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Authors: Kristin Vayden

Tags: #Fiction, #Historical

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BOOK: Surviving Scotland
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Chapter Four

My uncle was waiting for us once we returned. As we came through the gate, he charged toward Ioan with a fierce glare that made my own heart wither. What was going on?

“I told ye ta keep an eye on the lass, no’ take her scoutin’ the countryside! Donna ye remember the rogues that chased ye no’ a fortnight ago? Are ye daft?” Uncle Maol blustered, turning a mottled shade of red against the leather armor encasing his considerable girth. His reddish beard brushed against his chest, and his blue eyes narrowed as he took in Ioan’s unconcerned expression.

“With all respect, yer niece was out wanderin’ by herself, so I offered ta take her out an’ about. I dinna want her ta be headin’ out alone.”

My uncle’s gaze cut directly to me, and I barely resisted the urge to shrink back and hide behind my horse. Traitorous Ioan! I glared in his direction but he ignored me and dismounted, tying his horse to a nearby post. I turned my gaze back to my uncle who waited for an explanation.

“Uncle, I am well! Ye canna lock me up like a prisoner! All I wanted was some air—”

“All ye ever want is some air! Lass, ye nearly died! Donna think for one moment that I’m overreacting! Ye will stay in the gates unless ye have my permission!”

I glared at my uncle and fought against the oppressive sensation of the walls growing closer and closer.

“Elle?”

Ioan’s voice broke my staring contest with my stubborn relative. I glanced down impatiently to find Ioan waiting with his arms open. I wasn’t helpless! Did everyone think I was helpless? Though something in the back of my mind told me it was wrong to jump off a horse without assistance, I silenced the voice and straightened my shoulders.

“I donna need yer help.” I glanced back to my uncle, and with a defiant glare held firmly to the saddle and jumped off the horse, landing with more grace than I had anticipated.

Both men stared at me with grudging respect, and I dusted my loose skirt and spun on my boot toward the keep. As I left I heard Ioan chuckle and my uncle growl.

“She may have lost her memory, but she’s still our Elle.” Ioan’s voice was deep and full of appreciation. I grinned in response as I reached the heavy wooden door. But before I entered, I heard my uncle’s voice. Its quiet timbre was almost lost in the groan of the door as it opened.

“She’s no’ yer Elle, Ioan. Donna ye ferget that.”

My head spun with questions, but rather than demand answers to a statement I certainly wasn’t intended to hear, I chose to simply wait. On the way up the stairs a proverb flitted through my mind.

We learn far more from silence th
a
n from speaking.

Certainly that was the truth here at Carnasserie Castle. I needed to listen far more than speak. The opposite of what I’d been doing. After all, if my uncle wanted me to stay at the castle, I knew I had to obey. My face twisted into a clever grin as I thought of how I could do some exploring, not outside, but of the secrets within.

****

Though I hated to admit it, the excursion with Ioan had tired me, and I went to bed early that night. The morning called at dawn, and I awoke with a renewed sense of purpose. My uncle’s cryptic remark had perked my curiousity. Certainly there was more to the story, and I intended to find it out.

Silently, I dressed in a light shift with my stays. The straw-stuffed stays were itchy but not unbearably so. A plaid was draped over my chair and I reached for it, tucking it into my waist, around and up, covering me and offering additional warmth. The Arisaid, as Morag had called it, was comfortable and served me well. Yet, as I looked down at my dress, I couldn’t help the feeling of it being wrong. I checked my dress and plaid again, but nothing was amiss. With a shrug of my shoulders, I went to the basin and splashed my face with cold water.

The keep was surprisingly silent, and I wondered just how early I had awoken. A window offered the barest break of dawn’s light, and I waited for my eyes to adjust. Once I went down the stairs, I walked by a few windows and saw movement in the faint light. I stopped, and then walked closer to the window in efforts of seeing clearer.

The figure was walking along the perimeter of the wall, and I assumed it was a guard. The Arisaid began to sag below my shoulders, and I shrugged it back into place and continued walking. Another movement stopped my progress, and I turned, watching a dark figure wait in a corner for the guard to round the bend of the wall. Intrigued, I waited by the window, hiding my body behind the stone wall and barely peeking my face around the edge. The dark figure waited ‘til the guard was out of sight, then carefully ran to the gate. The man glanced back at the keep and I ducked my head back, but not before I caught a glimpse of his face in the torchlight. It was Ioan! What was he doing sneaking around the castle? Curiosity and anger boiled within me.
Was he a traitor?

