The Scot's Angel

by Keira Montclair

Once she dropped her hand from his face, he stood up, moving over to Grandmama’s side again. “Maddie still has much to teach me. We’ve been watching this trip, making sure all is well with everyone. Once we get you settled, we’ll have other work to do. Will we not, Maddie?”

  “Aye.” She looked over at Claray. “You see, we try to guide all of you to do the right things.”

  “You do? Then why did you allow my mother to get hurt? Her leg is broken, and she is in so much pain. Why didn’t you stop it?”

  “We did what we could,” Grandsire said, wrapping his arm around his wife. “Didn’t we, Maddie? Explain it to her. I don’t know exactly how to make her understand yet. I have much to learn.”

  “We cannot change destiny, but we can encourage you to do certain things. Put suggestions in your head, give you a wee push or feeling.”

  That gave her an idea. If her grandparents knew so much, perhaps they knew what had become of Thorn.

  “Why did Thorn leave me? Is he hurt?”

  Grandmama came forward and patted her arm. “We gave him a wee nudge. We cannot explain it to you, but you’ll understand when this is all over. He has something he needs to settle within himself, so we hope he’ll be successful in his quest.” She gave Claray a serious look. “Promise me that if you ever get an inkling that you should do something, you’ll listen.”

  “If you say so.”

  “Grandsire and I will be the ones doing the nudging, helping you along. Some of our descendants will listen, others will not. That is out of our hands. We couldn’t stop your mother from falling, but Grandsire did what he could to help because he was right there.”

  Eyes rounding, Claray said, “You were there? What happened?”

  “I gave her a nudge in the air so she would land on the sack full of fabric. If she’d landed on the stone, it could have killed her. I’m sorry she broke her leg, but it will mend.”

  Midnight poked his head inside the cave and snorted.

  As if on cue, Maddie handed him an apple. “You did a fine job of finding her and getting Alex back here, Midnight. You’ll get two. Here’s your first one.”

  “But how could you do all those things… How did you find me?”

  “Never mind, Claray,” her grandmama said. “I didn’t save you many years ago to have you die in a storm. You have bairns yet to be born. You must find Thorn. He is your soulmate. We would find him for you if we could, but we’ll not be allowed to stay for long.”

  Her dearest beloved grandparents, who had saved her from the evil men of the Channel of Dubh, had saved her yet again.

  “You are such a lovely young lady with a big heart,” Grandmama said, leaning into Grandsire’s arm. “’Tis what we love most about you. I’m afraid we must move on, sweeting.”

  “Nay, please don’t leave me.” She lurched to her feet and attempted to grasp her grandmama’s hand, but it slipped out of her grip. “I’m all alone, and I know not how to get to Cameron land.”

  “You’ll be fine here. Your grandfather found your sack and put it right over there.” She pointed in the corner. “Everything in it is dry. There are apples and oatcakes in that sack next to it, enough to feed you until they find you. And they will. Just promise me something.”

  “Anything, Grandmama.”

  “Promise me you’ll stay put. Do not move from this cave until the storm is over, other than to take care of your needs. They will find you. Your sister is devastated they lost you, so she will come before too long. You brought your drawing tools, did you not?”

  “Aye, they’re in my sack if they’re not ruined.”

  Grandmama patted her cheek. “They’re not ruined. Just sit and draw pictures until they come. You remember how I taught you? You became quite skilled after all your practice, and you have those new tools Aunt Jennie brought you.”

  Claray spun around to face her grandsire. “Wait, please. Grandsire, just tell me that you’re happy. Please? I need to know. I miss you both so much. Can you not return for a while?”

  Alex Grant cupped her cheeks, his large hands warming her through and through. “Nay, lass. I’m where I belong. You’ll see us again when your time comes, but you have many years left to live. I want you to stop worrying and go after the man you love so you can find your happiness.”

  “Thorn?”

  “Aye, he’s a fine man. Find your happiness the way I found mine.”

  Her grandmama ushered her to the back of the cave, where she lay down with warm furs, her mantle hanging near the dying fire to dry. “Many thanks to both of you. I love and miss you so much.”

