by Aileen Adams
The room swam crazily around him for several moments and then steadied.
He looked up at her with satisfaction. “See? I’m all right.”
She glowered down at him, then heaved a put-upon sigh. “Maccay, you need rest. You lost a lot of blood—”
“And what if Alis is laying out there in the woods, wounded, or…” He didn’t even want to contemplate what might be happening to Alis. Or what would happen if the McGregors managed to get her within their own clan again.
She had already been banished and left for dead. They would make sure of it this time.
“Maccay—”
He looked up at her. “I love her. I can’t just leave her to the McGregors. You understand that, don’t you?”
“Of course I do. Believe me, I do understand. But what good is it going to do Alis if you die out there trying to save her?” She tried to coax Maccay back down onto the bed. “Let Hugh and Phillip take care of it.”
He was prepared to respond when Phillip entered the room, Jake behind him, and then Hugh.
Maccay’s eyes widened with disbelief before he erupted. “Why aren’t you out there looking for her?”
Phillip approached the bed while Jake, his face red with anger, followed his brother with his eyes.
Hugh refused to meet his gaze altogether.
Maccay turned toward the laird. “Phillip, why isn’t anyone out looking for Alis—”
“Maccay, you know that this is a precarious situation. We—”
“The longer we wait to follow, the further they’ll take her away!” Maccay interrupted, his voice raised with anger.
How could they stand here? He glared at them until Sarah placed a hand on his shoulder. He looked up at her and saw her eyes filled with tears. If anyone sympathized with his emotions, it was Sarah.
“Maccay,” Phillip said, tone low. He wasn’t speaking to him as a friend at this moment, but as the laird. “We cannot risk war with the McGregor clan, especially if they have joined forces with the Orkneys.”
Maccay stared at him, heart thudding dully in his chest, stomach clenching into a tight knot. “Phillip, what are you suggesting? Are you suggesting we just let her go?” He turned to Jake. “What do you say, Jake?”
“It doesn’t matter what he says,” Phillip spoke into the awkward silence. “I am the laird. I don’t like this decision, but I have to think of our people. Alis… Mairi, is a McGregor. She belongs to their clan. Would you have me risk slaughter of our own people by keeping someone who doesn’t belong to us?”
“You’re saying that to me?” Maccay questioned, disbelieving. “You’re saying that to me?” Frustration overtook pain, then rising anger. He pointed to Sarah. “And your wife, and Jake’s wife… did they belong to you before you took them?”
Sarah gasped.
Maccay knew that he should not dare take such a tone with the laird, but he didn’t care. At the moment, he didn’t care what Phillip thought. He needed to find Alis. He continued without waiting for Phillip to respond. “You do know that they’re going to kill her.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement. He turned to Hugh. “Did you tell him what you overheard at the McGregor campfire?”
“Aye, I did.”
Maccay turned from his friend and looked once again to Phillip. “In spite of everything you know, that she was banished, beaten, and then thrown to the wolves, you still refuse to go to her aid?” He glanced at Sarah, then back to the laird. “She saved Sarah’s life. She saved your baby’s life.” He shook his head and closed his eyes, nearly overwhelmed with disappointment and sadness. “And this is what she gets in return?”
“Phillip,” Sarah said into the ensuing silence. “Maccay is right. You brought me here from Kirkcaldy, and Heather too, of her own free will. And then when the Orkneys kidnapped me, you didn’t hesitate. I didn’t belong to the Duncan clan then. I didn’t even belong to you, not as your wife. And yet you risked a renewal of bloodshed to come after me.”
Phillip turned his wife, eyebrows low, his voice soft as he spoke. “Sarah, neither you nor Heather belonged to an enemy clan, let alone the McGregors.”
“And if I had?”
Phillip said nothing while he and his wife locked gazes.
Heavy with child, Sarah stood calmly, back straight, chin lifted as she refused to bend to her husband’s will.
