An Outcast's Wish (Highland Heartbeats Book 3)

by Aileen Adams

  Maccay merely laughed and shook his head as he topped the rise. “Since when have I ever needed help from you?”

  “She can sit there, on that rock over there,” Sarah said, pointing.

  She turned to her sister and stroked her belly, an unconscious movement that Alis had seen her doing on numerous occasions. She was a lovely woman, inside and out. She would make a good mother.

  Heather watched as Maccay carried Alis over to a large rock and gently lowered her down onto it. She felt every bulge of his rock-hard muscles as he did so, admitting to herself that she was reluctant to leave his embrace. Her hands lingered on his shoulder a moment longer than was probably necessary, but then he straightened and cast his gaze over the landscape.

  “Heather, over there, I think I see some bog bean. I could use some of that, and over there, a bit further, I believe I remember seeing some Blaeberry… maybe the cook would like some of those, perhaps to make some tarts or if there’s enough, to make some dye.”

  Heather nodded and idly swung her empty basket.

  Sarah pointed to the other side of the field, closer to the edge of the hill. “I’ll be going over there.”

  Alis watched as Sarah adroitly pointed out various flowers and plants she wanted to gather, impressed by such skill. Although she knew a few plants, she mostly recognized them by their pretty flowers or their leaves, not for their medicinal or healing properties.

  “Maccay, Agnes told me there’s Meadowsweet up here also. If you’re not too busy, can you gather a handful or two for me?”

  Alis looked up at Maccay as he stared at Sarah with a dumbfounded expression. Finally, he replied. “You want me to pick flowers?”

  “Yes, if you would be so kind.”

  Alis held back a grin.

  Sarah looked innocent enough, but Alis recognized the sparkle in her eyes and the glance she had sent her sister.

  Maccay sighed heavily, as if greatly put upon. “I suppose I could, if I knew what it looked like or what it was.”

  Sarah made a face at him and Alis chuckled.

  These three were good friends, she could tell. In fact, everyone in the manor house seemed to be very close. That sense of camaraderie, of friendship and loyalty, and that devotion to family touched her deeply.

  She gazed out at the landscape, again wondering how she could sense that she had missed out on such things. Was her memory coming back?

  “It’s over there near the edge of the woods,” she pointed. “It’s a low-lying shrub with dark green leaves, with tiny white clusters of flowers.”

  Maccay started to move off.

  “Oh, wait, Maccay, do you want my basket?”

  Maccay gave her a look and she burst out laughing.

  As Maccay moved off, Sarah turned to look down at Alis.

  Alis would have laughed as well, but feared it would hurt. Her ribcage was still tender.

  “Are you feeling all right? You’re strong enough to sit there without help?”

  Alis smiled up at her. “Yes, thank you. And the sun does feel good on my face.”

  She watched as Heather and Sarah, each carrying baskets, began to wander through the field. She tried to turn to see where Maccay had gone, but the movement caused pain as her muscles protested. So, she ignored him for the time being, allowing herself to relax and absorb the warmth of the sun on her face.

  The land was rugged and beautiful, this field itself surrounded by trees dotting the mountainside rising behind them. The panorama before her nearly took her breath away. Lush and green, the air was fresh and scent of wildflowers growing in the field delighted her senses. She listened to the birds chirping, the rustle of the breeze through the trees, causing the long grass in the field to bend slightly, undulating with life and vigor.

  Down the slope—the steep slope—she barely saw the thatched roof of the manor house and its outlying buildings. She watched the movements of several people going about their afternoon chores in the fields beyond.

  Threading its way beyond the manor property, she followed the dirt path weaving its way along meadow and pond in front of the manor toward the outskirts of the village in the distance.

  Duncan… Duncan… the Duncan manor house. Sarah and Heather. The laird Phillip and his brother Jake. She hadn’t seen that one yet, but she had caught a brief glimpse of the laird the day before, before he left on some errand with several of his men. A tall, imposing figure of a man, the sight of them had caused a shiver to ripple down her spine.

