Finding My Highlander

by Aleigha Siron

  “To tell the truth, Kendrick, I dinnae believe she has ever outright lied to us. She avoided answering our questions at first, but if what she tells you is possible, you cannae blame her. From the beginning, Struan called her a witch. That must have frightened the poor lass. Look how she charged after him following the incident at the river when he accused her of witchcraft again. Verra brave, dinnae you agree.”

  “You dinnae believe all the nonsense about witchery do you, Rabbie?”

  Rabbie tilted his head, appraising his cousin and mulling over the question. “If they had the power people claimed, then why are they always among the poor and wretched, or those gifted with the healing arts? If they possessed such powers, why wouldn’t they be able to escape punishment?” He paused, then shook his head, “Nae, it makes no sense.”

  They stood in thoughtful silence, looking out the long, mullioned windows facing the back of the keep. In the distance, the ocean appeared as a gray, heaving beast in the silver light. “You ken, Rabbie, for generations stories have persisted about the stone circles and magic surrounding them. People still firmly believe in the fairy folk, though I dinnae. Still, with all my travels and university education I ken more exists in this world than the sages can explain. She presents the most fantastic story I’ve ever heard. Yet, I cannae find another explanation for what I’ve seen with my own eyes.”

  “Mayhap you could use some distraction while you consider the lass’s story. A guard from the northern borders rode in less than an hour ago. He spotted Camerons reiving our livestock again. Should we take a few men to ride out and investigate?”

  The suggestion offered the perfect excuse to gain space and perspective. “Aye, a day or two away from the keep would be good. Perhaps on the way back we could shoot a few deer to add to the winter stores. The exertion and fresh air will help clear my thoughts. Ready the men. I’ll speak with Andra before I meet you at the stables.”

  When Kendrick returned to Andra’s room, her disheveled state flattened him. The sight of her lying on the bed crying into her pillow, pounding her wee fists against the bed, smashed any remaining reluctance he felt about accepting her story as truth, however unbelievable.

  Sitting on the side of the bed, he rubbed his hand across her back. “Dinnae fash yourself so, lass, you’ll become ill if you go on like this.” She didn’t respond at first, then rolled over and looked at him with puffy, red eyes, and a drippy nose. He scooped her into his arms. A powerful urge to protect and possess her swept through him. As much as he needed his next breath, he needed this woman. He would never let her go.

  “Och, you’ll be the death of me, you ken. I needed time to digest the information you showed me.” She curled into his embrace like a wee bairn.

  “Please tell me you believe me. I swear on my families’ souls, I am telling the truth. Don’t leave me locked up and alone,” she whispered.

  He took her chin between his thumb and finger and lifted her face. “What you’ve told me is beyond anything I could imagine, and I want us to take our time and talk about it further.” He kissed the top of her head and wrapped his arms tightly around her. “But first, I must leave for a while. I will not lock you in your room. Try to mind yourself and dinnae cause any trouble until I return. Just for a few days, please refrain from your morning exercises.”

  His lips lightly brushed hers and he laid her back on the bed. “You’re exhausted, rest a while, Andra. Keep what you’ve told me to yourself until I return. We’ll sort this out, I give you my word.” He wanted to stretch out beside her and eliminate these thoughts from both of their minds with a frantic, bracing coupling, a heated passion that would relieve her fears and calm them both, but it must wait until later.

  She clung to his fingers, looking up at him, then slowly rolled to her side. “You’re right. I’m exhausted.”

  * * *

  When the noon hour arrived without Andra coming to the great hall, Beatrice went to her room to investigate. No one responded to her knock so she gingerly opened the door. Andra rolled over and rubbed her face. Sleep had not caused the red blotches that spotted her cheeks and rimmed her swollen eyes.

  “Och, are you not well, dear? Should I call Jane to tend you?” her voice rippled over Andra like a cool wind.

  “No, I will be fine.” She looked out the window at a sun high in the sky. “My apologies for sleeping so long into the day.”

