Chapter 20

20

B raden did not know why Roselyn had left. He felt hurt and confused. One moment, she had been at his side, in his arms, caught up in the passion of new feelings and emotions, and the next…

She flees back to England without so much as an explanation, he said to himself, watching as the carriage drove through the gates.

He did not believe her earlier excuses. She had hardly mentioned her family since arriving, and he could not believe a sudden wave of homesickness had overtaken her.

She had spoken of fearing danger, and whilst Braden, too, sensed such a looming possibility, he had tried to keep Roselyn safe, protecting her from the bandit, and keeping close to her in an effort to reassure her. None of it made any sense, and Braden felt forlorn, fearing he had done something he should regret, even as he did not know what it could be.

"I'll miss her terribly," Kenna said, shaking her head.

"Runnin' away before she's even attempted the job she was brought here for. Tis' the English way, though – they're afraid of hard work. She was like a fish out of water," Donald said, and Braden shot him an angry look, signing his displeasure, even as he would gladly have told him to keep quiet.

He had not liked the way his uncle had looked at Roselyn. There had been something in his eyes, a longing, perhaps, or a desire to possess her. Perhaps it was Donald himself who had caused Roselyn to flee, and now Braden sighed, sorry to think of her leaving, just as he had discovered his true feelings for her.

Do I go after her? Do I tell her the truth? he thought to himself, still standing on the steps of the keep, long after the carriage had disappeared.

But there was little point in longing. Roselyn's mind was made up, and it seemed the life of the castle and the clan would continue, even as Braden sank into a deep depression. Kenna slipped her arm into his, smiling at him reassuringly.

"Come now, brother. Daenae cast such a long shadow across yer face. I daenae know why she's left, either. But tis' little point in mournin' her now. Enjoy the memories of what ye shared, and daenae dwell on the things ye cannae change," she said.

But Braden did dwell on those things. His sister did not know of the intimacies he and Roselyn had shared, for if she did, she would surely find the excuses Roselyn had made for leaving very flimsy.

They had been intimate with such passion, and as he had held her in his arms, Braden had known Roselyn was unlike any other woman he had ever known. He had fallen in love with her, and he had hoped she felt the same way about him. It was Roselyn who had brought forth his speech, and whilst Braden knew she had come to Scotland to do just that, he had hoped she would remain, and so too, would his voice.

But perhaps I'll never speak, he thought to himself, for he no longer felt able to, trapped instead by his memories of the past, memories Roselyn had begun to unlock.

"Yer sister's right, Braden. Daenae dwell on what cannae be. Let her go, tis' for the best," Donald said.

Braden scowled at him. He did not need his uncle's advice in matters of marriage and matrimony.

"We do what we must to survive, Braden," his mother had told him, on the day she had entrusted him to the care of his adopted parents.

Braden had always wondered what she had meant by those words, as though she had been warning him, not only of his own peril, but of hers, too. Now, he glanced at his mother, who was staring resolutely ahead, as though lost in thought. Braden shrugged, signing to his sister, and pointing along the glen.

"Tis' nae a safe road, Braden. I fear for her," Kenna said, shaking her head.

Braden, too, was fearful. Many dangers lurked in the forest – bandits, outlaws, robbers. A lone woman, even in a carriage with a driver and horse, was a vulnerable target, and it would take only one wicked heart to seize the advantage.

I should go after her, Braden thought to himself.

"I'm ridin' that way myself today," said Donald, as though knowing what Braden was thinking. "I've some business in the south. It'll nae take me long to catch up with the carriage. I can keep watch from a distance."

Braden knew Roselyn would be angry if he followed her. She had made her feelings clear, even as it had upset him to see her change of heart. He nodded, glad to think his uncle would be absent for the coming days, and signing to him, he made a show of thanks.

"I'll see to it nay harm comes to her," said Donald, "but I'll keep my distance. She seems to want nothin' more to do with us, Braden. Ye, at least."

