PARTING AND ARRIVING
Alina stood on the steps. She swallowed, wishing she did not feel as if she was about to cry. She looked at Amabel, who stood before her.
“I wish you were staying,” Amabel said softly.
“I will not say goodbye,” Alina insisted. “I cannot leave you.”
Amabel sighed. “Yes, dear, I am with child,” she said, covering her abdomen protectively with long, slender fingers. They had talked of the child the night before, when they were together. Alina had said only that the child would be a girl. She looked at Amabel with concern as she continued, “but the birth is months off. You will have time to return and care for me then.”
Alina smiled, though the smile was tinged with worry. “I suppose that is true,” she said carefully. “But I will return sooner than that.”
Amabel laughed. “I would like that, my dear! I would I could have you here always. Mayhap that will be brought about.”
Alina bit her lip. She had told her sister something of the trials Duncan faced, feeling it was wrong to keep the knowledge to herself. However, she did not want to think of it overmuch, for fear discussing it would cause some dire bad luck. She smiled sadly. You were never superstitious, she chided herself. Still. It did not do to take risks unnecessarily.
“Yes, mayhap,” she said nonchalantly. She smiled at her sister. “In any case, do not think you see the back of me for long.”
Amabel chuckled. “My dear, I long for your return.”
Alina smiled. She reached for her hand and found herself enmeshed in a firm embrace. She squeezed her sister fiercely, breathing in the smell of rosewater and honeysuckle that clung always to her. She felt an almost physical sensation of pain at parting from her after so short a time together.
“I'll see you soon,” she said, but her voice was a hoarse croak. She blinked her eyes fiercely, batting away tears. She had not wept so when they parted first six months previously. I do not know if I will see her again. The threat of the dream hung over her, made all the more real by the discovery that part of it was true. Joanna would be born. She will be. I will do anything I can to make that happen.
“See you soon, Sister,” Amabel said. She took her hand and squeezed it. Alina squeezed back. She turned away then, letting the tears fall.
“Goodbye, Amabel,” Chrissie said sadly. She stepped up behind Alina and Alina heard Amabel give a little grunt as she wrapped her arms around the girl, holding her tightly.
Alina looked away across the forest, letting the two have their private moment together. She did not listen to their low voiced talk, but looked out across the forest to where the pine trees cleared the mist, her mind already on the long journey home.
I should have brought more sewing, she thought, recalling the scrap of linen she had worked on the previous day. It was filling up fast, and she would need more work if she wanted to distract herself on the journey back.
As she considered asking her sister for more supplies, she saw a movement on the edge of the woods. The men were hunting, and she had said her farewell to Broderick earlier that day. Their lodgers had already been in the courtyard, waiting for horses to be readied, and she had been spared their farewell. She stared at the speck on the edge of the woodland, knowing with a sinking feeling who the rider was.
It was Camry. She stared harder, feeling cold with something like fear as the features resolved to those of the young man who was so rude.
She shivered. The woods ended perhaps some forty feet away, so he was not hard to identify, his long blue cloak appearing from the mists, in contrast with the world of gray and brown and green around him. His face was too small this distance away for her to see an expression, but she guessed it was twisted in a mocking leer. As it had been the previous evening. She shivered again, wishing she had a cloak too, for warmth.
She felt transfixed by his watching gaze, as mesmerized as hunted prey, watching a huntsman approach. Tense, waiting, and unable to move. As she watched, he raised a hand in a mocking gesture of parting.
Alina swallowed bile. She turned to Amabel and Chrissie where they stood on the steps, the older woman's arm around the younger, chatting in easy conversation.
“We should go now,” she said urgently.
Amabel raised her brow in a gentle questioning look. Chrissie looked dismayed.
“Already?” She clung to Amabel's hand, suddenly like a child again, seeking safety.
Amabel looked oddly at her sister. “What is it, dear? You look as if you saw something awful.”
Alina shook her head, blinking to clear it. “I am sorry. I was foolish. I just had a sense of...I don't know.” She shrugged, feeling silly. “I can't describe it. Sorry I disturbed you.”
Amabel and Chrissie looked worried.
