My Heart Will Go On

Legend Love by Joan Grammer © Copyright 2009 This work may not be reproduced without express written consent of the author. CHAPTER 1 Ah! There it was! Great Castles of England. Heather had been watching this program since she first noticed it was on. She'd had a fascination with castles since she was a little girl and this station did such a good job showing them. Even the very old and ruined castles were recreated sometimes. {"Braunwythe Castle. Sacked and abandoned in the late 14th century, it's ruins can still tell a story."} The narrator continued as Heather returned with her iced tea, folded her legs under her and snuggled deep into the chair. The castle, she hadn't quite caught the name, was in ruins. There! Now they are starting the recreation. Wait! She knew this place. It was impossible, but she knew this place. "There. There's going to be a bedchamber." She was talking to the television now. "That leads to the kitchens! How could I know that?" She wondered out loud. She didn't get up, not even when the commercials came on. She was determined not to miss the name of the castle. {"We continue with our tour of Braunwythe Castle..."} Braunwythe Castle. She had heard that name before. Maybe in college, she hadn't been out very long. No. That didn't seem right. She had to think. "That dream!" she suddenly remembered the dream she had when she was twelve and in a coma. She'd fallen out of the tree that she had been told not to climb, and stayed in a coma for an entire day. When she woke, she recounted her experience in the castle. They all said it was a dream. She believed it was a dream - really, it must be a dream. The puzzle bothered her for a day and a half before she put in for her vacation. She simply must find out for herself. Why was a dream becoming reality. The thought of visiting England and Braunwythe Castle excited and intrigued her so much that she could talk of nothing else. Of course she couldn't tell of the dream she had as a child, her staff would think she was crazy, but she did talk constantly about going on her vacation to England. Even more intriguing was the thought that if Braunwythe Castle really did exist, then Lord Ranaulf was real also. She had thought of him often in the past ten years. He didn't have a name in her imaginings, but he was there. She'd thought he was her dream ideal. His name had just come to her in the last couple of days with the intense concentration on Braunwythe. Her dream crush had made it difficult for any other man to measure up to him. Heather had a hard time finding a man that could live up to the standards she had unconsciously set to match Ranie. This one had the athletic form and talent, but sports was the only thing he cared about. Another would have a sharp mind, but a cold calculating heart. Then there was the one who cared deeply for her and treated her royally, but she didn't want to be put on a pedestal. She rarely had a relationship last for more than a few dates. It had all started with that dream. Mother had told her that the old tree was off limits. The gnarled limbs and the sheer massive size of it drew her -- and every other child in the little town. It had become a dare, to climb the tree and be able to tell of it. The children all thought it haunted. The adults all knew that the center of the tree was rotted away and it's huge trunk and branches hid a great weakness. Nevertheless, Heather went to the out-skirts of town to meet the challenge of the tree. Heather, who always followed rules and very rarely disobeyed the wishes of her parents was not thought to be any where near the old tree, just missing. As a result, no one immediately looked for her at the tree. She was told later that she had spent the night on the ground under the tree and it was late afternoon before she was found. The only strange part of the search for Heather was that old Mr. Martin had been near the tree that morning she was found and saw nothing. He even swore that his dog had sniffed around in the very spot and no one was there. But Mr. Martin was 82 years old and it was thought that he was probably imagining things. It was assumed that he had just thought he had taken his walk near the old tree and actually he was in some other area. The tree was magnificent. It's branches spread far from the trunk of the tree. There could be a dozen tree houses made within it's canopy. She stood in awe of it's regal bearing. It moved gracefully in the breeze, it seemed to take notice of her approach, the branches enveloping her and making a shelter from the outside. Her face turned toward the branches, she turned slowly around, then walked in a pinwheel fashion toward the center. The niches were there, natural depressions in the trunk, they appeared to be placed there for hand and foot holds. Her face ever upward, she began the ascent of the king of all trees. Higher and higher, nothing blocked her way. The tree's smaller branches seemed to turn aside to allow her to pass. The large branches made perfect pathways, wide enough to walk upon comfortably. Then, a wrong step and she was falling. She heard the branch break, and she felt herself going downward, but there was no pain. The leaves of the tree were like gentle hands slowing her fall, it was as if she were being passed from one set of soft arms to another, until she hit the earth. Then her breath left her and there was blackness. She heard the sounds and voices before she was able to open her eyes. She felt the ground tremble with the horse's hooves and knew it was near. Then she heard the man's voice. He had a very strange accent, some words she didn't even recognize. "Robbie! Come 'ere an' see." "Aye, M'lord." She heard and felt the presence of another near her. "Tis a wee lass, M'lord." "Livin' or nay?" She felt something very near her face. Yet, she still could not move, open her eyes or speak. "She breathes M'lord." Then the sound of leather and the clink of metal. Gentle hands stroked her forehead and lifted her shoulders off the ground. She was being carried. Lord Ranaulf was at a loss as to what to do with this urchin. Lying unconscious in the middle of a field of heather, she surely must belong somewhere. A pretty little thing, probably no more than ten or twelve, he observed. Her white-blond ringlets had loosened from the silk ribbon still clinging to a curl. Her coverings puzzled him. Pants of a sturdy unknown material that fit very snugly and a light top with a print of flowers. What land could produce such clothing? Well, the Lady Elaine would solve this problem, he need