by Fiona Faris
“Aye, have them fly like the wind and tae do what e’er it takes tae find her. I dinnae care if they have tae beg, bribe, blackmail, steal, or murder men in their beds while they sleep, I want her found and brought back tae Skye where she belongs. Do I make meself clear?”
“Aye, Laird,” the men standing around him answered as one, then scattered, William barking orders as they went.
“I will return tae Jura and see if I can find anythin’ further there. If nae, I will return tae England, tae her faither’s estate tae see if anyone kens anythin’ about the lass’s whereabouts,” Ian promised, then turned to leave the hall.
I will find ye, me love. Dinnae give up hope. I will find ye if I have to drain the sea dry and rip England and Ireland off o’ the face o’ the earth with me bare hands. He sent his words out to Elizabeth on the puffs of smoke that rose up out of the chimney and floated out over the sea as whispery tendrils of longing.
“We cannae send our best fightin’ men as we will need them here when the English come; but I will send out the canniest. ‘Twill be they with a mind tae find the lass,” William joined him at the fireplace.
“Aye, ‘tis best.” James stood staring into the flames for a moment longer attempting to put the shattered pieces of his heart back together again enough to be able to function with any normalcy, but his efforts failed miserably. He turned to William and placed a hand on his shoulder. He caught a glimpse of Isla waiting off to the side. “Yer new bride is awaitin’ on ye. Ye dinnae wish tae spend yer weddin’ night with a foul-tempered, lonely man such as I when ye have a bonnie wee lass o’ a wife tae go home tae.”
“I dinnae wish tae leave ye in a time such as this,” William argued, shaking his head.
“Yer bein’ at me side will nae bring her back tae me any faster. There is nae sense in both o’ us bein’ miserable, me friend. Go, make love tae yer wife if she’ll have ye. If nae, hold her in yer arms and thank God that she is safe.” James released William’s shoulder and sent him on his way. William turned and walked over to his new bride. He leaned down and kissed her tenderly, then tucked her under his arm, and they left the hall together, clearly in love with one another.
James turned back to the flames and leaned his head against his arm on the mantle. The orange tendrils licked upwards ever hungry, reaching for more. It reminded him of the morning that they had made love lying in front of the fireplace at Andrew MacDonald’s croft. He sighed, closing his eyes and remembering the feel of her beneath him in the fire’s glow. The heat of the flames against his face now was much as it had been then as he had moved in and out of her blessed core. He opened his eyes as the pain of the memory nearly robbed him of breath. The flames flickered blue for the briefest of moments, calling forth the image of Elizabeth’s eyes. They hung before him in the fire’s light, her face shimmering into view, shining with so much love and trust that it caused physical pain in his chest.
He longed to sink his blade into the bodies of the men who had taken her. He could just imagine the shock on their faces as his dirk plunged into their bellies and as life drained out of their eyes. He longed to feel their hot blood flowing out onto his hands. Awash in dreams of vengeance, he did not hear anyone come up behind him. “James,” Robbie’s voice beckoned.
Sighing, James turned to face his brother. He found Robbie standing there, holding out a dram of whiskey. “Nae, I should keep a clear head until this business with the English is concluded.”
“This is nae the night for clear heads, brother. This is a night tae drown yer sorrows. There will be plenty o’ time tae face yer enemy upon the morrow.” Robbie extended the whiskey again, and this time James took it, nodding gratefully for the thought. “Tae Elizabeth,” Robbie raised his dram. “May she be returned tae yer arms safe and sound and may the men who took her rot in their graves unmourned and forgotten.”
“Aye,” James raised his dram in agreement, and they both downed their drinks in a single gulp. James wished that the whiskey could burn away his pain as easily as it burned his throat. They both sat down in the chairs in front of the fireplace, and Mary MacDonald appeared as if by magic to refill their glasses, being sure to leave the jug behind before she once again disappeared from sight. The pain in his chest worsened, and James poured another dram gulping it down as swiftly as the first. The gentle warmth in his belly did little to assuage his feelings and fears.
James drank copious amounts of whiskey in silence, while Robbie sat across from him without uttering a word all night. He never left his side for a moment, simply being there in quiet commiseration for his brother’s pain. When the black oblivion of drunkenness enveloped him, James welcomed it with open arms. “We’ll find her, brother,” he heard Robbie whisper as he covered James’ body with a blanket. “E’en if it takes me last dyin’ breath tae bring her back tae ye, ye will hold her in yer arms once more. I swear it.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
When Elizabeth awoke again, it was to the sound of someone moving about inside of the room with her. She cracked her eyes open to find an English soldier staring down at her. “Who are you?” she asked, sitting up in surprise. The quick movement caused a sharp pain to splinter her skull, but she managed to remain erect. “I have been sent to fetch you. You are to clean yourself up and present yourself before His Lordship. I have brought you clean water and fresh linens. The chest there in the corner holds any clothing you might need. I shall await you just outside of the door, when you are ready, My Lady.” The soldier bowed and left the room, closing the door behind him.
