Authors: Felicia Rogers
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As Alan watched Lyall ride out the keep's open gate, he had a hard time believing it was over. She was gone. Lyall had left. Now his wife and child could return to their home, and they could be a family without fear.
He decided to head to the chapel to thank God for his good fortune. Rab Burns had never been one for worshipping the Lord, but he had given Alan to a young maid in the village to raise. She had taught him to be thankful for his blessings and to serve the Lord in all he did.
As he walked to the chapel, there was an extra spring in his step. Lyall was gone, and his wife and son would be returning to the keep with an extra addition. His wife had told him a story about a midwife who brought an abandoned child in the middle of the night, then disappeared. His wife claimed her and named her Wysteria, after a wisteria flower that floated down through the air and landed on the babe as she waited alone outside on the doorstep. Alan knew his wife would never turn away a homeless infant, so he was willing to accept the little girl as his own.
As far as the keep knew, the girl could have been born while his wife was in hiding. All in the keep knew he feared for his wife's life and had secretly visited her instead of exposing her to Lyall in person, so this wouldn't stretch the imagination too much to believe in her absence another child was conceived and born.
With his head bowed, Alan entered the chapel. One foot in front of the other, he walked forward, his eyes toward the floor in humility. As the front of the room where the cross hung was approached, his eyes rose to the symbol. A scream left his lips, vibrating the walls. The level and intensity was so great it could be felt throughout the land.
On the wooden crucifix, which hung on the wall above the altar, was Darla. Her head hung downward in death. The lass had been stretched out and nailed in place.
Alan wept, one word escaping his lips in a scream. “Lyall!”
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The men and Lyall hadn't traveled far when they came to a rolling stream. Lyall asked to dismount and have a moment of privacy. Grant gave permission and all the men dismounted, using this opportunity to fill their water bladders for the long journey ahead.
Lyall moved downstream and removed her gloves. Red-stained hands were dipped in the water and scrubbed. She talked agitatedly to herself as she worked. “Ye didn't have to be so public about it.”
“And why not? She deserved it. She's been trying to get us burned at the stake for years.”
“They will come after us.”
“They can't prove anything, so why waste the men on the life of one worthless woman?”
“I should never have asked ye back.”
“Aye, ye are probably correct, but I think I like it enough to stay.”
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Grant could hear Lyall prattling on about something. He had spent so long ignoring her oddities, and now was no different. The mistress rubbed her hands as if bound and determined to rub the skin right off. Then he heard a noise; a scream rent the air. It sounded like a primeval sound, a wail of anguish and torment, but it was coming from such a great distance Grant couldn't be sure of the origin or the intent.
“What was that?” asked Bryce.
One of the other men said, “It sounded like a scream from the keep.”
The men silenced their activities in the hope of hearing the noise again, but nothing happened.
Lyall came back to the waiting horse. “What are ye looking at so stupidly? Honestly, I'm ready to go home. Let's move.”
Bryce watched the mistress ride away and shrugged. “Maybe it was only the wind?”
Grant said, “Maybe.” Although he felt in his gut something more serious had occurred, he didn't turn around. The men were already moving toward home, and there was no turning back.
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Duncan had fashioned pens for the twins to play in while outside. It worked well at keeping them from rolling away or just keeping them safe from animals that wandered around the yard. Unfortunately, any critter small enough to fit under the pen was fair game for the twins to try and consume. Tamara spent a fair amount of time rescuing bugs and other creepy crawlers from the infants' clutches.
Arbella worked side by side with Duncan in building a new church. In two days' time a regular parson was to arrive, and they wanted the building to be ready for its maiden voyage. Although everyone in the keep had yet to be reborn in Christ, they all took great pride in the construction of a new worship house.
Arbella leaned back and arched her aching back, studying the building before her. The couple had been planning this for some time.
