by Terry Spear
"Who is the man?"
"Our guest, MacDonald of Sleat."
Chapter 5
"Are you mad?" Maili asked her brother, feeling as if a noose tightened around her neck. "I am too closely related to MacDonald of Sleat to marry him."
"Nonsense," Elrick said. "You're fourth cousins. The bard kens well both of your lineages."
Dear heavens, nay! Surely her brother could not be so malicious as to force her to marry Sleat. "He is an old man."
"Not that old." Elrick shrugged. "Merely two score and ten. And he is hale and hearty. A great warrior."
"Almost as old as Da." Regardless of his age, Sleat was not an attractive man. He always glared at everyone and belittled his men. He boasted in an annoying, loud voice at the high table. Not only that, she detested his lustful stares. Nausea rose within Maili. "That's why he has come here? Why did you not tell me earlier?"
"Nay, as I said, he came for clan business. When he saw you and observed you for a while, he decided to offer for you. Naught was decided until today."
"I won't marry him," she said firmly. "I refuse."
"You will do as I command. I wish Da hadn't spoiled you. You ken you must marry. Already, three men have rejected you because of how strange you are. Sleat is willing to overlook the rumors and your odd behavior. His first wife had the sight, so it is naught new to him. He has a fondness for witches."
"I am not a witch!"
Her brother smirked. "As well, he is willing to overlook your advanced age. At twenty-three summers, you are not likely to get any more offers of marriage."
She ground her teeth. She did not view herself as old or on the shelf. In fact, she still felt just as she had at eighteen. "When is this to take place?" she asked.
"Next week, after I exchange the prisoner for the ransom."
***
At noon the following day, Maili discretely gathered food in the kitchen for Shamus and wrapped it in a clean cloth. She feared if Elrick knew she was going to visit Shamus again, he might stop her, since he thought he was betrothing her to Sleat.
Only one week until she became the wife and thrall of that goat? Over her dead body!
She had hardly slept at all the night before as she tried to work out a solution in her mind. How could her brother be so vile as to arrange such a horrid marriage for her?
Now she knew why MacDonald of Sleat had been staring at her as if she were an oddity. He'd been trying to decide if she were truly mad or a witch he might tolerate as his wife. Bastard!
Well, she was having none of it. She would leave here with Shamus or die trying.
She slipped out the kitchen doorway and took a roundabout way to the dungeon entrance so that neither her brother nor any of Sleat's men saw her. The guard was not surprised to see her and barely gave her a nod before he let her pass.
When Maili's eyes adjusted to the dim torchlight of the dungeon, she couldn't believe how different Shamus looked. She hadn't even realized how dirty he'd been. His dark hair looked shiny and clean. Most of the swelling in his face had disappeared, too. 'Twas clear to her he was one of the best-looking men she had ever seen.
"I thank you for sending the bath," he said. "Feels much better to be clean."
She nodded and handed him the bread and cheese wrapped in a cloth. She couldn't tell him how much better he looked and how appealing she found him. She tried not to stare but found it difficult.
"You're quiet this day, Lady Maili," he murmured, studying her with dark, spellbinding eyes while he ate.
She shrugged and stared down at the bottle of ale in her hands so he wouldn't see how much she enjoyed looking at him. She was devastated at the thought she might be married to the MacDonald of Sleat chief within a week's time. If only Shamus were a free man who wished to marry her.
Mayhap she could help him to be a free man.
"May I have a sip of that?" he asked.
She nodded and removed the cork.
Taking the bottle she offered, he frowned. "Did your brother tell you not to talk to me anymore?"
"Nay. Of course not."
He drank a long swallow then moved closer to the bars. "What then?"
She took a wee step back, not because she feared him, but because his magnetic presence disturbed her and sent her heart racing with excitement and awareness. "'Tis naught."
"Look at me, Maili," he murmured.
When she did, his dark gaze in the torchlight penetrated into her very soul.
