Page 2 of Heart of the Highlands: The Rose (Protectors of the Crown #6)

Six months later…

Mid-October

Abby Sinclair’s eyes narrowed and focused intensely into the bushes for any sign of movement. Missing her target once already, she was determined not to miss again. She notched another arrow in place. With the nock tightly pinched between her fingers, she drew back the bowstring toward her chin. She took a sharp breath and held it as she released her grip.

The arrow soared through the air and disappeared into the bushes with a thud. Silence followed. She crept forward, not wanting to frighten the creature in case she missed it again. She spent the entire summer honing her skills and had yet to hit her target. She brushed back the thorny stems, delighted to uncover that her arrow had pierced through the heart of a hare. She reached down into the small shrub, wrapping her tiny hand and bony fingers around the rabbit’s ears, and lifted it out of the bush. It was meaty, plump in size, and weighed at least five pounds.

“Yer the bugger who’s been stealing our vegetables in the garden, aren’t ye, my wee fatty friend? Now, dinna ye go looking at me like that. ‘Tis only fair that we provided ye a good meal, and ye do us the same courtesy,” she said in a pensive tone as she grabbed the rabbit by its hind legs to carry it home.

She walked along the edge of the sea cliffs as she returned to Sinclair Hall. The smell of brine in the air left the taste of salt on her lips. The sea was calm. She could hear the waves lapping gently against the shore. She welcomed the sun's warmth on her skin and the gentle caress of the sea breeze, feeling content for the first time in days. Winter was expected to arrive early this year, leaving only a few weeks of warm weather before the blistering snow covered the land.

In the distance, the crow-stepped gables of the tower of Sinclair Hall came into view. Perched on the ledge of the ornate oriel window, which offered a spectacular view across Sinclair land, a large seabird belted out an ear-piercing call. The flock responded and flew overhead before diving into the water below. Of all creatures, Abby felt most like a seabird. Unlike morning birds that chirped outside her window to greet the day with a beautiful melody, seabirds only communicated with loud, obnoxious squawking with no rhythm or pattern. It seemed to be the only species of bird that God had forgotten to have given a song.

Abby crossed the wooden bridge that led into the courtyard. Within the walls of the bailey, soldiers and servants busied themselves with their duties. The clang of swords, the blacksmith shouting orders to his apprentice, and womenfolk corralling rowdy children resonated around her. The smell of roasted meat and freshly baked bread wafted through the air, adding to the atmosphere of her proud and studious clan.

Clan Sinclair had changed exponentially over the past ten years since the civil war ended between the Highland clans under the reign of James V of Scotland. With his daughter as Queen, Scotland was in a time of peace. After decades of feuds and battles, England agreed to end hostilities between their countries and withdrew their forces from Scotland. Almost on the verge of collapse, this action allowed her clan to thrive again. But there were clans in the north that were still a danger and a threat that could not be controlled or contained.

With the rabbit still in hand, Abby climbed the steps of the keep and entered. She went directly to the kitchen and plopped the hare onto the counter before she took a seat on the stool with a confident grin. The housemaid’s face lit up when Abby entered the room to see the gift she had brought in. Abby felt a swell of pride at her accomplishment.

“My lady, what in heaven are ye doing out this early fetching rabbits? We have men for this sort of thing,” Heloise, a housemaid nearing her fifties, reminded her, though she did not need reminding. “It's dangerous work for ye, milady,” Heloise admonished, her concern for her mistress evident in her tone.

It had already been suggested to her that she leave the hunting to the men while she devotes herself to more suitable tasks for a young lady, like embroidery, reading, and social etiquette. Not one to follow convention, Abby was not a typical young woman.

“I need no’ be coddled, Heloise. I am perfectly capable of handling my own. And might I add that this rabbit would go verra nicely wit’ yer famous rabbit stew that I enjoy so much eating.” Heloise gazed at her under her lashes. “Please do no’ tell Alys,” Abby added.

“I am afraid, Miss, she already knows. Ye skipped breakfast again. Yer sister was no’ verra happy when ye did no’ join her.”

