“The morn had dawned with the chill of winter. She grabbed the reins, mounted the mare, and then patted the horse’s smooth flanks. “I did not name you, girl. For you are not to be mine. I pray Konáll finds you a kind mistress.” She set her heels to the chestnut’s sides and urged her into a canter. The ferry ran from the west coast of the isle to the mainland. One of Dermid’s cousins operated the ship that departed at midmorn. She spurred the horse into a gallop and refused to think of Ko...náll. She would mourn his loss later when safely ensconced at Circe Fearn Abbey. She tugged on the reins and slowed to a trot when they approached the highest peak on the isle, Mount Nèamh, named for Christ’s heaven by the priest who had served her grandfather. The dense forest of pines that coated the mountain perfumed the frosty air cresting the narrow trail she followed. The news of her Da and Mama’s betrayal by Gudrun had hit her hard, but she’d had no time to grieve.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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