Highland Captive

by Mary McCall

  "Aye, I have sensed your restlessness. Today is the first time your troubled mind has let me break through. What is amiss?"

  "I need help. Uncle Mortimer betrayed me. He sold me to Vikings. I escaped, but got caught by a Highlander who thinks to keep me. My escape attempts from him have been failures. Are you near enough to help or can you send me aid?"

  "Place your right hand over your heart and show me this man in your mind."

  Alera closed her eyes and did as Chris directed. “Can you see him? His name is Duncan Ranald."

  Silence stretched and Alera grew anxious. "Chris?

  "I am here. Alera, I cannot help you. If it came to a fight, I would be forced to kill my husband's brother."

  "Your husband is a Ranald?"

  "Nay, but my husband, Duncan and two others decided to become brothers in their youth. They performed an old Celtic blood ritual to make the pact binding and they remain loyal to each other."

  Alera groaned her frustration. "What am I to do?

  "Accept the gift Divine Providence has offered you. I sense Duncan is your soulmate."

  "But I need to help Papa, Chris. The Vikings who took me boasted they took him to the Orkney Isles."

  "Have you told Duncan this?"

  "Nay, he hates the English more than you do." Alera snorted. “If that is possible."

  "Do you still trust me, Alera?"

  "You know I do."

  "Then I tell you plainly to give Duncan a chance. For Henry delivered you into his care. You need each other to be whole. He will save your father if you give him your trust."

  "I miss you, Chris. I need my sister now."

  "So does Faith."

  "What has happened?

  "King Henry ordered her brother to wed come autumn. She has taken it into her head to go to a convent as soon as the wedding is over to do that ridiculous penance. I plan to sail two days hence to stop her."

  "Faith won't last a week in a convent. But are you daft? King Henry just raised the price on your head to fifteen thousand gold pieces after that stunt you pulled."

  "'Tis an insult. He knows my Arturian crown makes me worth more than he. I shall have to retaliate."

  "How?"

  An amused chuckle floated through Alera's mind. "I must decide. Besides, he will not even know I am in England until I am gone."

  "I hope you're right. I'll worry about you until I hear you have left his domain. Mayhap you will come here for me before heading back to Arturia?"

  "I give you my word, sister. I will call forth my legion of sons and daughters. With my army, I shall set our course straight for the Caledonian Highlands and go for Faith afterward. If you are not content by the time I arrive, I will take you with me and help you find your father. ‘Tis the most I can offer, considering the leagues that separate us."

  "My thanks, Chris. I will look forward to your arrival. And if I am able to escape before then, I will contact you."

  "Search your heart, my sister. You will find the key to your contentment there. Salve."

  "Godspeed, Chris."

  After the farewells, Alera suddenly felt bereft. Were Chris in the area, she might have held out hope and awaited her arrival. Clan Ranald and all their allies couldn't defeat The Sons and Daughters of Sophia, especially if she called forth her Holy Roman Legion as well. But Alera couldn't count on her sister's arrival from Arturia for at least a few moons.

  At a caw, Alera nodded to her friends.

  She needed to make some definite plans. Duncan was hunting and not expected back till eventide. Megan was with Edeen. ‘Twas the perfect time. “This is it, Henry. With you or without—"

  A splash to her left interrupted her. A shrill childish scream pierced the quiet glen. A little golden-headed girl, who couldn't be more than four summers, jumped and shrieked on the bank. The cause of the child's distress became obvious when another small head bobbed out of the water and went

  back under.

  Alera jumped in without forethought and pulled the child into her arms. The youngster gasped and sputtered, locking her arms around Alera's neck. She carried the small girl to the bank and sat with the child face down across her lap beside the other girl.

  The wet child wretched water then coughed. She caught her breath as Alera rubbed her back.

  "There now. ‘Tis safe you are now. Just take some deep breaths.” Alera spoke in gentle fluid Gaelic.

  "Is Angel all right?” the dry girl asked, her lips quivering.

  Alera gazed into her brimming eyes. “Aye. She will be fine."

  "You talk funny,” the dry girl said, rubbing a finger on the side of her nose.

  Alera smiled, taking in the child's hazel eyes, curly golden hair, and sprinkle of freckles across her button nose. “I may speak funny, but am I saying the right words?"