“She’s returned?”

“Aye. Just this morning.”

Abby expected a reprimand from her sister the moment she arrived. Heloise’s warning, though appreciated, came a little too late as heavy footfalls echoed in the hall. As if a bird had whistled in her ear to tell her that Abby had returned, her sister Alys marched into the kitchen. Her face was as red as her hair. Abby’s shoulder sank as she slumped on the stool. She steeled herself for the worst but was prepared to accept what was to come and braced herself for the consequences.

“Abigail Sinclair, what have I told ye about leaving these grounds unescorted? Ye know the dangers of roaming these woods alone, so why do ye persist in doing so?”

Alys’s anger filled the room with palpable intensity.

“Ye cannae keep me locked in a tower,” she argued. “If Leland was here…”

“Well, he’s no’ here. No’ yet, at least. He’s gone to visit his brother Ian and Keira and he will no’ be back for another few days.”

“Alys, I am no’ a little girl anymore.”

“Aye, ye are. Ye know nothing of the dangers that are out there. If someone were to…”

“Stop! Ye need to stop protecting me. I am already eighteen years of age. Ever since Ma died and Keira got married, ye’ve sacrificed to raise me and I know I haven’t made it easy on ye. But I’ve made a decision, and I think it’s time for me to move on.”

“What do ye mean… move on ? This is yer home.”

“Is it that hard to believe that I may want to find a husband for myself? If I leave it up to ye, I’ll end up a spinster or a nun like Ava or Isla,” she replied in a deadpan tone, unable to shake off the fear of a meaningless life. Abby felt her stomach churn in dread as Alys’s lips twisted and the wrinkles on her forehead deepened.

“I knew it! This is about that lad ye saw at the market again, isn’t it?”

“So, what if it was?”

It had been nearly six months since that fateful day at the market, but it was memorable enough to occupy her mind and haunt her dreams. This was not a fleeting crush or youthful enthusiasm. This was a permanent stamp on her heart. The only dilemma was she hadn’t a clue who he was. She didn’t know his name or where to find him, but she knew their paths would cross again someday.

She had set out to find him with a determined mindset and full of hope. She looked for him in every place she had gone. And each day, she felt increasingly closer. Her visions intensified. She could feel his presence as if it lingered in the air. It was as if they had been in the same room, but she had only missed him by moments like two passing ships in the night. But her search ended swiftly when Alys demanded that she not leave the castle grounds.

“Abby, I know I have been hard on ye, but it’s only because I’m trying to keep ye safe.”

“Safe from what? Life?”

“Abby, ye know what ye saw in yer visions. What kind of mon will marry ye if ye cannae bear him children?”

“My visions could be wrong. They’ve been wrong before.”

Alys grabbed Abby by the hands and held them tight in hers.

“And what if they’re not? Ye are a seer, Abby. It’s an unfair curse to bear, but ye know what will happen if ye become heavy wit’ child. I will no’ lose ye the way we lost our mum. Now, I will no’ hear another word of this again.”

Born a seer, Abby had seen a great many things, both blessings and devastation alike. Despite the challenges and risks, Abby never shied away from living her life to the fullest. She believed her curse was a gift, even if she didn’t always understand it, and had oftentimes misinterpreted what her visions had shown. In the end, she did everything she could to make sense of whatever outcome she was given, no matter how grim or miraculous.

Abby was only four when she’d seen her first vision. At first, it was hard to distinguish whether her visions were a dream or a memory. Four, after all, is an impressionable age. From what she’d been told, her mother, Catherine, had passed away within a few short moments after giving birth to her. She heard a baby’s cry in her vision, followed by a woman’s desperate plea and then nothing—total blackness.

