Page 16 of Bride of the Mad Laird
As they mounted Paden and turned him back onto the track, there was still a vexatioussmirrdrifting in the air,not as heavy as mist, yet with the power to wet a body to the bone if they were exposed to it long enough.
They set off into the fading light.
“I hoped we’d be at the castle before nightfall, but it seems we may need to travel the last few miles in darkness. Are ye up fer it, Lyra?”
“Aye. I’ve a few miles left in me yet.”
Once it was night, the clouds covering the moon, and a pitch black, velvety darkness enveloped them, Tòrr dismounted holding the reins, leading Paden.
“The way tae the castle is nae far now, but ‘tis rough. Even though Paden’s sure-footed, I’ll walk ahead in case there’s a loose rock or a burrow on the track.”
Lyra sighed as the lights of the castle at last came into view. This was the end of her respite from the everyday world and she was reluctant to bid it farewell.
The path to the castle was steep, and even without moonlight, she could see it perched high on an outcropping overlooking the sea. Tall, forbidding walls rose up before them as they paced the final mile to the gate.
As they approached, a harsh voice called down from the wall.
“Who goes? Name yerself.”
Tòrr laughed and called in response. “’Tis the Laird Tòrr MacKinnon who goes. Is it ye Davy, up there, keeping watch?”
The harshness was gone with an answering chuckle. “Why me laird, welcome home.”
With that, the vast oaken gate creaked open and, as they crossed a small timber bridge over the baily and entered the torchlit courtyard, another man stepped out to greet them.
“Edmund.” Tòrr’s voice rang out. ‘Tis good tae see ye, lad.”
The two men embraced as a groom raced forward to take Paden’s reins. Tòrr turned to Lyra and helped her down.
“I wasnae certain when ye’d arrive.” Edmund said, “Orifye’d arrive. Things were nae pleasant when I saw the last of ye wi’ a party of ruffians on yer tail.”
“And I can say the same for ye. ‘Tis glad I am that ye escaped the gallowglasses and made it safely home.”
Edmund bowed from the waist. “Welcome Lady Lyra, tae Dùn Ara.”
She curtsied. “And I thank ye fer all ye’ve done fer me.”
Tòrr laughed. “And who was it who brought ye safely tae the castle?”
Edmund huffed. “But who was the lad who led the gallowglasses on a merry chase so yer road would be free of the rascals?”
Lyra gave a short laugh. “I thank ye both. Without yer bravery I’d nay be here now, but in the clutches of…”
Both men turned to look at her. “In the clutches of… who?”
Flustered, Lyra glanced from Tòrr to Edmund, both of them looking at her expectantly. Yet something held her back from naming the Laird Alexander MacDougall as her enemy. She was still without proof that he was behind this.
“Why… in the clutches of the mercenaries.”
“Come,” Edmund urged. “We’ve much tae talk of, but ‘tis time ye warmed yerselves by the fire, and seated yerselves before a meal in the refectory.”
“Och, I look forward tae hearing the news.”
Edmund shook his head. “There’s good and bad news. The good news is that ye’re here safely, as am I, yet now that I’ve learned who is behind the gallowglasses, I fear the news is nae so good.”
Lyra let out a gasp and Tòrr turned to her. “Are ye all right, lass, ye’ve turned as white as Paden’s mane?”
She shook her head. “I too, am anxious tae hear the name of me enemy.”
