A plume of hot breath escaped Adelyn Scott’s lips. Please God, dinna let ‘em find me.

Holding the reins in a white-knuckled grip, she braced herself atop the speeding horse. The sound of hooves stamping the ground echoed in the night like a brewing storm. She didn’t know how far she had come or how much farther she would go, but she would ride her horse into the ground if necessary.

The farther she traveled the pitted terrain, the more the jutted rocks and uneven ground rose before her like judge and jury. Even the weather held its conviction. Adelyn raced northward using only the constellations as her guide toward refuge from the bitter cold, although she had more to fear than mere frostbite.

The cloak of darkness slowly lifted as the horizon changed from a star-pitted sky to hues of pink and orange.

As the horse reached the highest peak, the towers of a castle came into view. The dying light of the torches atop the ramparts illuminated the curtain wall that spread across the mountainside like majestic wings. Perched high on the hill, she felt as vulnerable as a field mouse under the watchful eye of a hawk.

This was not a mere homestead of some neighboring clan. She recognized this place. Edinburgh Castle. She had been there once before, though it had been many years since she last set eyes on it. This was home to the James, the Scottish King. The only man who could save her. 

Making the sign of the cross, she took in a sharp breath and veered her horse toward the castle village nestled between her and the outer gates. Without slowing, the horse weaved its way through the line of crofts at Adelyn’s command until they reached the castle gates. Adelyn pulled tight on the reins, bringing the horse to a sliding halt on the dirt road.

She kept a keen eye affixed on the guard manning the watchtower as she slowly dismounted. Pulling the reins, she guided her horse forward through the stone archway leading into a crowded, paved courtyard.

The courtyard was as busy as the streets of London. Carts piled high with furs, linens and late harvest fare were stationed near the entrance. And stacked along the castle walls were nearly two dozen barrels of ale. Preparations for the coming winter were well underway.

Adelyn’s senses were filled with the pungent aroma of manure that drifted along the southern winds from the freshly plowed fields, and of decaying remains from a corpse dangling at the end of a rope near the castle gate. Her hand flew to her mouth, her stomach roiling at the sight of a bird pecking at the dead man’s eyes.

She tied her mount to a post near the stable and scurried up the stairs of the gatehouse. She rapped hastily on the wooden door, nervously pulling at the pendant around her neck, until the door swung on its hinges. A loud echo sounded inside the empty foyer as a tall, round-bellied man stood in the doorway. He eyed her for a moment; peering over her as if she were some poverty-stricken beggar. He had given her no greeting. Now was not the time for patience.

“I need to see the king at once!”

Tugging on his beret, he brought his attention back to her eyes, but kept silent.

“Did you no’ hear me? I need to see King James at once. ‘Tis a matter of life and death!”

“Where are yer escorts?”

“I have come alone.”

“The king is no’ seeing visitors. Ye may try again tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow? But Sir, please, I must speak to him.”

“Did ye no’ hear me the first time, ye wee chit? I said, no one sees the king.” His growl, like a threatening dog, caused her to take a step back.

“Is that how ye speak to a lady?” another man asked as he emerged from a room across the hall.

His condescending voice was as alarming and intimidating as his predecessor’s. Adelyn noticed the quick gasp of the guard as he registered the other man’s unexpected presence. As the mysterious man stepped from the shadows and into the light, her eyes widened. He was tall as timber and huge as a bear, but his manner was as welcoming as a spring day.

“My apologies, Baron. I did no’ see ye. I am only following orders. I was told to no’ allow anyone in. Lady or no’.”

The bearish man’s brow knitted in annoyance, but quickly dissipated the moment he glanced down at Adelyn. Had she not known better; she would have sworn just then she saw a glimmer of compassion in his eyes.

Keeping a soft gaze on her, the man replied, “I am sure we can make this one exception. The lady is, after all, in apparent distress. As it is our Lord’s wish to help those in need, I see no reason to deny her. If ye wish, ye can tell yer commander that I have allowed the lady to enter. If he expresses concern over the interruption, he can take it up with me in my chamber.”

Turning to the guard, commanding his full attention, he asked, “Do ye understand?”

The guard grunted before nodding his head, stepping aside, and returning to his duties.

Offering a half smile, Adelyn softly thanked her defender, making a small curtsey.

“Ye must forgive my comrade. He knows not of compassion and has a great deal of ignorance. He was no’ wrong, though. The king has ordered no visitors today. He is entertaining guests from France and will be departing soon.”

“Departing?”

“He has business to attend but should return within a few days.”

“A few days?” she replied in a strained voice. “I do not have a few days.”

“My lady, I would be honored to fulfill yer request, but the king is no’ available for unscheduled visits. I, however, can deliver yer message if ye wish,” he replied, his gaze fixed on the area of her ample, albeit cloaked, bosom. Uncomfortable at his ill-bred stare, she grabbed the collar of her cloak and wrapped it even tighter.

