Page 16 of The Thief (Castle Blackstone #3)
There is a God.
Ian leaned against the thatched cottage’s wall and crossed his arms over his chest to watch Kate battle her outraged assailants.
The goose, an hefty adult gander by the looks of him, would have done anyone’s Michalmas banquet proud. The goose’s rotund owner looked to be the kind of woman who grabbed hold of life with both hands, as evidenced by her girth and the way she was swinging her willow broom.
Ian had been trotting past the cottage when the screams and horrendous honking started, had ridden into the copse to investigate and been reward with finding Thor. Peering through the bushes with claymore in hand, he then spied Kate and her attackers. Thinking she deserved a good thrashing for scaring him near to death-—and more than pleased he wasn’t the one having to do it--he decided to let her fend for herself for a wee bit while he tended the horses. After tying the gelding behind Thor, he took his time leading them to the cottage.
Ack! A thin red slash erupted on Kate’s cheek. The sight made something in his chest contract and he straightened. “ Enough !”
The old woman spun at the sound of his voice, her nearly ruined broom waving over her shoulder. Her eyes grew wide when they found him, and the broom slipped from her hands. “My lord!”
“Mistress.”
The goose, on the other hand, paid him no heed.
Striding past the gaping woman, Ian grabbed Kate by the waist and knocked the goose in the head with his elbow. It immediately fell at his feet, floundered a bit before it gave itself a good shake, and apparently deciding it had done its duty, quietly waddled away.
Kate, her chest heaving, tears streaming down her face, collapsed against him. “Ian! I just...I was so hungry...and then the goose. Oh God.” She buried her face against his shoulder.
Ian rolled his eyes. “Mistress, ye’ll have to pardon my ladywife.” He made a swirling motion next to his ear with his free hand, silently indicating Kate was seriously crazed. When the auld woman’s eyes grew wide, Ian nodded and murmured, “As a belfry bat. She escaped and well, I thank ye for catching her and will pay for any damage she has caused.”
Kate, apparently calm enough to listen, suddenly pushed off his chest. Looking absolutely appalled, she asked, “Did you just tell this woman that I’m mad?” She slapped his arm. “How could you? Augh!”
Taking a shuddering breath, she pushed the hair out of her eyes and faced the woman who‘d nearly been her undoing. Pointing an accusing finger back at him Kate shouted, “This...this man intends to torture me. Aye. He plans to put me in a donjon where rats will eat my toes and all because I coshed him on the head with a chamber pot and then stole his precious destrier and...and...”
Ian grinned as Kate stuttered to a stop, apparently realizing she was making matters worse for herself. What he didn’t expect was for her to calmly straighten her bodice with both hands, lift her chin to a haughty angle and then bolt like a deer on the run...for the horses.
“Oh no, you don’t.”
Damn those long legs of hers!
He thundered after her, his claymore slapping his back. Only feet from Thor, he snatched her up by the waist, swung her about and threw her over his shoulder. “Ha!”
Kate kicked and bucked, her fists pounding on his back. “Let me go!”
Not in this lifetime. “Nay, now hush or I’ll gag you.”
“You wouldn’t dare!”
He laughed. Oh, he most certainly would. “Thor, down.”
The horse dropped to his knees, straining the lead rope attached to Albany’s gelding. Ian grabbed the length of leather attached to a ring on his saddle that he carried for repairs. None too gently he pulled Kate off his shoulder and tied her wrists together. He then tossed her onto Thor’s saddle and squeezed in behind her, his hips pressing her against the high pummel. Pulling his sporran out of the way he muttered, “Up, Thor.”
Grunting, his dependable mount rocked back onto his haunches, and rose, first onto his front legs then lifting his rear. He then shook like a wet dog, making Kate gasp and grab his mane. Good. She hasn’t grown overconfident.
Ian guided Thor toward the auld woman, who stood gaping in the garden. “For yer trouble, mistress. I do apologize.” He tossed three coins at her feet and turned toward home.
