Her Highlander's Promise

by B. J. Scott

  He glared at Callum. The man was well in his cups, held a grudge, and meant to see him dead. He obviously had no intention of backing down. “Attacking innocent women and sneaking up on someone from behind is the sign of a coward, not a man,” Blair said as he widened his stance, preparing to do battle. The sooner he got this over with, the sooner he could be back on the trail to Kilmorack. Laurel needed his help, and nothing would stand in his way.

  “We’ll see who’s a coward,” Callum growled and lunged forward.

  The sound of metal clashing against metal echoed through the valley as they exchanged blows. While Callum proved a formidable opponent, Blair easily held his own. Known for his skill with a sword, he had the upper hand for most of the fight, but when the other two joined in, the odds swung in their favor. Flanked on three sides, Blair backed up to get a better view of his attackers.

  “Stand fast, men. I want to deal with this fool on my own,” Callum snapped, then motioned with a sweep of his arm for them to move off to the side. “We’ll finish this now. I tire of the game, and would like to get back to the inn so I can spend some time with the comely Katie before morn.”

  “I’ll not let that happen,” Blair countered. Fueled by anger, he launched his offensive. Even with an injured arm, he wielded his sword with the expertise of a highly skilled warrior, easily knocking Callum to the ground.

  He stood over him, the tip of his blade pointed at his opponent’s chest. “Have you had enough? It is I who tire of this game. If I ever see you bothering another lass again, or hear that you have returned to the inn and laid hand to Katie, I will hunt you down and flay you where you stand. Do I make myself clear?”

  Callum propped himself up on one arm. “Best you make good on that promise while you have a chance.”

  “Dinna tempt me,” Blair replied. Pain erupted at the back of his head and he collapsed to his knees, falling face first to the ground.

  His head throbbed and despite his efforts, could not muster the strength to get up or to roll over. He tasted dirt. Blood trickled down his cheek and stung his eyes. He could hear the men talking, but was helpless to respond or defend himself.

  “I think he’s dead,” one of the men said, then nudged Blair’s shoulder with the toe of his boot.

  “I dinna mean to kill him. I only wanted to stop him from running Callum through, so I picked up a rock and hit him,” another replied.

  “I dinna need your help,” Callum grumbled, then delivered several forceful kicks to Blair’s left side. “But now the deed is done, he willna bother us again. Where is his horse?” He rolled Blair to his back, then snatched the small coin pouch from his belt.

  “The beast ran off. Long gone if you ask me,” one of the men answered.

  Try as he might, Blair could barely draw a breath after being kicked in the side, and opening his eyes was impossible. Remaining conscious was hard enough. Even if he could respond, there was no way he could fight back, so decided his best chance of survival was to let them believe he was dead.

  “Gather up what you can and we’ll be away. Forget about the horse,” Callum ordered.

  “Will we go back to the inn?” one of the men asked.

  “Nay, we were seen fighting and when they find his body, I want to be long away.”

  Blair heard the thunder of hooves as they fled, then darkness consumed him.

  Chapter 12

  “Is he dead, Da?” a lad asked.

  “I dinna know, Liam. There is a lot of blood on the sleeve of his tunic, and judging by the lump he has on the back of his head, it appears he struck it on something. Could be he fell from his horse and landed on that rock. There’s blood on that, too,” a man replied.

  “I dinna see a horse anywhere,” the lad said.

  “Must have run off, or maybe it was stolen. Let’s not fret about that now, son. First we need to see if he is still breathing.”

  Two hands grasped Blair’s shoulders, then rolled him over onto his back. He groaned and brought a shaky hand to his forehead, shielding his eyes from the blinding sunlight streaming through the trees. The last he remembered it was dusk. Had he slept the entire night away? He lay in the dirt, his head pounding, nausea tugging at his belly. Laurel’s face flashed before his eyes. She needed him, and he’d not let her down.

  “What happened to you?” the man asked.

  “I was attacked and robbed,” Blair said through clenched teeth. “They roughed me up, then left me for dead.”

  “Lucky for you, my son and I came along when we did. Are you able to get up or do you need help?” He offered Blair his hand.

  “I think I can manage. But I need a minute.” Blair propped himself up on one elbow, drew in a slow deep breath, then climbed to his feet.

  His legs felt wobbly, causing him to stagger as he took his first step toward the river. When he finally reached the bank, he fell to his knees. He wasn’t sure which was worse, the pain radiating across his shoulder or the hammering in his head.

  “Here, now, you need to take it easy. Dinna rush yourself until you feel steady on your feet. In addition to your wounded arm, you have a nasty bump.” The man gripped Blair’s shoulder.

  “I was born with a hard head. Or so my father is always telling me.” Blair tried to laugh, but when he did, his skull throbbed and his stomach roiled.

