by Willa Blair
****
Some time later, they roused from their makeshift bed and made ready to return to the village.
Something in the trees about fifty yards away caught Ian’s attention, and he squinted to try and make it out. “Stay here with the horses,” he whispered, swinging his legs over the saddle and dropping to the ground. She nodded and clutched both horses’ reins. He took off at a run towards the woods.
He reached the stand of trees and looked around. He thought he’d seen a flash of color behind a tree, and this time there was no mist. He crept between the trees, his breathing slow and even, listening for any out-of-place sounds as he scanned the ground. He was no tracker, but it looked as though someone had been there recently. There were several clear footprints marking the soft dirt. All was quiet, though, so whoever had been there must have seen him coming and fled. Maybe Ewan had sent some men to keep an eye on them? He took one last look around before heading back to Abby.
“What’s going on?” she asked as he took the reins from her and climbed onto Jack’s back.
“I thought I saw someone in the trees, but there was no one there. It looked as though someone had been there, though. I wonder if Ewan sent some men to follow us.”
Abby shrugged. “Anything is possible, I guess. Let’s head back. It’s probably closer to dinnertime, and being out here alone is starting to freak me out.”
“Aye,” he agreed. They urged the horses to a canter and returned to the village.
CHAPTER 21
After dinner that evening, Ian returned to his temporary dwelling in the village. Abby and Alannah sat at the table, drinking tea and chatting while Conall was out hunting.
Abby took a sip of tea, wincing as it burned her tongue. “I wonder when Ewan’s messenger will return. Do you think something has happened to him?” The waiting was killing her. She wanted this over with already, wanted to be free to truly be with Ian.
“It’s possible, of course. Messengers are supposed to be treated well, but that doesn’t always happen. There’s so much anger between us and the Mackenzies. But it’s also a long ride there and back.” She shrugged. “All we can do is wait and see.”
“And if there is no word, what then?”
“Ewan will most likely wait one more day. If he has not heard anything, he will send men. But that will be seen as a challenge, and they will be greeted with far more hostility than the Mackenzies would greet a single messenger.”
“I really hope it doesn’t come to that.”
Abby took another sip of tea. It was amazing how much was taken for granted in the twenty-first century. Miles were traveled in minutes or hours. Messages were sent and received in a blink of an eye. The very idea of waiting four or more days for a message to be hand-delivered and a reply returned was inconceivable to her.
Even more unthinkable was the idea that in a matter of hours, Ewan could be sending a troop of men to find out what became of his messenger, and that the Mackenzies would no doubt greet that troop with violence.
Abby was quickly realizing just how sheltered her life had been.
****
Ian returned to his borrowed cottage, having just bedded Jack down for the night. As he began to prepare for bed, there was a knock on the door.
Ian was surprised to see Ewan in the doorway. “Ewan? Is everything all right?”
“Aye. Can I come in for a moment?”
“Of course.” Ian pushed the door open wider and Ewan stepped inside. Ian gestured to Ewan to sit in one of the rickety chairs while he leaned against the door. “So what’s goin’ on?” Ewan’s brow furrowed at Ian’s words, but he evidently got the gist.
“I didn’t want to say anything in front of the lasses, but I expected my man back by now. It should not have taken him this long to get to the Mackenzie village and return here, even if they fed him, which I doubt they’d have done.”
“So what will you do?”
“If he hasn’t returned by daybreak, I’ll send men out to search for him. Can I count on you to lend us aid if need be? I do not want to leave the village too lightly guarded.”
“Aye, whatever you need. I want to end this feud as much as you do.”
Ewan stood. “My thanks to you. Oidhche mhath.”
Ian replied in kind, wishing Ewan good night in Gaelic. After he left, Ian extinguished the lamp and stripped, settling down onto his pallet.
It worried him to see the concern in Ewan’s eyes. It was yet another reminder that this was not a movie, with blunted weapons, stunt doubles, and carefully choreographed stunts. Ewan’s messenger could be undergoing torture at the hands of the Mackenzies. Or, he could simply have fallen off his horse and was lying on the ground somewhere along the way, unable to call for help or move.
