by Dawn Brower
Ailis looked down at the children then back up at him. He could tell the moment when she gathered enough strength to continue on. She stood straighter, and her mouth formed a thin line. She held her hand on her belly and met his gaze. “I’ll pack a few provisions. We’re going to need them if we’re traveling.”
“Not a lot,” he warned. “We’re going to have to go on foot until we reach the next village. Once there, we’ll make a plan on where to go next.”
Sailing to France might be their best option. They might not ever be able to return home, but the wee ones would be safe. The witch hunters of Scotland wouldn’t think to look for them there. It was more likely they’d look in a neighboring village or as far as England. But France—that was a little farther to travel to hunt someone they believed of worshipping a dark entity.
“Aye,” Ailis agreed. “We’ll need some food for the journey. I’ll grab a few small valuables too. We’ll need to sell them for money.”
Ailis left him alone with the bairns. He took them to the kitchen and set them down at the table. Lachlan rubbed his eyes with his fists. “I’m tired,” he yawned. “Can I sleep yet?”
“In a little while,” he told the lad.
“Da,” Moire said.
“Yes, poppet,” he replied.
She was so much like his wife, his heart hurt looking at her. The same brilliant blue eyes and white blonde hair—Daniel wanted to wrap his arms around both of his daughters and cry for what they were losing. If he could change things, he would, but now wasn’t the time for maudlin thinking. He had to take control and lead what was left of his family to safety. Once they were secure, he could come back and maybe save his wife. He doubted he could, but he had to try.
“I’m hungry,” Moire told him.
“Would ye like a slice of bread and jam?”
She nodded happily. He sliced some bread that sat on a nearby counter next to a jar of tomato jam. After spreading jam on the slices, he gave each of the wee ones a piece. The other two hadn’t asked for anything to eat, but it was inevitable once Moire started to eat hers. They each picked up their bread and chewed quietly.
Ailis came back shortly with a small bag. He didn’t ask her what was in it. When she was ready to tell him, she would. She went to the pantry then grabbed a basket and filled it with fruit, cheese, and a fresh loaf of bread. Enough food for them until they reached the village, and maybe a little extra for the next part of their journey.
“I’m ready,” she said.
Daniel nodded and turned to the bairns. “Are ye done eating?”
They all bobbed their heads at once. “Is it time to sleep now?” Lachlan asked.
He wished he could tell the lad it was. “We’re going on an adventure,” Daniel explained. “Dinna ye like to play that game with yer ma?”
Lachlan smiled. “Is ma coming too?”
His heart broke. The poor lad might never see either one of his parents again. Daniel had no idea where Brian was. Caitrìona had instructed him to save Ailis and the wee ones. She left the rest of the adults to whatever fate had in store for them.
“Not this time,” he said sadly. “Come on now, we must begin.”
The children followed behind him in silence. He suspected the twins understood far more than they were saying. Lachlan might even as well, but hadn’t been willing to believe it. In time, he’d trust his instincts. The wee ones would have to grow up much sooner than they should have. Daniel would’ve changed that for them if he could.
Ailis put her small bag inside the basket. She took Lachlan’s hand in hers, and carried the basket of food in the other, then nodded at Daniel. “After ye,” she said.
Daniel reached down and picked up Moire’s hand, then Lili’s. They were a solemn group as the left Dalais Manor for perhaps the last time. He didn’t look back, not once. It was too painful, and his heart had already been shredded enough for one lifetime.
CHAPTER FIVE
TWO WEEKS LATER...
Caitrìona, Sorcha, and Niall were dragged out of their cell and pushed out into the courtyard. The sun blinded Caitrìona, and she stumbled forward, hitting the ground hard. Pain had become a constant companion of hers in the hell she’d been subjected to, alongside her brother and sister. If she could’ve enacted a curse on the evil individuals who’d tortured them, she would.
“Get up, ye evil wicked witch,” Tamhas ordered. “Ye’ll not fool us in tae believing ye ever again. Ye will not pray tae yer evil master.”
Tamhas Gall was the only evil thing she was acquainted with, and she’d rather stab her own eyes out than worship him. Catriona slowly stood and met his gaze with as much defiance as she could muster, then spat in his face. She smiled for the first time in days at the horror that filled his features. He wiped the spit away and then glared at her.
“Ye’ll pay for that.”
“What can ye do tae me that ye haven’t already?” She laughed maniacally. “Are we not already sentenced tae die this day?”
“Cat, haud yer wheesht,” Sorcha said sharply.
“No, let her,” Niall said. “They might be about tae murder us, but we dinna have tae make it easy for them.”
Sorcha closed her eyes and a tear slipped down her cheek. Her usually lovely fiery red hair was dull and stained with dirt. They’d been tortured for days. If they confessed, they’d be spared a trial and their sentence carried out immediately. Their pain and suffering would end. Why not make their lives easier? Not one of the three siblings had bothered to reply to that tirade. They endured for reasons the likes of Tamhas Gall would never understand.
