Journey to Bongary Spring by Kasey Stockton

Chapter Four

The inky black sky was void of a moon and littered with thousands of glittering stars. Isobel clutched the cloth sack of provisions she’d taken from the kitchen and tugged the rope handle higher on her arm, leaning her back against the cold stone of the castle wall and waiting for her breathing to slow. If anyone was going to catch her as she slipped away, it would be Marion—her friend had seemed suspicious following dinner—which was why Isobel had waited long into the night to be certain Marion had fallen asleep before slipping outside.

The entire castle was sleeping, its inhabitants long since retired for the evening, and the only signs of life were the slow steps of whoever paced on the turret above, watching for danger. Isobel wasn’t dangerous, but she had to get away unseen. She needed a horse, or she would never make it back in time for the feast. She’d planned the perfect route up through Glen Ellen and around the edges of the Duncan land, studying the map in McEwan’s room after he’d slipped out briefly during dinner, his trusty guard dog Hugh on his tail. It would take nearly three times as long to reach the waters that way, but it was much safer than trespassing.

Isobel’s pulse thudded loudly in her ears, and she felt for the handle of her dirk secured at her waist. She wouldn’t need to use the knife now, but it was a comfort to know it was easily accessible. Lifting the hem of her wide, woolen skirt, Isobel rose on leather-clad tiptoe and crossed through the tall grass toward the stables. She clenched her teeth and hoped Kieran had done a thorough job clearing any remaining manure as she picked her way along the path. She opened the door and slipped inside before standing against the wall, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the darkness within.

The chief’s horses took residence on one end of the stables, so Isobel turned the other direction. Surely she could choose a steed who would not be missed while she was away. She found the stall of a dark, short mare and reached for the latch when a voice came from behind her, causing her to jump and hit her hand against the door.

“Take my horse.”

Isobel spun, the darkness easily shrouding the person standing opposite her. But Marion’s voice was as familiar as her own, and Isobel would know it anywhere. “I canna take Teine,” she whispered.

Marion stepped forward, her arisaid wrapped around her shoulders like a blanket and her dark, braided hair falling over her shoulder. “Teine is the fastest horse here aside from my father’s, and ye well ken it. I dinna ken where ye’re going, but if ye want a chance to escape before they come after ye, she’s the best chance ye have.”

A lump formed in Isobel’s throat. “I plan to return before the feast.”

Marion shook her head. “It’s best if ye dinna tell me any details.”

Isobel understood. The chief couldn’t force Marion to say that which she did not know.

Marion lowered her voice, stepping forward to clutch Isobel’s arm. “But I must say I am glad ye intend to return.”

Releasing her, Marion crossed to the side of the stables and busied herself with fitting her own saddle to the horse’s back. Each second that ticked by built the anxiety in Isobel’s gut, and by the time they were standing at the door, horse’s reins in hand, she was heavily considering the idiocy of her plan. But what choice did she have? She was weeks away from wooing a man she did not wish to marry, all while her heart foolishly beat for another.

Bongary Spring and its proven healing properties were her only choice if she wished to have any measure of comfort in the life her chief had chosen for her.

She pulled Marion in for an embrace. “Thank ye.”

“’Tis naething,” Marion whispered into her hair. She stepped back and tugged her arisaid tighter around her shoulders. “I’ll leave first and signal when it is safe.”

Isobel nodded, but she was sure the motion had gone unseen. Marion slipped outside, and silence moved in and took her place. Even Teine refrained from stomping her chestnut hooves or huffing an impatient breath. The horse stood motionless as though she could sense the importance of remaining unheard.

The minutes passed with aching slowness until Marion reappeared in the doorway, her body a faint silhouette against the darkness behind her. “Ye can go now. James is on the other end of the turret and walking slower than Hugh after too much whisky.”

Isobel cracked a smile. “Goodbye, Mari.”

“Safe journey,” she said.

Wrapping Teine’s reins over her hand, Isobel gently pulled the mare through the large stable doors and out into the bitter cold. She took quick, light steps around the chicken coop and past the animals sleeping in their hay cocoons. Teine was a saint kindly inhabiting a horse’s body, for she didn’t make a sound that would wake the other animals, merely walking dutifully behind Isobel as she crept past the castle grounds and toward the lane that led to the glen.