It was a sobering thought, and he curled on his side on the uncomfortable pallet, wondering if Abby would join him that night.
****
Abby and Alannah were up late, sorting through a new batch of herbs and plants Alannah had collected. There was a noise outside, and Alannah rose, walking towards the door. “I hear Conall outside. I’ll go let him in.” She opened the door.
Conall wasn’t there.
Alannah stepped outside and looked around for a moment, seeing nothing in the darkness. She shrugged, assuming the noise was an animal, and turned to go back inside.
A large hand clapped around her mouth as another snaked around her waist, trapping her arms against her body. She was lifted fully off the ground and carried around the side of the cottage. She kicked wildly, landing a few blows against her assailant’s shins. He merely grunted, his grip on her never relaxing.
Suddenly there was a vicious growling sound. Conall. Alannah closed her eyes in relief, feeling his furry body slam into the man holding her. He cried out, but maintained his hold on her. There was a thud and then to her horror, she heard a terrible sound coming from her beloved wolf. She kicked harder, thrashing desperately in her captor’s cruel embrace. There was a blinding pain in the back of her head, and she knew no more.
****
Abby wondered what was taking Alannah so long to come back inside. She got to her feet, wincing at the soreness in her knee, which had been aggravated by several days of riding. And some very intense encounters with Ian, she thought with a smile, a delicious shiver running through her in anticipation of seeing him again that night. She heard Conall growl, and the smile left her face.
Something was wrong.
There was a sudden yelp from the wolf, as if he’d been struck by something. The door slammed against the wall as a giant of a man burst inside. Abby screamed and scurried backwards, shoving her chair aside. With one swipe of his massive arms, the man sent the table crashing to the floor on its side, barely breaking a stride as he advanced towards her.
Abby looked around, but there was nowhere to go in the small cottage. She ducked to one side to try and go around him, but he snagged her arm, wrenching it painfully as he yanked her to him. She cried out in pain and fear as she was hauled against his big body, his sweaty hand clamping over her nose and mouth. Her vision blurring as her air was cut off, she tried to remember the defensive moves Adam had insisted she learn, but she barely managed to land one good kick before everything went black.
****
Ian was sound asleep, enjoying a particularly satisfying dream starring himself and Abby, when something jolted him awake. He looked around, wondering briefly why Abby hadn’t come to him, and then he heard it again—a scratching at the door. If Abby was out there, she would have just come right inside.
In one smooth motion, Ian rolled to his feet and grabbed a length of linen that he’d used as a towel, wrapping it around his hips and tucking in the end. He knew he was wasting time, but he wasn’t eager to face whatever was outside stark naked. He lit a torch from the fire that burned low in the hearth and grabbed his dirk. He yanked the door open, brandishing the torch in one hand, the dagger in the other.
There was no one there. He ste
pped outside, and his bare foot brushed up against something that was lying on the ground. It was warm and furry—and wet.
“What the hell?” Ian lowered the torch. It was Conall, peering up at him with his eerie yellow eyes. There was a patch of blood matting down the fur on his side.
“Conall? What happened to you?” he asked in a soft, soothing voice. The wolf chuffed and blinked at him. “Shit. Okay, Conall. I need to get you inside so I can get a look at you.”
Trying to tamp down his rising panic, Ian ran inside and stuck the torch in a holder by the fire. He went back outside and crouched down at Conall’s side.
“Easy, now, Conall. I’ll be as gentle as I can.” He gently lifted the animal off the ground and cradled him against his chest, carefully straightening to a standing position. He staggered into the cabin, holding his breath so he could concentrate solely on getting the injured wolf safely inside.
He lowered the animal to the floor in front of the hearth and then took a step back and slumped over, breathing hard, his hands braced on his knees. Conall had to weigh one hundred pounds, and though Ian considered himself to be in pretty good physical condition, one hundred pounds of dead weight was damned heavy.
He built up the fire and lit all the candles in the room before turning his attention to the injured wolf.
“Bloody hell! You’ve got a dagger in your side!” Ian’s stomach twisted. Who would have possibly been able to get close enough to the wolf to stab him? And why would Conall have come to him for help? Oh God. Abby!
