by Wine, Mary
Rhedyn felt her heart suddenly stop. She was somehow suspended between heartbeats as she heard the Mackenzie Retainers muttering in agreement.
So, this was what blood lust was…
She drew in a stiff breath to fend off a wave of blurry vision. If she was to die, she’d bloody well face her fate with courage. Her vision sharpened, allowing her to stare straight into the eyes of Buchanan Mackenzie. He gripped her by the upper arm, pulling her in front of him.
By Christ, he was big.
Wide shoulders gave way to arms which were thick with muscle. His eyes were topaz and flickering with temper.
“Killing that old goat will no’ be an even exchange for Iain,” Hamish pressed his opinion. “The price paid must be equal to what the Lindseys have taken from the Mackenzies.”
The Mackenzie Retainers grumbled in agreement.
“Ye bastards,” Colum Lindsey said from across the green. “Are ye the bloody English, then? Settling business between men with me daughter?” He grunted and reached for a sword. “Bring yer fight to me, Buchanan Mackenzie.”
Rhedyn felt her breath freeze in her chest. “Nae…he is an old man…ye must not. Please do…not fight him.” She curled her fingers around his forearm, unconsciously attempting to keep him from meeting her father’s challenge. His eyes narrowed, his jaw clenching.
But all around them the rumblings were increasing and growing in volume. Blood lust was contagious it would seem.
*
Buchanan Mackenzie settled his attention on Colum as he raised his hand, making it plain he was going to render his decision. The Mackenzie Retainers went silent.
Rhedyn could only wait helplessly.
“Since ye have naught but daughters,” Buchanan began, “it seems there is no way to even this score without them.”
Colum was turning red with rage, but Buchanan didn’t wavier.
“I do nae spill women’s blood,” Buchanan said. There was a rumble of approval from those watching. “But Hamish is correct in saying that the loss of me brother can only be paid for by taking one of yer direct kin.”
The grip on her arm tightened past the point of pain. But it was nothing compared to the look of raw anguish on her father’s face. Her sire was struggling to draw in a breath, his lips moving as he attempted to force an argument past his horror.
“Me daughter—”
“Belongs to me now,” Buchanan finished for him. “The next man who thinks to betray the Mackenzies better hear of this matter and know we will extract a high price for betrayal.”
*
Rhedyn blinked more than once throughout the rest of the afternoon and into the evening as she attempted to wake up from the living nightmare and leave the Mackenzies behind.
Luck didn’t favor her. They rode hard and long before stopping to rest the horses. In spite of how badly she wanted to leave the saddle, Rhedyn didn’t because such an action would leave more vulnerable to the Makenzie Retainers.
“Get off the horse.”
The Mackenzie Retainer who spoke didn’t give Rhedyn time to comply with his demand. He hooked her arm with his large hand and pulled her over the side of the beast she sat on. The only mercy he afforded her was to keep her from crashing to the ground, because both her legs weren’t beneath her as she landed.
His mercy was short lived. With a snort of disgust, he flung her away from the horse and turned to take the reins. Rhedyn stumbled, stepping on her skirt. She fought against the motion of her body, succeeding in avoiding falling face first in the dirt. There was an ominous sound from the waistband of her skirt as stiches were ripped. With a little hop, she managed to get her feet off the wool fabric and back onto the ground.
Several of the Mackenzie Retainers offered her disdainful glares.
Rhedyn straightened her back. One of the men didn’t care for her lack of fear. He had a scar running across his forehead from a knife blade, and it served to make him appear nightmarish. The way his lips curled into a sneer only completed the moment.
“Ye’ll soon learn yer place, Lindsey bitch,” he said.
He raised his hand to strike her, but she didn’t lower her head. She stared straight at him. Since pride was all she had left, she’d hold tight to it.
A hard tug on her skirt sent her back before the blow landed.
“Relieve yerself,” Buchanan ordered without any care for the delicate topic. He jerked his head in the direction of an outcropping of trees. “Quickly, or ye can wet yerself for all I care.”