  She repeated their name over and over in her mind. It seemed oddly, vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t imagine why, or where the memory had come from. Did she live in the region? She thought again of the laird.

  Maccay had caught her eye, frowning toward Alis, as if he could see right through her. It had been no more than a passing impression, but it had startled her nevertheless. It was almost as if… as if he recognized her. But if he had, he surely would have said something?

  No one else at the manor house that she had come into contact with expressed any hint of recognition. Likewise, nothing about any of them triggered a memory in her mind.

  She realized she had been imagining that look he had given her. She had misinterpreted a look of curiosity with something else.

  She wasn’t aware of the passage of time, focused only on how wonderful the sunshine felt upon her skin. It was invigorating.

  She had been cooped up in the manor house for several days, and before that she had no memory other than the sheltering canopy of trees in the woods, unable to see more than a short distance in any direction and too afraid to venture far from her camp to explore.

  And there it was… another small memory. Not a memory really, but rather something that she felt rather than visually remembered. She pushed the worrisome thoughts from her mind and concentrated on the field in front of her.

  Then realized how quiet it was.

  The birds had stopped singing.

  She frowned.

  Sarah stood on the far side of the field, near the edge of the slope that overlooked the manor house. It was quite steep and Alis worried that she might be getting too close. She glanced around to see if she could find Heather or Maccay, maybe gesture for them to keep an eye on Sarah.

  Heather had her back turned her at the northern edge of the field, hunched down on her knees. Based on her movements, she dug at some roots. Alis thought she recognized the yellowish flowers of Braonan fruich. The knowledge startled and pleased her at the same time. Maybe her memory was coming back.

  She pulled her thoughts from her ability to identify the root as she watched Heather.

  Where was Maccay?

  Carefully and ever so slowly, she twisted around to see if she could find Maccay over where Sarah had directed him to gather the Meadowsweet. He was nowhere in sight. Had he gone back to the manor house? She wasn’t sure.

  She turned back toward Sarah. “Don’t get too close to the edge, Sarah,” she called out.

  Her voice didn’t carry far, the breeze blowing toward her. She was weaker than she had thought. A hearty shout would have been sufficient, but she couldn’t even manage that.

  She shifted her position on the rock, not sure what she should do. Surely Sarah was experienced enough with the landscape around the manor house, and with her gathering of herbs and roots to avoid getting too close to dangerous places.

  Nevertheless, her swollen belly might prevent her from moving as deftly as usual. Maybe she should—

  Something hard slammed into Alis from behind. With a gasp, Alis was propelled forward, landing face down on the ground beside the rock, the breath knocked from her lungs. Pain exploded in every part of her body.

  What—she grimaced in pain, her head throbbing anew as she looked up to find a wild-haired woman standing over her, a rusty-bladed dirk raised high in her hands.

  Wide eyed and stunned, Alis could only stare up at her, mouth open, no sounds coming out because she couldn’t breathe. Why—

  Before Al
is could move, the woman wearing the dirt-smudged and torn tunic stepped past her, her gaze focused on Sarah, hands extended in front of her, one clutching the knife, the other extended like a claw, tipped with dirt encrusted fingernails.

  Where had the woman come from? What did she want?

  Alis didn’t like the look she had briefly seen on the woman’s face. Obviously mad, or seemingly so.

  When she realized the woman was heading for Sarah, she tried to scramble to her hands and knees. Her body didn’t want to move. She tried to call out a warning, but her lungs protested her efforts. Where was Maccay? She quickly glanced toward Sarah, her back turned away from her now, unaware of the woman quickly approaching from behind.

  Now on her hands and knees, Alis realized that the woman intended Sarah harm. Heart pounding, disbelief surging through her, she tried to shout warning, but as before, her voice was not loud enough to carry the distance.

  She turned to look toward Sarah’s sister. “Heather!”

  Nothing.

  Heather kept digging. Alis forced herself to take a deep breath, ignoring the sharp stabs of pain in her chest. She had to do something! The wild woman was stepping ever closer to Sarah. She shouted as loud as she could. “Heather!”