How he was going to get past the roving pockpud patrols in broad daylight whilst on a white horse with one of their countrywomen tied to his saddle he had yet to fathom.
~#~
Two hours later, Kate muttered, “My hands are numb.”
Ian reached forward, his left hand brushing her breast, and placed it over hers. “They’re still warm.”
“You really are insufferable.” Her left breast tingled where his hand had slowly grazed, and she’d bet her next meal that he had done it deliberately.
Ian snorted. “So ye say. ”
“I do say.” Truly insufferable. He’d not only caught her and was taking her back to Stirling where rats and God only knew what else awaited her, but his hands weren’t the only things driving her to distraction. His hot thighs and groin were causing her an inordinate amount of discomfort, calling to mind their intimacy in the passageway, which she had absolutely no desire to recall. Which, of course, she now did.
He startled her out of her reverie by asking, “Why did ye not seek protection in Roxburgh? I could not have reached ye there.”
True. But she had had no choice but to bypass Roxburgh. Had she been questioned--and she didn’t think for a minute that she would not have been--she had no explanation for being there. “Not that it’s any of your concern, but I hadn’t thought to.”
“Humph.”
She craned her neck to look at him. “What exactly do you mean by humph ?”
“It means I don’t believe you.”
“Fine.” She huffed and focused on the land rising before them--on that special shade of green found only in spring and the tiny buttercups poking out here and there from beneath the remnants of last year’s fallen leaves.
Would she be home by the time the roses draping over her front door were ready to bloom or would she be locked away in Stirling’s donjon? Life was so unfair. Here she’d been trying to do a good deed and save countless lives. And what does she get for her trouble? A short future full of rats and a bruised body, thanks to an irate goose.
Thinking about the goose brought to mind the eggs, and her middle rumbled and ached. Knowing there was nothing she could do about it but feeling petulant and needing to complain all the same, she grumbled, “I’m hungry.”
He was apparently petulant as well, for he grumbled, “And ye’ll remain so for another few hours.”
“Fine.” At least he planned to feed her. Sometime.
Resigned to waiting, she looked about, wondering why they were staying so close to tree lines. Why were they taking gullies and burns, instead of racing across the wide expanses of verdant pasture and fields? Or at the least taking the less-traveled roads. Men. She would never understand—
Hhhheee!
Thor’s sudden whinny and the cock of his head caused her to look over her shoulder where she spied six, mayhap more, riders coming at them over a distant rise. Ian, apparently seeing the same, growled, “Shit! Hold on lass.”
Thor lurched into an all-out run. Feeling the saddle suddenly jerk beneath her, Kate squealed. The black horse behind them was balking and because of it the men chasing them had gained ground. No sooner had that worry crossed her mind, when Ian gripped the hilt of his claymore. The broadsword sang as it came out of its leather sheath, arched behind her and severed the rope holding the horses together.
Kate gasped as she watched the black run off, parallel to their direction. “But your horse!”
Ian leaned forward, which pressed Kate against the pummel. “We haven’t time for his nonsense. He’ll find his way home or he won’t.”
Grasping onto the pummel as best she could, given her bound hands, nearly made breathless by the speed Ian coaxed out of Thor, she gasped, “Who are they?”
“Pock--English. Likely from Roxburgh.”
Oh, no! Not good. She frantically prayed that Thor would take the hill before them with the utmost speed. When they crested it, she was facing a steep, boulder-strewn downward slope, and Ian kicked hard again, causing her to fall back or fall off. Scrunched her eyes shut, she could only pray they survived.
Jarred forward, her eyes flew open just as Ian’s arm tightened about her waist. They were now at the bottom of a river ravine. Ian turned Thor’s head to the right, and immediately they were racing along the rocky riverbed, icy water flying, soaking them to their knees. How the horse tolerated such cold was beyond her.