“Sister, I trust your unease,” Amabel said firmly. “If you think you ought not to travel today, why, there is so much space here at the fortress! You could easily stay a night or two longer...I would not have you face needless risks.”
Alina tensed. The mere thought of staying there for another night, with that hawk-eyed stranger mocking her from the shadows of the hall, making her wake, sweating and afraid, at noises in the hallway, lest it be him, was awful. She had not realized until that moment how much tension she bore from that alone. The man disconcerted her as no one else ever had.
“No, Sister,” she demurred hastily. “It would be well to be away. My feeling was...not a premonition,” she said honestly. Not quite, anyway. “It was just general unease.”
“You worry for me, Sister,” Amabel said gently. “I think it makes you more worried than you ought to be.”
“Mayhap,” Alina agreed carefully. She knew why she was worried and this facet of it had nothing at all to do with her worry for Amabel. Or Chrissie. It was all for herself.
“Did I show you what Bronn gave me?” Chrissie said, smiling. She held out a skein of silk ribbon, white and pretty.
“That is beautiful,” Alina said admiringly. The young lord had taken to Chrissie, though seemed to see her as a younger sister or a daughter. His care for her moved Alina, and made her think better of him than perhaps she otherwise would. The young man is a credit to his family, she thought warmly. She recalled the discussion about the Duncraigh's the day before, recalling the tale of the alliance and the possibility of Uncle's involvement.
I shall ask Aili about it when I return, she decided firmly. She looked at Chrissie, who was holding Amabel's hand firmly. She loved Alina as a mother, but she idolized Amabel.
“Shall we go?” she asked gently.
The younger woman stuck out her lip, pouting. “If you say so,” she said tiredly. Alina smiled.
“We will not be away long. Perhaps you can return sooner even than I do. With Uncle's consent and perhaps Blaine to escort you, I am sure you could stay longer.” she tucked the idea away in the back of her mind, knowing that Chrissie should meet a wider range of people. Amabel certainly entertained more than Uncle did.
Chrissie had been looking enraptured, but at the mention of Blaine she frowned. “Maybe Heath can come with me,” she said instead. Alina sighed. In her heart, she wished something would happen to raise the deeply loving man-at-arms to the status matching her own. Still, she knew how unlikely it was. Heath was by far more suitable, and perhaps it was better Chrissie preferred him.
“If you like,” she agreed, shrugging. She glanced towards the woods, biting her lip anxiously. The rider had gone.
Good, she thought, relieved.
Chrissie saw her face and dutifully squeezed Amabel in a bear hug. “Goodbye, Amabel. See you soon!”
Amabel kissed the girl's soft hair. “Goodbye, Chrissie. I pray you return immediately!”
She giggled. “I, too!” She seemed to brighten instantly and Alina smiled to herself. If Uncle Brien refused her request, she would not let him do so without severe contention.
She stepped up to face her sister. “Farewell, Sister,” she said. The words stuck and came out as a whisper, barely heard. Amabel nodded.
“Farewell.”
They embraced fiercely and when they stepped apart, both of them had faces damp with tears.
Alina walked carefully behind Chrissie down the steps to the awaiting carriage. She climbed in and sank back into the leather seat, weary with emotion. Only then did she turn and look back to where Amabel stood before the gate, pale hand raised in farewell.
She raised her own hand, waving to her. Then, as the carriage drew sharply away, she let it fall. The tears flowed and she bit her lip, not wanting to make a noise and alarm Chrissie.
At least, she thought, as the coach rumbled slowly across the track that led first through part of the forest and then around, onto the heath land, I will see Duncan again.
She and Chrissie had been gone almost a week. There was, she hoped, the slightest possibility that he might already have returned. That he would be there waiting when the carriage rolled in.
She closed her eyes, trying to sense the feel of him. When she did so, all she saw was sunshine. On the gray, rain threatened day, it fired her heart with hope. He was, it seemed, alive, if far from her. Perhaps the sunshine was not so much physical as it was a sign of hope, of happiness. Somewhere, Duncan was alive. And happy. That thought would sustain her all the way home to Lochlann Castle.