by Aileen Adams
Still within the shelter of the trees, Jake paused behind the trunk of one, and then slowly stepped slightly to the side of it. Anyone looking in this direction from the campfire would see only shadows. If he moved slowly enough, his shadow would not be discerned from any other.
Three figures huddled around a small campfire. They all wore cloaks with hoods pulled up. He saw no profiles, no faces to determine their identity. From where he stood he heard low voices. Occasionally, the wood of their small fire crackled or popped, but otherwise it was silent. One held what looked to be a rabbit on a stick over the fire.
In the far distance, beyond the campfire, an owl hooted, its cry echoing down the narrow valley.
Hugh approached the campfire on the left, Maccay on the right, both a short distance away. Not close enough to communicate in a whisper. They didn’t need to. They stepped quietly toward the three strangers, close enough for each of them to get a better look at the trio huddled around the fire.
Wrapped in their cloaks, hunched over the fire, nearly knee-to-knee, trying to shelter the flames from view, without much success.
Jake was about to approach when he heard the snap of a stick. He inwardly cursed. Hugh or Maccay must've skipped on a stick. He was not the only one to hear it. The trio huddled around the fire stiffened. Without an instant of hesitance, the three immediately stood and then ran into the darkness. A moment later Jake heard the sound of horse’s hooves.
“Damnation!” he growled, approaching the fire, his limp severe. “Hugh, go get the horses!”
Hugh hurried to do his bidding while he and Maccay approached the fire. Maccay kicked dirt over the fire and the half-cooked rabbit until it lay under a pile of smoldering ashes remained.
Hugh returned with the horses and the others. By the time they all mounted and rode in pursuit of the three strangers, the moon had just risen over the treetops.
“There!”
Maccay pointed. Perhaps a half-mile away he saw three riders, their horses in a full run just disappearing around an outcropping.
Just before they disappeared, the hood of one of the riders slipped and fell backward. A flash of red hair and a white face as the rider turned to look her shoulder.
Ceana.
They sped in pursuit of the riders, but by the time they too had rounded the outcropping and headed down the slope, it had grown too dark to follow. To continue in the darkness over such rough terrain would prove foolish, not only for their own safety, but that of their horses.
“Did you recognize the men with her?”
“Aye,” Jake replied to Maccay’s question.
He had not been the only one to recognize Ceana.
“Maccay, you ride back to report to Phillip. Hugh and I will scout around a bit and follow first thing in the morning.”
Maccay prepared to ride off, but Jake stopped him and gestured for a private word.
He spoke softly to him for several moments.
Maccay listened, his eyes growing wider with surprise.
Finally, with a grin, he nodded and rode off.
9
Heather paced in her room, anxious for Jake to return. She had missed nearly a week of training and kept telling herself that was the reason she wanted him to return. If she were to be honest with herself, she also had to admit that she missed spending time with him. The more she got to know him, the more she liked him.
Since her arrival in the Highlands with her sister, she hadn't become overly acquainted with Jake. Yes, they ate their meals together and often sat together in front of the fire in the evening before everyone headed off to bed, but she had never really had the opportunity to get to know him on a personal, private level.
Before she had begun training with him, she had believed Jake was quite moody and difficult. She had mentioned that to Sarah a couple of months ago, but her sister reminded her that pain could cause a person to become withdrawn and irritable.
Jake was a proud man; a man who didn't want to admit weakness, so he kept his discomfort to himself.
The past couple of weeks had been illuminating. Heather had learned that Jake was a very interesting man. They shared several things in common, not the least of which was their interest in weapons and how to use them. While Jake was a trained soldier, not every soldier was as adept, experienced, or knowledgeable about the weapons and their usage as he’d showed her.
Jake was more than a warrior. He also had a sentimental side, a thoughtful side that she had never noticed before. Like her, he often looked up at the stars at night.
She had watched him on numerous occasions since they had begun their secret training sessions. Once, she had looked down at him from her bedchamber window as he stood in front of the manor house, legs spread and arms akimbo, staring up at the moon.
What did he think about when he looked at the stars or the moon? Did he think about how small and finite they were under such a vast expanse of wonder?
He shared her fascination and curiosity with the placement of the stars and the way they traveled through the night sky. She never would've thought Jake Duncan was a stargazer. A dreamer. A man with a vivid imagination that roamed far beyond her typical and biased opinion of a soldier.
While Jake was not interested in politics and didn't have the patience that Phillip had when dealing with disputes among their clan, she did see, on more than one occasion, his concern for the villagers and those living on Duncan lands.
The other day, before Jake left on patrol with Maccay and Hugh and a few other men, she had watched him gather food, some old clothes, and several older coverlets from somewhere in the manor house and take them into the village.
She had followed him, discreetly, to satisfy her curiosity about what he planned to do with such items.
A woman named Millicent had recently lost her husband due to a strange malady that not even Sarah could cure. They had three children, all under ten years of age.
Jake made sure that the family would be fed, clothed, and warm during the coming winter months. She found out later that he had even paid several of the villagers to go to the woods and chop wood for the widow—enough to last her through the winter. Another had re-thatched the roof of her small home.