Duncan had revealed his struggles with faith and depending on other people. He explained how Sarra had witnessed to him while he stayed with her and Cedric, and how he hadn't given all to God until the children had been born. In their hearts, they both knew this church building was something they could do to help themselves and others in a journey to find Christ.
Through Sarra, Cedric, and others, they secretly acquired an English version of the Bible. At night before bed, they spent time studying God's Word together. They both began to feel they needed a way to share this message, which led to the building of God's temple.
The work was grueling, since they wanted to finish before the minister arrived. At night Arbella ached from head to toe, falling exhausted into Duncan's arms. Fortunately, the babes were sleeping through the night.
As she worked, little Andrew could be heard crying. A drop in her milk was felt. Arbella walked over and picked up her son. Going to a nearby shade tree, she sat down and nursed. He was such a greedy little thing, perfect in every way, at least to his mother.
As Arbella sat and stared at her son, his pert mouth worked. The study was disrupted when the familiar sound of a large group of people on horses entered the keep. Arbella popped her son loose, closed her dress, and stood up. Andrew wasn't happy about losing his meal and stuck his whole hand in his rosy little mouth to make up for its loss.
The visitors came to a halt and dismounted. If she wasn't mistaken, it was Grant and the other men. One woman rode with the group. Could this be Lyall?
Arbella, taking initiative, pointed her finger at the group and yelled, “Duncan!”
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Lyall spotted Duncan. The hunk of a man dropped his tools and came to greet the riders. Grant's hand was clasped, and he received a hearty pat to his back.
“Welcome home, brother.”
“Aye, Duncan, thank ye. It has been too long.”
“Aye, it has.” Duncan motioned a woman forward and pointed to a maid who was holding a little girl. When the group stood at his side he announced, “Meet the newest members of the Sinclair clan, Andrew Fletcher and Glenna Rose.”
The Sinclair men let out a whoop and a shout. Lyall watched as Grant studied Duncan, a proud father, and offered well wishes. “Congratulations, brother.”
“Thank ye. Ye must all be famished.” Duncan's voice rose so all could hear, “Today we shall feast, for our family has returned.”
All around the men slapped each other. Some ran home to check on family members and tell them of the feast. Others, like Bryce and Grant, stood with Arbella and Duncan and fawned over the babes, but Lyall didn't move from her mounted position.
How had the witch done it?
she thought. Somehow she had stolen her babe. The whole way from her father's home Lyall was plagued with worries of pursuit. Sori had killed Darla even though Lyall had forbidden it. Darla couldn't hurt them, but Sori was angry the festivities had been ruined. Sori had plans, and they hadn't included coming back to the Sinclair household. No, her plan was to abscond with Duncan's men by helping them father children with Burns's women, but Darla had intervened. However, Sori did have another plan.
Sori was supposed to be the Burns's leader, and she was determined to remove anyone who didn't agree.
Lyall had told Sori to leave and never return. And although she had felt suddenly alone, she also felt free. Her head was free of the noise. It had given her the enormous ability to think and reflect on some of her less than holy actions; but all those subtle feelings of guilt, all those hints in her heart that she might have done wrong over the years, disappeared when she saw Tamara holding her daughter. It didn't matter that rationally it was impossible that this babe was her child. All that mattered was her babe was still missing, and the babe in front of her was a girl.
Lyall dismounted and walked toward Tamara with a slow gait, her eyes never leaving the child. Words were directed at Duncan, but her gaze was riveted to his daughter. “I guess many congratulations are in order. But couldn't ye have waited until we returned to marry and have a child?”
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Arbella was shocked by Lyall's rudeness. The ex-mistress of the keep addressed the Sinclair laird while only indicating he had one child. Arbella tensed as she sensed something was wrong. While realizing she'd never met Lyall, something about the woman seemed familiar, very familiar.
Before anyone could respond, Lyall added, “Duncan, ye really should introduce me to yer wife. I am certain we will become the best of friends.”
