Captured Heart

by Heather McCollum

  “Ye are up, milady,” Fiona said from the door. “Would ye like some breakfast? A bath?”

  “Both would be wonderful.” Meg tried not to blush as Fiona scooped up her ripped shift. “How late is it?”

  “Halfway to noon.” Fiona brought in a tray of bread and cheese. She stuck her head back out the door and yelled, “She wants a bath,” then turned back to Meg. “Ye’re sleeping late today. Are ye ill?”

  Meg thrilled inside over her little secret. “Just tired, I suppose. The day is sunny. Is it warmer at all?”

  “Aye,” Fiona said as she directed the men, who averted their eyes from Meg.

  “Moran taing,” Meg said, calling her thanks as they hurried out.

  Fiona tended the fire while Meg sank into the warm water.

  “Is it warm enough to hike to a mountain?” Meg asked as Fiona handed her a small bar of sweet-smelling soap.

  “Seems it is,” she said.

  Meg sat up straight, splashing a small wave of water over the side. “Goodness! They didn’t go without me, did they?”

  “The men are gathered down below discussing the route.”

  Meg breathed relief and sank back in the basin. “Then they won’t leave today. Tomorrow, perhaps.”

  “Aye.” Fiona helped Meg wash out her long hair. “Caden sent word to Munro Castle for Alec to join him and Colin.” Her uncle had been more than anxious to return home so Alec, Rachel, and Searc had departed Druim through the snow a week after the herds had returned.

  Tomorrow, then. Meg’s stomach churned with excitement. Within a day she could have the evidence to protect the clans and her baby.

  For now she’d keep her secret. Maybe she would tell Caden about the baby when they found the spot her mother and Colin had handfasted. He would be so happy. She would find the perfect moment to tell him that he’d soon be a father.

  The next morning Meg braced her hand on the stone wall as she hurried cautiously down the steps. No more pebbles had been spread in the dark stairwell, but she wasn’t taking any chances with the baby inside.

  Meg waved a greeting to Sarah and Aunt Mary as she grabbed a piece of bread from the table and a mug of watered wine. She ran out through the entryway into the bailey and stopped on the steps, breathing hard. Before her, ten men sat atop their horses. Pippen shifted, his saddle vacant.

  Murmurs of greeting came haphazardly from the group. Alec, Colin, and Caden were mounted along with Ewan and a few other warriors she knew. Meg took a drink and chewed on the fragrant bread. She’d woken queasy, but the food would help.

  Caden grinned. “So ye decided to wake.”

  She walked to him and returned his smile, even though her stomach still twitched and tossed at her rapid dressing and breakfast. “Did you even try to rouse me?”

  He leaned down, close to her. “Ye must be used to me shouting yer name, lass, for ye barely moved.”

  Meg’s breath caught in her throat at the sizzle of passion that sparked through the whisper. She swallowed and focused on the slushy ground to calm her stomach. She took another bite of the bread.

  “Ready to go?” Caden asked and she nodded as she sipped from her mug.

  “Are there provisions? Bread, cheese, water?” she asked, already thinking that she’d need continual food to keep her stomach strong on the ride.

  “Aye, plenty,” Caden answered. He frowned. “Ye are a little pale.”

  “I’m fit as a Highlander,” Meg said.

  Caden jumped down from his horse and followed her over to Pippen. “Are ye ill this morning?” He touched her forehead.

  Meg’s eyes rolled upward, as if watching his hand. “See? No fever. I’m just a little dizzy and hungry.” She forced herself to take another bite of the bread that had balled up in her stomach. She didn’t want to tell Caden about the baby until they were in the cave and it was too late to leave her at home.

  Caden pulled her cloak tighter around her neck. “I have another blanket for ye.”

  She swallowed another drink when Caden suddenly lifted her up on Pippen’s back. At the same time the horse next to Pippen released a pile of horse dung and a stream of urine. The smell hit Meg like hammer in the gut. Only Caden’s warrior reflexes saved him as he sidestepped and pointed her face toward the ground while she vomited.

  Men shouted. Horses danced. Meg stared at the ground as embarrassment tore through her. Caden moved the horse forward and gently lowered her back to the ground away from her breakfast. “Meg?”