“That is kind of ye, but this is a matter for the king’s ears only. If ye are certain the king will no’ see me, then I am forced to find refuge elsewhere. I have no time to waste. Good day.”

Unwilling to risk her fate on a stranger, she turned toward the door, but as she reached for the strap the man stepped in front of her, pressing his back to the door.

“My lady, I do no’ make it a habit to turn away those in need. Nor am I an ignorant mon to not have noticed the bruising along yer wrists or the fact that ye are favoring yer left side. Perhaps, a swollen ankle? Mind ye lass, I do no’ miss much. Ye have come here for help and I have offered ye assistance. But if ye wish to leave, may I at least suggest a warm meal and perhaps if ye would allow, the castle’s healer should take a look at ye. You’d no’ get far wit’ an injury like that.”

For a well-versed woman, Adelyn’s mind went blank. Was it possible the man had the ability to read her thoughts? It seemed improbable that in just a few short minutes, his evaluation of her was so accurate. “Ye need no’ leave, lass. Ye are safe here. That, I promise. If ye wish, I will speak to the king myself on yer behalf. I may no’ guarantee ye an audience, but at least allow me to make good on my word.”

“You would do that?”

“Aye, I give ye my word on my honor as a Scotsman. I admire yer tenacity lass, and I respect yer reservation if ye still do no’ wish to trust me, but may I at least have the favor of yer name?”

“What for?”

“If ye wish to see the king, it might help to know who is asking for him.”

For as long as she could remember, she had never met an honest man. Even a man of the cloth’s faith could be tested; even they could not prove they were without sin. As easily as a whisper, or the drop of a coin, the scale could tilt between politics and religion. It was not about honor or integrity, but loyalty. No matter what side one served, there was always compromise.

“Adelyn. Lady Adelyn Scott. And what do they call you?”

“I am Eamon MacLeish, personal guard and advisor to the king. Well, Lady Adelyn, I will see to it at once that yer request is at least considered. While I speak to the King, I will have one of our housemaids attend to yer needs. Until then, there is no reason to stand in this drafty doorway. Ye may wait in the solar. Follow me.”

Sheepishly walking behind him, she took a quick glance inside the commotion-filled chamber from which he had emerged when she arrived. Inside, a group of men sat around a wooden table. Cards were splayed across the top, and each man sat in front of a small stack of coins. Near the far end was an empty chair, which she assumed belonged to her champion. She heard the sound of coins clanging together. The sound seemed to be coming from a leather pouch which swung like a pendulum from his belt.

Eamon cleared his throat to gain her attention, and Adelyn peered up at the giant who now stood nearly a foot away. Gazing up at his indifferent smile, she quickly got lost in the depths of his eyes. His aurora-green irises were as clear as a summer brook, and his Nordic-bronze hair rested over his shoulders like a lion’s mane, soft and wild.

“Try to keep up,” he said in a gritty voice as he turned and led her down a long corridor.

Leading her to the room at the end of the hall, he held the door open allowing her to step inside. As she stepped further into the room, a wave of warmth encompassed her like a blanket as she neared the hearth where a roaring fire was ablaze.

The room was modest. To her left were two cushioned chairs and a small marble-topped table situated in front of the hearth. To her right, light peaked through two large windows partially covered with mahogany-colored fur. Royal portraits adorned the walls and the shelves proudly displayed chalices and trophies; evidence of the king’s many victories.  

She had never met the king in person but knew something of his character with his own disconcerting past. In truth, they were not much different. She could only pray that he would offer her the same sympathy she had in regard for him.

“I heard we have a young lady in our midst,” an auld woman exclaimed as she burst into the room.

“How did ye…?”

“Oh Eamon. Ye should know by now that I know everything that goes on in this castle.”

Pushing past Eamon, she walked straight to Adelyn. “Oh, look at ye. Frightened like a wee mouse. Well, dinna ye worry lass. We will get ye cleaned up in no time.”

“Lady Adelyn, this is Mrs. O’Grady. She is our castle healer.”

“Oh, where are my manners? Call me Catherine, dear. No sense in formality ‘round here.”

“It is very nice to meet you and I thank ye for your concern, but I really don’t need to be fussed over.”

“Nonsense. Now, let me have a look at ye. Are ye injured?” the healer asked as she began removing Adelyn’s cloak.

“I may have twisted my ankle a bit.”

“Mary, mother of saints! Ye got dried blood all over ye. There must be a wound festering somewhere with that amount of blood. If ye would just allow me to examine ye, I’ll…”

“It’s not mine,” Adelyn blurted out.

Simultaneously, both Catherine and Eamon looked awkwardly toward her then each stole a glance at the other. Tension heightened in the room.

“Well, we ne’er can be too careful. Have a seat and I shall look ye over.” As Adelyn timidly sat down upon the chaise, the woman displayed no awkwardness at the intimacy. Flipping the hem of Adelyn’s dress up over her knee, the woman seized Adelyn’s ankle and examined it.

