rain. There was no telling how far away from the castle they were now, and if they had even been going in the right direction.
For a moment, the pain in her heart was pushed aside by fear. Fear of getting lost again.
Don’t think like that now, that is not going to help. I will find a familiar landmark that will direct me in the right direction. Eventually, I will come across a town.
With trembling and cold hands, she took the map out of her bundle. She tried to protect it from the rain with her cloak, but the map got wet and Marion couldn’t read it in the darkness. Frustration and fear weighed on her heart and the pit of her stomach as she stuffed the map back in her bundle.
“Listen, Bells. You know where we are going, right? Let’s go home,” she encouraged Bells, who gladly started walking forwards.
Marion tried her best to hold back the tears of frustration and pain. She was lost again and all because of her emotional decisions. She should have known it was going to rain tonight. She should have waited to leave until it was clear and the moon would have given her light. What if she traveled the wrong way now, away from the border of England? What if she wouldn’t find her way home again?
20
When All Hope Is Lost
Marion didn’t know how long she had been walking around the moors. Bells was making progress, walking swiftly forward despite the rain and rocky grounds. Marion didn’t even try to steer her, but instead, trusted that Bells would make her way in the right direction.
When the rain stopped and morning came, she would be able to read her map and to make way towards the border of England.
Shivering in her already soaked clothes, she thought about her own bedroom back in England. The warm and dry clothes, big fireplace and Miss Keenan, who would take care of her. It would be nice to have someone there for her, nursing her and helping her. When she got back home, she could let the tears fall, she could be sad and mourn the love she had lost.
At home, she would be able to fall back into her familiar old habits. Her heart might not be with her anymore, as she had left it in Gille Chriost with Fionnghall. But at least, she would be able to go on the surface, doing mindless tasks day by day until the day she died.
But now was not the time for thinking about it. It was getting colder and Marion heard the rumble of a thunderstorm. It was getting closer and as it did, the rain picked up yet again. It was now pouring down and Marion started feeling weak.
Bells didn’t slow down. She took steady steps one after another. The thunder rumbled above them. The rain didn’t let up. It was like Mother Earth was going to wash away Scotland away. Marion couldn’t help but feel that even the thunderstorm and rain were her fault. Something that she deserved.
Suddenly, a bright lightning bolt that was accompanied by a loud crack and rumble in the sky hit a tall tree only a few yards from her. Bells let out a neigh and reared up on her hind legs. It caught Marion by a surprise and she felt herself slipping down from the saddle.
She fell onto the hard, rocky ground and hit her head. Marion felt a warm rush of blood running down her head.
“Bells!” she yelled, but her white horse was already gone. She could hear the fading hoof steps in the rain. “No…” she whispered. Without Bells, the travel would be impossible.
But Marion wasn’t going to give up. She stood up and pressed her hand against her head. It turned red from the blood and she felt the sticky blood running down the side of her face.
“I have to get home,” she mumbled, feeling the coldness now even more than before.
Her head was thumping and her vision was starting to get blurry. Giving up wasn’t an option. It wasn’t like she could just stay here in the cold, in the middle of the unforgiving moors.
She kept on going, one step at a time. The cold air and wetness had burrowed into her bones and she was shaking all over. Marion was starting to get dizzy and now it was hard to see. And the rain didn’t help. Without warning, she felt a rush of darkness flow over her and she fell into the darkness.
* * *
Deirdre woke up early. She skipped out of the room and knocked on Marion’s door. There was no answer, so she knocked louder. It was curious that Marion didn’t wake up to her knocking. She had already been asleep for a long time, having gone to bed early.
“Marion! Wake up!” Deirdre said softly through the door. There was still no answer.
Oh, she won’t mind if I just go in.
Deirdre entered Marion’s room and to her surprise, the fire had died in the fireplace. Then, her eyes met the empty bed that clearly hadn’t been slept in. There was a neatly folded letter on the bed, addressed to her.
“Marion?” she called, unsure.
She grabbed the letter and folded it open. As she read Marion’s words on the piece of paper, her feet went numb and her hands started trembling. Her eyes filled with tears and it started to get harder to see the words.
Deirdre couldn’t believe the words she read. They simply could not be true. Marion wouldn’t leave like this, not without saying goodbye. And everything was going so well! Fionnghall had a plan.
The letter fell on the floor from her shaking hands and her legs gave out from underneath her. She sat on Marion’s bed and the tears kept falling down her face. A cry escaped her lips. She was shocked to her core. She never expected Marion to do anything like this.
How could she do this to me? How could she do this to him? What was she thinking? How is she even suppos
ed to find the way home? She was lost when she came here, for Lord’s sake.
Deirdre’s mind was filled with hurt and possible scenarios about what could happen to Marion. She was all alone and by herself out in the moors that she didn’t know. She could get hurt or lost. Or both! What if the Highlanders found her, the ones that didn’t respect women? Or worse, what if English soldiers caught her?
Deirdre wasn’t sure how long she had sat on Maron’s bed, but when she snapped back to reality, the rays of the sun were above the horizon and she heard steps and chattering from the yard. Everyone was awake.
Me brother!
Captivating A Highland Warrior (Steamy Scottish Historical Romance) Page 19
