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Authors: Sophia Johnson

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“Aye.” How could she forget? ’Twas there the MacDhaidh displayed the Blackthorn helmet and plaids as warning.

“The most amazing man I have e’er seen stood in the middle of the path. He wore a marvelous cape. I ken ’twas made of feathers of all kinds. The colors were of such beauty I didna fear his face.”

“His name is Bleddyn,” Meghan said, and smiled at him.

“He came alone, did he not?”

“Aye. How did you know?”

“ ’Tis his way. He needs no other to protect him.”

The young man near fidgeted out of his skin in eagerness to tell her all. “A white wolf stood next to him. A bigger beast than even Ugsome! Just as we drew near, he looked up at . . .

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did you say his name was Bleddyn?” Seeing her nod, he continued. “He had but to nod and the beast sat back on his haunches. Oh, did you know Bleddyn paints half his face blue, and the other half has a terrible scar he paints red?”

“Aye. ’Tis also his way. He is Welsh and follows the old customs. When not for battle, it is done as an honor. He knew ye would meet him.”

“I told Rolf such, for he called me Garith in his greeting.

By what means did he know it would be me?”

“He knows many things. The how of it I dinna ken.”

“Our warriors were frightened and drew their bows. He had but to look at them and their hands stilled. Meghan, I have ne’er seen such. Storm went over to him and nickered for his touch, then waited calmly by Guardian. We could have returned then, but Bleddyn told us he had prepared a camp and had roasted a small boar in our honor.”

“The others didna object?”

“Nay. In but moments, we felt like he knew all about our lives, what feats we had done and even what we liked.”

Meghan controlled her face to keep from grinning. Bleddyn would have read their thoughts the moment he saw them.

From them, he learned all that had happened at Rimsdale.

“When time to leave, he thanked us for taking such care to see Storm returned.” Garith looked at her and twisted his head to the side in question. “He said to tell you to ’toss little feathers on high to join the clouds when the sun dips.’ He rubbed his cheek and frowned. ”Though I canna make sense of it, that is what he said.”

Meghan pretended she didna ken his words, though she did.

“I mistrusted my eyes when prepared to leave. One moment he stood beside me, the next he was astride Storm.

Within a blink of time, ’twas as if man, horse, and wolf disappeared into the woods.” He smiled at her, his eyes alight with the adventure he had completed.

“Thank ye, Garith. I could rely on no other but ye to see

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to Storm’s safety. Come, I must exercise Simple and thought mayhap ye would enjoy helping.”

She and Garith spent their time together laughing and rel-ishing each other’s company until the sun started to dim.

When time for the evening meal, she again shunned to dine in the great hall, saying she preferred the clean air atop the castle. No one thought it odd that she took Simple with her.

Taking the green strip of cloth she had tied to her thigh to use once the time came, she secured it around Simple’s left leg. She knew Cloud Dancer would soon appear to lead the hapless bird home to Blackthorn. The strip of cloth told Blackthorn to watch for her.

Her eyes scanned the sky, studying each bit of white as the sun began to wane. Finally, she saw that for which she watched. High above Loch Rimsdale, Cloud Dancer soared toward her.

“Ah, my wee birdie,” she whispered as she petted Simple from her small head back to her tail feathers. “Pay heed to yer friend. Dinna be foolish and stray to attempt lifting a hefty rabbit from the ground. Simon awaits ye at the mews with a fat morsel of chicken.”

Hearing Cloud Dancer’s call, she peered up at the sky to see him gliding with the wind above her. Wee Simple cocked her head and padded her small feet impatiently up and down Meghan’s wrist. After she kissed the birdie’s head, she lifted her arm.

Before Simple could take flight, the door from the spiral staircase burst open.

Chapter 26

“Meghan, why have you not joined us in the hall for your meals?” Rolf stepped out onto the rooftop, his voice deliberately harsh. He well knew why, yet he refused to accept that she would ne’er sit at table with him again.

“Why, indeed,” Meghan responded, the sarcasm in her voice making him flinch. She raised her arm high. “Begone!”

Instantly angry, Rolf thought she referred to him until Simple fluttered her wings, gave one last, quick look at her mis-tress, and lifted into the air in graceful flight.

