Page 7 of The Return of the Heir

Arabella and Samuel continued to discuss their hopes and dreams with each other, no longer needing Gwendolyn to interact with them, which came as a relief since she needed a moment to ponder all that had just happened.

Alastair MacLeod had returned. Garrick MacDonald had been waiting for this moment for a long time, ever since he’d had her steal the Fairy Flag. What were his plans now? Would he immediately attack the MacLeods and use the flag and its supposed fairy magic to ensure the MacDonalds’ success? Or would he wait?

If he chose to wait, could she somehow warn the MacLeods of what was to come? She glanced down at the chain about her ankle. She’d spent the past five years trying to hack through the thick iron with a small dagger she’d managed to steal from Garrick. She’d also tried picking the lock and sawing through the chain portion that tied her to the wall. All her attempts had caused no damage to her bindings and had only dulled and pitted the blade of the dagger.

Garrick had never threatened them physically, except for a time two years ago when he had consumed too much ale and tried to force himself on her. Somehow she had managed to wrap her chain around his throat, and pull it tight. Her anger gave her the strength she needed to fight him as he clawed at the chain. With what little breath he’d had left, he begged her for mercy. She’d thought about killing him then, but when he’d gone limp in her arms, she’d relented. It took so long to regain his senses that she’d thought life had fled, until he drew a deep breath and slithered away from her. Since that day, he hadn’t come close enough for her to try something similar again.

During their entire imprisonment, Garrick never released them. Not even for them to bathe or relieve themselves. Instead, he provided water, soap, and bathing sheets once every month for them to clean themselves and a chamber pot that he cleaned occasionally himself since no one else knew of their presence in the tower.

No one, that was, except the Grey Lady. An icy chill whispered through the dimly lit tower that had nothing to do with the coming season. A frothy grey mist swept across the floor then gathered into a more solid shape until the image of the woman appeared before them.

Arabella gave a little yelp as she always did when the spirit arrived.

“It’s all right, Arabella. She will not hurt us.” Gwendolyn had long ago given up trying to comfort her sister with anything but words. The spirit hadn’t hurt them in the five years she’d been coming to them. The lady never said anything. Gwendolyn wasn’t sure if she could actually talk. But whenever she did show herself, she stared at them and thoughts came into their minds, as though she had planted them there.

“What do you want, Lady Janet?” Gwendolyn asked as the woman stared at her from only a few steps away. The mist that surrounded her lessened and her image became much more solid than it had ever been before. Though she’d tried it before, many times, Gwendolyn reached out to touch the specter before her, wanting to find it solid. As always, her fingers chilled and slipped right through what should have been the woman’s left arm. Gwendolyn’s shoulders sagged as disappointment rippled through her.

“What do you want?” Samuel asked, rising to his feet and scowling at the woman. In the past year, her brother had become far more aggressive towards the woman when she appeared. His fear of the ghost had faded, and he’d taken on the role of protector of his sisters. “Have you finally come to free us?”

If only I could.

Gwendolyn heard the words in her mind as she studied the image before her. “Your son has returned to Dunvegan. Does that have something to do with why you are more. . .solid?”

The Grey Lady floated closer until Gwendolyn was engulfed in an otherworldly mist. A chill crawled across her skin. Danger! You must escape. Help my son.

Gwendolyn’s hands fisted in the fabric of her dress. “How are we supposed to do that? I’ve been trying to set us free for five years.” She thrust her leg and the shackle that surrounded her bruised ankle towards the ghost. “I cannot slip from my bonds as easily as you slip through walls.”

I will help. I will find a way.And with those words, the Grey Lady disappeared.

Arabella gasped. “Did I hear her correctly? Did she say she would finally help us?”

All the tension in Samuel’s body left him and he sagged against the tower wall at his back. “That is what I heard, too.”

Freedom.

At the thought, the tightness in Gwendolyn’s chest lessened for the first time in years. She had no idea how the Grey Lady could do anything to help them, but Gwendolyn latched onto the thread of hope as she turned towards her brother and sister. Their eyes were bright and wide, echoing her own tentative hope that they might yet escape the tower before the days turned cold and the darkness of night after night lingered all around them. They would leave the castle and go far away until all the danger was far behind them.

The sound of familiar footsteps on the stairs broke through her thoughts. The sound grew louder until the bolt on the door slid aside and Garrick entered the chamber carrying a bundle of cloth. Instead of avoiding her as he usually did, he came right towards her. Gwendolyn’s heart started pounding wildly.

Garrick gave a low laugh. “Thought I’d never touch you again, did you?”

She grabbed the length of chain between her hands. “Don’t come any closer.”

Samuel sprang forward, as far as his chain would allow. His eyes narrowed on Garrick as he swung his arms out, trying to grasp Garrick in some fashion. “Keep your hands off my sister.”

Arabella rose and stretched forward as well, trying to grab hold of their captor. While the siblings were barely able to touch each other, there was a small area in the very center of the tower where Garrick could stand and not be reached by one of them.

Unfortunately for them, he knew exactly where that spot was located and stopped there. He threw the bundle of clothing in Gwendolyn’s direction. “Put these on.”

Gwendolyn clenched her jaw as she glared at the man she’d come to hate over the years. “I will do no such thing.”

A smug smile came to his lips as he drew a flintlock from his belt and pointed the barrel at Arabella. “You will do exactly as I say, or Arabella dies.”

Gwendolyn’s fingers went numb and the chain fell from her hands to rattle against the wooden floor. She’d wondered for years why he kept them alive. Surely it would have been easier to kill them and be done with his revenge. There was obviously a reason he needed them alive, but she wasn’t going to risk Arabella’s life to confirm her suspicions. “Lower the weapon.” She reached down, and with trembling hands lifted the bundle of cloth to her chest. “I’ll do as you say.”

“I thought you might see reason.” His voice was mocking and slightly amused as he returned the pistol to his belt.

Gwendolyn unfurled the bundle to reveal a grey dress that was several years out of style. Perhaps it was one of Lady Janet’s old dresses? “Why do you want me to wear this?” she asked, trying to keep the quaver from her voice.