"Do you not ken 'tis dangerous to look at a man like that?"
He was teasing her again. She narrowed her eyes.
He grinned. "Come here." His words were soft but firm, like a gentle command. One she wanted to obey, but still she feared what would happen if he touched her. She knew not whether she could trust him. What if he grabbed her and choked her to death? Nay, he would not do such a thing, would he? Her second sight and her instincts told her he was far more trustworthy than her own brother.
Still, going near him made her nervous; she stood firm. "Why?"
"I want to ask you something." His voice was the epitome of seduction. Not that she had ever been seduced. But his tone affected her in startling ways that confused her.
"You can ask me from there." She placed her hands upon her hips.
"I ken it, but 'twould be much more enjoyable to whisper it into your ear."
The fear lingered. Would he grab her and hurt her? Or the opposite… grab her and kiss her? Either one was sure to change her world in unfathomable ways.
She had been betrothed thrice, but never kissed. Most men feared her; however Shamus didn't… because he had no knowledge of her gift. Once he learned of it, he might want naught to do with her again.
"You may tie my hands behind my back," he said.
His words startled her. "What? Why would I want to do that?"
"You don't yet trust me, do you?"
She shook her head, wishing she could trust him fully and completely.
"Well, if my hands are tied, you'll know I cannot touch you. You'll be safe. But you must untie me afterward."
She nodded, realizing this might be the way to get him to take her with him when he left. He seemed interested in her.
"I'm showing how much I trust you." He turned his back to her and held his hands together. Saints, how could he give her so much power? After tearing a strip from the cloth she'd bundled his food in, she tied his wrists together.
He faced her again, his lips quirking the slightest bit.
She lifted a brow. "Now, what do you wish to ask me?"
He moved his face next to the bars. "You're still not yet near enough for me to whisper in your ear."
She inched closer and turned her head, positioning her ear near his mouth. His breath teased her hair and her skin, giving her a shiver.
"Maili," he whispered, his warm lips brushing her ear.
Though she knew she should jump away and run, she could not. Instead, she wanted to lean into him, grab onto him. He smelled good—a clean male scent which was strange but alluring.
"May I kiss you?" he asked.
Breath refused to enter her lungs. 'Twas true, she'd imagined what his lips might feel like on hers, dreamed about it. But to now be faced with the real possibility it could happen made her heart gallop within her chest.
"Will you allow me that great indulgence?" he persisted.
She wanted to protest and deny him. But her body would not cooperate with her mind. She tried to shake her head, but this only caused his lips to brush against her cheek. He kissed her there, emitting a soft breath.
"Kiss me, Maili," he urged.
She shook her head slightly. "I know not how," she whispered, heat and embarrassment burning over her.
"Come. I'll show you." His bewitching eyes were heavy-lidded in the dimness. "Press a kiss to my lips," he encouraged.
She cast a quick glance behind herself, toward the stairs, to make certain the guard hadn't sneaked into the dungeon. Then, turning bac
k to Shamus, she gathered her courage and placed a brief kiss on his lips. The warm, sensual feel of them enthralled her and excitement swirled through her. She had finally done it—she had kissed a man.
When she drew back, he breathed, "Aye, that's it. Do it again."
Again? Saints, he was wicked. But since the first kiss had been so captivating, she wished to experience it again. When their mouths met this time, his tongue darted against her lips, shocking her, but she remained where she was, too intrigued to move.
"Sweet," he whispered. "Open your mouth. Let me taste you."
Although she did not understand why he would want to taste her, his words lured her, compelled her to do anything he asked.
Placing her hands upon his broad shoulders through the bars, she did as he asked and opened her mouth against his. Growling, he took possession, sliding his tongue inside. Soon, she understood what he was doing and flicked her tongue against his.
He groaned. "Aye, lass, you're a quick study. Again."
Unable to believe her own boldness, she darted her tongue into his mouth, then away, teasing him.