Duncan hesitated. The woman was behaving strangely and held a weird gleam in her eye. Arbella noticed the odd behavior but understood Lyall couldn't be avoided forever, so she introduced herself. “I am Arbella Sinclair. It is nice to finally meet you.”
Lyall's sinister laugh sent cold chills down Arbella's spine. “Ye say that, lass, but trust me, ye don't mean it.”
Arbella didn't know how to take the statement. But before Lyall could fan the flames of the fire she'd started, Grant interrupted, “Lyall, ye must be exhausted from the journey. Would ye allow me to escort ye into the keep?”
“So now I am Lyall. Not Mistress Lyall or Mistress Sinclair, just Lyall.” An intense dark look was directed at Arbella. “Ye see how these men are. They will replace ye in a heartbeat. Just out with the old and in with the new, without even a second thought to a lady's delicate feelings.”
Grant grabbed and pulled her away from Duncan's gaping mouth. As she was pulled toward the keep, she yelled, “Ye better be careful and not get locked away somewhere, or ye might be forgotten.”
Arbella drew Andrew close. Lyall's statement brought back a flood of memories: the dark musty smell of the cellar, the lack of air in the room as she sat there wondering if she was going to perish. Did Lyall know something about the person who had locked her in the cellar? It had happened so long ago Arbella had almost forgotten the entire incident.
When she looked to Duncan, however, she noticed he had not forgotten, and he was having the same thoughts as she. Hands turned to fists, and knuckles turned white as his grip intensified. “I will kill her with my bare hands if she had anything to do with ye being locked in the cellar.”
Arbella reached for him, but he moved away, bent on retribution. Arbella thrust her son toward Bryce. “Tamara, take Bryce with you and take the children to their rooms.”
Tamara and Bryce headed to do as they were told while Arbella raced to catch Duncan. A mere foot from Lyall's door, her voice of pleading cut through the fog of revenge that clouded his mind, causing him to stop. “Duncan, please wait.”
He faced her worried countenance. “What do ye suggest? Should we just let her go free? She tried to kill ye!”
“Duncan, we don't know that for sure.”
“Well, she may not have said it plainly, but it was plain enough for me. She was all but gloatin' about sticking ye in that hole. Arbella, I tell ye she is evil.”
Duncan was new to faith, and turning the other cheek was harder for him. “Duncan, she may well be evil, and she may have been the one who stuck me in the hole. She may have done all matter of wicked things in her life, but don't scar your soul by hating her. What one of us hasn't done things we regret? Remember we are all evil apart from God. Aye, she needs to be brought to justice, but let us bring her before the council and have them decide her fate. You will regret it later if you don't pursue this properly.”
****
Duncan doubted he would regret punishing Lyall. He should have known every incident in the keep had been a result of her presence. Why had he not noticed how peaceful and uneventful his life had been since her departure? He was distracted, of course, by the woman in front of him. She was flushed with exertion, which only made her more appealing. They hadn't made love in some time because of the twins sapping so much of their energy.
Thoughts of long arduous nights flooded his mind. Duncan grabbed her, drawing her close, before leaning down and nuzzling her neck. “Ye are right. I will convene the council tomorrow.” Then he added between little kisses planted along her cheek, “Where are the babes?”
Breathlessly, Arbella answered, “Tamara and Bryce took them to our rooms to wait for us.”
“Then I guess we better hurry.” He clung to her hand, dragging her down the hallway and back out the front doors toward the stable. They entered, and Filib looked up from mucking out a stall. Duncan said, “Get out.”
Filib threw down the pitchfork and left the stables with a smile on his face and a whistle on his lips. Duncan walked to the door and wedged it closed. He turned to face Arbella, blocking everything from his mind but satisfying a very deserving wife.
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Lyall assumed Duncan would follow her after her statement. She had forced Grant to leave her, pretending she had an ache in her head. Once alone, she retrieved the dagger that remained hidden in her room and proceeded to hide behind the door, waiting for Duncan's entrance. Once she took his life, there would be no one left to stop her from claiming her daughter.