My Highland Rebel

by Amanda Forester

  “Where is my brother?”

  “I think, perhaps, this was his plan,” reassured Brother Luke, though his brow wrinkled in worry.

  A faint movement caught her attention. It was someone trying to grasp and pull their way to the top.

  “Core!” She rushed forward to the male figure, who was coated entirely in gray dust. She helped him out of the rubble, with Luke assisting him on the other side. Core stood up, brushing himself off…except he wasn’t Core.

  “Who are ye?” she demanded of the tall man with a bushy black beard.

  “This is Donnach Campbell, Lady Jyne’s guard,” said Luke, his face impassive.

  “That’s the man we caught on the first day!” said Dubh, moving forward. “I thought Core killed him.”

  “Apparently, he did not,” replied Bran with his usual cool demeanor.

  “Ye were going to kill me?” Donnach accused Dubh.

  Dubh gave him a shrug.

  “Perhaps I owe Cormac an apology,” muttered Donnach.

  “Where is Cormac?” asked Bran.

  Donnach shook his head. “He’s down there. Where is Lady Jyne? She was down there with us.”

  Everyone looked around, but she was nowhere to be seen.

  “Lady Jyne?” called Breanna, walking to the edge of the rubble pile. “Lady Jyne!” she called as loudly as she could, her heart pounding in fear. No one answered.

  “Jyne!” shouted Donnach even louder. No reply.

  Breanna looked at Luke, searching his face for answers. He seemed to know Cormac had been planning something. Was this possibly part of the plan? Luke joined her in looking down into the smoking hole, his face one of true concern. Something had gone terribly wrong.

  “Jyne and Cormac have been buried alive. Quick, we must help them.” Breanna grabbed a stone and tossed it aside. She could not lose her brother and Lady Jyne in one day. She swallowed down dread. How could anyone survive this?

  She heaved another one and realized she was the only one working. “What are ye waiting for?” she demanded.

  Bran stood with his men on one side, glaring at Donnach, Luke, and the elders, while they glared back. She strode boldly in between them. “Did ye daft fools no’ hear me? We need to get them out!”

  “Stand aside, Breanna,” growled Bran. “I see ye got a verra nice sword there, Brother Luke. Ye’ll hand it over to allow me a closer look.”

  “This sword bears the crest of my family. It will be taken from me only upon my death,” said Luke, stepping in between Breanna and Bran. Behind him, Donnach, still pale gray with dust, appeared to be a ghostly figure bent on vengeance.

  “As ye wish,” said Bran, reaching for his own great sword.

  “Nay! Ye’re being foolish,” said Breanna, though she was more than a little impressed by the way Luke faced down Bran. Not many men had the courage to do that. Yet nothing good could come from confrontation, so she put herself between Bran and Luke once more. “Stop this. Everything we want is down there.” She pointed to the pile of rubble. “Core, Jyne—”

  “The treasure?” chimed in Dubh.

  “Aye, mayhap that too,” agreed Breanna, though she had no idea if any riches lay below. “We need to work together to get it.”

  “Lady Breanna is correct. Cormac and Lady Jyne need our help. We must try to rescue them,” said Luke.

  “And find the treasure!” said Dubh.

  “Red Rex is on his way. There will be a reckoning, Breanna,” warned Bran. “Ye may want to leave now,” he added in an undertone.

  “He is right,” said Luke, surprising her by agreeing with him. “We should leave.”

  “Nay! Lady Jyne has been naught but kind to all o’ us.” The elders nodded in agreement.

  “She done gave us a sleeping potion,” complained Dubh.

  “Be grateful she did not give you poison,” countered Luke.

  “She would no’ rest if any one of us was buried alive. Ye ken it to be true. I will no’ be the one to let her down. Who is wi’ me?” cried Breanna.

  “If you are determined to stay, I will stand with you,” said Luke. His support made her slightly giddy. She felt she could conquer any foe.