  “I think you lifted me too fast.” She wiped her lips with the edge of the blanket. In actuality the purging had calmed her stomach, perhaps enough to replace some of that food. “If I could just get another fresh piece of bread, we can be off.”

  “Meg,” Caden said. “Ye vomited. Ye’re sick, lass.”

  “I am not ill,” she said, louder than she’d intended. “You just caught me off guard.” She waved her hand in front of her face. “And that horse stinks.”

  “Wait here. We will bring yer mother’s letters back.” He signaled to one of the stable boys to take Pippen away.

  “No!” She grabbed Pippen’s reins. “I’m well,” she said shaking her head. “Perfectly healthy. I would know if there was something wrong with me, wouldn’t I?”

  Caden frowned. “Healthy people don’t vomit their breakfasts.”

  The stable boy tugged on the reins that Meg wouldn’t drop. Poor Pippen’s head yanked from side to side.

  “Ye are ill. Alec, I’m sending for Rachel.” Alec agreed as Caden barked instructions to Kieven.

  “I am perfectly healthy.” Frustration picked at Meg’s temper. She wanted to go, to see where her mother had been happy. This special place where she had married Colin Macleod and spent time with the man she loved. “Please, Caden. I am full of health.”

  “Nay.”

  Ugh! No, no, no! She just had to go! Now that she was truly happy, she wanted to be in the place where her mother had also been so.

  “Losing yer stomach is not a sign of health,” Caden said low, and worked to unfold her fingers along Pippen’s reins.

  “It is if a woman is with child,” Meg said.

  A collective silence descended in the bailey. Even the birds seemed to stop their songs to listen. Holy Mother, had she said that out loud? Hell! That was far from the perfect way she’d imagined telling Caden.

  “We’ve only…been married five weeks,” Caden whispered.

  “Apparently you are quite potent and I was quite…ripe,” she whispered back.

  “How would ye know?”

  “I sense the physical changes in my body like I can with other people.” She placed her hand on her abdomen. “The babe is growing, changing, as it should at this early stage.”

  Caden’s eyes fastened on her belly, a slow grin breaking out along his face, banishing the frown and the furrow. Then his gaze moved to her eyes.

  “You see, I’m perfectly—”

  He grabbed her up into a fierce hug and twirled her around. “Love,” he said and set her down gently. “Thank ye.”

  “Well, I haven’t done much yet,” she teased, still tingling at the word “love.”

  Caden turned to the group. “She’s carrying my bairn!”

  A resounding “Hoorah” echoed about the bailey and Colin jumped from his horse. He charged toward her but halted a step away and then gingerly pulled her into his arms.

  “I will be a grandpapa,” he said, and then released her.

  Caden scooped her up in his arms. “I will be right back,” he said to the men and carried Meg to the steps of the keep.

  Alec snorted. “At this rate, we’ll never see that cave,” he groused, but murmured a blessing to Meg as Caden walked by.

  “Caden, I’m perfectly fine. The babe is healthy. I’m healthy. Even the queasiness is better.” Her words trailed off as Caden continued to stride toward the keep. She’d just given him an even better reason for leaving her behind. She sighed loudly. “You realize that after this bab
e is born, you will be taking me up there.”

  His eyes met hers.

  “I wish to be in the one place my mother was truly happy.”

  “I swear,” Caden said.

  She laid her head against his heart as he carried her inside and set her on a bench by the long table.

  “I’ll return by nightfall if all goes well. Don’t stay awake waiting.” Caden leaned in and kissed Meg on her forehead. “Och, lass, a bairn.” He ran his thumb along the contour of her cheek.

  Meg sighed and he turned for the door. Evelyn passed him on the way.

  “Make sure Meg eats,” he said as a parting order.

  Evelyn stared back and forth between Meg and Caden. “I know, she needs some more meat on her,” she said and walked toward the kitchens.

  After a quick breakfast of cooked oats and a slice of cheese, Meg busied herself helping Jonet and Ann with their tapestry, though it made her blush each time she saw the beautiful depiction of herself.