  Already aware of the previous morning’s events in the bailey, Beatrice suspected Andra and Kendrick had not yet resolved their conflict, or at least not to the lass’ satisfaction. Anyone could see the desire that flamed between her son and this woman. As their mother, Beatrice knew her sons well and though generally kind and thoughtful in dealings with members of his clan, Kendrick’s temper could be quick and fierce if challenged.

  She admired the woman. Andra appeared to be of solid character, fortitude, and intelligence. Her son’s strength would not subjugate this woman’s character into oblivion. Kendrick needed a partner capable of standing beside him as he provided for and protected their clan, and Andra could be that woman. Beatrice did not fret over the young woman’s lack of family or dowry.

  As a mother, she might not directly interfere with her son’s lives, but a gentle shove here or there would not be amiss. Beatrice sat beside her and smoothed the hair from her forehead. “Tell me what troubles you? Has Kendrick upset you?”

  “Yes. No. Yes, but I probably upset him far more. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be discussing the laird.” A sheepish expression flitted over her face and revealed her discomfort speaking about Kendrick with his mother. There was very little Beatrice missed or failed to hear about, but she’d keep her counsel for now.

  “Let us get you up and dressed for the day. A little food in your stomach would do you good. A walk in the gardens always helps me sort my thoughts and ‘tis a lovely day to be out of the keep.”

  The children bounded into the room, followed by Isabel. “Andra,” Kyle cried, jumping on the bed. “Why are ye still abed? Dae ye feel poorly?”

  “No, I’m fine. I think I’ve turned into a bed bug and don’t want to leave my covers,”

  He made a face and a retching sound.

  “You better watch out or the bed bug will get you.” She tickled him and his laughter peeled into the air. Beatrice noticed Andra’s mood lighten when the boy’s little hand sought hers, as he always did when in her presence.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Strolling into the kitchen’s vegetable and herb gardens, Andra came to an area where Alith and Jane busied themselves harvesting plants.

  “Greetings, m’lady, how fare you this lovely day?” Jane stood and wiped the dirt from her hands before reaching to assist Alith to her feet.

  After exchanging a few pleasantries, Jane took her basket of clippings to tie up and hang from the kitchen rafters for drying.

  “Will you lend your arm to an old woman and help me to yon bench. I enjoy warming these tired bones in the sun,” Alith said. Taking Andra’s arm, she led her out of the herb section, around a large tree to a bench on the west side of the keep. They sat in pleasant silence, soaking up the restfulness of the garden and the sun’s warmth. Alith patted her weathered hand over Andra’s, “You sorely miss your home and kin, even these dimming eyes can see that ‘tis so.”

  “My father’s passing was recent. I do miss him greatly.” Glancing over the gardens and to the hills beyond tears filled her eyes.

  “He was a good man, your father?” Alith asked, hesitantly.

  “Oh yes, he was the best of men, strong, intelligent, and thoughtful. He always put my needs and concerns above his own. No woman could ever hope for a kinder father. He taught me all I know.”

  “And your mother, did she teach you as well?”

  “My mother died when I was seven years of age. It is sometimes difficult to remember her. Those memories that remain are of a beautiful, gentle woman.” Andra sighed and dropped her chin.

  Alith’s withered hand
patted hers comfortingly, rubbing across her father’s ring. “‘Tis a heavy weight you carry. I am here for you, dear one. I hope you’ll sit with me when your losses feel too heavy. I’m a verra good listener and would wish to lift your sorrows if you’ll allow it.”

  “That is so kind, Alith. You were correct about the MacLeans. They have been very considerate to my plight while taking me into their home.” She swiped at the tears on her cheeks.

  “Och, ‘tis true. They are verra inviting to those who have lost their way in the world.”

  “Have you always lived with the MacLeans, Alith?”

  “To be sure, it seems as though I have. As a young woman, I had me own home and family, but ‘twas verra long ago. They’re all gone now. I first came to Ruadhstone Castle as a young widow who had recently lost both husband and son in a war. The laird’s grandmother was a new bride at the time. We were inseparable as bairns, you ken, as she had fostered with my family. We grew verra close, dear as any family, though not of the same blood. When I arrived, late in the last months of her first, difficult pregnancy, it seemed the natural choice to stay and assist her. My presence aided her and she provided the sanctuary and solace I so desperately needed.” Alith’s milky eyes misted over as she slipped into memories of long ago. Andra and Alith sat in quiet companionship, the soft breeze ruffling leaves and bending down the grassy hills. Andra had fallen in love with this rough, wild place and the people who lived here.

