Chapter 33
Chapter Thirty-Three
Traversing through the keep was just as easy as Amelia had anticipated it would be. She slipped from the alcove where she’d been hiding into the corridor. A maid crossed her path but didn’t look her way, too concerned with whatever task she was completing.
Everyone is far too busy with their own business. Even if I wasnae tryin’ to hide, they wouldnae be bothered with me.
She walked quickly down the hallway, heading straight to her chambers. On her way, she didn’t see another person, which felt like both a blessing and a curse. She couldn’t be sure that her father hadn’t slipped back into the walls of the keep.
If I run into him again on me own, it’s over for me.
Slipping quietly into her room, her hands shook.
As she brushed her hands over her gown, she was reminded of the healing injury.
When she was walking through the castle, she hardly remembered that she had been hurt.
Now that she was thinking about the long, hard road ahead, she could feel the tenderness in her ribs.
They didn’t hurt badly at the moment, but she knew that it wouldn’t take too long before they ached from overuse.
“I need to wrap them,” she muttered to herself as she walked deeper into the room.
She headed straight for the stash of extra bandages that Isla had left with her.
As she pulled them from the middle drawer of her trunk, she couldn’t help but feel that there was a wrongness to what she was about to do.
Since she’d arrived at Fraser Keep, Isla had been tending to her ribs.
Now, she didn’t have any choice but to do this herself.
Forcing her hands to steady, Amelia undressed enough to reach her bandages.
Then, going slow so she didn’t miss a single inch, she wrapped herself up twice, tucking the rest of the gauze away to take with her.
She felt more stable, like she had the support she needed for the hours she’d have to go without a proper rest.
Her body as fortified as it could be, she turned around to survey the room. The thought of leaving empty-handed made her heart ache, but she’d have to travel light. As she was categorizing the meager belongings she’d accumulated, her eyes caught on something new.
“When did that get here?” she asked the empty room, approaching the canvas lying on top of her mattress as though it might grow teeth.
For a moment, she let her fingers drag over the gentle brushstrokes. She found it almost difficult to believe that Darragh’s hands created this. But then she remembered the way he’d touched her. Those hands had been so gentle and precise, despite the strength that lay beneath the surface.
Her hand clenched into a fist over the golden wolf as she shivered violently.
The hair on her arms and the back of her neck stood on end, and there was a rush of warmth between her legs.
The reaction was completely involuntary, a small but earth-shattering flashback to the edge that she’d fallen over with his mouth pressed against hers.
When she finally recovered from the memory, she brought her hand away from the painting and straightened her back.
Softly, she said, “This is such a lovely piece of art. He shouldnae have had it hidden away.” She shuffled over to the nightstand, opening it and producing a few pieces of parchment that she’d stashed there.
She glanced back at the painting, looking directly at the white doe.
“Ye wouldnae find a good home if ye were to come with me, though I long to give ye one.”
With that, she knelt there, using the surface of the bedside table and a quill from beneath her pillow to write a short note.
Even though she’d rehearsed what she’d write over and over again, the words still didn’t come easily.
It took precious minutes off of her escape time, but she managed to jot down a small message explaining everything she could with the little time she had left.
I kent I said I was goin’ to stay, but what other choice do I have?
She placed the note next to the painting with gentle reverence. Then, she pocketed the extra pieces of parchment, the quill, and the ink. It wasn’t as if she’d be able to write to anyone, but something about having the option felt comforting.
After grabbing a few coins that she’d tucked away, Amelia left her chambers for the last time.
Her chest felt heavy as she hurried away without a second look, but she didn’t have time to stand around and reminisce.
Maybe one day she’d be able to look back at the time she spent here fondly.
That was so far away that it wasn’t even worth thinking about.
She took the back way, a route that Isla had shown her just a few days before, to get out of the castle.
From the service door to the stables, there wasn’t a single person.
It seemed that the staff in this part of the keep was taking advantage of the short time they’d have before they spent the rest of their evening attending to tired horses.
