The attacks were unusual though, not MacLeish’s usual style. They weren’t Norman methods either. The English tended to come in force, provoking battle and attempting to overwhelm the highlanders with superior numbers.
It was only Andrew’s intimate knowledge of the terrain that had kept them at bay so far. The southerners dared not fight among the mountains with so many hiding places for the clan to mount sneak attacks on their rearguard, picking them off one by one, weakening them enough to send them running for home with whispers of highland ghosts chasing after them.
The track descended into the valley for a couple of miles before climbing again, passing between two mountains and then coming to a cairn of stones beside the road. The end of MacIntyre land and the start of MacLeish territory.
It was only a single step forward and yet with it the risk increased tenfold. From here on in, the MacLeishes might attack at any time. Would they honor the peace accord or see the strategic advantage of taking Andrew when he only had three men with him?
He knew he was relying on a truce that had lasted well over a decade but had they not already broken it? He sat up straight and tall on his horse. If they were to come, let them come. He would fight with honor if it came to it. Could the same be said of them? God would judge them all in the end.
People looked at them as they rode past, glancing up from the fields, muttering to each other at the sight of MacIntyre tartan on their land. Andrew ignored them, staring straight ahead. He had a job to do and nothing would distract him.
Another hour and then they were there. An escort had appeared from nowhere, six gruff unspeaking MacLeish men at arms, riding three to the left and three to the right, keeping pace with them for the last few miles until they reached MacLeish castle.
The old keep was still standing inside the walls but next to it the broken walls of the new building were higher than when he last saw them, at least twenty feet and still rising. The sound of masons chiseling echoed out to them as they stopped by the drawbridge.
On the far side, the guard looked pale. He was no more than fifteen. Duff MacLeish was clearly not expecting anyone. Was that significant?
“Halt,” the guard said in a squeaky voice.
“We already have,” Finley shouted back. “Are you going to stand there dithering or are you going to inform your lord the laird of the MacIntyre clan is here to see him?”
“Let them in, Malcolm,” one of the escort shouted. “Show some manners.”
“Come in, my laird,” Malcolm shouted, beckoning them over.
Andrew rode in through the gate, stopping in the courtyard and looking once more at the new keep.
“He looks like he’s planning for quite the siege,” Wallace said in a low voice. “Perhaps he is preparing for clan war after all.”
“I doubt it,” Gillis replied. “It’ll be ten years before it’s finished and until then all he has is children guarding his gates and that crumbling ruin to keep him safe.”
“Andrew MacIntyre,” a voice shouted from the doorway of the old keep. “Come inside.”
Duff was waving them over. Andrew nodded to his men before dismounting. Stableboys ran over at once, guiding the steeds away. There was more pointing and whispering from MacLeish people as Andrew headed over to the keep. He glanced around, wondering if he might see any faces he recognized from his swim with Beth. No luck.
“What do you think of the new keep?” Duff asked when Andrew reached him.
“Planning a war?” Andrew asked.
There was a gasp from the stewards behind Duff but the MacLeish laird didn’t rise to the bait. “You tell me,” he said. “Come, let us break bread together before we start the bickering.”
Once they were all seated in the hall around the long table, Duff tore a strip from the trencher in front of him, dipping it into a jug of gravy before chewing it slowly. Around him sat other MacLeishes, contempt visible on their faces as they stared at Andrew.
“What brings you here?” Duff asked when he was done with the ceremonial first bite. “You dinnae look so well.
Andrew chewed his own bread, thinking how best to word things. “I was attacked.”
“That I can see. Who by?”
“I thought you might know.”
Duff’s brow furrowed. “Careful, laddie. That’s the second time you’ve accused me of something recently. It’s almost as if you want a clan war.”
“I want peace, MacLeish. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. And yet my people are burned and I barely escape death when half a dozen mercenaries attack me. I think you hired them and I think you should tell me why you’re so desperate to get rid of me. I thought Derek was your peace offering to end our feuds.”
“And I think you should leave,” Duff said, getting to his feet, his voice cold. “If I were you I’d think hard before making any more accusations of this nature.”
Andrew wasn’t finished yet. “Are you telling me you had nothing to do with this?”
“I swear on the bones of my ancestors I dinnae have any idea what you’re blathering about. Now be off with you laddie and dinnae come back unless it’s with a peace offering of your own, not accusations with no proof beyond your own prejudice.”
Andrew stood up, picking up the last of his bread and swallowing it as was the custom. “This isnae over,” he said, turning and heading for the door.
Outside he stood in the rain a few feet from the new keep, looking up at it and the laborers still working despite the appalling conditions. “That was foolish,” Gillis said, coming to stand next to him. “Antagonizing him was not a good idea.”
“Aye, maybe you’re right,” Andrew replied. “I cannae help my anger when enemies appear around every corner. Where the blazes are the horses?”
“Coming,” a boy’s voice shouted, waving at them from the stables. “Sorry, my laird. Forgive me.”
