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“This tastes a lot better than our breakfast,” Callum noted as he took the last bite of his stew and finished off the rest of the ale in his tankard.
“Aye, it does.” Muir lifted his own cup and finished off the contents, then set his cup back down and wiped his mouth with his sleeve.
The rest of the men sat around on benches or the ground beneath a tree, eating and drinking as well. They were talking jovially amongst themselves as they waited the return of their laird.
“What do ye think the lass has gotten into whilst we have been away?”
Muir shrugged. “I heard the laird tell her ta clean the castle.”
“Och, I do not envy the lass that task.”
“Me neither,” said Muir.
“Do ye think she is hungry?”
“Nay, there was plenty of the rotten breakfast left. She can eat that if she gets too hungry.”
Callum made a face at the mention of their terrible breakfast. “Mayhap we should bring her some stew?”
“Ye can give her yers,” he said. “I already ate mine.”
“Aye, I did too,” Callum said, eyeing his now empty bowl.
CHAPTER TEN
LOCH MORAR, SCOTLAND
Sometime during the reign of King James
The sun had faded into the horizon and fat bellied clouds pressed down from the skies above when Gavin finally stepped back out of the pub. Feeling no pain as he was well into his cups, he grasped the door. Unsteady on his feet, he made his way over to his horse.
Standing, his men handed back the tankards and the bowls from the stew they were fed and then remounted their own horses one by one, reining them around.
“Thank ye Shamus,” Gavin said. “I will not forget the generosity ye have shown me and my men.”
“I will expect ye ta pay me back with interest when ye find this elusive treasure, aye?”
“Aye, I give ye my word.” Gavin swung up into his saddle. His horse danced sideways ready to be on his way.
“See that ye stick ta it,” Shamus called out.
“Aye, I will,” he promised.
Once his men said their farewells to all of Shamus’ daughters who were enthusiastically waving, he reined his horse around.
They had a goodly amount of food that would stave off their hunger for a bit longer. He only hoped the lass knew how to cook it. Luckily, a few of his men were busy while he was talking with Shamus and had somehow gotten two rabbits to add to their bounty along with a chicken.
Fat droplets of rain splattered down from the heavens above as they drunkenly headed back towards the castle.
One highlander slipped away from the rest and made his way back toward the tavern.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
LOCH MORAR, SCOTLAND
Sometime during the reign of King James
With the heavy clouds pressing down and with the sun now being gone, it was almost completely dark.
“Please don’t rain.” Paige wasn’t too keen on storms and she was hoping against hope the storm would pass but she wasn’t to be that lucky.
One fat drop landed on her head, then two, and then a bucket of drops rained down on her, forcing her back inside the castle into the dim hall.
Shadows stretched across the room, and the fire was almost out. She stood in the doorway watching the rain bounce down on the ground and create small rivers in the dirt. Pitchforks of lighting streaked down from the sky and the Earth shook as the thunder rolled. The wind picked up, pushing the heavy sheets of rain inside from the torrential downpour, until she finally had to shut herself inside the castle. Shaking off the rain, she made her way to the fireplace, bent down, and tossed on a few more logs. The flames licked up the sides of the wood, and burned brightly once more. Standing, she wiped her hands on her gown and pulled a chair over in front of the fire, then another one to prop her feet on.
Once again, she had the feeling someone was watching her. As her heart broke into a gallop, she slowly turned to look over her shoulder but all the greeted her was shadows from the flames shifting across the now clean floor. Rubbing her arms, she leaned back into the chair and stared into the fire as she tried to figure out what she was going to do.
Paige was tired and even though she had a rather delectable Highlander to look at, she knew at some point, she would need to get the hell outta dodge, but how?
Now, that was the million-dollar question.
There had to be a way though.
The damned lying gypsy made her way out of here and tricked Paige into coming here in her place. Was it some kind of witchery, or was some other magical conduit used?
Sure, she was reaching, but what else was there to consider? She didn’t know.
The warmth from the fire, along with exhaustion from cleaning all day, had her eyes drifting closed. Every so often, she would jerk awake when another spike of lightening lit up the room or a roll of thunder shook the castle.
“Where are they?” She gathered her arms around herself and hunkered down more in the chair.
Her eyes had just drifted shut once more when she heard a scratching sound. Jerking upright, she dropped her feet from the chair and spun around. Her skin prickled but she didn’t see anything.
God, she hoped it wasn’t a rat. Or worse, some other God-awful thing she had no knowledge of from the past.
“Just your imagination, Paige,” she said trying to calm her growing unease and stop her rampant fear from gaining momentum.
Lifting her feet once again, she propped them up on the chair. She had nearly convinced herself she was imagining the noise when she heard it again. This time she was sure it was coming from the door.
Jumping from the chair, she warily made her way across the room, and pressed her ear against the rough wood.
Again, she heard the scratching sound.
Stupidity reared its ugly head and she did something she would never do at home if she heard a noise outside her door.
