crossed herself. “My uncle is dead.” She choked back a sob.
John looked puzzled. “Dead? I saw him in Turnberry little more than a fortnight ago, and he was as spry and ornery as ever.”
“He was branded a traitor for aiding a Scottish patriot following an attack at Loch Ryan and hanged by Dungal MacDougall.”
John cursed and slammed his fist against a nearby tree trunk. “The day that bastard meets his end canna come too soon. It’s bad enough he opposes the Bruce’s claim to the throne, but his clan’s traitorous acts of aggression against their fellow Scots and their affiliation with the English is inexcusable.”
The older lad waved his wooden sword in the air. “Let me at him, Da. I’ll teach the MacDougalls a lesson they’ll not forget.”
“I think your mam would have something to say about that idea. You’ve only seen ten summers and have more growing to do before you go off to do battle.” He patted the pouting lad’s head then looked at Fallon. “My offer to see you to Turnberry stands.”
Judging by his comments, John’s loyalty lay with Robert the Bruce. With his help, she might be able to reach Bryce and warn him before Dungal arrived. It was now clear that if she continued on foot, she didn’t have a prayer. “I am grateful for your kindness and will accompany you.”
“A wise decision. First, we must return to the castle.” John turned and headed down the path.
Fallon followed. Finding it difficult to keep up with his long strides, she scrambled to stay in step. They exited the forest. In the distance stood the Kennedy stronghold, an impressive castle surrounded by a moat and high stone curtain wall.
John slowed, allowing Fallon to catch up. “This is one of only a few lowland castles that have not fallen under Longshanks’ rule. The English took over most of the coastal holdings, including Turnberry Castle, the former home and birthplace of King Robert.”
Her empty stomach rumbled and the heat of a blush rose in her cheeks.
“Along with your lack of a mount, I noticed you carry no supplies.”
“I had no time to gather any. I left with the clothes on my back and nothing more.” She glanced down at her wrinkled attire then ran her fingers through her windblown hair.
“We can break our fast before we depart, and I’ll ask my wife to fetch you a clean gown. Are you able to ride?”
Fallon squared her shoulders and raised her chin. “Aye, I learned to sit a horse when I was but five summers and ride as well as any man. Some say I have a way with horses.”
“Good. The journey takes us over some very rough terrain. To reach our destination before nightfall we must move quickly. While honorable, I have no doubt my men will find a comely lass distracting. I dinna want to contend with temptation if we are forced to make camp for the night.” He resumed his trek toward the keep.
As they neared the drawbridge, a brawny warrior with graying hair stepped out of the shadows, blocking the entrance to the castle. “The wee laddie claimed he and his brother found a faerie in the woods.” He peered at Fallon, then threw back his head and laughed. “Is this her? She dinna appear fae to me. With her dirt-smudged face and tattered clothes she looks more like a homeless waif.”
Consumed by embarrassment, heat rose in her cheeks. She smoothed her hands down the front of her soiled skirt. “I must look a fright, but have been traveling since yesterday.”
“The lass can wash up before we leave for Turnberry,” John informed the sentry.
“You’re not thinking of taking her along, are you? She will only slow us down. We are going to meet—” The older man stopped speaking when John raised his hand.
“Enough. She is welcome to go with us, but must keep up the pace. After we’ve eaten, we’ll be on our way.” John moved through the castle gate. Fallon tagged along.
They crossed the bailey and despite the murmurs and stares of the crofters milling about, Fallon held
John looked puzzled. “Dead? I saw him in Turnberry little more than a fortnight ago, and he was as spry and ornery as ever.”
“He was branded a traitor for aiding a Scottish patriot following an attack at Loch Ryan and hanged by Dungal MacDougall.”
John cursed and slammed his fist against a nearby tree trunk. “The day that bastard meets his end canna come too soon. It’s bad enough he opposes the Bruce’s claim to the throne, but his clan’s traitorous acts of aggression against their fellow Scots and their affiliation with the English is inexcusable.”
The older lad waved his wooden sword in the air. “Let me at him, Da. I’ll teach the MacDougalls a lesson they’ll not forget.”
“I think your mam would have something to say about that idea. You’ve only seen ten summers and have more growing to do before you go off to do battle.” He patted the pouting lad’s head then looked at Fallon. “My offer to see you to Turnberry stands.”
Judging by his comments, John’s loyalty lay with Robert the Bruce. With his help, she might be able to reach Bryce and warn him before Dungal arrived. It was now clear that if she continued on foot, she didn’t have a prayer. “I am grateful for your kindness and will accompany you.”
“A wise decision. First, we must return to the castle.” John turned and headed down the path.
Fallon followed. Finding it difficult to keep up with his long strides, she scrambled to stay in step. They exited the forest. In the distance stood the Kennedy stronghold, an impressive castle surrounded by a moat and high stone curtain wall.
John slowed, allowing Fallon to catch up. “This is one of only a few lowland castles that have not fallen under Longshanks’ rule. The English took over most of the coastal holdings, including Turnberry Castle, the former home and birthplace of King Robert.”
Her empty stomach rumbled and the heat of a blush rose in her cheeks.
“Along with your lack of a mount, I noticed you carry no supplies.”
“I had no time to gather any. I left with the clothes on my back and nothing more.” She glanced down at her wrinkled attire then ran her fingers through her windblown hair.
“We can break our fast before we depart, and I’ll ask my wife to fetch you a clean gown. Are you able to ride?”
Fallon squared her shoulders and raised her chin. “Aye, I learned to sit a horse when I was but five summers and ride as well as any man. Some say I have a way with horses.”
“Good. The journey takes us over some very rough terrain. To reach our destination before nightfall we must move quickly. While honorable, I have no doubt my men will find a comely lass distracting. I dinna want to contend with temptation if we are forced to make camp for the night.” He resumed his trek toward the keep.
As they neared the drawbridge, a brawny warrior with graying hair stepped out of the shadows, blocking the entrance to the castle. “The wee laddie claimed he and his brother found a faerie in the woods.” He peered at Fallon, then threw back his head and laughed. “Is this her? She dinna appear fae to me. With her dirt-smudged face and tattered clothes she looks more like a homeless waif.”
Consumed by embarrassment, heat rose in her cheeks. She smoothed her hands down the front of her soiled skirt. “I must look a fright, but have been traveling since yesterday.”
“The lass can wash up before we leave for Turnberry,” John informed the sentry.
“You’re not thinking of taking her along, are you? She will only slow us down. We are going to meet—” The older man stopped speaking when John raised his hand.
“Enough. She is welcome to go with us, but must keep up the pace. After we’ve eaten, we’ll be on our way.” John moved through the castle gate. Fallon tagged along.
They crossed the bailey and despite the murmurs and stares of the crofters milling about, Fallon held
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