Page 17 of Moon Craving

Ever since her fall from grace, she had hoped to again earn her mother's approval

and love. She now knew that to be more a fairy tale than any of those Anna had told her

and Emily about werewolves in the Scottish Highlands. It would never happen.

And she would not care.

Her mother did not love her, but Emily still did. Her stepsister had never stopped

caring for her. Abigail intended to be reunited with the only family that mattered to her.

Somehow. Some way. She would see Emily again, and Abigail would tell the other

woman how important her devotion had been.

She now knew Emily had truly saved her life, in more ways than one.

It was easy to ignore her mother in the journey as fear and pain vied for Abigail's

attention. She could not think about her future without great trepidation mitigated only

somewhat by her hope.

And while Anna had treated Abigail's injuries with an herbal mixture better than

anything the leech could have achieved, no herbs could remove all the discomfort from

Abigail's many bruises. The maid Sir Reuben had insisted travel with her had helped

Abigail apply the concoction each night and morning, leaving her smelling strongly of

rosemary and witch hazel. Not an unpleasant fragrance, she consoled herself.

It was late afternoon of the second day when they reached the MacDonald keep. It

was nothing like her stepfather's home. There was no moat, no tower, just a house about

four times the size of the surrounding cottages and a timber fence that would burn all too

easily in battle.

Nevertheless, the people seemed unworried by the presence of an English baron

and his complement of soldiers.

The MacDonald plaid was a deep red-orange and forest green. Abigail searched

for a different set of colors, trying to identify her intended husband or one of his people.

Only there was no other clan present. No other plaid than the one they had first seen after

coming onto MacDonald land.

An old man and two burly but young warriors approached their entourage as Sir

Reuben pulled his horse to a halt outside the keep. "Welcome to MacDonald's holding,"

he said in careful English.