The Highlander's Defiant Captive

by Anna Campbell

  Spoken the words which proclaimed her the woman of his choice and the Lady of Achnasheen.

  The devil with him. She wouldn't think about that. Not now when this was her only chance to get away. She'd go back to her father, prevent the Drummonds marching on this glen, make it clear she'd never marry her cousin.

  Perhaps in time, if the Mackinnon offered for her again…

  No, she couldn't think about that either. She turned to Sheena. "How did ye get up here? Is there no’ a guard?"

  "Aye, but Sel the Red's always had an eye for me. It was nae trouble getting him to let me past. And he's never liked the idea of a Drummond in a place of honor at Achnasheen."

  Mhairi tried not to think about what favors Sheena had shared with the man in order to coax him into betraying his laird. She vaguely remembered Sel the Red from the night the Mackinnon had hoisted her over his shoulder and carried her off like a prize of war.

  That brazen act alone should make her want to leave Achnasheen. But while her regret at leaving was stupid enough, stupidest of all was her guilt at playing Black Callum false. When she owed him nothing at all.

  Dear Lord, she was in a muddle. John was right. It was time she returned to Bruard and reminded herself of exactly who she was.

  "So are ye coming? Or has a Mackinnon crushed all the Drummond pride out of ye?" Sheena jeered.

  "Mhairi, dinnae do this," Flossie said desperately, scrambling to her feet.

  Mhairi squared her shoulders. She must go. If only to prove to herself that she was still the woman she'd been all her life. "Aye, I'll go."

  "Good." Sheena visibly relaxed, although she didn't smile. "Here. I brought ye some clothes and some boots. We’ve got miles to cover before we reach Drummond lands, and I need to be back in time to help with the baking. Nobody can ken I helped ye escape."

  "You're no’ coming all the way with me?" Mhairi tugged the rough linen blouse over her head and straightened it over her shift.

  "And do what? Make my home in the stinking Drummond keep? I’d rather die. I'll put ye on the road home and come back here. Once I’ve got ye safely off Mackinnon land, you're on your own."

  "Dinnae trust her, Mhairi," Flossie said, wringing her hands in distress as Mhairi fastened the threadbare plaid skirt with fumbling fingers.

  "I have to, Flossie," she said gently, sitting on the bed to pull on prickly woolen stockings and worn leather boots.

  Although of course she didn’t trust Sheena. But she had to get out of this castle. And quickly. Tonight had shown her that she was too close to betraying her kin. The air at Achnasheen was turning her mad. There had been moments when the thought of choosing Black Callum not only as her dance partner but as her partner for life had filled her heart with joy. When all her life she’d loathed the mere name Mackinnon.

  "Ye heard John. My father plans on sending an army to fetch me."

  "There’s no need to fear. Your father willnae put ye at risk. You're safe here."

  She was more worried about the folk she’d come to know at Achnasheen than she was about saving her own skin. Acerbic but good-hearted Jean. Duff. The people who had smiled at her tonight, despite her being a despised Drummond. Black Callum himself, much as she resented admitting it.

  Anyway, Flossie was wrong. Mhairi was anything but safe at Achnasheen.

  She'd arrived at the castle, hating her captor. Now she feared what she might become if she stayed. Last night she’d danced with Black Callum and her traitorous heart had longed for him to sweep her up to this tower room and kiss her until she forgot everything but the pleasure she found in his arms.

  "I must go, Flossie." She hoped her voice didn't sound as artificial to her maid as it did to her. She took a dreadful risk going with Sheena, but what choice did she have? Staying here made her doubt everything she’d ever believed to be true about herself. "Ye ken I must."

  Flossie folded her arms and looked stubborn. "I dinnae ken that at all, but I also ken it's a waste of time trying to argue ye out of a rash decision when you've set your course. Ye were always too headstrong for your own good."

  Mhairi sighed. "Flossie, let's no’ part in rancor. Heaven knows when we'll see each other again. Wish me well and say goodbye."

  She stood up. Her hair was plaited for bed. It would do for the wild race across the hills. There was no time to pin it up. Sheena was getting restless.

  "Can ye no’ hurry up?" she urged, confirming that impression.

