Her Highlander's Heartl (Highlanders 0f Cadney Book 2)

by Fiona Faris

  “And you,” Elias continued, turning back to the maid and pulling her up by the arm. His grasped hard enough to elicit a yelp from the lass. “You are coming with me. You have a lot of explaining to do.”

  Thomas became suddenly alert, pushing Samuel off him as he rushed at Elias. “VIOLET! Hands off her, Elias!” he shouted before being tackled to the ground by Samuel and the other two men.

  It would be easy for Elias to just kill them both, but without knowing what was truly going on and where Milly was, he was not prepared to do that. Just yet.

  “Careful with th’ lad, Sam. He is not at full strength as of yet. He only cares for his lass.” He needed the maid to give him information, and he wouldn’t get that from her if her lover was dead. He looked at Thomas being held down by three men and shook his head. Kneeling down so that only Thomas could hear what he was saying, he whispered in the lad’s ear, “Go nicely now, lad, and nothing happens tae th’ lass. I only need information. But if ye struggle or fight, I cannae guarantee her safety. And ye are not yet well enough to fight off three men.” Thomas hung his head and stopped fighting. Elias grinned and patted him on the head. “That’s a good lad.”

  He pulled Violet back up by the arm and led her away from the men and to his suite of rooms. He would get his information from her one way or another.

  * * *

  “Do you know what happens to lasses who lie to me, Violet?” Elias asked pacing the floor of his chamber, the distraught maid sitting in a small chair by the hearth, shivering, but not from the cold. She was terrified of him, and that was exactly what Elias wanted.

  “I’ve not lied, sir. Not once.”

  Elias groaned. He had been questioning her with regard to Milly’s whereabouts for almost half of an hour with no results. She had responded to each of his questions with vague, noncommittal answers, and it was maddening. So far all he had learned was Milly was not in her chambers, which he easily deduced himself when he found the ill Highlander in her place. He knew Nathan was involved with this fiasco somehow, but he couldn’t seem to get anywhere with the maid.

  “Shall I throw you in the dungeon with your lover then, lass?”

  “I should hope not, sir,” was Violet’s only response.

  “So you do not know where your mistress has gone?”

  “Not exactly, no.”

  “And you do not know who she has gone with?”

  Violet gave him a weighted pause. Finally, he thought he may be getting somewhere with the stubborn wench. He leaned in close and rubbed a stubbed, calloused finger down her cheek. She turned away from him, but not before he saw the tears in her eyes that threatened to fall. Smiling, he thought he had her exactly where he needed her. Now he would strike at the heart of her.

  “Violet, my dear, it would be a shame if your precious Thomas did not make it out of the dungeons. He is quite ill, you said so yourself. ”

  Tears were open flowing down Violet’s cheeks now, yet much to Elias’ puzzlement she still held her head in defiance. He paced the carpet in front of her, rubbing his hand against his chin as if to ask—what would we do with you girl? Refusing to speak a word against her mistress, Elias decided to try a softer approach. He had no sympathy for the wretched girl, but sometimes a softer hand was needed to accomplish one’s goal. If he were a better sort of man, perhaps he would admire Violet’s loyalty. But everyone had a weakness, and Elias knew the Graham lad was Violet’s. He would get what he wanted from her. “Come now, sweeting, tell the future Laird what of your mistress, and all will be well, you have my word.”

  “Your word?” Violet asked. “How’s your word worth even a pence, sir? Ye’ve locked my betrothed in that rotting pit again. And for what? Nay, even if I did ken anythin’ I wouldn’t be revealin’ it tae ye.”

  The door to the chamber opened and Sam walked in. Elias gave no real notice except to lift his eyes from Violet’s.

  “Is the Graham lad back in his cell then?”

  “Aye, my Laird,” Samuel responded.

  “There’ll be a special place in hell for yer betrayal, Sam,” Violet spat. The man only laughed at her. Elias paid Violet no mind. Instead he turned his full focus to Samuel.

  “Is the other maid still nearby?”

  “Aye, Laird.”

  “Bring her in.”

  Samuel stepped from the room for a moment before returning with Fiona. Elias wondered at the meaningful glance shared between the two. Could it be his man was keen on the lass? That could be a problem in the future, but he was too close to the answers he needed to worry about it at that moment.

  “Fiona is it?”

  “Aye, my Laird, Fiona Glover.”

  “Ahhh yes, the Glover family, good clansmen. Tell me lass, Samuel says you may know more about the whereabouts of Lady MacGille?” The girl nodded and Elias took delight in watching Violet’s eyes grow wide. Now they were finally getting somewhere.

  “When ye sent me tae fetch th’ lady, four days back, I overheard her an’ that one there, Violet, speaking in hushed tones about a prison. At th’ time I thought nothin’ of it, but when Samuel came back and told me where he had gone, I remembered.” Elias couldn’t be more pleased. It seemed young Fiona had chosen her side and Elias had her loyalty. Whether it was through affection to Samuel or not was no matter, the girl told him everything he needed to know. The MacGille lass had indeed run off with his cousin. They thought to free her brother. Perfect. It was almost too perfect.