  After splashing some water on his face, he removed his tunic in order to inspect and clean his wounded shoulder. Fortunately, the cut did not appear deep enough to slice into bone or muscle, but it still bled a great deal.

  “Looks like you could use some mending,” the stranger remarked. “Liam, fetch the satchel on the back of my saddle and the flask of whisky.”

  The lad nodded, then ran off to do his father’s bidding.

  “I’m fine,” Blair said. “I dinna have time to tarry. I need to get to Kilmorack. How long a ride is it?”

  “You willna be riding far if that wound opens up and you bleed to death. What is so important that you canna take a few minutes for me to put in a stitch or two?”

  “I must find a woman and convince her to come back with me in order to stop a wedding from taking place.”

  Blair was certain his explanation made little sense to the man, but he didn’t care. While grateful for his aide, he had no time for idle chatter.

  “I intended to ride through the night, but the attack dashed those plans. Now I’ll have to make up for lost time.” He dipped his hand into the river, scooped out some water, and drank. “Do you live close by?” He wasn’t even sure if the man was friend or foe.

  The man extended his arm. “I’m William Makenzie. My son and I are on a hunting trip.”

  Blair grasped the man’s wrist, and they exchanged a hardy shake. “Blair Cameron.”

  “Here you go, Da.” The lad ran up to them with a canvas sack and a wineskin in hand.

  William turned to his son. “Now fetch me a strand of hair from the tail of your mount. Make sure it’s a long one.”

  “Aye, Da,” the lad replied, then sprinted toward their horses.

  “My wife never lets me leave without healing supplies. Putting in a few tucks will only take a minute, then you can be on your way.” He opened the sack and retrieved a long sewing needle, made from an animal quill. After uncapping the wineskin and taking a long swig, he handed it to Blair. “This will cure what ails you.”

  “Thanks for the offer, but my head is fuzzy enough without spirits.” He gave the whisky back to William.

  “It’s to help dull the pain, but if you’d rather, we’ll pour some on the wound to keep it from festering.”

  While they waited for the lad, Blair tore a strip of fabric from the hem of his tunic, soaked it in the water, then cleaned his injury.

  “It will take several hours hard ride to reach Kilmorack. How d
o you plan to get there without a mount?” William asked as he poured a small amount of whisky on Blair’s wound.

  Blair jumped and bit down on his lower lip—the liquid stinging more than anticipated. He sat back on his heels and glanced around the clearing. “They took my coin and anything else of value they could carry, but no one could ever steal my horse.” He whistled, and the obedient steed came out of a copse of trees, then trotted toward him, tossing his head.

  “It pays to have a well-trained beast,” William said. “He’s a fine animal.”

  “He is that. My father uses only the finest breeding stock.”

  “Here you go, Da.” Liam handed his father a strand of tail hair. “Where did the destrier come from?” he asked, approaching the horse.

  After William had threaded the hair though the needle, he went to sewing Blair’s wound. Once finished, he took a strip of clean linen from the sack and wrapped it around his arm. “This patch will have to do for now, but I suggest you seek out a healer when you reach Kilmorack. Have them change the dressing, and apply some healing herbs.” He returned his supplies to the sack, the stood.

  Blair’s attempt to climb to his feet proved more difficult than anticipated. His legs shaky, he stumbled forward, grabbing on to William’s arm for support.

  “I still think you should rest a while before you attempt to travel,” William said.

  Blair shook his head. “I appreciate your concern, but must be on my way.” After drawing in a deep breath, he moved to his horse, then mounted.

  “God speed,” William said. “Ride along the river and it will take you right to Kilmorack.”

  “I will.” Blair put his heels to the horse’s flank.

  “Please wake up, m’lady,” Isla said as she grabbed Laurel by the shoulders and shook her. “What has that old hag done to you?”

  Laurel heard Isla’s plea and willed her eyes to open, but the lids proved too heavy. She tried to speak, but her mouth was so dry. What she wouldn’t give for a drink of ale or water.

  “Lady Laurel, you must open your eyes.” This time Isla patted her cheek.

  “I’m thirsty,” Laurel finally managed to say.

  “Here. I brought you some water.” She cradled the back of Laurel’s head with her hand, gently lifted, then brought a cup to her lips.

  Grabbing the vessel with both hands, Laurel drank greedily.

  “Can you sit, m’lady?”

  “I dinna know. My head is spinning and I am verra tired.” She lay back on the pallet.

  “Och, it is as I feared. The mistress put something in your fare. You mustna eat or drink anything she sends,” Isla cautioned.

  “I had no choice. Deirdre threatened to extend Angus’ time in the pit if I dinna eat. She also told me she would add to your chores. I couldna allow that to happen.”

