Saving Grace Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Saving Grace

  Dedication

  Author’s Note

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Epilogue

  The Complete Wardrobe Series

  Other Books by Candee Fick

  About the Author

  Saving Grace

  Within the Castle Gates – Book Five

  By

  Candee Fick

  SAVING GRACE by Candee Fick

  Copyright © 2022 by Candee Fick

  Excerpts taken from Dance Over Me by Candee Fick, copyright 2016; Stepping Into the Light by Candee Fick, copyright 2019; To Win Her Heart by Candee Fick, copyright 2019; The Lost Heir by Candee Fick, copyright 2020; and Finding Home by Candee Fick, copyright 2021.

  For more information on this book or its author, visit: https://www.candeefick.com.

  All rights reserved. Noncommercial interests may reproduce portions of this book without the express written permission of Candee Fick, provided the text does not exceed 500 words.

  When reproducing text from this book, include the following credit line: “Saving Grace by Candee Fick. Used by permission.”

  Commercial interests: No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means—electronic, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of the publisher, except as provided by the United States of America copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are all products of the author’s imagination or are used for fictional purposes. Any mentioned brand names, places, and trademarks remain the property of their respective owners, bear no association with the author or the publisher, and are used for fictional purposes only.

  Dedication

  To Megan Menard

  Thanks for letting me tag along on the Great Write trip to Glen Eyrie castle and then inviting me back as a co-leader again and again.

  You’re an inspiration to young writers everywhere and I’m blessed to call you friend.

  Be part of my family of readers and get a FREE book? Click here to join.

  Author’s Note

  Before you embark on this adventure, there’s a little something you need to know...

  Once upon a time, I spent the night in a gorgeous room at the top of a tower at Glen Eyrie castle. Actually, it was several nights. And on several different occasions in various other rooms in the castle while helping groups of young writers brainstorm and polish their own stories.

  While there, the nuggets of ideas I had bouncing around in my head grew until I had a fully developed story (and series) of my own. I embraced the castle theme, not only for the history-loving heroine you’re about to meet but also for the books she liked to read. And I adored the idea of a girl living in a fairy tale world but not having a fairy tale life...until she does.

  The castle inside this book, its history, and its current use are very real. In fact, Glen Eyrie is just one of several castles located in Colorado. The descriptions of the buildings and grounds are mine from personal experience on the grounds.

  ...but then creativity took over as—like other stories I’ve written—I imagined what might happen if...

  Prologue

  “Will you marry me?”

  For the second time in minutes, there were not enough words to express her heart. But only one was needed. “Yes.”

  His answering gaze heated, and he lowered his smiling lips to hers.

  And then no words were needed at all.

  GRACE THOMPSON CLOSED the book and hugged it to her chest. How she loved happy endings. Then again, what fifteen-year-old girl didn’t?

  She snuggled deeper into her favorite chair in the loft, soothed by the murmured voices of her parents through the adjacent door. Somewhere downstairs in the bunk room, her younger brothers were likely swapping gross jokes with the Howard boys and plotting their next adventure while Mrs. Howard rocked the baby to sleep in the master bedroom.

  Once Mr. Howard arrived in the morning after a last-minute business meeting, their annual Spring Break vacation to the Howards’ cabin would officially begin.

  A smile curved her lips.

  Her dad’s old college roommate and his clan were practically family and while other people might swarm to the beaches for suntans, she much preferred the mountains and if she were lucky, snowshoeing through the pines to reach majestic views. Followed by hot chocolate beside a crackling fire, then curling up under a soft blanket to read a book.

  If only the rest of her life could be this perfect.

  After a sudden yawn about unhinged her jaw, she rose to her feet, set her book on the small table, and blew out the candle. Time to join the Howards’ ten-year-old daughter on the pull-out sofa bed.

  The tip of the still-hot wick glowed in the dark, but did not cast enough light to prevent her from knocking her leg against the corner of the table while stumbling her way to the railing. Something fell from the impact but it was too dark in the shadowed loft to see clearly.

  Whatever it was, she’d have to pick it up in the morning.

  Grace rubbed the sore spot on her thigh, then shuffled her feet across the wooden floor until she reached the top step. Between her past familiarity and the dim light from the kitchen’s oven clock, she easily made her way down to the living room.

  Minutes later, she was in her pajamas with freshly brushed teeth and tucked in beside Charity’s warmth. As her eyes closed on the pillow, her mind drifted back to the story she’d just finished.

  One day, she hoped God would send her a dreamy hero of her own.

  Some time later, Grace awoke to a woman’s scream, then curled up in a violent coughing fit, vaguely aware of heat, smoke, and a crackling sound. Almost like a...

  Fire!

  She burst upright and blinked away the tears filling her stinging eyes. Bright light came from the back half of the cabin as flames consumed the loft and crawled down the walls leading to the other bedrooms.