When she reached the edge of the building coverage, Isobel glanced over her shoulder at the dark outline of the castle but detected no movement. Drawing in a deep breath, she took a step forward when a deep voice grabbed her attention from somewhere behind her.

“Who goes there?” the man called.

Kieran.

Panic engulfed her body, and Isobel had no time to react. She pulled Teine toward a jagged rock and climbed up, swinging her leg over the saddle and tugging the reins over the mare’s head.

“Stop!” Kieran called.

Isobel kicked Teine’s sides. “Run,” she commanded. Teine’s reacting nicker was loud against the quiet night, and she bounded forward.

But Kieran was fast. He reached them before they got far and took hold of the thin leather reins, pulling Teine harshly to the side. Isobel looked down, and her heart stopped when she met his handsome, dark eyes looking back at her. Her body reacted warmly despite the frigid air, and resolve hardened in her chest.

Kieran’s gaze widened immediately. Had he expected a horse thief or some such person?

Isobel did not intend to stay and find out. She tore the reins from his hands and kicked Teine hard, urging the horse to flee. She glanced over her shoulder to see Kieran remain behind, stunned. Isobel turned away from him and leaned forward, feeling the wind whip over her face and tug at her plaid as she recklessly fled the castle grounds for the shadowed glen.

When she was a great enough distance away without hearing any following hoofbeats, she slowed her horse to a canter but didn’t stop. Panting along with Teine, she continued down the rough lane she had walked with Marion just that morning. Isobel kept her ears cocked, listening for any sounds of Kieran following on horseback. An hour passed in this manner, Isobel’s heart thudding so loudly in her ears she was unable to discern whether or not hooves pounded behind her, but she pressed on. She had but three hours until the sun would begin to rise.

Kieran would undoubtedly inform the chief of what he saw, and they would be on her tail shortly. Unless Alexander McEwan chose to cut her off from the family forever, he would want her returned as soon as possible. Certainly she was safe from being discarded, however. She could still be used to gain favor with the Duncans.

Uncertainty slid into Isobel’s gut. She’d left Castle Moraigh with narrow intentions—to rid herself of her troublesome longing for Kieran—but what if she’d made a grave mistake?

No, she couldn’t allow herself to waver. Slowing Teine to a safe trot, Isobel strengthened her resolve and pressed forward. By now, the chief would know of her desertion and men would no doubt be sent to retrieve her. At this point, what choice did she have but to pursue her current course of action? She would not return to Moraigh until she could do so free from the burden of love. She only needed to reach the spring before the McEwan men reached her.

* * *

Alexander McEwan stood at the darkened window of his dim study in nothing but trews and a long, untucked shirt, his hands clenched tightly into fists. He’d been relying on young Isobel to make a match with the blasted laird of Dulnain, and now he was receiving reports that she’d fled in the night. No one but a few select kinsmen were aware of the importance of this union. It had to be done; a strong alliance had to be forged, and he could not sacrifice Marion for it as he was saving her for something greater. Isobel was his only option.

Scrubbing a hand over his bearded chin, McEwan turned back to face Kieran. Legs slightly parted and arms crossed over his chest, Kieran appeared as steady and fierce as his father once had. Such a shame the man had been so needlessly lost to them, but his son had proven himself a worthy replacement over the years, even if Kieran’s mind was bent stubbornly toward avenging his father’s death. McEwan couldn’t fault Kieran for that, exactly, but the lad would need to let go of his prejudice against the Duncans soon, or he would be getting in the way of McEwan’s plans.

And nothing, McEwan vowed, would stop him from achieving his goals.

“So Isobel has run off,” he said, clenching his fists again and releasing them behind his back.

Marion stood beside Kieran, poised. She tried to hide her feelings behind an elegant, plain expression, but McEwan knew his daughter well. Beneath her calm, chilled mien, Marion was seething.

McEwan shifted his gaze to his best warrior. “Ye’ll go after her.”

Kieran’s face revealed no surprise. He must have expected this to be the course they would pursue. With one distinct nod, the task was accepted.

