“Did you take the girls to the MacLean’s hiding place in the hills?”
“I don’t know of any hiding place.”
“Cormag says differently.”
“And you would rely on the word of that worthless whoreson, piece of shit?” she brashly retorted. Fear drove her anger to the surface.
He raised his brows. “That’s hardly appropriate language for a lady.”
“Even you won’t deny my rude assessment of Cormag Cameron. Besides, I doubt many ladies would address you with flowery speech while you held a knife to their throat.”
“There you are wrong. Most ladies would weep, beg, and attempt to ply their womanly wiles. I can see why a warrior might be intrigued by you.”
“No one is intrigued by me.” She kept her eyes glued to his and exerted every effort to prevent her lips from quivering and her hands from shaking.
He stepped back, re-sheathing the knife. Waving a dismissive hand, his voice softened. “The girls are of little importance. Sit. Perhaps you would care for some wine. It’s most unfortunate you had to witness that distressing bit of violence earlier today. Cormag is a barbarian.”
He offered her wine, while slandering Cormag after holding a knife at her throat. This was a good re-enactment of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hide. Nevertheless, she sat on the stool offered.
“Why do you associate with him if you hold him in such disregard?” Conversation about his motives was the last thing she should pursue, but she couldn’t help herself.
“He serves my purposes. Sometimes we must meet with the devil to accomplish our greater goals.
“My men are scouring the woods and I have sent scouts to learn how many will be coming to your rescue. Then I will set my trap and finally put an end to those worthless MacLean brothers.”
“What is your complaint with the MacLeans?”
He abruptly turned and slammed his fists on the table, his face a twisted mask of fury. His erratic mood swings suggested a mind as unhinged as Cormag’s. He simply possessed a bit more spit and polish around the edges.
“My complaint is that they breathe air into their lungs. My complaint is that they are Highlanders, the worst scum God ever placed on this earth.”
Something in his posturing suggested his complaint had to do with the ugly scar that marred his otherwise flawless features. Even though she should not voice an observation, her tongue rattled on anyway. “He has bested you in some fashion and you seethe with the need for retribution, even to the point of aligning with the likes of Cormag.”
He snapped his spine straight, squared his shoulders. Andra could see his fight to rein in a volatile temper. Waving his hand at the expensive rings on her fingers, the diamond studs in her ears and the exquisite cross at her neck, he barked, “No ordinary woman would possess such riches. Are you of noble blood, my lady? What is the great secret of your heritage and family that you so vigorously withhold the information? From what Cameron clan do you descend, and from whom are you hiding?”
Here we go again. The endless questions for which she had no answers anyone would believe. She could see the hatred in his eyes, and this time it did not soften. Maybe she should tell the truth and let him think what he would.
“My family is dead, I am from far away, and only recently came to be at the MacLean’s castle as they offered me protection and shelter while I am in Scotland.”
He reached his hand forward and attempted to touch the cross at her neck. She slapped his hand away and covered it with her own. Strong fingers twisted into the front of her gown and pulled her to her feet, he yanked her against his hard chest. The other hand squeezed her upper arm like a vise.
“You dare strike at me! What brash behavior. You forget yourself, my lady. You are my captive, and I will take or touch what I please.”
Andra lifted her chin boldly. The shock of her defiant manner registered briefly on the colonel’s face, and as quickly, he shuttered his emotions.
“You hold yourself with considerable boldness and condescension for a captive. What could possibly engender such arrogance under the circumstances? Perhaps you mistakenly believe some relation or protector able to exact retribution on your behalf will arrive shortly. Or some errant knight will charge in to secure your rescue. If so, let me disabuse you of that notion. After I have dispatched the MacLean brothers and that miscreant carrying your same surname, you will be mine to handle in any fashion I choose.”
His scrutiny, while he delivered this speech in a calm, superior tone, filled her with an urge to scream and rail against his smug self-assurance. Instead, she repressed the rage that floated under a veneer of serene complacency and refused to flinch at his marred countenance, which he now presented full-faced daring her to recoil.