Moments later, Ian turned Thor into a nearly vertical, heavily forested incline. Merciful Mary! How were they to get through such? A heartbeat later she found out.
What Thor’s chest could not break through, they went around. Sort of. She wasn’t really sure. Fearing her eyes might be plucked out before she scant realized they were in danger, she folded over Thor’s neck as best she could and used her arms to protect her head.
Thor finally leveled beneath her, his hooves clopping on what sounded like stone. She was no longer being whipped by branches, no longer awash in the scent of pine sap but being buffeted by a crisp wind. Not trusting that they weren’t simply in a tiny glen and that she would soon be assaulted again, Kate murmured, “Is it safe to open my eyes?”
Ian whispered, “Depends on what ye call safe.”
More aware of the wind, she opened her eyes and her breath caught.
There was naught to her left but a straight, hundred- foot drop dotted by a few precarious scrub cedar and below that hectares of vertical forest.
“Aaah--”
Ian tightened his hold on her waist and whispered, “Shhhh. Yer voice will carry.”
Kate swallowed convulsively and licked her lips. Loose shale slid beneath Thor’s hooves. In a tight whisper she managed, “Surely none would be so foolish as to follow us up here?”
“A few might.”
As if to confirm his words she heard a sharp cry at some distance and then something tumbling down, snapping branches as it went. Her back went rigid. Oh, dear God preserve us.
He pressed his lips against her jaw. “Don’t worry. Their cattle haven’t been bred for our terrain. ”
Don’t worry? She could do naught else and she desperately wanted to close her eyes but could not.
What seemed like a lifetime later they rounded a huge stone outcrop and there before her were dark green bands of forest between patchwork valleys, black lakes, silver rivers and hundreds of pale purple mountains at a much farther distance. “Oh my.”
Out of the corner of her eye she saw him grin. “Aye, and we’re almost there.”
“There?”
“Our hidey-hole.”
Of course. A hidey-hole. On top of a mountain. Well, not a mountain exactly but certainly higher than Stirling had been.
True to his word, at a short stand of cedar, Ian brought Thor to a halt and murmured, “Duck.” A moment later they were through the cedar and entering a cave.
Ian slid out of the saddle and reached for her waist. Her legs wobbled as she tried to stand, and he slipped his arm about her shoulders. “Ye did well for a coigreach .”
She sighed. At least he hadn’t called her a pockpud.
“We’ll stay here until the sun sets.”
Kate, her hands still tied before her, looked about. At the front, the cave was tall, wide and well lit, but farther in, where it grew dark, the floor appeared to rise up to meet the downward-slopping ceiling. In total it looked like a gaping clam. “You’ve got to be out of your mind.”
Ian grinned and threw Thor’s reins over the pummel. “About staying in a cave?”
She stomped her foot, kicking up a cloud of fine dust. “No! About going down this mountain at night.”
He shrugged. “Tis not a mountain but a hillock, and Thor can see well enough at night.”
“But...but I can’t.”
“Nor can I. Well, not as well as I’d like.”
“Augh!” The man was impossible.
He pulled out his short blade and motioned her to him. “Come.”
“Oh, nay.” She backed up, fear making the hair on her arms stand, her throat constrict. Alone, atop this bloody hillock, he could torture her in any manner of ways and none would be any the wiser.
She backed up farther, her gaze raking the shadowy cavern for something to hide behind and found naught large enough. Ian cleared his throat and her attention snapped back to him. He’d followed her, his eyes narrow, his gaze never leaving hers as he stalked, muscles rolling in the confident way of a skilled predator. Caught by a narrow band of sunshine, his eyes began to glimmer like polished brass. Oh no. Her knees hit stone. Caught off balance, she yelped and plopped onto her bottom.
