Highlander's Kiss

by Amy Isan

  Where could she be? If she was taken, who could have taken her?

  His mind searched for the answer — it seemed uncharacteristic of the King to do such a thing.

  The only snake who might dare such a maneuver was Laird Maxwell.

  Chapter 4: Elyn

  Elyn was jolted awake by the cart hopping over a large stone. She opened her eyes and stared into the burlap sack, disoriented by the dark for a few moments.

  She had been dreaming of the stars hovering over the highlands. Gavin had been snuggled up against her back, his breath warm and comforting against her neck. His hand was placed on her chest, his strength unwavering and soothing. There, in the misty highlands, he had started to take her. Gentle kisses had turned fierce and heavy, both of their eyes soon lit up with a similar crackle of spirit. She had been swooning against his body when the rocky jolt had awoken her.

  She grumbled and felt her face itch with dirt. Her wrists were still bound, but it didn’t keep her too restricted from scratching her face through the sack. She could hear the two men struggling outside the cart, their grunts and groans swaying the cart back and forth as they rocked it. She imagined it was stuck, since that was the only reason they’d be submitting to hard labor.

  While they were distracted, she managed to scrape the sack off her head using the corner of the cart. Her eyes focused and felt dry, but she could see again. The dirty canopy that covered the cart kept the men out of sight.

  She crawled to the opening at the back of the cart and peered around the side. The two men were just as dirty looking as she expected: unkempt beards and swollen cheeks. Jet-black hair hung to their shoulders. She took them to be related.

  One of the men had a large stick jammed under the cart’s wheel and was heaving to get it to roll over the obstacle. Elyn stared at them, scrutinizing and trying to memorize how they looked. When one of the men paused to wipe the sweat from his brow, she ducked back inside.

  She looked around for anything she could to cut the ropes that held her wrists and ankles. Boxes and crates were scattered around the back, and under one in the corner she found a rusted saw.

  She muttered to herself as she grasped the handle and tried to slip it out from under the crate without making a racket. She wiggled the rusted blade carefully, jerking on it rhythmically to try and free it.

  Each time the men outside made a sound, she took a chance to pull on it. It was nearly free when one of the men coughed.

  “What? Yer sick or something?”

  “Nay... Ye should get back there and make sure she’s not pokin’ her nose where it donae belong.”

  Elyn froze and quickly released the handle of the saw. She frowned and scooted back into her corner of the cart. She couldn’t find the bag. Just as the man peeked inside, she discovered she had been sitting on it and scooped it up in her hands.

  “What are ye doing?” the man stared at her. He lifted himself into the cart and approached her, ducking down to keep his head from striking the top of the canopy. He wasn’t wearing very high quality armour, and Elyn thought him to be a mercenary.

  Elyn’s cheeks burned and she squeezed the sack in her hands. She stared hard back at the man and clenched her jaw. “Stuck?”

  The black-haired man scowled and brought his hand back to slap her. “It donae matter if we’re stuck! What were ye doin’ back here?”

  “I wanted to get that filthy sack off me head,” Elyn said. “Did ye use that as a pillow before you put it on me? It’s disgusting.”

  The man slapped Elyn across the cheek. She stumbled over and bit her lip. She looked back at the man with a hard glare.

  “Now you’ve hurt the Laird’s bride-to-be. I’m sure he’ll be glad to hear that.”

  The man fumed and held his gaze to her. His partner called out to him from outside the cart.

  “Rory! Get out here, I need yer help.”

  After Rory turned to leave, Elyn chuckled. “‘Rory’ huh? That’s good to know.”

  Rory climbed out of the cart and spat on the ground. “Ye sure like to get yourself in trouble, donae?”

  “I hate it.”

  Rory smirked before disappearing from Elyn’s sight again. As soon as he and the other man started wrenching on the cart, Elyn darted to the other side and freed the saw from its prison.