Unfortunately, she could not control the slight tremor in her hand gripping the cross under the pressure of his hold. She gripped it so tightly it punctured her skin and a trickle of blood slipped between her fingers, but she would not release it to this man. She wanted to spit in his face, but knew he would kill her on the spot. Steadily, she held her focus on his face while clamping her mouth shut, grinding her teeth to hold in a sharp retort. From this moment on, she vowed to keep her wits, her emotions, and her tongue firmly under control.
The trickle of blood seeping between their joined fists diverted the challenging scrutiny of his eyes. “Ah, I see now why so many seem to hold you in considerable regard.” He released her hand and appeared uncertain what to do with the blood that marred his palm. He withdrew a pristine handkerchief from his jacket pocket while continuing in that annoyingly confident tone. “You do not cower when most would or certainly should. You do not flinch away from my countenance.”
Now he’d shocked her at his casual mention of a scar that he hid with posturing or blatantly displayed to garner a response. A response he would no doubt find loathsome and worthy of reprisal.
“You are clearly a woman in need of a strong man, one capable of curbing your willful behavior.” He released her arm, likely sprouting bruises from his tight grip, and slid the back of his hand along her cheek. His voice became soft yet full of venom, “I will enjoy taking you from Kendrick. Perhaps I’ll let him live long enough to watch me claim your body. It would sweeten my revenge.”
How could it be possible that she’d arrived in this desolate place and now had two vile cretins vying to claim and destroy her for revenge on the man she’d fallen for like a lovesick teenager? Andra wanted to curse this lunatic to his face, but for the moment, he was the lesser of two very evil men she needed to escape.
A loud commotion outside the colonel’s tent announced Cormag’s approach. “I’ll have that woman now, Colonel. You gave me your word that she’d be mine. I deserve my revenge, and I’ll pry the information from her you seek. Kendrick stole from me and murdered the woman who should have been mine. Upon your word, we agreed I’d have that fancy piece you dally with in exchange for my allegiance and in compensation for what MacLean took from me.”
“Leave my tent, Cormag. I’ll let you know when you can have the woman. Right now she is entertaining me.” He gave Andra a lopsided, grimacing smile, his voice lowered to a snarl. “You see how I protect you from that filth. Be assured you would not find that mongrel’s attentions satisfying, and I fully expect your compliant behavior in exchange for my continued protection.”
He hissed out a very frustrated breath and continued as though she had faded away and he was ruminating to himself. “The man plagues my patience. He holds such a festering hatred over his thwarted desire to claim Kendrick’s dead wife, already gone many years, as his own. Foolishly, he believes his hatred and revenge takes precedence over mine. Eventually his usefulness will wane, and he’ll come to an unpleasant end.”
Andra suspected Cormag grew close to that end because he knew far too much about the colonel’s questionable tactics and ongoing plunder of the area for his own gain. She couldn’t think of an appropriate response and dreaded to think what entertainment the co
lonel expected from her so she held her tongue.
“Lucas,” he called. When the young man entered the tent, he threw her toward him. “Take her to her tent and be certain she is securely bound. Keep two guards on her, with strict orders to let no one else in, especially Cormag.”
* * *
Ushering her into the tent—her prison, he apologized. “I’m sorry you find yourself in the middle of this mess. If I could help you further, I would.”
“Why? Any aid you give me puts you at great risk. Why do you help me?” His kindness baffled her when every other man had treated her with open distain or lechery.
A twinkle glinted in his eye, “I don’t know. Perhaps you remind me of my older sister.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “Her mum was a Scot too, God rest their souls.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.” Surprisingly, she truly did feel sorrow, as much for herself as for him.
He observed her as though he’d just discovered an odd zoo specimen. “Can I trust you, my lady?”