“God’s love, Meghan, call her back,” he ordered, fearful, as he spied the eagle. “That great bird will take the wee bird as easy prey. She willna have a chance against him.” He whistled, loud and shrill, but Simple ignored his command.

“Nay. He will see no harm comes to her.” Meghan lifted her face to the sky and watched Simple take ever larger spirals to climb higher into the sky.

“How can you know that?” His every muscle tensed, knowing how Meghan loved the little hawk. He expected at any moment to see the bird seized in the eagle’s talons.

“ ’Tis Cloud Dancer from Blackthorn. He has come to take her home.”

Simple leveled off and glided toward the south end of the loch. Cloud Dancer swooped down and maneuvered ahead of the small hawk, guiding her around until she faced north. He stayed close by her side as they followed the line of water. Neither Rolf nor Meghan took their eyes from the two birds until they were out of sight. Even then, she wouldna look at him.

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“Why did you release her?” he asked, though he knew she would not answer. His heart suspected the reason. She had ensured he would return Storm to Blackthorn. Now she sent her sparrowhawk on her way. Meghan planned to follow.

He would not let her. He could not. Though ’twas torture not to have her, he could not bear to let her leave.

These last days had been a living hell. Each time he looked at Ailsa, despair surged that she was there. If not for her, Meghan of Blackthorn would be his bride. Were she his wife, seated beside him for meals, he would eat heartily. If she were close of an evening, he would take pleasure in her company.

He could not bear to think with what eagerness he would go to his bed if Meghan awaited him there.

His tarse, so listless and shrunken of late, surged to frenzied life. He suspected that only a glimpse of Meghan’s shadow could cause it to spring upward in eagerness.

“You will take your meals in the great hall where all at Rimsdale dine.” He steeled himself, knowing when she turned to him, naught but her loathing of him would show on her face. Her body vibrated with it.

“Nay. I willna. Did I not make myself clear afore?”

She turned, and her feelings hurtled at him as he had expected. He did not flinch but nodded, solemn.

To be able to see her, he must yield a concession. Tomorrow, carpenters would add a smaller table to the dais at the end of the high table. Ede, Meghan, and Jamie would sit there.

“Aye, you did. I willna insist this eve. Come the next noon hour, you will dine with us.” Before she could protest, he held up his hand to halt her. “You need not sit at table with me, but with those you wish by your side.”

Rolf feared she was not eating properly, for her face had thinned overmuch. He had watched her these last days, hoping to spy signs she increased with his bairn. Did she do so, he could never let her go. Before she could offer yet another argument, he whirled and left.

The day he wed, he had held little hope he and Ailsa could deal well together, and he had felt the future held naught but

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stark, lonely pain for him. The next morn, her jealous rage ended that fragment of hope. At day’s end, he had told Ailsa that should he wish her in his bed, he would send for her.

Even so, she pressed herself against him at every chance.

Though not wed to Ailsa a sennight, nor even bedded her, he felt strangled by her presence.

He shook off his gloomy thoughts and went to tell the carpenters how he wanted the table built. After that was done, he would find Dougald. Together they would work off his black mood.

When Rolf went to his bed that eve, Meghan did not go above with Ede. To hear Ailsa’s moans of pleasure were more than her mind could stand. In truth, her stomach roiled at the mere thought of it.

Misty fog aided her to reach the postern gate unseen. She swiped the moisture from her hands and labored to trip the tumbler on the monstrous lock. Never again would she take a lock for granted but would learn the secrets of each one.

Half the night passed. At last, she gave up her quest and returned to ease herself into bed with Ede. What was left of the night she spent in a restless dream where she escaped Rimsdale only to have Ailsa lead a lawless band of warriors to her treetop refuge. The ruffians clutched her ankles and yanked her to the ground. Ailsa laughed and promised purses of gold as she urged them to use her so roughly the MacDhaidh would scorn her.

At the sun’s rise, she awoke sweaty and sick. Bread calmed her revolting stomach, and she donned dark brown trews and a saffron-colored tunic.

Missing Storm, she sought out Luath and took comfort talking to him and brushing his mane. Upon hearing the MacDhaidh’s voice, she cursed and stalked out the rear door.