  Heather lifted her head and looked toward Alis.

  With supreme effort, Alis lifted a hand and pointed toward Sarah. She turned to look over her shoulder, immediately rising when she saw Alis on the ground.

  Alis lifted her arm again and pointed toward Sarah.

  Heather glanced in that direction, then shot upward, flinging her digging tool to the side as she broke into her run, screaming.

  “Sarah! Sarah, look out!”

  Alis watched the scene play out in disbelief. This couldn’t be happening. Why… where had the wild woman come from? Why did she seem intent on Sarah?

  Sarah turned, saw the wild woman now rushing toward her, arms outstretched, as if she intended to push Sarah over the edge of the slope.

  Heather kept shouting as she lifted her kirtle and ran toward both of them.

  “Ceana! Ceana, don’t!”

  Sarah needed help.

  Without thinking, Alis reached for a fist-sized rock near her hand, and then slowly scrambled to her feet, heart pounding, pain thrumming through her body as she forced herself to her feet and staggered toward the two women, wanting to do something, anything, to help.

  She watched in horror as the wild woman reached for Sarah and pushed her. Hard.

  With a startled cry, Sarah toppled to the ground.

  Instead of reaching down with an arm to break her fall, she wrapped her hands around her belly and tried to twist as she fell so that she’d land on her back. She landed hard, eyes wide, mouth open in a silent cry.

  Alis saw the wild woman lift her hand, saw the rusty blade. She tried to shout, but Heather was already closing in on the two.

  An outraged scream erupted from Heather’s throat as she bore down on the wild woman.

  Alis was not far behind.

  Heather got to Sarah just as the woman crouched down on one knee on Sarah’s other side, ready to plunge her knife deep into her belly.

  Garbled sounds escaped her throat.

  With an angry, feral growl, Heather grasped the woman’s arm, twisted her around and tackled her to the ground. They both rolled in the dirt.

  “Heather!” Sarah cried.

  Sarah tried to rise, one hand gripping her belly, the other braced against the ground as she watched in wide-eyed horror as Heather and the wild woman fought for the knife.

  Alis staggered forward, her legs weak, her body trembling not only from exertion, but fear. She clutched the rock tightly in her hand, forced herself to push past the pain, past the blackness that threaten to encroach on her vision. Go… go! Help them!

  She had made it halfway to Sarah when suddenly, the two fighting women separated, Heather lying on the ground on her back, her forehead bleeding, the wild woman scrambling to her feet, weaving, the knife now held low in her hand.

  She gazed between the two sisters, as if trying to decide which one to kill first.

  “No!” Alis gasped.

  The wild woman stepped past Heather and once again focused on Sarah, struggling to rise, cradling her belly, eyes wide… but not afraid. No. Not afraid. She was angry, her nostrils flaring, baring her teeth, her eyes riveted to the woman’s face.

  Heather struggled to roll over as well, scrambling to her knees, desperately trying to tug her kirtle and undergown from around her legs as she managed to rise to her feet.

  Once more, the wild woman raised her hand, the blade of the knife high before it swung downward.

  Sarah lifted her arm, blocking the blow with her forearm while again twisting on her back, one arm still protecting her belly as she lashed out with a leg, but missed the woman.

  What Alis could only describe as a cackle erupted from the woman’s throat as she swung downward again with the knife.

  Alis took a chance, paused, gritted her teeth and swung her arm back. She heaved the rock with all her might toward the woman’s head.

  It missed her head but struck her shoulder, just enough to even distract her from her focus on Sarah.

  For the briefest of moments, she turned to glanced over her shoulder. The woman’s face was twisted with hatred, her mouth open in a grimace, her eyes shining with madness.

  Alis quickly and desperately searched the ground for another rock.

  A loud scream of rage broke the silence and Alis darted her gaze toward Heather as she scrambled toward her sister, the look on her face fearsome, jaw clenched, face red with emotion, the veins in her forehead throbbing visibly, blood dripping down her cheek. She grabbed the wild woman around the waist and twisting forcefully, hurled her over the side of the slope.

