by Leela Ash
Left alone in the quiet night air, Andrea began to weep for the loss of Alex as the reality hit her. She had only known him briefly, but it seemed like years, and the grief was very real. She could understand why Helena thought she was a witch. It was 1645 for crying out loud, and people had funny ideas about the devil, but how on earth could she convince her otherwise? As she wept into her cloak, she heard footsteps approach. It was Geraldina, and taking her by the arm, she ushered Andrea back into the warmth. The young nun had lit a new fire and several of the candles. Andrea shivered. She hadn’t realized how tired and cold she was.
The tears still ran down her face as she undressed and put on her nightgown, remembering her last night here with Alex. Without him, what would become of her and the child? Without the rune, she may never return home.
Tucked up in bed, Geraldina brought her a draught of the bitter herbal medicine. She trusted the young girl and drank it straight down. She had to think about the baby now and how they could survive. It wasn’t long until she was in a deep sleep and dreaming.
She was standing in the middle of a battle zone, and there were Highlanders and English men fighting all around her, but she seemed to be a ghost and able to pass through them, unharmed. And although the battle raged fiercely on all sides of her, there was no noise except for the melancholy whine of a lone piper. A mist appeared and someone was calling her name. No, not her name—Andra’s. She recognized the voice; it was Alex calling out to her through the void. As the mist rose, she could see him, battle worn and bloody but not dead.
“Wait for me, Andra,” he was saying, over and over again.
When she awoke, she felt calmer as if Alex had really been with her. Maybe there was still hope, but she would keep it to herself.
She expected Geraldina to bring her breakfast and was surprised when Helena opened the door with her meal. She braced herself for another onslaught of venom.
Placing the tray on the bed, Helena walked over to the window.
“Andra, I am deeply sorry about last night. The news of my brother’s loss hit me strongly and I spoke out of turn. I have not been as welcoming to you as perhaps I should have, and I think that I should start to make amends, especially as you are carrying his child. After breakfast, come walking with me. The air will do us both good.”
It was a struggle for the older woman to say the words, and her face twisted with every vowel. She was trying hard to be pleasant, but her manner left Andrea cold. Still, if Helena could make the effort, then so could she.
The girl smiled and nodded. “I could do with some air and exercise too. I will come to you after I have dressed.”
Andrea ate up her breakfast. She needed to keep up her strength. Then, pulling on her layers of stockings and tunic to keep warm, she wrapped a large woolen blanket around her shoulders to keep off the chill from the sea air. Helena was already waiting for her by the door, and the two women set off into the bright winter air.
Together they walked over the brow of the Island to the northern-most point, the “Bay of the Breaking Waves,” the locals called it. The view was spectacular and the women walked on in silence, each one thinking of Alex in their own way. As they rounded the hill, Andrea began to break out into a sweat, becoming breathless before the pains started in her abdomen. Clutching her belly, she shouted out to Helena who was walking slightly ahead of her. By the time Helena had turned around, Andrea had already slipped to the stony ground, writhing in agony.
The Abbess walked over to the girl, a strange look upon her face. She was about to speak when a voice called out to them in the distance, and a small black figure approached them. It was Geraldina, who, noticing that Andrea had not taken her cloak, followed the two women to bring the garment.
“Geraldina, come quick, the young mistress is unwell, and we need to get her back to the nunnery as a matter of urgency.”
Slowly and carefully, the two women supported her back to the room. Luckily, they hadn’t walked too far and within half an hour, Andrea was tucked up in her bed with a roaring fire in the grate. The pain had subsided in her stomach, but her heart was racing and she had a fever. The physician had examined her and left another draught of bitter herbs to help her rest.
She slept for the rest of the day, and by suppertime she was feeling much better and sat up in bed to eat a small meal that Helena had brought for her. The Abbess had showed her great kindness that day, and Andrea wondered if she had been wrong to doubt her. It was only when Geraldina came to check on the fire about midnight that anyone realized the attack had happened yet again. After her meal, Andrea had slept only to wake with a raging thirst and a pounding head. As she had tried to get out of bed for a glass of water, the stabbing pains started again and she was too weak to shout for help.
The young nun wet a rag with cold water and laid it on her forehead. Andrea was almost delirious with pain but could see Geraldina smiling kindly down at her. For once the girl spoke.
“Listen to me. There is not much time. Helena is trying to poison you; she does not want you nor the child, now that her brother is dead. She is poisoning you through the food, and I cannot stop her–but I can give you an antidote for the poison. Here, drink this up and you will soon be feeling better.”
The nun went on to pour three drops of a reddish-brown liquid into a goblet and filled the rest with water.
Andrea drank down the potion; it tasted sweet and of berries, and within five minutes the fever had eased and the pains gone.
“You must take three drops of this with water before and after each meal to protect you. Now I must go, I have been here too long.” And leaving a small vial on the bed, the nun left, locking the door behind her.
