Page 22 of Enchanted

Chapter Nine

Rosalyn stared at the stone walls as her heartbeat thudded in her ears while she, Aria, Gwendolyn, Fiona, and Isolde walked silently down the hallway. They moved down the stairs, and into a strange room with weapons displayed on every wall, causing her heart to jump. Was this it? Fear roared, renewed within her. Was this the end of her life? And it would come at the hands of the women of the castle instead of the men? Her mind raced with unanswered questions.

The air in the chamber was sweet, laced with the scent of the sea, yet it wrapped around her like a shroud. It was suddenly thick and lifeless as it covered her nose and mouth, pressing against her lungs, suffocating her with the memory of the men attacking her in the woods. She drew a gasping breath and glanced around wildly, searching for the door, for Keiran, for anything that would save her.

A gentle touch came to her arm, and she jerked towards the sensation. “Do not be afraid, Rosalyn. We are here to help you, not hurt you.”

She saw a beautiful white-haired woman standing before her with a look of concern bringing a crease to her otherwise perfect brow. Aria. Rosalyn shook her head, clearing it of her imaginings. She recognised the woman and then Isolde, Gwendolyn, and Fiona who stood close beside her.

“We did not mean to frighten you,” Aria said. “Our goal is to empower you.”

“With a dress fitting, here in this room?” She looked about her again, recognising the chamber as that of an armoury.

“The poor dear is still traumatised from her near-death experience yesterday,” Fiona said in a compassionate tone. “We should have prepared ahead of time about our little deception.”

“Deception?” Rosalyn’s heart and breathing stuttered again. “Are you here to kill me or not?”

“Heavens, no!” Aria exclaimed with a chuckle. “We are here to teach you how to defend yourself. None of us had any idea as to what weapon you might be most skilled at, so we thought coming here would help expediate discovering that.”

“But the dress fitting?” Rosalyn asked, still confused by what they had led her to believe.

“Our seamstress already knows your measurements since the gowns we gave you yesterday fit so well. We did not mislead you about that. She is creating two new gowns for you as we speak. They should be ready by tomorrow at the latest. But before we get to why we are here, I have a few questions for you.”

“Such as?” Rosalyn asked hesitantly.

“You are betrothed to Lieutenant James Long?” Gwendolyn asked.

At Rosalyn’s nod, she continued, “Did you sign a betrothal document?”

“No. Why do you ask?” Rosalyn frowned. “My brother took care of all the arrangements.”

Gwendolyn’s features brightened. “That is excellent. Though I have one last question. Was the betrothal ever consummated?”

Rosalyn could feel heat rush to her cheeks. “Never. All I did was kiss the man once. And that one mistake almost cost me my life.”

“I apologise for asking such personal questions,” Gwendolyn said with a gentle smile. “I think I have someone who can help you. He is a friend of Callum’s, Geordie Buchannan, a solicitor. He was able to help Alastair and me when we had our own betrothal problems.”

“But you married Alastair.” Rosalyn curled her fingers into a tight ball, trying not to let hope blossom. Only pain and disappointment had ever occurred.

“We were betrothed and about to marry when I was kidnapped and hidden away with my siblings for five long years. In that time, Alastair attached himself to another woman, and when I returned, we had to sort out that muddle. Geordie was very helpful. I sent a message for him to come to Dunvegan. I do hope he can help you as well.”

“Thank you,” Rosalyn said, her voice tight as the hope that had threatened broke free. The thought that she might someday be legally free of the lieutenant brought a smile to her lips.

“No thanks are necessary. Someone helped me in a time of need, I am happy to help you in yours.” Gwendolyn moved to the wall and took down a sword. “Now, we should return to the reason we came to this chamber.”

“Aye,” Isolde said as she retrieved a bow and a quiver of arrows.

Fiona took down a dagger, and Aria took down a crossbow. “Have you ever used any of these weapons before?” Aria asked.

“No. My brother never let me anywhere near his weapons. In England, gentlemen do not wear swords as often as they do here,” Rosalyn replied.

“We suspected as much,” Aria said. “Let us go outside and see which of these weapons you might have a natural talent for using. Shall we?” She guided them out of the chamber and to the rear courtyard.

Outside, gusts of cool morning air brushed past Rosalyn’s cheeks. She still wasn’t certain what the women had in mind as far as teaching her anything to do with weapons, and she marvelled that they would even think to arm their enemy with any means to harm them. “Why are you doing this?”

All four women turned to her with curious expressions, but it was Isolde who stepped forward and offered her the bow. She drew an arrow and handed it to Rosalyn. “Each of us knows what it is to feel powerless, to be a victim of circumstance. We do not want that for you.”

“We all learned to fight against those who tried to keep us from becoming who we are now,” Gwendolyn said. “We don’t want you to be in the same situation where you found yourself yesterday, at the mercy of those who would harm you, with no way to defend yourself.”