Page 6 of The Return of the Heir

Chapter Two

Restlessness swept over Gwendolyn as she moved to the single window in the tower where she and her brother and sister had been held hostage for the past five years. Those years had been long and hard, and at times her brother and sister had wanted to give up and let the cold take them when their prayers and pleas went unheeded. But Gwendolyn was not about to give up. She clung to the tattered shreds of her pride, honour, and courage no matter how hopeless things looked for the three of them.

But today, something was different. Garrick was more agitated than usual. Something had changed. Garrick held himself more stiffly, his features were tight, and his shallow breaths were followed by a gusty sigh. He was irritated, but about what? She and her siblings had done nothing to provoke him. They never did. It was why they were still alive.

Gwendolyn curled her fingers into a tight ball, trying not to let hope blossom. She’d imagined changes in Garrick’s behavior before, only to be disappointed in the end. And yet, when the sound of horses approaching came to the tower, Garrick disappeared, and she couldn’t hold back the flowering of hope inside her chest.

Their captor never seemed to be spotted by any of the castle residents as he moved about, even in the daylight, stealing food from the kitchen for them and clothing from the residents as her siblings outgrew their garments. She’d assumed he had found some sort of secret passageway to move about the castle without being seen. And if it weren’t for the chain at her ankle that kept her tethered to this place, Gwendolyn would have disappeared, along with her siblings, years ago.

Over the years, not one of the castle residents came to the Fairy Tower, removing all hope of rescue. The old laird had put such fear into the hearts of those who lived at Dunvegan, threatening death to any who tried, that ever since Norman MacLeod had died, no one but Garrick entered the tower.

Moving the pelts Garrick had given them aside, Gwendolyn stood. The chain was just long enough to reach the window if she stretched her body forward. Grasping the wooden shutter, she shifted it aside and drew a deep breath of the salty air. A breeze stirred, touching her face and throat with its cool breath, pressing the muslin underdress against her breasts. Garrick had given her the plain dress after he’d taken her wedding gown from her. He’d slit her bloody dress in half, making it appear as though it had been caught on the rocks as she’d jumped from the cliff. Garrick had wanted a plausible explanation for the MacLeods to find her dress but not a body. Then, after she’d stolen the flag for him, he’d brought her up to the Fairy Tower to be chained alongside her siblings. It seemed like only yesterday. . .and yet, judging by marks she and her siblings made upon the tower walls, she knew it was not.

After Garrick had secured her in her chains, he’d taken the flag and had never returned to the tower with it again. She had assumed he’d passed it on to whatever contacts he had within the castle staff and smuggled it out of Dunvegan, delivering the priceless artifact to the MacDonalds. Gwendolyn released a soft sigh of regret as she continued to gaze through the single window in the tower. She’d had no choice but to steal the flag and hand it over to the enemies of the MacLeods.

“What do you see, Gwennie? Tell us,” her now fifteen-year-old sister, Arabella, asked with longing in her voice.

Gwendolyn looked at the hills in the distance. One of her only pleasures when Garrick left them was to look out the window and tell her brother and sister, who could not move as far as she could, what she saw. “Healabhal Mhor and Healabhal Beag look particularly fine today.” The flat-topped hills known as the MacLeod’s Tables dominated the skyline for miles around.

“You tell us about those hills all the time,” her brother Samuel replied in an ever-deepening voice. At twelve and a half, he was quickly becoming a young man.

Gwendolyn’s throat thickened at the thought of all they had suffered over the years. The weight of her guilt for not being able to free them was almost harder to bear than the chain at her ankle. Forcing a lighter note into her voice she said, “Well, let’s see. . . The heather is in bloom. Can you smell the honeyed scent?”

Both her brother and sister closed their eyes and drew in a deep breath. “Aye,” Arabella said with a smile. “It’s sweet and a little spicy at the same time.” As soon as she drew in a breath, she started coughing, producing a rattling in her chest. Gwendolyn swallowed hard. The sound was growing worse. Next time Garrick came to them she would plead with him to bring her honey and whisky with which to treat Arabella’s cough.

The increasing sound of hoofbeats brought Gwendolyn back to the situation before her. Turning to the window, she looked again, this time a little closer to the castle. Were the MacDonalds finally attacking the castle now that the old larid was dead? They had the Fairy Flag. If the flag’s magic worked for them, then the MacLeods didn’t stand much of a chance in holding them back. She stood on her toes, trying to get a better view. “There are men on horseback, twenty or so of them.” Twenty men? Even with the Fairy Flag in their possession that hardly seemed like enough men to overwhelm an entire castle.