"Saints, you do try a man's patience." His eyes were heavily lidded as if he were half drugged on some unusual herb, and she could not resist his dark look of desire. Knowing she was walking a thin line of danger, she kissed him again, allowed him to kiss her in a way that made her feel she was barely a maiden anymore. He had turned her into a wanton. His tongue delved deeply into her mouth, making her wish he was out of that cell and pressing his hard body tightly to hers. She felt as if her insides were melting like warm honey.
"Saints, I want to hold you in my arms," he rasped, straining against the bars.
She stepped back, trying to regain control of herself. Every part of her felt on fire—her body, her heart, her soul. Never had another person awakened her spirit as he did. 'Twas almost as if she'd been half asleep until this moment.
"You must help me, Maili," he whispered. His fiery obsidian eyes pleaded with her.
"How?"
"Help me get out of here tonight."
Why would he ask this of her right after kissing her? "You're trying to manipulate me and use me?" Her heart ached with the realization.
"Nay. There is naught I like more than kissing you. But if I can get back home in time, my brother won't bring a fleet of galleys and attack your clan's castle. No one has to know you helped me."
"They will suspect." Aye, they would. But, regardless, she had to help him. 'Twas her only option if she wanted to avoid marrying Sleat. "If I help you escape, will you take me with you?" she whispered only louder than a breath.
Shamus watched her for a long moment, obviously thinking that over. "Much as I would like to, I cannot. Your brother would consider it abduction, even if you want to go. 'Twould cause clan war just as my imprisonment will."
She couldn't tell him that her brother had betrothed her to a chief, for it would make Shamus even more resistant to taking her with him. Bride thievery was a serious offense and would rile the two branches of the MacDonald clan.
"I must go," she said. She had to clear her mind and think.
"Wait, my hands are still tied."
"Very well. Turn around." When he did, she slipped the sgian dubh from the sheath on her ankle and cut the cloth binding his wrists. She had much to think over. If he wouldn't take her with him, did she truly want to help him escape only to get into trouble with her brother? He might beat her, or have one of his men do it. She started up the dungeon steps.
"I hope you'll return soon," Shamus called after her.
Aye, she would like to, but she didn't ken what to do. Exhausted as she was, she couldn't think clearly.
Had he only kissed her to sway her in helping him escape? Her heart sank. She had so hoped he might come to truly care for her.
She hurried across the courtyard and upstairs to her chamber, closed the door and barred it.
Her mind in turmoil, she paced until her heart rate and breathing calmed, then she built up the fire by adding dried peat. She could think of no other solution to all the problems than to assist him in escaping and then going with him, whether he wanted her to or not. She had to somehow convince him.
If she remained here, she would be married to Sleat in a week's time. Her life would be over. She simply could not imagine being married to the goat. He was old enough to be her father. Not only that, but he had a vicious look in his eyes. Hints of his cruelty leaked out here and there in the way he treated his men. He had grabbed her arse not one minute after he had entered Bearach Castle. He held no respect for women, whether they were ladies or not. Plus, if Shamus didn't get home before his brother brought a fleet of galleys and a huge garrison, most of her clan could be slaughtered.
Having slept little the night before because of worrying, Maili removed her arisaid, lay down on the bed and pulled the counterpane over her.
A few hours later, she awoke, gasping for breath. She had again seen the future and it was terrible.
The MacKenzie chief would attack their castle and lay waste to it. Most of the men would be killed. She saw the vision of their bloody bodies lying strewn about the bailey.
"Nay," she whispered, leaping to her feet. She had to do something. She had to figure out how to help Shamus escape so he could stop his brother.
But he'd said he couldn't take her with him if she did help him. She would go anyway, whether he liked it or not. She would follow.
A knock sounded at the door and she jumped.
Chapter 6
Maili opened her bedchamber door to find one of the serving maids waiting there. "The chief sent me to fetch you to supper."