Ian grabbed Kate’s wrists. To his annoyance, she keened and pressed her face against her arms. He dug the tip of the blade into the knotted leather holding her hands. Given the way Kate’s legs were shaking and the uneven cave floor, he thought it wiser to free her hands so she might keep her balance. The last thing he needed was for her to fall and knock herself out. She had yet to tell him all he needed to know. Besides, he had no intention of holding her skirts should she need privacy , which this time she’d find only at the back of the cave.
The leather fell away and she looked up, surprise written all over her lovely countenance.
He cocked an eyebrow. “Did ye expect that I’d slit yer throat?”
Her gaze darted away as she caught her full lower lip betwixt her white even teeth.
“Humph. Ye did.” He slipped his sgian duhb into the sheath strapped beneath his arm. At Thor’s side, he ran a hand down his legs, then patted his mount’s sweating neck. “Good lad.” Thor had foraged and drunk whilst they’d waited in Roxburgh, so he’d be good for the rest of the day.
From his saddle, Ian lifted the ale budget Graham had kindly provided and pulled out the stopper. “So what brings ye to Scotland, Katie?”
As he expected Kate’s gaze locked on the bag. “I told you already.”
“Nay, ye admitted that what ye’d told me earlier was a lie.” He put the bag to his mouth and took a much-needed drink. His thirst appeased, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, “Ah, lovely. I needed that. ”
Seeing that Kate looked about to cry, he held out the bag. “Oh, did ye want some?”
Nodding, she rose, her tongue licking her parched lips.
He grinned. “So, it appears I have something ye want, and ye have something I want.” He plugged the bag. “But ye go first. What are ye doing in Scotland?”
Kate, her gaze still locked on the bag, rubbed at the grooves encircling her wrists. “I told you, I wanted to return the brooch to Lady Margaret.”
“And how did ye happen to come into possession of it? Ye admitted to never having been married to Campbell.” No small blessing that.
“Alright...I was given it. Now may I have a drink?”
Humph. To what end was she given the brooch? Who in their right mind expected a lone woman to accomplish anything? He pulled the stopper and held out the bag. Kate reached for the bag but he pulled it away. “Nay, I’ll hold it.”
He allowed her to bring the bag to her lips and take a wee mouthful, before lifting it out of her reach.
Kate stomped her foot. “You said I could have a drink. You call that a drink?”
He brushed past her, the bag held out of her reach. “Who gave ye the brooch, Kate? The man whose ring ye wear?”
She nibbled on her lower lip and nervously spun the gold band. “It’s my mother’s.”
Ah, that explained the wear. “So were ye ever married at all?”
“No, if you must know.”
“Humph.” For some reason the tightness in his chest eased just a bit. Never married. A virgin, all of whom he steadfastly avoided. Yet this one he had nearly deflowered.
“Here.” He allowed her a longer sip before pulling the bag away, knowing she was still parched but no longer ready to expire.
A virgin. But then...he might make some use of that. “So who sent ye here?” The man was an idiot, whoever he was.
Kate folded her arms across her chest and turned her back to him. Seeing she was determined to be needlessly stubborn, he grumbled, “Ye do not want to answer? Fine. Die of thirst.”
She glared over her shoulder at him, slaying obviously on her mind.
He’d let her stew for awhile. He needed to check the trail to see if any had had the balls or the horseflesh to follow. He tossed the ale bag over his shoulder. “I’ll be back in a minute.” At the entrance, he looked back, scowling. “Stay quiet and dinna touch so much as a hair on that horse. Ye do, and I swear I’ll bind ye hand and foot, stick a gag in yer mouth, and leave ye for the wolves.”
Kate swallowed convulsively, “Wolves?”
“Aye. Did ye not notice those bones in yon corner? ”
“Oh.” Paling as far as her honeyed skin would allow she collapsed onto a boulder.
Humph! That should keep her worrying for a bit while he was gone.
As he eased around the outcrop to peer over the edge to the forest below, he could hear Kate sputtering in outrage above him. So much for his order to remain quiet.
