Celestial Land and Sea by Amy McLean Page B

was something she knew she ached for too.
    "How long do you think we have?" she finally asked.
    "I'm afraid there's no way of knowing. Although we cannot be sure what Bingham will do to him now that he's locked up, we cannot take any risks. We must act as quickly as possible, that much is certain."
    "Yes, of course. I'll think of something. It's not going to be easy though.'
    "Nothing is ever easy with that brute Bingham."
    "Poor, poor Tibbott," Cathleen added.
    "He just never seems to stop. You know how difficult things are now, and I'm certain that all of it is Bingham's fault. We are losing more and more each day. If it continues much longer, I dare say we won't have anything left. There'll be no cattle or land to call our own."
    "Whatever are we going to do?" Cathleen wailed once more.
    "The harsh weather is a threat to our crops, which are already in a diminished state. Our land isn't just rapidly declining because of that thief Bingham—what little we do have left is also deteriorating in quality. Even if he left us what remains, we would still struggle to produce enough."
    Grace could tell that times were difficult for them, but she hadn't quite realised the extent of the situation until now. Their misfortunes made her reconsider the effects of the financial problems everybody was facing back home in her own century, and just how insignificant it was for many in comparison.
    "He will be okay, Gráinne, won't he?" Cathleen had finally calmed down but still clung loosely to Grace's arm.
    Grace turned to look at her: "Of course he will be, Cathleen. Don't worry."
    How she prayed that she was right.
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    "Good evening to you, Chieftain." The man nodded at Grace. He and another were humping a bundle of straw down the hill when she noticed them. She smiled at them, not paying too much attention to the fact that she had no idea why they were calling her that, but instead thought to herself that it was quite a peculiar time to be working outside in the darkness.
    The wind picked up as Grace crossed over the hill. She had left Donal and Cathleen together in the kitchen. Donal suggested she might be able to think more clearly if she went up to her castle—which Grace assumed was Donal's code for encouraging her to escape from Cathleen's hysterics—and Grace's curiosity had overruled the situation. Ordinarily she would not have taken too kindly to being left alone in an old castle in the middle of nowhere on her own at night, but she had been mesmerised by it when she first saw it, and had been longing to take a closer look.
    She pulled a woollen shawl tighter around her neck as she continued over the grass. Cathleen had fetched the garment for her before she left, insisting that she wear it so that she didn't catch her death outside. Grace was thankful for the gesture as the evening had turned bitter cold. The material may have been scratchy against her neck, but at least it prevented the wind from reaching her skin.
    The houses behind her grew smaller in the distance as she approached the castle. She stopped a few metres outside of it so that she could study its structure. It wasn't what she would have pictured when she considered a castle. There was no drawbridge. It had no moat. There was no sign of any flag flying from the top of it. It was considerably smaller than Grace would have imagined, too. 
    In the darkness the castle's grey stone walls looked a lot more intimidating than they did when Grace had caught a glimpse of them in daylight. She didn't wish to look directly up at the windows out of the fear that she'd end up seeing a face staring back at her.
    The entrance to the castle was facing her now. A little way in the distance she could see the ship.  The sea stretched out before her, the castle standing a few metres away from the edge of the island. She could almost feel the sea clinging to her as the waves sprayed and splashed, thrown about by the wind. She clutched onto her shawl and headed for