He tried to push his fear aside and concentrate on quickly patching up the bloody wound. He retrieved strips of clean linen from his saddlebags that he’d brought to use as bandages if needed. He laid his left hand on the wolf’s heaving side for leverage. He grasped the handle of the dirk in his right hand and slowly pulled, extracting the weapon inch by painstaking inch. To his surprise, the animal didn’t even flinch, but stared at him with clear eyes.
He quickly pressed a piece of linen to the wound, applying pressure to staunch the blood flow. Conall started to fidget impatiently. “Take it easy, fur-face. It’s still bleedin’.” The wolf growled softly, and Ian could almost swear that he heard the wolf’s voice in his mind telling him to just wrap it—there was no time to screw around. “Okay, Conall. One more minute, and I’ll be done.”
The piece of linen in his hands was soaked through with blood. Without thinking twice, Ian whipped off his makeshift towel and folded it into a pad. The wolf cooperated, lying still while he pressed it firmly to the wound. He held it in place gently with his knee, and wrapped a long strip of cloth around the lean, furry body, tying it tightly enough to hopefully stop the bleeding.
As soon as Ian finished tying the knot and sat back on his heels, Conall got to his feet and licked his hand as if expressing his gratitude. He trotted to the door, wincing a bit, and scratched at the wood with a front paw. He looked back at Ian and whined, scratching the door again.
“I know, Conall. I’m coming.” Ian quickly pleated his plaid. Within minutes, he was ready, his dirk tucked into his belt, torch in hand. Ewan still had his sword. He opened the door and Conall ran outside, heading for the barn.
Jack whickered a soft greeting as Ian ran inside, sticking the torch into a holder on the wall. He took only enough time to throw the bridle over the big stallion’s head and lead him out of the stall. Recalling the rigorous training he and Jack had gone through for a particular movie role, he grabbed two big handfuls of the long black mane, every muscle in his body tense and ready.
“Go, Jack!” he yelled, and as the horse shot forward, Ian flung his body upward, using the momentum to swing himself onto the horse’s back. He guided the stallion back into the barn to retrieve the torch, and then wheeled him around, charging down the path to Ewan’s cottage. Without dismounting, he rode right up to the door and leaned over to pound on it.
Ewan opened the door a moment later, his hair wildly tousled and an intense look in his eyes. He had a torch in one hand, his sword in another, and he was stark naked.
“Mackenzie, what the hell is goin’ on?”
Conall growled, and Ewan’s gaze dropped, his eyes widening when he saw the bloody bandage. He quickly grasped the situation. “What of the lasses?”
“I don’t know, Ewan. Meet me there.” Without waiting for a reply, Ian dug his heels into Jack’s sides, and they took off at a gallop down the road. Conall loped alongside, his injury evidently not enough to keep him from his mistress.
Ian pulled Jack to a halt outside Alannah’s cottage and jumped down, trusting Jack not to go anywhere. The cottage door was open, and Ian felt a pang of fear in his chest. He drew his dirk and brandished his torch as he cautiously stepped inside.
“Bloody Hell!”
The table lay on its side beside two overturned cups. One chair was knocked over, and a shelf had fallen; the dusty books that it held were in a pile on the floor. A fire still burned merrily in the fireplace, and two lit candles sat in the windowsills. Miraculously, those hadn’t fallen over.
Where the hell were Abby and Alannah?
Conall howled, and Ian ran outside to see the wolf sniffing at a prone body. His heart in his throat, he lowered the torch and saw long red hair. It was Alannah. Ian dropped to his knees, sticking the torch in the ground so he could use both hands. He gently brushed her hair aside, breathing a sigh of relief when he felt her pulse. But where was Abby?
“Alannah!” Hoofs skidded to a stop, and Ewan appeared at his side. “Alannah,” he whispered, laying a gentle hand on her shoulder. She moaned softly, but didn’t open her eyes.
“It looks as though she was knocked senseless. There’s no blood.” Ian took a deep, panicked breath. “Ewan, Abby’s not here.”