“Perhaps they are why Garrick left us in such a hurry,” Samuel said.

“Perhaps,” Gwendolyn acknowledged. A moment later, the men did something unexpected. Not advancing, they simply waited atop the ravine that separated the rest of the isle from the basalt rock on which Dunvegan perched. At high tide, the ravine would be filled with water, but the tide was out and the drawbridge had been lowered. The barrier would have been raised had it been the MacDonalds come to attack. Not the MacDonalds then. Someone else was heading for Dunvegan.

The company of men started moving towards the gate. At the sight of a dark head leading the group, a shiver rippled down Gwendolyn’s spine. Alastair? The man she was once supposed to marry had returned to Dunvegan. He and his men were moving swiftly now, across the drawbridge. The late afternoon sunshine highlighted the luster of his dark brown hair and showed the definitive outline of his muscular body.

Then, just before he reached the courtyard, his head lifted to gaze at the tower window. She could feel his gaze connect with her own. She forgot to move, forgot to breathe, just for a moment before she slammed the shutters closed and drew back into the shadows of the tower in a sudden panic.

“Gwennie, what is it? What did you see?” Her sister’s face drained of colour.

Gwendolyn stood there a moment longer, perfectly still, every muscle rigid with tension, before she finally drew a breath, then another. Her heart thundered in her chest as she turned towards her brother and sister who stared back at her expectantly. She’d never thought she’d see him again. Pain and pleasure twisted inside her in equal measure. “Alastair MacLeod. . .has returned.”

Arabella’s eyes widened. “He’s come to save us.”

Gwendolyn turned back to the window. Even if Alastair hated her for what she’d done to him, she could at least try to save her siblings. She drew a deep breath, ready to scream for help as she opened the shutters. The men had passed over the drawbridge and were no longer visible. Her breath left her in a rush. She had screamed out this window for years, only to not be heard. She shut the window and held back a sob, trying to put on a brave face for her brother and sister. “They are gone,” Gwendolyn whispered. “Why would Alastair look for me? He thinks I’m dead.”

“Then he’ll be pleased when he discovers you are not.” Arabella came towards her, reaching out her hands. They were chained on opposite sides of the tower, and could touch each other now that Arabella had grown.

Gwendolyn wrapped her fingers around her sister’s, accepting the comfort she offered. Her sister’s fingers were chilled, as they always were at this time of the year. The changing of fall to winter would bring the hardest-to-endure months in the cold and lonely tower. “Please wrap yourself in your pelts, Arabella. Your cough is growing worse every day.”

Garrick had provided them with pelts and blankets years ago, but it was barely enough to keep them from succumbing to illness. Arabella had had a cough last winter that had returned over the past few weeks as the nights turned cold.

Arabella released Gwendolyn’s fingers and did as instructed, huddling into her makeshift bed for warmth.

“Do you think Alastair will come to the tower?” her brother asked hopefully. “If he does, he might find us. He’d never leave us here. We would be saved.”

Gwendolyn forced a calm smile to her lips for her siblings’ sake as she moved back to her corner of the tower. “Let us find comfort in that thought, shall we? Tell me once again what you will do, Samuel and Arabella, when you are finally free?” It was a game they’d played for years. It was the one thing, thinking about the future, that brought any animation to their faces. The answers were always the same. They wanted to be outside, to remember what grass smelled like, to feel the rain upon their faces, and feel the crash of the surf at their ankles. They wanted to eat marzipan treats and sleep on a huge bed with a soft mattress stuffed with feathers. But they never mentioned going home. For they had no home to return to since their parents and most of their clan had been slain during the raid on their village.

She and Alastair had met eight years ago when his father had brought them back to Dunvegan. They spend little time together since Alastair was training to become the next laird, and she was learning how to run a household the size of Dunvegan. But at meals they often sat together and had gradually come to know each other better.

Against her better judgment, Gwendolyn had fallen in love with Alastair years back, when they’d met each other by chance along the shores of Loch Dunvegan. That night she’d seen not just tolerance in his eyes, but actual affection. Though, that was before she’d betrayed him and his entire clan.