Though my annoyance with him was strong, I highly doubted him to be a betrayer of my family but, to be sure, I made the choice to follow him. Quickly I ran to the door and remembered how it groaned; I opened it slowly, hoping it would silence the hinges. I began to rush into the beginning light, but stopped. Were there more guards? A quick scan proved the courtyard clear and I raced to the gate, pausing just before the opening. I peeked around the edge and saw Ioan jogging down a misty road. With a backward glance, and a prayer I didn’t get caught, I rushed after him, letting the morning mist cover my tracks.

The mist swirled around my feet as I followed a narrow path into the trees. Occasionally I’d hear a bird calling or a rustle of the wind teasing the grass, but I had lost sight of Ioan, and I heard no noise to lead me in one direction or another. The path began to disappear in the heavy grass, and I questioned my wisdom in leaving the castle’s protective walls. If my uncle found out, I’d be in more trouble than I cared to imagine. I leaned against a tree and tried to gather my bearings. As I was about to head back toward the castle, I heard a twig snap. The birds no longer called and the silence was eerie. I held my breath and hoped my heartbeat wasn’t as loud as it sounded to my own ears. A rustle of the grass alerted me that I wasn’t alone. Soon hushed voices carried across the fog and I heard a few words, but not enough to make sense of the conversation.

The difference between Ioan’s usual banter and the way he spoke with whomever he was meeting was astounding. There was no teasing lilt or edge of humor to his voice. At first I almost didn’t recognize it, but the timbre was the same. Another man spoke, his voice deep and rich but a harsher accent to his brogue set him apart. I waited, wondering what I should do next. Did I leave before I was discovered?
What was Ioan doing in the forest anyway?
Yet, for all I knew, he was just doing his job and meeting with another clan on behalf of my uncle. So much of the politics of how our families worked among the other people was a mystery to me, and I cursed the memory loss once again. What would it feel like to simply know something for certain? I was lost in my own thoughts and didn’t realize the men had stopped their conversation.

The mist was beginning to lift in the increasing light of dawn, and I realized I needed to either hide or leave if I didn’t want to be discovered. Silently, I counted to three in my head and then planned on running back to the castle, hoping I wouldn’t meet Ioan on the way. The almost indiscernible path was my only option; I didn’t want to get lost, and as I glanced about, I realized that getting lost was a real possibility.
One, two
,
thr—

A hand reached around and covered my mouth as an arm snaked around my belly and hauled me back against a strong chest.

“Donna make a sound, Elle. Shhh,” Ioan whispered in my ear, and for the first time since waking from my fever, I was afraid.
What if
I

m
wrong? What if he

s
a
threat to my family?
Will
he hurt me?
But even as the thoughts flashed through my mind, I doubted their truth. As if Ioan knew my fear, his grasp gentled and turned into more of a caress, confusing me in an entirely different way. The hand over my mouth fell away, but not before his fingers traced from my jaw down to my neck and past my arm. The movement was quick, as if he was fighting between releasing me completely and holding me tighter, so he picked a middle ground. His arm, which was around my belly, released me as well, but not before his fingers traced my waist with such light pressure I almost thought I imagined it. Where was my teasing and arrogant friend? I didn’t know how to react to this Ioan. The feel of his solid body behind my own was making my thoughts become muddled, and I fought the intense desire to lean into his body farther. I shook my head and stepped away. When I turned to face him, the expression on his face was a mixture of restraint and acceptance. He was a puzzle, but rather than be confused, I found myself intrigued and gripped by a fierce desire to know what went on in his head, in his heart. I was quickly learning a truth: Ioan wasn’t all that he seemed.

“Elle, what are ye doin’ here? Do ye want ta give yer uncle a reason ta lock ye in yer room? Or perhaps ye want him ta kill me!” Ioan fiercely whispered. Gone was the first expression that stirred me, and in its place was an impatient glare.

“Donna start with me, Ioan!” I whispered back with my own fierce indignation. “Ye’re the one who is off sneakin’ through the highlands afore dawn an’ havin’ secret meetin’s. What are ye doin’ here, Ioan? Answer me that!” I placed my hands on my hips and leaned back slightly, glaring and daring him to chastise me again.

“‘Tis none o’ yer business. But you, out an’ about when all the other sane lasses are snug in their beds, are my business. Yer uncle will have my hide!” Ioan took a step toward me and grabbed my arm and pulled me along the path back to the keep.

“Let me go, ye overgrown lout.”

“Better a lout than what yer going to be if yer uncle finds out.”

