Chapter Five
Aberbeag Castle, Scotland
It was wellbefore dawn when Iseabail Spalding banged on her dearest friend’s door. Her friendship with Sadie Allen of the clan Aberbeag was tenuous at best, but Iseabail held their whispered conversations close. All seven of them. Six had been brief exchanges, the last being a shared look across booths at the summer festival, but the first had created a friendship that she prayed would stand strong now.
Seven years ago, they had both escaped their keepers to wander blissfully free. Sadie’s mother had been happier then and had given her daughter a few hours to explore. Iseabail’s mother had been alive, and she’d watched the two girls from afar as they became fast friends.
Seven years ago.
Tonight, Iseabail’s life depended upon a girl she’d spent no more than four hours with so long ago.
Taking her faith in her hands, she banged hard on the door again. Where was Sadie? Had she moved? No, she couldn’t have. This was the cabin. She’d found that out specifically. Unless it had been a lie. Then what would she do? She hadn’t eaten in two days, and she hadn’t slept in longer. Sadie was her last hope.
A light sparked within the small crofter hut. Thank the lord!
“Sadie! Sadie, please…”
The door hauled open, and a dour faced man scowled at her. “Wot you doing, woman?”
She thought about running, but she’d already run so far. And where would she go? “I’m looking for Sadie Allen. She lived here with her mother.”
“Her ma died. Months ago. She’s up at the castle now. Taking off to London with Connall.”
London? With the future laird? “When?” she whispered.
“Today. Tomorrow. Yesterday.” He shrugged as if it weren’t a matter of life and death to her.
“Yesterday?” Panic choked off her breath.
“Why are you waking a man…”
Iseabail didn’t wait to hear more. She had a rough idea where the Aberbeag castle was, and terror lent wings to her feet. If Sadie had gone to London yesterday, then Iseabail was doomed for sure.
She made it to the back of the castle by morning, stumbling forward and begging everyone to find Sadie for her. Someone pulled Iseabail into the kitchen where she sank to her knees, her strength completely gone.
“Iseabail? Is that you?”
She looked up, her eyes wide at the familiar voice.
“Iseabail—”
“No! I’m not… I’m…” Her words failed her. She didn’t want anyone here to know her real name. Fortunately, Sadie understood. She waved the men in the kitchen away. Iseabail watched with grateful eyes as the rough Aberbeag men left the kitchen with barely a backward glance. The constriction in her chest eased with every step they took away from her. Meanwhile, Sadie looked at the girl who slept near the fire.
“Can you scoop up some stew, Chloe?” she asked. “My friend and I will sit here and eat a bit, then we’ll run up to my chamber while everyone else goes back to sleep.”
Iseabail’s eyes welled up with gratitude. Sadie was as fierce as she remembered, able to take control when Iseabail had always been more timid. Well, she hadn’t been timid today, but she was out of her depth now and exhausted. And hungry.
The food was delicious. At this point, a rotten apple would likely taste delicious to her, but this was wholesome mutton stew. She gulped it down like a starving dog while Sadie watched with a slightly startled expression. She didn’t argue though or ask questions Iseabail couldn’t answer. She simply waited in silence after she shooed Chloe to bed.
Eventually, Iseabail ate her full. In time, her belly bulged, and her eyes began to droop. Sadie gently guided her up to a bedchamber at the top of the castle. It wasn’t fancy and it wasn’t large, but it was warm and had a bed. Iseabail would have collapsed into it if she had a right to. But she didn’t. She needed to explain exactly what had happened and what she needed from a girl she hadn’t spoken to in years.
Sadie spoke first. “Tell me what happened. Is it your uncle?”
Her uncle was Baron Bain, the head of her clan and her guardian. Iseabail didn’t even think he was a real baron but had simply adopted the title when he became laird after his brother’s death. The man was a mean drunk, a vicious warrior, and had terrorized her and her mother since the day her father died and her uncle started leading.
“My uncle wants to marry me to one of his men.” Iseabail said with a shudder. “Albie’s old, smells, and killed his own dog out of meanness. The women won’t go near him, and my uncle plans to marry me to him.” Fear choked off her words.
“Is it for your dowry?”