April Holthaus - The MacKinnon Clan 02

by Escape To The Highlands

  Jacqueline left her room, and demanded that one of the monks travel with her to Carrick.

  Stopping her in the hallway, Father Modine said, “I apologize, my lady. There was nothing I could do. Yer letter was intercepted.”

  Knowing that Father Modine knew nothing of the letter she sent several weeks ago, she worried about what the repercussion would cost her. “I don’t understand. What are you saying?”

  “There are men at our gates. They are searching fer ye.”

  Jacqueline ran to the window and looked outside. Walking towards the door, she recognized the two men, Malcolmus and Nial. Nervously, she watched as they entered the room. Nial set a small brown leather bag down upon the table. As the sound of coins clang together, Jacqueline knew that the priest had profited from her entrapment. Father Modine picked up the bag of coins and stuffed it into his robes and without word, left out the back entrance of the chapel.

  “We meet again, my lady,” Malcolmus said as he grabbed onto Jacqueline.

  Jacqueline kicked and screamed, but no one had come to help her.

  “No, no,” she cried.

  The monks backed away, giving her a look full of sorrow and shame. Binding her hands together, Malcolmus threw her up onto his horse and climbed up behind her. Jacqueline felt the searing pain from the rope as it bit into her skin. Her riding companion held her waist tight against his to prevent her from escaping. Not saying a word, they rode off in silence.

  Jacqueline feared that where they were taking her would be the last place she would ever see. Treason against the king was punishment by death, and Lord Wessex, her betrothed, would gladly kick the stool out from under her feet on the gallows. Not only did she deceive her king, but him as well. His own wrath and embarrassment would mean that he would want her death to be quick.

  Deep down, Jacqueline hoped it would be him and not her brother. She wanted to spare Wayland the burden of killing his own blood.

  As Jacqueline thought on this, she no longer fought her captives. Instead, she hung her head high, not afraid to die, nor ashamed for what she had done. She would face Lord Wessex without a guilty conscience. Her life alone was not worth the lives of the several men she had saved that night and given the chance, she would do it again.

  After several hours of riding, Malcolmus and Nial rode to a small farm house. Chickens pecked the ground while the goats grazed on the barrel of hay within their pen. Jacqueline’s curiosity grew as she had wondered why they would have brought her here. The small wooden shack looked recently occupied with clothes hanging on the line and smoke coming out from the smoke stack. The house was nestled deep within the woods away from any village or road. Overall, thought Jacqueline the house looked pleasantly welcoming; not at all what she had expected.

  Standing in front of the door stood an elderly woman with two logs held in her arms. Her hair was tangled up and held with pins and her clothes were tattered and worn. The wrinkles on her face showed signs that she was not aging well. Her creased forehead and turned up nose made the woman appear disgusted with the three of them as they rode up the broken cobble stone path.

  “Is this the lass?” the old woman croaked.

  “Aye, mama,” Malcolmus answered.

  Mama? The blood drained from Jacqueline’s face.

  “Why have you brought me here? Please release me,” Jacqueline cried out.

  Both of the men and the old woman ignored her pleas. Jacqueline worried what their plan for her was. Malcolmus dragged Jacqueline into the house and down the stairs into the storage cellar beneath the floor boards of the kitchen and locked the trap door behind him.

  She could hear them talking in the kitchen above her.

  “The lass is too thin and scrawny. She sure is an ugly one, isn’t she?” the woman asked.

  “We were rewarded richly fer her capture,” Malcolmus responded.

  “Aye, knowledge worth more than gold,” Nial said.

  Jacqueline could hear their pounding footsteps exit the kitchen and enter the other room. Their voices now muffled.

  The room she was kept in was small and dark. The only light she had was the dim beams of light that came down from the cracks in the floor above. Jacqueline searched for a way out, but could only feel empty shelves along the walls covered in cobwebs. The heavy footsteps she heard above the stairs shook the dust from the wooden boards causing Jacqueline to cough profusely. Once she wiped the dust from her eyes, Jacqueline looked around the room. There was no hope in escaping. All she could do was wait for them to reveal their plans on what they were going to do with her.

