Page 7 of Falling for His Cousin’s Betrothed

4

Laila worked her way to the east entrance of the courtyard and paused. “Why is that man from the Highland Games at the castle?” she asked, curious as she walked to the wrought iron fencing. She wondered what his interest was in their estate, and as she wound through the circle of rose bushes that enveloped the front yard, she noted that his stallion was still roped to the nearby oak. “Interesting that he’s still here,” she said with a quizzical expression. For a moment, she even contemplated taking his horse and riding off toward the valley, galloping far away from Lyall and all of her distasteful schemes.

“Well, there you are!” exclaimed Lyall as soon as she heard the front door open. She was wearing a long wool petticoat, and her hair was pulled up in a classic bun. Laila could understand why her father had found her attractive, yet despite her outer appearance, it was her character, not her countenance that made Laila grow to despise her.

“Yes. I needed to catch a breath of fresh air, and now I’m heading to my quarters,” she said, pulling a tress of hair away from her face. She had grown exhausted from the cool air and strong sunlight, feeling as if a nap might do her good. At the same time, she was also feeling compelled to leave, to depart from the castle once and for all. Without her father, there was no reason for her to remain at the estate. She wanted to escape from Lyall’s controls and find a way to live her life alone and with some semblance of peace.

“Well, Edward would like to have a few words with you,” said Lyall, moving closer. “He’s having a cup of tea right now in the study, but I told him you’d—”

Before Lyall could finish her sentence, Laila spun on her feet.

“I have no interest in such a man, especially after I heard the choice tidbits of your conversation with him earlier.”

“I don’t see that you have any choice in the matter,” said Lyall, inching closer. “He has an interest in marriage,” she said.

“I’ll hear none of it!” Laila covered her ears, in much the same way that a young child would cover her ears to keep from hearing her parents quarrel. “I’m leaving! I’m going to my chamber and I don’t want you or any of the staff to bother me!” she shrieked, her patience now departed.

“Laila! You mustn’t leave now !” called Lyall. Yet it was no use, for Laila ran with tenacity toward the wooden steps that led upstairs. Once at the landing, she paused. Was it even worth the trip to the bedroom to fetch a bundle and her clothes? Or did it simply make more sense to bolt, to take off through the front door and run off into the dusk twilight that now lit up the valley?

“No, Lyall! For once, you won’t have the last say in what I do or in where I go!” Laila, still contemplating the run upstairs, stared up at the steps and imagined her woolen leggings, her skirts, and her handbag. In an instant, she was gone, her long hair flopping in a braid down her back, as she leaped up the steps, two by two, and fled to her room. She made a bundle and stuffed it with her woolen coat, linen skirts, and a few peasant tunics. She looked at the painting of her father, dressed in his purple court robe. She missed him dearly but knew now wasn’t the time for sorrow. She must run as fast as her legs could carry her until Lyall was a mere speck in the distance.

“I would love to speak with her now,” said Edward, appearing now at the landing.

Laila gulped. “I still have a cable,” she whispered under her breath. The knotted hemp cable, one she used several times before to sneak out of her quarters, was rolled in a heap under her bed. She kicked it out with her boot, shook it loose from its tie, and dragged it across the floor to the window. She flung open the shutters and drew in a deep breath. “I can do this, she said. “I need to be free.” She looked out across the wide, open valley and wondered where she would go. What would happen once she made this commitment to her own freedom?

Lyall’s footsteps grew heavy as she clambered up the steps, and Laila reached down for her bundle. “This is it,” she whispered to herself and flung the bundle out the window. “I must go.”

She thrust her body through the tiny frame, and it snagged her wool coat in the process. With trembling fingers, she unfastened the fiber from the frame, then repositioned herself so that her body was taut on the cable. Her hands, delicate and small, clung to the first knot, the fibrous twist felt on her palms as she shimmied down the cable. “I’m on my own now,” she said under her breath, the cool air against her face as she made her way past the first set of windows on the castle frame. “And I’m going to be just fine.” She landed with a quiet stomp on a pile of duff near the oak trees. Without a moment’s hesitation, she grabbed the handle of her bundle, hoisted it up off the earth, and fled toward the valley below.