“He’s no your laird,” Duff shouted from the keep doorway. “He’s an unwelcome guest and he’s not welcome back until he learns some manners.”
Andrew bowed theatrically to Duff before mounting his horse. “Come on,” he said to his men. “Before we get arrows in our backs.”
They rode swiftly out the gate, none of them breathing easy until they were back on their own territory. He blinked the rain from his eyes as they passed the cairn. In all that time none of his men had spoken a word. He himself was lost in thought. Was Duff telling the truth? Or was it all bluster to try and distract him?
Not for the first time he wished his father was still alive to consult. He wanted help deciding what to do next and neither of the potential options seemed ideal. Start a war or live in fear for the rest of his life.
As they rode past Pluscarden, Andrew noticed the window in the wrong place. He made a mental note to have a word with them about that. Not now though, he had too many other things to think about.
They were about five miles from the castle when he saw something in the corner of his eye. “Hold,” he said, stopping his horse in the middle of the road.
“What is it?” Gillis asked, looking where he was staring.
It was hard to tell but in a wood to his left he’d seen something. He looked again. “I saw someone over there.”
“Who? A verderer?”
“No. It looked like one of the men who attacked me. Wait there.”
“Should we not come with you?”
“No, we all ride on until we’re out of sight of the wood. Then I’ll run back sneak up on him. You keep riding for the castle.”
“Why not take him by force?”
“Because I want to take him alive if I can and having him think we’ve not seen him is the best way to do that. Now move before he notices.”
They rode on until they were round the next bend. “Keep my horse moving,” Andrew said as he jumped to the ground. “Try and shield it so he thinks I’m still riding with you.”
“Be careful,” Gillis said. “It could be a trap.”
Andrew didn’t answer,
he was already moving off, crouching low, hiding behind the stalks of wheat. Was he being paranoid? What had he seen really? A momentary flash of a face before a figure vanished into the wood. Was that enough to send him crawling through the mud in the driving rain?
He kept moving forward. He had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. Something was wrong. He wanted to turn back but he didn’t. Above his head thunder rumbled. A storm was coming.
Chapter Fourteen
Beth couldn’t take any more. She’d been accused of burning down half a village. She’d been slapped. She’d been locked in a tower. She’d been almost killed in that loch. She’d seen people die. She’d been lied to so many times she’d lost count and somehow she hadn’t learned her lesson. Now she was bound to a tree because she was too trusting.
Derek had told her she would be safe with Rufus, that he would guide her back to the old hall and protect her while she made her way home. What happened instead? Tied up with no way of escaping.
She tried once more to break free from the ropes holding her to the tree. He would be back soon. This might be her only chance.
At first the walk from the castle seemed fine. Her companion said nothing as they headed out along the road to Pluscarden but she hadn’t minded that. Some of the servants were verbose, others saying nothing unless spoken to. He was obviously one of the latter type.
Then they reached the turn by the wood. He saw something he didn’t like ahead of them. Without pausing, he grabbed her by the arm. “Hurry,” he said. Bandits intent on bloodshed.”
She trusted him. She had no reason not to. She caught a glimpse of horses on the road in the distance as they ran to the wood, soon hidden from view. That was when he’d revealed his face. “I know you,” she said as he slid the hood backward.
“Aye, lassie. I ken you do.”
She saw him laid on the ground by the loch. Had he just feigned death? “You tried to kill Andrew.”
“And now I’m supposed to kill you but I’m not going to.”
“You’re not?” As she spoke she backed slowly away from him but he noticed within seconds, lunging for her and grabbing her wrist.
She fought to free herself but to no avail. Clawing at him did nothing. He just laughed as he pulled out a knife and pointed it toward her. “Sit yourself down there and dinnae move or I’ll have to take out one of those pretty eyes of yours.”
She considered running, then remembered how far they’d come from the castle. How many people had she seen? No more than half a dozen and all far away in the fields. The knife looked wickedly sharp and it was inches from her face. She didn’t run.
Within a minute she was tied to the tree, sitting on the soaking wet earth, cold spreading through her, feeling once again that this world was not meant for her. What was happening just convinced her all the more that she needed to get home. It was too dangerous.
If she could just get out of the ropes, she could sneak away from him, hide deeper in the wood, wait until dark and then find her way to the old hall on her own.
The rain continued to drip on her through the foliage above, soaking the ropes. She tugged as hard as she could but he had tied her too tightly. Why hadn’t she run? She thought of the knife, how easily it might cut into her and how no one would know.
No one knew where she was, not even Derek. He’d just sent her along the road. Did he know who his servant really was? A thought flashed through her mind. Had he done this as revenge for her slapping him when they first met?
Her captor had said he was going to check on the horses going past. Would they be close enough to hear her shout? Was it worth trying? She heard a twig snap and then he was back, knife still in his hand. “Good lass,” he said, a cruel grin spreading across his face. “They’ve all gone by so time for us to be moving on.”
“Where to?” she asked, not liking the way he was looking at her.