Well, let her rant. She wouldn’t be making a run for it, at any rate. Even if he hadn’t put the fear of God into her, she couldn’t ride out of the cave without warning, and a whistle this close to Thor would bring him to a bone-jarring halt, likely tipping her out of the saddle. Too, there was something amiss about her not seeking shelter at Roxburgh and her not shouting for help when she spied the pockpud patrol.
Seeing naught stirring below, he returned to the cave and found Kate, tears streaming down her cheek, sitting on her boulder, opening a small velvet pouch.
Looping the ale bag on to the saddle he asked, “What have ye there?”
“The gift you left for me in the ladies’ chamber. I was going to save the sweets but, since you refuse—-“
Kate yelped when Ian lunged, knocking the pouch from her hands and sending the bag and its contents flying. He then grabbed her by the arms, brought her face close to his and started sniffing her mouth like a hound on the scent.
Heart thudding, Kate reared back. “What on earth is wrong with you!”
The muscles in his jaws jerked and his fingers dug deep into her arms. “Did ye eat any?”
“No! Not yet.” Mercy, what had she done wrong now?
To her shock he shook her. “Did I not tell to never eat or drink anything left unattended?”
“Aye, but, but...the gift came from you.” The man was absolutely daft! And frightening.
“Nay! I never gave ye a gift.”
“But, but...you did. See...the note.” She pointed as best she could to the bit of paper poking out from beneath the dark blue velvet at her feet.
Ian looked down and to her monumental relief let go of her. She stumbled backward, rubbing her arms as he dropped onto his haunches.
A moment later he raked his hands through his hair and then looked up at her. “I didna give this to ye, Katie.”
“No?”
He shook his head.
Oh, my God. Bile rose in her throat. Unable to breathe, she collapsed onto a stone outcrop. Someone had tried to kill her.
“But who? I don’t—-” She knew. Had no doubt as she whispered, “Alistair Campbell.”
Ian stood. “’Twould be my guess unless ye made another enemy whilst I was out cold.”
Finding naught the least humorous in the situation, feeling tears smarting at the back of her eyes, Kate crossed her arms at her waist and turned her face away.
She heard Ian squat before her. His voice, normally deep and velvet smooth, sounded a bit raw as he murmured, “My apologies, lass, but seeing ye...”
He huffed and left the rest unsaid.
Confused that he should be threatening her with rats and wolves one minute, then panicking, thinking she had ingested poison the next, she sat mute as Ian collected the pouch and its scattered contents, then walked to the cave opening and disappeared.
And he called her an enigma?
Kate looked down at the dirt embedded under her nails and the stains marring her lone gown. Why had naught gone as she and Sir Gregory had planned?
She’d been careful. Had followed Sir Gregory’s every order to the letter, yet here she was hungry and parched, a prisoner at death’s door, and worse, half in love with her aggravating captor.
Groaning, having no answers, Kate buried her face in her hands. “I so want to go home.”
Home to Mister Boots and hot pork pies, to her cramped apartment and feather pillow, to a hard day boiling her father’s white shirts and at the end a welcoming hot bath and her rose soap. Was that so much to ask? She thought not.
At this point she would even welcome her father’s mindless interrogations.
And should she, by some miracle, see her way clear of this...this nightmare her life had become, she would never, ever respond to another vision ever again so long as she lived.
“Are ye thirsty, lass?”
Kate dashed the tears from her cheeks and straightened to find Ian standing before her with ale bag in hand, his handsome features looking like a perfect chiseled mask, his eyes a worrisome flat light brown.
“What have I done wrong now?”
He pulled the stopper and held the bag out to her. “Drink, and ‘tis naught ye have done, but those below.”
From Ian’s expression she could only assume that they’d set the mountain on fire, intent on burning her and Ian out. She grabbed the bag and drank deeply. Her thirst quenched and her courage bolstered, she finally asked, “What has you so concerned?”
“They’ve set up camps below for the night. We cannot leave.”