not worry himself about the origins of this girl. The ride was long to Braunwythe. Ranaulf enjoyed holding this small girl that was obviously in need of his protection. He had wanted brothers and sisters, but after the death of his mother, his father had remarried Lady Elaine, and he knew it was not to be. The Lady Elaine had made it clear that she would not be bothered by the birthing of children for the elder Lord of Braunwythe she'd had one child from a previous marriage and stated plainly that one was enough. Perhaps, dare he hope, this little one could become a ward of Braunwythe and he her protector. He was eighteen now, certainly old enough to take on the care of someone. His father was so ill and he had the constant feeling that he was in the way of Lady Elaine. He needed someone to care for, someone that would need him. She was aware of her surroundings, yet still unable to wake up or speak. The most she could manage was a moan and lately she was able to move her head from side to side, although it hurt terribly. The bed was wonderfully soft and seemed to hold her. There were odd smells. That of smoke and a faint hint of mustiness. The voices were strange and some of them frightened her. But not the voice belonging to the one they called Ranaulf. She calmed at his voice and felt at peace. He came to her and spoke to her as if she were awake. He had named her Heather because he had found her in the heather fields. That sounded right to her. She didn't remember her name or really anything about herself, except that she was not supposed to be here. She slept off and on, she didn't know how long. Then, just as she had tried every time she was awake, she opened her eyes. This time they obeyed her and truly opened. She was alone in the room. The walls were stone, covered with big rugs that had pictures on them. There was a large fireplace on one wall and a simple wooden table and matching chairs next to it. Her comfortable bed was huge. She could stretch out her arms and there was still at least two feet on either side. It was so high above the floor that there was a step stool next to it. The tall posters were canopied with white and mattress had soft linen sheets and a fur covering on top. There was also nicely upholstered furniture at the other end of the large room. Voices drew her attention to the heavy wooden door. "Ah dunna wa' 'er in th'ouse." Lady Elaine had spoken in a low voice -- just in case. Heather watched them approach. The serving girl curtsied her 'Aye, ma'am.' then gasped when she saw Heather's eyes upon her. "Hello." Heather had raised herself to her elbows The servant ran from the room at the swish of Lady Elaine's hand. "Ye've wakened, then." She walked slowly toward the bedside. Heather thought she was beautiful. Auburn hair bound in silver netting, tall and slim, the light blue shift complimented her eyes, and the silver belt showed off her small waist. Her face, though lovely, held a menace that frightened Heather and she sank back into the down filled mattress. "Y' needn't be a-frightened ov me, m'dearie." The voice was soothing but the face was cold, as if chiselled from ice. "I'm...I'm not scared." Heather sat up a bit. "You're Lady Elaine, aren't you." "Ah am." an eyebrow raised, "Ye've 'eard a lot in yer sleep, 'ave ye not?" Voices and a loud commotion nearing the door caused Lady Elaine to back up a step, an unreadable veil falling over her face. Heather recognized the voice and a wide smile appeared. "Ye 'ave awakened, me lit'le 'eather." Ranaulf paused at the door then strode forward. He took her hand in his, "'an yer as bonnie as Ah've ever thought ye would be." Heather liked the way he looked. She had always felt comfort when she heard his voice, and now to see his face...he was cute. "Ere ye hungry, lit'le 'eather?" At her excited nod, Ranaulf turned and nodded his head once, sending the servant out at a rapid walk. "Yer t'ave anythin' ye want. We've 'ad some clothes made fer ye. Lady Elaine did the measurin' of ye, but I picked the frocks meself." Another servant opened a chest and drew out the most lovely shifts Heather thought she had ever seen. Of fine soft silk and linen, belts and ornaments of gold and sparkling gems. "Oh!" Heather reached and touched one. It slid through her fingers like water. The color was a deep red and the ornaments were encrusted with rubies. "Oh!" The covers fell and she was on her knees, holding it to her. Ranaulf was pleased with her joy. He was man enough to run Braunwythe during his father's seemingly endless, and puzzling illness; he could order anything and see that the order was carried out. Yet, he was still young enough to take pleasure in dressing a new toy. He would like to keep her as his sister, a brother would have been better, but Heather would do. "Out! All ov ye, git out! Let th' child dress." Lady Elaine shooed everyone out the door. Heather was alone with the chest of clothes and the servant. She was now at a loss as to what to do. Although the clothes were beautiful, she really didn't know how to put them on. "We've bathed ye ever day, miss. An rubbed yer arms an legs sos ye won't git stiffened up, y'know." "How long did I lay there?" "Two days, miss. Lord Ranaulf brung ye 'ere on the Sabbath, two day ago." "What happened to me?" "Ah dunno, miss. Lord Ranaulf an Robbie found ye out in th' heather, brung ye 'ere, an ye in th' strangest coverin's ah ever did see." "What happened to them? My clothes." "Ah dunno, miss. Lord Ranaulf an the Lady Elaine took 'em off, surenough they burnt 'em. Strange they war. Strange." Molly shook her head then turned Heather around to check over her work. Satisfied with the dressing of her, Molly sat her down and began untangling the mass of unruly curls. She made a single braid, intertwining the silky white hair with a light chain of gold, it hung down to Heather's shoulder blades. She slipped on the soft kid slippers and headed for the door. "They'll be a-comin' wi' the food in a moment, miss." "Oh, I'd rather eat with everyone else. Would that be okay?" she hesitated at the door, not wanting to do anything inappropriate. "Aye, miss." Molly curtsied. "Lord Ranaulf 'as tol us tha' ye are t'ave anythin' ye want. Ah'll show ye th' way, miss." Heather thought, this must be what it feels like to be a princess. This was surely a castle, and Ranaulf was the handsome prince. The clothes were more beautiful than any she had ever had, she was sure, and she didn't know how she knew, but she knew she had never worn rubies before.

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