Chapter 17

17

B raden opened his eyes. He could hear a sound – voices, distant, but raised. He sat up, seeing his sister asleep in the bed next to his. It was dark, but a shaft of moonlight shone through the drapes at the window, illuminating the room in a silvery light. The sound came again – the voices, and then…

"Help me…" a voice said, and Braden scrambled out of bed, hurrying across the cold, flagstone floor, and out of the room he shared with his sister.

He was in the apartments where he had grown up. A fire was burning in the hearth, and the door opposite his own was partially open. It was from there the sounds were coming – sobbing, and a voice.

"Forget it, tis' nonsense. Leave him," the voice said.

It was somehow familiar, and yet he could not place it, even as now it grew more forceful.

"Please, nay, ye cannae…" another voice replied, and Braden recognized it as that of his mother.

Fear gripped him, and his heart was beating fast. Something was wrong, terribly wrong. He stepped forward, a shaft of light coming through the open door. And that was when he saw it – his parent's bedroom, a body lying on the floor. It was his father, lying in a pool of blood. His mother was there, kneeling at his side, and standing with his back to Braden was a figure he did not recognize.

"He's dead, there's nothin' ye can do for him," the figure said, as Braden's mother clutched at the lifeless body before her.

"Nay… he cannae be. What wickedness… tis' too awful," she exclaimed, her hands trembling.

It was then she noticed Braden, as he stood wide-eyed and fearful at the door. The figure standing over the body had not noticed him, and Braden's mother looked at Braden imploringly. It was as though she feared a similar fate for him if the figure standing over the body should see him.

"Ye should go," she said, addressing the stranger, even as Braden knew the words were meant for him.

But he could barely take his eyes off the lifeless body of his father, terrified at the sight of death.

"Aye, for now, but ye know what's going to happen, lass," the stranger replied.

Braden let out a cry, and the figure turned…

"Braden, wake up," Roselyn was saying, and Braden opened his eyes, sitting up in bed to find Roselyn holding up a candle next to him, looking at him anxiously.

"I… the dream," he stammered, as Roselyn set down the candle and put her arms around him.

"It's all right, I thought as much. You were talking in your sleep. It was as though you were describing what you saw: the room, the open door, the body of your father, the figure standing over him. I didn't wake you because… well, I thought you might have found the answer you were looking for. But then you started crying out in horror. It was terrible," she said, as she stroked the back of his head.

He clung to her, fearful in the moments between sleeping and waking. But it had been the same as always – the figure turning, but not revealing itself. There had been no change, no clue as to who it might be. In this, Braden felt certain it was not the man he had killed in the woods, the bandit who had attacked Roselyn. This man was still to be revealed – a stranger, and yet…

"I knew him. At least, that's how it feels. I recognized the voice, but it was nae a voice I could place. But I know him, that's all I can say," Braden said.

Roselyn sat back, taking his hands in hers. He was glad to have her comforting presence. She was a reassurance to him, and now he lay back down with a sigh.

"It won't always be a mystery. You'll discover the truth one day, I'm sure," Roselyn said.

She was trying to reassure him, but with every passing day, Braden feared he would never discover the truth about his father's death. It was shrouded in mystery, and would remain so, as long as the identity of the figure in his dream remained hidden.

"I daenae know, perhaps. But for now…" he said, yawning and closing his eyes.

Roselyn lay down next to him, slipping her hand over his chest and kissing him on the cheek. He put his arm around her, drawing her into his embrace, and as he fell asleep, he knew something had changed. He had spoken, and Roselyn was the person he had spoken to. Why it was her, or what it meant, remained a mystery, but Braden knew he would be forever grateful to her for what she had done.

"For now, we can just… enjoy the moment," Roselyn said, even as her heart told her there was still a great deal more to come.

Roselyn awoke as the sun came through the window, casting a shaft of light across the bed. Braden was still fast asleep, lying on his back. She thought back to the moment of his dream, how he had described in such vivid detail what was happening, even as the final piece of the puzzle eluded him. It had been terrifying to witness, but surely even more terrifying for Braden to experience. Roselyn could not imagine how it must feel to be so close and yet so far from the truth. If only the figure would reveal himself.

But that's never going to happen, Roselyn told herself, slipping from between the blankets and hurriedly dressing herself.

She was wary of being discovered – a servant might come to wake the laird, or even Calder or Kenna. Roselyn looked down at Braden, still fast asleep. She glanced over to the hearth, thinking back to the moment of intimacy they had shared the previous night – what would happen now?

I suppose… well, it's up to him, she told herself, wrapping her shawl around her shoulders and preparing to slip out of the room.

Apollo woke up, raising his head sleepily and cocking it to one side. Roselyn raised her fingers to her lips, and the dog lay back down obediently. She smiled, opening the door quietly and checking there was no one in the passageway beyond. The coast was clear, and closing the door behind her, Roselyn made her way quickly back to her own chambers. But as she approached, she saw Elena knocking at the door.

"My lady? Are ye awake?" she said, and Roselyn cleared her throat.

"I'm here, Elena. I just… went out to take the early morning air," she said, hoping Elena would not notice she was wearing her best dress.

"Oh, I'm sorry, my lady. I was given the night off. I went to stay with my mother, and I've only just returned. I should've come earlier," Elena said, looking as though she expected to be chastised, but Roselyn shook her head.

"Of course not, Elena. you were with your mother. I know how important that is," she said, as she let them both into her chambers.

"Do ye miss yer mother, my lady?" Elena asked, following her inside.

