The Scot's Angel

by Keira Montclair

  ***

  Thorn pushed his horse until he knew it was cruel to continue. He found a stream and led the beast over for some quick refreshment, stopping to throw some water on his own face, too. An apple tree sat not far away, so he picked as many as he could, stuffing them into his saddle bag and handing one to his horse. “You deserve it. Forgive me for pushing you so hard.”

  Then he sat down and chewed on an apple of his own.

  Where was he headed? He had no idea, but Sela’s screams had pushed him out of the keep. He thought of Claray and how upset she’d be that he had left, but surely her mother and father wouldn’t want him around anymore.

  Nari would miss him and probably Loki, too, but no one else would be sorry to see him go.

  Except…if he didn’t return, he’d be backing out of his pursuit of Claray’s hand in marriage. The life he’d always dreamed of would slip through his fingers like so much sand. At the same time, he couldn’t bear the thought of seeing Sela’s pains, of hearing more of her cries, and knowing her suffering was his doing. Guilt would invade his senses, something that he was terrible at handling.

  He had a solution. He’d send word back that he was going to search for his sire and would return in two moons. It felt like sheer madness to go now, after all these years, yet something told him he should. He didn’t understand it, but he believed he should follow the pull.

  Supposedly, his sire had died at sea. Part of him believed it, but he’d always wondered. Mayhap it was time to satisfy his curiosity. The search would also keep him away for long enough to miss Yule, and Sela would be well by the time he returned. He hoped Claray would wait for him.

  Pleased that he’d thought of a sound plan, he had to come up with a way to reach the Grants. If he could find someone headed that way, he could ask them to stop at the castle and let them know he would return after Yule.

  Lochluin Abbey. That was where he needed to go before he journeyed to Edinburgh, where his father was last seen. At least he’d have one night beneath a roof, something he knew enough to appreciate. He and Nari had been orphaned at a young age, and he remembered those awful days when they had been forced to sleep in the cold or the rain. He knew the Camerons well, and if he didn’t manage to find a messenger before then, they would surely send one for him.

  He apologized to his horse and gave him another apple before mounting. If he wanted to get to the abbey the next night, he’d have to put in more traveling today.

  Once the sun fell, he knew he had to find a spot to sleep. A path branched off the main one, so he followed it to a small hill next to a loch with a solid outcropping he could sleep under. Exhausted, he dismounted and strode along the trail, looking up at the stars as he walked. The sky was full of fast-moving clouds, but the moon shone through them every once in a while.

  His thoughts always returned to Claray, sweet Claray who’d tasted like cinnamon and felt so right in his arms. True, he’d kissed others, and after Claray agreed to the betrothal with Cordell, he’d even had a short relationship with another orphan, Darby. But his heart hadn’t been in it, and neither had hers, because she’d left without a word. Her departure had upset him, but it had pained his pride more than his heart. No one knew why she’d left, but Loki’s castle was not restrictive. They often found orphans wandering and invited them in. Some only stayed briefly. Others stayed a lifetime.

  A lifetime.

  He wanted to spend the rest of his life with Claray. He was convinced she was his person, his wife to be. And if they were fortunate, maybe they’d be blessed with a bairn or two, even at their advanced ages.

  The night was cool, so he started a fire. There was a danger of attracting unwanted creatures, but if he let it burn out, the embers would keep him warm through most of the night. Grateful he’d been sound enough to grab an extra fur and a couple of plaids before he left, he ate his oatcakes and apples, then tucked in for the night, his horse tied to a tree not far away.

  He fell asleep quickly, hoping he’d sleep until dawn, but that wasn’t to happen. Instead, he awakened to a dagger at his throat.

  A scruffy man in an old, unidentifiable plaid said, “Well, now. What have we here, lads? We have a lost Grant man, do we not?”

  Two men stood behind him, all eyes focused on Thorn. He said nothing, waiting to see what they wanted. His sword was hidden under the fur so they couldn’t have taken it yet.

  “Have you any coin for us, Grant warrior?”

  “Nay,” he said. “I’m a warrior. I carry no coin.”

  “Where are you headed?”

