Captured Heart

by Heather McCollum

  “We will send our petition to Edinburgh first,” Alec stammered. “England can’t just send troops here as if they ruled this country!”

  Ewan kept his gaze on Caden. “He insinuated that King James was not happy with you right now and that he would not defend us.”

  Anger burned in Caden’s chest. “Davidson.”

  “My thoughts, too,” Ewan said and took a deep breath.

  “Bloody devil talks too much,” Alec grumbled.

  “He wanted me to ask you, Caden,” Ewan said, “if you placed more value on one little woman than on the men, women, and children of three clans. And if you were willing to wage war with England on Meg’s account.”

  Caden’s chest squeezed on an indrawn breath. How many times had he spouted the wisdom of the truce with the Munros? That one woman wasn’t worth the lives of hundreds. How many times since he’d decided to steal away an English woman and use her to bring peace had he justified it with those words? He’d married Meg to end a feud, but staying married to her could start a war.

  Chapter Thirteen

  2 June 1518—Primrose: yellow flower in early spring. Dry the root or use whole plant fresh. Use against body stiffness and gout. A tincture with the green plant will help a person sleep. Use the dry root against headaches and the phrensie.

  Primrose will bring peace to the lonely wife as she waits for a time to return to her husband near the western sea. Abundant in woods and pastures along the North Road.

  “Why can’t we go today?” Meg asked. Caden and Colin sat with her at the long table in the great hall. Unease chewed at her insides, despite Caden’s return to her in the dark of night. Apparently she could be woken if he was creative with his well-placed kisses.

  “Someone at Druim is trying to scare me or worse, and if that doesn’t stop me, then Boswell is going to petition the king for troops to send against us. We must prove he’s a traitor to the crown.”

  Meg’s stomach rolled as she replayed the threat that Boswell had given Ewan upon leaving. Caden had told her just before they’d come down to the hall. She could imagine those black eyes in the red face, his words so firm and sure. They needed those letters.

  “Meg,” Caden said calmly. “There is a foot of snow out there. We were lucky to get the herds back yesterday.”

  “And we’re not certain that the incidents at Druim are related to Boswell,” Colin added. “The pebbles. The mushrooms.”

  “We aren’t even sure that the letters will show Boswell is a traitor,” Caden said.

  She sat down on the bench beside Caden. “Why else would my mother have Colin hide them, risk her life and mine to steal them in the first place, and then tell me so in a letter urging me to run?” She shook her head, her hands clasping together in the folds of her gown. “What else can we do other than send me to England?” Even the words made her body shudder.

  Caden squeezed Meg’s hand. “Ye’re not going to England.”

  Colin scratched the short beard that had begun to grow back. “We could send one of our men to represent Meg with the petition.”

  “And hope he leaves with his life?” Meg asked in frustration. “People lose their lives based on King Henry’s whims. And he’s none too fond of the Scots.”

  “Perhaps going through Scottish Parliament would be best. They can deal with Henry,” Colin advised. “Father Daughtry may be able to write to King James refuting the allegations of hearsay.”

  “I’m not sure what Father Daughtry thinks about me,” Meg said. “Ann says he’s been asking about my gift.” They didn’t have time to convince the priest of her goodness, not if one letter from Boswell could convince King Henry that they were a threat. “Maybe I do need to go to London to present my case.”

  Caden turned his fierce eyes to Meg. “Not without me.”

  “And not without those letters,” Colin said.

  “So we are back to needing to retrieve them.” She nearly stamped her foot like a child before these big, stoic men.

  “Let this snow spell pass, next week,” Colin said. “Boswell won’t return to England until spring to bring English troops back here, and they will be led by someone other than he.”

  “We can show the letters to that commander,” Caden said. “He will have to take them back to London, which will give us more time to prepare.”

  “Prepare for what?” Meg asked, her stomach tightening. Apparently, Caden hadn’t told her everything Boswell threatened. “For war with England?”

  Caden and Colin passed a silent communication between them. Caden was the one who replied. “War with England has always been a possibility, as long as they sit against our borders.”