“If you think to ask me to promise that I will not attempt escape at every opportunity, don’t bother. For your previous kindness, I won’t lie to you.”
He tilted his head in observation of her. “You are a most remarkable woman. If I leave these bindings loose would you give me your word not to try an escape until I tell you the moment is right?” She started to respond negatively when he held up his hand.
“It’s anyone’s guess how things might turn in the next few hours or days. I would recommend you wait for your rescuers. Another botched attempt at escape would probably result in serious injury, torture, or death to you. If something should happen to me, then certainly take every opportunity to escape. Otherwise, if you can wait, I am certain your friends will come. If you were mine, I’d move heaven and earth to reach you.”
His words surprised her. “How old are you, Lucas?”
“I am soon one and twenty, my lady.” He smiled sheepishly.
“Are you married yet?” She didn’t know why she asked such a personal question, but his kindness spurred her on. Talking seemed to calm the potent fear that bubbled through her veins.
“Not yet. I must earn my position in her majesty’s army first. When I can provide a proper home for my family I shall seek a wife. I hope she possesses your strength of character.”
A sad smile lit her face. Chivalry still exists, Dad. “I hope you are successful in your efforts, Lucas. You are a gentleman and deserve to find a good woman for your wife. Don’t let the likes of these men twist you into the ugliness that possesses and distorts them. They will poison your soul. You must seek some other position as soon as you are able.”
“Thank you for those thoughtful words,” he smiled sheepishly. “I’ll bind your hands in front so you can reach that dirk stuck in the side of your vest should you find the need to thwart the less savory men in camp.”
A shocked expression crossed her face.
“Don’t fear. I won’t take it from you. Wait, as I’ve said. You’ll know when the time is right to make a move. In the meantime, I’ll do my best to protect you.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Kendrick came across a place where, despite the recent downpour, a number of horses had recently churned the mud. “Rabbie, Struan, let’s spread out through these trees. These hoof marks indicate a recent skirmish happened here. Keep your eyes on the canopy as well; they may have spotters or archers hidden in the branches.”
Maintaining the point position Kendrick moved cautiously, Rabbie and Struan pulled wide to either side of him. The rest of the men spread out in an inverted v-formation behind them, weaving carefully through the trees.
Another half-hour had passed when Kendrick spotted a lone rider on a hill to their left. With a flick of his wrist, he directed one of his men to pursue the man. Unfortunately, the man escaped, lost in the forest before Kendrick’s man could apprehend him.
He signaled to Rabbie and Struan. “They are waiting for us. I have a bad feeling about the trap being set. ‘Tis certain they ken we are coming.”
One of their fore-guard sentries returned to report that he had spotted suspicious movement in the trees not far ahead. Rabbie pulled out and headed in that direction with Struan flanking him. Kendrick kept moving forward with the rest of the men. “Watch for arrows.” He called after them.
“Rabbie! Rabbie! Oh, thank God you have come.” Isabel dropped out of the tree branches, and Senga followed behind her.
Rabbie couldn’t believe his eyes. How had the girls managed to get here, in a tree in the middle of the forest? He gave a sharp whistle, calling Kendrick and the rest of the men to their location.
Rabbie had never felt such relief in his life as he reached up and pulled the quaking girl into his arms. He held her face and kissed her forehead. “Thank the saints, we’ve found you, sweet Isabel. Are you injured?” He rubbed his hands down her shivering arms.
Struan reached to Senga and pulled her onto his lap just as Kendrick charged out of the trees.
“Isabel! Thank God, we’ve found you. How did you get in that tree? Where is Andra?” Relief over his sister’s return to the safety of her family’s embrace warred with his anxiety that Andra was not with the girls.
“Oh Kendrick, my eyes have never been so happy to see me brother. Andra saved us. One of the Sassenach guards set a horse aside for us and Andra managed our escape. When the men came close to catching us she put us here, gave me her bow and rode away to distract them from our hiding place.” Isabel sobbed and clung to his hand while refusing to release her hold on Rabbie.