“I’ll just tell him I was followin’ you!”

At that, Ioan abruptly stopped and spun on his boot. A curse was whispered in his rich baritone and I glared at him.

“Donna expect me ta apologize,” Ioan muttered as he ran his fingers through his hair, mussing it from its tie at the back. The overgrown locks appeared to be untamable, much like Ioan. He raised his head to the sky and heaved a large sigh.

“Elle, ye canna tell yer uncle about what I was doin’.”

“Oh, and why?”

I pulled my plaid up over my shoulders again, as it had slipped down, and I shrugged into the warmth.

“I canna tell ye.”

Ioan turned slowly to face me. The weight of the world seemed to balance on his shoulders, and I wondered what he carried there.

“So ye donna trust me?” I placed my hands on my hips and waited.

“Lass, ‘tisn’t about me trustin’ ye. ‘Tis about me no’ trustin’… others. I willna’ put ye in danger just ta satisfy yer curiosity. Regardless o’ what ye think o’ me, I’m a better man than that.”

I didn’t know how to respond. The resolute way his eyes fastened on mine said I was not going to get any more information from Ioan on the subject. He stood straighter and offered me a sorry excuse for a smile and began to walk away. After a few steps he glanced back.

“Are ye comin’ or are ye wantin’ to wait fer the wolves?”

“Wolves?”

“Aye.”

I ran to catch up with him and smacked him on the head when he began to chuckle. When would I ever learn?

****

“Have ye taken leave of all yer senses? Didn’t I just tell ye both that Elle was no’ to leave the keep? And where do I find ye? Frolickin’ in the mist like two fae! You!” My uncle pointed to me. “Stubborn, just like yer mither, God rest her soul, but ye will be the death of me! Ye will! I swear it! I will lock ye in yer room, if I find ye out of the walls again without my permission!” He turned to glare at Ioan. “And you! Ta think ye were part o’ the Black Watch! Ye canna even carry out a wee assignment like keepin’ a lass home! Let Scotland no’ be in the hands o’ the likes o’ ye!” he lamented and turned, pacing the floor. He paused for a moment, heavily breathing and shaking his head.

“Now, what were ye doin’ out at the wee reaches o’ the morn?”

I glanced to Ioan but his expression was unreadable. The usual twinkle in his eye was gone, and the warmth that radiated from his personality was replaced with a frigid coolness. He glanced at me, his eyes cold but resigned, as if he expected me to tell on him. Where did my loyalty lie? My uncle cleared his throat, waiting for an explanation from me or Ioan.
What
d
o
I do
? If I told my uncle about Ioan’s mysterious meeting, then I’d lose Ioan. A part of me knew that instinctively. Yet, if I kept his secret, I was choosing him over family — over my uncle — and wasn’t that wrong? My hands grew damp from the stress and I glanced down, closing my eyes, trying to make a decision.

“‘Twas my fault an’ I take full responsibility—”

“Uncle, Ioan followed me.” I interrupted Ioan, halting his attempt to take the fall. His gaze cut to mine with a shocked expression. I took a step forward and addressed my uncle. “I was curious and got lost. ‘Twas dark, an’ the mist made it hard ta find me way home. Ioan rescued me, truly. I didn’t realize I had gone so far, Uncle. I tho’ I was much nearer; the mists were deceiving.”

And it was the truth, mostly. I was curious and I did get lost. I wouldn’t have found my way home if Ioan hadn’t rescued me. Though it wasn’t a lie, I knew it wasn’t the full truth either, and I hoped I had made the right choice. But when Ioan had clearly intended to take the fall for me, either my pride or cursed attraction to him couldn’t let him shoulder the blame.

“Lass, I donna ken what I’m goin’ ta do with ye. Yer room. Now.” My uncle pointed to the stairs, and I nodded and walked away. I cast a glance back toward Ioan and he was watching me, a strange expression on his face. I offered him a small smile and went to my room.

I wasn’t at all surprised when I heard a knock on my door. Reluctantly, I rose to answer it. Morag’s smile surprised me, and I let her into the room, glancing behind her to see if my uncle was going to make an appearance. Wasn’t I to be locked in my room? I deserved it. I did disobey him, but that didn’t mean I wanted it.

“Lassie?” Morag called to me, and after casting once last glance down the hall, I closed the door and walked over to her. “Ye are lookin’ well. Some pink to yer cheeks.” Morag nodded as she began to run her gnarled fingers over my wrists, neck, and face, checking for something. “Ye are certainly a blessed one. Aside from the loss o’ some o’ yer weight, ye are as fit as afore ye took ill. We’ll thank the good Lord for that, we will.” She nodded and went to the fire to stoke it a bit.