Kate glanced at the opening, realizing for the first time that it was almost dark. Having had little desire to race down a mountain in the middle of the night anyway, she dared to ask, “And you find this upsetting because...?”
He threw up his arms. “Because I have no bloody idea what’s going on in Stirling—-they could be waging war for all I ken. Because the pock...Sassenach are down there filling their bellies whilst we’re up here starving. Because the night will grow colder still and we canna start a fire for fear the smoke will draw them to us.”
She frowned. His worrying about those meeting in Stirling might hold merit, but...
“Forgive me, Ian, but if you had been living as I have for the last few days, sleeping under pine boughs and eating when you could—-and I assume you have since you caught me so quickly--why angst so over the lack of food and heat now?”
He humphed, shaking his golden mane. “Never ye mind.”
“Fine!” Don’t tell me.
~#~
An hour after gloaming the wind changed direction and the night grew decidedly colder. As hour after hour passed, the air grew colder still. The only saving grace: they could see fairly well by the light of the stars and the waning moon.
Behind him, Thor slept, three knees locked, one leg cocked. Kate, huddled in her thin silk cloak, sat opposite him at the opening of the cave, her chin resting on her knees, her arms wrapped about her legs, her lovely blue eyes now black as she stared at the broad expanse before them. With each breath she took she shivered, causing the moonlight to play across her high cheek bones and shimmer off her waist-length hair. And she hadn’t spoken a word since growling her last “ Fine !”
Feeling his blood heat, his groin swell just looking at her, he shifted his gaze to a safer target: the Sassenach’s fires below.
God knew he hadn’t meant to frighten her so, but when she’d told him that the open pouch on her lap had been a gift from him his heart had nearly stopped. What if he’d been delayed? He would have found her cold as a bloody stone, her mouth full of foam. He shuddered, and not for the first time.
And what was he to do with her? There was no way he could torture her into answering his questions, not with something twisting in his chest every time he looked at her, and he certainly couldn’t let her go. She might know something vital. Mayhap to Scotland’s very security.
Nay. ‘Twas far more likely she was just a pawn in someone else’s game. At this juncture he could only hope that she would break down as they got closer to Stirling and tell him.
Ack! Never in his life had he faced such a dilemma and all because a jet-haired beauty had had the audacity to say “Bullocks.”
He glanced at her again and found shiny droplets shimmering their way down her smooth cheeks.
Why me, Lord?
He strode over to her and she bolted upright, stiff as day-old bread.
Without looking at him, she murmured, “Have you ever noticed that your country at sunset resembles a mourning dove?”
Ian frowned. “I cannot say that I have. ”
“It does. When the sun fades those hills nearest us appear to be that charcoal gray found on a dove’s spots and wings. The middle distance turns to the bluish pewter of a dove’s head and back, and the distant mountains appear to be that pale purple found on a dove’s belly. They do. And now all appears black, yet it’s still green.”
He pictured a mourning dove, pictured the land he knew as well as his brother’s face and concluded Kate desperately needed sleep.
He brushed the hair from the side of her face and whispered, “Lass, ye canna spend the night sitting here staring at naught. We need sleep or neither of us will be worth a bodle by morning. Come.”
She looked up at him, her eyes as glossy as one of the wee locks below. “But the wolves.”
“Humph.” There hadn’t been wolves reported in these parts for decades. “The fires below will keep them away.”
Her brow crinkled. “Are you sure?”
“Aye.”
That seemed to satisfy her for she rose and let him lead her into the back of the cave.
More by feel than sight he found the sandy spot he’d noticed earlier and asked for her cape.
“Why?”
He suspected she was scowling suspiciously and grinned. “Trust me, will ye?”
She grumbled, but the silk came into his hands. He laid it down, pulled his claymore over his head, and unhooked his belt and the clasp holding his breachen feile .
He took her hand and guided her down onto his makeshift pallet, then settled beside her. Realizing his intent, she grumbled and tried to rise.