Elizabeth contemplated disobeying, but she had a feeling that if she did not do as instructed, she would be drug up on decks regardless. She would much rather face her fate clean and properly clothed. She thought of it as a sort of armor for herself, a way to protect her inner spirit in the chaos of uncertainty that seemed to be her constant companion. Rising from the bunk, she did as bidden, removing her clothes and washing herself. She moved over to the chest and opened it. The moment that she did, a rush of recognition came over her. These are my things! The chest was filled with the things that she had left behind during preparation for her last journey. It had been a form of rebellion on her part to leave so many of her possessions behind, as if to say to her father that she had no intentions of marrying the Irishman. Father must have done this.
She knelt in front of the chest and ran her hands along the water blue silk dress that lay upon the top of the pile. It was light and airy and felt as a gentle stream trickling through her fingers. Elizabeth pulled the dress out of the chest and laid her cheek upon the smooth fabric. Setting it in her lap, she pulled out the required underclothing, and then carried them all to the bed. It was not the easiest task for a lady to dress herself properly in such attire alone, but she did the best that she could given the circumstances. Her heart raced with fear and uncertainty about what waited above the deck, and it caused her hands to tremble. She smoothed the silk down over her form as it fell in rippling waves of blue fabric and silver thread. The dress settled around her like an old friend of years too bygone to remember, as if from another life. In many ways it very much was. She brushed her hair and let it fall down her back as it may.
When she was ready, she walked over to the door and knocked on the wood panel. The soldier opened the door, and his eyes widened at the sight of her. “My Lady,” he bowed, and then motioned for her to walk in front of him. They walked down a short hallway and then up a flight of steep stairs that were little more than a ladder. When they came out on deck, Elizabeth took in a deep breath of fresh air, sighing for the briefest of moments in blessed relief. The cabin had been stale and too close for comfort. She looked out over the sea, gauging the sun’s location, and what she hoped was the way back home to Skye, to James. As she turned about, attempting to get her bearings, she noted the large number of men, soldiers and sailors, who all stood staring at her.
The sound of approaching footsteps behind her caused her to turn. “Daughter,” a man greet
ed her, his cold blue eyes filled with nothing but disdain.
“Father?” she breathed in agony, as the sight of him caused memory after memory to tumble through her mind in a deafening roar of emotion and suffering. She staggered back with the force of it, clutching her abdomen as she gasped for breath.
“Elizabeth,” another man stepped out from behind her father’s broad form and approached her, kissing each of her cheeks in greeting. “Ye have led me on a merry chase, my beloved, for which your father and I are none too pleased.”
“You!” Elizabeth lashed out in horror at the sight of the man before her. “It was you! You are the man who killed my mother!” Elizabeth looked from Declan Carr to her father and back again. She raised her hand to strike the Irish Earl, but he caught her arm and stopped her from doing so. She spat in his face and stomped down hard on the man’s foot. She jerked free of his grasp and backed away. It all came back to her at once, in one fell blow. She remembered everything, every sordid detail of her life as it was before. She turned to her father. “You did this! He killed my mother, your wife, and you did nothing to stop him! You stood by and let him get away with it. How could you?”
Declan laughed and leaned in close. “I did the man a favor. How else do ye think I came to be betrothed to ye. ‘Twas not from love, I assure ye. Ye were payment for services rendered. Ye were but a girl then, and I thought it a pitiful payment to be sure, but ye have grown into a beautiful woman and I look forward to breaking you in as the favored filly in my stables.”
“I would sooner die than be married to the likes of you!”
“That can be arranged,” Declan sneered in her face. “I warn ye, little girl, do not tempt me beyond what I can bear or ye will indeed get your wish. Once we are married ye will soon learn tae settle yourself.”
“I cannot marry you. I am already married,” Elizabeth argued defiantly, lifting her chin in pride.
“My Lord?” the soldier who had escorted her above decks questioned her father.
“Please forgive my daughter;. ’tis naught but the ravings of a hysterical young girl. She has not been of sound mind since losing her mother at such an early age.” Her father waved away everything that had just happened as if it were nothing more than the nattering of madness. The soldier nodded and backed away.
Alone, without a champion on a ship full of her father’s paid men, Elizabeth lost all hope of ever being free. Before she had regained her memories of her mother’s death, she had at least clung to the notion that she might make her father see reason or at the very least escape him once she was returned home, but now she saw such things were impossible. Edging backward to the ship’s railing she slid her arse up onto the top of the rail and leaned back over the water. She released her hold on the railing and felt herself fall backward. Goodbye, James. I will love you forever, her heart whispered as she began to slip to her death.
“Oh, no ye don’t, foolish girl,” Declan’s words hit her ears in harsh punishment as his hands gripped her legs. “If ye are going to die, it will be by my hand, not your own. Ye are mine to do as I please.” He jerked her back up over the rail and flung her at the soldier’s feet. “Take her back below until I or her father have further use of her.”