  “I won’t be the cause of war,” she said firmly.

  “We could leave,” Caden said. “Meg and I, to the colonies or France.”

  Colin snorted. “Now that I have a daughter, I have a desire to know my grandbairns.” He scratched his beard again. “And a desire to teach impudent Englishmen that this is our country, not theirs.”

  “War. You would really go to war? Against the English? Because I came here?” Meg couldn’t sit another moment. She let her legs carry her away while her mind fumbled around the word “war” with a numbness that invaded her whole being.

  …

  “Meg,” Caden called after her. She continued to the entry and threw a cloak around her shoulders to step out into the snowy world. Worry that had nothing to do with the threat of war clenched his chest. The pain in Meg’s eyes, it was like…terror.

  “Let her calm down a bit,” Colin said.

  Caden signaled Donald, who’d passed Meg on his way in. Donald walked over to them, broke off a bit of bread, and promptly turned to follow her. The man had been tasked to follow Meg since the moment they found her—or rather, since she’d found them.

  Alec and Rachel walked down the steps together, arm in arm.

  “Sleeping in, Munro?” Caden indicated the trencher of cold venison and bread.

  “Woke at dawn,” Alec said, puffing out his chest. “My sweet lass of a bride had other ideas,” he waggled his eyebrows.

  Rachel slapped Alec’s arm and sat down to eat.

  “That’s what you need to do, lad,” Colin said over his ale. “Keep Meg busy, her thoughts off retrieving those letters.”

  Caden stood. “You just want grandbairns, old man.” Though the thought of keeping Meg locked up in their room definitely had its merits. Could he kiss the terror out of her eyes? He’d definitely try.

  He pushed out into the chilly autumn morning just as Donald barreled back up the steps.

  “She’s taken her horse,” he said, panting, “and is walking it through the village.”

  Caden picked up his pace and followed her small footprints through the snow.

  “Do you really think she’d try to leave alone?” Donald asked.

  She’d done it before with hardly any preparation. And that was just to save herself, not three clans. “She’s at least considering it.” Caden’s heart pounded as he broke into a jog. “I would.”

  “I’ll talk to Hugh about keeping a closer watch. Don’t want anything to happen to our lady,” Donald called and ran off.

  Caden followed discreetly behind Meg. Didn’t she know the risk she was putting herself in, just by walking alone through the village? With the foot traffic alone along the village paths, Boswell or Davidson could be waiting to nab her.

  Caden scanned the path she followed, watching, waiting, ready to spring into attack. His blood pumped, his palm resting on the familiar hilt of his sword.

  People passed and most eyed her horse, yet no one halted her. No one bloody halted her! Would she really leave? Leave him?

  Caden watched her straight shoulders as she continued to the edge of the village, where the cattle beyond nosed through the snow in search of covered gorse. He moved with stealth behind cottages until he stood close enough to catch her if she mounted. She put two fingers to her mouth and whistled a high, piercing call. The cow
s flitted their ears and lowed.

  Meg pulled the hood over her head, covering that lustrous auburn hair. She whistled a second time.

  At the edge of the woods a dark-furred animal loped out onto the moor. “Nickum,” she said, and gathered her horse’s reins in one hand.

  As she hiked up her skirt to mount, Caden surged from behind the house. “Enough!”

  In three strides he was upon her. He grabbed her arms and spun her to him, his rage barely controlled. He may have felt pride in her thoughts of self-sacrifice, but watching it unfold in reality was entirely different. The wolf paused, as if to watch.

  “What are ye doing?” he yelled. He stopped when he saw the tears on the brim of her eyes. He lowered his voice and trailed a thumb across her cheek. “What are ye doing, lass? Ye can’t leave me. I…I won’t let ye leave me.”

  “A war, where babies and mothers, husbands and brothers will die,” she said. She shook her head. “I won’t be the cause of it. I have to do something.”

