Shawna awoke to brilliant sunshine pouring into her room. She sat up with a sudden jerk, looking around her.
Had she dreamed it all?
She leaped out of bed, searching for some evidence that David Douglas had been there the night before.
But there was no sign of David’s existence.
Shawna stared at her bed. The pillow on the right side, where she had slept, carried the telltale indentation of her head. Naturally. Yet her covers were torn apart as well, as if she had waged war there.
She fell to her knees, looking beneath the carved frame structure of the bed for the gown that had been torn and soaked during her midnight foray. There it lay.
“Shawna?”
Shawna banged her head, trying to rise and turn as she heard the voice of her lady’s maid, Mary Jane Campbell.
“Shawna, are you quite alright?”
No, she wasn’t all right. Her head had been spinning in confusion since she’d awakened. Now, it was killing her.
She stood, rubbing her head, facing Mary Jane. Her maid was just a few years her senior, and they had been together,except for when Shawna had left Craig Rock, since they had been children.
“I’m—fine. Thank you. No, actually I’m not fine. I, er, had a rather rough night.”
“Oh, aye, strange night, wasn’t it?”
“I’m sorry?”
Mary Jane walked on into the room, drawing open Shawna’s wardrobe, setting out undergarments and toiletries so that Shawna could wash and dress. “The moon,” Mary Jane said, flashing Shawna a quick smile. She was a slim, pretty girl with light green eyes and dark brown hair. “The moon, the way it kept coming and going behind the clouds. It kept me up half the night as well.”
“Did you…see or hear anything unusual?” Shawna queried.
Mary Jane shook her head. “Shawna, y’know me well. I lay in my bed, covers to my chin, and I didn’t move the night. What would I see or hear in my bed?”
“It seems amazing what one can see or hear from her bed,” Shawna muttered.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Never mind. I’m sorry. I suppose I’m quite late. Get a message out for me, will you? The miners should take some free time this morning.”
“Free time?”
“Aye, free time.”
“They work for hourly pay, Shawna?—”
“And they shall be paid for these hours.”
“Your great-uncle runs a tight ship.”
“Well, that’s true, but it is the nineteenth century, and it is my ship to direct. Gawain will understand. Time is lost every day now when the workers argue over going into the shafts. So, this morning they will have free time. They should have tea with their wives and babes.”
“Shawna, that is brilliantly generous.”
“I’m afraid it isn’t. I wish that I had thought to be so generous, but actually I overslept. I meant to be up and about far earlier, but…well, you know, there was that wretched moon. Anyway, I shall get the reverend, and we’ll have a service at the mine in, say, two hours.”
“Shawna?”
“Aye?”