She was in deadly danger. If Helena was trying to kill her, then she would stop at nothing. Geraldina’s potion would only prolong the inevitable. She had been right all along about Helena. Grandma Betty had returned back to the present on the seeming death of Andra, but then again she had the rune. What would happen if Andrea died without it in her hands?
All night she lay awake, afraid of every noise, of every footstep in case it was Helena’s. She tucked the glass vial under her pillow out of sight. Without the young nun’s help, she would have been dead already. She must keep the faith.
Chapter 12
Andrea eventually slept, for when she finally awoke the rain was lashing down at the window. She was also not alone; Helena was standing at the foot of her bed looking like death herself, dressed in a long black habit.
“I am glad to see that you have had a good night. I am surprised; the doctor thought that you might lose the child again. I have brought you some breakfast to keep up your strength. Some beef tea and bread will do you good, now let me help you.”
Her hand reached under the pillow. The little vial had gone. Her heart started to beat fast as Helena sat by her side and started to pick up the spoon.
“What is wrong, my dear? You look like you have lost something. Now drink some of this, it will do you good.”
Andrea had no choice; if she struggled, then Helena would force her. They were both playing a dangerous game, and Helena currently held the upper hand. Her only hope lay in the hands of Geraldina.
Soon the beef tea was all gone and Helena smiled as she proffered the last spoonful.
“There, all done. Now I will leave you to rest. I have told the other nuns not to disturb you today. I will lock the door and take away the key, just to make sure you rest in peace.”
The key turned in the lock and the sound of footsteps echoed down the corridor until all was still. Was this to be her final fate?
After half an hour, the fever and the pains started anew and within an hour she was almost unconscious with the pain. Her mind kept blanking out, but she concentrated on the pain to keep her awake. The little song kept playing round and round in her head:
Long ago and far away
I dreamed a dream one day
And now that dream is here beside me.
The words came and went as she tried to sing them out loud, tried to remember the tune that the little nun had sung.
Her heart was beating fast, and her breath was rasping in her throat. So this was the end. She thought of Steve and New York, of her Grandma Betty, and of Alex.
Her eyes began to mist. Death was pulling her towards eternal sleep, and there was nothing she could do. As her senses began to shut down, she was aware of a commotion around her. The door had opened and a shadowy figure was in the room. Maybe it was Death paying her a personal visit? But the face was real. It was Alex; he had returned. He was shouting something out loud to another figure behind him.
“What have you done? What have you done?” His voice was desperate.
Soon she could feel a strong arm around her, sitting her up, shaking her, trying to restore life, but it was too late—she was slowly breaking down. The last thing she remembered was a small stone being thrust into her hand before all went black.
At 30,000 feet in the air, it all came flooding back to her. Geraldine MacDonald had found her that morning slumped over a grave in the little Chapel of St. Oran. She had been overdoing it lately, and the stress had taken its toll. Once she was feeling quite well again, the old woman had given her a book on the genealogy of the McDonald clan and not wanting to be rude, she had taken it along with her name and address and telephone number, just in case she happened to be in the area again.
At first she had tried to sleep. She had an aisle seat and was at least able to stretch out her legs. Yet every time she almost dozed off, vivid dreams and imaginings would wake her up. She looked in her carry-on bag. She had nothing to read except the book Geraldine had given her so she casually flicked through the pages to pass the time. On the third page she paused as she read the name of Alexhander McDonald. Her heart stopped as the memories came flooding back in every detail. Surely it had been just a terrible dream, brought on by her grieving state? Maybe she had been influenced by her grandma’s diary. She had always had an active imagination.
She looked at the family tree spread out in the middle pages of the book. There was Alexhander McDonald, married to Andra in 1642. They had a child, Alexhander (dead) in 1644, and another, a girl in 1645. There were no dates of death, only question marks against the entries. The history books couldn’t tell her everything.
Andrea put a hand against her stomach, remembering the pregnancy. Could it be that she was expecting? She had been sick that morning when she returned to the hotel, and she still felt a little queasy. Deep inside her, it all started to make sense. If it had been just a dream, then she wouldn’t be feeling so strongly. Alex had come through for her in the end, just at the right moment. She fished out the small rune from her jeans pocket and held it in her hand. This tiny object connected her past and present; it was her link to the one man she loved and would return to.
In the dark room of the nunnery, Alex McDonald held onto the still, warm body of his beloved Andra. The dawn had just started to break, and a weak sun was rising above the mist. He knew that she was safe and that she would come back to him. As long as he kept holding her, she would not die. Their love was eternal.
THE END
This exciting story continues with Highland’s Dream, available from Amazon now
Vampire Romance
A Mate for the Vampire
Samantha Leal
Copyright ©2016 by Samantha Leal. All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic of mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Thank you so much for your interest in my work
Chapter One
Love at first sight was as unrealistic as unicorns and vampires, at least according to Ginny Night. That was until she saw him. It all happened by chance really. Ginny had been walking down the street, rather late for her first day of her new job as a journalist. She hadn’t been paying attention to where she was walking, more concentrated on not tripping over herself to notice the man coming straight for her. They had collided in a pretty intense way.
