Page 1 of Heart of the Highlands: The Rose (Protectors of the Crown #6)
April 1551, Scottish Highlands
She smelled it before even seeing it, the rows of lavender fields blooming near the market outside Inverness. The last of the snow had just melted, and this was the first week the weather had warmed considerably enough to enjoy. Abigail Sinclair had traveled with her sister, Alys, to purchase textiles for new dresses to be fashioned and embroidered. The birth of her sister's fourth child left Alys unable to wear many of her older gowns, and she had to make do with her limited wardrobe until she slimmed down and her figure returned.
The marketplace, situated in the expansive courtyard just outside the castle walls, bustled with activity as the afternoon sun cast a warm glow over the vibrant scene. The air was filled with the enticing aromas of freshly baked bread, sizzling meats, and fragrant herbs. Merchants called out to potential buyers, their voices competing to attract attention.
Nearby, the clanging of metal on metal resonated from a blacksmith's stall. The blacksmith, muscles bulging as he worked the bellows, expertly forged a new sword. Sparks flew, illuminating his focused expression.
Abby and Alys continued the path toward a cluster of tailors showcasing their finely woven fabrics and garments. The seamstress, a middle-aged woman who looked tired beyond her years, deftly threaded a needle, her nimble fingers fashioning intricate embroidery on a luxurious purple silk gown, fit for royalty.
Abby watched with admiration as her sister, Alys, fanned through a stack of vibrant-colored fabric. The sun’s light played upon the rich hues, illuminating the array of options available. Alys's fingers gently brushed against the soft textures, weighing the choices before her. Abby did not need as much time perusing as Alys did to pick out her favorite color, for she always chose teal in particular—not too green, not too blue, but a color that matched the sea and was flattering with her orange spiced-colored hair.
While waiting, Abby couldn't resist the allure of the bustling market. She spun around, taking in the sights and sounds that surrounded her. It was the first time she’d been out since the long winter. The energy of the marketplace enveloped her, mingling with the enticing fragrances of spices and freshly baked goods that filled the air. She breathed in deep and deliberately.
It had been months since she’d left the grounds of Sinclair Hall, and she was eager to explore and engage in conversation with other young women her age. Alys kept Abby on such a short rope she hadn’t even made a new friend in a year. But this year, Abby swore it would be different. This summer, she’d turn eighteen, a prime age for young women to secure themselves a husband and learn how to run a household. But that was not the life Abby would have, although it was all she had wanted for herself for the past three years as she watched friends, cousins, and other neighboring ladies progress forward with their lives. Some even welcomed children.
She was grateful for her sister Alys and her brother-in-law Leland, who had taken her in and raised her, but she was not a child anymore—something Alys refused to see.
Abby’s gaze wandered to the grand structure that loomed above the village below—the majestic Inverness Castle. Its gray stone facade, weathered by centuries of history, stood firm against the passage of time. Two round turrets adorned the castle's corners, their conical roofs pointing skyward like ancient sentinels. The sun cast gentle shadows on the rough surface of the stone walls, revealing the castle's scars and stories.
High on the hill, the castle's keep stood tall and proud, overseeing the surrounding landscape and the River Ness. Abby marveled at the thought of the stories that echoed within those ancient walls—the triumphs and tragedies, the rulers and rebels, all contributing to the castle's rich tapestry of lore.
Lost in her musings, Abby turned her attention back to Alys, who had made her choice—a deep indigo fabric that shimmered like the night sky. The sisters exchanged smiles; their excitement mirrored in their eyes. With their newfound treasures in hand, they continued their exploration of the castle market.
Pass the stalls and across the road where green fields had burst into brilliant colors as spring flowers began to bloom, Abby’s attention was stolen by a pair of dark, masculine eyes that had locked onto hers. A spark of recognition coursed through her, nearly knocking her off her feet. She was inexplicably drawn toward him. She knew him, and the way his gaze matched hers, she was sure he also knew her. Though it was as impossible as it may have seemed, he was the man haunting her visions as of late. Nightly, actually, for more than a month. And now, there he was in the flesh. She was as certain of it as she was of her own reflection.
It was just a fleeting look, a mere moment, yet its impact lingered within her as if time had momentarily suspended around them. The intensity of his gaze penetrated her, stirring emotions she had never known. It was as if this stranger had seen through the layers of her existence, unraveling the depths of her soul with a single glance. She had not understood the visions she had. They were often alone in a dark, damp room that could only be described as a cave. And all she had remembered was seeing his face, the shimmering orange glow of a fire reflecting on his skin as they lay side by side in silence.
She knew the exact color of his eyes, a dark, stormy blue, the curve of his jawline, and even the feel of his arms around her. She even knew his voice. The only thing she didn’t know about him was who he was or how a brief exchange of glances could elicit such a profound response within her.
Linked arm and arm with her sister, Alys, who walked at an exceptionally fast pace, pulled Abby down the road, causing her to lose him in the crowd. With each step further away from him, an unexplainable ache tugged at Abby's heart. Her curiosity, fueled by an inexplicable attraction, became an invisible thread that tugged at her, urging her to seek him out amidst the crowd. Unable to resist the yearning that had taken hold of her, Abby disentangled herself from her sister's arm.
“Abby, where are ye going?”
Abby strained to hear Alys’s voice over the loud commotion in the market as she navigated through the bustling crowd with determination to find him. Her senses were heightened, attuned to any sign or glimpse of him, as she ignored her sister’s call. Her eyes scanned faces, hoping to catch a familiar glimpse, but to her dismay, he was gone. She paused long enough for Alys to catch up to her.
“Abby, what are ye doing? We must go,” Alys insisted, gently touching Abby’s arm.
“Do ye see him?” she asked, continuing to scan the crowd.
“See who?”
“The man who was standing across the field.”
Alys scanned the crowd.
“I dinna see anyone. Now make haste,” Alys said, motioning her to follow.
“But ye dinna understand. I must find him.”
“Find who?”
Abby turned away from the question, a sense of frustration building within her. Each passing minute felt like wasted time, slipping through her fingers like sand. She scanned the area with growing urgency, her heart racing as she searched every corner, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. But after searching for what felt like an eternity—half an hour, to be exact—he was still nowhere in sight, leaving her increasingly anxious.
“Abby, whoever ye think ye saw is now gone. ‘Tis time to go home.”
Abby released the breath she’d been holding as she gave up the pursuit and followed her sister to the stables. They returned to the horses in silence, the sound of footsteps echoing her unspoken disappointment. She had visions of him for a reason and needed to know why. She made a resolute vow that she would find him again.