He was twisting the knife, but Braden was determined not to rise to his challenge, and turning on his heels, he marched back into the keep, waving his hand dismissively.

He felt angry, not only with himself, but with Roselyn, too. She had offered no explanation, save the one he did not believe, and it made Braden wonder if some other party was involved in forcing Roselyn's hand.

Calder, perhaps? Has he said, somethin' to her, or one of the other men… I daenae know, I daenae understand, but why… what did I dae to her? Nothin' – I was honorable, and yet she grows angry with me… well, let her go… nay, I daenae mean that, but… why? Braden thought, cursing himself for allowing Roselyn to slip through his grasp, and lamenting all that could have been.

Roselyn brushed the tears from her eyes, glancing back as the carriage wound its way through the village and took to the path leading along the loch. The keep was soon the only thing visible, towering above the trees, and Roselyn wondered if Braden was there now, locked in his bedchamber, lamenting her departure.

She had been resolute in her determination, even as she knew it had cost her dearly. She had been ready to give everything to Braden, and yet he had betrayed her, forcing her to make a decision she would not even have considered a few hours earlier. She was not homesick, nor was she afraid of whatever danger awaited them, but to hear Braden talk to Calder, to hear him speak as though they had always spoken.

He lied to me, she told herself, and if he could lie to her about such a monumental truth, he could lie about anything.

Roselyn could not trust Braden anymore. Her heart was breaking, and she wondered if she would ever recover. Fresh tears welled up in her eyes, and she took a deep breath, turning to face forward, and calling out to the carriage driver to make all haste southwards.

"We'll have to overnight on the road, my lady. We'll never reach Longtown before nightfall. Tis' a two-day journey at least," the driver called back.

"Very well, so be it," Roselyn called back.

She was trying not to feel afraid, even as the trees seemed to loom over them, growing denser on every side. They were soon deep in the heart of the forest, far from the safety of the village and the castle.

Roselyn remembered the journey north, and how she had felt safe and reassured in the company of Braden, even as she had assumed he was a mere servant. But this was different, and as they traveled onwards, Roselyn was feeling increasingly nervous.

"Tis' a difficult road for the carriage to take, my lady – tis' why the laird and mistresses always ride on horseback," the carriage driver said, looking back at Roselyn, who sighed.

They were making slow progress. The wheels of the carriage kept getting stuck in the ruts on the road, or bogged down in the mud, and the horses were struggling.

"Do you suggest we abandon the carriage and ride?" Roselyn asked, but the driver shook his head.

"And am I to return to the castle empty-handed, my lady? Am I to tell the laird his carriage lies many miles along the loch side, given over to whoever wishes to take it? I'm sorry, my lady. I cannae do that," he said, and instead they struggled on.

It was growing late in the day, and the shadows were lengthening. They stopped by the side of the road, and the carriage driver made a fire, for the evening was cool. Roselyn made her way down the bank from the road to the loch, looking out across the water, where the sun was setting behind the mountains on the far side.

What a beautiful place, Roselyn thought to herself, for even the sadness she felt at Braden's betrayal could not lessen the sense of awe she felt at the beauty of the landscape.

It had become her home, and she was sad to think she would be leaving it behind. England, the valley, Abbey Estate, her family… it was another world, one she would need time to get used to again.

It was as though she was torn between two worlds, the one she was leaving, and the one she was returning to. Neither of them felt like home now, even as she had been so close to making a choice of one over the other.

I'd have given him everything. I'd have given him my heart, she said to herself, as tears welled up in her eyes.

She picked up a stone and skimmed it across the water, watching as the ripples spread out across the surface. Her thoughts lingered on Braden, even as she had tried hard to put him out of her mind. For all his show, she did not imagine he was giving her a second thought.

He and Calder would be laughing about it, reminding themselves of the ruse they had played, and planning who next to take advantage of.

He couldn't even explain himself, Roselyn thought to herself, though she was beginning to realize she had given him little opportunity to do so.

