Yesterday's Promise by Michele Paige Holmes

Author:Michele Paige Holmes
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Scottish Historical Romance, Scottish Romance, Historical Romance, Clean & Wholesome Romance, inspirational romance
Publisher: Mirror Press, LLC
Published: 2017-07-04T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

The moon had trekked halfway across the sky when I woke with both a sense of urgency and a feeling of imminent dread. I turned toward Collin and found him gone.

Hurry. A chill brushed against my shoulders as I sat up. I glanced around to see what or who had caused it but met only darkness. The necessity of leaving, of finding Collin intensified. I stood, discarding my blankets, and began walking toward a light so distant that at first I wondered if it might be a star. My steps were quiet, my stockinged feet stealing softly through the tall grasses of our camp.

Gradually the light grew brighter and closer, and upon cresting a hill I saw that it was not one light, but several, all streaming from the windows of an immense castle perched on top of the cliff before me. A thrill of anticipation shivered down my spine. The light was for me, beckoning me close to discover some wonderful secret.

I will not be alone for long. Collin is there— waiting. I ran as fast as my feet would carry me, tripping and sliding up the steep slope, ignoring the jagged rocks that scraped my shins when I fell and the burning in my lungs as I climbed higher.

Hurry.

I arrived, breathless, upon the doorstep, and the great iron doors unfolded, swinging inward, inviting. Light spilled from within, warming me, drawing me in.

Just inside I stopped in a vast hall, arched high with timber and stone. A circular dais stood in the center, upon which a singular casket resided, surrounded at the head by the flame of a hundred candles. My excitement fled. I reeled backward, clutching my middle against a sudden, crippling sorrow. My back bumped against the doors, and I turned to them, pulling the handles in a vain attempt to flee.

“Let me out!” I cried, beating my fists upon the doors. I begged and pounded until my knuckles were raw and bloodied, but the doors would not open. I leaned my head against them and wept.

“Oh, Collin.” I whispered his name and knew it was he in the casket. With every breath my heart broke more. I had not known I cared so much, but the grief encompassing me surpassed even that which I had felt for my father. Instead of being mystified at it, I suffered under the worst kind of anguish, of a love forever lost. I pressed my hands to my chest, a feeble attempt against the physical ache crushing me.

“Please,” I begged at the doors once more. Release me from this.

Come.

Against my wishes I heeded the demand, facing the center of the room once more and

stumbling toward the dais. I stood before the box that held my Collin, then fell to my knees, laying my hands and face to the smooth wood as tears streamed down my cheeks.

Collin, the man I loved more than it seemed anyone ought or should or could love, was dead.

A terrible creaking came from within, shaking the casket, causing the candles to flicker.

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