The longer Tamhas kept his attention on them, the more time Daniel and Ailis had to escape with the wee ones. None of them wanted what happened to Brian to befall the rest of their family. Poor Brian had been hit so hard he’d been dead before he hit the floor of the shop. The vicar had been a little too gleeful when describing how Sorcha’s husband died. By then, Sorcha was numb and had found a way to close her gift from being used. Otherwise, she’d have been tortured far greater than anything Tamhas could’ve done to her physically or otherwise.
“Yer ready tae return tae hell?” Tamhas asked. “I’ll be glad tae send ye there.”
Niall didn’t turn his gaze to him. The muscles in his cheek twitched, but he didn’t move an inch. He probably didn’t want to give Tamhas the satisfaction of realizing he’d hit a sore spot. Caitrìona couldn’t blame her brother. Spitting at Tamhas had felt good. The only thing better would be finding out this had all been a horrible nightmare.
“If I’m sentenced tae hell, then I’ll gladly wait until ye join me so I may witness the torture ye’ll find at the hands of the dark one,” Niall said.
“Have ye cursed me?” The color drained from Tamhas’s face.
“Nay,” Niall said. “Ye have yerself tae blame for yer fate.”
“Tie them tae the pyre,” Tamhas ordered. “It’s time tae send them tae their graves for their sins.”
All of them were pushed toward the large wooden stakes that had been erected in the courtyard. Kindling had been piled around them. A large burly man pulled her forward and tied her to the post—her siblings flanked either side of her bound to their own stake. Rope tore into her flesh he’d tied it so tight. She whimpered in pain. The sun appeared to brighten in the sky as Caitrìona’s vision darkened. Her head rolled back as a vision struck her. How appropriate. On the cusp of her death, she’d receive one final peek into the future.
“Isn’t he beautiful?” Ailis asked. “My little Samuel.” She leaned down and kissed his forehead. “If only yer da could be here tae see ye.” She glanced up and met someone’s gaze. “Do ye wish tae hold him?”
“Aye,” Daniel said as he stepped over tae the bed. “He’s a fine bairn. Niall would’ve been a proud da.”
A tear fell down Ailis’s cheek. She wiped it away and smiled softly. “I miss him terribly.”
Daniel fidgeted with the bairn’s blanket and didn’t meet Ailis’s gaze. He
appeared to be fighting his own tears. The wee one started to fuss in his arms and he whispered softly to him, “Dinna fash yerself, wee Samuel,” he said. “I’ll always be here for ye.”
The bairn stopped crying and stared up at Daniel. He was an intelligent lad for being newly born. It was almost as if he understood what Daniel had been saying. That couldn’t be right though. Wee ones didn’t start to ken the world around them for years. Daniel handed the bairn back to Ailis.
“He wants his ma,” he said.
“Ye have a way with wee ones,” Ailis replied. “I’m glad yer here with me. I dinna think I’d survive without ye.”
“Ye’d have been fine,” Daniel said gruffly. “And ye’ll make a wonderful ma tae the wee one.”
Ailis stared down at Samuel and smiled. “If I didn’t have him, I’d not have had a reason tae go on. Without Niall...”
Daniel had his back to Ailis. He didn’t move for several moments, then he turned toward her. He swallowed hard before he spoke again. His eyes held a hint of sadness that hadn’t been there before. He wasn’t broken, but he wasn’t whole either. “I miss my Cat,” he whispered. “I always will. I dinna arrive in time tae save her. I’ll always regret that.”
“There’s nothing ye could’ve done,” Ailis told him. “Ye’d have died as well.”
He shook his head. “Sometimes I think that would’ve been preferable. But, Aye,” he agreed. “There was no saving them from that pyre. It’s a horror that I won’t soon forget.”
This time a tear did escape from the corner of his eye. He gave into the sobs, letting them wrack through his whole body. A strong man in tears was something to behold. He sat down in a chair and leaned down as he finally gave into the agony of losing the woman he loved. When the well of tears started to dry, he leaned back and wiped his face. He met Ailis’s gaze. “I think we should marry and change our names. For the sake of the children. They need a life that’s not tainted by the death of their parents.”
“They didn’t lose all of them,” Ailis quietly reminded him. “We’re still here.”
“Aye,” he said. “And we always will be.”
She nodded. “What would we call ourselves?”
“Noble,” he said. “It has a nice sound tae it.”
She smiled. “Aye, it does.”
Caitrìona blinked several times as the vision washed away. Her face was wet with her own tears. Somewhere out there in the crowd was her dear Daniel—or he would be. She wasn’t sure exactly when he’d arrived, but he’d been there to see them die. Oh, how she’d wished she could have prevented that for him, but perhaps she could still do something for him.