Her cheeks heated, but she turned and went the direction he’d indicated. She had the feeling having her bodily functions mentioned was going to be the least of her concerns while she kept company with the Mackenzies.
But obeying her captor did take her away from the men who had so very recently demanded her blood be spilled.
She’d never hated her father’s neighboring clan. However, she’d been raised with a healthy respect for their strength. The younger lads of the Lindseys might be brazen enough to talk about lifting a few head of cattle from the Mackenzies, but none of them actually did it. At least not very often. The Mackenzies were known for making certain they took twice as much as someone stole from them. The current circumstances were proof of that.
Rhedyn looked up after finishing her business and drew in a deep breath. She caught the scent of rain coming on the night breeze. Her heart thumped, and her nose felt chilled as the moon began to rise.
She mustn’t allow herself to despair. Better to put her strength to use in thinking of a solution.
The Mackenzies were powerful, but that didn’t make the Lindseys weaklings. Taking a man’s daughter wouldn’t reflect well on the Mackenzies. They might be the stronger clan, but if the Munros and Lindseys united against them, the Mackenzies wouldn’t be assured of victory.
Rhedyn felt her fear receding. She couldn’t be the only one who realized the facts. Buchanan wouldn’t have lasted as laird for a year if he didn’t have any sense.
An owl cried out somewhere in the distance. Darkness was deepening around them, the moon a sliver in the sky. Rhedyn realized she was very much alone. Could it be Buchanan was giving her a hint to run and allow him to save face with his men?
In any case, she couldn’t afford to waste the chance to escape.
But her first step caused a crunching sound as she set her foot down on a stick, which had dried out in the warm spring weather.
Do nae panic…
She might be a lass, but she was also her father’s daughter. She set out again; this time, she lowered her foot slowly. She felt the debris on the forest floor depress beneath her weight, but no sound came. Satisfaction filled her even though she battled the rise of frustration over how slow her progress was. Every tiny sound was cause for alarm. Still, she’d press on.
“I should have let ye wet yerself.”
A half cry got past her lips as she was shoved into the thick trunk of a tree by a single hand placed across her throat. Buchanan’s grasp was impossibly strong. She withered against it, unable to quell the urge to struggle. He held her without any strain, staring at her silently until she went still.
“I do nae fancy having a stinking woman riding near enough for me to suffer the stench, or I would no’ have allowed ye a bit of privacy,” he groused.
Buchanan was only a shadow in the moonlight.
But that was enough to send fear through her.
In the darkness, the Mackenzie laird embodied every whispered tale of marauders she’d ever heard by the hearth in the dead of winter when the old women had done their best to frighten the younger girls into obedience by recounting stories of what happened to those who didn’t stick close to the kitchens and chaperones. Tales of girls left dead by the side of the road who walked the night as ghosts because their souls were so tormented.
“Ye are no very bright, are ye Rhedyn Lindsey?” Buchanan had leaned toward her, his voice a rough whisper. “Why are ye making me take ye in hand?”
It
was strange the way her name sobered her. Somehow, hearing it cut through her rising fear, leaving her once more holding tightly to her identity and the need to maintain her dignity, no matter the circumstances. She’d thought the matter through. Reasoning was the way to gain her freedom.
“Why…keep me?” Her voice was a ghost of a whisper. “Ye can let me go…and no one will be the wiser. Ye have appeased the tempers of yer men by taking me. But keeping me will enrage more than just the Lindsey. Ye must see it’s best to allow me to escape.”
“Ye’d have me tell men I expect to follow me into battle that I can nae keep control of one small lass?” He let out a snort. “They’ll rip these feathers off me bonnet, and me balls as well, to make certain I do nae father any idiotic spawn to insult the Mackenzie name.”
His hard retort threatened to undermine her composure.
“Ye needn’t be vulgar,” Rhedyn admonished. Perhaps chastising him wasn’t the wisest choice, but the words were across her lips before she managed to think twice about the matter.