  Now it was her turn. She braced the blade between her knees and dragged her bindings across its ragged blade, eventually slitting the wiry fibers and loosening them. After her hands were free, she undid the ropes holding her ankles together.

  She stood up, able to keep her balance again. She admired the blade and considered if it would be good enough to get the men to take her back to Eilean Donan. She wasn’t sure if she could take both of them, especially with a rusty saw.

  The cart shifted again under the force of the lever, and it finally rolled free of the rock. The men cheered and whooped over their victory.

  Elyn braced herself for them to return to the cart. She gripped the saw with both hands and held it out as if it were a sword. It would at least do some damage, maybe give her time to get away.

  The horses pulling the cart whinnied because of the ruckus the men were making. Elyn had an idea.

  She climbed through the front to the drivers seat and glanced over at the men for a brief second. They stared at her as she scooped up the reins and whipped them, ushering the horses to take off. Without a moment of hesitation, the cart darted off from its standstill and took Elyn down the path.

  She didn’t want to turn around, not yet, not with the men still in sight. She would have to keep following the path until she could get her bearings and turn the cart around. Elyn figured that was her best chance.

  She swallowed hard as the horses picked up their speed. She didn’t recognize anything around her. It didn’t look like the highlands that she was used to.

  The ground was too flat, and somewhat marshy. She stared up at the sky and tried to make out the constellations, but it was useless. The clouds were moving too fast and the rumble of the cart kept her eyes from staying focused.

  She thought for a moment. Was she in the lowlands? It was the only thing she could think of — she couldn’t have traveled to England in such a short amount of time. It had only been a day... hadn't it?

  The trail curved to the right and she followed it. In front of her, there was a small dip into a valley, with a large castle situated in the middle of the land. A black and foreboding castle, it wasn’t anything like she had seen before. It must have been where they were taking her, but what clan ruled this land?

  Were they mercenaries? Or were they clansmen? She thought there might be only one way to find out.

  ***

  Elyn guided the horses, only glancing over her shoulder to see if the men were following her. It was difficult to tell in the darkness, especially when the swift moving clouds covered the small amount of moonlight.

  The castle seemed to grow larger and more ominous every minute. As the cart came closer, she started to make out villagers and some guards patrolling the perimeter. It was strange: where was the village? The land didn’t look tilled or prepared for farming at all — what did they do down in the lowlands?

  Elyn gritted her teeth as two of the guards turned and raced toward her. She felt frozen with fear, but couldn’t make herself direct the horses, and they carried on oblivious to her ratcheting fear. She comforted herself with the thought that she had been kidnapped by bandits, surely, so the guards would help her if she pleaded her story.

  The two men slowed as they came near her cart, and she finally pulled on the reins to slow the beasts of burden down. The men were dressed differently, still wearing kilts, but their jerkin and armour looked different. More fully clothed. They both had blond hair that touched their shoulders, but one had a beard.

  The bearded guard spoke first. “What brings ye to Kinfauns Castle?”

  Elyn gulped and steadied herself. She swore she could hear the men closing the gap behind the cart. �
��Please, ye hafta help me — these men kidnapped me and I just got free.”

  The bearded guard ran his fingers through his scruff and thought for a moment. “These men... describe them.”

  “I think they’re brothers, they both have black hair and dirty complexions...” As the words left Elyn’s lips, the clean-shaven guard smirked to himself, but regained his composure.

  The bearded one asked her another question, looking more serious this time. “Did you catch their names?”

  “Only one... Rory.” Elyn gripped the reins tighter. A cough in the distance alerted her. “Please, they’re right behind me! Ye hafta help me!” She hated begging like this, especially to a guard, but she felt pinned. If the guards wouldn’t help her, she’d be forced to try and find her own way back to Eilean Donan, and she had no idea where she was.

  The bearded guard muttered to himself and shifted his weight. He turned and spoke to his clansmen. “Do you think it was the Colville brothers?”

  Elyn stared at the men. Her eyes grew wide and her heart sank into her stomach like a stone. “Do... ye know them?”