  “To Edinburgh to see my sire.”

  The man pulled his dagger away from Thorn’s throat and said, “’Tis exactly where we are headed, so we wish to bring you along with us.”

  “Why?” He couldn’t help but rub his throat, grateful to have the cold metal away from his skin. They could easily kill him, strip him of all his clothing, and take his horse. He’d be left for the buzzards. It occurred to him belatedly that he should at least have asked Nari to come along.

  “Henry, is it not the Grants who have ties to the abbey?” asked one of the men standing behind the leader.

  The man apparently named Henry was the one who’d held the dagger to his throat. “Ewan, you make a good point. I think he does have the connections to get us inside the abbey.”

  “I thought you were headed to Edinburgh.” He sat up and pushed a wee bit away from them, making sure to hide his sword. But they all had swords in their sheaths, too. Regardless of their fighting ability, or lack thereof, one man against three was not good odds. Perhaps he should do as they asked until they arrived at the abbey. Then he’d have a chance to sneak away.

  “We are, after we go to Lochluin Abbey. And you could be just what we need to guarantee our success.” Henry smiled, rubbing his long beard. “Good thinking, Ewan.”

  Ewan smiled, his two missing teeth evident. “Aye. With his help, we’ll all be wealthy this Yule.”

  “Wealthy?” Thorn asked. He knew nothing about the abbey’s finances, but he’d gone there often as a young lad. The abbey was guarded by the Camerons, long-time allies of the Grants. On more than one occasion, Connor and Loki had made the journey together, along with their wives and children. Claray, Nari, and Thorn would often play together. They’d loved finding their way through the maze of passageways, even into the cellars, though Claray hated dark, damp places, and Sela would never come down the stairs after them. Exploring buildings was one of his favorite things to do.

  Henry chuckled. “We’ll steal their coin to fund our trip to Edinburgh.”

  “And if you help us,” Ewan added, “we’ll leave you be and go on our way. If you don’t, we’ll kill you right now. What’s your choice, warrior?”

  Thorn swallowed hard, knowing he’d have to go along with them to give himself a chance to escape or best them.

  “Looks as though I’ll be traveling with you.”

  “Wise man. And once you hand over that fine Grant sword and your dagger, we’ll leave.”

  Thorn had no choice, but his insides churned beyond belief. Unfortunately, they’d done the one thing that guaranteed he would follow.

  They’d taken the sword Connor Grant had ordered made just for him, and he’d never leave until he got it back.

  Chapter Eight

  Claray was beside herself with worry. If Thorn would just return, she would relax. It had been two long days, and there’d been no word from him. Loki was heading back to Castle Curanta with his warriors, so Nari had promised they’d search for Thorn on the way back.

  “We’ll find him, fear not,” Loki had told her.

  Nari had stood nodding behind Loki. “And when we do, I promise to send a missive back letting you know that he’s hale. You’ll see him at Yule. I promise. He loves Yule. ’Tis his favorite time of the year because of all the food.”

  Loki had chuckled and said, “Thorn has been with Clan Grant for a long time. He wouldn’t leave us willingly. He may go off fo
r a jaunt now and then, but he always returns. If anything will bring him back, ’tis you, lass. Worry no more on it because the man loves to eat. He’ll be here for the pheasant, the stew, and the fruit pies. And you,” he added with a wink.

  They’d taken their leave shortly after breaking their fast, and Claray’s heart had dropped into the pit of her belly. She needed someone to talk to, desperately, but who? Dyna hadn’t returned yet, her mother was hurt, and her father was traumatized over her mother. Astra was too young for these kinds of discussions.

  She felt more helpless than ever.

  It was the middle of the afternoon when she heard a fuss rise up near the gates. She ran out of the keep to see who had arrived, and much to her delight, it was Aunt Jennie. There wasn’t a sweeter soul on this land than Jennie Grant Cameron, and her healing touch had helped so many of them…just like Claray hoped it would help her mother.

  “Aunt Jennie. How was your journey? I hope Dyna did not rush you too much.”