  She’d had fun in telling Aunt Mary and Uncle Harold about the babe and Evelyn had to sit down, she was so amazed. Since it was still so early, she asked them not to spread the word, although everyone in the bailey had heard.

  Late in the afternoon, Meg couldn’t stop yawning. “Evelyn, I think I will rest up in my room. Could you let Donald know that he doesn’t have to follow me around for a bit?”

  Evelyn left Meg alone in the cozy kitchen. Meg hummed as she leaned over the cook hearth. Caden’s babe. She ran her hand over her still-flat stomach. She loved it, just like she loved its father. Yes, she loved Caden Macbain. She loved his honor, his intelligence, his passion…even his Highland stubbornness. This little babe was the product of that love.

  “Meow.” The faint sound caught at Meg’s thoughts. “Meow.” A kitten, from the sound of it. She remembered the little ball of orange fluff that Bess had retrieved for her son. Had it gotten lost in the castle again, or were there other little balls of fluff roaming the corridors?

  Meg followed the faint cry to the back of the castle. The cat seemed to be moving farther away. Under a shadowy archway a door stood open. She’d never seen this particular door open before. Could one of the elders have ventured in and left it ajar?

  “Kitty, kitty,” Meg called. She lit a short candle. Where did the corridor lead?

  She crept along the dark path. “Kitty,” she called as the kitten mewed pitifully.

  Meg trailed her fingers along one rough wall and held the tallow candle higher to guard her steps. The ground sloped downward. She shivered as the chill sunk into her skin.

  She’d never gone below ground like this before. Uncle Harold’s root cellar had been deep enough for her, and she’d never liked to tarry long there. Perhaps it was good that she wasn’t venturing into the caves today with Caden. The dank smell and low, dark ceiling caused her heart to race. She almost turned back, but the sad cry of the kitten kept her feet shuffling forward in the pool of candlelight.

  Perhaps the passageway led down to the dungeons. She shivered at the thought that she could have been housed down here rather than in the warm rooms above with floors covered by thick rugs to block the cold seeping up from the stone.

  A narrow set of steps led nearly straight down. I should go back. The kitten let out a mournful sound. The little beastie was so close.

  Meg stepped cautiously into the black hole. When she reached the bottom step, her foot slipped and she leaned into the wall for support. Icy stone, like sharp fingers, sunk a chill through her gown. She jumped away from the wall toward an open cell and tried to ignore the stench of rotting hay and urine. “Where are you?”

  Meg held her candle higher and spotted the small ball of fluff toward a corner. “How did you ever find your way down here? Were you chasing a mouse?” she asked. “You are Peter’s kitten.”

  She pulled the kitten into her lap and tried to stand but the cat meowed as a tether pulled at its neck. “What’s caught you?”

  Meg frowned and the hairs along her nape prickled. A thin twine ran from the cat’s neck to a chain loop burrowed into the granite floor. The cat was tied to the loop with a double knot. Meg set it down and turned just in time to see the barred door swing shut with a clank. A cloaked figure stood on the opposite side.

  Meg’s heart rate flared. “Who are you? Why are you doing this?”

  The cloaked figure lowered her hood. Bess Tammin stood there, eyes wide. “’Tis for the best. She says that if you go, the English will stay away. I won’t lose my boy, too.”

  “Who says that?” Meg asked on a panicky exhale. So someone did blame her for bringing the English to their doorstep. Someone who was willing to hurt her to get rid of her.

  Bess turned and nearly flew up the ladder.

  “Bess, please!” Meg yelled. “Don’t leave me here. Peter’s kitten,” she called, trying to give the woman any reason to return. “Don’t forget Peter’s kitten.” The woman continued up, her boots clicking as she ran back through the dark tunnel.

  Meg realized that her breathing was shallow when small sparks moved into her periphery. She concentrated on taking full, long inhales and exhales while trying to ignore the pungent decay smell filling her.

  Think! She tried the barred door, but it had been set to lock as soon as it clicked shut. She rattled it, tried to squeeze through it, pounded on the bars around the cell.

  “Meow!”

  Meg turned.

  “We’re stuck,” she said and pulled the kitten into her lap. Her mind whirled around in a panic as she worked at the tie around its neck until the knot released.