Kendrick dismounted. “Hold your wheesht, Isabel. You are safe now. We have you, but you must tell us everything you can about your captors and their location.”
The men conferred over various strategies to confront their nemesis and retrieve Andra. They had placed the girls under an oiled tarp by the tree, given them ale and dried meat to revive their strength, and placed two men to guard them.
“Saints alive, that woman will surely be the death of me.” Kendrick clenched and unclenched his fists while pacing a path through the forest’s carpet of debris. “If any of those bastards have harmed her, they will suffer in ways they cannae imagine.”
“The lass is as brave as any of our warriors. She’ll survive and we’ll get her back, cousin.” Rabbie offered assurances to Kendrick. How he wished his cousin’s veiled optimism would come to fruition. Knowing the men who held her, unimaginable images filtered through his thoughts even as he strategized over the best course of action to pursue.
Rabbie’s fleeting, worried expression conveyed he shared his concerns. Despite an urgent desire to surge ahead, a show of control directed Kendrick’s actions as they planned for the coming battle. This was why his men trusted him completely; he would not allow his emotions to interfere in battle. He presented them with a cool, self-possessed leader, fierce in the face of adversity. His men would follow him into any skirmish without reservation.
Struan had remained quiet, his bulky arms clamped across his chest. “We need to send the lasses back to the castle first. They cannae be put in further danger.”
“Aye, Struan, you will stay with me. Rabbie, I want you to escort the girls. Take six men with you. If you encounter any allies who you would trust with your life, release the lasses to their protection for the remainder of their journey to the castle, and then return here with whomever they can spare. Once a scout returns with information on the enemy’s camp, I’ll leave one man at this point who can direct you to our location. I ken we are in for quite a battle, and I do not want to go in blind.” Unfortunately, Kendrick could barely restrain the urge to rush headlong into the trap he knew awaited them.
“One of the scouts should be returning shortly with information. You have the right of it. Those bastards are laying a trap.” Struan looked toward the road expectantly.
Kendrick nodded, “That is the way of both Richardson and Cormag—set the trap, reel them in, and then slaughter everyo
ne. They are ruthless to the core, and they both bear me a grudge, however unfounded their grievances. We cannot expect any quarter from them, and I’ll give them none in return.”
Pacing across the clearing while carefully observing the surrounding hills and trees, Kendrick continued. “Cormag grows increasingly unstable in his hatred after Kirstin’s death, and Richardson will never forgive the scar I dealt him, even if I gave it in battle, and he would have done the same to me if he’d had the chance. Besides, I am certain they are the men who burned out those crofters where Andra found the bairns.”
Rabbie interjected, “No doubt they had hoped those poor souls could provide information about our cave. That hidden refuge would provide one more shelter for their incursions into the Highlands. You ken that Cormag has long coveted Ruadhstone castle, and Richardson probably imagines he’ll claim it for an army outpost. Its strategic location in the Highlands would provide a boon from which to engage in their nefarious activities.”
“Aye,” Kendrick nodded, “but our allies are strong, and we will not allow them to take our lands under any circumstances.”
Struan rubbed at his scruffy jaw and paced about, his usual posture while sorting through all possible battle contingencies. “They ken where we are positioned, and it will be full dark soon. Will we bed here for the night?”
“No, a heavy fog is settling that will muffle our movement. As soon as we know their location, we will advance to them. I’ll not leave Andra in their grasp for a moment longer than necessary. We ken this land as well as they do, perhaps better, and Highlanders are not afraid of a bit of fog and dark. Before morning I plan to be in their midst and will take back what is mine.”
The words were out of his mouth before he considered their significance. He had just verbally claimed Andra as his. Of course, he suspected it came as no surprise to his closest friends and family. Nevertheless, he did not miss the smirk on Rabbie’s face, nor Struan’s sham of a scowl.
Finding My Highlander Page 22