  The loft where she’d sat just hours before reading by candlelight.

  When she knocked against the table, had she...? No. It was unthinkable.

  Another coughing fit stole her breath, then spurred her into action. She shook her bedmate awake, then ran toward the flames. “Mom! Dad!”

  She had one foot on the bottom step when the loft’s railing fell, breaking the top section of stairs loose in an explosion of sparks that cascaded down and ignited the rug beneath the dining table.

  Her path upward was officially blocked. As was her parents’ escape.

  With a sob, Grace covered her mouth with her arm, then pivoted toward the other bedrooms and the spreading inferno. Through the thick red-tinted smoke filling the hall, she thought she saw a shadowy figure in a doorway before it slammed shut. Mrs. Howard? But what about the—“Boys! Get up and break the window!” It was their only hope.

  She sucked in a deep breath to yell again, but the overheated air scorched her lungs.

  Dear God, please get them out!

  Driven backward by the intense heat, Grace tripped over a chair and fell to the floor where the air was a bit easier to breathe. But from her new position, she spotted the flames already licking across the ceiling as the fire found new fuel and gained momentum.

  There would be no saving the cabin with its thick beams and woo
d shingled roof.

  Guilt clawed at her chest. Was it her fault?

  Her parents didn’t deserve such a fiery fate...nor did her brothers or any of the others.

  She heard a keening wail behind her.

  The least she could do was rescue someone.

  Grace swallowed another sob, then crawled her way back toward the couch and the girl who was coughing hard enough to gag. What had those elementary school visits from firefighters said to do?

  “Come on, Cherry.” Grace forced the words out of a raw throat.

  With a shaky hand, she pulled the girl down to the floor, then grabbed a T-shirt from her overnight bag beside the couch. After wrapping it around Charity’s head to block even more of the smoke, she dragged the girl behind her toward the front door.

  Why was she so weak?

  Just feet from the exit, the roaring overhead was interrupted by an even-louder cracking sound. Some dormant reflex had Grace throwing her body over that of the girl, curling around her a moment before a crushing weight landed on her right shoulder, forcing the joint into an unnatural position. The agonizing impact was followed an instant later by searing pain and the scent of burning flesh and singed hair.

  A scream ripped from her lips.

  Beneath her, Cherry whimpered.

  They had to get out before it was too late. Grace grit her teeth and tried to push up against the weight, but it was too much and darkness crept in on the fringes of her vision.

  God, please...

  A blessed numbness spread around her shoulder, but the scalding continued down her arm and across her back as the sizzling from the burning beam echoed too close to her ear.

  “Help!” The shouted plea hurt her already-damaged throat.

  And then...

  “Someone’s inside!” A deep voice on the other side of the door sparked hope to life. “Call for help.”

  “Andy!” Another slightly-slurred voice joined the first. “You can’t go in there.”

  “I have to.”

  The door opened and although the fresh oxygen fueled the flames, it cleared enough of the smoke that she was able to draw a fresh breath. She blinked through tear-filled eyes to see a large back-lit silhouette an instant before a flashlight blinded her vision.

  “Help...” Her throat spasmed.

  The flashlight landed near her face and then a hand touched her head. “I’ve got you.”

  “Save her.” Her strength was failing, but at least the girl crying and wiggling in her arms had a fighting chance now.

  Their rescuer gasped. “There’s two of them.”

  The weight on her body lifted slightly, then the man—Andy—hissed as if he’d burned himself before the beam settled back into place, forcing the breath from her lungs.

  Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death...

  “Dear Jesus... Help us...”

  “You did your part, now let me do mine.” She was vaguely aware of him whipping off his shirt and wrapping his hands in the fabric. “When I lift, can you try to crawl forward?”

  She nodded. Time was running out and they only had one chance.

  God, give me strength...

  She drew her legs up, bare toes catching on the rough floor and bracing to push them toward freedom.

  He counted down from three, then after a grunt, the weight on her back shifted again.

  This time, she let the adrenaline flooding her veins empower a final surge as she scrambled toward the door, dragging Charity along with her.

  Moments later, she was lifted in strong arms and carried into the dark night.

  “You’re safe now.”

  And then the world went black.

  Chapter One

  ~Medieval Scottish Highlands

  Evan finally made eye contact with the lass, surprised by the mixture of fear and fierce determination in their violet-blue depths.

  She was a woman of striking beauty. Not at all like any Maggie he’d ever known before.

  But up close, he also had an unobstructed view of the horrifying scar running from the hairline above her right ear down beside her mouth all the way to her neck where a thinner line marred her flesh.

  Used to seeing his battle-scarred clansmen, it was easy to recognize the clean slice of a dagger, but also the evidence of an inexperienced healer. How could such an injury have happened and what pain had she endured during the recovery?

