by Riley Moreno
‘Ashley! Run!’ Julie screamed and took off with the others, but Ashley would have remained where she was, had not a pair of very strong arms swept her up and carried her away to safety.
‘Who are you?’ Ashley asked breathlessly.
‘Tristan Kincaid – and you can thank me later for rescuing you. Right now I have business to attend to, but conceal yourself and keep safe until I get back.’
‘Clansmen! To war!’ Ashley heard a cry go up and saw, from her vantage point on her rescuer’s shoulders, that the clans had surged back and formed a human wall. Tristan rejoined the clansmen, standing in front and addressing the sea of irate Mackenzies.
‘Cowards! Can you not see we do not have weapons to fight you with? Can you attack us on no other day than this?’
‘There could be no other day than this. This was the day when you all united against us – killed our men, violated our women.’
‘It’s over! That war is over! We have long since paid the price for the transgressions of our ancestors! Let us leave our differences aside!’ Tristan attempted to appease them.
‘Oh no…you will all continue to pay for the sins of your ancestors!’ The Mackenzie clansmen cried.
‘Will you ask us to fight your claymores with our bare hands?’ Tristan asked them.
‘Did all the tribes, when they united to fight us, consider how we would meet your strength?’
‘As I reminded you before, those were our ancestors. Not us. We live in times of peace where the only time we use our claymores is in a display of skill.’
‘Are you playing for time, Kincaid?’
‘No,’ Tristan answered, ‘I appeal to your good sense and ask that you not mar this day with unnecessary bloodshed.’
‘Didn’t you all? On this very day?’ The chief of the Mackenzie clan was obstinate in his argument.
Tristan looked at the clansmen ranged behind him. There were so many clans represented, but he had taken on the role of spokesman for them all. However, this was a moment for them all to decide. He turned to confer with the men, knowing in his heart that they would certainly die if they decided to fight. But their honour was at stake and fight they would. Tristan turned to address the Mackenzie clan when a figure ran into the fray. It was Ashley – white faced and trembling.
‘Wait!’
Tristan whipped about, seeing the woman he had rescued not a few minutes before. She had an envelope in her hand and she was waving it in the air. All the assembled clansmen looked at her with curiosity.
‘I am Ashley Mackenzie,’ Ashley said.
‘Ashley! What kind of name is that?’ Tristan remarked, ‘And why are you here, interrupting our negotiations?’
‘My father was English – hence my name. My mother was Scottish.’
‘How can you call yourself Mackenzie if your father was English?’ the Mackenzie chief asked.
‘Because my father left my mother when I was very little and I wanted to take her name.’
‘What does the envelope contain?’ Tristan asked.
Ashley shook her head. ‘I do not know. I have not opened it.’
‘You are both foolish and foolhardy, woman!’ Tristan growled. ‘You create a diversion with no meaning and no purpose. You should have stayed away, instead of which you will now probably not escape this alive.’
‘Wait!’ the Mackenzie chief said. ‘There must be a reason why you have the envelope.’
‘Yes,’ Ashley said, ‘My mother, Kirstin Mackenzie gave it to me. I was asked to give it to you,’ Ashley said, holding the envelope up to the chief. The chief leaned over in his saddle to take the letter from Ashley’s outstretched hand, but at that moment Tristan grabbed Ashley and held her fast.
‘One of them, are you?’ He said, and she felt his fingers grip her throat.
‘Are you really one from our clan?’ the Mackenzie chief asked her and she nodded.
‘If you take one step forward,’ Tristan warned the Mackenzie clan, ‘I will snap this bonnie lassie’s neck in two and you well know I’m capable of doing it. Turn away and I will release her to safety.
‘What if she is lying? What if this is a ploy to get rid of us?’
‘Perhaps the letter has the answers we need,’ Tristan said, ripping the envelope with his teeth, his fingers still around Ashley’s throat. He laughed, as he read the letter.
‘This girl here is your illegitimate child!’ Tristan taunted the chief.
