Forget Me Not, My Scottish Love by Allie Palomino
Chapter Twenty-Eight
One day later, at gloaming
“Oh, Alice, I cannot. I am too uneasy still. Knitting will not calm my nerves this moment, but thank you all the same. I’m weary, and I believe ‘tis time that I lie down for the night.”
Alice watched as Abby ascended the stairs with Trystan. She’d suggested everything she could think of to help Abby keep her mind off of the battle. It was no use and she should know.
It wasn’t long ago that she was in Abby’s predicament.
Up in their chambers, Abby set Trystan down for the night.
Conversations she’d had with Cameron kept resurfacing. He had insisted on leaving numerous men behind. She wanted him to take more.
“Two hundred of my men could easily battle four hundred of yer father’s,” he’d said. “Yer father doesna have those numbers, anyhow.”
She harrumphed.
What he lacked in numbers he made up for with deceit.
Coming out of her memory, she looked around.
“I forgot the pitcher,” she mumbled.
Nursing Trystan required her to drink vast amounts of water. She didn’t want to bother Margery with such a small task. Looking down at Trystan to make certain he quietly slept, Abby descended the stairs. She never left him unsupervised for more than a small span of time, so her steps were hurried.
She saw Amy attempting to pick up some of Owen’s toys.
“Let me help you, Amy. You shouldn’t be bending like that.”
Amy scoffed. “Well, excuse me there, Abby. I seem to remember that recently, a woman growing large with child complained that she was not incapable of doing chores for herself simply because of the babe she carried.”
Abby laughed. “Aye, caught me there, Amy.” She bent down and quickly picked up the toys. “Now, see how fast that was?”
Amy snorted. “I’ll remember this when ye carry again. I’ll remind ye of this day.”
Abby smiled at Amy and quickly retrieved the pitcher, filling it with water. She was on her way to cross the great room again, but Owen saw her and made a fuss for her to carry him.
“Alice has Trystan?”
Abby shook her head. “He’s in our chamber. I forgot to bring my pitcher.”
Amy nodded. “Well, Owen, Auntie Abby has to go to yer cousin.” She reached for Owen, who protested a bit until she dangled a toy in front of him.
Abby climbed the steps and walked towards her room. She yawned, and couldn’t wait to get into bed. Once inside, she tiptoed around, careful not to make noise. She set the pitcher down after having a long drink. Abby walked over to Trystan.
“Trystan!”
There was a parchment rolled and secured with a leafy plant stem that had small lavender flowers on it. She looked around her room awkwardly, as if there were eyes on her.
“Alice?” she called out.
Had Alice taken him?
No. She wouldn’t have without letting her know.
She didn’t know why or how, but a feeling of dread began in the pit of her stomach. She took the parchment and broke the stem.
Her heart started to beat heavily, and then skipped a beat.
Two words: FOLLOW ALONE.
The air was too thin to breathe at that moment. She turned in the room just seeing it empty of her son and husband, and began to hyperventilate. Abby rushed to the pitcher and drank more water. She tried to calm her breathing but it was hard to catch her breath.
Abby didn’t have to wonder who’d taken her son. The stem told her what she needed to know. Cameron had shown her the herbs Gillyanne used to serve her various purposes. The one she’d tied around the parchment was the one she used to cause Abby’s miscarriage and prevent conception.
Abby understood Gillyanne’s warning in using that herb. She would hurt Trystan if she didn’t go alone.
Abby’s heart thumped. She wanted to panic, but she didn’t have the luxury.
She began grabbing things she’d need for her and Trystan. She took garments, fruit she had in her room, and a waterskin. She walked to the trunk and grabbed a dirk Cameron told her about in case she needed the use of one.
Now would certainly call for the use of it.
She decided to leave the family, specifically Patrick, who was commander while Cameron was gone, a note in the room. They would search for her first and it would give her enough of a start so that Gillyanne would believe she was alone.
Abby snuck out the back was and headed for the stables. Along her path, she saw the herb on the ground.
So that’s how the whore expected her to know where to go.
Abby led a horse out, braced herself and her fears, and mounted. She was thankful she slipped by the guards without notice, and that her horse was a quiet and docile one. The moonlight was strong, which helped Abby see the lavender stems resting on the green grass.
Abby coached the horse to move faster, the fear of what would happen to her son overpowering her fear of fast-moving horses. She let the herb of death guide their path.