by Fiona Faris
“Do ye have a plan tae free her?” James asked.
“That all depends on how far ye are willin’ tae go tae defy yer faither and aid us in our endeavor?”
“What e’er it takes, I will do what needs tae be done, but I refuse tae slaughter my own people. They are blameless in my faither’s deception.”
“I cannae promise that I will no’ kill yer faither, James. Ye should be aware o’ that afore we set out. If ye cannae bear the thought, ye are welcome tae remain here as my guest ‘til our return.”
“Yer guest or yer prisoner?”
“Ye may call it what ye like, but I cannae risk ye warnin’ yer faither o’ our comin’.”
“I will help ye tae get Marra back, but I want nae part in yer schemes tae kill my faither. Nae matter the man he might be, he is still my faither.”
“Fair enough,” Duncan nodded. “How can we enter the castle with the least amount of casualties?”
The next hour was spent in planning, James drawing diagrams of the fortress’ defensive strengths and weaknesses. After prompting from James, Duncan swore never to use the information he was given in any way but to save Marra. “Ye cannae use this information tae attack my people at a later time, Duncan. Ye must swear it.”
“I swear it,” Duncan agreed. “There has been enough bloodshed in recent days.”
“Aye,” Ian nodded solemnly in agreement. “That there has.”
The three men banned together to create as fail proof a plan as they could without involving anyone that could possibly be the spy. James was unaware of who it might be, but he accompanied Ian around the village to see if he recognized anyone as having recently visited Skye. When they returned from the village, Ian brought Liam and Robert MacDonald with him. “Look who has returned tae us from our highland clansmen,” he informed Duncan with a grin.
“Ye have been gone a long time,” Duncan noted suspiciously.
“Some chieftains took more persuadin’ than others.” Robert cracked his knuckles while Liam grinned, as if remembering something he found to be quite amusing.
“It sounds as if ye have had a time o’ it since our departure,” Liam noted, looking Duncan up and down. “Ye are laird now?”
“Aye,” Duncan nodded.
“There was much talk upon our return about all that transpired in our absence. ‘Tis sorry I am for ye tae have suffered such a betrayal after all ye have done tae protect our people, but I have tae say, Duncan, that I am less than pleased tae hear o’ Marra bein’ captured again while under yer care.” Liam frowned, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Aye,” Robert nodded. The brothers stood shoulder to shoulder, a solid wall of highland muscle. Their matching looks of disapproval would have been comical were it under different circumstances.
“I am less than pleased myself, lads,” Duncan remarked, sighing. “But ‘tis glad I am that ye are here.” Deciding to trust Marra’s cousins, he laid out for them all that had transpired and their plan to get Marra back.
“We ken who yer spy is,” Robert informed him as Liam nodded in affirmation.
“Who?” Duncan demanded to know.
“The emissary tae Skye. Ye remember, Ian, the one ye sent tae call for vengeance.”
“That seems as if it were another lifetime ago,” Ian admitted.
“Aye, that it does,” Duncan nodded in agreement.
“Well, he is yer man,” Robert confirmed. “Liam and I saw him creepin’ about the village this mornin’ when we rode in. We heard tales o’ him switchin’ loyalties all the way up north. Apparently, Alexander MacDonald likes tae boast o’ his conquests whether great or small.”
“Would ye like for us tae bring ye the treacherous vermin responsible?” Liam offered, perhaps a bit too excitedly. The anticipation of the fight to come practically made his face glow with pleasure.
“Aye, I would like tae get my hands on the weasel myself,” Robert agreed with his brother’s offer.
Duncan looked from brother to brother and would have laughed if the situation were not so dire. “Aye, bring him tae me. Ian go with them and see that the man is brought back tae me alive. We need tae ken what all he has told the Laird o’ Skye.”
“Aye, my laird,” Ian answered and turned to walk away.
“My laird?” Liam and Robert questioned in unison as they followed Ian.
“Aye, he and Marra were handfast the day she was taken,” Ian informed them as they walked out of the door.
“Handfast? Ye and Marra?” James asked, a mixture of disappointment and resignation crossed his features.
“Aye,” Duncan nodded, feeling only slightly bad for his competition.
“Congratulations,” James nodded, extending his hand in truce. “The better man clearly won.”
“No’ better, James, simply the right man for her. Ye will find yer lass and then all other lassies will be no’ but a dim memory.”
“I hope ye are right,” James smiled. They shook hands and then turned to climb up onto the dais at the end of the hall. Sitting down at the high table, they awaited the spy in their midst.
Marra sat in the great hall next to Alexander MacDonald. He had returned to her prison after her second bath and dragged her down to dine at the laird’s table with him. He toyed with the knife in his hand as he watched her out of the corner of his eye. He is testin’ me afore James’ arrival. If I do anythin’ tae rebel against him, he will follow through on his threats tae me and tae Duncan. She sat in fear and pretended to be the laird’s guest as best as she could. She had not been given a knife to dine with and was forced to use her fingers. She had hoped to stash a knife in her sleeve, but Alexander had anticipated her every move thus far and had cut her off at every turn.