The voice was distant and faint, yet it echoed in her head like the ripples of the ocean. At first, Abby thought her vision had conjured up the past, bringing her to the very first moments of life, but the voice was all too familiar. She knew the woman she heard was not the foreign sound of her dead mother but of her own disembodied voice. It brought forth confirmation and horror. How could anyone truly live when they knew how they were going to die? As for Abby, she was to share her mother’s fate, so she had made a vow to never marry, never fall in love, and never bear a child. But this lad in the market was different. She could not rid him of her thoughts. She knew in some unexplainable way they were meant to be together. And now that she was older, she realized that to live without love is not living at all. Many great men and women died for that very thing. She wanted to be loved and would embrace it, Lord willing.

Abby brushed past Alys and ran from the kitchen, escaping to her chamber. As she climbed the steps, she could hear the sound of her sister calling her name drifting up from the kitchen. It grated on her nerves, but she tried her best to ignore it, causing her to quicken her pace, eager to escape the sound of her sister's wretched voice. Her eyes were wet with tears as she climbed the steps two at a time until she reached the second floor where her room was located, down at the end of the hall. As she stepped inside, she slammed the door with such force the painted portrait of her mother rattled on the wall. Without warning, the picture fell.

She reached out her hand to catch it, but gravity was faster. The frame shattered upon hitting the hard wooden floor. Tears welled in her eyes once again, blurring the broken pieces. She stared at the door with ragged breaths as her emotions boiled over. She waited, expecting Alys to burst into the room any moment now and scold her for disrespecting her wishes, but as the seconds passed, all remained silent. Abby knelt and carefully picked up the pieces, trying to salvage whatever she could. She ran her fingers along the broken edges, her heart aching with every jagged piece she touched.

A part of her was angry that she had ever been born. No one else in her family shared this curse. Often, she wondered if her mother knew what was to transpire after she had given birth to her. For years, Abby carried the guilt and blame for killing her mother, but what if she knew? What if Catherine had known the outcome but had freely given up her life for her child? Abby wondered if she could ever be strong enough or brave enough to do the same, but what if that was her destiny?

Abby gathered up the broken pieces and placed them on her dresser. The canvas had a small tear, but there was a chance it could be mended. As for the frame, it would have to be replaced. Satisfied she’d be left alone to her thoughts, she fell flat onto the bed, her arms stretched out wide. She could no longer count the number of times she’d counted the knots on the ceiling. There were seventy-four to be precise, and she wished on each of them like stars.

As she silently wished for a hopeful future, she allowed her thoughts to drift. She felt a spark of courage and optimism; with that, she knew that no matter what happened, she’d find the strength to get through it just as her sisters had with their trials and tribulations. At least that’s what she told herself. The Bible taught her to live for today and not for tomorrow, and that is all she could do.

A quiet tap rattled the door, which had interrupted her thoughts. She sprang from her bed. Quickly, she snatched the cloak that was resting on the back of the chair in front of the hearth and tossed it up onto the dresser to cover the broken picture frame. She braced herself, waiting for her sister to enter. Alys would have killed her to find their mother’s picture torn. She tensed as the door opened, but as Heloise stepped inside, relief followed. As her tense shoulders began to settle, she took a reassuring breath.

“My lady, is everything all right? I’ve been knocking. Why did ye no’ answer?”

“I’m sorry. I dinna hear ye.”

Heloise looked at her suspiciously, her lips pursed, and her eyes narrowed. After being Abby’s nursemaid her entire life and having known all the trouble and mischief she has gotten into over the years, their close relationship often compelled Heloise to turn a blind eye. Abby glanced away, trying to keep Heloise from looking at the pile on her dresser. Slowly shaking her head, Heloise's disapproval was palpable in the silence. She was clearly not fooled by Abby's deception but did not press the issue further.

“Yer sister wanted me to remind ye that you are to accompany her to West Mey first thing in the morning. The Earl and Countess have acquired some land there and are considering building a second home. They are to meet with the landowner.”

“I have no’ forgotten.”

That was another lie. She had forgotten about traveling north and was unsure why her sister was so insistent she came with her. It was probably another one of Alys’s devious ways to keep an eye on her.

“Well, milady, it’s time to wash up for supper, and I’d suggest to no’ be late this time.”