by Fiona Faris
The image of James’ blond head moving across her body, kissing and laving as he traveled the length of her, pausing to pay special attention to each of her nipples, flashed through her mind, causing her to seize in desire. Pretending that the water was James’ touch, she lay back upon the sea and let the waves ripple over her naked body. The water’s icy touch invaded every part of her body, every fold, every crevice, every hidden place that she possessed, rocking her to the heights of ecstasy on the strength of her memories. “James!” she cried out as she convulsed in pleasure’s conclusive grip. Her muscles spasmed over and over and over again as she began to sink below the water’s surface into the darkness beneath. For one single solitary moment she contemplated remaining there, forever in James’ imagined embrace, but she came to her senses quickly enough and swam to shore.
Elizabeth lay back upon the grass and let the cool night breezes whisper along her skin, whisking away the droplets left by the sea. “Now that is a sight a man does not see every day,” a man’s voice observed from the darkness above her.
Elizabeth scrambled to her feet grabbing her clothes from the ground to hide her nakedness. “Who are you and what do you want?” she demanded of the dark figure before her.
“Who I am is of no consequence. What I want is you.” He stepped forward and Elizabeth turned to run away from him, but she was not able to move fast enough. The man’s sword hilt came down hard upon the back of her skull, and her knees buckled beneath her.
“Why?” she whispered as the darkness enveloped her, but she did not need to hear the answer. The man’s English accent told her everything she needed to know.
* * *
James sat in the hall of Knock Castle surrounded by the fighting men of the clan. He had given the men and women of the clan time to come to terms with what had been revealed before summoning them to begin planning. He had only been able to give them a day, and he regretted that, but time was an unknown and precious thing for them now. Every moment brought them closer to their possible destruction, which meant that every moment counted and should be used to its utmost advantage. In spite of the brief adjustment period, his men had been more than ready to begin preparations for the defense of the clan.
“We need a plan tae thwart the Sassenach Earls and their men without bringin’ more English retribution down upon our heads. The last thing our island needs are a bunch o’ redcoats runnin’ about. I could turn meself o’er tae them, but that would nae stop them from tearin’ the island apart, rapin’ and pillagin’ as they go. Nae matter what happens I will nae give them Elizabeth.”
“And nae one would ask ye tae do so, James. She is yer wife. She is one o’ us now. She is a Scotswoman and worthy o’ our protection,” Robbie reassured him. James smiled at his brother’s words. He looked forward to getting to know him better after everything was over, if they were all still alive.
Isla’s father, who had just returned from Ireland with word of the Irish Earl’s life there, spoke up. “The Irishman is one o’ poor reputation. He is suspected in bein’ responsible for the deaths o’ more than a few lasses, but there have ne’er been any witnesses left tae tell the tale. If we could find someone who saw him committin’ such a heinous act, then he could be hanged for his crimes, but I would need more time tae find such a person. He has covered his tracks well.”
“We would need proof o’ murder tae get him hanged. Unfortunately, testimony o’ rape is nae enough tae see a nobleman swing in an English court o’ law,” James pointed out. “It bloody well should be, but it isnae.”
“Were it nae for the English sendin’ more troops, I would gladly slit his throat and be done with it,” William grumbled.
“As would we all,” Isla’s father agreed, stabbing his sgian dubh into the table’s rough wooden surface for emphasis.
“What o’ Donald MacDonald’s offer o’ aid?” Robbie asked.
“Aye, we will call upon him, tae be sure; but I fear it will nae be enough. It would take every man, woman, and child on the island tae turn these bastards back without bloodshed,” James replied, sitting back as Mary MacDonald filled his tankard with ale.
“Every man, woman, and child, ye say?” Mary asked, her face thoughtful.
“Aye,” James nodded. “I ken well enough that such a thing ‘twould be impossible, I only meant it as a matter o’ numbers nothin’ more.”
“Aye, but such a thing is possible,” Mary argued.
“I dinnae ken what ye mean,” James frowned.
“Speak plainly, lass,” William ordered.
“What if ye did have the support o’ all the clans? What if when that English ship approaches it is faced with the full force o’ Skye waitin’ upon the shores. I ken well enough that nae all o’ the clans on Skye are our allies, but they dinnae need tae be. They would only need tae hate the English as much as we do tae be o’ aid.”
“Aye, ‘tis true,” William looked at Mary in surprise.
James sat back in thought. “Do ye think we could get the other clans tae agree?”
“Mayhap, if ye were willin’ tae tell them the truth o’ what happened tae put us in the mess tae begin with. Ye cannae have them walkin’ away the moment the truth is revealed in the middle o’ a battle,” Robbie pointed out. “Nae everythin’ about our faither, mind, but about Elizabeth as yer bride and what the bastards did tae poor wee Isla.”
“Aye, I ken the sense o’ yer words,” James nodded slowly. “And ye are right. If we stand a chance at scarin’ the Sassenachs in tae turnin’ away from our shores, we will need every man we can get.”