Marra closed her eyes for a brief moment to blot the sight of the laird’s face from her view, but she found that even then, he was still their in her mind, threatening her, leering at her. Opening her eyes, she scanned the people at the tables below the dais. Are they oblivious tae the monster who rules o’er them? Do they care? She had never heard a negative word spoken against the Laird o’ Skye, and yet she knew him to be among the most monstrous of men. How can that be? My faither was nae well liked among his fellow chieftains, and yet Alexander MacDonald has nae such reputation. I dinnae understand.
“Are ye nae hungry, my dear?” the laird asked from beside her, his voice that of a concerned father-in-law, but his eyes held an entirely different sentiment.
“Nae, I am no’ hungry,” she murmured in reply. Her stomach was riotous from all of the fear, anger, and anxiety that roiled within her.
“Perhaps a wee bit o’ bannock tae settle the stomach,” he offered, breaking off a piece of his own bannock for her and shoving it into her mouth. Leaning forward he whispered in her ear. “When I say eat, ye eat, whether ye are hungry or nae. Ye will act the happy bride or ye will suffer the consequences.” He leaned back smiling and said for all tae hear. “Is my son’s bride nae the bonniest lass ye e’er did lay eyes upon?”
“Aye,” came the chorus from those below.
“A toast then, tae Marra MacDonald, the Lady o’ the Isles!” he raised his tankard in one hand while his other wrapped itself in a steely grip around her shoulder.
“Tae the Lady o’ the Isles!” the crowd roared with a great deal of stomping and clanging.
That night the crowds became quite intoxicated in celebration of their new lady. To them all was well and good in her arrival, a MacDonald wed to a MacDonald. Not a one of them questioned her happiness or asked her if she was pleased with the arrangement. No one thought it strange that she had arrived without her own people. No one knew that she was a prisoner and those who did know, did not care. She had begged the maids to help her, but her pleas had fallen on deaf ears. When Alexander had entered, catching her in her attempts to persuade them, he had punched her in the stomach, where she had directly fallen to her knees in pain, gasping for breath. He had directly hauled her to her feet and escorted her down the st
airs to the hall.
“Ye are mine,” the laird whispered in her ear, pleased with his people’s response to her. “Forever.”
Forever is a verra long time. An entire night and day had passed since she had been taken from Duncan’s embrace. This cannae be the rest o’ my life, her heart cried out in protest. Duncan where are ye?! Please come and rescue me. I dinnae care if Alexander kills me in the attempt, I cannae live like this for the rest o’ my life. She willed her pleas to reach Duncan’s heart. Escaping Alexander’s grasp was worth the risk of death.
A commotion at the door caught Marra’s attention. “Ah, James has arrived,” Alexander announced genuinely pleased. “Remember our agreement, daughter-in-law.”
“O’ course, Faither,” she humbly answered, bowing her head. She would play his game for now, but someday somehow she would find a way to escape him, or she would take her own life. There was no way on earth she was going to allow Alexander MacDonald to own her. He might have control of her body, but he would never control her spirit.
James moved through the crowd approaching the dais. When he reached his father, he embraced him and then Marra. “What a pleasant surprise tae find ye here upon my return!” he greeted joyously. “What has brought ye here?”
“I have come tae take my place as yer wife,” Marra answered weakly, unable to meet his eyes. She hated lying to him, for she had no such intentions. Either Duncan would rescue her, or she would throw herself off of the top of the castle walls, before she would willingly lay in any other man’s bed.
“And what o’ Duncan?” James asked.
“He is nae longer able tae protect me.” At least that part was not a lie.
“Oh?”
“Aye.”
“Well his loss is my gain then,” James replied merrily, taking her into his arms once more. Releasing her he moved to sit beside her at the table. They ate together, James telling his father of all that he had accomplished concerning their business ventures.
“I am well pleased, my son,” the laird replied, smiling with pride. When he looked at his son there was no hint of the terrible monster that lay just under the surface.
“I am glad, Faither.” Turning to look at Marra, James grinned. “Is this no’ the most joyous of occasions?”
“Aye, it is, son,” his father agreed.
“I thank ye, Faither, for yer wise guidance in this matter. Had I listened tae my own misgivings, Marra would no’ be here with us now.”
“Ye are young yet. One day ye tae will ken what is best for yer own son. ‘Til then ye have me.” The laird laid an affectionate hand on James’ shoulder.
“A more blessed man there cannae be.”
“Indeed.” The laird looked well pleased with himself as he raised another toast, this time to his son.
When the dinner was done, James arose to his feet, extending his hand to Marra. “Shall we away tae bed, Wife?”
Marra looked from James to Alexander. The look on the laird’s face left no room for interpretation. Marra placed her hand in James’ and arose from the table. “Aye, o’ course, Husband.”