His fingers tightened in response. “Ye will no’ be telling me what to do.”
She glowered at him and discovered she preferred boldness to meekness.
“Allow me to leave, and ye can be certain I will not give ye any trouble,” she said. “Ride away and take yer men. Be wise enough to see taking me along will only end in bloodshed for both our kin.”
Bold, impulsive words.
Well, they felt better than being strangled by her own fear…
“By the sound of ye,” Buchanan moved in closer, “I may have made a grave error in taking ye. Colum might just consider himself well rid of the shrew ye sound like.”
Rhedyn gasped. She was suddenly trying to tear at the fingers clasping her throat. Her captor leaned in so that he could use his body to keep her pinned in place, but she wasn’t finished fighting. She lifted her knee, jamming it up toward his groin as she’d been taught by her father’s war chief.
“Christ.” Buchanan growled as he shifted, so her knee collided with his thigh instead. His grip tightened on her neck, making it impossible to draw even breath into her body. Her eyes burned, and her vision began to waver. Still, she fought on, digging her fingernails into the skin on his forearm.
“Ye label me vulgar for mentioning them,” Buchanan spoke so close to her face, she felt his breath against her lips. “But someone sure as hell told ye where a man’s balls are.”
“I was taught to defend myself against villains!” Rhedyn cried.
She felt him stiffen. A moment later, she was sagging against the trunk of the tree, her throat free from his grip. She sucked in a deep breath as she lifted her gaze, ignoring the weakness threatening to buckle her knees and sweep her away on a wave of blackness. She would not crumple at his feet. But the time it took for her to catch her breath also saw her temper flickering out. Buchanan stood silent, as though she was questioning his actions.
Ye are seeing what ye want to see in him…
Perhaps she just couldn’t stop herself from trying to get him to see the logic in allowing her to escape. Huge and hulking as he was, she still didn’t see him as a blaggard. But how to awaken his sympathy?
Buchanan had retreated several steps and hooked his hands around the wide, leather belt holding the pleats of his plaid in place.
“Ye do nae care to be called villain?” she asked, more stunned by the way such a simple word had succeeded in making him release her than she ever could have imagined.
“Yer father betrayed me blood,” he answered. “What I have done is seek justice.”
“There is no proof that my father is guilty,” Rhedyn said. “Simply because he was at the Sow’s Troth doesn’t mean he betrayed yer kin.”
“And there is still plenty of proof that he did spill the information on where my brother was bound,” Buchanan responded. “If I release ye, me men will insist I fight yer father. Ye asked me no’ to do so. Hence, ye are coming with me.”
Stalemate…
They locked gazes, neither of them looking away. Duty was something sitting on both their shoulders in that moment. She should have been thinking about how to convince him that he was doing wrong but instead, Rhedyn discovered herself seeing what they had in common.
He grunted a moment later, reaching out to close his fingers around her upper arm. “Ye are coming with us, mistress. Step one foot beyond where I tell ye, and I’ll have ye bound to make certain ye are where I place ye. It’s up to ye how uncomfortable ye will be on this journey.”
There was a look in his eyes which sent a shiver down her spine. But what chilled her blood was the fact that she was very certain Buchanan was a man who would back up his words without hesitation.
She was his captive and the worst part was, she could see the logic in his actions.
*
“Ye might have waited until we got home to toss her skirts.”
It was Hamish who made the vulgar comment.
But what made Buchanan shove Rhedyn toward his captain, Graham, was the fact that several of his men made approving noises in response.
It sickened him.
“Rape is an ugly thing.” Buchanan spoke carefully for his men were still spoiling for a fight. “It leaves a stain on a man’s soul. Taking Colum’s daughter is one thing. Committing an act of violence on her, well, that is another matter altogether.”
“The daughter of a traitor deserves no better,” Hamish insisted. “How else are ye planning to gain justice for Iain’s death?”
Hamish faced off with him, clearly discontented with Buchanan’s handling of the matter.