Jake did have a gentle side, one that she had been surprised to see with her own eyes when playing with one of the young children of the village. Laughing, Jake had scooped the toddler up into his arms and balanced him on his shoulder. The child clutched two handfuls of Jake's hair and squealed with delight.
So, she had to admit it.
Admit to herself that she had grown fond of Jake over the past few weeks. She was not terribly surprised to also admit that she wouldn't mind if he kissed her again.
She paced restlessly in her room.
He had not returned, and she wasn't sure when he would. The nights grew colder and damper. She could imagine that Jake was uncomfortable. When he did return, he would likely be short tempered. Maybe even refuse to continue their training.
She knew she had to be patient. If there was trouble brewing on Duncan lands, he might not have the time. The colder weather might discourage him from wanting to help her. She tried not to jump to conclusions, but it was hard not to become discouraged.
She wasn’t sure what made her so impatient. One thing she did know. She needed to find her place. She wanted to feel as if she fit in here with the Highlanders. She needed to find something that she was extraordinarily good at, like Sarah. She had to find something that would fulfill her sense of purpose.
She wasn't necessarily interested in getting married, but the thought often crossed her mind. What would she be able to offer a husband? The ability to cook and sew and bear children? She wanted more than that. She didn't want to be an ordinary wife. She wanted to be an extraordinary one. Like Sarah. But she could only do that if she—
The sound of a horse quickly approaching distracted her and she stepped to the window and looked out.
Maccay.
He looked to
be in a hurry, barely allowing his horse to come to a halt before he slipped off its back and quickly approached the manor house.
What was that all about? Was Jake all right?
What would—
She heard muffled voices from downstairs.
In a matter of minutes, Maccay left the house, and ran toward the small barracks where the Duncan clan’s men slept.
She heard Sarah's voice calling something out to someone.
Moments later, Phillip emerged from the house, quickly following Maccay. A knock on her door prompted her to turn from the window.
“Heather, it's Sarah. Are you awake?”
Heather moved away from the window, growing alarmed. “I'm awake.”
Sarah stepped into the room with a forced smile, a slightly pinched expression, and nervously biting her lip.
Heather frowned. “What's happening? Has something happened?”
Sarah stared at her for a moment, then offered a short nod.
“Apparently, Ceana has been spotted. Along the border of Duncan lands.”
“Is Jake all right?” she blurted. “And the others with him?” she belatedly added.
Sarah stepped toward the bed and sat down, arms crossed over her chest, eyeing Heather. “You like him, don't you?”
Heather didn't respond right away as her face flushed with warmth. “Well, he's my brother-in-law, isn't he? Aren't I supposed to like him?”
“Don't play coy with me, Heather,” Sarah gently scolded. “And you're blushing. Does the mere mention of Jake's name evoke such a reaction?”
Again, heat claimed her cheeks.
Sarah smiled, but her eyes did not show amusement.
“Heather, there's something I need to talk to you about.” She patted the bed beside her. “Sit down here with me, won't you? Your pacing is making me dizzy.”
Heather realized she was pacing and stopped. Standing near the fireplace, the warmth soaking into her back, she eyed her sister.
Something was wrong.
“What's on your mind, Sarah? Are you sure everyone's all right? Are you worried about what will happen if they capture this woman?”
“No,” Sarah replied, hands folded in her lap. “The woman has brought this trouble down upon herself. She tried to kill the laird's brother. She of all people knows what kind of punishment that can bring.”
Heather watched her sister, tried to gauge her thoughts. “Do you think they're going to kill her?”
“I don't know what they're going to do. But Phillip is a just and fair man. Ceana has been banished, but she has broken the rules. I don't think it would matter to the Duncan clan one way or the other if she never stepped foot back on these lands, but now that she has, they have to do something.”
Heather leaned her shoulder against the stones of the fireplace, more than familiar with her sister’s expressions. Something was definitely wrong. She sensed it. “What's the matter, Sarah?”
Her sister hesitated before answering. She glanced down at her hands, then up at Heather. “Is it true?”
Heather felt another flush of heat. Not caused by embarrassment this time, but guilt. She knew that somehow her sister had learned her secret. Still, she tried to shrug it away. “Is what true?”
“Have you been training with weapons?”
Heather's heart skipped a beat, and she felt a fluttering in her stomach.
Should she deny it?
“Yes,” she replied simply.
Sarah stood, hands to her sides, palms open in question. “Why, Heather? Why under heaven would you be doing such a thing?”
That wasn't even close to what Heather had expected Sarah to say.
She frowned. “You don't think it's a good idea for a woman to know how to defend herself? You of all people know how vulnerable women are.”
“Heather, you have no idea—”
Heather interrupted her, growing annoyed. “You're right, Sarah. I have no idea what really happened when Phillip kidnapped you, or how you tried to escape. Or what happened when Ceana and that man from the Orkney clan kidnapped you. I know what happened, but I don't know the details.”