Eamon discretely turned from the sight of her exposed ankle. “I see ye are in good hands. While Catherine attends to ye, I will make yer request to the king. If you ladies will excuse me,” he said, keeping his gaze fixed on the door behind them, not daring to look in Adelyn’s direction before his departure.

“Well it does no’ appear to be broken,” Catherine noted. “But ye should have it wrapped for at least a few days. I may have some herbs ye can add to yer bath that should help heal it faster. I will go gather some things. In the meantime, if ye can walk, I’ll take ye to one of the guest rooms for ye to dress and bathe as I am sure ye are wanting to change out of yer riding clothes.”

“This gown is all I have,” Adelyn admitted, shame crawling up her throat in a wash of pink.

“Well, if ye dinna mind me speaking freely, my lady, ye aren’t exactly dressed for an audience with the king,” Catherine noted.

Adelyn looked down at her hands, seeing for the first time the blood dried along her cuticles, and torn, blood-spotted dress. She was a sight, and an embarrassing one at that. It was no wonder there had been a look of disgust on the guard’s face and he’d addressed her so poorly. He must have taken her for a flea-bitten serf. What of Eamon? How was he able to look past her disheveled appearance and offer her the aid she was in such desperate need of? She could not possibly imagine what he must think of her. Clasping her hands together, she did not know how to respond.

“Dinna fret, my lady. The king has many mistresses. Come wit’ me. I am bound to find a dress or two that will fit.”

Catherine brought Adelyn to one of the chambers on the second floor of the castle. Inside was a large four-post bed, and a hearth along the far wall, but what appealed to her most was the reading nook within the alcove of the arched window. The arch was beautifully handcrafted, and the window was a brilliant stained glass with a rainbow of colors.

“This was Lady MacMaren’s chamber, but she is on holiday. Traveling the Orient, I believe. Dinna worry. Now that King James found her a new husband, she will no’ be returning for some time, I would imagine.”

“The Orient?”

“Aye. Lady MacMaren is quite the wealthy woman. She was widowed twice, and both her husbands left her a great fortune. She was King James’s favorite whenever she was at court, ye ken? He favored her husbands with lands and wealth in exchange for her company,” Catherine winked as she stepped inside the wardrobe.

Adelyn stifled a laugh, amused by the auld woman’s loose tongue.

 “Speaking of good fortune, I have found ye a fine gown,” Catherine said as she returned from the wardrobe holding a deep blue dress, stitched with gold trim and a gold embroidered belt. Adelyn recoiled when Catherine held the dress near her to judge the fit.

“I’m sorry, but the stench of the dress makes me nauseous. What in heaven’s name did the woman do while wearing it? Can you please have someone air it before I put it on?”

Catherine took the dress back and shook her head. “Aye, we’ll have it aired, right and proper. The woman was no lady, if ye take my meanin’, and she perfumed hersel’ to high heaven. It’s rumored she was tryin’ to get the king to marry her, which is why he sent her abroad after her betrothed—ach, t’would have been her third husband—died.”

Catherine was interrupted by a loud thud as the door swung wide, hitting the wall. A young woman, heavy with child, approached holding a steaming mug with both hands. Gently placing it on the bedside table, she rested a hand on her lower back.

Catherine greeted her, “Good morn’ Mairi. How are ye and the wee bairn feeling today?”

“He’s been kicking all morning.”

“My lady, this is Mairi Gardiner. She is our cook and head housekeeper, and this, Mairi, is Lady Adelyn…”

“Scott. Adelyn Scott,” she chimed in, formally introducing herself.

“Well Lady Scott, if there is anythin’ ye need, just ask. I passed Eamon in the hall and he requested I bring ye something warm to drink. I hope it is to your liking. How long will ye be staying wit’ us?”

“I am not quite certain.”

“Well no matter how long, I do hope you feel welcome.”

“Thank ye.”

“I must return to the kitchen. It is time to start on the afternoon meal. Good day ladies.”

Adelyn took a sip of the offering. A shiver crept down her spine as the spicy, mulled mead warmed her belly. The taste of honey lingered on her lips.   

“My lady, I will allow ye to get settled. If ye wish, I can send for a bucket of water for ye to wash with, as well as some bandages to wrap that ankle of yours,” Catherine offered.

“I would like that verra much. Thank you.”

“In the meantime, ye should get some rest.”

Adelyn went to the window, opening it wide. The stench of Lady MacMaren filled the space, and she could hardly bear to breathe it in. She decided to sit on the bench near the window as she aired the room and waited for Catherine to fetch hot water for her ablutions.

Edinburgh Castle perched high on the hill, providing her a panoramic view of the king’s land. God himself could not have painted a more beautiful picture. Rolling hills and rust-colored leaves decorated the landscape. Just beyond the rugged terrain were the coastal waters of the Northern Sea. She could smell brine wafting in the air, which sparked a faint childhood memory of a time when she knew little of war or politics, and her only care was simple childish indulgences of playtime and family.