  The guards laughed. “Know them? We’re practically family.”

  Elyn fumbled with the reins and tried to move the horses forward, but the guards had blocked the path and they refused to budge. She threw the ropes away and climbed to her feet, ready to dart in any direction. But where?

  The guards dismounted from their steeds. The bearded one approached her cautiously, but with a smug look on his face. “You must be Elyn MacDonald then. We’ve been expectin’ ye.”

  The second guard hollered past the cart, whistling and waving his arms. Elyn followed his gaze and saw the Colville brothers just catching up to her, looking winded and sweaty.

  The bearded guard waved his hand. “Come on down, the Lady will be expectin’ ye.”

  Elyn shook her head furiously and leapt off the driver’s bench. She stumbled and fell to her knees, but managed to stand before the guard could grab her. She shoved off of him and ran away from the path, heading into the wild lowlands.

  She glanced both directions, toward the castle looming in the distance, and the empty path behind her. The guards remounted their horses and galloped towards her at full speed.

  What could she do?

  Elyn stared up at the sky and begged the Lord to save her. She never found herself to be a praying woman, but she had little else to turn to. She collapsed to her knees, digging them into the hard, cold earth. She clasped her hands together and shut her eyes, now only able to hear the guards slow to a stop and climb off their horses again. They approached her, their armour clinking quietly against itself, and one of them unsheathed his sword.

  Elyn entwined her fingers tighter and squeezed her elbows against her sides. A guard held a blade up to the back of her neck, the cold steel frosting her skin almost immediately. The other grabbed her wrists and wrenched her hands apart, before pulling her to her feet.

  She stood limply, the guard mostly keeping her upright by force of will. The blade at the back of her neck was a cold reminder to not run again.

  “Are ye done? Do ye think we like hangin’ out here in the cold and dark, waiting for some bitch to show up? Now come here!” The guard pulled her forward by her wrists and she stumbled toward him. The blade left the back of her neck and she heard it go back into its scabbard.

  The guard climbed his horse and then told her to get on. She sat behind him, hands to her sides. He sighed heavily and reached for her hands, grabbing them and forcing her to hold onto his hips. It was distasteful, but the guard seemed to like how disgusted she was by it.

  She resigned herself to her fate, and she felt a sickness flood her insides. She didn’t think of it as anxiety, but a return to the norm. It was always like this — and it would always be like it.

  Kinfauns... why did that sound familiar? The guards directed the horses back to the path and toward the castle, the bouncing of the ride was uncomfortable. She instinctively gripped the man’s waist tighter when the horse nearly threw her off and she regretted it.

  Kinfauns... Kinfauns...

  She tried to remember. The association was weak, she had only just read about the word in one of the books. As they approached the gate leading into the castle courtyard, it hit her.

  ‘Kinfauns Castle has been home to the Maxwell clan for over two hundred years.’

  Elyn’s throat suddenly felt parched. She swallowed hard.

  ***

  The guards dragged her through the gateway and into the castle. The building was larger than either the MacDonald or MacKenzie strongholds, but at the expense of having a smaller courtyard. It made the castle villages of the highland castles look enormous and spacious in comparison. Elyn couldn’t bring herself to fight the men any longer, as they carried her limp body further into the keep.

  She was hungry and the long ride had only made her thirsty and disoriented. The looks of passing villagers and other clansmen was that of ill contempt. She flashed her eyes to try and look menacing, but her weakened state made it impossible.

  The layout of the castle's interior was similar to Eilean Donan, but wider and more fitting of a privileged family. The halls were lit with large and closely placed sconces. The carpet looked trodden, but not destroyed. Paintings hung on the walls of previous Maxwell clansmen, all sharing the same hooked nose and large, black eyes.

  The guards escorted her to the throne room, where they had said the Lady was waiting for her.