  "What words?” The child scrunched her bemused face.

  "Since you asked that, you must understand, so I must be speaking Gaelic."

  "Does not everybody?” the dry girl asked with a shrug.

  Alera laughed, spontaneous and unguarded with this pair.

  "Angel is going to get a whoopin'. She was not ‘posed to get in the water.” The dry girl gloated.

  Angel's head reared up, splattering water on her sister, glaring. “You pushed me!"

  "I see you are twins,” Alera said. “What are you doing here alone?"

  "Hiding from Craig,” Angel answered as if it were obvious.

  "Craig?"

  "Our brother,” the dry girl answered. “Mam told him to watch us, cause of her feelin’ poorly and all."

  Alera eyed the little imp. “Well, I know Angel's name. What is yours?"

  "Hope."

  "Ah. I have an Aunt Hope. Well, Angel and Hope, let us get you home, so Angel does not catch a chill and Craig does not get a thrashing.” Alera placed Angel on her feet, rose, and squeezed water from her shift and hair. She took each girl by the hand. “Which way?"

  "There,” Angel said, while Hope pointed up a path.

  The trio began walking. “So tell me how you two escaped Craig?"

  "He quit watchin’ us,” Hope replied.

  "He went to get a bark,” Angel added.

  "Mam is ailin',” Hope said.

  "The plant is for a potion,” Angel tossed out.

  Alera thought she might get dizzy if she turned her head from side to

  side again. “What has your mam ailing?"

  "Papa,” Hope answered.

  "Mam says if he would leave her ‘lone, she would not get her condition,” Angel said.

  Hope nodded to reinforce her sister's words.

  Alera scowled. “Does he beat her?"

  "He ruts her,” Hope declared.

  "And ruts her some more,” Angel added with an emphatic nod.

  Alera suppressed a laugh and forced a frown. “You two should not say that."

  "It be true,” Hope said.

  "He does,” Angel rushed to agree.

  "But ‘tis not how young ladies speak.” Alera suddenly felt like a hypocrite. Hadn't she said worse from the time she was their age?

  "You'll not be telling Mam we said rut, will you?” Hope pushed out her lower lip and peeked up through her lashes.

  "She will make us suck bitters.” Angel matched her sister's contrite pout.

  Alera shuddered, as the taste of bitters seemed to collect in her mouth. “I will not tell if you promise not to say that to anyone else."

  "We will not."

  "We promise."

  "Who are you?” Hope asked.

  "Alera."

  Hope gasped and excitement lit her eyes. “I heard of you."

  "Aye,” Angel said, tugging on Alera's arm as she perked up. “You're Uncle Duncan's woman."

  "He told Papa you'll not wed him, cause of you're stubborn,” Hope said, pulling Alera's other arm.

  Angel tugged harder to reclaim Alera's attention. “But he is going to give you lots of bairns, anyway."

  "Then mayhap you'll co
me to your senses."

  "And marry him for your own damn good."

  Angel raised admiring eyes. “Craig said you went wolf baitin'."

  "Our grandma would like you,” Hope announced.

  "Can we go wolf baitin’ with you next time?"

  "Ack, do you lassies ever stop chattering?” Alera smiled. She liked these little talkers, and she was going to strangle Duncan. They were obviously repeating his words.

  "Mam says we only stop at night,” Angel answered.

  Hope nodded. “We're ‘posed to ‘preciate Mam's patience."

  "'Cause of we be ‘corrigible,” Angel added.

  "There is where we live.” Hope pointed to a cottage in a clearing ahead.

  "Mam, we brung Alera home,” Angel yelled.

  Alera rolled her eyes.

  "Help!” a young voice called.

  "'Tis Craig,” Hope cried in alarm.

  "You two follow me as fast as you can,” Alera ordered then sprinted up to the cottage. “Where are you, Craig?"

  "Back here,” he called from behind the building. “Mam will not move or open her eyes!"

  Alera rounded the dwelling. A young boy knelt beside a fallen woman. She was heavy with child, her pallor extreme, cheeks swollen. A high-pitched whistle ended her labored breaths. Alera knelt beside her, picked up an arm, and studied the woman's pudgy hands. The woman didn't stir.

