Page 47

CHAPTER ONE

Lady Vivian Ashcombe knelt at her bedside with her palms pressed together.

“…and thank you, Lord for all the blessings you bestow upon me and all those who keep me safe every day.”

As she took another breath to continue her prayer, a light knock sounded on the door of her small room.

Vivian pulled herself up from her knees floor before bidding the visitor entry. The door opened and Mother Moira, the abbess of the nunnery, stepped inside.

“Hello, me child,” she said, her tone as soft as it had always been.

The abbess was an older woman, but then, she had been an older woman when Vivian had arrived at the priory at only ten years of age.

Now, eleven years later, Mother Moira looked no different, as though once she had reached a certain age she could age no further.

A strong-willed and quietly powerful woman with ties to Highland nobility, she was like a grandmother to Vivian.

“A missive has arrived fer ye,” she said, handing Vivian the letter she held in her hand.

“For me?” Vivian frowned.

Mother Moira lifted her eyebrows. “Indeed, I was surprised too.”

There was only one person who knew where she was hiding. In fact, it was he who had sent her away, for her safety. However, her father did not write very often, for fear that her location might be discovered.

“I will leave ye in peace tae read it,” the abbess said, turning and leaving the room as quietly as she had entered it.

Now alone and avidly curious, Vivian broke the wax seal and began to read.

Dear Vivian,

It is with great sadness and a heavy heart that I write to you. What we feared the most has happened. Your father is no more.

Laird Sutherland attacked your father’s stronghold, and in the battle, the laird killed him.

“No!” Vivian cried, grasping the letter to her bosom.

The tears welled in her eyes, while, at the same time, panic took over her entire being. Desperately pushing the growing anxiety down, she had to keep reading.

As the oldest daughter, you inherit everything. But do not return here. It is too dangerous. Your father gave you a plan. Follow it to the letter. Be careful on your journey, and do not trust anyone.

Until we meet again, I remain your faithful servant.

Regards

James Buckley

A sob broke from her chest as she tried to fight back the tears. All these years she had longed for the day when her father would wrap his arms around her once more. The day when it would be safe enough for her to leave hiding and return home. Now, she would never lay eyes on her father again.

But glancing back at James Buckley’s words—he had been her father’s closest advisor and companion—she gave herself only a moment to deal with the shock before shaking herself. There was no time for grief. Not now. She had to leave, and she had to do so immediately.

Hurrying to her single closet, Vivian grabbed a cloth bag.

Tossing it onto the bed, she began grabbing the few possessions she owned, throwing them in at a great pace.

Laird Sutherland could be on his way to her that very minute.

For both her and the nuns’ safety, she had to get as far away as she could in as little time as possible.

Hidden under the name Lady Vyne, Vivian had lived at Beauly Priory of St. Dwynwen for most of her life.

Located west of Inverness, in the northern Highlands, nestled in fertile lands near the River Beauly, the priory had been secretly reestablished by noble Highland women after the 1560 Scottish Reformation.

They had been supported by the Mackenzie clan, who continued to discreetly protect it to ensure no Crown authority would interfere.

But now, that protection would not be enough. Besides, if she stayed, all who resided there would be in grave danger. Laird Sutherland was a ruthless man who would did not care who he had to smite to get to her. There was no choice. She had to go, and it had to be now.

As items were tossed with little care into the cloth bag, Vivian began worrying about Aveline.

While Vivian had been sent to the priory, her little sister had been too young, and thus, their father had sent her to stay with relatives.

She currently lived in a manor in England, far from their family home.

But even with that knowledge, Vivian wondered how resourceful Laird Sutherland could truly be.

What if he discovers where she’s being kept? What if he sends men to find her?

She shook her head then. She did not have the luxury of losing her wits. With her possessions packed, Vivian dropped to her knees, but not to say anymore prayers. Instead, she reached under the bed and pulled out a small bag that had been tucked away, hidden but to hand for this very purpose.

Pulling the strings of the bag open, she emptied its contents on the bed.