  Meg smoothed the fluffy orange tuft of fur. How long would it take for them to miss her above? Would Bess come back, or the person who had convinced her to trick Meg down here? What were they going to do with her? Just let her waste away, starve to death?

  She glanced around the filthy, smelly cell. Her breathing had picked up again to match her pounding heart. She shut her eyes and imagined the open sky above her when she walked on the top of the keep. Blue, gray sky like Caden’s eyes.

  Oh, Caden! He would be so angry when he found her gone. Would he think she left without him, broken her oath? No, not with a baby growing in her. He couldn’t possibly think her so foolish, so cruel, could he?

  Her eyes flew open and she jerked on the iron bars once again. The walls pressed inward, making the room seem tiny.

  Meg’s breathing became shallow. Could air find her down here below ground? Good lord, what a terrible time to find out she panicked in small, dark places.

  She paced, searching for anything to aid her. She kicked at the molding straw, rat excrement, and decayed remains of food. A rusted water bucket stood parched in a corner. She wrinkled her nose as she moved away from the other corner, which must have been used as a place for prisoners to relieve themselves.

  “Help!” Meg screamed every few minutes, but only her echo answered. Her candle sputtered and she tipped it so the tallow could drip away from the flame. Ugh! How could she be so foolish as to follow the kitten without alerting anyone? She stood in the center of the cell, taking deep slow breaths through her mouth. The kitten rubbed against her ankle.

  Little claws caught in the fabric of her gown underneath as the cat pawed its way out. It stepped through the bars. Meg’s breath hitched. “Wait! Here, kitty!”

  The kitten padded back through the bars and Meg caught him. She glanced down her dress. Around her sleeve was a thin pearl decorative piping. Meg pulled the pins out that held it around her shoulder and tied the scrap around the kitten’s neck. No one would think that Peter kept a ribbon of pearls around his cat.

  When she’d made certain the scrap was on tight, Meg set the kitten back through the bars.

  “Shoo!” she said and made shooing movements with her fingers. The kitten hesitated. He let out a meow and jumped up the first step and sat.

  “That’s it, keep going,” Meg encouraged. The candle sputtered again. “Go now! Shoo!”

  The cat jumped
up the next step. Meg leaned into the iron bars and let out a loud exhale. This would take forever. She wrapped her shawl tighter around her shoulders and sunk down to clasp her knees to her chest to conserve body heat. The remaining tallow fat dripped off the candle wick.

  “No,” she whispered, the single word swallowed by the dank walls. The flame shrank until it was nothing more than a glowing dot in the smothering darkness of the dungeon. And then it was gone.

  Meg closed her eyes for as long as she could. Perhaps she dozed. How long had she been down here? She drew her fingers apart to form the blue orb of light.

  “Also quite good at lighting dark dungeons,” she said aloud with a sniff as the frigid, wet air racked her body.

  In the distance, she heard a faint “meow” and the sound of scratching. The kitten was still trapped on this side of the door. Meg let out a sob and leaned against the rusty iron bars. Of course Bess would have shut the door on her way out. What if the door was locked and no one bothered to come down here?

  “Help! Help me!” she screamed at the top of her lungs. She blew her light up until it flooded the cell with luminescence. “Help! I’m down here!”

  “Hello?” a paper-thin voice called from above. “Oh, a cat,” and then a sneeze. “Be gone.”

  Someone above had heard the cat and opened the door.

  “Help!” Meg screamed at the top of her voice. “Help! I’m locked down in the dungeon!”

  “Meg Macbain?” a man’s voice called.

  “Yes! Help, I’m locked in!”

  “Oh my, child,” the voice said louder.

  “Find Donald,” she called but the man continued closer. She could hear his footfalls. He landed on the bottom step with a small huff of exertion.

  “Father Daughtry? Father, help me,” Meg called and actually reached out with one hand.

  The priest stood staring at her other hand, the one she’d forgotten was holding the blue orb. “Good and holy Lord, I will not suffer a witch to live,” he murmured and backed up the steps.

  “I had no light!” she screamed. “Please don’t leave me here! Get Donald! Help me!” Meg continued to scream, hoping someone else would hear her because she wasn’t sure if the priest would help her or lock her back in.