The sky was dark, and a light breeze filtered through the leaves of a nearby yew tree. The ground, sodden and cool, felt like sponges beneath her boots. It looked like rain would soon descend upon the mountainous terrain that beckoned in the distance, and she wondered if she would have enough shelter once it arrived.

Before she could brood on the whims of the weather, she stopped. Stomp! A hoofbeat stamped the earth beside one of the hills. Laila carried her bundle as far as she could closer to the sound, then stopped. Her breath was heavy from carrying the weight of her clothes, and for a second, she wondered if she’d be better off just ditching them. After the first raindrop fell, she reconsidered. It could get frigid out in the Highlands, and she’d want all of the clothing she had to keep her protected from the elements.

The horse neighed, the hoofbeat stomping once again, and Laila inched toward the reverberation.

“Where are you?” she called. Not a second passed before she saw him, a black Highland pony, his mane long and kinky, hanging like fibrous yarn from the nape of his neck. His eyes met hers, and she softened. “What is it, boy?” she asked, extending her hand. “Are you hurt?” His withers trembled as she walked closer, trying her hardest not to startle him since he appeared to be in some sort of distress. A mass of brambles obscured his back, and she squinted in the shadows, trying to see where his mane started, and the thorny vines ended. “It’s okay.” She smiled as he craned his neck toward her. As she moved closer, she heard another noise, a grunting. She paused, then backed up, goosebumps lining up on her arms. Was it a black bear? She couldn’t tell, but the mass heaped before she was slumped and large, covered in dark fur.

“Ughhh.” Laila inched even closer, her heart racing as she contemplated what could be seated atop the pony. Was it even an animal? Her mind scattered and unsure, she hesitated. What if Lyall caught up to her? She had to flee this land as soon as possible, lest she be discovered and her life consequently be destroyed. Yet how could she move? For now, right before her eyes, she caught a glimpse of not a bear, but a man, the largest man she’d ever seen, his face covered in dried blood, his back folded over in quiet desperation. How? She felt tears come to her eyes when she imagined what could have caused such a disastrous scene. Had he been caught by a fleeting arrow? Was he running from neighboring enemies? Laila didn’t know what to think, but her heart told her to help.

“Uhhh.” The man made another incomprehensible sound, and Laila knelt down. She knew that she was at risk of Lyall discovering her out in the valley, yet she was compelled to offer whatever assistance she could to the man as he lie there, barely conscious. His immense size had Laila captivated. Is he one of the competitors from the Highland Games? she wondered as she gently placed a hand on his shoulder. He didn’t move at all. Would he be able to stand if she just heaved his body upright? She wedged between the nearest bramble and his side, then pushed against him to see if he would move, yet nothing happened. The pony seemed eerily still, as well.

“Come on!” she commanded quietly. It terrified her to think that the man could be dead, and it filled her heart with even deeper sorrow to think that his trusty steed had just perished, as well. Yet what could she do? Away from the castle and with no intention of going back, she was left to her own devices. A great softening of her heart compelled her to reach out and tend the man’s shoulder. It was her natural instinct as a healer to work her art on anyone who needed it, and in this case, it was clear that her gift was required. Laila sensed the energy from the man’s aura, a deep, penetrating, somber soul he was, she determined as she ran her hand along his arm and then down toward his chest.

The sky grew darker still, and Laila held to the man’s arm, her heart beating in her chest. She was at once mortified and elated. To be free was such a gift, and she hadn’t realized it until now. To be unbound from the confines of Lyall’s mental prison left her with a lightness of heart and a clarity of mind that she had not experienced in some time. And yet it was now tainted by the discovery of this desolate-looking man and his horse, the two of them slumped over in a heap beside one of the densest thickets Laila had ever seen. Her arms grew quickly tired, and she realized that her gift was not working its magic anyway, for neither the man nor his mount stirred at all.

Just as she was about to reframe her thoughts, a howl echoed in the distance. Surely, the man and his ride would be eaten if she didn’t move them from the current situation. Yet how would she manage such a feat, weary and slight as she was? The moon made its appearance, and Laila gazed upward, hoping that some answer would fall from the sky