  Inside the brilliantly lit and extravagant throne room, the dark purple carpet stretched to the opposite wall and ended at the steps to the two large seats of power in the land. The larger seat was empty, but a woman with lined cheeks and long black hair pulled into a braid sat in the smaller.

  She was dressed in purple robes and covered in gold jewelry. The guards shoved Elyn forward, causing her to stumble in surprise and fall to her knees in front of the throne. The woman smirked and let out a small laugh at Elyn’s expense.

  “Elyn MacDonald,” she said. Her voice sounded flat, as if she couldn’t have been bothered to even speak to someone of Elyn’s class.

  Elyn looked up from the ground, her eyes peering between strands of fallen hair. She clawed the carpet with her fingers, and tried to stand. A guard knocked the back of her knees with his foot, forcing her back down. She felt a surge of anger rise through her and flush her cheeks. Her hands trembled. Was she so weak she had to give up at the first sign of trouble? Was that the woman she was? That Gavin had fallen in love with?

  “I’m glad you could finally make it here —,”

  “Save it,” Elyn said. “I have nothin’ to say to ye.”

  The Lady held her hand to her chest in surprise. “Did you just interrupt me?”

  “Aye. I know who ye are, Susanna Maxwell.”

  The Lady shook her head and frowned. “If you want to be treated like a commoner, that’s yer business. Soon enough the King will have your clan and control of Eilean Donan’s men.”

  Elyn couldn’t stop herself. “Why would the King care about my family?”

  “Fool.” The Lady thought for a moment. “I guess you might not know. Didnae you know that King Maxwell intends to make this entire land his?”

  “Maxwell! He’s behind this treachery?”

  The Lady laughed heartily. “What did you think?”

  “Gavin won’t let this happen. What makes ye think the MacKenzies would ever bow to Maxwell hatred?”

  “That’s easy, dear. Because we have you.”

  Elyn drew her breath. She shuddered, but then shook her head. “What are ye gonna do to me?”

  “Whatever it takes.” Susanna peered past Elyn’s shoulder and snapped her fingers. “Guards, take her to the dungeon.”

  The guards leaned down and grabbed Elyn by the shoulders. They hoisted her up and dragged her out of the throne room. She faced the Lady all the while, watching her face glow with delight from the effect of her words. Elyn tried to reason with herself, to t
ry and calm her nerves.

  Did they have Gavin already? He had gone to Castle Iverlochy to confront the King... and if Robert had taken the thrown, then he was already in trouble.

  She had to let him know, but how? Was it too late?

  The guards hauled her down to the basement, her feet thudding against the stonework with each descending step. She didn’t try to look menacing anymore. What was the point? She had used all her anger up on Susanna.

  Kinfauns’ dungeon wasn’t anything like Iverlochy’s. Destitute was the easiest way to describe it. The stone walls were marred with black crud, as if they had been rubbed with mud or worse. The walls looked crumbly, but the bars looked powerful and new. The door to her cell opened with a gentle screech, and the guards pushed her in. She collapsed to the floor and they slammed the door shut, locking it with the metallic cling of the key. Elyn didn’t move.

  The bearded guard left the room. Before the last guard left, he approached the bars and leaned in close to whisper. “I’ll have fun with ye yet, donae ye worry.” Then he left the dungeon, shutting and locking the outer door as he went.

  No guard was posted near her cell for her to try and rob. No firelight illuminated her prison. She was alone, hungry and cold.

  She turned to her side and held her knees against her chest. Hopefully it was all a dream after all. She would wake up in Eilean Donan with Gavin next to her, his strong arms wrapped around her waist.

  As exhaustion set in, she choked back tears realizing how futile it was to wish for something so silly. Wasn’t this the kind of life she deserved? Constantly assaulted from all sides?

  Maybe she really didn’t belong anywhere but the small farmland near Dornie. Everything would have been fine if she just stayed in that cottage with her family, naive to the deeper threats that coursed through Scotland. She certainly never would have been targeted for kidnapping, or gotten involved in Maxwell affairs.