Of course Ginny had given countless apologies but her voice went soft when she first laid eyes on the man. Tall, dark and handsome would be the perfect way to describe him. He was easily over six feet with thick jet black hair perfectly coiffed. With matching dark eyes and a rather pale complexion he was a sight to behold. Upon seeing his broad shoulders and muscular arms and chest Ginny nearly drooled on the spot. But after bumping into him, she gathered herself up well enough and apologized one more time before walking off.
The man had been imprinted in her mind from then on. And as she had quickly figured out the insanely attractive man walked the same path every day. Ginny had started to make a habit of watching him down the street and every once in a while she would ‘accidentally’ run into him. By now she was sure he knew her intentions but she just couldn’t help it.
And now here she was, walking down the street with an armful of papers, ready to run into him again. Perhaps this time she would be brave enough to ask him for his name. Suddenly he came into view. Now it was time to act. Ginny averted her gaze and made a beeline for him. Just as she was sure she was about to collide with him there was a firm hand on her arm.
“We really should stop meeting like this.” The man chuckled lightly. Ginny was sure her face was beet red from embarrassment. Surely he had figured her out!
“Haha, yeah, I suppose I should pay better attention to my surroundings. It’s just so early I haven’t had my coffee yet so my brain is still waking up.” Ginny tried to laugh and lie her way out of the situation, suddenly very aware of how close he was to her body.
“Well perhaps we should change that. If you aren’t too busy would you like to get some coffee?” Ginny thought she was going to explode from the excitement bottled up inside of her. She tried to play it off as coolly as she could.
“That would be great. If you aren’t in a rush either.” Ginny mentally berated herself for how lame that sounded but kept steamrolling ahead, hoping to cover up her awkwardness with more words. “I’m Ginny by the way. All this time I keep bumping into you I never told you my name.” Ginny extended her hand and the man happily took it, shaking with gusto.
“My name is Liam.” They shared a small moment of just smiling at each other while shaking hands. It was a small moment, but it was a moment nonetheless. Ginny would take what she could get.
“Shall we? There is a wonderful little café just around the corner.” Liam pointed to a corner not even a half block away. Ginny nodded her head enthusiastically, perhaps a little too enthusiastically.
“That sounds great.”
They walked side by side to the coffee shop and when they got to the counter Liam insisted that she order first. Ginny got a vanilla latte, her secret guilty pleasure of a coffee drink while Liam got an Americano. Ginny went to pay for her latte but Liam refused to let her, saying that it was the gentlemanly thing to do. Just another reason Ginny could tell she was already falling in love with him. Though, Ginny would still never admit that she believed in love at first sight.
“So Liam, what do you do?” Ginny inquired as she sipped her latte. Liam added a single sugar packet to his Americano as he contemplated how to answer her question.
“I guess the best way to answer that would be to say that I am a businessman of sorts.” Ginny gave him a puzzled look.
“And what do you mean by that?” Liam was hesitant to expand on it any further, yet there was something about Ginny that made him feel at ease. The usually closed off and private man saw something in Ginny, something that he hadn’t seen in a very long time. It was a comforting feeling, almost familiar in nature. Perhaps that was why Liam didn’t stop the words from pouring out of his mouth. There was a connection between him and this girl, a connection he wanted to explore in more detail.
“My family owns the Langley
Corporation.” Ginny thought she was going to spray her drink everywhere. The Langley Corporation was a family with money in the billions, and if this guy in front of her was for real he was likely the second son, William Langley, of the current CEO, Edward Langley. The whole ‘Liam’ nickname was likely a way to help keep his identity secret. The family had gained its wealth starting all the way back with the railroads, and through constant diversification with new ventures they had built a reputation of being the closest thing to royalty in the United States. Ginny almost couldn’t believe she was sitting across from such a ‘prince.’
“Are you really William Langley?” Ginny had to set her latte down for fear of another crazy revelation. Liam seemed rather perturbed by the question but answered it nonetheless.
“Yes, though I would prefer if you didn’t share that with anyone. I enjoy my privacy.” Ginny shook her head in understanding.
“No, I get it. It’s just a bit of a shock. It’s not every day that you meet a billionaire.” Even saying the word billionaire was blowing Ginny’s mind. Here she was, a nobody journalist, having coffee with the heir to the corporate throne. To say it was overwhelming would be an understatement.
“I appreciate your understanding. I just want to enjoy my coffee with my beautiful date.” Ginny felt her face turn red again from embarrassment; he was almost too much.
“You aren’t too bad looking yourself.” Ginny wanted to slap herself silly. Had she really just said that to the William Langley?! Shoot me now, Ginny thought to herself.