Without acknowledging Ian’s words, Ewan barked to the man who had accompanied him, ordering him to muster the rest of his men. He scooped Alannah’s limp body into his arms, cradling her as though she were made of the finest glass. He strode inside and laid her on the bed, holding her hand tightly in his.
There was a basin of water that had stayed upright in the earlier fray, and Ian wet a piece of linen, laying it gently across Alannah’s forehead. She flinched from the cold water, but her eyes did not open.
Ewan swore viciously in Gaelic. “I should have had someone guarding her! I thought that the damn wolf would scare off anyone who would harm her. I should have known it wasn’t enough! Damn it!”
Somewhere in the back of his mind, Ian was shocked to see so much emotion from Ewan, but he didn’t have time to think about it now.
“I’m going after her, Ewan.”
“What?” Ewan didn’t take his eyes off Alannah.
Ian grabbed his shoulder and looked him in the eye. “Abby’s gone, Ewan! I’m goin’ after her!”
“Aye, of course,” replied Ewan absently, returning his gaze to Alannah. “As soon as the men arrive, we’ll head out.”
Ian suddenly remembered something from earlier. “Ewan, listen to me. Did you have any men following us today when we were out riding?”
Ewan glanced up and shook his shaggy head. “Nay, I did not. Why?”
“When we were on our way back here this afternoon, I thought I saw someone in the woods. I went to look and found fresh footprints. I assumed you’d sent some men to keep an eye on us.”
“I did not send any men after you. Bloody Mackenzies! Sorry,” he mumbled.
Ian snorted. “Ewan, they took Abby and hurt Alannah. I’m not inclined to defend them at this particular moment.” He paused, thinking fast. “They must have taken your messenger hostage and then came back here. They followed me, and saw me with Abby.”
“Aye.” Ewan continued holding Alannah’s limp hand, but finally looked up at Ian, a thoughtful look on his face. “They know we’ll come after her. They must have disbelieved what I said about wantin’ a truce, and are tryin’ to draw us into a fight.”
Ian clenched and unclenched his fists. If they wanted a fight, he was m
ore than willing to accommodate them. “Bring them on,” he growled. “I’ll be needin’ my sword, Ewan.”
Ewan didn’t even blink. “Aye, Ian, you’ll have it.” He looked at Conall, who for once wasn’t snarling at him. “Do you think the beast can lead us to her?”
Ian nodded. “Aye, I think he can. By now they must have a good head start on us. We’ll need to move quickly.” He grinned briefly. “Although we do have one thing on our side, Ewan. Time. If not for Conall, we wouldn’t know anything was amiss till morning. They may not be moving as fast as we think.”
Ewan’s men arrived, bearing torches and weapons, including Ian’s sword. Ewan handed it to him, and Ian walked away from the others, making sure no one was within range. He drew the blade from its leather scabbard and held it straight out in front of him, parallel to the ground. Then he raised it over his head, reacquainting himself with the weight of it, the feel of it in his hands. He twirled it, spinning to face imaginary enemies, listening to the steel sing as it whipped through the air. He hadn’t held the sword in many days, and wanted to be as ready as possible when it was time to use it.
“Shite,” muttered Ewan, when Ian returned to his side. “I didn’t think to fetch one of the women to stay with Alannah. I’ll not have her waking by herself, not knowin’ what’s afoot.”
“What is the meaning of this?”
Ian and Ewan whirled around to see Andrew standing there, his eyes blazing with fury.
“It isn’t enough that this man—our enemy—has compromised my granddaughter and walks freely about this village, but now he bears a sword as well? Shame on you, Ewan Fraser!”
“No, shame on you!” retorted Ian. “Alannah and Abby were attacked tonight. Alannah lies inside senseless and Abby’s been taken!”
Andrew’s face paled. “Attacked? By Mackenzies, no doubt! Mackenzies you brought here!”
Ian stalked toward Andrew. “Either do something helpful, or get the hell out of the way before I strike you down myself!” At any other time, Ian would have felt satisfied by the fearful look on Andrew’s face, but right now he just felt cold and scared.