Laird or no, Maccay was once again taken with Sarah’s determination and humbled by her loyalty to him and those she held dear.
“Is it Alis’ fault that she was born a McGregor?” She shook her head. “I admire her whether she is a McGregor or not. She is a woman who stood up for herself, regardless of the potential consequences. She paid dearly for that. We helped her, Phillip. We brought her here. And now, all of that is for nothing? Means nothing? If so, then we should have just left her in the woods to die.”
“Not to mention the fact that Maccay is in love with her.”
All eyes turned toward the door.
Heather stood there, arms crossed over her chest, looking at each of them in turn. “She has no memory of her life before us. How awful it must be for her!” She stepped into the room, dressed in tunic and leather breeches like Alis. “Don’t forget that in spite of the fact that some of us believed she was a spy, she came back to give us warning of our stepfather’s approach.” She stared at the laird, just like her sister had. “Is this how we repay her?”
Phillip muttered a growl, deep in his throat, then spoke, hands cocked on his hips. “What can I say to make any of you understand? She’s a McGregor! Much as you might disapprove and disagree, the laird has the right to arrange marriages however he sees fit, and—”
“Phillip!”
He lifted a hand toward Sarah, his face red with anger. “I don’t say I agree with the practice, I am merely stating reality. The laird has the power to do as he pleases. I have no right to interfere—”
Maccay, tired of the argument, slowly rose. “I will go after her myself.”
“Maccay, you can’t! You can still bleed to death out there!”
Hugh stepped forward. “I will ride with you, Maccay—”
“Enough!” Phillip snapped. He cast a warning look toward Hugh. “No one will ride unless I give them permission to do so, is that understood?” He eyed each of them.
Maccay broke the silence. “Phillip, I have never gone against you in any way. I have been loyal to you since we were children. But I can’t… I can’t let Alis… we can’t leave her to the McGregors. They’re going to kill her! They’re going—” His voice cracked and he paused, closing his eyes in an attempt to calm the nearly overwhelming surge of emotion that rushed through him.
He felt a gentle hand on his shoulder and opened his eyes.
Sarah stood beside him.
“Phillip, please.” Her gentle voice broke the tension in the room.
Phillip heaved a sigh, shaking his head. “It’s not that I don’t have sympathy for her plight. I do! Do you think I’m some sort of animal, without emotion…” He too paused.
“Phillip, if I have to, I’ll go away,” Maccay said. “But Alis needs to have a choice, maybe for the first time in her life. If you feel that our being together will endanger the clan, we’ll go somewhere else. They want her dead. Do you really think that they’re going to want to wage war for someone they’ve already tried to kill once?”
“That makes sense,” Hugh said. “Maccay and I will go look for her. We can—”
“You can what?” Phillip interrupted. “Kill Clyde McGregor? Those other men with him? For certain, that will renew the bloodshed—”
“That bastard Clyde tried to kill me, no thanks to Ceana,” Jake broke in. “We all know that Clyde is nothing but trouble. I would venture to say that Angus McGregor is more than aware of that.” He rubbed his whiskered chin. “Maybe it’s time that all of the clans came together… for a little talk.”
Phillip shook his head. “You know as well as I do that Angus McGregor is stubborn and will cling to
the feud no matter how many years pass under his feet. But you may be right.” He paused. “Clyde McGregor is a thorn in his side, I know that much. And he and I both know that you would be within your rights to seek vengeance against him, but that doesn’t mean—”
“I won’t kill him unless I have to,” Jake muttered. “But I know one thing. That lass is out there all alone, once again facing an uncertain and most likely unpleasant future. Do you really want us to just stand by and let it happen?”
“You all know that it’s not about what I want? Or what I feel? I like the lass as much as anyone else, but—”
Sarah interrupted. “The moment we took her in, the moment we accepted her, she became one of us. She doesn’t remember her past. She doesn’t remember any of it. I believe that. Chances are, after all this time, she will never remember. Oh, maybe little bits and pieces, but I’ve seen this once before.” She turned to Maccay. “There’s nothing wrong with her, with her mind.”
