Braden stifled his laughter at the look of repugnance on Sin’s face.
“Now that we have that settled …” Braden turned to Maggie. “The next question is how do we find our way across enemy lands, and into the very heart of the MacDouglas’s territory?”
Maggie smiled. “I’m so glad you asked.”
Six
Hours later, as the sun set over the lush, rolling hills of the Highlands, and darkness stretched across the land, Maggie stood in the small courtyard behind the kirk. The entire area was enclosed by shrubs and roses that Father Bede spent most of his days lovingly tending.
A solitary bench rested against the far wall and if she listened closely, she could hear the voices of the women in the nearby dormitory. Faint laughter rode the wind and brought a smile to her lips.
It was beautiful out here. Even though the sun had descended over the farthest hill, a dapple of pink, purple and magenta played across the dark blue clouds as the first stars of the night came out to twinkle. A pleasant chill settled on the earth and the night animals began their soft, gentle serenade.
Maggie had seen the evening descend a thousand times in her life, but never before had it struck her quite the way it did tonight. It was then she prayed that when all was said and done, she’d be back to witness another beautiful sunset from MacAllister lands.
A few weeks ago, when she had devised her plan, she’d had no idea that it would lead to this. Any more than she’d guessed Braden MacAllister would step forward to be her defender in this strange sequence of events.
He was a good man to risk his life for her. And though he had told her he was only doing it for Anghus, she liked to think that maybe there was more to it than that.
Perhaps he would even be a little sad should something happen to her.
What a silly fool you are, thinking such thoughts. The man has better things to worry over than a plain, dowdy lass like you.
Still, Maggie dreamed. Dreamed of impossible things with a man who had stolen her heart.
But most of all, she dreamed of a time long ago when she had been a wee lass of seven and had first given her heart over to her hero...
“Help, save me!” she had screamed as she ran through the great hall of the laird’s donjon as fast as her wee legs could carry her. The clip-clopping of her shoes echoed loudly, and was silenced only by her fearful shouts.
Och, but she had to get away. She had to escape before the great, angry beastie on her heels overtook her.
“He’s going to kill me for sure,” she shouted as she looked about for someone to deliver her from Satan’s dreadful spawn. “Please, please don’t let me die. I’m just a tiny bairn, too young to die yet.”
“No one’s going to save you from me,” the demon had snarled. “So, you might as well stop running, so I can kill you right proper.”
Maggie gulped in fear, and ran even faster. Where were all the grown-ups?
Where was her da?
Terrified, she glanced over her shoulder to see her twin brother Ian closing in on her.
“Help m?—”
Maggie didn’t get a chance to finish the word. Out of nowhere two arms appeared to wrap around her. She thought her father had finally come to her rescue until she realized her rescuer was only slightly taller than she, and her unexpected weight had knocked him off balance.
Falling to the right, she and her savior ended up careening toward one of the castle’s wall hangings, becoming entangled in it, then landing with a solid thump on the floor. A loud rending of fabric filled her ears as the tapestry was torn from its rod and came fluttering down around them.
The rich, red fustian cloth covered her completely. Maggie tried to pry the fabric loose, but she was hopelessly trapped in it.
This was no good, no good at all! She could hear Ian’s breathing just a hair away from her. And if he laid hands on her, she was certain her young life would be over.
“Get out of there, you fish-wife,” Ian snarled as he pulled at the fabric, trying to get to her.
“I’m not a fish’s wife,” she shouted back. “I’m too young to be married, and I don’t like fish.”
From the depth of the fabric, a musical laugh filled her ears. “I doubt if either of you even know what a fish-wife is,” the voice said.
In an instant, she recognized her savior. Her heart stopping, Maggie widened her eyes at the voice of the laird’s youngest son.
