Surviving Scotland by Kristin Vayden Read Free Book Online Page A

impatiently to find Ioan waiting with his arms open. I wasn’t helpless! Did everyone think I was helpless? Though something in the back of my mind told me it was wrong to jump off a horse without assistance, I silenced the voice and straightened my shoulders.
    “I donna need yer help.” I glanced back to my uncle, and with a defiant glare held firmly to the saddle and jumped off the horse, landing with more grace than I had anticipated.
    Both men stared at me with grudging respect, and I dusted my loose skirt and spun on my boot toward the keep. As I left I heard Ioan chuckle and my uncle growl.
    “She may have lost her memory, but she’s still our Elle.” Ioan’s voice was deep and full of appreciation. I grinned in response as I reached the heavy wooden door. But before I entered, I heard my uncle’s voice. Its quiet timbre was almost lost in the groan of the door as it opened.
    “She’s no’ yer Elle, Ioan. Donna ye ferget that.”
    My head spun with questions, but rather than demand answers to a statement I certainly wasn’t intended to hear, I chose to simply wait. On the way up the stairs a proverb flitted through my mind.
    We learn far more from silence th a n from speaking.
    Certainly that was the truth here at Carnasserie Castle. I needed to listen far more than speak. The opposite of what I’d been doing. After all, if my uncle wanted me to stay at the castle, I knew I had to obey. My face twisted into a clever grin as I thought of how I could do some exploring, not outside, but of the secrets within.
    ****
    Though I hated to admit it, the excursion with Ioan had tired me, and I went to bed early that night. The morning called at dawn, and I awoke with a renewed sense of purpose. My uncle’s cryptic remark had perked my curiousity. Certainly there was more to the story, and I intended to find it out.
    Silently, I dressed in a light shift with my stays. The straw-stuffed stays were itchy but not unbearably so. A plaid was draped over my chair and I reached for it, tucking it into my waist, around and up, covering me and offering additional warmth. The Arisaid, as Morag had called it, was comfortable and served me well. Yet, as I looked down at my dress, I couldn’t help the feeling of it being wrong. I checked my dress and plaid again, but nothing was amiss. With a shrug of my shoulders, I went to the basin and splashed my face with cold water.
    The keep was surprisingly silent, and I wondered just how early I had awoken. A window offered the barest break of dawn’s light, and I waited for my eyes to adjust. Once I went down the stairs, I walked by a few windows and saw movement in the faint light. I stopped, and then walked closer to the window in efforts of seeing clearer.
    The figure was walking along the perimeter of the wall, and I assumed it was a guard. The Arisaid began to sag below my shoulders, and I shrugged it back into place and continued walking. Another movement stopped my progress, and I turned, watching a dark figure wait in a corner for the guard to round the bend of the wall. Intrigued, I waited by the window, hiding my body behind the stone wall and barely peeking my face around the edge. The dark figure waited ‘til the guard was out of sight, then carefully ran to the gate. The man glanced back at the keep and I ducked my head back, but not before I caught a glimpse of his face in the torchlight. It was Ioan! What was he doing sneaking around the castle? Curiosity and anger boiled within me. Was he a traitor?
    Though my annoyance with him was strong, I highly doubted him to be a betrayer of my family but, to be sure, I made the choice to follow him. Quickly I ran to the door and remembered how it groaned; I opened it slowly, hoping it would silence the hinges. I began to rush into the beginning light, but stopped. Were there more guards? A quick scan proved the courtyard clear and I raced to the gate, pausing just before the opening. I peeked around the edge and saw Ioan jogging