already planning his escape. Did he expect Fiona and her to go with him? And if they did not, what then?
She would speak with Fiona about this conversation and see what she thought. It seemed that they needed to be aware of everyone around them. But then they had faced such a situation once before together.
She remembered when they had first arrived at the clan MacElders. Uncle Tavish had told them it would be their home and they need never worry again. The clan was their family and would always be their family.
While they had been accepted and treated well by the clan, they themselves always felt different. They remained close, doing everything together. They were sisters and best friends, and they allowed nothing to come between.
Fiona had sensed there would be trouble when Uncle Tavish passed on. He was a man who gave thought to his actions and consideration to his clan. His son Leith did not think on things; his actions were not always wise or beneficial to all, and he often considered himself before anyone else.
Aliss had known trouble was brewing, for Uncle Tavish and Fiona had talked often, he respecting her intelligence and forthright manner. It was obvious Leith had been jealous, and Aliss wondered, if it had been possible, would Uncle Tavish have left the leadership of the clan to Fiona?
Uncle Tavish had not been dead more than three days when Leith’s rule could be felt and she and Fiona knew that it would take little time and effort on his part to bring the clan to ruin. If it were not for the match between Fiona and Tarr, the MacElder clan would know much unrest and suffering.
While neither she nor Fiona would wish such a plight on their clan, it was not right that Fiona bare the sole burden of Leith’s ignorance.
Aliss turned and glanced at Raynor stretched out and sound asleep on the bed. Had fate brought him into their lives? If this matter did not go the way Fiona wished, would this stranger be their escape to a more peaceful life?
She wasn’t sure. She was just grateful that they would have a choice.
Chapter 11
“Which one rides with me today?”
The twins stopped talking to glance up at him from where they sat at a table near the huge stone fireplace in the great hall. Tarr had learned that they had arrived in the hall before dawn. The cook had advised him that they had seen to preparing their own breakfast, which they had taken to the table where they have been talking ever since the sun rose a couple of hours ago.
They looked at one another as though deciding, then one stood.
“I would like to ride.”
“I will have the horses made ready.” He glanced at the other twin. “How does Raynor fair?”
The twin that stood spoke, “Why not ask him yourself?”
“In time.”
“You let him wonder over his fate.”
Tarr turned to the twin who sat. “A warrior knows his fate; it is the consequence of battle.”
“We decide our own fate,” the other twin said.
“It is not always left for us to decide,” Tarr said. “Fate sometimes has the right answer, we are just too stubborn to see it.”
The other sister stood. “Then fate has a busy day today.” She smiled and walked off.
He was not surprised to see her leave the keep. Each morning one of the twins would stroll the village and look in on those who were ill. He was not certain which twin repeated the daily routine or if they took turns. It was impossible to tell them apart. Their dress was always the same, either a green skirt or brown one, their blouses white or yellow and their red hair fashioned the same, swept up, tied back, or free to spill over their shoulders; today it was worn free.
Tarr extended his hand for Fiona to take the lead. “Let us meet our fate.”
The weather was perfect, a warm day for autumn, not a chill in the air.
Tarr watched Fiona mount her mare, without any help from him. She grabbed the reins, swung herself onto her horse, and waited. He took a moment to talk with the young lad who tended his horses, and from the corner of his eye caught an impatient Fiona lead her horse away from the village.
Her mare was just as impatient, snorting and stumping the ground, her eyes fixed on the open meadow. The animal was itching to break free and run, as badly as he