Ashley stiffened. ‘Her mother writes to you, and tells you to receive her into your care and give her what is due to her as your firstborn.’ He nudged Ashley. ‘I thought you said your father was English.’
Ashley’s face was pale. ‘I was led to believe so. I was unaware that I had been deceived.’
‘Give me the letter!’ the Mackenzie chief demanded.
‘If you would first tell me your name, Sir,’ Ashley ventured.
‘Lydell Mackenzie.’
‘Call him dadaidh,’ Tristan laughed.
‘This is no joke,’ Ashley said, tears springing to her eyes. ‘Perhaps that is the reason my father left us. My mother did say she was with child when he married her.’ She handed the missive to Lydell and he read and re-read it with the Mackenzie clansmen clicking their tongues impatiently – eager to attack the sea of men before them.
Lydell sneered and snorted to disguise his discomfiture at the contents of the letter, and then he swung his horse about, tossing the letter to the ground as he did so.
Tristan released Ashley, who rushed forward and retrieved the letter, dusting it off on her skirt. She watched as the Mackenzie clan left, some of the men turning around and hurling abuse at the other clans, disappointed that their sport had been spoiled for the day.
Tristan cocked an eyebrow at the girl before him. ‘Obviously your father doesn’t want you, but doesn’t want to hurt you either. He will come to his senses in a little while and will return for you, but I will have taken you captive and will extract a ransom from him in the form of a promise that he will never attack us again.’
Ashley turned to run, but Tristan pulled her back. Ashley swung at him, her hand making contact with his chest. She cried out in pain because his hard muscles had hurt the soft flesh of her palm. Tristan grabbed both her arms and pinned them behind her.
‘You are playing a very very dangerous game, Ashley, and I will make you pay.’
Ashley struggled, but was no match for Tristan’s brute strength. He swung her up onto his shoulders and loped away.
‘This is preposterous behaviour!’ Ashley exclaimed, but her voice was drowned out by the cheers that went up from the clansmen who were saved from fighting against the armed might of the Mackenzie clan with their bare hands.
CHAPTER II
‘I need to go back to the farmhouse,’ Ashley said, as Tristan took a different path.
‘Later,’ He said. ‘Right now I need to find the horse I had tethered here this morning.’
Ashley said nothing. Her mind was numb. It seemed a long while before Tristan found his horse and they galloped away, Ashley with a growing knot of dread in the pit of her stomach. She had been warned not to brave Scotland alone, particularly the area around Inverness, where it was said people were still rooted in old rivalries, but she had been adamant and gone there, even daring to attend the Games by herself. She wondered what had happened to Julie and hoped she was safe.
‘Tristan Kincaid!’ Ashley shouted into his ear as he rode. ‘Where are you taking me?’
‘To a place where you will be safe, and where I will have you in my power – a weapon to use against your clansmen who even now, might be realising they owe you their loyalty.’
‘I know nothing about you. Who are you?’
‘I told you who I am. I’m Tristan Kincaid. Chief of the Kincaid clan.’
‘That cannot be true. You are much too young to be chief!’ Ashley was both incredulous and mocking.
‘And who are you to decide how old one should be to be chief? I h
ave proved that I am worthy.’
‘Ashley was silent. They were riding along the Loch Ness – the magnetic beauty of the lake serving successfully to distract her from the events of the day. She felt like she was drifting through a dream.
‘I dreamed about this place,’ Ashley said sadly, ‘I dreamed about being captivated, but never held captive. Will you release me soon?’
Tristan said nothing, galloping faster over the moors. Twilight gave way to darkness and above them a silver moon sailed majestically into the sky, accompanied by a million stars. Ashley felt suddenly very alone. She had lost her mother and now her father had chosen to ignore her. She felt hot tears on her cheeks and wiped them briskly away, as Tristan slowed his horse down to a canter when they entered the battlements of his castle.
Ashley had heard of Lennox Castle, but riding up towards it, she saw that the descriptions didn’t do it justice. She wondered if Lydell had a castle like this, and if she would ever earn the right to walk through its doors as his daughter.