  “Don’t repeat yer mother’s sacrifice, Meg.” His words pushed the tears over and they wet a trail down her cheeks. “She should have stayed here. Ye should stay here.” He swallowed against the pain in his throat. “Ye will stay here.”

  “Am I a prisoner again, then?”

  Caden closed his eyes and let the air move in and out of his lungs. He opened his eyes and stared into her watery ones. What could he say that wasn’t a lie? “I won’t let ye go. If that makes ye a prisoner, so be it.”

  “I could stop a war. Just me, one single person, could save many.”

  Caden bent so his eyes were level with Meg’s. “If it comes to war, ye wouldn’t be the cause. Boswell would be the cause.”

  “Because of me. If I go away—”

  “I will slice through every Englishman until I’ve skewered Boswell’s black heart,” Caden finished, and pulled her shivering form into his warmth. “If ye go away there will be no one to stop me from taking my revenge on England.” He held her close, watching the large wolf slow his gait across the moor. Would it have attacked him for grabbing her? Perhaps his wee wife was safer than he thought.

  “Nay, Meg. If ye leave, we leave.” He pushed back her hood and ran his palm down the silk of her hair and inhaled the fresh scent. “Together.” He paused. “I would have yer word on it.”

  Meg blinked and looked up into his eyes. The tears remained but something else shone through, strength perhaps, something more. “Together then, if it comes to it, to prevent a war. We go together.”

  “Ye swear on it.”

  “I swear.” She fell back into his arms. Relief surged through him and he finally drew in a deep breath. He watched Nickum run back to the forest’s edge. “Yer pet awaits.”

  “I haven’t seen him since he was healed. Could he think I abandoned him?”

  “Time for a visit,” Caden said and lifted Meg, sitting her on the saddle. Though she’d sworn, he still held tight to the horse’s reins. The unease of almost losing her sat like a fresh wound across his chest. What if he’d listened to Colin and given Meg some time? And she’d ridden out in the cold without direction? “Together,” he said, his voice harder than he’d intended.

  He mounted behind her and tapped Pippen into a run across the moor. The wind whipped into their faces, yet Meg didn’t shy from it. She laughed for a moment before the wind ripped the melody away. He leaned into her. “I love to hear yer happiness, love.”

  She turned and her joy melted his anger and fear. The pure happiness lit her face from within, sparkling through her long-lashed eyes, flushing her cheeks. The edge of her tongue touched her lips, wetting them. His blood rushed, filling him with heat.

  Before either one of them could respond, Pippen halted to a walk and danced to the left, away from the huge wolf. Even though Caden knew the wolf was tame, its mere size and emotionless eyes awakened a core of caution.

  Meg turned and patted Pippen between his twitching ears. “Nickum won’t hurt us.”

  “He’s been out in the wild for three weeks. Be careful,” Caden warned. The bloody beast stared at him, neither of them moving.

  Meg slid down breaking their locked gaze. “I’ve missed you.” She approached the wolf that stood up to her stomach on all fours. One false movement and Caden would yank his short sword from his boot and strike.

  She threw her arms around the wolf’s neck.

  “Meg!” Caden jumped off the horse’s back. Luckily, the wolf just stood there while she hugged the beast like a long-lost child.

  “You have cuts on your feet.” She lifted a paw the size of her hand, turning it over. Caden shook his head, amazed what the animal allowed. Nickum even nuzzled her side. Caden relaxed, moving his hand away from the short sword. The wolf sat when he did so. Had he been aware of the weapon the entire time?

  Meg closed her eyes and Caden saw a faint outline of blue light against the wolf’s body where she touched him.

  “Now I can fix you without that stinging ointment.” She stroked his face and scratched behind his ears. “Where have you been?” She paused as if she thought he’d answer.

  Could she understand the wolf? Ridiculous, Caden thought, though she was a witch. He hadn’t yet fully contemplated what that meant. It didn’t matter. Meg was his wife, witch or not.

  “Have you been waiting out here for me?” she asked, but then inhaled sharply.

  Caden turned to where Meg’s eyes fastened in between the trees. Another gray wolf stood still, blending in with the mottled dead leaves of a bush.