  Maddie bent down and smoothed a few stray hairs back from her forehead. “But look how many more people you have around you to love. You’re a special auntie to two lassies already, and there will be more, including some children of your own. Hush, child. Close your eyes. Draw your pictures until you are found.”

  Grandsire wrapped his arm around his wife’s waist, and the two disappeared.

  Claray closed her eyes with a sigh. It was probably just a delirious dream, but it was a sweet one, and she was warm and safe.

  ***

  They were nearing the abbey, and the storm was now a blizzard. Snow threatened to blind him, and the buffeting winds seeped into his bones. If the snow would fall a wee bit harder, he could bolt away from them and find his way to Cameron land faster than they could catch him.

  He wrapped his plaid up over his head, glad he had a short beard to help warm his face, the ice crystals brutal in their assault on his skin. Closing his eyes whenever he could, he forced himself to peek at those around him.

  He glanced over his shoulder and was surprised to see how far back Ewan was behind him. If he found the right moment, he’d bolt, and apologize to Connor later for being foolish enough to lose his beloved sword.

  About a quarter hour later, he found his chance. Henry’s horse bucked, sending him into a snow drift, and the horse behind him stopped dead, giving Umfrey a struggle to hang on. Ewan’s horse, in the back, was still far away, and the forest was close, so Thorn tugged on the reins and flew off into the distance.

  The weather conditions were so bad, he knew they’d never find him, and he hoped to get himself to Lochluin Abbey from here. He’d just have to hide until he got there.

  The Cameron keep was far enough beyond the abbey that he wouldn’t try to reach it until the storm slowed. It seemed to take about half the day, but he finally reached the stables at Lochluin Abbey. He dismounted and knocked on the closed gate, hoping someone was inside to let him in. Two men pushed the large door open wide enough to allow him entry with his horse. “Many thanks to you for allowing me in. I’m just looking for a night’s lodging against the storm or until I can make it to Cameron keep.”

  The two men closed the gate again and padlocked it. “You have a Grant plaid, so you are welcome here anytime. We’ll take care of your horse, and they’ll give you a bed inside. Take that side door.” The man pointed behind him. “The path, if you can find it, leads straight to the abbey. Wait in the foyer, and the abbess will find you a place to sleep and offer you a bowl of stew and warm broth to drink. Not much, but enough to keep you going.”

  He nodded his thanks, but then stopped. “Has anyone else come by here recently?”

  “Nay, we’ve seen no one,” the man said, leading his horse down to a bucket of oats.

  “Beware, there is a group of three reivers headed this way. They think they can find your coffers.”

  The stable master chuckled and said, “Many thanks for the information, but ’tis not unusual. They all think they will find the magic way past our guards, our locks, and our secret doors, but no one has managed it yet. Go ahead and go inside. You look quite frozen. We’ll take care of the reivers.”

  He did as the man suggested and left, hoping they could indeed handle Henry if the thieves managed to find their way here in the storm. It was a short walk, but no less difficult for it, and he was cold down to his bones by the time he got into the
front chamber of the abbey. Shaking the snow off his clothing, he waited for a few moments, and an older woman emerged in long, flowing black robes. “My, but you look much like a snowman. I’m Abbess Mary. Your name?”

  “Thorn Taylor of Clan Grant.”

  “Ah, any member of Clan Grant is welcome. Where are you headed in this fierce storm?”

  “To Cameron land to visit Aedan and Jennie Cameron, but I didn’t know if I could make it much farther this eve. Many thanks for your hospitality.”

  The abbess smiled. “Two of my verra favorite people. Come inside. Did you say your name was Taylor?”

  “Aye, Thorn Taylor.” Thorn cupped his hands in front of his mouth, blowing his hot breath onto his half-frozen fingertips. “Many thanks, Abbess.”

  “I’ll lead you to your chamber down this passageway. There is a chamber at the end where you can get a basin of fresh water, as we always have a barrel there. I’ll send someone down in a short time with some stew and broth to drink. We have no ale.”

  “That would be greatly appreciated.”

