Chapter Nine

Rosalyn stared at the stone walls as her heartbeat thudded in her ears while she, Aria, Gwendolyn, Fiona, and Isolde walked silently down the hallway. They moved down the stairs, and into a strange room with weapons displayed on every wall, causing her heart to jump. Was this it? Fear roared, renewed within her. Was this the end of her life? And it would come at the hands of the women of the castle instead of the men? Her mind raced with unanswered questions.

The air in the chamber was sweet, laced with the scent of the sea, yet it wrapped around her like a shroud. It was suddenly thick and lifeless as it covered her nose and mouth, pressing against her lungs, suffocating her with the memory of the men attacking her in the woods. She drew a gasping breath and glanced around wildly, searching for the door, for Keiran, for anything that would save her.

A gentle touch came to her arm, and she jerked towards the sensation. “Do not be afraid, Rosalyn. We are here to help you, not hurt you.”

She saw a beautiful white-haired woman standing before her with a look of concern bringing a crease to her otherwise perfect brow. Aria. Rosalyn shook her head, clearing it of her imaginings. She recognised the woman and then Isolde, Gwendolyn, and Fiona who stood close beside her.

“We did not mean to frighten you,” Aria said. “Our goal is to empower you.”

“With a dress fitting, here in this room?” She looked about her again, recognising the chamber as that of an armoury.

“The poor dear is still traumatised from her near-death experience yesterday,” Fiona said in a compassionate tone. “We should have prepared ahead of time about our little deception.”

“Deception?” Rosalyn’s heart and breathing stuttered again. “Are you here to kill me or not?”

“Heavens, no!” Aria exclaimed with a chuckle. “We are here to teach you how to defend yourself. None of us had any idea as to what weapon you might be most skilled at, so we thought coming here would help expediate discovering that.”

“But the dress fitting?” Rosalyn asked, still confused by what they had led her to believe.

“Our seamstress already knows your measurements since the gowns we gave you yesterday fit so well. We did not mislead you about that. She is creating two new gowns for you as we speak. They should be ready by tomorrow at the latest. But before we get to why we are here, I have a few questions for you.”

“Such as?” Rosalyn asked hesitantly.

“You are betrothed to Lieutenant James Long?” Gwendolyn asked.

At Rosalyn’s nod, she continued, “Did you sign a betrothal document?”

“No. Why do you ask?” Rosalyn frowned. “My brother took care of all the arrangements.”

Gwendolyn’s features brightened. “That is excellent. Though I have one last question. Was the betrothal ever consummated?”

Rosalyn could feel heat rush to her cheeks. “Never. All I did was kiss the man once. And that one mistake almost cost me my life.”

“I apologise for asking such personal questions,” Gwendolyn said with a gentle smile. “I think I have someone who can help you. He is a friend of Callum’s, Geordie Buchannan, a solicitor. He was able to help Alastair and me when we had our own betrothal problems.”

“But you married Alastair.” Rosalyn curled her fingers into a tight ball, trying not to let hope blossom. Only pain and disappointment had ever occurred.

“We were betrothed and about to marry when I was kidnapped and hidden away with my siblings for five long years. In that time, Alastair attached himself to another woman, and when I returned, we had to sort out that muddle. Geordie was very helpful. I sent a message for him to come to Dunvegan. I do hope he can help you as well.”

“Thank you,” Rosalyn said, her voice tight as the hope that had threatened broke free. The thought that she might someday be legally free of the lieutenant brought a smile to her lips.

“No thanks are necessary. Someone helped me in a time of need, I am happy to help you in yours.” Gwendolyn moved to the wall and took down a sword. “Now, we should return to the reason we came to this chamber.”

“Aye,” Isolde said as she retrieved a bow and a quiver of arrows.

Fiona took down a dagger, and Aria took down a crossbow. “Have you ever used any of these weapons before?” Aria asked.

“No. My brother never let me anywhere near his weapons. In England, gentlemen do not wear swords as often as they do here,” Rosalyn replied.

“We suspected as much,” Aria said. “Let us go outside and see which of these weapons you might have a natural talent for using. Shall we?” She guided them out of the chamber and to the rear courtyard.

Outside, gusts of cool morning air brushed past Rosalyn’s cheeks. She still wasn’t certain what the women had in mind as far as teaching her anything to do with weapons, and she marvelled that they would even think to arm their enemy with any means to harm them. “Why are you doing this?”

All four women turned to her with curious expressions, but it was Isolde who stepped forward and offered her the bow. She drew an arrow and handed it to Rosalyn. “Each of us knows what it is to feel powerless, to be a victim of circumstance. We do not want that for you.”

“We all learned to fight against those who tried to keep us from becoming who we are now,” Gwendolyn said. “We don’t want you to be in the same situation where you found yourself yesterday, at the mercy of those who would harm you, with no way to defend yourself.”