I watched her poke at a log and send sparks flying through the hearth.

“Morag?”

“Yes?” She glanced back at me and straightened her back carefully, placing the poker to the edge of the wall.

“Who was… am I?”

Morag’s face softened and she gestured for me to sit down. The wooden chairs were hard against my backside, and I wondered how uncomfortable they had to be for her. A quick flash of an image of soft brocaded chairs, covered in velvet, crossed my mind then disappeared. They seemed familiar, but I couldn’t place them. Shaking my head, I glanced back to Morag and waited.

“Lass, ‘tis a hard thing ta suffer loss like yerself. I canna imagine what it feels like to miss part o’ yerself.”

“It is difficult, but part o’ me is so busy learning and surviving that I almost don’t have time to worry about it,” I spoke quietly.

“‘Tis a blessin’ then, lass. Now then. Where shall I start? The beginnin’s always a good place.” She chuckled to herself and then sobered, her blue eyes twinkling in the firelight.

“Lass, ye were always an impetuous one. Trouble. That should have been yer middle name. Yer mither and father loved ye dearly an’ wished ta have more children, but a fever prevented yer mother from conceiving again.”

“Did they love each other?”

“Aye, verra much.”

I smiled at the thought. Was there anything better than to know yourself to be born of love?

“Yer mither, ach she was a bonny lass. Same rich golden waves o’ hair and sparklin’ blue eyes such as yerself. But she was taller.” Morag nodded, as if proud of her assessment.

“Yer father was dark-haired with eyes that seemed black, but he always wore a smile. Yer mither would tease him so about his beard being unruly. Once he awoke with it braided and tied with a piece of leather. It was done as a joke, but yer father wore it all day, tellin’ the young lads that it was the way of marriage. Needless to say, they were none too thrilled with the prospect after that. They soon got over it, but I’ll never ferget Ioan’s face when he saw yer father like that. Swore he’d never get married ta a woman who’d do a thing like that.”

“It doesn’t surprise me…” I chuckled.

“Ioan was always yer partner in crime but, as ye got older, something changed in him. I donna ken what. Probably the realization that ye were a girl, and him bein’ a boy meant he couldna play with ye and no’ get teased fer it. Ye didn’t take it well, his change. A few times ye stuck frogs in his bed, but he returned the favor and ye quit.” Morag shook her head. “Yer father passed from a wound in the battle of Sherrifmuir. Yer mither lived a few years longer, but passed when ye were only about seventeen. Yer uncle has been yer guardian since, and takes his job verra seriously, as ye have noticed.”

I nodded. The loss of my parents was difficult to swallow. Hearing the details made it more real. So much loss. No wonder my uncle was suffocating in his care. He had lost just as much as I.

“Is my uncle married?”

“He was, years ago. A bonny lass, but she died during childbirth, both her and the bairn dinna survive. He swore he’d never marry after that and has kept his word.”

“I canna imagine losing a child.” I shook my head.

“‘Tis a difficult thing, ta be sure.”

“Is that why he’s so cautious with me? He’s afraid I’ll die as well?” I asked after a moment of contemplation.

“Aye, ye’re a quick lass. ‘Tis the truth, or so it would seem. So donna be hard on him. Ye’re his only family and lass, ye’re the heir.

“Heir?”

“Aye, his last relation. When ye marry, yer husband will be laird.”

The realization startled me. It made sense but, me? I couldn’t keep myself out of trouble; how was I to help lead a clan?

“Donna fash yerself, lass. ‘Twillna be fer a long while. By then you’ll be married to a braw warrior with bairns tuggin’ at yer skirts.”

As she mentioned a braw warrior, a picture of Ioan appeared in my mind, grinning at me. Another picture of him standing in the mist this morning, strong and unwavering, flickered next, and my face warmed. Perhaps he wasn’t as annoying as I’d originally thought.

“Well, lass, I best be leavin’. We’ll see ye fer dinner tonight.” Morag slapped her knees and rose carefully. She came over to my chair and patted my shoulder, then walked toward the door.

“Morag, wait…” I called and stood up. “Speakin’ o’ dinner… what are neeps an’ tatties?”

“Turnips an’ potatoes… why do ye ask?”

“Oh, no reason. Thank ye.”

She nodded and left. I sat back down and amended my thoughts on Ioan. Yes, he really was that annoying.

BOOK: Surviving Scotland
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