  “Fiona, don’t!” Violet screamed, and Elias, done with being kind, slapped the maid firm across the face.

  “You had your time to speak, lass!” he growled at her, and then to Samuel, his plan came to fruition. “Thank you, lass,” he said to Fiona. “You may leave us, your honesty will be well rewarded.” For the second time in a week the lass gave him a curt nod and ran from the room. He turned back to Samuel who was watching the young maid take her leave with an intended gaze.

  “Samuel, put this insolent one into the cell next to her lover. Let’s see how she likes being in the keep’s dungeons. Then quickly as you can come back to me. I’m finally giving you a job you want. You will ride toward Perth. Take any men you need. I want you to kill my cousin and bring the lady back to me. Unharmed!”

  Elias smiled as Samuel grabbed Violet by the arm. She didn’t fight, she didn’t scream, which Elias thought was too bad. He knew Samuel liked it better when there was a fight. As they walked by Elias, Violet simply spat in his direction. Nonplussed, he stepped out of the way.

  “Save your spittle, lass, you may need it sooner than you think.”

  He couldn’t be happier by the day’s events. Not only will Samuel bring back his bride, but he will be able to clean his hands of his cousin, once and for all.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Late January, 1690. Perth, Scotland

  “You smell rank!” Milly exclaimed through the thinly veiled spiced fabric of her kerchief as they made their way through the streets of Perth to the gaol. She wasn’t wrong. The thick aroma coming off Nathan was enough to make a lesser man retch. He had decided they should walk, getting a hired carriage or hack would be near impossible with the state of him. He’d had to disguise himself for quests in the past, but he could honestly say this was the first time he had ever dressed in manure drenched clothing. He hadn’t failed to notice the wide berth given to him by everyone who dared draw to near. It was working exactly as he had hoped.

  “All part of the plan, my lady,” he replied, giving her a little wink as she groaned and tried to step away from him. He pulled her arm and brought her back close. “Ye hae tae stay close, Milly.” He gave her a sly wink and crooked smile. He knew it was torture having to smell him, but he would gladly share the stench with her.

  Her groan swallowed by an awe inspired breath that hit Nathan in the gut as they approached the gates to the prison. He was learning each small sound she made had a different meaning, and he was surprised to find himself eager to learn every one. The prison was awe
inspiring and forbidding. It was a long stone building with high walls and turrets on either side facing the cobbled street below. It looked quite like a castle looming over the land, protecting the inhabitants from invading enemies. Perhaps, he thought once, long ago, it might have been. But now, Nathan knew it was quite the opposite. Men suffered behind that stone, and not all of them deserved to be there. There were no holes or windows in the walls to allow for any daylight to enter. The pain and suffering of the unfortunate souls left to rot inside gave the place a strong feeling of desolation. He knew Milly felt it as well. She gripped his arm tightly, smell forgotten as he thought she must be realizing the enormity of the task at hand. He kept her held tight against him.

  “Just remember, lass, use th’ English accent and yer natural charms, we will get in. All will be well.” He placed one hand over her arm and gave her a gentle squeeze. It was meant to reassure her that all would be well; although, Nathan was starting to feel unsure himself. He’d managed to learn the English commander who led the garrison in charge of the prison was a man named Daniel Hopkins. The men he spoke too said the commander was generally of good disposition and rarely interfered with the guards or the inmates. Preferring instead to stay in his offices or chambers corresponding with lords and ladies back home in England, he had a reputation it seemed of constantly attempting to parlay his position in the military and as a gallows warden into rank and privilege back home. He seemed to hold himself as rather dandy. Thus, leading Nathan to believe the commander would most likely not make an appearance for a poor merchant’s daughter and her mute brother. Especially as they were only attempting to dole out pious charity for the poor, sad prisoners. It was a common practice, and quite solidly beneath the commander’s station as he saw it. At least, so Nathan hoped. It was the guards that could prevent them access. Any hint of foul play on the part of Milly or Nathan could pose a potentially deadly problem. Nathan gripped the hilt of his sword hidden underneath his robes to reassure himself the blade was still there.

  They were still far enough away. Nathan felt he needed to remind Milly one more time, or else their plan may go awry. “Lass,” he whispered, pulling her into a small alcove. “I need ye tae ken, when we find Gavin he may be injured or ill. Getting in may be the easiest of our challenges. Will ye be strong enough tae leave him, lass? If only for a small bit so I can get word tae your brother Lucas and we can form a plan?” She looked at him with tears brimming the tips of her soft lashes, but her chin jutted out and in straight defiance she refused to let them fall. Hell, she was brave. It was all he could to do remember the stench of manure on himself and not take her into his arms.

  “Aye, Nathan. I can, as long as ye promise he’ll not be left too long.”

  “Ye have my word, lass.”

  As they approached the front gates, Nathan felt Milly tense up beside him as two guards approached.

  “Oy, who goes?” Nathan, keeping his head low, couldn’t tell which of the two spoke, but Milly stepped up and turned on her charm.

  “Oh, my apologies gentlemen, my father is a merchant here in Perth temporarily doing business. He bade me and my poor fool of a brother come to the gallows and pass charity along to any of the poor souls imprisoned here.”