  Flossie kept her gaze on Mhairi. "God go with ye, my lady, and keep ye safe."

  Mhairi made herself smile, although with every minute, it became harder to find the will to leave this room and go with Sheena. But she was a Drummond and she owed her family her first loyalty.

  "Thank you. And I wish ye every blessing."

  A brief hug before Sheena's hand fastened on her arm and tugged her away. "Nae more blethering. Let's go."

  "Farewell, Flossie."

  As she turned toward the door, she blinked back tears. She wasn't crying because she left her friend, but because tonight she’d teetered on the brink of something magical. Now she turned her back on that possibility and returned to her old life. Whatever wonders this last day had promised, they were forever lost to her.

  "God keep ye, mistress." Flossie, lucky girl, had no reason to hide that she was crying.

  ***

  Mhairi and Sheena rode higher and higher up the steep brae behind Achnasheen. Two sturdy ponies had waited for them, tethered outside the castle gate. Sel the Red had been useful indeed, it seemed. So close to midsummer, eerie twilight surrounded them.

  As Mhairi turned back to watch Achnasheen retreating behind her and transforming into a toy castle beside the shining loch, she said a silent prayer for the wellbeing of everyone within its walls. If her thoughts dwelled too long on one particular dark-haired ruffian, well, that was between her and her Maker.

  "We’re no’ heading east," she said when they paused on the ridge to catch their breath.

  Sheena cast her a look of dislike, but answered readily enough. "If we take the road out of the glen, it's too easy for the Mackinnon to catch up with us. This way winds across the hills and joins up with a drovers’ track that leads to Bruard."

  "I see." She bit back any other questions. She didn't want Sheena in a temper and abandoning her in this wilderness.

  But really she didn't see. Surely speed was more important at this stage than subterfuge. Yet they took this circuitous way north when Bruard lay in a direct line east from Achnasheen.

  They rode on for another hour, the early summer sun rising to light their way. The tracks became narrower and narrower. For the last twenty minutes, they'd followed a precipitous path along the face of a cliff.

  She and Sheena no longer rode side-by-side. There was no room to do anything but proceed single file. Mhairi was a good rider – Drummond weans were placed on a horse before they could walk – but even she couldn't contain a spurt of alarm every time a pebble fell down the hillside behind her on a seemingly endless plunge. If the stocky Highland ponies made the smallest misstep, disaster would follow.

  As they traveled, the thunder of a waterfall up ahead grew louder and louder. By the time they reached a flat ridge above the roaring cataract, the noise was so deafening, Sheena had to shout to make herself heard.

  "We'll rest the ponies here." She slid out of the saddle and came across to grab Mhairi's bridle.

  "When do we turn east?" Mhairi didn't move. "We're still heading north."

  "One more ridge to climb, and we'll reach the track I told ye about. I’ll turn back there. Ye can make your way home from there without my help."

  "Are ye leaving me the pony?"

  "Aye."

  Mhairi dismounted. It wasn't far to the ground, but after a couple of hours in the saddle, she was stiff. She stumbled and when she caught her balance she looked up to see Sheena holding a wicked-looking knife.

  Fear chilled every cell in her body, but she felt no real surprise. F
lossie was right. What a gullible fool she’d been to imagine Sheena meant to see her safely off Mackinnon lands.

  "What are ye playing at?" she asked sharply, although now it was too late to do anything about it, it was all too clear that Sheena meant her harm.

  "I'm making sure ye cause no more trouble," Sheena said coldly. "Step away from yon pony."

  The horse sidled and gave an uneasy wicker, picking up the tense atmosphere. Mhairi caught the rein and turned to jump into the saddle, but Sheena jerked forward and slashed at her arm. She cried out, and the pony bucked out of reach with a terrified whinny.

  Pain jolted Mhairi, as she faced Sheena more in disbelief than anger. "Ye mean to murder me in cold blood?"

  Sheena betrayed no shame at the stark question. Her eyes blazing with hatred, she stared at Mhairi. "I didnae murder ye. As far as the world is concerned, ye got out of the castle alone, took off across the hills, mistook your way, and ended up falling down the Mare's Tail to your death. How verra sad."

