Angel of Skye Read Online Free PDF

risky. That is, wearing it before Lord Macpherson came.
    So, whenever she could get away unnoticed, she continued to go down this path, carrying food, medicines, and whatever else Walter and his people needed. Father Jack had taken the lepers into his own flock when they had moved into the forest near his stone hut. But Father Jack was getting old, and Fiona wanted to help him. She needed to help him.
    For, despite the dangers, Fiona was not going to abandon Walter, the man who found her so many years ago...washed ashore, nearly dead. The one who took her to the Priory, to the place that had been her home ever since.
    Suddenly Fiona’s foot caught on a raised root branch, and she nearly tumbled headlong to the ground. Though she caught herself at the last moment, a shock coursed through Fiona when, to her right, a rustle in the undergrowth exploded as a fat pheasant took flight. The noise and surprise of the bird’s emergence rattled her. Fiona froze in her tracks as a shiver radiated through her body. She looked about her nervously, and for a moment the very shadows of the dawn woods took on a threatening look. Straightening the hood that had fallen from her head, Fiona pulled the cloak tightly about her, as if the thick cloth could control the chill that was coursing through her.
    “These are your woods, Fiona,” she said aloud, breaking into the silence that had fallen around her. “You have traveled this path more times than you can count. Get a hold of yourself. Get a hold of yourself!”
    As if her words were not enough, she found herself reaching down to pick up a stout branch lying beside the path. As she did, she felt the rattle of crockery in the satchel she carried. Crouching in the path, she opened the bag and looked sadly at what had been three empty jugs. Only one jug still intact lay amid the wreckage of two broken ones.
    “Thank you, Lord Macpherson!” she said, fingering the jagged pieces. “Now you have seen to it that I have some explaining to do.”
    Slinging the satchel back onto her shoulder, Fiona grasped the sturdy piece of wood in her other hand and continued on her way, her momentary lapse of confidence forgotten.
    She began to rehearse what she would say to her mistress. “Aye, m’lady prioress,” she said, smiling at the thought of such an unlikely confession. “Two more broken jugs. But it was not my doing this time. It was a chance meeting with that ill-tempered Lord Macpherson. Oh, no, m’lady, you know I would not dream of disobeying you and going to the lepers’ camp alone...again.”
    Fiona came to a stop at a fork in the path. “Let me see,” she whispered to herself. “Safe way home or short way home?”
    “Definitely, the safe way home! Enough excitement for one day.” She turned onto the more traveled path and felt her spirits rising as she continued the imaginary discussion she had just begun.
    “Let me see! Where were we? Aye, m’lady! Lord Macpherson...Lord Macpherson? Why, he just galloped right through the priory laundry while I was hanging the wash. What, m’lady? It is true that I have not done the wash for some years now. I know, m’lady! I have other responsibilities. But you see, it was such a beautiful day. And I was trying to help the other sisters. Especially Sister Beatrice. She has a summer cold she cannot be rid of.
    “Aye, you should have seen him. The laird is quite an imposing figure riding his horse the way he does. But that innocent bird tied to his wrist. The poor creature. The jugs, m’lady? Oh, no, they could not have been filled with herbal teas for the leper folk. They were filled with...water...aye, jasmine water. What, m’lady? We do not use jasmine water to scent the laundry?
    “Hmmm!” Fiona slowed her pace, now thinking about that one. “No jasmine.” But then her eyes sparkled and she picked up her pace again.
    “I am sure you are correct, m’lady. Clearly, I must have been so enraptured with the spiritual aspect of my