  “I winna rest until I free Lady Jyne,” declared Donnach.

  “Aye, us too,” said the leader of the elders.

  Bran pursed his lips and frowned. “Fine. We will help search for Lady Jyne and Cormac and, aye, Dubh, I know, the treasure.”

  Before anyone could change their mind, Luke organized them into work crews to excavate the rubble. This was a new side of Luke that got Breanna’s heart thumping more than it already was.

  She needed to focus on the work at hand. She glanced over at Luke with a smile. Now if only they could reach Jyne and Cormac in time.

  Thirty-two

  Jyne struggled against the imposing nothing, which felt poised to swallow her whole. It was hard to tell whether her eyes were open or shut, because it was just as dark with them opened as closed. She put a hand up to her face to feel her lashes so she could tell that indeed her eyes were open.

  She shuffled forward, tripped, and stumbled.

  “It’s so dark.” She had never been entirely comfortable in the dark. Now she was trapped in a darkness so impenetrable, it felt like it was closing in on her.

  A warm hand touched her shoulder, and despite whose hand it was, she welcomed the connection. He slid his hand down her arm and attempted to hold her hand, but she pulled away. He was her enemy. She may have accepted a truce to find her way out, but that did not mean they were on friendly terms.

  He released her hand, and she immediately tripped over a rock and wished she was with someone whose hand she could hold. She needed connection with another human being to know that she was not alone, trapped in the darkness—just not a connection with the man who unfortunately walked beside her.

  They made their way slowly forward, feeling their way into the cavern leading to the crypt. Jyne tried not to think of it. They shuffled along, tripping over rocks and stumbling forward as best they might.

  Her head pounded from the thunderous blast, and her eyes ached for some form of light. The total darkness was unnerving. At night, the stars shone, and the moon gave its light. Even on nights when the clouds covered the moon and stars, there was usually some point of light, a red ember in the hearth, a glow of the lantern, something for her to know that the world around her still existed and she had not fallen into nothingness. Despite her intense dislike for the man beside her, she shuffled nearer to him. To be entombed alone was unthinkable.

  “Do ye have a name, Fire Lord?” She did not wish to speak with him, but the silence was even worse. She had to talk to someone, and he was the only someone available.

  “Ye can call me MacLean, though I doubt the clan would wish to claim me.” His voice was low and gravelly from the dust.

  “So how does one become a warlord?” she asked as if inquiring about the weather. She needed conversation to distract her mind from the terrifying reality that grasped at her chest, making it difficult to breathe. She needed to know something of this man, something that would make him more human and less a nameless, faceless monster. How did a man who studied alchemy, could quote scripture and work wonders, albeit destructive ones, use these gifts for evil?

  “’Twas requested I continue the family business.”

  “Family business?”

  “My sire is Red Rex, perhaps ye’ve heard?”

  “Aye, I’ve heard.” Red Rex, the scourge of the Highlands. He had a nasty reputation for being cruel, destructive, and utterly wanton in his desire to inflict pain and suffering on others. Clans that could agree on nothing could still work together to rid their lands of such a man. “When I was a child, my nursemaid used to frighten me into eating my morning gruel by telling me Red Rex would come for me if I dinna eat it all.�
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  MacLean chuckled beside her. “My father would be pleased his name was used to terrorize small children. Did it work?”

  “I learned to feed it to the dogs when she wasna looking. I was always the smallest o’ my siblings. I dinna think my nursemaid ever forgave me for being weak.”

  “Someone thought ye weak? ’Tis hard to believe.”

  “My sisters and brothers are all of a hearty constitution. I was verra small at birth and often unwell as a child. Out of all of us, I was the only one prone to frailty. There are fifteen of us, ye ken.”

  “How many?” His feet scuffed on the ground.

  “I am the youngest daughter o’ fifteen siblings.” She paused, allowing him time to process the number. It was not unusual to have many siblings to start with, but to have them all survive to adulthood, that was unique to her clan.

