The Highlander's Forbidden Bride(11)

“Take whatever you need, but be aware that a severe winter storm approaches, and you will need shelter.”

“I would hope to find Carissa before then, but if not…there is that cottage the mercenary brought me to when first you tended me.”

Bethane nodded with a smile. “And it remains stocked with provisions, but what if Carissa isn’t traveling in that direction.”

“She would not return from where she came, there is no help for her there; therefore, she would seek a new route to take, and that path would more than likely cross with that cottage.”

“You are welcome to make use of it.”

Ronan shook his head. “Why do you help both of us?”

She laughed softly. “At my age you see the wisdom of it.”

“Then either you see deeper than most, or your eyesight isn’t what it once was.”

Bethane laughed and patted his hand. “I’m sure you will let me know which it is.”

“You do realize that once I capture Carissa, I won’t be bringing her back here.”

“I assumed as much,” she said with a gentle nod. “You will take her straight to your home?”

“Yes, and it is there she will meet her fate.”

“I daresay you will meet yours as well.”

“In a way, I suppose I will, for my journey will finally be done.”

“No, my son,” Bethane said. “It will just be starting.”





Chapter 6




Carissa made it to the cottage by nightfall. She was grateful for the continued snowfall, her tracks concealed as soon as she made them. She had gone out of her way to misdirect anyone following her, purposely breaking tips of tree branches and leaving snags of her wool cloak stuck to bushes. If she were lucky, no one would find her, and she could at least wait out the impending storm in peace and solitude.

The cottage was as Bethane had promised, stocked with a multitude of provisions, including firewood stacked high right outside the front door. She found the root cellar that Bethane had advised would see her through the winter if necessary, and the older woman had been right. There were several covered crocks and barrels containing food staples, including dried apples and plums and oats and barley, not to mention dried meats. Cider and ale were also in abundance, as were candles.

She gathered what she would presently need and climbed the ladder, securing the latch, then spreading the rushes back over the top. It took a couple of hours to get settled, bringing in enough wood not only to start a fire in the hearth but to keep it going throughout the night. She also shed her extra clothing once the fire’s heat warmed the one room, placing the few garments she had in the chest beside the bed.

The quarters were sufficient, though certainly not for more than two people, and even then the single bed would be a tight squeeze. The fireplace divided the space, the bed braced against one wall, a small table and two chairs against the other, with a rocking chair in the middle facing the hearth. Six candlesticks lined the mantel, and Carissa stuck a candle in each one, though she lit only one to place on the table. The roaring fire cast sufficient light in the room, so there was no sense wasting the candles.

She yawned and rubbed the back of her neck. She was tired, not having slept the night before. That, combined with her long walk, at times over hilly terrain, had taken its toll. She also was hungry. She had not wanted to waste time to stop to eat, so instead she had sparingly munched on some of the bread and cheese Bethane had provided.

Now, her choice was food or sleep. She needed both, and not having the strength or desire to fix a hot meal, she chose once again to munch on bread and cheese after slipping into her warm wool nightshift.

She nestled in the rocking chair, tucking her bare feet beneath her. She had moved the chair close enough to be wrapped in the fire’s warmth, and for the first time in a very long time, she felt safe.

No one knew she was here, and with a winter storm approaching, there was a good chance that she could spend a month or more, if she was lucky. She prayed for such a reprieve, if only for a short time. She had grown weary of running and hiding. She’d been doing it much too long and desperately wanted it to end.

Naturally, she wished that Carissa could just disappear, but she was finding that it wouldn’t be as easy as she had hoped. Her father’s evil legacy followed her everywhere.

Her eyes began to close, and she rested her head against the back of the rocker, the gentle sway and comforting heat lulling her into a light slumber. She didn’t fight it as she usually did, since there was no worry of anyone disturbing her sleep tonight, though still she should take precautions.

She forced her eyes open and forced herself out of the rocking chair. She unearthed her dagger from her folded clothes and placed it beneath the pillow. A smaller knife she tucked under and near the edge of the straw mattress.