  Eventually, Alith excused herself to take her rest while Andra remained in the back garden. How quickly she had filled every aspect of her life with assumed duties where she found herself constantly in the presence of others. This brief moment of solitude felt deliciously revitalizing.

  Suddenly, Vera ran through the postern door in the lower wall and Andra’s quiet retreat abruptly ended. “Help, oh please, you must come right away, Kyle has had an accident down by the loch.”

  Andra jumped and ran to her, “Should we not call for help?”

  “Nae, there is no time. You must come quickly, please.” Vera clutched at her hand and dragged her to the gate she had just entered.

  The hairs on Andra’s arms prickled, and a shiver ran down her spine. She set aside the concern that niggled at the back of her mind, dismissing it as fear for Kyle. She ran as quickly as possible. She hated the way the excessive clothing and long skirts hindered her speed.

  They ran along a dirt path, through a circle of trees and behind the back of a low mounding hill that led to the loch. They seemed to take the long way around, but she didn’t raise a question as they rushed ahead. Suddenly, there were horses speeding toward them. Andra couldn’t tell where they’d come from, but released a sigh of relief that help had arrived. Then she saw Senga and Isabel gagged and tied, held captive on two of the horses. Andra opened her mouth to scream when someone threw a blanket over her head and cruel hands tossed her over a horse knocking the breath from her lungs.

  She struggled against her captor. Arms like steel bands gripped her tightly and an unfamiliar voice snarled, “Settle yourself, wench, and I won’t knock you out. I’ll order those young lasses’ throats cut where we stand unless you cooperate and remain quiet.”

  She kicked and twisted and tried to scream, but the blanket covering her face muffled her voice. The man bent over her and bit her shoulder so hard she was certain he’d drawn blood, even through the blanket and her clothing. As though that wasn’t enough to subdue her, he punched the side of her head. “I said to hold your wheesht, bitch. Dinnae push me to further injury. I prefer you alive, but dead would work as well.”

  Bile rose in the back of Andra’s throat. Attempting to calm herself, she drew gulps of much needed air into her lungs. That caused her to hyperventilate, and she feared she might faint until Vera’s panicked voice penetrated her terror. She slowed her breath as she concentrated on the woman’s words.

  “Why did you grab the other girls? They weren’t part of the plan. They are no use to you. You need to take me with you.” Vera did not mention Isabel’s relationship with Kendrick. If their captives didn’t recognize her, that information might save the girls. Then again, it might not. Who could reason out the thoughts of a man willing to kidnap, gag, and bind innocent women and girls?

  He barked his reply, “My plans don’t concern you. Go back to the castle. Make excuses for their absence. When Kendrick returns and you ken how many men are forming for the search, go to the meeting place in the grove outside the village. A man will wait there for your information.”

  Vera’s voice squeaked anxiously. “Nae, nae, you mustn’t leave me here. Lorne may send out men tonight when the girls don’t return, especially if Kendrick is not back. They will suspect me if I try to leave the castle at night. I cannae stay. You promised to take me if I brought the woman to you.”

  “You make certain they don’t know of the young’ens absence. If you dinnae do as I tell you, Vera, you’ll have more to fear from me than from them, and you ken it. Now go, do as I command, or I’ll kill you here.”

  “Ride fast men,” the brute commanded. The horse under Andra spun in a circle and sprinted ahead. They rode for a long time at breakneck speeds. She had no idea the direction in which they headed or who had captured her. Why had Vera done this? She could not possibly think to get away with it. Kendrick would throw her in the dungeon or hang her, not necessarily because she had lured Andra away, but because these brutes had taken his sister.