Maili now heard strains of music filtering up from the great hall. 'Twas the last place she wished to go. Her brother and Sleat were there.
"I have a headache. Please tell him I'm not feeling well and will sup in my room this eve."
"Very well, m'lady." The servant curtsied and left.
Maili closed the door. While belting her plaid arisaid, a quick plan formed in her mind. She then slipped down the back stairs, to the busy kitchen, where she wrapped two warm berry tarts in a cloth. The maids were so busy, they paid her little mind, except to curtsy in respect and rush to the next chore. She then took a loaf of bread and large chunk of cheese and wrapped them in another cloth. Three bottles of wine were the last items she snatched. She wrapped each in cloth so they wouldn't break, then crammed them into a satchel. She slipped out the kitchen portal and proceeded to the stables. Gloaming was nigh upon them and the torches in the bailey had been lit.
"Finnian, can you saddle my horse?" she asked the lanky thirteen-year-old stable lad. "I'm taking the healer into the village to visit a wee sick lad. If you promise to keep this a secret, I'll give you a treat."
Finnian's eyes widened. "What sort of treat, m'lady?"
"Two bramble tarts."
He grinned and raced to do her bidding, saddling Ruairi in only a few minutes. Her horse was a strong gelding who could handle two riders.
"You promise not to tell anyone I've gone?" she asked when Finnian had finished and stood before her expectantly.
"Aye, of course, m'lady. Upon my honor." He covered his heart with his hand and bowed.
"If anyone asks, tell them I must have saddled the horse myself. Hold Ruairi here. I'll be back for him in a few minutes. Here are your tarts." She handed him the cloth bundle. He'd already gobbled two bites by the time she left the stables.
Moments later, Maili huffed and gasped as she carried the large bucket of well water toward the entrance to the dungeon where the guard stood.
"Here, let me help you with that, Lady Maili."
"I thank you, Dugan."
He smiled and winked, then lifted the bucket as if it weighed naught. "You should not be carrying such a heavy load. Why did you not get one of the manservants to help you with it?"
"They're all busy with their chores."
"Where are you going with this?"
"I'm taking it to the prisoner. He has not bathed since he was brought in. He smells a fright." She already knew Dugan had not been on duty the night before, when the servant had brought the other bucket of water.
"Aye, naught worse than a stinking MacKenzie." He chuckled.
Wanting to stamp his toe, she ground her teeth and hid her displeasure. "Would you mind terribly carrying it down there for me? I must hurry, for supper will be starting soon."
"Nay, of course not. 'Twould be my pleasure to help you in any way I can." He turned to descend the dungeon steps.
She followed, wanting to kick herself because she'd forgotten to bring an empty wine bottle. She would simply have to use a full one. She slipped it from her satchel.
Please, God, forgive me. She lifted the bottle and smashed it against the back of Dugan's head. He went down like a crumbling stone wall. The scent of wine filled the air, and water from the bucket splashed everywhere. He made no sound, nor did he move.
She prayed she hadn't killed him, for he was the only guard who treated her kindly.
"Saints," Shamus hissed as he observed her through the bars.
"I'm sorry, Dugan," she whispered and pulled the ring of keys from his belt. With trembling hands, she fitted the key into the cell door lock and turned. A click sounded and she pulled the door open.
"Thank you, Maili." Shamus pulled her to him for a quick kiss on the lips which stunned her, but she had no time to enjoy the moment.
She knew Dugan carried a flask of whisky in his sporran at all times. She'd often seen him slip it out and take a sip. She removed it and poured it throughout the cell, to keep her brother's dog from being able to pick up Shamus' scent. He dragged Dugan into the cell, divested him of everything but his long shirt, and put the plaid on himself over the plaid he already wore. "A disguise," he said, pulling the top portion of the plaid over his head. With cut strips of material, he tied Dugan's hands behind his back and put a gag into his mouth.
"I pray he lives," Maili said, locking him inside the cell. "But he will know I hit him. And report it to my brother."