  The flatness of her tone as she spoke over the waterfall's roar was more chilling than if she'd ranted. Even more horrible, the story was plausible.

  Mhairi’s death would never be avenged. She'd never have justice. She’d never return to her home and kinfolk.

  She'd never see the Mackinnon again.

  It made no sense at all, but somehow that was the hardest loss of all to bear.

  "I willnae jump just because you're waving that bodkin at me, mistress."

  Her arm hurt like the devil and when she raised her hand to the cut, her fingers met hot, sticky blood. She didn't look down to check the damage. Some instinct warned her that if she broke eye contact with Sheena, the girl wouldn’t hesitate to shove her over the edge.

  "If ye willnae jump, I'll push ye." Sheena stepped closer, and Mhairi backed away until she recalled the fall behind her.

  "Ye can try."

  She edged around to create greater distance between her and the lip of the cliff, only to come to a trembling stop when Sheena’s knife slashed the air in front of her. Mhairi jerked back on knees that felt like wet wool.

  In the rosy dawn light, the blade was already stained red with her blood. The sight sent an icy shaft of panic through her.

  "Nae tricks."

  "Ye cannae imagine you’ll get away with this," Mhairi said, although the cruel truth was that it was highly likely that the girl would.

  "Only a few more inches, and you're done for," Sheena said in a gloating voice.

  "You're mad." Mhairi's heart pounded in great, panicked thumps, while alarm tightened her throat to the point of pain. She tasted bile in her mouth. "The Mackinnon willnae marry ye, even if I'm dead."

  It was difficult to talk. She was too aware of the cliff behind her. She shivered with dread. And the freezing spray from the Mare's Tail which soaked her blouse.

  "He'll want comforting, now he’s lost his Drummond whore. I'm grand at comforting a laddie."

  Sheena stepped closer but despite the knife poised mere inches from her ribs, Mhairi didn't budge. She was too close to falling.

  She braced to leap forward and snatch the blade from Sheena. The chances of success weren't great, but she refused to die like a whimpering coward.

  The point shifted forward and pressed into Mhairi’s sodden linen blouse. "It will be a quick death."

  "How verra kind," Mhairi said sarcastically and reached forward with both hands to grab Sheena's wrist.

  The girl's hand twisted under the attack, and the blade sliced the wet linen, scratching a long, stinging line across the skin of Mhairi’s stomach. She cried out and flung herself to the right, finding her balance after a few dizzying seconds. Even above the waterfall’s din, she heard stones clattering down the cliff behind her, dislodged by the reckless leap.

  Sheena was strong, and Mhairi was already injured. Fingers slippery with blood had trouble keeping a firm grip on the girl’s hand. Panting, Mhairi managed to drag Sheena closer to the edge. It wasn’t enough.

  Within seconds, Mhairi felt Sheena gain the advantage. This time, it was Mhairi who swayed above the void.

  Despair crashed down. All her defiance counted for nothing. She was going to die. And she wanted so much to live.

  She broke away from Sheena, although she was still too near the edge. Sheena lunged after her but slipped on the wet grass. The swipe of the knife went wild.

  Mhairi whirled around to flee. But hands as hard as steel shot out to grab her wounded arm. As agony lanced through her, she let out a cry. Stars blinded her.

  She heard the sharp crack of a gunshot.

  Suddenly she was free. She opened dazed eyes to see Sheena clutching at her shoulder. Blood blossomed red on her gray sleeve.

  Sheena reeled back on unsteady legs. “Rot in hell, ye Drummond bitch.”

  The girl staggered on the rim of the cliff. There was a sickening rattle of stones. Then with a long, jagged scream, she disappeared over the side.

  Chapter 18

  Callum spurred Kelpie into a gallop and dashed up to where Mhairi teetered on the lip of the cliff. He leaped from the saddle, flinging his empty flintlock to the ground. He lashed his arms around the wild-eyed girl, terrified she'd overbalance and follow Sheena onto the jagged rocks below.

  "Callum…" Mhairi said, sounding bewildered as he dragged her back from the dizzying edge. "What in heaven’s name are ye doing here?"

