The Betrayal - By Ruth Langan Page 0,24
vigil across the meadow, near the flock of sheep.
What was she to do about these feelings? There were times when she thought she just had to touch him, to assure herself that he was real. After a lifetime of seeing his face in her mind, she feared he might disappear before she had a chance to tell him just what was in her heart.
What was in her heart?
She wasn’t certain if what she was feeling was true love, but she cared deeply about him. And with every day spent in his company, those feelings grew.
“Is the laird taking you to his home to be his wife?”
Flora’s words broke through Kylia’s reverie. She looked over in surprise. “Nay. I accompany him because he needs my help.”
“How can you help such a great laird?”
Kylia’s cheeks felt warm. What could she possibly say to this woman that would make sense? “I have certain gifts which the laird has need of.”
“Gifts, my lady?”
Kylia’s flush deepened. “I can see things.”
“What things do you see?”
“The past. Occasionally the future. It comes to me in visions.” She waited, afraid to breathe, for fear of this young woman’s reaction. Instead of the rejection she anticipated, the young woman accepted her explanation without question.
Flora’s mouth was split by a wide smile. “Oh, my lady, my grandmother was also thus blessed. She told me, when she first met Ewald, that he would ask for my hand. Though I didn’t believe her at first, I was later persuaded just how wise a woman she was. Our family always knew that she had special gifts which the rest of us didn’t possess.” She looked down, avoiding Kylia’s eyes. “Since you’re blessed, could you tell me…” Embarrassed, she swallowed back her words.
Kylia reached a hand to hers. “You needn’t ask. I can read the question in your heart. This will be the daughter you desire.”
The young woman gave a soft laugh. “Not even Ewald knows about it yet. I wasn’t even certain myself.”
“Believe it,” Kylia said gently, touching a hand to the young woman’s abdomen. “She will be a beautiful child, and will bring you much happiness in your old age.”
“Thank you, my lady.” Flora clasped her hands together.
As Kylia got to her feet and started toward Grant, she caught a glimpse of the young woman wiping a tear of joy from her eye and was forced to whisper a word of thanks to the Fates that had given her this strange gift of sight. Though such a thing set her apart from many, it was as much a part of her as the color of her eyes, or the texture of her hair. And not something she would ever care to deny. Though her family had been forced into exile because of their extraordinary gifts, Kylia wouldn’t change a thing even if she could.
While Grant readied the cart for a journey to the distant village, Kylia took comfort in the water of the bubbling stream. It had always been her refuge and her greatest pleasure. Even here, so far from home, she felt connected as she stepped into the clear, cold water. As she splashed deeper she spied the fat salmon lurking in the shelter of submerged rocks. It took her less than a minute to snatch the fish from its lair and toss it onto shore. While she made several leisurely turns across the stream she caught sight of more salmon. By the time she walked from the water and hurriedly dressed, she was able to fill her skirts with enough salmon to feed them all.
At the campsite Ewald lay talking softly with his wife. It was clear that he was in a great deal of pain, but he managed a smile as Kylia approached.
“My lady. Flora tells me that I owe you my life.”
“Nay, sir. If it hadn’t been for Lord MacCallum’s quick thinking, neither of you would have survived the fire. All I did was try to ease a bit of your suffering.” She knelt down and showed them her catch. “With such as this we’ll dine like royalty tonight.”
“Let me help.” Flora knelt beside her and the two young women began scaling the fish before setting them to cook over the hot coals.
From the ruins of the cottage Flora retrieved the remains of flour and sugar stored in a small dirt cellar. Soon the air was redolent with the fragrance of biscuits baking.
By the time Grant laid down his tools and joined them, their mouths were watering.
Though the