Roselyn smiled. She and her mother were close, but she had given little thought to the distance separating them since she had arrived in Scotland.

"I do, but I'm gown up now, and… well, one day I'm expected to marry and move away. This isn't so different. I miss my sisters, though. Grace and Matilda. I wonder what they're doing, if they're happy, what they hope for. We were always close, and I miss confiding in them, I suppose," Roselyn replied.

She would have told her sisters about Braden. They would have seen a change come over her and would have known something was different. A sister could always tell. Roselyn wondered what they would have said, or what advice they would have given her.

Or what advice I'd have given them, she thought to herself, for she was not the only one of the three to have succumbed to romantic inclinations.

Both Grace and Matilda had been feted by suitors, but neither of them was yet to make a match. They were all of them, Roselyn included, strong willed, and it would take a certain kind of man to equal them. In Braden, Roselyn believed she had found such a man, and she was eager to tell her sisters, and her mother and father, the truth, even as she knew their courtship could not immediately be made public.

But is it a courtship? she asked herself, as Elena brought hot water for her to wash with.

She had made no mention of her dress – discreetly ignoring it, or else not noticing the unusual circumstances. Roselyn wondered if the laird made a habit of entertaining other women in his chambers, and she felt a sudden sense of vulnerability regarding her position.

"Elena, I… has the laird ever… courted?" she asked.

She did not know precisely the correct word to use. Did a laird court? Were marriages arranged, or did he simply choose the woman he desired? The servant looked up at her and smiled.

"Has he ever been romantically involved, do ye mean?" she asked, and Roselyn nodded.

She was curious to know, even if it meant knowing that she was one of many. She felt torn between her heart and mind, caught up in the excitement of the affair, but fearing she might be hurt if she gave herself entirely to a man who would not do the same for her. He had only just begun to speak, and it felt to Roselyn as though there was still so much she did not know about him, even though they had spent so much time together.

"I was just curious, that's all. Is the laird expected to marry?" she asked.

Elena nodded. "Aye, it's expected of him, but he's never courted anyone. But I'm just a servant, my lady, what do I know? There may have been women, I suppose. But in a place like this, everyone soon comes to know yer business. I was once sweet on the son of the blacksmith in the village. We used to meet by the loch and walk into the woods. He kissed me there. I was the happiest lass in the world – but for a short while. Someone had seen us, they told my mother, and that was the end of it. He married a farmer's daughter not a month since. I was heartbroken, but my mother wouldnae allow it," Elena said, shaking her head sadly.

Roselyn smiled sympathetically. She knew what it was to have others know your every move. Had she met Braden back in England, her sisters would soon have discovered the truth – however much she tried to hide it. But to hear that the laird had courted no other women in the past was a cheering thought. She had expected Elena to recount his past conquests, revealing his promiscuity. But in her answer, Elena had suggested Roselyn was different, and that Braden's actions – and now his words – truly meant something.

"You'll find the right man for you, Elena. I'm certain of it," Roselyn said, and the maid laughed.

"Aye, perhaps, but tis' nae easy in a place like this. How I dream of going far away from here, my lady – to England, perhaps, and findin' a man there," she said, swooning for a moment, as Roselyn smiled at her.

"Perhaps you will. Why not? You don't have to remain a maid forever. You're only young. You've got your whole life ahead of you," Roselyn said, but Elena shook her head.

"Forgive me for sayin' so, my lady, but tis' easy for a woman like ye to say such things. Ye had yer learnin' and yer ambitions. But for someone like me, tis' impossible. I cannae leave here, and tis' foolish to think I can. But I'll be all right. I've got my mother – I'm sure she'll find me a suitable match. I know she's anxious to," Elena replied.

Roselyn felt sorry for her, and guilty for making such assumptions. She realized her own life had been one of privilege. Her father had encouraged her to learn, enabling her to do so, when most women did little more than embroider and learn a smattering of French. In this, she was blessed, and had used the opportunities afforded her to her own advantage. But things were different for the likes of Elena, and her prospects were limited by the circumstances in which she found herself.

"I'm sorry, Elena. I didn't think about it like that," Roselyn replied, but the girl shook her head.

"Tis' nae yer fault, my lady. But we live very different lives. Ye find yerself in a place where things are different, people are different, expectations are different. Are ye thinkin' of stayin' here?" Elena asked.

It felt strange to be confronted by such a question, but Roselyn now realized she was faced with a choice – to stay or go. The laird had talked. Her reason for traveling north had been realized. And yet, Braden's speech had nothing to do with any lessons or practical coercion on Roselyn's part.

She had not taught him to speak, even as he had come to do so. Had it been her mere presence? Or was there something more? To stay or go, that was the question she now faced, and she felt torn between the possibilities now open to her. With her task completed, the time had come to return home, and yet her heart had found its place amongst the mountains and lochs, caught up in her growing affections for the laird, who was master of the beauty surrounding her.

"I… I don't know… perhaps," she said, and Elena smiled at her.

"Ye should think about it, my lady. Tis' clear ye've found a place here. Tis' nae every Englishwoman who can say that of our highland realms, but ye seem at ease here, and especially in the company of the laird," she said.

Roselyn blushed. It seemed she had made her feelings for Braden obvious, and she smiled, shaking her head, even as she knew it to be true.

"Oh, I don't think so. He's got far more important things to be thinking about," she replied.

But as she finished getting ready – keeping up the pretense of having spent the night in her bedchamber – Roselyn could not help but feel her choice was already made, and her heart and mind had found their place, not in her old home, but here.