  It took him a few seconds to answer. He was still trapped in that appalling moment when the two girls wrestled on the brink of oblivion. He'd watched, sick with panic and helpless to take a shot while Mhairi and Sheena stood so close.

  "God’s blood, lass, you've taken twenty years off my life today," he groaned.

  He tightened his grip on her as she collapsed limp in his hold, hardly daring to believe that his lady was here with him and not lying crumpled at the bottom of the ravine. For one blessed moment, he felt her lean into him, then she gave a muffled whimper and tried to pull free.

  Of course she did. She hated him.

  Didn't today's escapade prove it? He’d feared for Mhairi in his vindictive kinswoman’s clutches, especially when he discovered they headed north instead of east. But he hadn’t understood that Sheena might have actual murder in mind until he'd drawn Kelpie to a halt near the waterfall and seen the desperate fight. At that moment, he'd realized if Bonny Mhairi Drummond died, he lost everything that made his life worth living.

  Now, definitely alive, praise all the angels, she smiled at him. It was a shaky effort, but he commended her courage in smiling at all.

  Her bright spirit had lured him from the first, hadn't it? He'd felt a natural masculine urge to possess the beauty, but her gallant heart had made him love her.

  "Where are ye hurt?" His voice was raw with the tattered remnants of his fear.

  "My arm."

  Gently he led her across to a flat boulder out of range of the waterfall spray. Mercifully it was quieter here, too.

  He went on his knees in front of her and drew his dirk to cut away the blood-soaked sleeve. Mhairi endured his ministrations with a stoic bravery that made him admire her all over again.

  Guilt seethed in his belly, along with gratitude and the effects of eviscerating fear. That wee bitch Sheena might have wielded the blade today, but the final blame for Mhairi’s stabbing lay with him. He could hardly endure the devastating truth. This valiant girl would never have been in danger if he hadn’t stolen her away from her home.

  "Stay there." His voice was still harsher than he intended, as he battled the storm of emotions battering him.

  Callum rose and crossed to the burn that flowed into the mighty Mare's Tail waterfall. He kneeled to dip his handkerchief in the water.

  "Should ye check to see if Sheena's alive?" Mhairi called over the water's noise.

  When he stood, he stepped toward the edge. Below him, the girl's body lay motionless, her neck at an unnatural angle. The thought that it could as easily be Mhairi instead of Sheena at the base
of that cliff made him want to vomit.

  He returned to where his beloved waited, for once obedient to his command. "Aye, she's dead."

  Crouching at her side, he wiped the blood from her arm. Nausea percolated in his belly as he inspected the long shallow cut. He didn't dare look up for fear of betraying how close he was to losing control. He'd been wounded in battle several times, but seeing someone he loved suffering was worse.

  "When I get back to Achnasheen, I'll send a party to collect Sheena’s body."

  Mhairi bit her lip and shifted. She was pale and trembling and looked ill. He'd been in enough skirmishes to recognize that only now did the full effects of the attack set in. He'd seen men like berserkers in battle who broke down and cried in the aftermath. Watching this braw lassie try to hold herself together made him ache.

  "Is this hurting?" He was being as careful as if he spun cloth from spider's web.

  "No," she said in a tight voice.

  "Liar." At the first sight of her covered in blood, remorse had made him feel even sicker than he already did. But as he gently cleaned the wound, he was relieved to see it wasn’t serious. Uncomfortable no doubt, but it should heal clean.

  "Will I live?" she asked dryly.

  "The bleeding has stopped, and it’s no’ too deep."

  "Jean will fix it."

  He didn't answer. "Can I tear a strip off your petticoat to bind it?"

  "Aye."

  When she bent, she could hardly contain a groan. He stopped her with a gesture. "Let me."

  Callum raised her skirt a few inches and used his dirk to cut a long strip of lawn. With efficient hands, he wrapped the injury.

  "Thank ye," she said softly.

  "When I think of what might have happened…" The words jammed in his throat and he looked away, ashamed of the tears in his eyes.

  "But ye saved me."

  It wasn't enough. God’s teeth, how could it be? He blinked away the mist in front of his eyes and faced her again. "I didnae mean to kill her, although the witch deserved it."