“Where did she go?” McEwan asked.

Kieran’s gaze didn’t waver. “I dinna ken, but she rode toward Glen Ellen. If I leave now, I can reach her before noon.”

“Marion,” McEwan said, the word a command. Her lips tightened, and her eyes narrowed the faintest bit. “Where did she go?”

“She didna tell me.”

He held her defiant gaze, but something told him his daughter was telling the truth.

The room grew heavy in the silence, and McEwan wanted nothing more than to return to sleep. He needed this business dealt with, and he needed Isobel returned to him. “Take some men, Kieran.”

“I can ride faster alone.”

“If yer path cuts into Duncan territory, ye best not be alone.”

“Aye, but…” Kieran’s gaze flicked to Marion and away. “Do ye think she would travel there?”

“She plans to return,” Marion said, her words clipped.

Ah, so she did know more than she let on. “When?”

Marion shook her head. “She said no more than that. She must have something important to see to, for she plans to return before the feast. Isobel keeps her promises.”

A groove lined Kieran’s brow, but his lips were pressed flat.

McEwan smoothed his long hair back. It hung limp past his shoulders, free from its typical queue. “Do ye have men in mind?”

“Young Rupert,” Kieran said immediately. “He could use the experience.”

“Aye. Ye best take Ian and Hugh, too.” He’d need the seasoned warriors if they came upon any trouble, and given Kieran’s understanding expression, he knew as much.

“We’ll prepare and leave right away.”

“Kieran? Dinna cause trouble with the Duncans.”

Kieran’s lips flattened even further, and he gave a tight nod.

“Ye’ve little time to lose,” McEwan added. “Ye must return by the feast. ’Tis important.”

Kieran seemed to register the weight of this command. He bowed to McEwan before turning and bowing lightly to Marion. She tilted her head impatiently, and when the door closed, leaving them alone, she stepped forward.

“Isobel is intelligent, loyal, and honest, Father. She would not leave at so important a time if she had not a good reason ta do so.”

If all was above board, though, the lass wouldn’t have felt the need to flee. “Be that as it may, her quiet escape in the dead of night gives me reason for concern.”

Marion’s frustrated expression mounted. Had she not considered that point? When Marion looked so focused and intent, she reminded McEwan much of his wife when she had been younger. He could only imagine his wife’s input on this particular issue—which was why he planned to refrain from telling her until he absolutely must.

“Can we not give her time ta return on her own?” Marion pleaded.

“Nay. I’ll no’ take any risks. She agreed to marry Miles Duncan, and that is what she’ll do.”

Marion turned and fled the room in quick, short steps. She muttered on her way out the door, and if McEwan heard his daughter correctly, she had replied, “If ye can find her.”

But that only worried him slightly. Kieran was a master tracker and a great leader. If anyone could bring Isobel back to Castle Moraigh, it was him.

* * *

Kieran woke Young Rupert, Ian, and Hugh, and told them to dress for a journey and meet him at the stables. They came wearily, though without complaint, and he reminded them to fetch their bedrolls and fill their canteens. He didn’t know if the task would take hours or days to complete, but he was prepared for either.

He didn’t understand why it was imperative to bring Isobel home before the feast, but he’d learned not to question his leaders. If he was being sent after a woman with such haste, it was important. That was the only distinction that mattered.

Though in Kieran’s eye, if the woman wasn’t keen on being at Castle Moraigh, cared for and pampered by the McEwan chief and living off his charity, she didn’t need to reap those benefits.

“Kieran,” his cousin hissed from the stairwell.

He lifted the linen he’d been filling with provisions and tied the corners together. “I’m not bringing ye if that’s what ye’ve come for.”

Marion stepped forward, a frown above her delicate nose. “Nay, that’s not…I need ye ta promise me ye’ll be careful.”

“I’m always careful.”

She stepped forward, looking as though she wanted to say more.

Kieran grew impatient, eager to be on his way. “I dinna have time to waste.”

“Nay, of course not,” she snapped. “I ken that well, Cousin.”

Kieran paused in the doorway. The house was eerily silent, and he was eager to be on his way. Isobel had left over an hour ago, and the longer they waited, the more difficult it would be to track her.

