The Falconer's Daughter, Book 1

Chapter 3 - Part 2

"But he doesn't know," he said, carefully closing the tunnel door, hiding the opening beneath a wild tangle of ivy and vines.

"Has this always been here?" She stared at the hidden entrance, intrigued.

"I think so. The tunnel must be a good two hundred years old at any rate. It was probably built back when the castle and walls were just wood."

"What is it for?"

"Defense, I suppose. Escape in times of siege or war. Means for provisions." He looked from the old castle to the forest. "And if you continue this way, straight through the wood, you'll come to a clearing. That's the mews, of course. Someday you'll have a chance to see my father's birds. He doesn't hunt them now as often as he once did."

"You have a falconer?"

"But of course," he said. He then saw what she was getting at and he flushed. "I see, you mean like him-" and he floundered, at loss for words.

"Yes, like my father."

He didn't know how to answer her and so he changed the subject. "I don't think anyone else knows about the tunnel. It has always been my secret." He looked at her uncertainly. "Do you think you can make it over these trees? I have a favorite log I sit on, but it is a rather rocky climb."

She hiked up her skirts. "I like a rocky climb." She smiled at him and stalked into the woods, climbing over the first of the rotting tree stumps and jumping down past the great mound of wild mushrooms. "This is lovely," she said, taking care not to smash any of the purple wildflowers blooming between fallen branches.

He pulled himself up on top of the big tree that lay across the small clearing, making room on the log for her. She threw one leg over the trunk and then another, settling her skirts over the smooth bark. "I love it here," she said, drawing a great breath. "Why didn't you show me before?"

He shrugged. "I don't know."

"You might have even liked my mountain." She turned to look at him, wispy blonde hair falling across his forehead. "Ben Nevis," she said it as if it were sacred. "No one but us lived on it."

"Your mountain? But surely you didn't own it."

She wished he hadn't said that. It made her feel bad, feel small. Of course they didn't own it. People didn't own mountains. They couldn't own nature or fairy faith. It was all just part of things. "No one lived on it but us." Her chest hurt when she answered, as if suddenly reminded of all that she had lost.

He leaned on his arm, rubbing his cheek against his jupon. "Sometimes I feel sorry for you," he said softly. "You don't like it here much, do you?"

"No." She didn't even like him very much at that moment. He didn't understand anything.

"And yet the others envy you. Can you believe that?"

"Envy me? Who?"

"Elisabeth. You must know that she is terribly jealous. She wants to be terribly rich and Grandfather Macleod left you everything--his estate, the lands, the income."

"Absolutely everything?" she repeated, feeling rather dense. They had never talked about her inheritance before.

"Well, almost everything. But you weren't supposed to inherit. My Uncle Dunbar was first, and then his sons. But they all died at Angus the same day. And so you, who were only supposed to have enough for a small dowry, inherited all."

"But what about you? And Elisabeth and Eddie?"

He shrugged. "We were given fifty thousand sterling each. It isn't a significant amount, not when compared to your four or five hundred thousand. I don't know. It may be more, particularly if the port in Aberdeen is developed."