Roselyn knew she could be a formidable woman who did not suffer fools gladly. When she perceived she had been wronged, that was that, and she would not entertain the possibility that she could be wrong.

She had not told Braden her real reason for leaving, and he could not possibly know she had overheard him and Calder talking of keeping one another's counsel.

But that's what they were doing, she reminded herself, even as the merest hint of doubt entered her mind.

Taking up another stone, she dismissed such thoughts as idle, reminding herself she owed Braden nothing, and would not be yet another of his conquests.

I'm better than that, she told herself, as the carriage driver called out to her from the top of the bank.

"The fire's going strong, my lady. I'll warm some milk and honey if you wish," he called out.

Roselyn nodded, scrambling back up the bank to the road, where a small fire was burning next to the carriage. The sight was cheering, for the shadows were lengthening, and the woods growing darker. Roselyn shivered, despite the day having been warm, and pulled her shawl tightly around her shoulders.

"How long until we make camp for the night?" she asked.

The carriage driver, whose name she had discovered was Duncan, thought for a moment.

"We could go on a little longer, my lady. Tis' best to make as much progress through the forest as we can. Tis' a place I'd rather nae bed down in. The further we are from the castle, the more lawless it becomes. When we emerge, it's into farmland and pasture – tis' safer there, but out here…" he said, glancing through the trees.

Roselyn shivered. It reminded her of the encounter with the child in the woods as she and Braden had ridden north. Roselyn had been fooled by the child's appearance, naively assuming there to be no danger.

But with darkness gathering, she felt nervous, knowing anyone could be lurking, waiting for their chance to strike. Duncan handed her a cup of warm milk, mixed with honey. It was pleasantly reviving, and it was not long before they were back on their way, following the road by the loch side, the carriage trundling rhythmically along.

"How much further?" Roselyn called out, for the carriage driver had told her he knew a place they could stop – a dell beside a flowing stream, a short distance off the path.

"Another hour, perhaps, my lady," he called back.

It was dark now, and Duncan had lit a lamp which swung rhythmically from the central curve of the carriage, illuminating the tarpaulin interior. Roselyn had wrapped herself in a blanket. The night was growing cold, and she shivered, thinking back to the warmth of her chambers at the castle.

She pictured Braden and the others in the great hall, eating dinner. A fire would have been kindled in the hearth with a hundred candles illuminating the scene. The food would be plentiful, and the great hall would be filled with laughter and conversation.

Even as the laird remains silent, Roselyn told herself, sighing as the carriage jolted over a rut in the road. Roselyn slid to one side, catching hold of one of the curves to steady herself.

"I'm sorry about that, my lady. Tis' nae easy to see such…. Woah, there," the carriage driver exclaimed, and Roselyn was once again thrown forward, almost falling out of the carriage, as they came to a sudden halt.

Peering through the darkness, she could now make out an object lying across the road. It was a great tree trunk blocking their path. There had been no wind to speak of, but it seemed the entire tree had fallen, its foliage-clad branches creating what seemed to be a great hedge, rising as though in a maze, blocking out the stars above. The carriage driver climbed down with a sigh.

"Can we get through?" Roselyn asked, peering through the gloom, her eyes adjusting to the darkness.

Duncan approached the fallen tree. He made a feeble attempt to move it. But the mighty tree could not be moved, and even if the horses were somehow attached to the trunk, there would be no possibility of pulling back the tree.

The road was blocked, and they could not hope to take the carriage through the trees at night – or perhaps even in the day. Roselyn felt despair. She had wanted to get away as quickly as possible, to leave Scotland behind and never return. But now she was thwarted, and they could not hope to do anything now with darkness setting in. She realized they would have to spend the night by the roadside.

"We'll never move it. In the morning, we'll have to untether the horses and abandon the carriage. I can only hope it'll still be here when I return," Duncan said.

