A Highlander’s Terror_A Medieval Scottish Romance Story Page 10

CHAPTER ELEVEN

  A SHOCKING DISCOVERY

  A SHOCKING DISCOVERY

  It was strange to return to the castle. Amabel, riding into the courtyard with Glenna beside her, felt as if she had been part of another world for a time. She was not sure, as she slid out of the saddle, her feet hitting the ground with a solid thump, if she was pleased to be back in this one or not.

  “Let's get ready for luncheon, eh, Glenna?” she called as she dusted off her long cloak and headed out into the morning sunshine.

  “Indeed, milady,” Glenna said. She jumped wearily down from her own steed, a white palfrey. Amabel had been very impressed with the improvement in her riding skills over the time they were away.

  “One thing I shall be glad for is to be in a place with good, regular food supply.”

  Glenna laughed. “Indeed, milady!”

  As she walked into the castle and headed up the steps, Amabel felt a strange resistance to the walls that were starting to close round her. She wasn't sure she liked it here any longer.

  I was free in that world. I was myself.

  She shrugged harshly. This was her world, the world into which she had been born. A place of parties, tapestries and ladylike activity. The other world was one from which she was barred by birth.

  “My lady,” Glenna called as they reached her bedchamber. “Shall I call for a bath?”

  Amabel shook her head, wearily laying her saddle pack down beside the clothing trunks and sitting down with evident relief on the dressing table chair. Her feet ached.

  “You're certain, milady?” Glenna said. She was folding the cloaks and putting them carefully away.

  “We'll have luncheon first,” Amabel said decisively.

  “Very good, milady.”

  At least, Amabel thought wearily as she got to her feet, dragging herself to the clothes chest to find something to wear that wasn't soiled from riding, she could expect a warm lunch. One they wouldn't have to pay for it. The money her father had given her was almost finished.

  Which reminds me, she thought. Where is my father?

  He was supposed to join them a week ago. It was just as well, she thought, gratefully, that he hadn't arrived while they were gone. He would have been so worried! If he found out where she had been, well...she wasn't sure how he would react, except for the fact that she knew he would be distressed and likely angry.

  “Glenna?” she called, letting her stained linen gown fall to the floor and taking a white wool one, warm and floor length, comfortable against her skin after the homespun cloth she'd had to wear for the last three or four days.

  “Yes, milady?” Glenna had changed her clothes too, and was now wearing a linen check and a headscarf, warm over her fluffy dark hair.

  “Could you help with my buttons, please?” she called. It was an annoyance to her that she still couldn't manage the task alone, but she was not the one who decided fashionable gowns would have so many buttons as fastenings as to make it impossible to put them on unassisted.

  “Of course, milady.”

  As Glenna fastened her buttons, Amabel thought about her past few days in the field with the guardsmen. It had been a remarkable experience. She had seen much suffering, but strangely, the experience had warmed her heart. She had enjoyed being able to direct the care for the men. Her memories were warmed by the presence of Rufus. She thought about the touch of his hand on her fingers, the way his eyes warmed when he looked at her.

  She swallowed hard, thinking of those lovely memories.

  “Are you ready?” Glenna asked Amabel as she brushed a comb through her long, unruly black hair.

  “I think so,” Amabel said, blinking. She checked the hang of her dress in the mirror, reached for a kirtle and headed down to the door.

  The hall was full of guests. She slipped into her place between the duke and a man she didn't know – he was an envoy of some kind, she guessed. A sand-haired young man with a merry face, he seemed friendly.

  “Good afternoon,” she murmured, sitting down.

  “Ah, milady!” the duke, Lord Glendower, looked up as she slid into the seat beside him. “You returned at last.”

  “I did, yes,” she said. She reached across the table for a slice of freshly baked bread, smiling at the warm, friable consistency. She had missed the palace bakery! The bread they had eaten on the journey could not really compare to the light, fluffy marvel the cook here served out.