She paused and turned away from her sister, walking to the window to gaze down at the activity in front of the manor.
Horses were being led out of the stables, men gathering weapons and speaking quietly among themselves. Their sense of urgency was palpable even from her second-floor room.
She turned toward her sister. “Do you know how… vulnerable I felt when you just disappeared?” Her eyes wide and filled with warm tears, she felt the anger, the dismay, and the uncertainty that she remembered. “I didn't know what had happened to you. For all I knew, you were dead and eaten by a bear in the woods! And for the first time in my life, I realized how scared I was. How much I leaned on you, counted on you, to protect me from the evils of the world—”
“And I always will, Heather,” Sarah broke in quietly, eyes wide with dismay. “What’s—”
“It took your disappearance for me to realize how vulnerable I was!”
“Heather—” Sarah rose from the bed and took a step toward her sister.
Heather held out her hand, growing angrier by the second. “No, Sarah. You need to know. We have not spoken of what happened while you were gone. When you didn't come home that first night, and Patrick came home, drunk as usual, demanding to know where you were, I couldn't answer. And he took it out on me, Sarah. Me!”
Sarah dropped her hand to her side and gently shook her head. “I'm sorry, Heather. I tried very hard to escape, to get back—”
“It's not your fault! I'm not angry with you. I'm angry with myself!”
“But why?”
“Because I've always relied on you to protect me. I should've been learning how to protect myself!” She turned away from Sarah and looked down at the floor before looking back. “You've always protected me, even before Papa went off to war. And so I gradually learned to rely on you, more and more over the years. You protected me from everything; from the bullies in the village, from Patrick, always trying to make my life easier while you took the brunt of it.”
A tear spilled over her eye and slowly made its way down her cheek. “You were always the strong one, Sarah. You're the gifted one. But I don't want to be the weak one anymore. I don't want to be the one cowering behind a closed door while everyone else is fighting.” She swiped a tear away from her cheek and straightened her shoulders. “I want to learn how to defend myself. I want to learn how to fight!”
“But why? We’re safe here!”
Heather signed, slowly shaking her head, offering a wan smile to her sister. “You are, Sarah. You've married the laird. But what of me? What happens—”
“Heather, there are a number of young men interested in you and would like nothing better to marry you. Why—”
“What if I don't want to marry them? What if I decide I want to live on my own?”
Sarah sputtered. “Heather, what's gotten into you? Are you telling me that you don't want to get married, to someday have children, a family of your own—”
“I want more than that!” she cried, stomping her foot on the floor for emphasis. “I want to have something special, like you!” Sarah didn't understand. She could tell by the look of confusion on her sister’s face. “You’re a healer. Your reputation is known far and wide.” She glanced at the window and then back at his sister, who was obviously trying to understand. But how could she? “I want to have something special too.”
“It's one thing to want to do something special with your life,” Sarah said, not unkindly, though her frown had deepened. “But it's quite another to expect the laird’s brother to teach you how to use weapons of war. Why ever for?”
Heather stared at her sister, shocked speechless.
The only way Sarah could've known that Jake was teaching her was if Jake himself had divulged her secret.
She felt betrayed.
“What possessed such foolishness?” Sarah pressed.<
br />
Her sister's words might have been spoken softly, but the judgment she perceived behind the words felt harsh to Heather.
She sucked in a breath and stared wide-eyed at her sister, filled with dismay.
“Foolishness?” Her voice trembled as she felt a new surge of hurt bubble up inside her. Why couldn't her sister understand?
“Heather—”
Heather stood her ground and choked back her anger.
Sarah couldn't understand. She had never been vulnerable. She doubted that anyone would truly understand how she felt nor why she felt it. Not even Jake.
She felt humiliated. Jake had been patronizing her. He promised he would keep her secret and he hadn't.
Sarah stared at her, as if trying to read her thoughts.
“Jake has been teaching you, hasn't he? Even so, it wasn't he who divulged the truth to us,” Sarah said. “Maccay mentioned it to Phillip in passing because Ceana has been spotted in company with a couple of men from the McGregor clan. Jake was concerned for your safety—”
“I can take care of myself!” she snapped, moving toward the door.
“Wait, Heather, where are you going?”
“Not far,” she replied. “I just need to be by myself for a little while.”
“Heather!”
Sarah reached for her, but Heather shook off her hand. “Leave me alone, Sarah.”
With that, Heather strode past her sister and out of her room. She hurried down the stairs but didn't bother going out the front door, knowing that Phillip and his men were gathering out there with their weapons, prepared to go to find Ceana and the McGregor men with her.
She ventured into the kitchen, quiet now, and left through the rear door.
Blinking back tears, Heather clasped her arms around herself against the day’s chill, no thought to the time, the growing chill, and darkness the darkness of the woods. A choked sob bubbled up in her chest.
No one understood.
Jake had betrayed her!
Phillip knew!
She burned with embarrassment and anger. Her sense of hurt left her feeling dismayed and confused.
Sarah didn't understand. Of all the people in the world, she would have thought would understand her reasoning, Sarah was the one. And yet she didn't.