Roselyn felt sorry for him. It was her fault he had been taken from his duties at the castle and ordered to accompany her. He was a smithy by trade, and rarely left the confines of the village.

"But can we really stay here all night?" Roselyn asked, still not having climbed down from the carriage, wanting only to stay close to the light.

"Well, I suppose I could walk on a little. I think there's a cottage a few miles further along the road. I could bring back help. But I shouldn't leave you, my lady," Duncan said, but Roselyn shook her head.

Neither choice was favorable, but the thought of bedding down in the middle of the forest, vulnerable to attack, was less preferable than remaining awake for a few more hours whilst Duncan went to summon help.

"I'll be all right. I'd rather keep my wits about me than fall asleep out here. You go. I'll be all right. Bring back help as soon as you can. Tell them who we are, and that we need horses and strong ropes to help move the tree. Something needs to be done – this is the only way in and out of the glen," Roselyn replied, for she had heard Kenna say as much after her arrival.

She and Braden had ridden north along this road, and she vaguely recalled the cottage Duncan spoke of. A woman there had given her a cup of water and appeared extremely deferential to Braden, a fact Roselyn had found odd at the time, believing him to be only a servant.

"Very well, my lady. But keep yer wits about ye, as ye say. If anythin' happens, scream – scream for all ye're worth. Tis' a still night, and a wonder the tree fell at all. It must've been its time. We all have one. I'll be as quick as I can," he said, and Roselyn watched the outline of his figure scrambling over the fallen tree.

She listened for as long as she could hear his footsteps, knowing herself safe until then. But at last, all was still, and Roselyn was alone. She pulled her shawl tightly around her shoulders, glancing out of the carriage, the front of which was open to the night sky.

The horses were standing patiently in the stirrups, occasionally stomping their hooves or whinnying, the sound echoing through the trees. The fallen trunk was still settling, the branches creaking and the leaves rustling. Roselyn shivered.

It's not for long. We'll soon be at the cottage, or help will arrive, she thought to herself, trying hard not to think about the comforts of a warm bed and hearth – the things she had left behind her at the castle.

But her consolation was to remind herself of why she had left. She would not give Braden the satisfaction of his joke, even as she was beginning to question the haste of her departure. Roselyn knew she was headstrong, and when she felt wronged, she tended to act impulsively. But this was different, and she had hardly given Braden the chance to explain himself.

But I heard them talking. The way they spoke, they were like old friends, she said to herself, even as she knew that was just what they were, whether Calder and Braden had always spoken to one another or not.

But Braden had promised her he would keep his speech a secret, and she had believed him, swearing herself to the secret, even as he had broken his own word. That was the reason she had left, but out here, in the dark forest, all alone, it seemed a rather feeble excuse.

I was angry, she told herself, trying to justify her behavior.

Braden had played a trick on her when he had not revealed his identity when they first met, but this one felt like a betrayal, and he needed to realize he was in the wrong. He could not be allowed to treat women in such a way, even as Roselyn was beginning to feel she had been too hasty in her departure. She had not allowed him to explain, even as it had surely been difficult for him to do so, given he had only just begun to speak again.

To me, perhaps, but not to Calder, she reminded herself, folding her arms, as though Braden was standing before her.

An owl hooted in the trees above, and Roselyn startled, feeling angry with herself for being scared. There was nothing to be scared of, or so she told herself, and she remained sitting, waiting for Duncan's return.

He won't be long, and once they move the trees, we can be on our way, Roselyn told herself, looking forward to the prospect of a warm bed in the cottage and a hearty breakfast the next morning.

It was around an hour or so later she heard the sound of horse's hooves, and then footsteps approaching the carriage. With a sigh of relief, she leaned out from beneath the tarpaulin, trying to make out the figure approaching her, surprised to find them coming from behind.

"I was beginning to give up hope, Duncan. Didn't you bring anyone back with you to help?" she called out, but no answer came through the darkness, only the approaching figure, and the sudden sound of a dagger being drawn.