  “That is a goodly number o’ siblings.”

  “It’s a goodly number o’ people telling me what I’m to do.” For some reason, being in the complete dark made it easier to speak to MacLean. Easier to try to forget what he was.

  “Ah, ye wished for more freedom.”

  “Aye,” said Jyne, surprised he understood her so readily. “I was overprotected and coddled, and nobody expected much from me. Mayhap, I dinna expect much from myself.”

  “This description o’ yerself doesna match my experience of ye. For ye have been a formidable foe.”

  Jyne could not help flashing a smile in the general direction of MacLean. “No one has ever said that about me. In truth, I am known as the runt of the litter.”

  “Then they are fools, for there is no weakness about ye.”

  Jyne felt her step grow lighter at the unexpected praise. If she could only escape, it would be her turn to tell tales around the fire.

  They both stumbled at the same time, tripping over a rocky ledge in their path. She lurched forward, but he caught her before she hit the ground and righted her back to her feet.

  “Careful o’ yer step,” he said, still holding her upright. His arms were warm around her.

  “Aye.” She took a deep breath, trying to stop her heart from pounding. She desperately wished to be free of the cave, to see the light again. She lingered in the comfort of his arms for a moment before she realized what she was doing. It had all felt so natural. What was wrong with her?

  She cleared her throat and scuffled back. “Ye said there was a back gate that was blocked by a cave-in. Where is it?”

  “I am no’ certain. I only heard of it from Brother Luke.”

  “If he said it was here, then it must be somewhere.” Though how they would find it, and what they would do even if they did find the right place, she hardly knew.

  It was hard to say how long they stumbled their way through the darkness. Was it a matter of minutes? Was it hours? She no longer cared to know. Whatever it was, it was much too long.

  “How is it ye came to quote scripture?” she asked when she could no longer stand the silence in the oppressive blackness.

  “My father was not one for children, so I was raised by others who taught me well. I even attended university.”

  “Ye went to university?” She could not prevent the surprise in her voice. This was not what she expected.

  “Aye. Two years at the University o’ Edinburgh. Until they found out who I was. The lads at school were sons of lairds and wealthy merchants. The son of a notorious warlord was no’ welcome.”

  “Perhaps ye should’na have revealed it,” she suggested.

  “Aye. I told a lad I thought was my friend. I was wrong. Before the end o’ the day, the news had spread through Edinburgh. The next morn, I was called before the chancellor and told to leave school immediately. I had not the correct moral fiber for a university student. Where’er I went, people turned their backs, grabbed their purses, and watched to see what mischief I might do.”

  “And did ye?”

  “Did I what?”

  “Did ye do mischief?”

  He paused, and there was a low chuckle. “Aye. I fear wi’ everyone waiting for me to do something deplorable, I could hardly disappoint.”

  “What did ye do?”

  “I had been studying alchemy. Many had told me it was impossible to bottle thunder, but I proved them wrong…in the dining hall. Och, ye never saw such whooping and running about over a few small pops. Then I took off on the master’s own horse.”

  “Ye destroyed the dining hall?” Jyne was horrified.

  “Nay, I had only been able to make loud noises, not destruction at that point.”

  “Oh.” She was somewhat mollified but still could not condone it, though she suspected her brothers might have seen the humor. “But ye ought no’ to steal.” She felt the need to return the talk to something more moral.

  “The master o’ the boarding house where I lodged owned a very sweet mare. She was a lively stepper, fast but skittish. She caught sight o’ something and threw him, so he beat her until the blood ran down into the cobblestones.”

  “That’s horrible! I am glad ye stole her. That man had not the right to keep her.”

  “Oh, he had the right. But he did not keep her.” She expected him to sound smug, but instead, he spoke the words in a matter-of-fact tone.

  “Do ye still have her?” she asked.