“Splendid!” Alexander exclaimed and escorted them up to James’ bedchamber. “Sleep well.” He smiled as they disappeared within, and James locked the door behind them.
Chapter Thirty-Four
“James, I…”
James stopped her from speaking by pressing his lips to hers. He groaned loudly in pleasure and picked her up tossing her onto the bed. Marra squealed in fright and panic. He undid his belt and let it fall noisily to the floor. Marra squawked again when he removed his clothes and stood before her naked, his rod hard and at the ready.
“James, I…” she tried again.
“Be quiet, wife, and let us find a more useful activity for that tongue o’ yers,” he commanded.
A raucous laugh sounded from outside of the door and then the sound of Alexander’s footsteps echoed down the hall as he returned to the hall below. James’ demeanor changed immediately, and he gathered his clothing from the floor, putting his shirt back on. “I am sorry, lass,” he murmured softly as he moved to help her from the bed. “I had tae make it sound real.”
Marra sighed with relief as she realized that the James she knew had not lost all of his senses. “Thanks be tae God.”
James chuckled and belted his kilt back on. “Aye, ‘tis a blessin’ indeed that I visited yer husband afore comin’ home tae Skye.”
“Ye have seen Duncan?” Marra asked hopefully.
“Aye, congratulations on yer marriage,” he answered.
“Is he comin’ for me?”
“Aye, he is already here.”
Duncan, Ian, Robert, and Liam all waited in the darkness below the keep, hidden by the jagged rocky terrain. Their band of men was small but skilled. With James helping them on the inside, their plan had become exponentially more likely to succeed, but it still brought with it a great many risks, not the least of which was being attacked even after they succeeded in rescuing Marra. James had instructed them to wait by the back gate, promising that he would get Marra out of the castle and bring her to them. Getting her safely back to the boat and then to their own lands was their job. Even then there was a high probability that Alexander would cross the sea once more, this time to kill them all. They had all argued for killing the laird and ending the risk to Marra’s life, but James had disapproved. As his help was incremental in getting Marra out of the fortress, they had all conceded on the grounds that if Alexander came after them he was fair game to their swords.
Duncan stirred restlessly as he waited, searching the darkness for any sign of her. “She will come, Duncan,” Ian reassured him. “’Tis a good plan.”
“Aye,” Duncan nodded firmly in an attempt to convince himself.
Hours passed, and the castle eventually grew quiet. Villagers stumbled home to their crofts, intoxicated from the feast, while the guards chatted and drank atop the fortress walls. One of the guards made a rather uncouth statement about what he would do to Marra if she were his wife, and Duncan stiffened, his hand tightening around his sword. “Easy,” Ian murmured, cautioning him to remain calm. “Their words cannae harm her, but Alexander MacDonald can and will.”
Duncan took a deep breath to steady himself. The idea of anything happening to Marra had him on edge far more than any other raid would have. He had been tested in battle and knew his metal, but the thought of any harm whatsoever befalling Marra, and he was wound tighter than a bow string. A sound off to their left had the men turning, swords at the ready.
James opened the bedchamber door and peered out into the corridor. He stepped out and stood waiting for a moment before he motioned for Marra to join him. He turned and guided her down the hall to a narrow flight of stairs that led to the kitchens below. The kitchen was dark, but for the faintest of glows from the dying embers in the fireplace. He opened the back garden door and led her out into a walled kale garden. The walls towered overhead, and there was no sign of any other opening to the outside world. Grabbing her skirts he lifted them up tucking them into her waistband. “James?” she questioned.
“Trust me,” he whispered reassuringly and taking her hand led her over to the far wall. He placed her hand on a protrusion in the wall. “Do ye feel that?”
“Aye,” she nodded.
“There is another one above it. Do ye feel that?” James placed her other hand above the last.
“Aye.”
“Then climb.”
“Climb?”
“Climb,” he replied placing his hands under her rump and pushing her upwards. Marra scrambled with her feet until they achieved purchase among the stones. “I will be right behind ye,” he promised.
Marra climbed silently up into the darkened sky until she reached the top of the wall. James climbed up after her, joining her at the top and then swinging himself over the side, dropping down into the inky blackness below. “James!” she whispered fearfully in surprise.
“Jump,” came his vo
ice commanding her from below.
“Have ye lost yer mind?!” she hissed down to him.
“Nae, now jump or return tae my bed. Those are yer choices. That or death o’ course.”
Taking a deep breath Marra did as he commanded and plummeted down in the darkness. To her surprise she landed in a rather large pile of straw. “Straw?” she asked in disbelief at their good fortune.
“A local farmer owed me a favor.”
“Thanks be tae that.” By now she was bordering on hysteria. Tired beyond belief, frightened nearly out of her mind, and giddy at the chance of escape, she was bordering on temporary madness.
James grabbed her hand and led her over to a rocky outcropping near the shore. Rounding the edge they came face to face with four drawn blades flashing in the moon’s light. “Marra?” Duncan’s voice called from the dark.