  Heather stood at the edge, her braid hanging over her shoulder, her eyes wide, hands balled into fists, her chest heaving with fury. Alis scrambled to Sarah’s side as Heather finally turned to kneel by her sister.

  “Sarah! Sarah, are you all right?”

  Alis reached her at the same time and placed her hand on her shoulder, urging her to lay still as her sister assessed her for any injuries.

  “The baby… is the baby all right?” Heather asked frantically, stroking Sarah’s hair, her other hand resting gently on her sister’s stomach.

  “We’re all right,” Sarah managed. “Just… we’re all right.” She turned to Alis. “Are you all right?”

  Alis was astounded by Sarah’s concern for her. “Yes… yes, I am.” She looked at Heather. “You’re bleeding.”

  Heather touched her fingers to her forehead and then withdrew them, glancing down at the blood. “We’re all right… we’re all right.”

  The sisters stared at one another, both obviously startled by the incident while Alis tried to make sense of it all.

  “Who was that?”

  “An evil woman,” Heather muttered, visibly trembling with emotion as she glanced over her shoulder. She quickly stood and moved to the edge of the slope, gazing downward.

  “Is she..?”

  “She’s not moving,” Heather said. She looked up and searched the field. “Where’s Maccay?”

  7

  Maccay rose to his knees and leaned back, lifting his face to the sky, reaching for the back of his head—which throbbed with pain—his thoughts confused and fuzzy. His fingers came away sticky and wet and he glanced down at them.

  Blood.

  He stared at the blood, stunned, for a moment, and then cursed and stumbled to his feet, wobbling dizzily for several seconds as his vision slowly cleared.

  The women!

  He stepped from the edge of the tree line, his gaze automatically moving toward the rock where he had left Alis.

  She wasn’t there!

  He glanced to his left, but didn’t see Heather either. He could see her basket lying on its side on the ground, flowers strewn around it.

  His heart pounding in panic, he dar
ted his eyes toward the edge of the field near the edge of the steep slope, then groaned when he noticed Heather hunched over her sister, while Alis was on her knees nearby.

  Flinching, dread roiling in his stomach, he made his way across the field, afraid of what he would find.

  Someone had snuck up behind him and clobbered him in the head while he was plucking flowers.

  Of all the foolish, nonsensical things he had ever done in his life.

  He had been given a job to protect them, and he had failed.

  It didn’t matter why.

  He reached the women and took everything in in a glance. Sarah lying on her back, knees raised, hands cradling her belly as she stared up at her sister. Heather, hovering over her, arms wrapped around her waist as if in self-protection. Alis on her knees next to Sarah, one hand on her shoulder, the other bracing herself on the ground.

  “Maccay...” Sarah looked up at him, eyes still wide with fright. “It was Ceana.”

  Ceana!

  He quickly glanced around. “Where is she?”

  Heather silently turned toward him and then, unwrapping an arm from around her sister, pointed toward the edge of the slope. “Down there.”

  “Are you all right, Sarah?” Maccay asked, hoping his panic was not discernible. “Did she hurt you?”

  Sarah didn’t answer right away, but then shook her head. “She pushed me, but I think I’m all right. Help me up.”

  All three of them reached for her, but Maccay pressed down on Alis’ shoulder and told her to stay put while he reached for Sarah’s arm.

  Between Maccay and Heather, they pulled Sarah slowly to her feet. They didn’t let her go as she stood for several moments, assessing her condition. She took several slow breaths, hands supporting her belly, all three of them watching her carefully.

  “I’m all right,” she breathed. She looked at her sister, frowned when she saw the cut on her forehead. “She hurt you.”

  Maccay glanced at Heather, who stared at her sister with wide eyes, as if surprised by the comment.

  Heather continued to tremble, her face ashen as she quickly glanced down at herself, then shook her head. “No, no, I’m all right…” her voice wavered as she turned to Maccay. “I—I threw her over the edge of the slope!”