  “Angus wouldna want you to put yourself in danger to protect him and neither do I. The mistress is evil and means to do you harm. Just like she did your parents.”

  “We still have no proof. Only my word against hers,” Laurel replied.

  “Is the fact she tainted your food not enough?” Isla asked. She clutched Laurel’s hand. “When Lord Cameron returns with Elise, we will have all the proof we need.”

  “Only if Blair gets back in time and if she agrees to accompany him. They have but two days before the wedding.”

  “You must have faith. He will honor his promise. But while the witch was in here with you, I took the liberty of searching her chamber. I found—”

  “Nay, Isla. You mustna take such risks.” She cut the maid off before she could finish. The lass had no idea to what lengths Deirdre would go to get her way.

  “Dinna fash. I was verra careful, and I had Mairi keep watch. I dinna tell her why, just that I needed to get into the mistress’ chamber and required her assistance to do so. I was in and out of her solar quickly, but I found some verra interesting things.”

  “Tell me,” Laurel demanded.

  “I dinna have a lot of time so tried to think of places she might hide things that she dinna want anyone to know she had. I checked in her trunk and on her shelves and found nothing. I was about to give up the search when I noticed the corner of a canvas sack peeking out from under the mattress on her bed. Sure enough, it contained a variety of dried herbs, all of which could be poisonous if given in the right amount.”

  “How can you be certain? I wouldna know a deadly plant from one that is harmless.”

  “I took a few leaves from each bundle. Then I brought them to Willa, the clan healer. She told me what they were,” Isla said proudly.

  “What did you tell Willa? We dinna want anyone else knowing about our suspicions before Blair returns.”

  “I lied. I told her that the cook sent me out to pick herbs for the evening meal and I wasna sure if they were safe, so thought it best to check with her first. She said that one of the plants, the nightshade, while used as a medicine, could prove deadly if a person takes too much. It might be responsible for many of the mysterious symptoms that your da had before his death. And it could explain why your mam became so ill and died.”

  “If the herbs are medicinal, then it wouldna be unusual for Deirdre to have them in her possession. She could say they were for healing purposes. So we are not any further ahead than we were before.” Laurel released a ragged sigh. “I fear we willna be able to prove that Deirdre had a hand in my parents’ deaths. At least not in time to stop the wedding.”

  “Aye, she could say she kept the herbs for medicinal reasons, but the clan has a healer, and the mistress has called upon her when ailing, or if Allan needed anything. He was a sickly bairn, and she frequently relied on Willa’s skills. For your cousin to have large quantities of Belladonna hidden in her chamber would be unlikely, unless she were using it for something other than healing.”

  “I have no doubt that Deirdre was responsible for my parents’ demise, but dinna understand why she would risk giving me the same poison before the wedding. It would make more sense for her to wait until after Allan and I marry.”

  “My guess is that she only intends to give you enough to make you cooperate without argument. If you are unable to protest, the union will take place without a problem,” Isla replied. “It is after the wedding that concerns me the most. There is no telling what she has in mind for you once her son is laird.” Isla shook her head and clucked her tongue. “Unfortunately, we must wait for Lord Cameron’s return. Once he’s exposed the mistress for the evil hag she is, the two of you will be free to marry.”

  Laurel managed to sit on the edge of her pallet. “I fear you are right about her malicious intent. She tore my mother’s gown and I lost my temper and struck her, but she dinna respond in kind. Instead, she walked away.”

  Isla’s eyes widened. “That is strange behavior for a woman known for violence.”

  Laurel covered her face with her hands. “She will return, and I have no doubt she will force me to eat again. I need my wits about me, but am hard pressed for a way to resist without making her suspicious.”

  “You must try, m’lady.” Isla grasped Laurel’s hands and looked her in the eyes. “Dinna let her use your friends to force you into following her orders. Resist at all cost.”

  The door flew open, hitting the wall with a loud thud. “What are you doing here?” Deirdre shouted as she stormed into the room.

  Chapter 13

  The way Deirdre slithered into the chamber reminded Laurel of a venomous serpent ready to strike its prey. She glared at Isla, a menacing scowl contorting her features as she moved toward them. “Care to explain why you are here when I forbid you to leave the lower floor of the castle?” She came to an abrupt halt inches from where the maid stood.

  Isla didn’t reply. She glanced at the floor, nervously wringing her hands at the same time.


  “Well?” Deirdre crossed her arms over her breasts. “I’m waiting for an explanation. Tell me why I shouldna have you publicly flogged and banished for your disobedience.”

  Isla glanced up at Deirdre. “I have no excuse, Mistress,” she finally muttered softly.

  Laurel’s heart sank. She wished Isla would say something, anything in her own defense.