  Hours had passed from what Jacqueline concluded as the light from above had dimmed to a flicker of light produced by a few lit candles. It had been silent upstairs for most of the day. The only sound now was the tapping of tiny footsteps shuffling across the floor. Jacqueline looked up as she heard the lock jingle. The old hag opened the hatch and set a tray of food on the first step and slammed the door closed with her foot. When Jacqueline heard the chain of the lock snap closed, she stood up to inspect the tray the woman had left. Jacqueline couldn’t help the curiosity that they would show such concern for a prisoner.

  Upon the tray was a slice of cheese, a piece of black bread and a mug of water. After not having a bite to eat in more than a day, Jacqueline avidly shoved the food in her mouth caring or not whether it was poisonous. After Jacqueline had filled her stomach with the offering, she climbed back down the stairs and laid down upon the rough dirt floor.

  The cellar room was cold and silent. She assumed that this must be similar to how the dungeons at Carlisle were. Only she was tied with rope and not chains. Jacqueline twisted her wrists trying to loosen the rope from her thin wrists. Finally after pulling and tugging, she was able to slip one of her wrists out of the loop. With her free hand, she picked at the rope to remove it from her other wrist. Tossing the rope into the corner, she rubbed her hands and wrists. She could feel a slight the sting from the rope burn she had caused, but she was free from her bindings and that enough satisfied her.

  Jacqueline awoke to the sound of commotion from above. The beams of light shined brightly down into the room which told Jacqueline that it was already morning. She felt her body involuntarily shake as she believed that the English had come. This is it, Jacqueline. You must stay strong, she repeated to herself over and over but something caught her attention causing her breath to seize. Tears involuntarily filled her eyes at the sound of the most beautiful voice, believed to be her Highland savior, Ewan. Pushing past the anger she had once felt, her heart fluttered at the thought of him being alive. It had been weeks since she had seen him; she could sense the anticipation coursing through her veins. If it was him, he was here to rescue her.

  Nervously anxious, she stood up from the ground almost feeling the same intense excitement she felt when he had kissed her. How she longed to be in his arms and feel the comfort and security he gave by just being near her. As the trap door began to swing open, Jacqueline looked up towards her savage warrior, but her smile faded and she froze at the sight of the man looking down on her. For it was not the man she had expected. It was James.

  Reaching down to help her up the stairs, he wrapped both of his arms around her. Jacqueline remained immobile. She had not expected to see him again. She was in shock and felt confused. Looking over his shoulder, she gazed at her three captives. Jacqueline stepped out of James’ embrace and took a step back, curious how James remained unharmed and had so easily convinced them to release her.

  “Are you alright, my love? I am here now and there is nothing that can stop us from being together,” he said to her. Looking at Nial, he said, “You will remember our agreement.”

  “Aye. We will be putting the knowledge ye gave us to good use,” he replied.

  With teary eyes, Jacqueline looked between the two of them. What could James have bargained for? What knowledge? Putting one hand onto her aching chest and the other to her forehead she felt faint.

  James hel
d her arm and walked her out the door and down the cobble-stone path to a stone bench out of ears’ distance. Jacqueline steadied her breathing to prevent from swooning. James kneeled down in front of her and took her by the hands.

  “How did you find me?” she asked.

  “Oh my love, I have been following your trail since you have left England. After your brother banished me, I sent a message to my cousin in France. He offered us a place to stay where we will be protected from your brother. I have received your message from the abbey and hired these men to retrieve you. It was the only way. I thought the diversion would make your brother believe that you were dead or kidnapped so that we can escape without him following us. On my travels, I have secured a vessel to take us to France but we must leave at once.”

  “But these men, how can you trust them? I have come across these men before. They are vile. They were planning on keeping me hostage until they collected their ransom.”

  “I know, but I offered them something that they valued more than coin.”

  “What was that?”