  Think Andra, think, and stay calm. The words her judo instructor had drummed into her head entered her jumbled thoughts. If you are ever taken, stay calm, pay attention to your direction, smells, sounds, the direction of the sun beating down, they all provide clues that will help you escape. Remember the imperative: stay alive.

  How could she think clearly or identify her surroundings trussed up and blinded? The image of the girls gagged and bound helped focus her mind. She must at least appear composed. Grappling with the situation she realized one shoe was missing. She didn’t know where the shoe had dropped, but used her foot to knock the other off. Her captor either didn’t notice or didn’t care. She hoped someone would find them and they would mark their passing. Kendrick would come. He would find them. She had no doubt.

  Andra tried to discern their direction by what little light penetrated the blanket over her head. But could only determine that the light had dimmed. She also realized the air had cooled significantly, but that could mean anything from a sudden shift in Highland weather to them entering a dense forest. Every part of her ached miserably, especially the bite on her shoulder. Terrible infections resulted from a human bite and this man smelled none too clean.

  “Sir, can we stop for a respite?” she mumbled through the fabric. He didn’t respond. “I must relieve myself and I’m certain the younger girls need to as well.”

  “We’ll rest when I say. And if you soil me, I swear I’ll beat you senseless.” He sounded as though he would enjoy beating her.

  A while later the odor of cook fires and men talking entered her awareness. The horse stopped and her captor threw her roughly to the ground. She scrambled to her feet at the same time a hand yanked the blanket off her head.

  “Let’s have a look at the creature that has captured the interest of the great Laird MacLean,” his tone hostile and acerbic. He walked around her like a wolf stalking its prey.

  “Interesting,” he said, rubbing his chin with a huge, thick hand. Long nails caked with black debris scratched at a few days’ growth of whiskers. “You aren’t what one would expect, not the laird’s type if you get me meaning.”

  She didn’t. The specimen in front of her lacked every manner of decency, from the filth about his person to his rude and cruel behavior.

  “A bit long in the tooth mayhap. Still, you are a comely enough wench. What’s your name?”

  Andra stood straight and did her best to quell the trembling in her limbs. Behind her, a chorus of bawdy catcalls, whistles, and crude comments let her know the girls were some
where to her left. She heard one of them whimper and turned in their direction. A rough hand snatched her hair and pulled her head back.

  “I asked you a question, woman. The lassies are none of your concern.” The man stood a little over six feet, leanly muscled with long, greasy, black hair and eyes so dark she could not discern a pupil. He reeked of whisky, sweat, and horse. She didn’t think he had bathed in months. Thin lips opened in a snarl as he rolled his tongue over yellowed teeth.

  When he released her hair, she stood straight and squared her shoulders. “My name is Lady Andra. Who are you and why did you take us?”

  “Well now, aren’t you the demanding one. Did I give you leave to question me, bitch?”

  Assuming that was a rhetorical question, she chose not to respond. Before she could blink, he smacked her across the face.

  “Why did you hit me?” Andra rubbed the red welt already swelling on her cheek.

  “Hmmm. You speak English with a most peculiar accent. Hear tell you claim to be a Cameron.” He pinched her chin between his thumb and finger. “You dinnae look familiar to me. Who are your kin? You dinnae resemble any Cameron clans I’m familiar with—a bit too much polish,” he hissed as the back of his hand trailed across her cheek and down her throat. His eyes undressed her with a downward sweep.

  She stepped back, “I have no kin,” she responded, breaking through his vile revelry. “I am not from here. What is your name, and what do you want with us?”

  He puffed out his chest, and flicked her chin from his hand. “I am Laird Cormag Cameron, and you, my pretty, are me bait. I hear that The MacLean has taken a special interest in you. Though why he’d be interested in a woman with no kin to swell his ranks is a curious question.”

  He stepped closer, his face inches from hers, and his repulsive breath filled her nose. “Dae you warm his bed, lave his cock with your tongue?” he flicked his tongue against her cheek.

  She barely repressed a gag. God, she prayed this beast didn’t hark back to some distant, black sheep relative. He repulsed her in every way. There was certainly no thread of resemblance, and Cameron was a common enough name, even in the eighteenth century. They couldn’t all be related.