  Aunt Jennie was helped down by Jamie, who set her carefully on her feet. “Nay, I’m always at the ready. My brothers and sister have given me such a large family to take care of that I learned long ago to have my healer’s bag always packed, plus an overnight bag. That has served me verra well over the years. I’ve also learned that when it comes to bones, the sooner the better.”

  “Mama is still in much pain. She’s in Grandpapa’s chamber, sleeping.”

  “’Tis a fine place for her. Take me to her, will you, my dear? Your sister is settling the horses.”

  Claray spun around and led Aunt Jennie through the hall and straight to her mother. Her father, who’d sat by her mother’s bedside since the accident, bolted out of his chair. “My thanks for coming so quickly, Aunt Jennie. Can you help her?”

  “I’ll do whatever I can, Connor.”

  Claray backed up to the door. “May I get you anything, Auntie?”

  “A bowl of broth would be lovely. Something to warm my bones. ’Tis getting quite chilly outside.”

  Papa said, “Find her some bread and cheese with it, Claray.”

  Happy to oblige them, she hurried out the door, pleased to see Aunt Kyla. “Papa wants broth and some bread or cheese for Aunt Jennie. I’m going to the kitchens.”

  She was on her way there, when Dyna swung the door open and entered in a huff. “Oh, are you going to the kitchens? Something for me, too, please.”

  “Dyna, have you seen Thorn?” She was so anxious, she had to ask about him as soon as possible or her heart would beat out of her chest.

  “I’ll go to the kitchens,” Aunt Kyla said, following her and putting a hand on her shoulder. “I wish to confer with Cook anyway. You visit with your sister, Claray.”

  Filled with gratitude, she hugged her aunt impulsively before chasing after Dyna, who’d continued on to the hearth and stood warming herself. “Are the lassies sleeping?”

  “Aye, I just put them down for their naps.” She stared at her sister, saying a quick prayer that Dyna would have good news, but the wee feeling in her gut told her she didn’t. “Have you seen him, Dyna?”

  “Thorn? Nay. Why?”

  “He left after the accident and hasn’t returned. No one has seen him yet. I don’t know what to do.” Though she tried to stop the constant wiping of her damp palms on her skirt, she failed horribly.

  Dyna let out a deep sigh. “I don’t know what you can do, Claray. If Thorn doesn’t wish to be found, there are plenty of places in the Highlands for him to hide. We saw Loki’s group leaving, but we saw no one else, and Thorn was not with them.”

  “Will you and Derric go look for him?”

  “Claray, we just traveled harder than I’ve ridden since battle. I’m not going anywhere until the morrow. I want to kiss my lassies when they wake up. Could be he returned to Castle Curanta. If that’s the case, Loki will let you know, I’m sure. Give it a day or two.”

  She hadn’t thought of that. It was certainly possible he’d headed straight back to his home because he was so upset over all that had transpired here. Claray nodded, knowing it made perfect sense, but it wasn’t what her heart told her to do.

  Her heart told her to go to him.

  But Dyna was right. She was no fighter or adventurer. There was little she could do, so she took herself to her tower room and gathered her drawing things. While her sister and many of her cousins preferred to practice at the archery field, her source of comfort was in drawing.

  Her grandmama was the one who’d taught her to draw, a slow, painstaking process that Claray had reveled in. Grandmama had worked with her often, and the result of all that work showed. Every drawing she made was, in her heart, for her grandmamma. It was her way of thanking the woman who had made such a difference in her life. The woman who had, singlehandedly, plucked her from the arms of the men who had tormented her and used her against her mama.

  Even though Madeline Grant was gone, she would live on in Claray’s heart forever.

  Now Grandsire was gone too, and Claray missed him terribly. One of her goals this Yule was to draw a picture of him. She’d worked at it over and over, hoping to get it right, but he refused to be captured in a mere picture.

  She worked on it for some time, so focused she had no notion of how much time was passing, when a knock on the door interrupted her work. “Enter.”

  Aunt Jennie came in, carrying a small package wrapped in twine. “I brought you a wee gift.”

  “How is Mama? Did you fix her?” She set her materials down in their storage box to give her aunt her complete attention.