“I tried to fight them. They were too powerful. There were too many of them,” Rosalyn admitted, feeling a sense of relief at finally being able to talk about her experience. “If Keiran had not come along, I would have died.”

“That is why we are here with you now,” Fiona said with a smile. “You will never find yourself in that situation again after today.”

Rosalyn straightened, feeling not only gratitude, but a sense of growing excitement that she might learn how to be more independent in her new life. “I am ready to learn.” She lifted the bow and tried to put the arrow to it. She fumbled and the arrow fell to the ground.

“Let me show you,” Isolde said, standing behind Rosalyn and helping her hold the bow steady before setting the arrow against the string of the bow. Isolde positioned her fingers so that one sat above the arrow and two were below. “Pull the string back until it touches your lips and chin, and aim at the wall in the distance. Keep your arm straight, but not stiff.” Isolde stepped back. “When you are ready, relax your string hand and the arrow will fly straight and true,” she said in an encouraging tone.

Rosalyn drew a slow, even breath and relaxed the string. The tension in the string surprised her and she jerked back, sending the arrow not at the wall, but straight into the air. As it came down, the women scattered to keep from being struck.

“That was good for your first attempt,” Isolde said, with slightly less encouragement than before. “Try again.”

The next three attempts held similar, dangerous results.

“Instead of running for our lives,” Aria said, interrupting a fourth attempt, “let’s try something new.” She took the bow and handed Rosalyn a crossbow. “Perhaps this lightweight crossbow from the Middle Ages is more your style. It is old, but very dependable.”

Rosalyn accepted the weapon and was a bit surprised at how light it was. “How do I use it?”

“First, you press the trigger underneath.” While Rosalyn held the crossbow, Aria coached her. “Bring the nut forward so that it can accept the leather string when you pull it back.” Rosalyn did and tried to pull the string, but it barely moved.

Aria held up a strange-looking metal tool. “You cannot move it with your hands. Brace the bow against your leg and use the goat’s foot lever.” Aria motioned for Rosalyn to slip the lever’s feet into the metal rungs on the side of the bolt. “Make certain the hook catches on the leather string, then pull back. You’ll hear a click when you have done it correctly. Remove the tool and tuck it into your belt.”

Rosalyn looked at her waist. “I do not have a belt.”

Aria pressed her lips together, no doubt trying to control her patience with all Rosalyn’s fumbling. “If this weapon works for you, we’ll find you a belt. Now, set a bolt against the string. These bolts have feathers, but bolts can also use leather or parchment to help guide their flight. Lift the weapon and sight your enemy over the top, then depress the trigger.”

The bolt sailed across the courtyard and struck the wall before falling to the ground. “That’s better,” Aria exclaimed. “Try it again, this time by yourself.”

Rosalyn was encouraged that the bolt at least went in the direction she had desired. Determined to succeed a second time, she tried to do as she had been instructed only to drop the weapon several times before finally setting a bolt against the string. When she took aim, the bolt did fly where she had planned. Expecting praise, she was surprised to see a frown on Aria’s face.

“You must be faster. The enemy had time to plunder you and everyone around you.” Aria shook her head and removed the crossbow from Rosalyn’s hands.

“Never fear,” Gwendolyn said. “This is a short sword because it is half the size of the longswords the men usually use. It is easier for a female to use. Move your wrist around and see how it feels in your grip. Think of it as an extension of your arm. Take two steps forward and thrust, then two steps back and block,” Gwendolyn instructed, showing Rosalyn how to move.

Rosalyn took the weapon. It felt heavy in her hands, and certainly not a part of her arm. She moved around the courtyard, sending the women scattering. Instead of making her feel empowered, she felt awkward and off balance as she moved forward and back. But more than that, it put the enemy close to her. Too close. She stopped and turned to the women with a sigh of defeat. “I’m not certain I can look someone in the eyes and thrust this weapon into their body. Women were meant to give life, not take it.”

Fiona placed a hand over her abdomen. “Creating life means nothing if you cannot protect it from harm.”

Gwendolyn drew a sharp breath as she beamed at the red-haired woman.

“Oh, Fiona, does that mean what I think it means?” Isolde asked with a smile.

Fiona smiled and nodded. “I suspected I was with child, but I was not certain until this morning when Lottie confirmed my suspicions.”

“We are so happy for you and Tormod,” Aria said, her tone filled with good humour.

As the three women fussed over Fiona, Rosalyn continued to watch them, and admiration mixed with jealousy inside her chest, weighing her down. These women clearly supported each other in both good and bad times if their familiarity with weapons was any indication. She had never had that kind of support in her life from anyone. What would it be like to share her darkest fears and brightest hopes with these women? They were all so different in both looks and talents, and yet so much alike in their care and generosity towards each other.