  "Mam is not dead, is she?” Craig asked as tears rolled down his cheeks. Alera recognized him as the chatty boy from a few weeks past.

  "Nay, but she is very sick.” Alera examined the woman's swollen ankles. “Craig, go check your sisters. Make sure they do not run off again. I promise I will take care of your mam."

  The boy left. Alera reached up under the woman's gown and placed a hand on her belly. The tightly contracted muscles relaxed. Her water hadn't broken, and Alera detected no bleeding. She pulled the skirt back down and touched the woman's clammy cheek.

  "Hope and Angel are at the side of the cottage, and they promise to stay,” Craig said, puffing as he returned.

  Alera took hold of Craig's shoulders and looked him in the eyes. “Craig, your mam is very sick. We do not have a moment to spare. ‘Tis a man's job I give you now. Run to the keep as fast as you can. Tell Kevin to go get your papa then bring Geddes back here. Can you do this?"

  "Aye.” He sniffed back tears. “Just save my mam.” Craig dashed off around the cottage.

  The woman remained still, so Alera went inside in search of supplies to make the woman comfortable until Geddes arrived. She grabbed a cushion from a hearth chair and a rag from the table. Then she took a cup and dipped it in a water bucket by the door.

  Returning outside to the fallen woman, she slipped the cushion beneath her head and shoulders. Alera wet the cloth and gently wiped the perspiration beading on the woman's forehead.

  A whimper escaped the woman, and she moved one hand to her belly.

  "Try to relax and do not move.” Alera dabbed at her cheeks. “I have sent for help so we can get you inside."

  The woman's eyelids fluttered open, revealing striking feline eyes of an amber hue that reminded Alera of the lion in King Henry's menagerie.

  "Aunt Bradana?” A puzzled frown crossed the woman's brow.

  "Uncle Julien said you died."

  Alera hooded her eyes and stilled her hand upon the woman's brow. No wonder the girls were called Angel and Hope. Her Aunt Hope's true name was Angelaspera, which meant Angel Full of Hope. This woman was her cousin. “I am not Bradana. My name is Alera."

  "Oh. What happened to me?"

  "You were fainted when I arrived. What is your name?"

  "Marcail.” She struggled to rise.

  "Nay, Marcail.” Alera pressed her shoulders down. “You are not to walk. I have sent for help. You must stay in bed until that bairn arrives. And I pray that will not be today. How long have you been swelling this bad?"

  "About three moons.” Marcail groaned and closed her eyes. “I'll be all right. I did this with the twins, only mayhap not quite this bad.” She opened her eyes and turned her face toward Alera, squinting against the sunlight. “You must be Duncan's Alera."

  Alera snorted. “'Tis his opinion. Now listen to me. You will not be all right if you do not stay abed. I have seen this before. Both you and the bairn are in danger. When is the bairn due?"

  "The beginning of July."

  "You will not last another full moon like this.” She couldn't allow Marcail to further harm herself, damn it all. She must postpone her escape again. Alera assumed her most commanding manner. “When Geddes arrives, we will get you to bed. You are not to get out of bed for anything except to answer nature's call from now until the birthing."

  "I cannot do that. I have a family to take care—"

  "They will have no one at all to care for them if you do not. Why are the clanswomen not helping you?"

  "They do not like me.” Marcail raked her fingers through her tawny locks and sighed. “Ardra had her eyes on my man Logan when he stole me. ‘Tis the same problem you will have. Brigit has been set on Duncan since before Lessa. No doubt she'll try to scratch your eyes out given the chance. Logan told me she was cleaning up at the keep. I'd wager she only does so to get Duncan's notice away from you."

  "If that is their reason for not helping you, then the Ranald women are a bunch of hateful heathen she-dogs.” Alera fisted her hands. “I may have a talk with Almighty God about them, too. I am thinking they all deserve an extra century in Purgatory."

  "If I do not do my chores, they'll not get done until my mother arrives. I'm not looking for her until the end of next week."

  "I will do your chores.” Alera compressed her lips. “No wonder Henry would not help me escape,” she muttered. “He knew you needed me."

  "Look at me.” Marcail placed a hand on Alera's arm.

  "What for?"