Two stable hands came running up to take Tristan’s horse as he slid off. He swung Ashley down and set her on her feet, but weariness overcame her and she swayed. Tristan barked out orders and a young girl came out and led Ashley inside.
‘Laren will take you to your room where you may wash and then join me for supper.’
It was an order, but it could have been a homely invitation as well. Ashley said nothing, and followed Laren meekly. When she felt stronger, she would figure out a way to run away, she decided.
The castle was big and cold. As she entered the great hall she saw the Kincaid crest on the wall and a display of arms and shields. Tristan strode in behind her reeling off instructions to Laren. He spoke with the lilt that was so charming in a Scotsman, and in different circumstances Ashley might have found herself irresistibly drawn to him. Her initial fascination as she watched him at the Games had worn off somewhat with the shock at discovering she had a different father, and apprehension over being taken captive.
She was led up a flight of steps to a draughty room where Laren filled a bath with hot water and stood by with scented soap and towels.
‘Thank you Laren,’ Ashley said, smiling weakly, hoping to find an ally in the girl – someone who would help her to escape from Tristan. ‘I wish to bathe alone.’
‘I have been instructed not to leave you,’ Laren answered firmly.
‘Why? Is your master afraid I will run away? Where can I go to on these vast moors? I don’t know my way about anyway.’
Laren said nothing and held out the soap. Ashley shrugged off her clothes under Laren’s eagle eye and slipped into the bath. The water lost heat quite rapidly, and Ashley bathed quickly and climbed out. She shivered as she wiped herself down and then reached for the clothes she had been wearing all day, but Laren directed her attention to a fresh plaid skirt, blouse and underclothes, and told her to put them on.
‘To whom do these belong?’ Ashley asked, still shivering, drawing the towel tighter around her body.
‘Do not ask questions,’ Laren said, ‘And hurry.’
The clothes were just a trifle loose, but Ashley put them on, and Laren threw her a shawl to wear about her shoulders.
‘Come with me,’ Laren directed, and Ashley followed her back down the stone steps and into a magnificent room with a great wooden table running down the length of it. There was a fire burning in the grate. Tristan was there already, washed, scrubbed and handsome – his hair falling about his shoulders. The light from the candelabra and the fire cast a glow on his skin and for a moment Ashley allowed her tired eyes to dwell on, and appreciate his magnificence.
‘It will just be you and me tonight, I’m afraid,’ Tristan said, guiding her to the seat on his right. He looked searchingly at Ashley, noting her tired eyes and pallor.
‘Are you feeling alright?’ Tristan asked.
‘No. Not really,’ Ashley answered, but the sight of the food on the table cheered her slightly as she realised she had had nothing to eat since breakfast that morning.
‘Haggis, Neeps and Tatties,’ Tristan said, ‘a simple, wholesome, Scottish meal.’
‘Thank you,’ Ashley answered, and filled her plate. She ate ravenously, and Tristan watched her, growing more fascinated.
‘I noticed you at the Games,’ he said, pouring her some wine.
Ashley took a large gulp from the glass, feeling the liquid warm her body. ‘Oh, did you indeed?’
‘Yes. And I noticed that you noticed me,’ Tristan said, pleased to observe that the wine brought some colour into her cheeks. She was like a wilted flower that was coming back to life.
‘I was pleased when you joined the dancing. I wanted nothing more than to dance with you.’ Tristan said, quite matter-of-factly.
Ashley said nothing. She was looking at the Cranachan.
‘Whipped cream, honey, a dash of whiskey and raspberries,’ Tristan said, describing the dessert.
‘I know what the ingredients are,’ Ashley said coldly, ‘My mother made it for me quite frequently.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Tristan said, and placed his fingers on hers.
Ashley drew her hand away and placed it on her lap. ‘No you’re not sorry at all, Tristan Kincaid. You are playing a game, just like you did this morning. You play to win and I am likely just a pawn.’
She pushed back her chair. ‘I think I will go to sleep.’
