Page 21 of Moon Craving

The prospect terrified her almost as much as her first lucid moments after her world

had gone silent.

At this moment, there were altogether too many prospects to cause her concern,

and Abigail envied her maid the oblivion of sleep. She craved escape from her thoughts,

but not enough to wish she'd joined her parents. Sybil and Sir Reuben were in the keep,

along with the soldiers on duty and those that had not chosen an early night.

Abigail had not been invited to join them, and she had not requested to do so.

Supper had been difficult enough with her struggle to read unfamiliar lips and features.

Added to that had been the nerve-racking condition of being the center of all eyes, a

condition she had no experience with.

Abigail was used to being ignored among her stepfather's people. Only here, she

was the future wife of a powerful Highland laird obviously respected and admired by the

MacDonald clan--and perhaps even a little feared. Everyone had stared at her, and she

felt their judgment even if she could not hear the whispers going on around her.

Sadly, none of her experiences since reaching Scotland had served to quiet the

anxiety screaming inside her soundless world.

The dirt floor of the cottage vibrated. Emily had taught Abigail that she had to use

her other senses to compensate for her lack of hearing. Otherwise, she would be found

out and become an outcast even in her family's own keep. She had learned to "hear" a

great deal through what she felt around her. Dropping her hand to the floor, she let it settle

against the compacted earth. The vibrations were in no way subtle and indicated a party

of warhorses riding past the cottage. Her soon-to-be groom and the MacDonald laird must

have returned.

They had certainly taken their time about it. It was full dark, and the two lairds had

missed the evening meal by more than two hours.

Careful not to wake the sleeping maid, Abigail climbed from her bed. She could not

miss this opportunity to get a glimpse of the Sinclair laird.

She snuck quietly to the cottage window facing the front, but when she pulled back

the covering, she saw no horses or men. She hurried across the one-room dwelling and

pulled the covering aside on the window facing the chapel.