Love Me Forever
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places,
and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or
are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons,
living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is
entirely coincidental.
Love Me Forever
All rights reserved.
Copyright 2011 Donna Fletcher
Printing History
Jove edition/February 2003
Published by Donna Fletcher at Smashwords, 2011
Cover art by Marc Fletcher
EBook Design by
A Thirsty Mind
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Table of Contents
Scotland, 1513
I AM SORRY, BRIANNA, YOUR HUSBAND IS
DEAD.
Those words resonated in her bead and echoed
in the depths of her soul. She had shed not a tear when her
brother, Ian, had delivered the startling news. She had simply
stared at him in silence. What else was there for her to do? Was
she not waiting on this news? Had she not prayed for this?
Ian had not approached her nor had he
offered her any further condolences. He appeared at a loss as to
how to comfort her and had turned a helpless look on his wife,
Moira.
Her remark had taken her husband completely
by surprise. “You will be late to the village if you do not leave
now.”
Thinking back, Brianna appreciated her
sister-in-law’s directness. She had helped her to face a difficult
moment. Now, sitting alone in the coach a good distance from her
brother’s keep in Glencoe, she was glad for the solitude. Her
brother had protested her departure, insisting she should not go,
insisting that she should not be alone at this time. But solitude
was her friend and she needed this time alone. This time to think
and reason and recall all she had been through.
Moira thought his suggestion nonsense. She
insisted that Brianna had healed nicely over the last six difficult
months and that the villagers were eagerly awaiting her arrival.
She would be instructing them in the making of new dyes and proper
food preparation for the winter, which was but six weeks away. This
trip was necessary not only for the villagers but for Brianna.
Her sister-in-law had been well-schooled at
the convent where she had spent seventeen years of her life before
marrying Ian. A monk had educated her in mathematics and science,
and Moira had never lost her interest in knowledge; she continued
to educate herself as well as those who wished to learn.
Brianna had wished to learn. Her studies had
helped her to heal. It had taken time and she had shed endless
tears in the process, but she had succeeded with Moira’s help in
facing the truth about her husband and her marriage. Arran had been
a handsome and selfish man. He had cared naught but for himself and
in the end his own greed had been his destruction. He had plotted
to murder Moira, the babe, and then Ian, leaving himself to lead
the clan Cameron. He had managed to escape in the end, though not
before threatening to kill his own wife.
She wiped at a single tear. It was not shed
for Arran; he did not deserve her tears. It was shed out of relief
that her ordeal had finally come to an end. She was free, no longer
wed, nor ever wishing to wed again.
She had given her heart only to have it
broken. She had thought love could heal all and survive all. She
would not make that foolish mistake again. She would trust no man,
particularly a handsome man, and besides, she found it difficult to
believe in love. She had thought when she fell in love it would be
forever. She was wrong and she would take no second chances.
There was, however, one man in her life she
knew truly cared for her, and that was her six-month-old nephew,
Duncan. He had captured her heart and she was madly in love with
the tiny lad. And since she was barren, never in her four years of
marriage having conceived a child, she would give her love to her
brother’s son.
The wooden coach hit several bumps in the
road, and Brianna grimaced, knowing it would be a sore bottom she
would suffer upon her arrival. But it mattered little to her, for
she was looking forward to teaching the village women all that
Moira had taught her. Ian had sent two men along with her for
protection. Usually she had many more around her, but with Arran’s
death there was no longer any need for concern and she was
pleased.
She had felt a prisoner. She was now
free.
“Free,” she said softly, smiled, and hugged
herself. It was a good feeling.
Another hard bump had her almost tumbling
off her seat, and when she heard the crack of thunder in the
distance, she assumed the men had hastened the pace in an attempt
to make the village before the storm made the roads impassable.
Autumn was fast giving way to winter and it
was an unusually cold day for November. She wrapped her red and
green plaid around her, her soft green wool tunic and underdress
keeping her warm, and there was a fur wrap in the coach in case the
weather worsened. She felt well-protected.
The coach gave a leap and a bump, and
Brianna took a peek past the leather hide window coverings. She did
not like what she saw. They traveled dangerously close to the edge
of a hill, and while it was not a far drop, it was nonetheless a
drop that could prove fatal to them all.