She grasped hold of the handle, telling herself that she would only take a peek. Maybe her Highlanders had forgotten their keys. She snorted in derision as a bubble of hysteria broke from her throat. There was no lock on the door, so there would be no need for a key, the sane part of her mind ranted. Still, she pulled open the door and immediately screamed.
CHAPTER TWELVE
LOCH MORAR, SCOTLAND
Sometime during the reign of King James
The mangy dog from earlier unceremoniously shoved his way through the door and bounded past Paige in a dripping ball of fur into the hall. Removing her trembling hand from her chest, she shut the door.
The dog shook his body and splattered water all over the floor she had tried so hard to clean.
“Nice doggy.” She took a step forward with her hand outstretched to pat its massive head, glad to have some company.
Instead of wagging its tail, happy that she saved him from the storm, he got into a defensive stance and bared its teeth at her, growling low in its throat. What was left of the fur rose up into hackles on its back.
Of course, it couldn’t be a nice little dog that she let in.
No, instead, it was a massive pony sized one.
Once again, her heartbeat broke into a gallop that soon turned into a dead run as the dog closed the space between them.
Taking a tentative step back, she kept her gaze on the dog, heading slowly for the stairs. She knew if she broke into a run, he would attack. She had watched enough survival shows to know that much. Lot of good it did her though, because she usually got bored and turned off the television before she found out how the people got away.
Each step she took backward… the dog took a step forward.
Paige tried to control her breathing, she didn’t want it to sense her fear, but damn, how did one not act terrified of a dog that could easily rip a person in two with just one snap from its mouth that was filled with rather sharp gruesome teeth.
Maybe it’s giving you some payback for trying to feed it
your ‘Oatmeal Surprise’ her sick mind chided as she took another step backward. She was now on the stairs, but she could tell the dog was growing impatient. It may have had something to do with the fact that it was growling even more with each step she took as she tried to distance herself from him.
“Nice doggy,” she said again, trying to keep her voice level and calm as she took another step upward.
She wished she had something to throw, to distract him, like a steak or a bone, but of course, she had none of those things.
Then she remembered… she did have shoes—didn’t dogs like eating shoes?
She couldn’t remember. But it would work, she thought, or she hoped that it would.
Slowly reaching down, she grabbed hold of one of her shoes, and pulled.
The dog took two steps forward as she fought to release her damn shoe—it finally gave but her time was up.
The dog poised for attack.
“Fetch,” she yelled as loud as her constricted throat would allow and threw the shoe as hard as she could. Her shoe crashed against the far wall with a resounding thwap.
The dog emitted a fierce growl and swung its head in the direction she threw her shoe.
Paige didn’t wait to find out if he was going to chase after it. She turned and took off up the stairs.
She could hear the dog spinning around on the stone trying to gain traction with its nails as she sprinted like a seasoned athlete with her skirts held high and only one shoe on her foot down the dark corridor to his room.
As the barking grew in volume, Paige slowed enough to duck inside the room—she could feel that dog, and knew he was just inches away from gaining on her. If she didn’t hurry she knew she was done for.
By the grace of God, she slammed the door shut as the dog slid into it, barking, and scratching the wood with its paws.
In the distance, she could swear she heard cackling laughter that sounded a lot like the gypsy that sent her here, but that wasn’t possible. Must be hearing things, she thought.
Heart pounding, she brought the bolt home and pressed herself against the wood, trying to get her breathing under control.
The dog started whining and scratching the door.
“Shut the hell up,” she railed, clearly having lost the tenuous hold on what was left of her control.
The dog whimpered one last time and then miraculously shut up. It sounded as though it had left but she didn’t care. There was no way in hell she was going to leave the safety of this room, no matter what.
On cue, her belly grumbled. Reminding her, that she hadn’t eaten anything since the gross ‘Oatmeal Surprise’ she made.
“Well, too damn bad,” she told her growling stomach. “You will just have to starve.
Crossing over to the fireplace, she bent down and put some more logs on the dying embers, trying to coax the fire back to life.
Pressing her hands into her lower back, she stood once more and walked over to the screen in the corner. This too, looked out of place.
Too tired to examine it fully, she decided to get cleaned up as best as she could. Walking behind the screen, she used the leftover water from the morning and washed up.
After she finished her spit bath, she decided a little snooping wouldn’t be out of order. Casually, she walked around the room and looked at his things. He had some paper on the table as well as an inkwell but nothing written down. Losing interest, she made her way to his chest and tried to open it, but it was locked.
“Dangit!” She kicked the trunk with her shoeless foot and was rewarded by a sharp pain shooting up through her big toe, which put an abrupt end to her snooping.
Not having anything else to do, she threw some more wood on the fire, paced the room a few times and then sat on the fur on the floor, thinking she should just go to sleep and maybe while she was asleep her Highlander, err, Highlanders, might return.
Lying down, she laid on top of the ratty fur and tried to get comfortable, but it was cold and the floor was hard.
