Dark Embrace by Brenda Joyce Page B

bedchamber.
    Brie stared after him until he was gone from her sight. Then she held her head, her temples throbbing.
    He was taking her with him. She was going to march on Inverness with four thousand rebel Highlanders?
    She had to stop him from going to war or, failing that, prevent his imminent execution. He was in so much pain. He needed healing and his son needed peace. If he could let go of his grief, maybe he could heal and find his way back to his faith.
    My god, Brie thought, her headache increasing. She was only one shy and modest techno geek, and not a very brave one—at least, not until recently. What were the gods—and Grandma—thinking? What was she thinking?
    A maid appeared, hesitating on the threshold of her room, interrupting her rampaging thoughts. She held a pile of clothing in her arms. “My lady? His lordship wishes fer ye to clothe yerself. ’Tis cold by day and colder by night,” she added with a smile.
    Brie started. Aidan was thoughtful enough to send her warmer clothes? The maid laid a pile on her bed, and Brie saw a long linen tunic, a black plaid, a belt and fur-lined boots. Then she saw the pince-nez on top of the plaid. She rushed to it. “A pair of medieval eyeglasses!”
    â€œHis lordship took them from his steward,” the maid offered.
    A pair of thick lenses was connected by a simple wire, with no earpieces. Brie didn’t care. She put them on her nose and was thrilled when the maid’s features became clear, right down to the freckles on her nose. She might not have twenty-twenty vision, but she could see.
    Aidan had gotten eyeglasses for her.
    It felt like the kindest thing anyone had ever done for her.
    She turned, and really looked out the window.
    A loch was beyond, as if the castle floated upon it, and the rising sun had stained the water peach and gold. Silver swans drifted in the ethereal morning light, as did a flock of ducks. The shores beyond were covered with snow, but thick, emerald-green woods emerged from them. Beyond the forests, mountain peaks were shrouded in the morning mist, white with snowcaps. For one moment, Awe felt magical.
    But it wasn’t magical—it was medieval, and she was about to go to war. The maid had left. She removed her sweatshirt and put the tunic on over her T-shirt and jeans. She threw her sweatshirt back on, kicking off her sneakers and stepping into the high, furry boots. The plaid was huge—the size of a queen-size blanket—so she draped it over both shoulders like a cape. She added the belt, hoping to hold it in place, and was relieved when she became slightly warmer.
    Had Aidan meant to be kind, or were the gestures been simply practical ones?
    Uncertain, Brie left the bedroom. Ahead was the west tower. It was an open, circular room with no walls separating it from the hall she was crossing. That meant that it had been built for defensive, military purposes. The windows were glassless and of various sizes. The tall, skinny loopholes were for artillery. Others were for bowmen, and the widest was for bombards and mortars. Brie started to become aware of a seething mass of savage and masculine humanity close by.
    Dread arose in her, and she ran to the closest loophole.
    The bailey below was a sea of men and animals.
    Her heart lurched. There had to be hundreds of men below. Armor glinted in the morning light. Interspersed amongst the knights and chargers were the standards of their bearers, waving above them in vivid colors. She could make out the Highlanders, too, in their pale leines and colorful plaids.
    Her pulse had soared to a dangerously high point. She felt so much savagery below. She glanced across the bridge spanning the loch and squinted. She couldn’t see well, but the bridge was shimmering, undulating, as if it were alive.
    â€œHe has four thousand men,” Claire said from behind her.
    Brie whirled. “Is that bridge filled with men?”
    â€œAnd their mounts, and even