“What are ye not telling me?” he asked, suspicion growing in his gut.

“Naething.”

She spoke too fast. There was something Marion knew that she wasn’t telling.

He drew in a breath of patience. “Ye ken where she’s gone.”

“Isobel told me naething,” she said.

“That doesna mean ye dinna ken.” Furthermore, Kieran was certain Marion wished to share some piece of information with him, or she wouldn’t have snuck down to the kitchens to seek him out before he left. She must be battling an argument of conscience within herself, for she’d never hesitated to share things with him in the past.

He tried a different approach. “Is Isobel aware of the danger she’s put herself in?”

Marion swallowed, her eyes dimming. Firelight from his lantern danced against her smooth, pale skin.

“I didna think so.” Kieran turned to walk away, only pausing when Marion’s voice reached him. She sounded pained, and he knew it was costing her to reveal her friend’s secret. He swallowed a wince. It was a pain Kieran knew all too well.

“Isobel spoke of Bongary Spring this morning,” she said quietly. “Yesterday morning, I suppose.”

The weight of those words settled on his mind. “The healing well?”

“Aye. I didna let her tell me where she went, but she promised she intended to return before the feast. If she’s gone to Bongary, ye could go south and reach it afore her.”

“If we cross through Duncan lands.”

“Ye’re harmless.”

“But that doesna mean we’ll nae be harmed.” Kieran shook his head. Bongary Spring was at least three days’ ride if one was forced to skirt the entirety of the Duncan lands. “I canna put my men in danger. I’ll follow her through Glen Ellen.”

“But ye’ll allow her ta reach Bongary, aye?”

Understanding settled over his shoulders; the fearful, hopeful look shimmering in Marion’s eyes was easily discernible despite the darkness in the empty, cold kitchen. She wanted Kieran to know Isobel’s direction so the lass could complete her journey. If he’d gone through Duncan lands as she’d hoped, they would have met at the spring, and that would have allowed Isobel to use the well. But he was no errand boy, and he was certainly not sent by the chief to grant Isobel any such luxury.

“I have a task ta see to,” he said.

“Can ye show her no mercy? She deserves it from ye, of all people.”

His body stilled. “What do ye mean by that?”

“Ye are no fool, Kieran.”

He had no time for her games. “Goodbye, Marion.”

She grunted angrily and turned, fleeing the kitchen in quick, steady steps. She was much too refined to storm away, but Kieran thought her elegant exit was powerful. The woman would make a fierce chief’s wife one day.

“Women,” he muttered, letting himself outside and ascending the deep stone steps until he reached the ground. Hugh stood nearby, holding the reins of both his horse and Kieran’s, and Young Rupert sat atop his steed behind them, covering a deep yawn with his wide palm. “Where’s Ian?”

“Coming,” Hugh said. He gestured over his shoulder, and Kieran caught sight of Ian walking their way, leading his horse and yawning.

“Ye’ve got weapons?”

Each of his men nodded, indicating swords and guns strapped to their waists in preparation. He hoped they wouldn’t have to use them.

“Where are we headed?” Ian asked.

“To track Isobel,” Kieran supplied, shoving the provisions he’d gathered into his saddle bag. “She left an hour ago, and we need ta bring her back.”

He climbed into the saddle and pulled his horse around to face the entrance valley that bled up into Glen Ellen, shrouded in darkness. His men fell in behind him.

“Any idea why she’s gone?” Young Rupert asked, clearly baffled.

“Aye, or where?” Ian added.

Kieran thought about Isobel’s expression when he’d caught her horse outside, the panic and fear when she’d seemed to recognize him. He’d been shocked himself. He hadn’t expected a quiet young woman to be stealing Marion’s horse in the middle of the night, and that surprise was likely the only reason she’d managed to break free of his grip. It was a good thing he’d felt inclined to check on a pregnant mare, or he never would have seen Isobel.

“D’ye ken anything?” Ian asked. The voice that was usually laced with humor was now noticeably irritated. Hopefully that would wear off as the man awoke more fully.

“Anything like where we’re headed? Aye. We’re traveling to Bongary Spring.”