The Missing Moira ( open to everyone)

[jamie]

It had been many days since the Laird had heard from his beloved Moira. Where was she? Was she hurt someplace? Did someone kidnap her? God help anyone if someone took her, because there would be a death coming down. Moira was unlike anyone woman he'd ever met She had a gentle soul and a heart that had a place for everyone it loved. [/b]


=- He paced back and forth, getting more and more angry. Where in hell was she? She was not at her home or anywhere else. She had simply vanished. His knuckles were turning white, his eyes were a smoldering grey now instead of blue. Even Brynna had not seen her. That was enough, he walked out of his home towards the stables to his horse - Devereau. He'd go out looking for her. Opening the door there was a note tacked on it. Tearing it open, he read it and his anger exploded inta a rage no one could stop. A MacDonald had kidnapped his beloved!! " It's damned blasphemy! The note read:


Macrae,
We have your little lassie, she is quite good at what she does.
If ye wants her back alive -- pay us 10,000 pounds in two days time. We will be at the docks. DON'T BE LATE!! OR SHE DIES!!


=- Saddling his horse, they took off like the wind. He would find her before he'd pay them anything. To hold her in his arms would soothe his ravaged soul. By the Gods he would find her if it took the rest of his life. She was everything to him. They rode most of the day without any success. Gritting his teeth, he would have to
pay those bast****.He would return home and drink the better part of a bottle of 100 year old cognac in his office and worry about his beloved. He would dash off a note ta Lady Bess and have it delivered by messenger. All he could think of was Moira, the love of his life. =-

[Lady Eirian Gwenyth Apollius]

Eirian leaned against the wall, seeming to notice nothing but heard all. She never thought the words of the Grand Dame Obray, her nemesis and tutor in the ways of court, would ever have an impact on a moment. Oh, the woman's skirts could almost be heard rustling stiff near by. The dragging gown hems always sounded along with the hard step of her feet like they were clicking talons on stone. Her steel streaked brown hair was confined in a tight coil, always pinned with a comb. A veil hung, attached, concealing it under black silk. "A woman should be quick to hear, girl, and slow to speak. No man will take a woman that chatters too much, or proves to know more, do more, or is more conceited than a man. But, more valuable still, Eirian, is that a woman hears. What she hears could change the course of everything from one day to a whole government. "

While the chamber maids were stripping the beds of the old sheets for the laundress, they talked openly. Stone walls had ears, one set were Welsh and open, " Do you see it all around? I do, mark my words. It's a shame but the kidnappings will not bode well for the Dutchy. Oh no, it will make a short reign if they think the people can't be kept safe." One spoke as she tossed the dirty linen into her basket. The other was going about beating the pillows, leaving them near the windows to air, "The Lady Buchanan! The men be stretched thin. Well, the one I sport with, ye know..." she chuckled, coy and arrogant," he says that the General is not letting them take much rest! Why with the arrests to be made, the women to look for....they feel like chattle! Oh it is a real pity but he seems to need m'breasts more at the end of the day.

The resources were stretched thin, and tensions were mounting. Eirian walked on to change posistion while a page bowed to her, "High Lady Artisan." It looked like she was heading toward a lesson, a project, or some affair that concencerned her station. In truth, the clever woman had merely altered her posistion in the hall to acquire more information, cleverly arranging her hair, sighing at the appereance of some such nevermind thing. " That farm girl....oh her she'll probably just end up in a ditch somewhere. You know, they'll focus all the energy on the other one. Money means who gets found first, I think!"

Eirian had heard enough. Turning the corner at last, she made a path down to the stables. "Saddle my horse," she instructed the stable keep, "And call for my escort, there is little time, hurry!" The Halls would soon be a'tizzy with the work of the Artisan as she gathered what news she could of the times in order to make a report to their Graces, to Adam and Bess. They would always be that to her, and Lady Buchanan would be only Moira. Where had they taken her friend, and why? In the wake of the wedding celebrations and talk of betrothals the criminals were becoming desperate. [/color][/font][/font]