Having further witnessed her skill during the wedding en-tertainment, Rimsdale’s warriors sought her every suggestion to aid their own improvement. Whenever she felt their lord’s

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presence, she ceased what she was doing and sought the opposite direction.

If the MacDhaidh trained in the far field, she worked with the archers. If he strolled over to inspect the archers, she went to another area, whether it was the quintain or where squires practiced with short swords. All trusted her now, for they knew her honor would not allow her to harm any one of them.

The sun had risen high when Alpin sought her out.

“I would deem it an honor to share a trencher with you.”

Never had Meghan seen him look so unsure of himself. As if her answer truly mattered to him.

“I thank ye for the askin’, but I willna break bread with the MacDhaidh.” She smiled at him to soften the refusal.

“ ’Tis easy to see you have not noted the change on the dais this day.” He grimaced and added under his breath, “Nor has Ailsa, for that matter.”

“What can be different? The high table still requires we dine there.”

“Come.” His eyes danced, and he grinned as he captured her elbow and steered her toward the castle. “On my honor, I vow you willna be close to Rolf.”

As they entered the doorway into the great hall, Alpin smiled down at her with a thoughtful look in his eyes.

“What is it?” Meghan frowned and studied his face.

He laughed, surprising her. “After your arrow pricked my pride, I ne’er thought I would seek your company at the board.”

He wriggled his blond brows at her, and his eyes crinkled at the corners. “Had I known then of your skill, I would have deemed it an honor you didna place the arrow betwixt my, uh, eyes.”

Meghan could not hold back a chuckle, but it soon died in her throat. Unease settled around her shoulders like a mantle adorned with thistles. She looked up to see they stood at the left end of the dais. A new table, large enough for four people, stood there. Ede and Jamie smiled up at her. Not from them did she feel this unease.

Glancing aside, she noted Garith and Dougald at the end

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of the lord’s table. Several knights and their wives graced the other end, but ’twas not they who caused her discomfort.

At his usual place, Rolf slouched, dull misery turning his eyes to murky gray. A scowl covered his face while Alpin handed her up to the dais and helped her to sit.

But ’twas his wife’s eyes that caused her spine to chill. She read in them the hate and jealousy that promised Ailsa would see her life taken when she could.

Throughout the meal, Meghan tried hard to ignore them. It did no good. Ailsa took every opportunity to make snide remarks to the other wives about the “graceless, overgrown leman who strives to be a man.”

After all had dined, servants cleared away the food and brought in fruits and cheeses. Jamie asked for her to play a tune on the bagpipes. Alpin added his own plea, stating they had much need of a happy note to end the meal.

“I do believe my head will burst if I hear that dreadful screeching,” Ailsa’s voice rang out. Placing the back of her hand to her forehead, she sighed.

Jamie snorted and then muttered under his breath, “Good,

’tis settled. I will fetch the pipes.”

He was back in a trice. “I e’en filled the bag for ye to save time.” He flashed a sheepish look at Alpin.

“Play loud, Meghan,” Alpin urged, his face mischievous.

She hefted the pipes, thinking of the merriest tune she could remember. ’Twas Connor’s favorite, other than the call to Blackthorn warriors, of course.

Halfway through the piece, Ailsa flounced from the table looking like a bad-tempered hedgehog and hurried toward the door. As she reached it, Meghan screeched out a note that so startled the woman she shrieked and jumped. ’Twas some satisfaction to see her scurry through the doorway.

Over the next days, Rolf grew more surly by the hour. His stomach cramped to a burning ball as he ate less and less, and

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his hair whitened even more. He took every opportunity to ensure Alpin stayed within his sight. Away from Meghan.

In turn, Alpin sought every opening to be with her.

Mealtimes became laden with tension for Rolf. ’Twas annoying when Ailsa thought to entice him by rubbing her leg against him under the table. Now her hand stole across his thigh to seek between his legs. He almost shot from the bench.

Her forward actions pricked at his mind. Had Alpin not assured him she was yet a virgin, he would have thought her well versed in tempting a man’s appetites. She acted much like a woman accustomed to bedsport and too long deprived of it.

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