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Daylight attacked Drostan’s eyelids as he tried to emerge from a sleep that felt more like drowning. Instead of comfort and warmth, hard floorboards and cold fireplace greeted him. It hurt to even move his long eyelashes, but he did not give up. As he allowed to a slit open, he groaned. Infirm palms rubbed at his square jaw, and another groan saw the light of day. The movement of his head seemed like tilting a fishbowl as the water sloshed this side and that. The skull-cracking pain accompanied his moves.
An insistent knock on the door got him to sit up, holding his head in a useless gesture for the pain not to slosh. “Yes.” He moaned.
“My Laird,” Baxter came in. “An urgent message from Lady Aileen.” And extended him the letter.
With no small amount of effort, he stood up to take the paper. “Thank you, Baxter.”
After the older man left, he opened it. What could be so urgent for his sister to send a rider through the night?
Not too steady strong fingers broke the seal.
D,
Freya arrived last night in clear distress. I am quite sure something is not right. I had the vivid impression she is running from a threat. We offered her and Ewan a small cottage on the west border of the McDougal. Maybe you would like to check on her.
Take care.
Love
A.
Bless his sister!
He rang for a bath, clean clothes and his saddled horse.
Rushing down half an hour later, he ran into Fingal. “Take over the manor for a few days, will you?”
“Freya?” His brother was on his way out; he would probably work in the stables as he used to in the morning.
“Yes.” And barged into the front porch to mount Threuna.
The McDougal lay a day away. The downpour of the previous day did not show up today, but the frosty air indicated winter was not far behind.
Drostan wrapped his tartan tighter around his broad shoulder and prepared for the trip ahead.
Although her words in the woods still stung him, he started to put pieces together since he found her. Aileen might be right. Something was amiss. He had suspected it and even asked his wife. To get no answer for a variation. And did the fact not signalise that she hid something? His sister stating the same showed he did not imagine things. Which made him worried sick. The cause for her run eluded him. Was she running four years ago too? Did it have anything to do with the way she acted now? Why did she not seek his protection? So many questions and not a single clue.
If she did not turn to him to protect her, did it mean she did not trust him? Did someone else protect her these past years? Bluidy hell! The woman confounded even a friar!
He travelled through the main road as the rain would have rendered the secondary ones unpassable. By nightfall, he had no other choice than to stop at an inn to rest and feed Threuna. Before dawn, he awoke, bathed and ate to set out anew, having had very little sleep due to his fretting. He was not happy about any of this. His wife’s skittish behaviour agreed with him even less. This whole thing must stop. At once. He would make it. With this resolve, he focused on his journey.
The west parts of the McDougal lands steeped up the hills. The fresher air here swirled with more freedom and he deemed it lucky he afforded a high-quality wool for his tartan.
The view up here was stunning; he observed his surroundings. From this high up, he saw the top of the hills in orange shades with the fading sun. The peaks already covered with the first snow. Lochs here and there punctuated the landscape and reflected the fast cruising clouds. The vegetation had become bare except for the pine trees which painted a soothing green hue to the late autumn view. He inhaled the crisp air and forged ahead.
Several dwellings had passed by until an isolated one seemed to be the last. If Aileen had intended to hide them, it would be here. Dismounting Threuna, he concluded it had been the case as Reul, Star, the mare’s real name, stood in the small shed by the humble cottage.
Impatience thrummed in him as he fairly banged on the low fragile door.
The sound of it unbarring and its subsequent opening revealed his wife. “Drostan.” She breathed so suave, the caress arrowed where it should not.
He took in her blanched complexion and looked her directly in her haunted hazel eyes. “Either you tell me what is really going on or I will take Ewan with me and you will never see him again.” He commanded, nearly failing to keep his steely resolve at the sight of her.
The words caused that greenish colour to rise in her. “W-who…?”
“Aileen.” He supplied curt, interrupting her.
She widened the entrance for him.