She sat back in her seat and recited a
silent prayer for their safety. In a few minutes the coach slowed,
though the pace remained hasty, and Brianna sighed with relief.
The sigh was but brief. At that moment the
coach suddenly tilted, sending Brianna smashing against the door.
She tried frantically to grab the window strap for support or to
right herself, but it was a hand’s length from her reach. The coach
then toppled over and she screamed as her body was thrown
senselessly around the toppling coach. It turned over and over and
over, and before it came to a crashing halt on the ground, Brianna
had mercifully slipped into unconsciousness.
Darkness was all she could see and pain was
all she could feel. She dared not make a sound, for that might
disturb the throbbing pain that already resonated throughout her
body. She lay silent in the darkness wondering how she had gotten
here and where here was.
It took several agonizing minutes for her to
regain her senses and realize what had happened. The coach had run
off the side of the road and plunged furiously down the hill,
rendering her unconscious and quite possibly killing the two men
with her. And if that was so, she was now helpless. There was no
one to offer her help or protection, and she was in no condition to
protect herself. She kept slipping in and out of consciousness, and
that made it more difficult for her to focus. Her one constant
thought was that she needed to open her eyes and see to her
whereabouts. If she could determine the extent of her situation,
perhaps then she could determine a solution.
She thought she heard the crunching of
leaves as if someone approached, and at first she felt relief,
though fear quickly followed. If one of the men had survived the
crash, he would have called out to her to let her know of his
approach. A stranger would remain silent.
Robbers and villains were well acquainted
with this area and would waste no time in claiming what they could
from the damaged coach and the bodies they found. Fear raced
through her and only caused her more pain. She hurt so badly that
she could not determine her injuries.
Pain at the moment was in complete control
of her body, and she could only maintain her presence of mind
sporadically.
The heavy footsteps moved closer, the crunch
of the leaves sounding louder to Brianna’s ears. There was naught
that she could do. She was defenseless. She could but wait and meet
her fate.
Being a Cameron, she felt the need to react
with courage since she was unable to defend herself, and she
struggled to open her eyes and meet friend or foe.
With great difficulty she managed to open
her eye enough to see the shape of a dark figure. Tall and broad
were the only distinguishing features she could determine, for her
eyes warred with her to close.
The mysterious figure bent down beside her,
and in an instant she felt herself being lifted into powerful arms,
but the pain that the movement caused her so overwhelmed that she
slipped back into the blessed darkness.
A stab of pain brought Brianna back to
consciousness. Only this time she rested on soft bedding and
comforting warmth penetrated her aching body. Her first thought was
to remain still and linger in this heavenly bliss, but it was a
brief consideration and one she could not take seriously.
She had to know where she was and who had
brought her here. And of course she had to determine if she was in
danger, though there was little she could do to defend herself.
Still, she could not remain ignorant of her situation no matter how
much the soft bedding eased her pain.
She opened her eyes slowly and it took
several agonizing minutes for her vision to clear enough for her to
determine her whereabouts. She lay in a good-size bed with a layer
of coverings over her. And in an instant she realized she lay
naked, not a stitch of clothing on her.
Worry seized her and with great effort she
made a cursory glance around the room. It was a one-room cottage of
fair size, and it smelled fresh as if tended to regularly. She
fought to keep her eyes open and fought to focus them on her
surroundings, but the relentless throb in her head made it a battle
hard to win.
She allowed her eyes a brief rest before
forcing them open once again. This time she caught sight of a table
and two chairs in front of the hearth. She kept her eyes steady on
the stone fireplace. It was large, taking up a good portion of the
wall with a rough log mantel across the stones, a good head’s
height above the flames.
A sudden stabbing pain to her ribs forced
her eyes shut, and she attempted to take several deep breaths,
which only worsened her pain. She wondered if she had broken any
bones, and while she wished to know, she was too much of a coward
to discover for herself. She felt as if she had suffered a bad
beating. Every part of her ached or throbbed, and if she attempted
to move a mere inch she quickly found herself slipping into the
depths of unconsciousness.