“You can come back to my camp with me, keep me company there. All we need is a horse to ease the journey and I’ll have one stolen in two minutes. Don’t go anywhere, will you?”
He laughed at his joke before he left her again, disappearing out of the trees, leaving her to continue her struggle with the bonds holding her in place.
Why had she let him tie her up? She should have run. It was better than the alternative, being taken to his camp and trapped with him.
There was a movement in front of her, something coming through the trees. Was he back already? Then a figure stepped out and Beth felt a huge wave of relief wash over her, warming her frozen bones. “Andrew!” she said. “Is it really you?”
“Aye, lassie,” he replied, striding across to her. “Where is he?”
“He went that way, said he was going to steal a horse.”
She looked up at him as he pulled out a knife. Before she had time to ask what he planned to do he was kneeling down and cutting through the ropes that tied her to the tree.
“Look out!” she cried, seeing past him as her captor returned, his dirk held high over his head.
He swung the blade down toward Andrew’s unprotected neck but all it sliced was thin air. The laird rolled neatly to the right, flicking out his foot as he went, catching his attacker on the ankle and sending him sprawling into the wet mud.
Andrew roared, diving onto the outlaw, landing one punch after another. The two of them rolled together in the mud.
Beth tugged the last of the ropes away and got to her feet, unsure of what to do.
“Do you yield,” Andrew asked, fist clenched above the other man’s head.
The man nodded frantically, spitting out a blackened tooth. “Aye. Just dinnae hurt me no more.”
Andrew stood up slowly, looking down at the stricken figure. “On your feet.”
The man got up slowly but as he did so, he suddenly lunged forward, the dirk still in his hand. Beth went to shout a warning but Andrew had already reacted, leaping to one side and again sticking out a foot.
The man tripped over it, stumbling and falling onto his own blade. He landed heavily, gurgling as he did so. He writhed in place, rolling onto his back, the dirk sticking out of his chest.
“Who sent you?” Andrew asked, grabbing him by the neck. “Tell me who sent you and I’ll stop the bleeding.
“Dirk,” the man said, his fingers wrapping around the handle of the blade, trying to pull it out. “Dirk.” It was the last thing he said, his eyes glazing over a second later.
Beth couldn’t help it. Tears began to fall from her eyes. She’d seen too much death recently. It was more than she could take.
“Did he mention the MacLeishes?” Andrew asked, standing up and looking at her. “Why the sobbing, lassie? You’re safe enough now.”
“You think that’s what matters? He’s dead. You know before coming here I’d never seen a single dead body. It’s all too much. I’m going home.”
“Is that what you were doing out here? Were you trying to get back to the old hall?”
She nodded. “I couldn’t even do that without someone else dying.”
“You want to go back to your own time, don’t you?”
She nodded before frowning. “Wait, are you saying you believe me?”
“Aye, lassie. I do.”
“What made you change your mind?”
“You and your clothes and your knowledge of building techniques no one else has heard of. A stone vault for the hall, camber for the roads, all the rest at the castle. There’s no other story that fits than the one you told from the start. Only…” His voice faded into nothing and he looked down at the ground between them.
“Only what?”
He looked up, straight into her eyes. He held out both his hands, swallowing hers. “I dinnae want you to go back.”
She looked back at him, feeling his rough fingers on her own. “What? Why?”
“I want you to stay with me.”
“But why? I don’t understand why it matters so much to you.”
“Because I love you.”
She realized something in that moment, something she’d always known when she looked deep inside herself, the reason why it had been so hard to go. “I love you too.” At once a pang of guilt struck her. Her mother needed her.
“So you’ll stay?”
Beth paused, thinking hard before answering. She looked down at the body on the ground next to them, knowing that staying might mean seeing many more like him. “I’ll stay.”
“I’m so glad you said that.”
“But only until the building work is finished, then I must find my mother.”
He nodded, his smile fading. “I understand.”
He took her hand, leading her out of the wood to the fields beyond. The rain was slowing and in the distance a flash of blue sky appeared between the fast moving clouds. He stopped, planted his feet apart and grabbed her. “I dinnae know what sent you to me but I’m glad you came.” Then he kissed her.
Beth felt a warmth spreading through her as they embraced but it was accompanied by a poignancy. How many more kisses would they get to share before she had to leave him forever?
Chapter Fifteen
Derek was seething. He sat with a smile fixed on his face, looking for all the world like he was glad to see Andrew and Beth were back in the castle.
The two of them sat together at the top table, eating dinner on that first night back in the great hall, the sounds of the clan echoing around the walls. Everyone was relieved the laird had survived. Derek cursed his misfortune. Three times he had arranged a foolproof plan to kill Andrew and thrice fate had stepped in his way.
He had been careful with his questions, gradually piecing together what had happened on this latest occasion. Take her into the woods. That part went as planned. With her out of the way he could easily get Andrew alone in the wood. Then help Rufus kill him. It should have been easy but he had to go and get himself killed.
Held by the Highlander: A Scottish Time Travel Romance Page 9