  “Well, you look as if the journey was a pleasant one, at any rate,” Lord Glendower said kindly. “Your cheeks are full of new color, my lady.”

  “Oh. Thank you.”

  “Not at all.”

  As the reviving powers of the luncheon slowly worked through to her mind, Amabel found herself wondering where the party of knights was now. She knew they had set out that morning. They surely must be back by now.

  They're going slowly. The carts with the injured men who cannot yet ride will take some time to get here.

  She reminded herself to look out for them a few hours before dinner.

  After lunch, she headed up the stairs to her bedchamber. Glenna wasn't there, and, feeling restless, she decided to go to the solar. Finding someone to talk to in there was a certainty, and she felt company would ease her somewhat.

  The solar held three ladies, sitting sewing. Amabel recognized one of them as Frances, a sweet lady and the daughter of a relative of Lord Glendower's. She went to join her. Blonde and earnest, with a lovely face, her friend moved up to let her sit down on the settee with her.

  “Amabel!” she smiled. “I didn't know you were here. Do come and join us. I must introduce you to Elody and Thaddea,” she gestured to the two women who sat opposite them. Amabel smiled politely.

  Elody, who had red hair and a neat, pretty face, raised a brow. “I saw you at the ball,” she commented. “That gown was an interesting style. Reviving the fashion for a skirt with a train was such a quaint idea.”

  Amabel felt her heart sink. After all she had faced alone, to come here and be insulted on the cut of dress was not something she was prepared to face.

  “Thank you, Elody. I'll bear in mind that you consider it your duty to critique the fashions others choose.”

  Silence.

  Frances gave a nervous laugh. “Oh, Amabel,” she said lightly. “You're so amusing.”

  Amabel sighed. She knew her friend was trying to ease the tension that had crept into the room, but making light of her legitimate offense was not the best way.

  “Do you have some of that ocher cotton?” she said to Frances instead, decidedly selecting a color. “I would like to work the border of my tapestry in that.”

  She noticed Elody and Thaddea looking at each other with raised brows and she wanted to shake her head. What were those two serpents planning next?

  “You know,” Thaddea said, nodding her dark, luxuriantly curly hair for emphasis, “I think it strange that Lady Arnott was dancing with Sir Jeffrey.”

  “Indeed, cousin,” Elody replied intently.

  “I mean, she's engaged to Lord Averdale.”

  “Indeed. It's shocking.”

  “Well,” her cousin said thinly, “It's nothing nowadays, seemingly.”

  “Yes,” Elody said giving Amabel a pointed look.

  What? Amabel shrugged.

  “Exactly,” her cousin replied wisely. “Some people don't take these things seriously.”

  “Quite so, cousin,” the red-haired woman said intently. “Some people were dancing with Sir Rufus.”

  Amabel stared at them now.

  “What?” she said bluntly.

  “Well, you are engaged to Lord Callum.”

  Amabel felt the needle go into her finger without being aware she'd stabbed herself. She was aghast. She lifted her finger and sucked it, tasting blood without being able to identify the copper tang between her lips.

  “What?” she asked, feeling ridiculous.

  “You can't say you didn't know,” Elody said, pale mint-colored eyes round.


  Thaddea gave a derisive giggle.

  “I didn't know,” Amabel said grimly. If these two girls were spinning this tale just to hurt her, she wasn't sure if she could be held responsible for slapping them. However, was there truth here?

  “Amabel,” Frances said gently. “Are you well?”

  “Frances?” Amabel said. “They're jesting, surely.”

  The two young ladies were flushed with rage suddenly.

  “How dare you!” Elody said.

  “Calling us liars, to our faces like that!”

  Frances leaned back, moving her and Amabel subtly away from their raging. “It's not jest,” she said to Amabel gently. “Surely you knew?”

  Amabel stared at her. Her tapestry thread had dropped to her knee and she was looking at her friend with some expression – she could not have said what – on her face. Inside, her heart felt like it couldn't make itself work, it was beating, but painstakingly and aching.

