Page 46 of The Story of his Highland Bride
If she’d thought the trail to the Cairns was hard to find with barely any snow on the ground, it was near impossible now, with the heavens seemingly determined to cover all traces of her way home. It would’ve been much easier if she’d still had Claymore with her, but the stallion had refused to enter the Cairns, forcing her to dismount and continue on alone.
“I know it’s around here somewhere,” she mumbled to herself, weaving through the trees, thankful that it was daylight.
A few times, she nearly toppled right over a few strange lumps that protruded from the ever-thickening snow, but with an icy tremor setting into her veins, she couldn’t waste any time on being face first in the ground. So, she picked herself up and carried on, hoping that she was traveling in the right direction.
Where is he now?Eloise’s heart ached worse than her stiff legs and numb bones as she finally allowed herself to think about Jackson.Did he get hurt? There were so many of them—
Tears stung her eyes as she remembered that final image of him before Claymore took her too far into the trees: he’d looked ather with such sadness, such love, such loss that she’d almost turned back right there and then. If it hadn’t been for the sword-wielding maniacs who seemed to want her dead, she might’ve done.
“You said you’d wait,” she whispered, hugging herself to try and coax some warmth back into her body. “It was a big promise, but… I hope you kept it.”
Tucking her chin into the neckline of her cloak, she knew there was only one way to find out. But first, she needed to get out of the forest alive, for the second time in one day.
Castle Faulkner loomed ahead of Eloise, as she stumbled up to the gates. The light dusting of snow had transformed into a blizzard, and though she’d been walking for hours, fully believing that she’d been walking in circles, she’d finally found the road. And that road had led her to exactly where she wanted to be, albeit in an almost frostbitten, numb state.
“What business do ye have here?” A guard appeared in front of her, his hand resting on the pommel of his broadsword.
Too weary and cold to make any kind of argument, she simply said, “Send for Laird Faulkner or Lennox. They know who I am.”
“Who are ye?” The guard did not seem to want to budge.
“I’m the woman that His Lairdship loves, and if you leave me out here in the middle of a snowstorm, and I collapse and die from the cold—which I’m on the verge of doing—he’ll have you locked in his dungeons so fast it’ll make your head spin!” She was surprised by the vehemence in her voice, but, in fairness, she was shaking so hard she thought her chattering teeth might crack.
The guard blinked. “Are ye Miss Eloise?”
“Oh, so youhaveheard of me. Yes, I’m Eloise.”
Immediately, the guard’s demeanor shifted. “Apologies, Miss Eloise. I was told to watch for anyone by that name, but… I was told ye wouldn’ae be arrivin’ for a long while.” He took hold of her arm and helped her across the cobbled courtyard, to the castle’s main entrance. “Please, forgive me,” he added, as he ushered her into the entrance hall.
“You’re forgiven,” Eloise replied, closing her eyes for a moment, as she let the familiar smells and sounds envelop her. “Wait.”
The guard halted mid-step. “Aye, Miss Eloise?”
“Do you know where His Lairdship is?”
“Aye, Miss Eloise. He’s in his bedchamber. Old Joan is tendin’ to his injuries.”
Eloise’s heart lurched into her throat. “Injuries?”
“I daenae ken much about it, Miss Eloise. Ye’d have to ask Old Joan.” The guard paused. “All I ken is that he’s nae farin’ well, but I have faith in him—he’ll survive. He has to.”
Without another word, Eloise took off, racing through the labyrinth of hallways that made up the castle’s interior, no longer caring about her own aches and pains. Deep down, she’d known that something bad must have happened to Jackson, otherwise he would’ve come looking for her among the Cairns. He’d have wanted to be sure that she made it to her world, and he’d have found her hiding.
Please don’t die,she begged as she ran.Please, please, please don’t die, or all of this will be for nothing.
Skidding to a halt outside Jackson’s chamber, she didn’t bother to knock before bursting in, frightening Old Joan so badly that she actually screamed.
“What in Heaven’s name is wrong with ye, Lass?” the old woman barked, clutching at her chest. “Ye could’ve killed me with the shock!”
But Eloise barely heard the old woman’s protests, as her gaze moved toward the bed where Jackson lay. His face was drained of color, his lips bloodless, his body shrouded in layers and layers of blankets, while sweat dampened his hair. To her heartbroken eyes, it already looked like she was too late.
“Och, daenae start wailin’,” Old Joan scolded softly, recovering from the fright. “He’s nae dead, he’s just restin’. The woundwasnae too deep, but he lost a good deal of blood. All he needs is some sleep and some food and someone to sit at his bedside, and he’ll have some color in his cheeks again before ye ken it.”
Hesitantly, Eloise approached Jackson’s bedside. Old Joan stepped aside for her, patting her gently on the shoulder as she passed.
“I’m pleased to see ye again so soon,” the old woman said, with a knowing smile. “Lennox tried to explain what had happened, but I had a feelin’ in me bones that ye were still with us. Fortunately for me, there’s nay priest to accuse me of bein’ a witch and burnin’ me at the stake.”
Eloise frowned at the healer. “No priest? What do you mean?”