“Dinnae be forgettin’ the women so soon, Laird. Have we nae proven our worth tae ye? Would nae any man think thrice afore attackin’ a line o’ women?” Mary chastened.
“Aye, I will nae be forgettin’ ye and yer lassies any time soon, Mrs. MacDonald,” James smiled at her in appreciation. “Nor will any man here.”
A chorus of, “Aye,” went around the table, each man nodding in affirmation.
“Verra well, then. Let us send out messengers tae all the lairds o’ Skye and see what can be done; but we should be quick about it afore we run out o’ time.”
“Aye, I can feel the stench o’ their breath on me neck already,” William remarked in disgust.
“God forbid it become truth,” Mary intoned as she moved away with the pitcher back to the kitchen.
“Aye, God forbid indeed,” William agreed, looking across the hall at Isla tending the fire.
James followed his line of sight and nodded. “There is much at stake here. The morrow is nae certain, which is why we should make the most o’ every moment gifted tae us this day.”
William nodded, never taking his eyes from Isla. “Such as a weddin’ perhaps?”
“Aye, the verra thing I was thinkin’ meself.” He turned to Isla’s father, “With yer permission o’ course.”
“Aye, I would be glad o’ it.”
“‘Tis just what the clan needs,” another o’ the men replied in approval.
“Then ‘tis settled. If the bride has nae objections, we will hold the weddin’ this night here in the castle.”
William nodded, then stood and walked over to Isla. James watched as his friend spoke to his betrothed in soft, affectionate tones, then split into a grin when she nodded her head and kissed William on the lips. He was not sure how much time would need to pass before she would be ready to consummate the marriage with her recent trauma, but that was between them. It was clear that, in spite of the circumstances of their betrothal, they had grown to care for each other very much. Whatever time they had remaining, it would be with each other, and that was all any man or woman could ask for.
James’ thoughts turned once more to Elizabeth, and he wished that she were here with him now, but for the good of his clan and for her, she could not be until the issue of the Earls was resolved. James needed to be able to truthfully say that she was not on the island if he wished to avoid further bloodshed. The fact that she was now his
wife was still in question as to whether it would help or hinder their cause. “She will return tae yer arms, brother. Fear nae, we will make this right, and she will come home tae ye,” Robbie’s words broke through James’ thoughts.
“Aye,” James nodded, smiling at his brother. He studied Robbie’s face for similarities. He wondered why he had never noticed that they had the same eyes until now, blue and intense. Where James was Norse in coloring with his blond hair and sharp features, Robbie was dark and broad. Where James was clean-shaven, Robbie seemed to always have a shadow of dark whiskers. Even their skin was a slightly different shade. They could not have looked more opposite if they had tried; but despite their differences, there was no denying that they were brothers as their eyes said it all.
Mary had told James the day before that she could barely recognize her son anymore and that she was glad of it. Gone was the pervading sense of bitter anger that Robbie had held in his heart for James, and the loss of it had transformed him. Mary had said that there was still much anger toward their father for all that he had done, and about the way Robbie had come into the world, but learning of James’s true nature had healed some of the wounds. James knew that Robbie had a long way to go before he would be able to come to terms with who he was and separate that from his origins, but he planned to be there for every moment of the struggle if Robbie would let him.
Turning his attention back to the matter at hand, James set about deciding which messengers would be sent to which lairds to produce the best outcome. William, Robbie, and Isla’s father would remain at the castle and help prepare for William and Isla’s wedding. The remainder of the day was spent in writing missives and going about wedding preparations. When it came time for the wedding, a small number of the clan gathered in the hall to witness the ceremony. The minister had been sent for and now stood upon the dais. When the vows had been exchanged and the blessing given, a great cry of congratulations went up from those gathered.
As the newly wedded couple turned to face the crowd, the main doors to the hall crashed open with such force it thundered through the room silencing the revelry. The men pulled their swords ready for the worst. Ian MacDonald charged into the room, frantically searching the faces in the crowd for James. Finding him, he rushed across the floor. “Ian? What are ye doin’ here? Where is Elizabeth?” Ian clasped his friend by the arm as if to steady him for what was to come. James’ heart sped up in his chest at the look in Ian’s eyes. “What is it man? Speak!”
“Elizabeth has been taken. She is gone.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Elizabeth opened her eyes to find herself lying upon the rough wooden floor of a moving ship. The vessel creaked and rolled with the sea, as a fallen leaf bobbing along in a stream. Her head pounded. The memory of the shadowy man who had hit her flashed through behind her eyes Again?! This was the third time that she had suffered a head injury, and she had had quite enough of it. Just wait until I get my hands on who is responsible for this! I will wring their necks! She was angry, confused, disoriented, and scared. She attempted to stand but found that she could not get her legs to stop trembling long enough to propel her upward. She looked about her for something that she could use as leverage, or even a weapon to use on her captors if it came to that.