She turned toward Tamhas and smiled. “Ye may think ye’ve won, but nothing ye do here will stop us.”
“We shall see, as yer flesh burns.” He cackled.
And he called them evil. Caitrìona pushed that thought away and focused on her goal. The fire would not be the end of them. Tamhas had to understand that, but more importantly Daniel had to hear what she had to say. So, in the distant future, he would look at their children and realize he had so much to live for.
“Light yer fire,” Caitrìona dared him. “Dance in our ashes when it’s done, but no matter what ye do today, we’ll live on. Death isn’t the end—our legacy will endure.”
“What legacy?” Tamhas asked. “Is this yer way of stalling yer execution? It won’t work. Ye will die.” He snapped his fingers at the men holding torches. “Light it now.” The men holding the torches lit the fire and watched as it spread through the hay and wood. It crackled as it ignited, and smoke billowed around them.
Sorcha glanced over at her and mouthed, “I’m sorry.” Tears spilled down her cheeks. Her eyes were rimmed red and almost matched her fiery red hair.
Caitrìona nodded at her. “Don’t fash yerself, sister dear. We’ll see each other again soon.” Hell wouldn’t be their final resting place. They’d already lived through their own personal one. Nothing but good things were waiting for them on the other side. Caitrìona refused to believe anything else.
The flames started to lick at her feet. She sucked in a breath and breathed through the pain. They’d had so much agony already; what was a little more? She would not give in and allow Tamhas to see her as weak. Caitrìona met Tamhas’s gaze, wanting him to see the determination rooted inside of her. Then she turned toward the crowd, hoping Daniel was already there. She hated that he’d see her die so horribly, but she wanted him to hear one last time how much she loved him. “My heart, the only man I’ve ever loved, I trust ye to ken what I’m saying. We are the Triùir Mhòra, and our legacy is our children. Ye can destroy our bodies, but our bloodline will continue on. Through them we will live.”
The fire grew before them. Through the flames, she caught sight of Daniel on the edges of the crowd gathered to watch them burn. The heat no longer bothered her—she was numb to all pain and found peace in a sea of chaos. She met her husband’s gaze and smiled softly. Tears flowed over his face as he blew her one last kiss. He’d understood, that’s what she needed from him, then she passed out never to wake again.
EXCERPT
ONE ENCHANTING KISS
ENDURING LEGACY 2
AMANDA MARIEL
THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
Copyright © 2018 Amanda Mariel
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the express written permission of the publisher.
Published by Brook Ridge Press
BOOKS BY AMANDA MARIEL
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PROLOGUE
FRANCE 1605
Moire smiled at Ma and Lili as she kneaded a ball of bread dough. The pair stood across from her working their own batches of the pliant mixture. A streak of flour coated Lili’s cheek, while Ma’s apron bore her handprints. Moire imagined she too must be coated in flour. “How many loafs are we tae bake this day?”
“Nigh too many. Six ought tae do.” Ma flipped her dough then began kneading it once more. “We’ve four loaves ordered, two for the manor house, and one each for the inn and Mrs. Moreau. It’s good tae keep a couple extras at the ready.”
Moire blew out a breath as she continued working the dough.
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Lili brushed a stray curl from her forehead leaving a fresh streak of white powder in her wake. “No need tae complain. Tis lucky we are that so many of the villagers purchase their baked goods from us.”
“I wasna’ complaining,” Moire said.
France had been good to her—to all of them. They’d built a pleasant home and a sustainable living here in the years since they’d left Scotland. Da had his blacksmith shop and Aunt Ailis, who had become their mama years ago, supplemented the family’s coin by selling her baked goods.
Furthermore, the villagers had been kind and accepting when the family settled here. Over the years many had become their friends. She’d even begun a courtship with one of the town’s gentleman. Bastien Roux had started calling on Moire a week prior and she found herself rather taken with the handsome young man. Of course she was not in love, but believed with time the emotion could develop between them.
Moire set the loaf she’d been working on aside to rise before baking. She shot Lili a peak as she reached for more flour.
No, Moire did not complain, however, she could not help but acknowledge that things were changing. Lili had been edgy of late, claiming to feel anxiety and fear creeping into the village, and she’d not deny her own visions had increased. Lachlan never spoke much about his abilities, though he’d been even more reserved of late which did not sit well with Moire. Samuel was the most concerning of all. He insisted the family should leave France but failed to give any reason for his adamant requests.
How she wished she knew what was afoot.
She’d had three visions in the past sennight, but nothing that made sense. The first two were quick flashes of women she did not know in places she’d never seen. The most recent vision was a tad more powerful and lasted a bit longer, but still made little sense to her.
It was Moire's neighbor, the widow Pierre, crouched in a dark corner weeping and pleading with someone. “No, please. You have it wrong. Please,” she’d begged. Then the vision had faded as fast as it had come on.
