Snarling, he grasped the front of her bloody bodice, yanked her away from Holme, then threw her against the wall. The back of her head struck the stones. Agonizing pain consuming her, she slid to the floor, and her surroundings vanished.
***
Stirling, Scotland, October 1619
"Kristina, wake up and ready yourself for a journey!"
In her bedchamber, Kristina MacQueen jolted awake. Had she just heard her mother's voice? 'Twas impossible. Her mother had passed many years ago. The voice had been inside her dream. What had Ma meant about a journey? Kristina had not left the vicinity of her aunt and uncle's manor house in many months.
Hearing the faint hoofbeats of many horses galloping in the distance, she sat up and listened. As each moment passed, the horses' hooves pounded closer and closer until they echoed off the cobblestones just outside the window. Her heart thumping and an eerie feeling prickling along her skin, she swung her feet toward the floor and sat on the edge of the bed.
A fist battered violently at the home's entrance door below.
"Saints. Who could that be?" she whispered. It had to be the middle of the night or the wee hours of the morn, for she heard no one moving about the house and her room was chilly. The visitor couldn't be the physician calling to treat Uncle Gilbert, who suffered from gout, rheumatism and various other ailments. Nay, he wouldn't bring that many horses with him on a house call. Maybe 'twas the creditors, come to expel them from their home. When her uncle's health had declined, so had his funds.
Could it be news of her older sister? She had not heard from Anna in many months.
Ready yourself for a journey, her mother had said in the dream.
Good heavens! Had someone come for her, to take her to Anna?
Heart hammering, Kristina leapt from the warm bed. Though she couldn't see, she knew the placement of the furniture in her room and could easily navigate the space without bumping into anything. After tiptoeing across the cold wooden floor in her stockings, she approached the door and turned the knob to open it a crack, then listened. The maids were in an uproar on the ground floor below.
"What's the racket?" Aunt Matilda yelled as she tromped by Kristina's chamber and down the stairs. "Who is it?" she demanded near the front door.
"Chief Blackburn MacCromar!" The snarled response was bellowed from outside, just below her window.
A chill of terror and revulsion flashed through Kristina. "Saints, preserve us." She shut the door and barred it, her fingers trembling. She had not been near the malicious bastard in two years. He had finally come for her.
Anxiety and nausea froze her to the spot. What would he do? Would he kill her for a certainty this time?
After Blackburn had sliced Kristina's face and slammed her head against the stone wall, she had not known anything for days. When she'd awakened, she'd been blind and had not seen anything since.
Anna had been the only one there to protect her. If not for her, Blackburn might have easily finished Kristina off in her weakened state.
When Blackburn had left on a trip, she and Anna had run away. After bringing her here to hide with their aunt and uncle, Anna had fled toward Edinburgh, to lure Blackburn away from her, she'd said. What a strong and brave woman her sister was, and how she admired her. Anna had only slipped back a couple of times since, to bring money she'd earned from singing.
Why would her mother, in a dream, expect her to take a journey with such a cruel man as Blackburn?
Had he found Anna?
"Dear God, nay. Please keep Anna safe," she whispered, nausea clutching at her stomach.
Kristina had to be ready for the blackguard. Feeling along the plaster wall, she found her storage chest, the oak wood and the metal studs cold against her palms. Kneeling, she opened it and dug through the scratchy woolen and linen clothing, feeling for the small knife in its leather sheath. Finding it, she strapped it to her thigh above her stocking. She knew the blade was sharp, for she'd whetted it herself.
Was it sacrilege to hope for an opportunity to kill Blackburn? Regardless, she would protect herself and her sister as best she could.
She tied a small linen pouch containing a few supplies, silver coins and her mother's gold and garnet earrings around her waist. The earrings were the last things of her mother's that she possessed. Not wanting to be without them, she either wore them or had them close by at all times. Blackburn had stolen the rest of her mother's jewels, along with the ones Anna's first husband had given her, and sold it all. Kristina would not want him to see these earrings.
Shivering from the chilly room, she struggled to pull on two layers of her warmest clothing over the smock—no easy task, as she was unable to see and had no assistance as she usually did. Once she'd adjusted her clothing into place, she secured the wide leather belt over her arisaid.
Where could Anna be now, all these months later? "Dear God, let her be well," she whispered. "And please forgive me if I have to kill a man to protect myself."
Heavy footfalls pounded up the steps, riveting Kristina's attention. Chills of fear slid along her spine.
"Search this place!" Blackburn ordered.
Doors opened and slammed. Heavy boots thudded back and forth.