Coins, a map, and a piece of parchment fell out onto the coverlet.

Ignoring the other items, she picked up the parchment and unfolded it.

It had been a long time since she had read what was written on it, but the words remained the same.

The instructions were clear; travel inland and south through Strathglass and Lochaber, and reach the coast. There, she was to meet a contact of her father’s old allies, a man who would help her get on a ship toward Berwick-upon-Tweed.

Then head south toward the English border to find Aveline and secure her sister’s safety.

With her cloth bag over her shoulder, Vivian moved to the door. After opening it, she turned back, her eyes trawling over the room she had occupied for just over a decade.

“I will never return here,” she whispered absently.

She didn’t know how she knew. It was simply a feeling, but so intense, it had to be true.

Once Mother Moira found out what had happened, things moved quickly. A horse was arranged, and the abbess imparted words of wisdom, the final words the two would ever share.

“Dinnae delay, Vivian, and be careful. Ye will attract attention with yer petite frame and noble behavior. With that beautiful chestnut hair, and those wide hazel eyes, nae even the habit will protect ye. Ye must trust that the Lord will tak’ care o’ ye on yer journey.”

The women hurried to the courtyard, where they found Sister Aida waiting beside a fine mare.

“She is the best we have,” the sister said with a sad smile. “But it is ye we will miss the most.”

Tears were welling in her eyes as she spoke. It took all the strength Vivian could muster not to burst into sobs right there and then. But she had to be strong. For her father and for Aveline.

With a final embrace from Mother Moira and Sister Aida, Vivian mounted the beast.

Looking down at the woman who had loved her as though she were her own, she said, “Thank you for everything. I will never forget you.”

The abbess smiled with her usual fortitude. “Nor I ye, me child. Now, go.”

Hours passed as she rode on and on, hoping with all her might that she was heading in the right direction.

On occasion, she would stop and rest both herself and the horse.

For a certainty, the beast was far more accustomed to the taxing journey than Vivian.

This was the first time she had navigated the world on her own, and though she knew she had to do it, she was also aware of how ill-equipped she was.

The priory had protected her, kept her safe.

Now she had to brave a world she had never experienced.

At times, her mind wandered. She wondered if her father had suffered when he had died. Whether he had been frightened or in agony. Whether he had been alone, or with Laird Sutherland.

Then she would think of Aveline. Would her sister know? Would James Buckley have sent her a letter too? Would it have reached her yet?

The sun lowered in the sky and dusk settled around her, yet she continued on, hoping to reach the next village. But as she ventured forth, the sky only darkened more without a place to stay in sight.

“I cannot stay out here all night. Surely, I will freeze to death.”

Even as she lamented, she heard voices up ahead.

Many voices, as though there was a group gathered.

Hope rose in her for a fleeting second, but then it left her just as quickly.

As she made her way forward, it was not a village that opened up in front of her, but a small inn at the side of the road.

The kind of place Mother Moira had told her to avoid.

What choice do I have? It is nearly dark, and besides, I need to eat and sleep.

With trepidation, Vivian brought her horse to a steady stop outside the inn and warily dismounted.

A young lad appeared from nowhere. “I’ll take her fer ye. We have a small stable at the back.”

“Thank you,” Vivian replied.

The boy’s eyes narrowed at the sound of her voice, for as long as she had lived in the priory, she had maintained the accent of the English.

“Here,” she said, worried he was about to recant his offer. She handed him a coin she lifted from her pocket and placed it in his palm. “I’d be very grateful if you took good care of her.”

The coin seemed to appease him, and the smile returned to his face. “O’ course, Miss.” He then led the mare away, leaving Vivian standing there, her heart thumping in her chest at the thought of venturing inside the loud building.

Taking a deep breath in, she tried to steel herself and bolster her courage.

Move, Vivian. Just put one foot in front of the other and move.

Upon opening the door, the sound of the muted conversation got louder. Her eyes scoured the room, moving from one person to the other. She quickly noted that apart from two other women, a cackling hag and an older woman who seemed lost in her own little world, the inn was full of men.