  “There are a few monks’ robes in that chamber if you are in the need of dry clothing. You’re welcome to wear them overnight as long as you remember to leave them here in the morning. This storm is quite fierce. I don’t know if you’ll be able to leave on the morrow, even to Cameron land. I’ll leave you in peace. But if you’d like to dry your clothing, you’re welcome to hang anything near the hearth in the large chamber off the foyer, down the other passageway from where we started. You need only follow the sound and warmth. ’Tis the only place we keep a fire going overnight in this wing. Use it as you wish.”

  The abbess left, so Thorn peeled off his mantle and hung it on the wall before taking his plaid off and shaking it. He thought perhaps he’d accept her invitation and hang the two pieces up near the hearth. He had another tunic and plaid so he’d don that and let the others dry.

  He found his way to the fire, following the sound of the crackling wood. It was empty except for an old man throwing wood into the hearth. Thorn hung his clothing and said, “I’d be glad to do that for you.”

  The old man turned around and said, “Nay, ’tis my job. State your name, please.”

  “Thorn.” He noticed an apple in a basket, so he helped himself to one. He bit into it, reveling in the sweet taste. His stomach grumbled its appreciation for the food. It had been awhile since he’d last eaten.

  A strange sound caught him, something uttered by the old man, who now stood in front of the hearth with his hand on the mantel as if to steady himself. He slowly turned around, picked up a long walking stick propped next to the hearth and placed it in front of him in a way that indicated he could not see.

  Tears rolled down the old man’s cheek.

  “Forgive me, did I say something wrong? I’ll leave you alone.”

  “Nay, do not. Your name brought back memories of someone I knew long ago.” He stood up straight, though his shoulders were a slight bit hunched, then moved forward, his stick moving back and forth in front of him. When it hit the edge of a chair, he turned to go in a different direction.

  Thorn watched him, fascinated. He’d never met anyone who was blind before. “May I help you find your destination? What is your name?”

  “Nay, I can find my own way. I’ve done it for years, and I know this abbey verra well. Many thanks for your offer, but ’tis not necessary.”

  Something about the man was familiar. “Your name, sir?”

  The man stopped and turned halfway back to answer him.

  “Fulk. Fulk Taylor.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Dyna burst inside the door of the Cameron keep, her belly in knots. Uncle Aedan came over right away. “Dyna, you’ve gone out looking three times. I think ’tis time to give up until the storm quits.”

  “But she’s my sister. She’ll not survive out there alone.” She tossed her mantle onto a peg by the door and hurried over to the large hearth. “I don’t know what to do. How could we have lost her? She was there, and then she wasn’t.” Tears streamed down her face, and she rubbed her hands together in front of the hearth. “How will I ever be able to tell our mother?”

  Derric came inside after her, followed by four of the guards. “In this weather, we’ll all stay inside.” The other two were settling the horses.

  Brin Cameron came in directly behind them, knocking the snow off his boots. “We’ve searched the entire area. She must be holing up in one of the caves. We’ll find her on the morrow.”

  “Or dead in a snowbank,” Dyna wailed.

  “Wife, if she were dead in a snowbank, we’d have already found her,” Derric said. He reached for her, rubbing her back, something that would usually comfort her, but today it did not.

  “You don’t understand,” she said, her voice coming out hoarse. “Claray is different, she’s special. When she was a wee lassie, those awful men kept her locked up inside dark chambers. She only got to see Mama once a moon. Poor Claray lived that way for three years. She’s not tough and hardy like the rest of us. She’s different, but I love her so. I shouldn’t have brought her. I gave in because the thought of marrying Thorn makes her so happy.” She paced and then ran over to bury her face in Derric’s shoulder.

  Riley, Aunt Jennie’s youngest daughter, came running down the staircase, so fast she nearly tripped. “Dyna, I just had a vision. She’s fine. I couldn’t tell where she was, but someone covered her up with furs, left her a bag of apples and told her to stay there until you came.”

  “Who?”

  “That I cannot tell you. But she’s fine. Warm, safe, and fed. Her saddlebag was next to her, so she even has a change of clothing.”

