Page 9 of Enchanted

A chill ran across Rosalyn’s nape. Was that what had happened in the forest near Struan? Had her father’s family come after her, trying to stop her from continuing the de Clare line with her husband?

Rosalyn’s gaze shifted to the man lying face down across Keiran’s horse. “Do you think the English soldier will survive?” she asked, breaking the silence that had fallen between them.

“He will live to tell us why he and the others attacked you,” Keiran assured her as they approached the castle’s gate. The torches had been lit and Rosalyn could see men gathered just beyond the gate on horseback. At the sight of them, a call went out to the gatekeeper and the iron portcullis rose.

As she and Keiran moved closer to those gathered, Rosalyn swallowed nervously as she clearly saw twenty Scottish men on horseback.

“Praise the heavens you have returned,” exclaimed one of the men near the front of those assembled. He dismounted quickly and came towards them. “We were about to come looking for you. We had feared the worst when you did not return as expected.”

Keiran slid from his horse. “The English attacked the Nicolson clan before I arrived.” He withdrew the missive from the folds of his tartan and handed it to the man.

Two other men who looked very similar to the first dismounted and came forward. “Thank goodness you are still alive. I never would have forgiven myself if something had happened to you.” The other similar-looking man frowned as his gaze shifted between Keiran, the soldier upon Keiran’s horse, then to her and her bloodied gown. “Although it is obvious something happened.”

“I was returning to Dunvegan when I came upon a skirmish in the woods. This woman’s party was attacked by an English patrol. All her men were killed, and she was injured. Two of the English soldiers escaped, leaving their dead behind.”

“Was injured?” one of the men asked, frowning at the blood on her dress.

“I managed to stop the worst of the bleeding, but our healer should examine her to be certain.” Keiran reached up and lifted her down from her horse, keeping his hands at her waist. When he was certain she could stand on her own, Keiran stepped back and waved two of the men forward to help him with the English soldier. “This man can tell us why Rosalyn’s travelling party was attacked. Take him to Lottie first to assure he lives but tie him to the bed. We cannot have him escape and inform the English where this young woman ended up.”

One of the men came to stand before her. “Rosalyn?”

She nodded, shifting uncomfortably, uneasy with his scrutiny. She was the one who usually studied people. It was disconcerting for him to look at her and see . . . what? What did he see? Because he did not look at her with the same cool calculation most of the English aristocracy did.

“Welcome to Dunvegan. I am Alastair MacLeod, and these are my brothers Tormod and Orrick. Let’s get you inside to a bedchamber so that Lottie, our healer, can mend your wounds. I will have my wife, Gwendolyn, supply you with clothing.”

This was not what she’d expected from the Scottish people who had always been the villains in the stories told by her brother since she was young. Perhaps they were only being kind so that she would let down her guard. And for what? She had no information about the English in the area beyond what Alastair now knew after reading Keiran’s missive.

Why were they being so kind to her? She was positive the English would not be so hospitable if their situations were reversed. Even so, Rosalyn swallowed roughly as she allowed the man to lead her forward, towards a fair-haired woman waiting at the castle doorway.

“All will be well,” Keiran called as she moved towards the doorway.

She glanced back at him, almost believing him. Sweet heavens, she needed someone who she could trust in this world suddenly turned upside down. Separated from her home and life in England, she was now alone in a country, surrounded by people she feared. She needed someone she could trust, someone to talk to, someone who would understand how tired she was of never being able to pursue her own dreams and goals.

Rosalyn shook herself as a gust of cold wind blew through the courtyard. What was she thinking? After the turmoil she’d been through in the past few days, had she learned nothing? Her dreams did not matter, and she could trust no one. Not her brother. Not Keiran. Her features hardened.

Keiran frowned as he turned back to speak to Tormod and Orrick.

She returned her gaze to the beautiful woman in the doorway. At her welcoming smile something blossomed in Rosalyn’s chest, but with her next heartbeat, she forced the emotion aside. These people were the enemy.

She could not stay at Dunvegan, and she could not go back to her home in London without a husband. With few other options, she would have to find a way to escape the MacLeods and make her way back to where James’s regiment was located. Marriage was the only thing that would save her from ruin. Rosalyn straightened as Alastair stopped before his wife.

“Gwendolyn, meet Rosalyn. She will be staying with us for a while.”

“My goodness,” Gwendolyn said looking down at Rosalyn’s dress. “It appears you have had a very difficult day.” She reached for Rosalyn’s arm, taking it gently and encouraging her forward. “Come with me. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

“Thank you,” Rosalyn replied with a sudden tightness in her chest as she stepped inside the castle. They moved together up one staircase, then another before heading down a long hallway. As they walked, Rosalyn reminded herself that she could accept the MacLeods’ kindness now, then wait for an opportunity to leave without anyone noticing.

Her future depended on it.