She found that she had been placed in a cabin. The oil lamp swung from the ceiling in treacherous sways back and forth overhead, casting shadows and light where it willed among the room’s few possessions. The room held a table and chairs, a chest, a writing desk, and a bed. They could not have had the decency to place me upon the bed instead of the floor? Elizabeth groaned and leveraged herself up onto her hands and knees. She crawled to the door and pulled on the latch. It would not move. She pulled again putting her weight into it. Still it would not move. She pulled herself up using the doorframe and hammered at the door with her fists. “Let me out! I demand that you let me out this instant!” No one came.
Trembling and exhausted from the effort, she stumbled toward the bed and crawled in among the pillows and blankets. She moved back the curtains from the windows and gazed out at the roiling sea churned up by the ship’s wake. Light flooded the cabin, illuminating the darkness within. The bunk was narrow, barely large enough to fit a fully-grown man, but sufficient to hold her. She reached out and touched the glass of the windowpane, its cool smooth surface like a balm to her frightened, fevered soul. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in a small mirror that hung on the wall above the bunk. Her features were gaunt and pale, with eyes haunted by the memories of what had been, and the tiniest flickering hopes of all that could still be.
She contemplated breaking the glass and jumping out into the sea, but such would surely guarantee her death, and she still had just enough hope that life held something far more beautiful ahead than she could see in that moment. The thumping of men’s feet upon the deck sounded overhead and men’s shouts cutting through air. Her head spinning and aching with each swell of the ship upon the waters, Elizabeth lay down and covered herself with the blanket, attempting to block out the sounds and sensations of the ship. Flashes of memory surged through her mind of her previous journey on just such a ship, in just such a cabin. Closing her eyes, it was as if she were right back there in the storm that had taken so many lives and, in its destruction, had blessed her with a life and love far better than the one she had left behind.
The maidservant Anna Maxwell, whom Ian MacDonald had brought back from her father’s estate, had done what she could to tell Elizabeth of the life that she had had before washing ashore on Skye. It had not instilled in her a sense of confidence in the life that she had once led or the family and people that she had once called her own. Anna had said that Elizabeth had been terrified when she left for Ireland. Anna had thought that it was simply the nerves of a new bride, but Elizabeth sensed that it had been far more than that. There was something niggling at her, even more than the terrible actions that the man had already proven himself capable of, she just could not remember what it was. Thoughts of her former betrothed unsettled her, and she pushed them away.
How did they find me? The man who had taken her had been English. It followed that he must be one of the Earls’ men, whether her father’s or the Irishman’s she did not know. What she could not figure out was how, after every precaution that they had taken, one of their men had found her. It was not as if the Isle o’ Jura was the first or even second place that anyone would have looked for her. There must have been another of their spies on the Isle of Skye and when we left, and he must have followed us. It is the only logical conclusion I can come to, unless they were able to turn one of James’ men against him. Such a thing was not unheard of in any household, even those with the best of men at their head. James will not be pleased either way. She wondered if he even knew that she was gone. Surely, Ian will have discovered my absence by now and set out for Skye. She knew not how long she had been unconscious and feared from the state of herself that it had been some time.
Unable to stay awake as the darkness encroached upon her once more, she gave way to the oblivion that sleep allowed. Reaching out she touched the glass pane once more, willing her love through the cool hard surface and out onto the sea, willing it out across the water to Skye, and willing it to James. Forever, my love, whether here or in the hereafter, you will hold my love forever.
* * *
“What do ye mean she has been taken?!” James roared; fear and anger coursing through his being in crashing waves. He grasped the front of Ian’s shirt in his fists, shaking the man in his terror fueled fury. “Ye were tae protect her! I entrusted her tae yer care! How in God’s name did they find her?!”
“I dinnae ken, James! I swear, I dinnae ken!”
William laid a hand on James’ shoulder in equal parts comfort and caution. James released his hold on Ian and turned away, leaning his head against the hearth of the fireplace. He felt sick to his stomach, as if the bottom of the world had fallen out and left him suspended in the darkness
of eternity without anything to cling to save him from being swallowed whole by the pain of it. “Where is she?” he ground out.
“I dinnae ken. There was nae sign o’ her or the men who took her, but her arisaid on the ground and a groove in the dirt nearby where a boat had come and gone from the shore without anyone’s notice. They must have still had spies on Skye when ye sent her away. They must have followed us. I blame meself for nae kennin’ it sooner.”
James roared his fury, his entire body shaking with the rage he felt. The sound was more animal than human. “I should nae have sent her away; I should have kept her here with me, consequences be damned,” he whispered into the flames.
“Ye did what ye thought best. We all did,” William reminded him.
“That does nae change the fact that she is gone, and tae where we dinnae ken.”
“I will send men to England and to Ireland to see if she has been returned tae either o’ the Earls’ households.”
