I dinnae regret it… nary one bit.
Skye paced back and forth in her chamber. The washerwomen were gone, replaced by members of the regular guard. Her homecoming was worse than she had thought. Grayson had changed in the three years since she’d left but not for the better. What had her mother’s supposed death let loose?
I have to get out of here.
She paced the floor, thinking, and soon she heard her door open. She prepared herself, thinking it could be Grayson. But then she saw a familiar, dear face.
“Mary!”
“I’m so happy to see ye, Skye, but I wish ye werenae here,” Mary mumbled, her eyes teary.
“What has happened? Why is me step-father suddenly so pleased to be rid of me?”
Mary sighed. “Ye know that yer worth to him was always that ye would inherit, and that ye could produce an heir.”
“Yes, I kent that,” Skye returned.
“Laird MacArthur’s faither owed MacKeith a debt. I think it was in his mind to marry ye to MacArthur, makin’ all right and legal between them. But then ye and yer mother ran. Then he met a lady in reduced circumstances. And this new lady has a boy and girl of an age to be heirs.”
“But he was already wed.”
Mary went on. “Ye have the right of it. So, he has sent for a member o’ council because he wants to put yer maither aside so he can remarry. But with yer maither, God rest her soul, dead, he’ll nae be put to that trouble. He has him a lady love with twochildren, and one of them a boy. If he can marry her, then he’ll have his heir.”
Skye stared at her old friend in horror. “I cannae stay, Mary. I’ve made it out before, I can do it again. The man who brought me here, Laird MacArthur, was kind to me. I need a plan. One that gets us both out of here for I willnae leave him in me stepfather’s hands.”
The night wore on, and Arran finally slept. At first, he tossed and turned, caught in a nightmare that left him awake in a cold sweat. But eventually, pure exhaustion won out, and despite the cold, stone floor, he drifted off to sleep. He dreamed of flowing red hair, blue eyes, and a voice so soft and alluring that he willingly succumbed to its spell.
“Let go of me, ye miserable oaf!”
He awoke to curses and insults being hurled at the jailer as he threw Skye into the cell next to him.
“Me maither was always kind to ye, Brandon! How can ye do this to me?”
The jailer didn’t reply, either from guilt or fear of facing Blackwell’s wrath. He simply slammed the door shut and locked it.
Arran remained still, watching the object of his dreams now standing before him. Her long, brown hair was pulled to the side and fell down her shoulders in a single braid. A few tendrils had escaped and curled gently at her ears and temples. It’s natural red was beginning to show at the roots.
He blinked to make sure she was real before he spoke. “Skye, are ye all right? Why are ye here? What did ye do to get yerself locked up?”
She was still wearing her day dress, and he assumed she had not slept.
Skye remained on the far side of her cell, and she scowled at him. “What did ye mean about getting the deeds?” she snapped.
Arran sighed. He knew if he ever saw her again, she’d want to know what motivated him to kidnap her and her mother.
“It’s a long story.”
“Look around, Laird MacArthur. We’re nae going anywhere soon.”
He nodded. “Me faither did something foolish twenty-two years ago. He gambled and lost a wager with MacKeith. He paid his debt with a piece of land.”
“How much land?” Skye asked, her curiosity piqued.
“About an acre.”
Her expression changed from curiosity to anger and disbelief. “Ye risked me maither’s life, and mine, for a less than an acre of dirt?” She shook her head. “I dinnae ken ye very well, Arran, but that doesnae make any sense, even for ye.”
Arran understood why she felt that way. “It’s a very important piece of land, Skye. The land sits next to a kirk, and the kirkyard is the resting place of many of me clan’s ancestors. All these years, MacKeith has refused to let me people visit the graves of their loved ones.”