“Sarah—”
She turned to her husband. “Yes, Phillip, going after her might initiate some problems, but the McGregors don’t want her. They don’t want her!”
“They’re going to kill her,” Heather said, as quietly as her sister, but the force of her words was not to be doubted. “What if… what if we manage to get her away from the McGregors? Then spread the word that she died—”
“Heather!”
“Jake, think about it,” Heather continued. “If they think she’s dead, they’re not going to bother looking for her anymore.” She turned to her sister, and then Phillip. “They probably only found out about her through Ceana. And now Ceana is dead. Who’s going to know?”
Maccay felt a surge of affection for Heather.
Both she and Sarah were strong, devoted, and loyal, not only to one another, but all the members of their clan. And now to an outsider who had no one to turn to but themselves.
He stood, hiding his pain, which after a few moments ceased throbbing and dulled to a constant ache. “I’m going, Phillip. If you don’t want me to return, say so now.”
Phillip looked at him, still frowning, then glanced at the others. He was outnumbered and knew it. “Fine,” he muttered. “Jake, you and Hugh go with Maccay—”
“I’m going too,” Sarah said. “Maccay might need me, and Alis… she might need me too.”
“No, absolutely not,” Phillip snapped, staring down at his wife. “And nothing you can say is going to change my mind on that.”
“I’ll go,” Heather volunteered, glancing at her sister. “I think I know enough to provide some help. I can take some healing herbs and supplies, just in case.”
Maccay turned to Sarah, saw that she didn’t like it, but she placed her hands protectively over her belly and nodded.
Sarah then turned to her husband. “Well, Phillip?”
Phillip said nothing for several moments, then glanced at Maccay, Jake, and Hugh in turn. “Go well armed. Do what you have to do. I suppose we’ll just have to deal with any ramifications later.”
In less than an hour, the men were mounted.
Heather climbed into her own saddle and reached for the satchel Sarah lifted up to her—a leather pouch containing a variety of herbs, tinctures, and bandages that Sarah had fashioned from old linen. Maccay waited on his horse, trying to hide his pain and weakness from the others. The moment he showed any sign of either, he had no doubt they would leave him behind, and he wasn’t about to let them go after Alis without him.
He loved her.
He would give his life for her.
He just hoped that they could catch up to the McGregors and wrest her from their grasp before was too late.
24
Alis fought against the urge to give up. Crying and bemoaning her fate would not help her. It was hard not to feel despondent, exhausted… cold, hungry, and afraid, but she forced herself to think. To think of a way to free herself from his tree.
Unfortunately, she had yet to succeed.
After Clyde McGregor had left her, she had spent most of the day scraping rope between her hands against the tree, hoping that somehow, the rough bark of the pine tree would start cutting through the rope.
She tugged, closed her eyes against the pain of her skin scraping against the bark, trying to focus only on this particular task, to no avail. It wasn’t working. At least, it didn’t seem like it.
The bindings felt as tight as ever. Every muscle from her shoulder down to her wrists screamed with pain. Throughout the hours of the afternoon she had tugged, yanked, and even tried to slide her body down the tree trunk, hoping that might help loosen her bindings, but nothing worked; Blond Hair had bound her wrists tightly.
Every moment struggling to free herself, trying to ignore the pain, trying not to worry about what would happen later, she thought of Maccay. Was he alive?
As twilight approached, exhausted, she abandoned her efforts, focusing instead on her surroundings. The tree to which she was bound was located on the bottom of a slight slope.
Able to glance at short distance behind her, she saw the woods were filled with pine, spruce, and elders, the underbrush thick. Out in front of her, a short distance away through the trees, she saw the edges of a small meadow. In the same direction, she heard the gurgling of a small brook. That wasn’t good.
Soon, animals would venture from the dense woods looking for water. She was in their path. That meant not only the possibility of rabbits and squirrels, but possibly wild cats, Sika deer, wolves, and possibly even wild boars.
