Taken by Angeline Fortin (great books of all time TXT) 📗

We lay siege to Norham with our score of large caliber cannon under King James’ order but not the Mons Meg, which I believe would be more effective.  It’s taken nearly a week already to break down the castle defenses.  We have taken the outer ward and hope to have surrender from the castle garrison soon. 

Worry not,

mo chroí

; I am in no danger of dying from anything more than the want of you. 

James

August 27

My messenger returned without a letter from you in hand.  Will ye write, lass?  A note from you would bring me great pleasure and a relief from the tedium of long nights without you.

James

August 27

Would that you were here, dear Scarlett.  I’ve naught but Laird to bear me company and his mood is stale, though I can easily guess the reason.  Our supply train remains camped at Wark whilst we move on to lay siege to Norham Castle and ye wi’ it.  Best we take it quickly before we expire from rations of cheese and bread.

Word has reached us that Surrey (an Sassenach Earl, in case you are not aware) has taken up residence for the summer nearby at Pontefract Castle.  By now he has heard of our movement and will muster the Sassenach forces to meet us.

By God’s will, this will all be over soon.

Rhys

August 30

Our forces are now garrisoned at Norham Castle securing the eastern end of our supply route across the Tweed.  We move on to Etal Castle on the morrow.  When it, too, falls we will have gained control of the bridge over the River Till located just west of there, securing our flank against the Sassenach attack.

Will you not write me, lass?

Jam

Laird

September 1

The Lindsay joined our muster at Etal, my dearest Scarlett.  In my ennui during these dull days, I find some humor in the fact that Laird will not approach him though no one else takes note as the Lindsay clan has long been a Hepburn rival.  While I know he doesn’t believe you to be the Linsday’s kinswoman any longer, I believe he avoids the Lindsay simply forestall any news to the contrary.  He will not allow any circumstance to part you. 

Perhaps he cares for you more than I had imagined.  This possibility causes me to worry for you both all the more.

Rhys

The days at the Wark encampment were interminable.  Letters came from both Laird and Rhys as promised though Scarlett had to enlist Aleizia to read their odd handwriting for her.  For a girl used to the instant gratification of email and texts, the notes seemed unbearably infrequent and uninformative.  It ate at her, not being able to Google what was happening.  To have access to an instant newsfeed.  There were no online videos or newscasts to keep her up to date; leaving her with long stretches between those few hastily written lines and a vivid imagination to fill in the rest.

It would have been better for her if he had left while they were still at odds with one another.  When she had anger or even indifference to buffer her troubled thoughts.  As if was he had left his masculine scent upon her sheets and the imprint of his last kiss in her memory.

She missed him.

The fact didn’t sit well with her.

Independence played a key role in her life, self-reliance compensated for the lack of supportive relationships.  Not that her parents didn’t love her (she was moderately certain they did) but parenting wasn’t their priority. She had never been their priority and she’d learned to live without deeper intimacy.  If she were honest with herself, Scarlett didn’t really know what to do with it now.

Being too close to Laird made her as twitchy as a golden snitch on Quidditch day.  Then again having him be too far from her and in dangerous circumstances didn’t leave her feeling any more serene.

That winding path Laird had somehow convinced her to travel with him was become more and more perilous as the days passed.

She simply couldn’t write him back.  With no news of her own to report, Scarlett feared what else she might reveal in writing.

Unfortunately the encampment provided little in the way of distraction.  Scarlett sat with Aleizia on most days, but without sewing or embroidery, or the skills to take up the task, there was little to occupy her hands or thoughts.  Fortunately for her, her young friend did have that distraction because it turned out that sunny, optimistic Aleizia was a serial worrier.  If she didn’t have a needle in her hands, she paced restlessly, too nervous to even listen to a story.

That constant apprehension transferred itself to Scarlett so horribly that she had taken to escaping the tent for long walks or finding ways to make some modern improvements in the encampment.  It had become a horrible, stinking place with slop and sewage running between the tents as people emptied their waste along the tented avenues.  So, she whipped Aleizia’s servants and Maris into shape, making sure they kept their area of the camp clear and clean, boiling water for washing and drinking since she hadn’t discovered any clear springs during her walks.  Wine was no longer an option.

When that didn’t work, she found some peace in the solitude of her tent with yoga.  Child’s pose, dolphin pose, anything to quiet her mind and reduce her growing anxiety.   To fill her days.

The long nights alone were worse.

As her stay in the sixteenth century extended with no end in sight, it should have been easy to dwell on her fears for the future more and more, mentally beating her problems to death.  Even thoughts of Donell, where he might be and if he were looking for her could not overcome her worry for Laird and the battle being fought.  She fretted over his safety and Rhys’ until it was almost too much to bear.  Even her own plight could not plague her so.

There were injuries at Norham, she