‘What, and not have any Cranachan? Come, eat a little.’ Tristan coaxed, and Ashley softened, but only because she was still hungry.
Tristan watched her as she ate, noting the dimples that came and went as she chewed, her red gold hair in a fiery halo about her head, and her cupid’s bow lips.
‘Why are you staring at me?’ Ashley asked.
‘I am assessing you. You do realise we are alone and you are my prisoner… and I can and I will do as I please with you.’ Tristan spoke in the same matter-of-fact manner that he had used earlier.
‘You are used to getting what you want.’
‘I work hard for what I want and when I get it, I enjoy it.’
‘Do you think you worked hard for me?’
‘No. You came easy. One of the many bonuses of being chief of a clan.’
‘You are being absolutely serious, are you not?’ Ashley asked, with growing consternation. Now that the meal was almost over, she was afraid. If only the circumstances were different, she thought.
‘Yes, I am serious.’ Tristan pushed his chair back and rose from the table. Ashley however, remained seated.
‘Come here,’ Tristan said, holding out his hand.
‘And if I refuse? What then?’
‘Then you will compel me to force you to obey me.’
‘How?’
Tristan lifted her out of the chair and set her on her feet before him.
‘You are being boorish,’ Ashley remarked.
‘You speak just like an Englishwoman.’
For some reason, Ashley was insulted. ‘Look,’ she said, ‘I am not attracted to you. I cannot do as you command. I may be your prisoner, but you can’t make me do anything against my will!’ Her eyes flashed as she spoke and Tristan was captivated. He pulled her against him and looked deep into her eyes. They were a deep green, like the summer grass on the moor. Ashley caught her breath, visibly affected by Tristan’s proximity.
‘You will not resist me,’ he whispered, brushing his lips against hers with surprising gentleness. Ashley felt a spark, like lightening, surge through her body, but she resisted the urge to respond to his caress. Instead she pulled away. The action only served to excite Tristan. He pressed his lips down harder, and pushed his tongue into Ashley’s mouth. She felt her self control drain away rapidly, but rallied quickly and tore her lips away from his.
‘You cannot do this!’ she exclaimed, ‘You should be ashamed of yourself, treating a lady so shabbily.’
‘You travelled alone to Scotland. Are you really a lady?’ He taunted.
‘I only came
here alone, because I had nobody to come with me. Perhaps I acted in haste. Let me go, please. I cannot give myself to someone I have not had a chance to fall in love with.’
Tristan released her, and she felt a stab of inexplicable regret. If only the circumstances had been different, she thought for the millionth time that day.
CHAPTER III
Ashley woke up disoriented and wondered what madness had possessed her when she decided to make the journey to discover her heritage, and thanked the stars that delivered her from Tristan’s amorous advances the night before.
Dawn had broken and she padded across to the window, standing on tiptoe to take in the view. Her window overlooked a courtyard and she saw servants speeding back and forth about their early morning tasks. She washed and dressed in the clothes Laren had laid out for her, and when she emerged from her room she decided to go down and explore the castle by herself and see if there was any way of escape. Laren was nowhere in sight, neither was Tristan. Ashley briefly scanned the dining room and the Great Hall, and then went back up the stone stairway and took the passage that led away from the room she had spent the night in, gently pushing open doors and looking into the rooms one by one. They were all ornately furnished with carved chairs and tapestries; elaborate four poster beds and woven carpets. Yet there was a certain warmth about them that surprised her. She left the rooms and retraced her steps back to the staircase, looking more closely at the portraits that lined the walls. There was one likeness of a man who looked remarkably like Tristan, and one of Tristan himself - majestic, painted against a backdrop of mountains, kilted but bare-chested, carrying a claymore. There was a raw, earthy strength about him and Ashley found she couldn’t tear her eyes away from his muscled arms and firm chest. He wore his kilt low on his narrow hips and Ashley blushed as she looked at his sporran, imagining what lay beneath. Tristan’s virility was something that he strutted openly. It was apparent in his bearing, his eyes, his body and his unequalled strength.