Rosalyn craved such connection. These women had taken her into their circle, even knowing she was English. They did not know about her own Scottish heritage; only Keiran knew that.

Gwendolyn broke away from the group and came towards Rosalyn. “Our apologies. We were not trying to exclude you from sharing in Fiona’s joy, though she made an excellent point.” Gwendolyn concentrated on the blade in Rosalyn’s hands. “We cannot give life and then not protect it. That protection extends from my children to everyone I love. You will find you will do whatever is necessary to protect what is important to you... including your own life in the heat of battle.” She brought her gaze to Rosalyn’s. “Isn’t it better to learn how to protect yourself and others and never need that knowledge than to not know how, and wish you had learned?”

“Yes,” Rosalyn agreed. Had she had a weapon during her attack yesterday, she had no doubt she would have used it to keep that man from stabbing her. “I want to learn. Please do not give up on me.”

“Never,” Fiona said, taking the sword from Rosalyn’s hands and replacing it with a dagger. “This dagger has taken many lives, but it has saved them as well. It is a balance: life and death. We are not asking you to take lives needlessly, only to decide if this weapon should be used when there is no other option.”

Rosalyn wrapped her hand around the hilt. The stone warmed in her hand. “How would I use this weapon?”

“Look at the blade,” Fiona instructed. “Notice that one side is sharpened, but on the opposite side there is a blunt edge that can be used to brace against your body. This is a defensive weapon, and only used to slice or stab when necessary. You would use it with the sharpened side towards your body so that you can take those blows without damaging your blade. You reverse the blade like this to block.” She moved the sword so that the blunt edge was braced against Rosalyn’s forearm. “On the blunt side, only the top three inches of the blade are sharpened.” She stepped back, allowing Rosalyn space to manoeuvre the dagger forward and backward, which she did with ease.

Fiona lifted the sword and came at her with a strike. Rosalyn easily blocked it and smiled. “This weapon feels more natural than all the others.”

The women smiled at her. “Then we have found what will work for you should you need such a weapon. It is yours,” Aria said, handing her a sheath. “Store it with the sharpened side up so when you draw it, you are ready to position it correctly.”

Rosalyn frowned. “Where do I store it?” she asked, looking at the straps extending from the sheath.

They all laughed. “Looks like we are going to have to get you a belt after all,” Aria said.

“When do I wear it?” Rosalyn asked, warming to the idea of carrying a weapon. “None of you have weapons on yourselves.”

The women all lifted the hems of their skirts and pulled a small blade from their boots. “We will find a sgian-dubh for you as well,” Aria said, lifting her skirt higher, revealing a leather sheath strapped to her leg. “If you are comfortable wearing the dagger, I can have a leg sheath made for you, or else you will leave it in your chamber until you know there is a threat or anytime you leave this castle.”

“Thank you.” Rosalyn smiled at the women gathered near her. “As your e—a stranger, you did not have to teach me, but I am so glad you did.”

Gwendolyn’s brows came together. “You are not a stranger, and you are certainly not our enemy. You are our new friend, and we care about what happens to you.”

Rosalyn’s throat tightened. She could feel tears burning behind her eyes and quickly closed her lids to hide them. Gwendolyn’s words touched her, but it was the sincerity in the woman’s eyes that sent a spiral of warmth through her.

“Open your eyes, Rosalyn,” Gwendolyn said.

She opened her eyes to find all four women smiling at her with that same look Gwendolyn’s eyes held. It spoke of acceptance and friendship.

“When we look at you, we do not see an Englishwoman, we see someone who is strong and determined to rise above the hardships that have been thrown at her,” Gwendolyn said, reaching for Rosalyn’s hand. “You are a survivor, just as we all are. We share a bond, and with that bond you are now one of us.”

This time Rosalyn could not stop the tears that came to her eyes. “You have no idea how much those words mean to me.”

“We all understand how difficult it is to revisit the past, but if there comes a time when you want to talk about your brother, or why you were sent to Scotland, or anything else, we are here to listen,” Fiona said, her tone filled with the acceptance Rosalyn had seen in her eyes.

“Again, I thank you for your understanding.” The pressure in Rosalyn’s chest eased as she looked from the women, past the walls of Dunvegan, and to the great expanse of the loch beyond. Yesterday her life had been all but at an end. Today it had started once more in the presence of these brave women and in the protection of the MacLeods.

A breeze that was cool but not chill brushed against her cheeks and tugged at her hair, bringing with it the heady scent of salt mixed with the emerging spring green and rich earth. Instead of fear she suddenly found herself filled with hope—hope that her life truly was starting over with these extraordinary women as her friends, and for a future that had yet to reveal itself but had nothing to do with either her brother or Lieutenant James Long.