Foery MacDonell's Page

The first week at Lingpori had passed slowly. Jean-Philippe was not used to the rigid hours that the lamas kept and it had taken a few days to adjust to them. Rinpoche had not insisted that he try to keep up with all of the Lamasery’s activities. Instead, Rinpoche gradually eased him into the routine by adding more to it each day. Jean-Philippe was grateful for Rinpoche’s consideration. The journey from Nepal had taken its toll on his body and he greatly needed the rest.

During that time of res… Continue

At the top of the stairs Catherine began to feel dizzy. It lasted for just a second and she assumed it was from lack of sleep combined with the brandy. As she started down the hallway toward Arthur’s room, she grew dizzy again and weak in the knees. Now her vision was distorted. Everything was slightly out of focus and she ran her hand along the wall
to keep her balance.

Where am I going? she thought, her mind suddenly fuzzy and forgetful. Oh yes, Arthur’s room, she recalled. His medicine…
She… Continue

"Ah, Carrick," Morag soothed him as she stroked his auburn hair. "Ye ken the runes ha' rarely failed me. And poor Molly is worried sick for ye. 'Tis true I ken the tale of yer loss and yer sorrows. Now ye come to see if I can ease yer pain as I did when ye were young and I was nanny to ye all."

She gestured toward the sack of stones. "Aye, the runes ha= spoken to me, and I ken it well. How ye fought at Culloden Moor and saved many of yer clan. How the Sassenach butchered ye all and gave no quar… Continue

Catherine stood wondering who the other two guests might be when she a sound from outside the french doors at the other end of the room broke the silence. The doors seemed to lead out to the garden and for a moment, Catherine caught her breath.

The doors flew open, revealing a tall and quite handsome man looking a bit startled at Catherine’s presence.

“Why, Lady Bramwell, we meet again!” he said with a smile. It was the same man Catherine had seen outside the pub earlier that day. He was weari… Continue

Catherine made her way down the plank and onto the dock, her eyes eagerly searching for someone who might be there for her. Perhaps the letter didn’t get to Cecile after all, she thought, refusing to panic. Better walk on a little further.

“Miss Catherine?” It was a tall black man who caught her attention. “You Miss Catherine? You comin’ to see Miss Cecile?”

“Yes, I’m Catherine Bramwell,” she answered looking up into the man’s enormous face. He had beautiful round eyes and a friendly grin.

“I… Continue