Free A Promise Given by Samantha James

sometimes led her to provoke him. Certainly
she'd never been one to guard her tongue or mind her manners—nay, not then.
    So why had he kissed her? Was it her fault? The question played through her
mind, an endless litany. Papa had always accused her of being bad. He'd scolded
her for not being more like Margaret. Mayhap he was right, and her soul was
tainted. Mayhap Ian could not help himself… Nay, he was not to blame
.
She
was, for she was as wicked as Papa had always said.
    Margaret… she cringed inside. How could she face Margaret again after what
had happened? Now she knew what shame truly was. She had kissed the man who
would be her sister's husband…
    Sweet Christ… and on the eve of her wedding!
    It was the raucous sounds of activity below-stairs the next morning that woke
her. Sabrina was not surprised, since there had been a flurry of guests arriving
these last few days. She had just finished dressing when she heard a knock on
the door. In answer to her summons, Edna peeped inside. "My lady, is your sister
with you?"
    Sabrina was on her knees searching through her trunk for a veil. Her tone was
distracted. "Nay, Edna, I've not seen her."
    Edna made no reply. When Sabrina glanced up, the girl was still standing
there. She looked confused.
    Sabrina frowned. "What is it, Edna?"
    "My lady… her bed has not been slept in."
    Sabrina scrambled to her feet. "Are you certain?"
    Edna nodded. "Aye. I thought… mayhap… she spent the night with you… this
bein' her last night at Dunlevy…"
    Sabrina shuffled backward through her mind. "I've not seen her since
yesterday morn." A prickly unease slithered up her spine; quickly she pushed it
aside.
    "There must be some explanation," she said crisply. "Surely someone has seen
her. Check with the other servants."
    But no one had seen her. In the yard a short time later, Papa strode up.
"Sabrina, where is your sister?"
    Sabrina could not disguise her worry. "I do not know, Papa. Have you seen her
this morn?"
    "Nay, not since the evening meal last eve." A deep crease appeared between
Papa's brows. "It’s not like her to leave without telling someone of her
whereabouts."
    "Could she have gone for a walk?"
    This came from Ian. He had stepped up behind her without her awareness.
Sabrina turned slightly. She had to stop herself from withdrawing abruptly, like
a skittish mare. Alasdair was with him. Both wore Highland dress—kilts and
plaid. Ian's was secured at the shoulder by a jewel-encrusted brooch.
    Papa hesitated. "She always rode when she left the keep "
    "Her mount—"
    "—is still in the stable." Sabrina could not quite find the courage to meet
his gaze directly.
    It was soon apparent, Margaret was nowhere to be found. All were called upon
to aid, but a search of the keep yielded nothing.
    No one had seen her since last eve.
    Mid-morn, a dozen riders departed the gates. The hiss of whispers from the
guests filled the hall. Sabrina paid no heed. As the hours dragged on, she
struggled against panic. Where could Margaret have gone? And why did she not
return?
    All too soon evening prepared to draw its veil over the land. Papa soon rode
in. Sabrina leaped up and ran to him, a cry upon her lips. "Papa—"
    He shook his head. Her shoulders sagged.
    At the table in the hall, he sat with his head propped between his hands.
Sabrina's heart went out to him, for his face was worn and haggard. She went to
him. Lightly she placed his hands on his shoulders.
    "It will be all right, Papa." She sought to reassure him. "She will
return—why, no doubt within the hour."
    He said nothing. At length he spoke. "Leave me," he said tiredly. "Just…
leave me be."
    Sabrina's hands fell away. She fought back tears. Ah, but she should have
known better! He would not want comfort, nay, not from her.
    She returned to a bench along the wall, to wait anew. Before long, the sound
of horses drifted to her tars. Shouts came from the bailey.
    Ian and Alasdair strode