  “I didn't, no.”

  Frances glanced at the two ladies, who were trying not to look smug and failing badly. She stood.

  “Come,” she said frostily. She glared at the two, who looked up at her first in shock and then sullen.

  Amabel stood and followed Frances out to another room. Next door was a smaller audience room, more intimate, with an elaborate fireplace and thick tapestries on the walls, cozy and elegant. She took a seat on the settee by the fire. Not so much because she wanted to as because if she stayed standing she might faint. She was so tired! Nothing registered in her weary, shocked mind.

  “Amabel,” Frances said gently.

  “I'm sorry about those two,” Amabel said numbly. “I made you enemies.”

  Frances sighed. “I don't care about those two – they're vicious baggage. You're my friend.”

  “Please, tell me. The truth?”

  “It is true,” Frances said gently. “I thought you knew. I know because I'm a cousin of the lord Callum, the duke they named. I thought you knew.”

  Amabel shook her head, mute in shock. She hadn't known. How could her parents do this? Now she would never be free to marry where her heart had found love.

  It was the cruelest revelation.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  TAKING ACTION

  TAKING ACTION

  Amabel walked up the hallway through the arches. Back through the palace. Heading for her chambers. She opened the door and sank blindly onto the bed.

  What could I do?

  As she lay there, visions of Rufus played through her mind. Riding in the countryside. Talking together in the tent. In the palace. Kissing.

  She stood. Abruptly, she started packing. She was not going to take this lying down.

  Father is a days' ride hence. He will give me the answers I seek. He cannot have fooled me for so long and expect me to meekly accept his sentence!

  “Glenna?” she called.

  “Yes, milady?” It seemed that her friend was resting; she heard the pallet bed shift. She came.

  “Glenna, summon a man to saddle my horse. I'm going out.”

  “Yes, milady.”

  Glenna retreated to the door and then a moment later, when she had evidently passed the message on, she returned.

  “My lady?” she inquired softly. “May I ask where you are riding?”

  “To Buccleigh. To confront my father. I have news that requires his immediate response.”

  Glenna didn't hesitate. “Can I come with you?”

  Amabel felt her heart soften. “Thank you, but no,” she said thankfully. “I will be better alone. I do not intend to stay longer than a night there. I shall be back on the morrow.”

  “Milady, it shall be dark soon,” Glenna said, frowning as she consulted the window, looking at the height of the sun above the distant treeline.

  It was perhaps four of the clock, Amabel deduced. She nodded.

  “I'll get there after nightfall. Perhaps that is better,” she said curtly. “I'll have less time to stay, then.” She did not fancy the idea of sitting down to meals with a man who had betrayed her to this extent. He had strung her along with this idea that the marriage was her choice to make since she was sixteen! This was the most profound betrayal she had imagined.

  “Yes, milady,” Glenna said uneasily.

  “I'll be back tomorrow,” Amabel said decidedly.

  “If you say so, milady.”

  “I do.”

  Her hands were busy as she spoke. She packed only the items that were necessary. Her purse with the remainder of the cash, should she need to stop at an inn. Her earrings, so she could at least make a good showing at the dinner when she confronted him. A kerchief and a pair of gloves. She reached for the little knife she sometimes carried on long rides, hesitating about packing it as well. She did not want to remember her father giving it to her, the kind words. All lies! She packed it, too.

  “I'm ready,” she said to Glenna. “I'll see you tomorrow lunchtime.”

  “Thank you, milady,” Glenna said gently. “Good riding.”

  “Thank you.”

  Amabel strode down the hallway, her anger giving way, abruptly, to sadness. She couldn't believe – didn't wish to believe – that her dear, kindly father had been lying to her for years! Yet what else was she to think?

  Sniffing, blinking her eyes to avoid furious tears, she marched down the hallway and headed to the courtyard. There, she found her horse already saddled outside the stables.

  “Brogan?” she said to the stable boy who was there beside the cistern, fetching water to clean out the stables. She knew his name from repeated visits to the palace – he always cared for her horses and she found it useful to know the person responsible for that.