“Shhh, no need to worry. Two are warmer than one.” He grabbed her by the waist, and hauled her onto her side so that her back was to him, then draped his plaid across her, tucking a good portion of it under her arms and knees. “See, nice and cozy.” Knowing he’d get no sleep lying so close, he murmured, “Good night.”
Lauds. Kate shuddered--as much from Ian’s closeness as from being near frozen--when his heavy arm draped over her waist. After a bit of time her teeth stopped chattering, and she was forced to admit that he’d been right about one thing: two were definitely warmer than one. But it had naught to do with her. Ian threw off heat like London’s royal bread ovens, and truth to tell he definitely smelled better than bread to her. Laud, why had they not met under different circumstances? Where there were no secrets.
Foolish girl. Even under the best of circumstances, he’d not have given you a glance. Better she ruminate on escape since she’d get no sleep this night.
As she discarded a plan for jumping over the ledge and pretending that she’d fallen to her death as being a touch too possible, she became aware of his long, even purrs. My stars, the man was already sound asleep. How was that possible? Not knowing how but grateful for it, Kate yawned and relaxed into his now much-safer warmth. As her back relaxed and a sense of security enveloped her, her thoughts turned to her mother.
Black, dreamless sleep slowly gave way to a golden hue.
Katie, never happier in her six years, skipped in circles. “Mama! Papa’s getting me a puppet!”
Her mother chuckled as she scraped crumbs from the table. “Is he now?”
“ Yes, he just told me. A lady puppet, Mama, with a green and purple skirt and a floppy hat with a bell.”
“ Katie, what have I told you about fibs? I was here when he said good bye and he said naught about buying you a puppet.”
“ But he just did, Mama, just not with words.”
Suddenly her mother was kneeling before her, her beautiful face close to Katie’s. “Child, he’s not here so how exactly did he tell you?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. He just did...when he picked me up.”
Looking very worried Mama whispered, “Katie, does this happen often? This knowing?”
Sensing she was in some kind of trouble, Kate could only nod.
Her mother started crying. “Oh, sweet Lord, you have Nana’s gift. Whatever shall we do now?”
Katie began crying, too.
“ Shh, my love, shh. We just have to make this our little secret.”
“ A secret, Mama?”
“ That you see things that have yet to come to pass.”
Kate’s head began to hurt. “But doesn’t everyone?”
“ Nay, and that’s why you can never, ever tell anyone. Particularly Papa. He must think that you’re normal.”
Frightened, Katie sputtered, “But I am normal.”
“ No, my love, you’re fey.”
“ But I don’t want to be fey, Mama!”
Her mother, tears streaking her face, grasped Katie’s arms, hurting her. “Listen very carefully, child. You will never...ever...tell anyone else for that matter about this, do you understand?”
Suddenly feeling very alone, Katie nodded. “Do you know things, too, Mama?” Oh, please, please say yes.
Still crying, Mama wrapped her arms around her and pulled Katie against her small breast. “Yes, love, but not such as you.”
The pain and fear eased with her words and the world faded away to blissful black. She rolled over and became vaguely aware of something delicious near her. Hmmm. She snuggled deeper into the warmth. Blissful blackness returned .
“ The truth!”
Kate’s skin prickled hearing the man’s nasal voice. It was familiar but she couldn’t place it. The room where she stood reeked of acrid sweat, urine and burning oil. The huge stone blocks making up the room, however, did look familiar.
Where am I?
“ Aaaugh!”
The agonizing cry caused Kate to spin about. She could see a man’s hand wrapped about a pike, then part of a table and on it a pole wrapped in rope. Attached to the end of the pole was a wheel.
In the far corner, behind the legs of a table, she saw a pile of clothing and a pair of well-worn boots. Rope creaked and another scream tore from a man’s throat. She screamed, realizing she was in the Tower, and the man on the rack...
Father!