She tried to ignore the hollow feeling in her stomach. More than anything she wanted to feel Maccay’s arms around her, telling her that everything was going to be all right.
Nothing would be all right.
No matter what happened, her presence would cause trouble for the Duncan clan. She was an embarrassment to the McGregors. She resolved, if fortunate enough to escape her present situation, she would just have to make her way through life on her own. Somehow.
That thought devastated her.
It hadn’t been until that moment when she saw Red Beard stab Maccay that she realized just how deep her affection—her love—for him had grown. That love had burgeoned gradually, but now, knowing that he might be gone, she felt his loss as if she had been stabbed herself.
Even if he did manage to survive, she couldn’t put him in more danger, nor anyone else of the Duncan clan. She would not bring trouble upon them, now that she knew the truth about her identity and her history.
It didn’t matter that she didn’t remember any of it. She didn’t remember living with the McGregors or where she had made her home. All she knew was that they had tried to kill her.
Her own uncle, leader of the McGregor clan, had ordered her banished, beaten, and thrown to the wolves! Her cousin had been part of it. Perhaps even her own parents and siblings—if she had any. She didn’t want to belong to such a family.
As twilight approached, ever so slowly ebbing into darkness, she heard animals scampering about. A rabbit emerged from under a nearby bush and froze when it saw her, nose twitching, ears laid back against its body, staring at her before deciding she was no threat. Eventually, other animals ventured toward water, including the expected deer.
Then, as overwhelming fatigue caused her to droop against her bindings, painful as that was, she heard another sound—one that filled her with dread.
In the distance, a wolf howled, its cry repeated a few moments later by another. She prayed that they were upwind of her, that they wouldn’t catch her scent on the night air. Defenseless, she had no way to ward off an attack. With every passing moment, her heart pounded harder. The howls of the wolves grew closer.
She glanced down at her feet, but couldn’t see anything save pine needles and a crushed pine cone. Nothing even remotely helpful in warding off an attack, bound hands or not.
What if—
A long, low growl captured her attention.
She peered into the darkness.
&nbs
p; A meager shaft of early evening moonlight shone through the trees. There, a short distance ahead and a bit to her right, she saw the wolf, his gray coat just slightly lighter than the darkness around him. He hunched low, creeping toward her, now issuing a near constant growl that erupted from deep in his chest.
Her heart pounded so hard she felt it would burst. A cold chill raced down her spine. Her gaze riveted to that of the wolf, she realized, for the first time, seriously realized, that she might not manage to escape.
The wolf crept closer, maybe twenty feet away before it paused, head low to the ground, yellow eyes still watching her every move.
Could he see the pulse pounding in her throat? Could it sense and smell her fear?
No!
If she was going to die, she would die fighting to the best of her ability. Tamping down her panic, praying that the Lord would accept her soul if it was really her time, she screamed. Not a frightened scream, but an angry scream, shouting at the wolf, ordering it to go away. She made her voice sounded as fierce and strong as possible.
The wolf froze, likely startled by her outburst. He stared a moment, then turned and slunk into the shadows of the woods beyond.
She heaved a shaky sigh of relief.
Every bone in her body felt like it had melted. She knew better than to think that this would be the end of it.
In time, the wolf would return. Each time, he would grow bolder. She might be able to scare him away one more time, maybe two, but then? Wolves were smart. Because she couldn’t move, she was easy prey. She could kick out at him, lash out with her feet, but what good would that do? The wolf would merely clamp her foot or her limb in his mouth, able to crush bone and tear blood vessels.
She would bleed to death. Or be eaten alive. Or—
Frantic, she renewed her efforts to loosen her bindings. Tugging, yanking, groaning against the pain. The skin of her wrists bled but she kept trying. She had to get loose or by dawn there was a good chance she would be ripped to shreds. Even if she wasn’t by then, the wolf knew where she was, and soon, so too would others. She would be no match for them.