  Curiosity warred with the reminder of the two girls hiding in the bench beneath him. He pulled his gaze from her injury back to her eyes. While obviously uncomfortable under his scrutiny, she yet waited for his agreement.

  His nod sealed his fate.

  She bobbed her head once in response, then turned to fetch a pitcher of more ale. After refilling their cups, she spoke with a few of the villagers as if this were a typical noon meal. The only sign of her distress was a slight crack in her voice.

  Less than a minute later, Evan heard the sound of galloping horses outside. Moments passed before the door burst open and two dark-haired men with red shirts beneath their Gunn plaids shoved inside, filling the door with their broad shoulders.

  The tables of saffron-shirted village men fell silent and stared. Based on a few nervous glances and his memories of the earlier conversations, the distinctively-clad newcomers must be the wicked Isla’s henchmen. Obviously they’d been hired for their brawn. And the weapons strapped to their backs made it clear resistance was futile.

  Maggie stepped forward to greet them but kept her head bowed like expected of a humble serving girl in the presence of her betters. “If’n ye’re looking for a meal, we’ve got fresh meat pasties and a hearty stew. Ye—”

  “Nay.” One of the men scanned the room, pointing his slightly crooked nose into everyone’s business. Then ignoring the room full of men, he turned his attention to the lass before him. “We’re here about two lassies last seen running this direction.”

  His friend grinned, exposing a missing tooth. “We’re to escort them to the castle so they can prepare for the marriage selection.”

  While Evan sensed the undercurrent of tension in the room, Maggie merely shrugged. “Could they have run home to gather their belongings?”

  Evan bit back a smile at her words. It wasn’t technically a lie.

  She stepped closer and lifted her head to face them. “Should I pack a bag too? Maybe a Sinclair would pick me as a bride.”

  Her words and appearance shocked both soldiers into a moment of surprised silence. And seemed to distract them from their search.

  ‘Twas a brave act, but he spotted the trembling in the hands clasped at her waist.

  The two invaders quickly recovered as another red-shirted man entered behind them.

  Crooked Nose waved a hand at Maggie’s face. “Don’t bother with this one. She’s useless.”

  The toothless one nudged his friend in the ribs. “I can think of a use fer the hag...if’n I close my eyes.”

  Evan’s stomach churned at their cruel words and his hands began to curl into fists beneath the tabletop. He should step forward to do something, just like before when the man had pulled her onto his lap.

  And yet, here he sat. Useless.

  “What are ye’ two blatherin’ about?” The third soldier pushed around his friends, then visibly blanched at the sight of Maggie’s face.

  The lass appeared equally shocked to see the newcomer, then lifted her chin further and glared back at all three men. “I thought all the maidens were being invited. Or is it only the pretty ones who get the honor?”

  The third man looked at his friends, his frown accentuating the small scar above his left eyebrow. “Ye’re right. This one’s not wanted at the castle.”

  ~LATE JANUARY, EIGHT years later

  Not wanted.

  Grace winced as the cruel words of the story came to life too vividly. Probably because she’d heard something similar in a classroom just two days ago. It shouldn’t have affected her...and yet it always did.


  She knew firsthand about hideous scars, but how could the book’s heroine be so strong? Was it because she was protecting others? Was that the secret to bravery while simultaneously being judged unfairly?

  Maybe she should read a different book for awhile and then come back to this one when the wounds weren’t as fresh.

  She closed the reading app and set her phone aside before scooping another bite of her homemade honey-sweetened granola.

  A minute later, her once-upon-a-time guardian “Uncle” John Howard entered the kitchen with his daughter on his heels. One headed straight for the coffee pot while the other detoured to the pantry for a toaster pastry. Just like every other weekday.

  Grace chuckled when Cherry ripped open the package then moaned around a huge bite of artificially-flavored preservative-packed pseudo-breakfast food. “What will your future nursing instructors have to say about your horrid eating habits?”

  Cherry swallowed, then rolled her eyes. “Don’t know. Don’t care. At least not yet.” She flipped her blonde curls over her shoulder. “For now, I’m just a stereotypical high school cheerleader.”

  “As if.” Grace shook her head. Add in student council plus top grades in her honors classes and while she might be somewhat spoiled at home, the eighteen-year-old senior was anything but typical.

  Especially after the tragedies they’d had to overcome.

  Grace hadn’t fared as well in school, but then again, frequent hospitalizations had made attendance difficult and pain management had been a higher priority than homework. At least until she’d reached college.

  “If you’re the stereotypical cheerleader, what does that make me? The absent workaholic father?” Uncle John struck a pose with one hand over the silk tie lying in the middle of his starched dress shirt. Between the coffee cup in his other hand and the open briefcase on the countertop, the description fit. Almost.

  “Nope.” Cherry giggled. “You’re more like a helicopter mom, always there.”