  “She’ll be better in time. Gracie and Merelda did a fine job straightening the bone, so I only had to make a slight adjustment before I wrapped her leg up tightly.”

  “Are you leaving right away?” She adored her auntie, so she hoped the answer would be no. They did not get enough time together.

  “Nay, I’ll stay a few more days, mayhap a sennight, just to make sure the bone doesn’t move. You must help her whenever you can, especially for the next sennight. Once the bone begins to heal on its own, it’s less likely to move. Bones are quite magical, you see. They will fix themselves, though it takes time. And once it finally heals, your mother will be afraid to use it at first. You’ll have to help her when that time comes. Go ahead and open your package.”

  “Aunt Jennie, you did not need to bring me a gift.”

  “I’ve had this wrapped for a while. Aedan had another batch shipped in, and I thought you could put it to good use.”

  She untied the twine and pulled the wrapping back carefully. There were two parts to the gift. One was a sheaf of paper, so rare it was as precious as any gem to Claray. Aunt Jennie had given some to her before, for Uncle Aedan periodically had it shipped in from Europe so that Jennie might chronicle her healing adventures.

  The second gift was in another box. She looked at it and then back at her aunt because she had no idea what could be inside.

  “Open it. Go ahead,” her aunt prompted.

  She took the cover off the box and peered inside. There were various chunks and a few different colored sticks. “Many thanks to you, Aunt Jennie, but what are they?”

  “You know how much the ink stains if you’re not careful? This is chalk. Aedan had quite a bit of it shipped to us. Their natural form is in the earth and artists search for the right size and shapes to cut into sticks they can use in their artistry. Some are from Germany. ’Twill allow you to add color to your drawings.”

  Her eyes widened. “I don’t know quite what to say. What an amazing gift. Thank you, Aunt Jennie.”

  “I brought wee gifts for everyone, so don’t feel that I slighted anyone, but yours is extra special.” She giggled and left.

  The door barely had a chance to close before it sprung open again, and Dyna flew in. “Mama is sleeping beautifully. Aunt Jennie fixed her perfectly. So I have some thoughts.”

  “Go ahead.” She concealed her need to beg Dyna to find Thorn. Past experience had indeed told her th
at her sister would do nearly anything to help her. Dyna had her own family to worry about, and the last thing she wished to do was take her away from her children at Yule.

  “We’ll wait until the day after morrow, and if you haven’t heard anything about Thorn, Derric and I will go look for him. And if we don’t find him, we’ll return to escort Aunt Jennie back home, and we can search the area around Cameron land.”

  “May I come along?”

  Dyna thought for a moment, but then nodded. “Aye, you may come along. We’ll be bringing plenty of guards, and I know you wouldn’t consider staying home. What’s in the box?” She glanced at the gift Claray was putting away.

  “More drawing tools. Something new from Germany. I’ll try them later. I wish to visit with Mama.” She rushed over to Dyna and threw her arms around her neck. “My thanks. I can wait a day. We should know by then if he was at Castle Curanta. I fear…I…”

  “What, Claray? Just say it.”

  She took a deep breath, and in a whoosh said, “I think I’m in love with Thorn.”

  Her sister smiled and said, “Then we better find him.”

  She hugged her sister again. “I can’t lose him now, Dyna.”

  Nay, she’d already lost too much.

  Chapter Nine

  Thorn had kept his mouth clamped shut for the most part. They were headed to Lochluin Abbey, but they were definitely taking the long way around, stopping to steal where they could. When they knocked out four reivers just to take their food, he knew he’d be pressured to contribute before long.

  “What skills have you, big Grant warrior? You need to help us find food if you want to eat,” Ewan said.

  “Give me my sword, and I’ll help.” While he doubted they’d fall for it, he had to try.

  Ewan just laughed. “Sorry, but I like it. You’ll not get it back. Find another way to be useful.”

  Henry watched the exchange with a narrowed gaze but said nothing. The other man had yet to speak. He just smiled frequently, an unpleasant sort of smile from a large man. Thorn must have given him an odd look, because Ewan had noticed and said, “Umfrey don’t talk, but he’s our best fighter. Ignore him.”