  Derric rubbed the scruff on his chin. “Truly? Do you believe all of your dreams are true?”

  Hope lit a torch inside Dyna, and she looked to Tara, Riley’s sister coming down the staircase. “Tara?”

  “Riley has many dreams, and nearly all of them come true. Occasionally, she sees one or two details incorrectly, but I don’t think it would apply in this case. I would trust Claray has found her way into the cave and has her saddlebag, which carried enough in it to keep her warm. You know some of our caves. One is near a mineral spring and is quite warm. I think we all need some sleep.”

  Aedan came in and wrapped an arm around his daughter’s shoulders. “Aye, she speaks true. And the morrow will give us much snow to shovel. We’ll not get the horses through this until we clear a path. Jennie and I created a tool that we put in front of one of the warhorses to make a narrow path through the snow.”

  Dyna didn’t care anything about the snow mover, she only cared that Riley had seen Claray, and her sister was safe. Exhaustion dragged her down, so she moved to the table, accepting a bowl of warm stew and bread brought out by a servant. “I need to eat something, and then I’m going to sleep. Where, Uncle Aedan?”

  “You may have the chamber at the top of the staircase. Your men can sleep on pallets in the hall. I’ll have the lasses bring out more stew and broth. There is a mighty cold wind this eve. Make sure your shutters are latched. The furs can be hooked at the bottom so they won’t blow about. Keeps the cold out.”

  Derric sat next to her, moving one of the bowls over for himself. Dyna leaned against his shoulder and almost immediately felt her eyes fluttering shut. He chuckled and kissed her forehead. “Lass sleeps better than any man I know.”

  ***

  Thorn fell into the closest chair, staring in shock at the man who’d just admitted to being his father. He scanned his face slowly, looking for anything that reminded him of his sire. He’d been six or seven at the time of his disappearance. Once he was confident his legs would hold him, he stood up and moved toward him. “Fulk? ’Tis truly you?”

  “Aye, what of it?” the man asked.

  “Did you not have a son? A son named Thorn?” Thorn held his breath, awaiting the confirmation he no longer truly needed. He knew it because of the man’s facial structure and that scar by his eye.
His father had always had a scar above his right eye from when he was a lad.

  It was still there.

  “What do you know of him?”

  Thorn ran a hand down his face, a small part of him grateful that his sire couldn’t see how this situation affected him. “Papa,” he whispered. “’Tis me. Do you not recognize me at all?”

  “I’m blind. How can I recognize you?”

  He stepped closer to the old man and took his hand, placing it on the top of his head. “There. Do you recall when I hit my head and bled for nearly two days?”

  The man’s fingers palpated the top of his head. “Thorn? Truly? I thought you were dead.” Then his fingers traveled down Thorn’s face, feeling his eyes, his nose, his cheekbones. His sightless eyes filled with tears, his hands moving from Thorn’s face to his shoulders and his arms. “’Tis you. ’Tis truly you. You are a strong man now, with big muscles. When I returned, I looked for you everywhere I traveled.”

  “They told me you were dead, Papa, that you died at sea with the men from the Channel of Dubh.”

  His father frowned. “Aye, they were all liars. They tried to kill me, but I washed up on an island. Didn’t leave for a few years. When I returned to Edinburgh, they said you and Nari were gone. Dead.”

  “Nay. We were adopted into Clan Grant. Lived good lives in the Highlands.”

  Tears began to travel down his sire’s cheek, so he grasped his father’s shoulders and hugged him. “I missed you, Da. ’Twas hard for us the first couple of years.”

  “Nari? He is hale?”

  “Aye, his sire was killed, or so we were told, but we stayed together, met up with the warriors of Clan Grant in Berwick. They took us in.” His sire did not look like he remembered him, but it was him. Somehow it was him.

  “Thorn, forgive me,” his sire said, his voice thick with emotion. “I didn’t mean to leave you for long. I planned to make some coin, enough to make our home larger and buy some nice things, but those men lied to me. Many apologies for what I put you through.” Then he rubbed the gray whiskers on his chin. “Clan Grant. You must have learned to be a fine warrior.”