“Just as I thought,” she whispered to herself as she crept into the stables, pausing to listen for signs of grooms still inside. “They must be eatin’ or enjoyin’ the sunshine.”
There weren’t many horses left. Most of them were out, carrying participants of the hunt. The horse that she’d ridden when she went out with Darragh was still there, her hooves shuffling against the ground impatiently.
“I’d love to take ye,” she said to the animal, walking toward her and offering her palm. “But ye mean too much to Darragh. Ye will stay. And perhaps try to convince him to really read me note, aye?”
She let out a warm breath against Amelia’s hand, nuzzling against her for a moment. Then, almost as if she understood that Amelia was running out of time, she pulled back. As Amelia walked to a mare in an adjacent stall, the first made a disgruntled noise.
“I ken,” Amelia said as she prepared the other mare to leave, feeling truly apologetic. “Ye’re better off here, though.” She looked at the other animal. “I willnae treat ye poorly. I can promise ye that.”
Talking to the animals seemed to calm her nerves a bit.
It wasn’t enough to stop her hands from shaking as she tightened the straps of the saddle and tucked the few things that she’d brought along with her into the saddlebag.
She was thankful that the mare she’d chosen was so steadfast. It was a relief to feel something living and breathing and sure beneath her.
Expertly, she urged the horse forward, her heels pressing into her sides.
Just as she had planned before, she pushed the two of them toward the supply entrance at the rear of the keep.
Thanks to the time she’d spent helping around the keep, she knew that there wouldn’t be any deliveries, nor anyone standing by for days.
Scanning the walls, she ensured that none of the guards were making their rounds. It had been the only piece of information she’d failed to get her hands on. At worst, she’d wait for the watch to pass, but somehow, she’d managed to arrive during a gap in the schedule.
“It’s a sign,” she whispered to the mare, increasing their pace slightly. “The fact that there’s nae resistance means that leavin’ is the choice that’s goin’ to save me hide.”
As the two of them crossed through the gates, passing by an unused supply wagon, Amelia brought the mare to a stop.
She looked over her shoulder, giving herself one last moment to memorize the keep.
She could still feel the warmth of the kitchens, hear everyone’s laughter at Isla’s deadpan delivery, and most magnetic of all was the phantom sound of Darragh’s voice.
For a heartbeat, she almost turned back.
Just before she did, the sensation of her father’s icy gaze slammed into her again. Even though he wasn’t here, the memory of it was just as strong as the real thing. If she stayed there, he’d follow her the way an angry wasp would. Cornered in the castle, there was nothing she could do.
“We’ll be off now,” Amelia whispered to the mare, turning her back on the keep, the finality of it making her bones ache.
As they rode off, she felt more and more unsettled.
In a desperate attempt to keep herself from losing her mind, she said to the mare, “I think ye and I will be good friends. I’m nae always so frazzled.
I’m just out of practice, is all. I’m capable, and I can tell ye are too. ”
As true as the words felt, there was a cold weight against the back of her neck. She resisted the urge to rub it, fearing that touching the place would give it power. It was nothing more than paranoia.
* * *
Alistair Mackenzie raised a capable daughter. It was how he knew she’d still be alive. It was how he knew she’d survive being sold to take care of his debts.
But raising a competent child came with significant drawbacks when they disobeyed.
Like now, for example, his ungrateful, uncooperative daughter was riding off on a mare that most certainly didn’t belong to her.
He caught sight of her disappearing just beyond the gates, a flash of a dappled gray horse and her long brown hair darting forward.
He should have known that she’d pull something sneaky.
Or perhaps he’d been hoping she was still too weak to fight. Only time would tell if the time she’d spent away would work in his favor.
He cursed under his breath, urging his own horse forward though he’d lost sight of her figure. She’d always been good at running away and hiding. This was no different. And she was sure to make it difficult for him.
“She kens I willnae stop,” he whispered to his stallion. “But I suppose I dinnae raise her to roll over and show her belly.”