  “You found a friend?” she whispered, and took a step toward the smaller wolf.

  “Meg, that one’s wild,” Caden warned.

  She stopped. The smaller wolf retreated farther into the forest, but stayed close.

  “Your friend won’t leave you,” Meg said to Nickum, and wiped a long stroke down his back. She leaned in and kissed his head. “I won’t, either, but I’m living in the castle now and can’t get out to visit as much.” She hugged him tight. “You don’t seem thin and there’s plenty of animals for you…and your friend.”

  “Meg, we need to return,” Caden said eyeing the dense, silent woods. Two swords against an army of English? Not good. Although with the wolf on their side, the odds were better. “Boswell and Davidson could be close and yer pet could get hurt protecting ye again.”

  That made her move. She hugged the wolf and hurried to Pippen. Caden lifted her up and climbed behind. Nickum jogged back into the woods toward the smaller wolf. Caden glanced back once at them and then the two ran, blending in with the wild winter grays and browns.

  He steered Pippen across the frozen heath. Clods of white blew up behind the horse’s feet. Caden watched the edge of woods surrounding them on the west to the three mountains behind Druim Castle. His eyes lingered on the third one on the right.

  “The letters seem so close,” Meg said, her words carrying back to him on the wind.

  “They’re safe, Meg.” Caden tucked her in against his body. “We’ll get them. I promise.”

  …

  Meg rolled over, her sleep-warmed body shocked into wakefulness by the cold blankets on Caden’s side. She tossed back onto her own side and snuggled in deep. Blinking, she noticed the bright sunlight filtering in through the thick glass of the small window. Maybe the frigid temperatures and heavy snow, which had made their trip to the mountain impossible over the last four weeks, had finally abated.

  Each day she’d watched to see if the piling snow would melt, but it hadn’t. So her days had taken on a pleasant routine of learning the running of a great household. Meanwhile, Caden’s scouts had kept tabs on Boswell, and the man seemed holed up at Davidson Castle. Apparently, the devil didn’t like the frigid weather, either.

  “Just how late is it?” she mumbled. Caden had obviously been up for enough time that all his body heat had evaporated from the layers of blankets and furs. And the man certainly had a lot of body heat. Meg snuggled, naked, down in the bed, remembering just
how hot her husband’s skin became. Even with the chill that had settled over the Highlands, they’d had to throw the blankets back for fear that they’d singe the linens.

  Meg giggled and stretched. The two of them had certainly ignited, but the linens had remained intact, unlike her ripped shift that lay piled on the floor. She should just stop wearing them to bed.

  She reached under the blankets, her hand sliding over her abdomen. And stopped.

  Something was different. She had always been aware of her body’s functions, the changes that happened each month with her cycle. Those changes had stalled, but she thought it was due to the stress of her escape into the Highlands and her new marriage.

  Meg called upon her magic to lightly probe her body, her womb. And there it was, small, new, rapidly changing.

  Her eyes glazing with joy-filled tears. She was going to have a baby. Caden’s baby.

  The budding life was still so new that she couldn’t tell anything about the growing ball except that it radiated health. She channeled her magic through the rest of her body. Things were already changing as the balance of particles and fluids moved throughout.

  She hugged herself tight and listened to her stomach rumble. How soon before she became nauseous? Some mothers began earlier than others and some not at all. Would it be a girl, whom she could teach to appreciate her gift of healing? Or a boy, tall and strong like his father?

  A chill ran through her at the thought of a son, sword in hand, standing against an English battalion. She splayed her fingers across her abdomen.

  War. They might be on the verge of it. Instead, would they abandon their countries to journey abroad? She couldn’t even imagine Caden away from the Highlands, let alone raising his son in another land. Meg closed her eyes.

  No. She couldn’t think of that now. She tuned into the vibrant health of the burgeoning life within her and coaxed the joy to return. This baby would be a blessing in this terrible time. Colin would be so happy. First a daughter he knew nothing about and now a grandbairn on the way. And Caden…