“My Lord,” the soldier bowed and assisted Elizabeth to her feet. Elizabeth jerked her arm from the soldier’s grasp, but he simply took her other arm and guided her back below deck locking her inside the cabin again. “I am sorry, My Lady,” he murmured his apologies as he shut the door.
“Where are you taking me?” Elizabeth launched herself at the wooden panel attempting to break it down.
“We are sailing for the Isle of Skye.” His muffled voice came through the wooden barrier.
“Skye? Why are we going to Skye now that my father has me back?”
“Apparently there is the matter of an island laird that needs to be tended to. We have orders to take the man into custody for the murder of one of the Earl’s men. He will face the executioner or die in battle, but either way, the man is to meet his end.”
“He did not murder that man. The sailor attacked me. The laird was only coming to my defense.”
“That is not what his Lordship claims. I fear it is for the court to decide, My Lady.”
“I am a witness. His Lordship was not even there.”
“The testimony of a madwoman, no matter how noble of birth, is not admissible, My Lady. I am sorry.”
“I am not a madwoman!”
“A madwoman would say that, wouldn’t she?”
Elizabeth screamed and hammered on the door with her fists. “You, sir, are the highest order of imbecile!”
“I am sorry that you feel that way, My Lady.”
“Let me out!”
“I cannot. Goodbye, My Lady.” The soldier’s boots moved away down the hall and back up on deck.
“Do not leave me here!” Elizabeth shouted. “James has done nothing! You cannot kill him! He has done nothing wrong!” Her cries fell on naught but emptiness, as there was no one there to hear them anymore. “I am not mad! James is innocent!” Elizabeth crumpled into a silken puddle at the base of the door. “He is innocent!” Sobs wracked her body with such intensity that her muscles spasmed and convulsed beneath her skin. She screamed in agony and rage, beating at the door until her bruised and bloodied hands could not take it any longer.
When she had no more tears to sob and every part of her body felt as if it had been beaten, she leaned back against the door and closed her eyes. I must find a way to warn James. Had it just been her life in the balance, she would have broken the windows and leaped from the ship as she had contemplated before; but now, no matter what she suffered at the hands of Declan Carr, she must survive. She must survive to save James. Nothing else mattered now but him, nothing.
* * *
When James awoke the next morning, he found himself still sitting in the chair in front of the fireplace, Robbie asleep in the chair across from him. For one glorious moment he did not remember why he was there, but then by the next, it all flooded back. Elizabeth had been taken. His heart constricted in his chest, and he rubbed at the pain. Groaning, he stood and kicked at his brother’s feet. “Wake up.”
Robbie groaned and opened his eyes, then closed them back to slits. “Who e’er it was who decided that whiskey was the water o’ life should be dragged out and shot - ‘tis more the River Styx if ye ask me.”
“Aye,” James agreed, offering his hand to help his brother up. He walked over to the main door of the hall and opened it to let some air in. The sight that greeted him had him blinking his eyes to make sure he was actually awake.
“Christ defend us,” Robbie breathed from beside him.
“Aye, I think that he has,” James agreed. There below them in the courtyard were a sea of fighting men from all over Skye, and there were more coming through the gate. Men, who would normally be fighting each other, were standing side by side in peace.
“They traveled through the night tae get here,” William informed him, climbing the stairs to greet him.
“Do they ken the truth o’ the matter?” James asked in disbelief.
“Aye, they ken it.”
“And yet they came?”
“Their hatred o’ the English is stronger than any judgment, feud, or fear. They dinnae care that yer lass was English afore she wed ye; she is Scottish now. That bastard hurt one o’ our own when he raped me Isla, and he has taken yer wife, the Lady o’ Knock Castle. There is nae a man here that would nae fight for such a cause as tae defend the Isle o’ Skye from the English. The lassies are just more fuel for their rage.”
Robbie clapped James on the shoulder. “Well ye have yer island army, brother. Now what are ye goin’ tae do with them?”
James nodded his head in grim determination. “We fight.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Over the coming days, men continued to pour in from all over the island. Lookouts were posted all along the coast in case the English thought t
hey could sneak up on another side of the island unnoticed. The men trained day and night, the leaders among them gathering in the hall to come up with a plan of defense that would not end in them all being slaughtered in retribution later by the English who would most certainly come. “I think that we should frighten them in tae bein’ tae afraid tae even land their boats on our shores. We should stand as such a force that they wouldnae think tae return,” one of the lairds sitting around the table suggested.
“Aye, but how?” another challenged. “We need a plan.”
James mediated for the men present to ensure that everyone was heard and that no one said or did anything that would break the temporary alliance between them. Robbie and William stood by quietly listening to everything that was said. Mary and Isla weaved in and out of the men offering food and drink where needed. James allowed every man present to voice his thoughts and concerns before he spoke himself. Mary having, listened to every word, frowned in displeasure. “What is it, Mrs. MacDonald? Please, speak freely.”