  “Is not something that’s done, miss? Be gone wit’ ya,” the first guard said. Nathan began to tense himself, not the warmest of welcomes. Milly grew indignant.

  “Not done? Why whatever do you mean, sir? You are English, are you not? We are the better nation. It is our duty to bring the word of God and some peace in charity to these poor souls! Pray tell, how many Englishmen are inside these walls? When is the last time anyone prayed for the souls of the poor devils you have housed here.”

  Nathan was impressed, not only by Milly’s accent, which was delicate but firm, but also by the tenacity she showed in not backing down.

  “What about th’ man here? We should let ‘im in wit’ ya?” The second guard now felt it proper to chime in. Nathan tightened his hand around the hilt of his blade. If the situation was going to turn against them, it would happen now. He put his head down again and made a muffled mumbling sound with his throat. He was supposed to be her deaf brother, so any response he had to the men and their questions would be an immediate reveal of their lie.

  “My brother, kind sir, as I said. Poor boy is deaf, and quite dumb I’m afraid. Yet father insists I bring him along, hoping that he will be not only a chaperone, but that I may infer some good works upon his poor soul as well.” She patted Nathan’s arm, and he looked up at her in awe and with just enough of a sideways glance to see the men cover their noses at his smell. “Truly gentlemen, I won’t be but an hour, just enough to bring the word to the men inside and please my father.”

  “Do ya see any harm in lettin’ the girl in, Greeves?”

  “Only if the Commander finds out, he’d ‘ave our heads.”

  “Nah, not with a pretty English lady such as ‘er.”

  Listening to the men go back and forth was mind numbing for Nathan. Oh how he wished they would just get on with it. Either let them pass or send them away so they could reconvene with another plan, but the endless bantering between the two dolts as they tried to figure out the correct course of action was endless.

  Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the two guards agreed to let Milly in with the express warning that her brother was to be with her at all times, and she was not to speak with the prisoners on any topics other than family or God. Nathan released a long held breath. He was impressed by how deftly Milly had handled the men and got them inside. The guards gave her a torch and bade her watch her steps as the stone flooring could sometimes be slippery. Milly nodded and gave appreciated thanks, and then they were alone.

  Immediately, Nathan shrugged off his robe, leaving it where he would be sure to find it once they needed to leave. The smells of the prison were exactly as he had expected. Death and illness loomed everywhere around them. Moans of prisoners could be heard, and Nathan wondered how many men they would have to weed through to find Gavin, if he was here at all. Milly started walking slowly up and back through the corridors whispering for Gavin. So much bravery in one small lass, Nathan felt his heart swell. A big man rushed the bars of his cell upon seeing her, the clanging of metal against stone causing her to jump, losing the kerchief she held. Nathan reached out to settle her.

  “I’ll be who yer lookin’ for, lass.” The prisoner gave her a menacing, toothless grin as he reached his hands through the baring. Milly let put a yelp of surprise. Nathan pushed forward. He recognized the Highland in the man’s speech, but still gripped the hand of sword, glaring at the man growling until he backed off.

  “Mind yerself, man. ’Tis not ye we are lookin’ for.”

  “No harm, lad, no harm.” The prisoner lifted his arms in surrender, but the leering smile at Milly never left his lips. “Been a long time since a bonnie lady been through here, is all.”

  “This bonnie lady isnae for ye,” Nathan replied, moving to place Milly behind him between himself and the prisoner’s cell. “Name yer clan.”

  “Name’s Kennedy, but I hae no clan,” the man said.

  “Well Kennedy with no clan, we’re here lookin’ for someone specific. Gavin MacGille. Ginger, big as a coo, soldier, fought at Dunkeld. Ye seen or heard?”

  Nathan stared intently at the man. He wanted to see every twitch, any slip of recognition in the man’s eyes at his description of Gavin. He felt Milly holding her breath behind him.

  The man rubbed his chin with his hand. “What’s it werth tae ye?” he asked.

  “It’s worth the world.” Milly said, peeking around Nathan’s shoulder.

  “The world is an awful lot tae give, lass. I’d settle for whatever food ye may hae in that basket? Maybe a shilling or two? I’m said tae get out of here soon, an’ I got nothin’ tae my name. Any bit would help a fresh start.”

  “Milly, I’ll handle this!”

  “Nathan, he kens something, and we have so
mething tae give. Let’s get Gavin and get out of here.”

  Nathan turned back to Kennedy, cursing his fate that he would be bargaining with a common criminal.

  “Och, we hae food, and I’ll give ye five shillings. That’d be enough tae get ye passage somewhere far from here if ye get out.”

  “Aye, Aye,” Kennedy nodded, reaching his hands through the bars as Nathan passed him the breads and cheeses in Milly’s basket as well as the five shillings.

  “Do you ken anything of my brother, Mr. Kennedy?” Milly held back a sob as Kennedy tore into the bread as if he hadn’t eaten in weeks. And it probably wasn’t that far off, Nathan thought. English run prisons weren’t well known for their generosity toward their Scottish guests.