  He took a deep breath before answering. “Nay. My father saw I favored the mare, and he believes affection is a weakness. He was determined to cure me o’ the affliction. Made me watch while he killed her.”

  Jyne gasped and placed a hand over her mouth, a pointless gesture in the pitch-black of the cavern. “Red Rex is truly evil.”

  “I know none who would disagree wi’ ye.”

  “Ye as well?”

  “Me most of all,” he said with a sigh.

  MacLean was not what she had expected, and while she was relieved not to be stuck in the underground tunnels with a true monster, his strange behavior kept her unbalanced. It was easier to hate him.

  “And yet even knowing what he was, ye still joined him. Ye were so hurt over yer unfair expulsion that ye inflicted yer vengeance on the world by joining the most bloodthirsty, notorious warlord the Highlands have ever seen.” She attempted to reestablish the moral high ground and felt better for it. Her bravado made her take too large a step, and she tripped over a rock and fell to the ground, skinning her knee. She hissed in pain.

  His hands were upon her instantly. He felt along her head, where she had long since lost her veil, to her arms, and lifted her to her feet before she had time to protest. He held her close, helping her keep her footing.

  “Ye think my expulsion was unfair?” he asked. He was so close, she could feel his breath on her cheek. His question caught her off guard, for he spoke like nothing untoward was passing between them though he held her in his arms.

  “No one should be judged by the sins o’ their father.” It was strange in the dark, but she felt a strange attraction to the man. A pull toward him that defied explanation. It was as if, in the dark, he was no longer her enemy but a different man altogether.

  He said nothing but continued to hold her close, chest to chest. She could feel him breathe, short and quick. She had no doubt he must be able to feel her heart beat through her kirtle.

  “Even if their father is Red Rex?” he finally asked.

  She paused. She did judge him for his father, yet her feelings and her beliefs were not in concert.

  He let her go. “I thought so.”

  “Nay, ye should’na be judged by yer father. Ye should have the chance to be the man ye wish.”

  MacLean made a sound of derision, something like a snort. “That is one thing I have never had.”

  “Why did ye return to yer father?”

  “It was not my choice.”

  Silence fell in the darkness. Jyne coul
d not stand it for long. “I am sorry.”

  “We should move on.”

  “Aye.” They began to shuffle along, Jyne with her arms out in front of her. She took a few steps and ran into his arms, which were also extended.

  How could she escape when she could see nothing? A lump formed in her throat, and tears pooled in her eyes. She might spend hours walking in circles and not know it. Her bottom lip began to tremble, and she wrapped her arms around herself as protection from the chill of the cave. She was going to die here, slowly, trapped beneath the earth, buried alive.

  She sniffed and blotted her eyes with the back of her sleeve. It did not matter now what she did. A wave of despair crashed down on her.

  His hand found her once more and rested on her shoulder, warm and comforting.

  “We will escape this place,” he said with confidence.

  “How?” she whispered.

  “I dinna ken, but we will.”

  She shook her head in the endless dark. “There is no hope. We shall be trapped in here forever.” Her voice cracked. All the fear and doubt and worry that she had been pushing aside finally caught up to her, winding its icy tendrils around her chest, making it difficult to breathe.

  He ran his hand down her arm until he grasped her hand. “We will not die here.”

  She took comfort in the firm assurance of his tone. If only she could believe him. “I fear there is no hope.”

  “Did ye no’ tell me earlier that there is always hope?”

  “I said there was grace enough for everyone.”

  “Well, if the good Lord can forgive a sinner like me, then He can certainly help ye find yer way out of a cave.” MacLean spoke with such authority, Jyne almost could believe him. Almost.

  She squeezed his hand. In that moment, she did not care who he was or what he had done. She was on the edge of desperation and grief, and he was there, comforting her when she needed it most.

  They began to shuffle forward together, still holding hands. She should have let go, but she didn’t. She needed him now like she had never before needed anyone. “Thank ye.”