  “The name of that Scot who had helped you. I bribed an old woman at an inn for his name. When I came across these men, they tried to rob me in the woods but I heard them talking about the beautiful blond that escaped them and I knew that they were talking about you, so I made a deal with them that they could not refuse.”

  “You gave them Ewan’s name?”

  “So that was his name? I only knew that he was a MacKinnon. Surprised really as that was the clan’s name of…well you know.”

  “He wasn’t the barbarian that we have been made to believe. He helped me,” she said feeling defensive.

  “You have no reason to be mad. You are with me now and never have to worry about him again.”

  “I may not have to anyways. He may already be dead. He went off to war against our king and not many of them survived.”

  “Well I am just grateful that bloody Scot did not take advantage of you or take your womanhood.”

  “Of course he did not. He was well-mannered and kind and…” Jacqueline had never felt more confused than she did at that moment. She had wanted nothing more than to spend a lifetime with James, but over the past several weeks, the feelings she developed for Ewan were not ones so easily ignored.

  “Come, my love,” he said as he helped Jacqueline stand and escorted her towards his horse. “Just think of it, Jacqueline. You and I married, sailing across the ocean to start our new life. What we have always dreamed,” James reminded her as he held her close.

  Jacqueline smiled back at him. She had missed his boyish enthusiasm and spontaneous ideas. James jumped onto the back of his horse and helped Jacqueline climb onto the front. Holding onto the reins, they took off through the broken wooden gate.

  Chapter 12

  After only being gone for a couple months, Dunakin Castle no longer looked the same. Ewan stood on the hill looking down at his home, wondering how he should proceed. Telling his laird about the loss of his brother was no easy task, nor would it be to tell his two young lads about the loss of their father. Bram may have been Ewan’s cousin but growing up together he was just as much as his little brother as he was to Rory.

  Ewan allowed the anger to build around his heart. He blamed himself for Bram’s death. He should have been there to protect him. He should not have been distracted. He should…stop making excuses. Ewan knew that Bram knew what he was getting into when he decided to go off to war. And he would not want Ewan to grieve his death. Instead, his life should be celebrated.

  Ewan kicked his horse forward and began to trot down the hill towards the village below. He was greeted by many of the farmers working out in the fields. He made small talk but proceeded towards the line of crofts to the one on the end. He dismounted his horse and opened the door to the small dwelling.

  “Ewan,” his mother cried out as she ran towards him and threw her arms around him.

  Ewan stepped out of his mother’s embrace.

  “It is good to see ye, son. I have been so worried about ye. Come now, ye must be starving. I just finished making yer favorite, venison stew. It’s good and fresh,” his mother said as she grabbed onto his arm and dragged him towards the table.

  “I thank ye, mother but I must see Rory at once.”

  “Oh, nonsense. Ye just got home and ye probably have no’ eaten a decent meal the whole time ye were gone. Ye will eat first,” she replied.

  Even as a man, she still treated him as a bairn. Ewan did not mind her smothering. After losing his father and sister, he knew that he was all she had left. Not wanting to argue, Ewan agreed to sit down. His mother, Fallon was the only one that Ewan knew better than to argue with. With the Irish blood in her ancestry, she had such a mean streak that she could take on even the most feared warrior. Coincidently, she reminded him a lot of Jacqueline. She too was just as stubborn and firm with her word.

  Quietly they ate, even though his mother had asked him several questions. Ewan did not want to reveal what had happened to Bram until he spoke to Rory. He thought it was only right that he was told first. He also left out the part of meeting Jacqueline. Had his mother known that he had feelings for the lass, she would make Ewan search all over Scotland for her to marry the lass and bring her home.

  Just as Ewan scooped up the last bit of stew into his mouth, a knock pounded at the door. Ewan stood up from the table to answer it. Swinging the door open there stood Rory. With one hand on the doorframe and the other on his chest panting, he remained speechless until he could catch his breath. His hair was tussled and sweat dripped down from his forehead.

  “Ewan, yer home?” Rory struggled to say.