  Marcail settled her palm against Alera's jaw. A smile eased across

  her lips. “You have what my mother calls the cursed bloody blue eyes of a Highland heathen, more commonly known as MacKay blues. You're my cousin, Alera."

  "Please, do not tell."

  Marcail furrowed her brow. “Why do you not want anyone to know?"

  "If Uncle Julien finds out I am here, he might make me wed Duncan."

  "They'll both be furious if I keep my mouth shut. Why do you not wish to wed Duncan?"

  "I must find my father. And,” Alera shrugged, “Duncan does not truly want me. He knows I am of English blood. His offer to marry me is just a salve for his conscience."

  "Faith! You're a bloody MacKay. Besides, Duncan said he would never marry again after Lessa. Even believing you English, he still wishes to wed you. That is not a man after a salve. That is a man wanting a woman. And he did tell Logan you're his.” Marcail said the last as if it settled the matter.

  Alera rolled her eyes. “Well, I do not wish to be his. Will you please not tell?"

  "I'll try not to, but I may toss bait. I have a tendency toward mischief. A MacKay trait, I believe.” Marcail held Alera's hand and interlaced their fingers. “I'll offer you some advice. Tell Duncan before he figures it out. When Mam comes, she may keep quiet, but Papa will tell. And, Alera?"

  "Aye?"

  "I'm glad to finally meet you."

  "Me too.” Alera squeezed Marcail's fingers and smiled.

  "Poor Leo.” Marcail chuckled and pressed a hand against her belly.

  "You know Leo MacPherson?” Alera asked, surprised.

  "You would know I know Leo if I were not so swollen.” She grinned. “We both take after Papa."

  "Leo is my cousin!” Alera raised her hands to cover her blazing cheeks. “By all that is holy, I almost married my first cousin!"

  "How could you know he is a MacPherson and not know?"

  "Mama always spoke of Aunt Hope and her lion. She never mentioned a clan. Neither did Papa—no wonder he was so set against me wedding him."

  "I'll roast Leo's rump good over this. I
cannot believe he didn't recognize Aunt Bradana in you. He waxed on and on about you having Mam's eyes.” Marcail laughed harder, then groaned and pressed her hand against her belly.

  Alera wiped Marcail's brow with the cloth. “Stay calm, Marcail. I will hunt up some crampbark as soon as we get you inside."

  "I have some in a phial over the hearth.” Marcail sobered. “I've been lying to myself. Ignoring how ill I am. I did not want Logan fretting over me. I have not even told him I am having twins again."

  Alera frowned. With the problems Marcail had, twins could be lethal. “He needs to fret, and I will tell him so."

  Running footsteps approached. Geddes rounded the cottage. “Saint Ninian, Marcail! What happened?"

  Marcail snorted. “I fainted."

  Relief rippled through Alera. She stood and faced him. “Geddes, Marcail is extremely ill. She is in danger of dying, just so you will know how bad. ‘Tis not safe for her to walk. Will you carry her to bed?"

  "Aye, milady,” Geddes squatted beside Marcail and lifted her. “You just hold the door. Kevin has gone for Logan. He and the laird went to the coast, so ‘twill be a while before they return."

  Geddes carried Marcail inside, through a curtained off area and a draped doorway into a small chamber at the far side of the sleeping area.

  "You have a separate sleeping chamber?” Alera asked, surprised, and followed them.

  "'Twas a gift from Duncan after the twins arrived.” Pride tinged Marcail's tone. “We have our own privy, too."

  Geddes placed Marcail on the bed, and Alera went to her. “What else can I do, milady?"

  "You could start a fire, please. I have canceled my escape plans to stay with Marcail today. So you do not have to worry about me leaving. And I am just Alera now. No need to be calling me lady."

  Geddes gave her a reproachful frown. “I do not worry about you escaping, milady. I remain available to protect you on the laird's orders. He trusts you not to leave because you promised you would not. Now I'll get that fire blazing, and you let me know if you need anything else."

  Duncan entered the hall, laughing over a jest his brother had repeated. He called out greetings to Ardra, Brigit, and Moreen. He was pleased to find his clanswomen back to work, hanging cleaned weapons on the newly whitewashed walls. At least Alera could get a little rest. The lass hadn't felt well the last few days, and he worried about her.