  “Yes, milady?”

  “Could I ask you a favor?”

  “Why, yes, milady,” he said in a high voice. He stared at her, seeming nervous of her offer. She guessed him to be around sixteen.

  “I'm willing to pay you to make up the deficit in your wage. Will you come with me on a ride? We will be gone two days.”

  Brogan nodded. “Of course, milady.”

  Amabel felt a knot of tension loosen in her belly. As a woman alone, riding at night would have been sheer folly. With Brogan with her, even though he was young and inexperienced, she was safer.

  She waited while he found a horse he could ride – one of the verderer's horses, she guessed, from the sturdy build and thicker coat – and rode.

  Together, they headed out through the gateway and into the late afternoon in the town.

  “Where are we going?” Brogan asked as they wound their way through the streets, heading for the western portal.

  “To Buccleigh,” Amabel said firmly. “I have urgent news to convey to Father.”

  “Well, milady!” Brogan stared. He looked excited. “That's a long journey.”

  Amabel grinned. “It is, Brogan. I'm glad you accept the challenge.”

  “Yes!” He whooped with joy. “A day or two out o' the barn, away from me da' and his curmudgeonly ways!”

  Amabel laughed. The boy was enraptured. His delight was infectious, and soon she was chatting with him, pointing out the burn that ran through and supplied the force to turn mill-wheels, the green oak trees just clad in their summer garb, the birds.

  “Cor, mistress! You're a fair one at woodcraft,” he said with big brown eyes stretched.

  Amabel chuckled. “Thank you, Brogan. I was taught by the verderers from when I was your age, mayhap sooner.”

  “Well, you got a head start on me there,” he said cheerfully. “Though I should learn more. Do you think Alisdair would teach me?”

  Amabel frowned. She guessed Alisdair to be the chief verderer, the man who managed the royal hunting park.

  “I'm sure he would,” she said, nodding. “Verderer would make a good trade.”

  “It would.” The boy nodded. “Then I'd be able to settle down one day. Have a cottage of me own. Leave the castle and mucking out behind.”

  Am
abel nodded. “You are right to dream of more,” she said absently. The boy frowned at her, puzzled, and she guessed he didn't really know what she meant. She sighed. What did she mean?

  I suppose I speak more to myself than to him. I want to dream of more than my father would give me. His narrow world does not suit my needs.

  She was surprised at herself for such bold thoughts. However, she was not ever going to be ordinary. Papa should have had a daughter like one of those two serpents who told her this news! They would have been happy to marry a duke and gain status even if they lost their freedom. They weren't the sort who used their freedom anyway.

  “Up there on the hill!” Brogan called, pointing up. “Look! We can see the castle properly now.”

  Amabel looked back. From this distance, the castle looked like a grim prison. The walls rose up on the crag, cast from the stone that supported them. She shivered. Brooding and gray, it dominated the walled city.

  I am glad to be free of it.

  As the wind ruffled her hair, Amabel felt her spirits lifting. The day had brightened now, and the sun shone on her shoulders, providing some warmth. She drew her velvet cloak close around her, feeling chilled. The evening would soon be settling in.

  “We are heading through the night?”

  “Yes,” Amabel replied levelly. She shivered as she saw his own misgiving.

  The woods are dangerous at night, a place of outlaws and bandits. I should not go into them now. What choice did she have though? It was worth settling at once, before she had a chance to let her anger dampen. She was furious with her father, a cold, white fury that should be unleashed. She smiled at the younger man, feigning a lightheartedness she did not truly feel.

  “We'll go through and we'll be out before we know we were in,” she said with a big grin. “I'll even race you.”

  “Milady!” He looked utterly amazed. “You know how risky that is, aye?”

  Amabel chuckled. “Ever raced downhill?”

  He whistled. That was possibly even more dangerous than racing in a forest. However, racing in a forest at night was easily one of the crazier things a person could do.