Shivering, she sat up again. Looking over her shoulder, her eyes drifted to his rather large comfy looking bed.
“Why not,” she said.
Not seeing the harm in it, she stood up, walked across the room and pulled back the furs on top of his bed. She wasn’t even the least bit surprised to see he had very modern sheets on his bed as well as pillows. She sat down on the edge and bounced a few times.
“Wow.”
Compared to the scrap of filth he had her sleeping on the night before, it felt like she was in a bed at a five star hotel.
Making up her mind, she climbed from the bed and crossed over to the door. Carefully, she unhooked the latch. Another roll of thunder shook the room along with a flash of lighting. Her feet barely hit the floor as she ran back to the safety of his bed. Sitting back down, she kicked off her remaining shoe, torn sock and climbed under the furs to the point she was buried.
Besides making a little airhole for herself, she made sure no visible parts of her body was showing. Closing her eyes, she decided to get some much-needed sleep and since she was a light sleeper, when she heard him come back, she would get up before he even made it to his room, or so she told herself.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
LOCH MORAR, SCOTLAND
Sometime during the reign of King James
The ‘13’ Highlanders made their way back into the main hall of the castle. Each of the men were drenched and chilled to the bone.
“Put the supplies away in the larder and get some rest,” Gavin told his men as he made his way to the stairs.
“Och, why is the floor so wet?” asked Callum, sidestepping a rather large puddle in the middle of the room.
Muir shrugged. “At least it smells clean.”
“Aye, that it does,” said Alec, as he unhooked his plaid and laid it over the chair in front of the fire to dry.
“The lass may not be able to cook but she can obviously clean,” Graham noted as he twisted the length of his hair which released more water on the floor.
Gavin wiped the water from his face with his plaid, and looked around the hall, not believing his eyes. It was clean. Well, as clean as could be expected, he supposed. He also noticed the rushes were gone and decided very quickly that was not such a bad thing since it smelled a lot better now. Feeling a sense of urgency to see the lass, to make sure she was all right, or so he told himself, he took the stairs two at a time to his chamber.
At once, he noticed the dog curled up outside his door. The dog lifted his massive head and then seeing who was coming down the hall, dropped it back down to the floor. Gavin stepped around the dog, and opened his door. It scraped open against the stone barely making any sound this time. His eyes went to the place in front of the fire and his heart dropped at what he saw. She wasn’t here.
For some reason, unbeknownst to hi, his heart sped up. He tore out of his room, back down the stairs to the hall. A few of the men had yet to retire to their sleeping quarters. “Where is she?” he nearly yelled.
Callum started, stifling a yawn. “Who?”
“The lass?”
“Do ye suppose she left?”
“Why would she leave?” Gavin asked more to himself than the remaining men in the room.
“Mayhap, she didn’t want to clean for ye anymore,” Muir added helpfully.
Graham stood up from the chair. “Mayhap something happened to her?” He bent over and picked up a lone shoe. “Is this hers?”
Gavin’s belly twisted involuntarily at the sight. Why would her shoe be down here? Did she leave, just as Callum had said or did something happen to her. Irritated more with himself than his men, he made his way to the cook room. Reaching the doorway, he pulled up short. The place was clean as well, at least cleaner than he had ever seen it. Walking over to the door, he opened it and peered through the blackness of the night.
The wind howled and water pelted against his body and his face as he tried to see some sign as to where she may have gone. He saw a figu
re move out from under a pine tree and relief filled him, until he saw who it was.
“What are ye doing out here?” Gavin watched as Broderick stepped out from under the pine tree.
“I was tending to the horses and got turned around in the storm.”
Gavin merely nodded and pushed the door open wider so he could pass.
“Is something amiss?” Broderick asked.
“The lass, she is …” He couldn’t bring himself to say it. “Nothing.”
Not having any answers readily available, he shut the door against the wind and rain. Turning around, he made his way back to the great hall. After the long day and ride, not to mention the several tankards of ale he drank exhaustion was taking its toll, settling in against him. Barely able to keep his eyes open, he scrubbed his hands over his face and then dropped them to his sides. He hated to admit it, but he had been looking forward to seeing the lass, but apparently the feeling had not been mutual. Of course, he knew it was his fault. Had he been kinder, mayhap she would have wanted to stay, for a bit at least. He’d run off the other one, Jillian, in much the same way he supposed. He had thought she was different though. He’d thought…well, it didn’t matter anymore. She was gone now, just like Paige.
As he passed his men he ignored their questioning stares and made his way back to his chamber. An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of his stomach as he climbed the stairs and he decided it must have been from the stew he ate for there was no way the lass, one he barely knew, could make him feel thusly. Yes, it must have been something he ate souring his stomach. Not the lass. Or so he told himself.
Once inside his room, he brought the bolt home and undressed in front of the fire. He noticed the coals were still red as if someone had been tending it for most of the night but if the lass had truly left…a glimmer of hope filled him…he exhaled and shook his head.
Lost in the Highlands, Volume One Page 22