  “Aye, My Laird. I just arrived. Are ye alright?”

  “Aye. I need yer mother to come wit me. Annella said that it is time fer the bairn to come and she is asking fer her.”

  Fallon grabbed her cloak and followed Rory and Ewan out the door. The three of them ran back towards the castle. Lady Kenna, Rory’s mother greeted them outside.

  “Fallon, I will need ye to grab onto a basin of water and several cloths. Rory, until I can attend to Annella and make her comfortable, I will need ye to stay outside of the room.”

  “Will she be alright?” Rory asked.

  “Aye, of course she will,” she replied.

  With Annella’s baby on the way, Ewan knew that it was not time to give account of what had happened to Bram. This was to be a joyous moment and not one to cause grief. Besides, Ewan figured that Rory had enough on his mind, for the moment. Rory and Ewan stood outside the door listening to the painful screams Annella was bellowing. Ewan watched as Rory nervously paced back and forth.

  “She is no’ dying, My Laird. I am sure that ma and Aunt Kenna ken what they are doing and how to attend to Annella and the babe. Ye need to relax,” Ewan suggested hoping to give Rory some ease and comfort.

  “Aye, ye are right. My ma said this may last for hours, maybe even days. I can use a drink,” Rory replied.

  “I will go down to the kitchen and have Lil bring in some ale from the stocks.”

  Rory nodded his head and sat down on the top step. Ewan knew that Rory would be determined not to leave the hall just in case Annella needed him. Ewan admired the love that Rory had for Annella. Since the day he met her, he was swept away. For years Ewan swore that he would never be caught up with the nonsense of love or marriage. All he thought he ever needed was a warm lass between the sheets when he felt the need to release himself. And for Ewan, finding those who were willing came easy. But now his heart ached for something else, a home and a family of his own. But Ewan knew that path wasn’t meant for him.

  Heading into the kitchen, Ewan stopped Lil and asked her to fill up two mugs to the rim with ale. She left the room and came back with one mug in each hand. Holding them out, Ewan snatched them up and began his way back up the stairs. The foam from the top of the mugs dripped onto the floor as he walked up the steps. Once he reached the top, the hallway was bare and Rory was n
owhere to be found. Slamming back his pint of ale, he looked up and down the hall, then looked at Annella’s door when he heard the cheerful sound of a babe crying.

  Rory swung open the door holding up the naked babe in his hands and joyfully hollered out, “I have me a son.”

  Ewan smiled back at the elated father as Rory ran down the stairs to share his blessed news. Ewan could hear him yelling out, “The babe is a boy” as the crowd of people in the bailey cheered for the birth of their laird’s son. Once the babe was introduced, Rory took his son back to his mother to nurse. Soon after, Rory returned to Ewan’s side.

  “What a blessed day,” Rory exclaimed.

  “Aye, My Laird. What are ye going to name yer wee bairn?”

  “I was thinking of naming him after me father, Duncan.”

  “That is a good name, My Laird,” Ewan said with distraction.

  Rory raised his brows and gave Ewan a quizzical look. “Ewan, I have ken ye all my life. I can tell when something is on yer mind.”

  “I dinna ken if now is a good time, my laird.”

  “Ye ken ye usually call me Rory when we are alone. Now I ken somethin’ is troubling ye.”

  Ewan hated the idea of being the bearer of bad news, but he knew that is was his responsibility to do so. “I am sure that ye heard by now about the battle at Falkirk.”

  “Aye. I did. Heard it was a terrible loss fer us and fer William Wallace.”

  “Aye, it was. We lost many men on the battle field. Good men.”

  “Ewan?”

  “I’m sorry My Laird. Yer brother was wit me on the battlefield. Fought wit his verra last breath. I tried to save him but I was too late. I blame myself and I would understand if ye were to blame me as well. I should have been there, protecting him.”

  Rory looked down at his folded hands. Ewan could tell by his demeanor that he was mourning the loss of his brother and looked away. Suddenly, he felt Rory put his hand on his shoulder and lightly shook it.