“Fighting an old man would no’ have served the Mackenzie name well.” Buchanan informed Hamish. “Nor would have turning that wedding into a massacre. Think, man. If we’d acted like savages, every clan represented there would have united against us fearing they would be next. Justice is what ye crave but as yer laird, I have to keep me mind on what will serve the clan best.”
His men had been set to stand firm with Hamish, but they considered his thinking, many of them nodding reluctantly in agreement.
“Taking Colum’s daughter accomplishes naught if we plan to do nothing with her,” Hamish said, clearly unwilling to see reason.
“I left a slice across Colum Lindsey’s heart that will no’ ever heal so long as he knows his daughter is mine to do with as I please,” Buchanan delivered his opinion in an icy tone. “If she’s dead, she no longer suffers. He can console himself with the knowledge that she is at rest.”
Hamish snorted. He looked past Buchanan to where she stood. Hate burned brightly in his eyes.
The man Buchanan had shoved her toward caught her by the wrist and tugged her over to where the horses were. The disgruntled expression on his face made it plain he had no liking for his task. But he started to lean over and interlace his fingers to help her mount.
*
“I can manage quite well,” Rhedyn muttered. She wanted to sound more composed, but the truth was Buchanan’s words had chilled her to the bone.
‘If she’s dead, she no longer suffers…’
Rhedyn fought back the need to retch in response. Was she truly so lacking in courage that simple words were enough to make her sick? By Christ, she refused to allow it to be so. She’d managed a conversation with the beast, so there was no reason to be sick now.
She reached up and grasped the bridle. The horse they’d given her was mild tempered as far as stallions went. Which was to say, she’d be wise to make sure she kept a watchful eye on the animal if she didn’t care to end up tossed off its back.
Not that she blamed the creature. In fact, she decided the horse and herself were rather well matched. Both of them were expected to endure what the Mackenzies burdened them with.
Graham watched as she led the horse around to where there were several large rocks. Rhedyn spoke softly to the animal. With a final pat, she lifted her skirt and used one of the rocks as a stepping-off spot. The beast shifted when sh
e settled into the saddle. She ran a hand along its neck in a soothing motion.
“Glad to know I don’t have to be mothering ye,” Graham said before he turned to see to his own horse.
Rhedyn looked down at the reins.
So tempting…
One good dig with her heels into the sides of the stallion and it would take off into the night. She could feel the strength of the beast, felt how wide it was across its back. Of course, she expected no less from any horse the Mackenzies had ridden out of their stronghold.
“Ye are coming with us, mistress. Step one foot beyond where I tell ye, and I’ll have ye bound to make certain ye are where I place ye. It’s up to ye how uncomfortable ye will be on this journey.”
Rhedyn cast a look toward Buchanan as his words rose from her memory. The Mackenzie laird was testing the strap securing his saddle to the back of his horse, but he turned his head so their gazes met.
She wished she didn’t feel that connection so keenly.
The urge to flee intensified with knowing he was staring at her.
Don’t be foolish…
Rhedyn listened to her instincts and forced herself to take in her surroundings. Over half of Buchanan’s Retainers were mounted. They’d run her down with pathetic ease.
Her plight was pitiful enough without ending in the dirt at their feet.
Even knowing that, she discovered her legs frozen to the sides of the horse. Graham gave her a jerk of his head, and still she found it impossible to urge her horse into motion.
But the horse knew which direction home lay in. As the rest of the Mackenzies fell into line, her horse tossed its head and began to follow. She bit her lip to contain the sound of despair which tried to escape from her.
She must be smarter than her captors, for they’d win when it came to a matching of strength. Out thinking them, well, there was where her opportunity lay. Such would be just as much of a challenge as matching blow for blow with them.
All of her life, she had heard tales of courage and bravery. Such traits had been expounded upon as virtues which offered rich rewards to those who displayed them in times of adversity. Right then, she knew without a doubt she was engaged in the battle of her life.
