Highlander: Secrets (The Scottish series Book 1)

by Ceri Bladen

  “Nae, ye…” she refrained from saying, idiot. “Naught like that, I promise.” She could see the doubt in Thomasina’s eyes. “Remember—” she reached out to rub the girl’s arm, “—I will put a good word in with the laird; push you up in yer duties.”

  Thomasina gave a faltering smile. Everyone knew—although it was supposed to be private—that Wynda was the laird’s bedmate. If she did this favour, in return, Wynda would whisper good things about her to the laird. “I’ll dae it, as long as it doesn’t harm her.”

  “It won’t. it will just put her tae sleep, so I can get a lock of her hair.”

  “Why dae ye want it, again?”

  “Tae make a doll for the sick girl in the village,” she lied with ease. “Remember, make a tea and offer it tae only Elspeth. Deal? Ye dae this, and I’ll put in a good report? Get ye up the pecking order in the kitchen.” She held out her hand.

  Thomasina took her hand and shook it. “Deal.”

  Aileana stretched her back out with her fists and felt her eyelids flutter closed. It was late. She’d been up since the crack of dawn scrubbing floors—and her body told her so.

  With the laird gone, so was the kindness from most of the servants. It had been a difficult month and as no one, apart from Kameron and a couple of his men, knew her higher station, she was treated as one of them. Worse than them as she was a MacAlpin servant in their eyes—well below them—and a couple of them made sure she knew.

  She gave a wavering smile. She did have friends amongst them; Morag and even Thomasina who’d become friendlier of late. She’d even brought her a cup of warm tea earlier on—not that she drank it, it tasted bitter, so she had thrown it into her bucket of water when Thomasina’s back was turned.

  After she’d cleaned her pail, Aileana was going to find a quiet corner to sleep. The places near the fire in the main hall had already been taken, but she didn’t mind—she was used to cold sleeping quarters since her parents died. She threw the dirty water into a trough and watched it run along the clay pipes to the outside water. She tore her tired gaze away and stifled a yawn—she still had things to do before bed.

  Once she stored the bucket, she returned to the kitchen to find a darkened corner. The kitchen was surprisingly empty tonight, but she had heard the servants had arranged a get together in one of the barns. The invitation hadn’t been extended to her, but that hadn’t surprised her. What surprised her was that Wynda, with the help of Fergus, had taken butts of the laird’s ale for their get together. There would be trouble when he returned.

  Pulling back the rough cloth of her bed, Aileana extended her arms in the air, giving a long-drawn-out yawn. Before she could close her mouth, a rough hand covered it and pulled her back. Her breath came out in a rush as she was slammed back against something hard. She tried to wiggle, but her arms were caught by her sides by a strong arm. Her previous tiredness disappeared as every one of her senses came alive.

  “Keep quiet and still.” A voice whispered into her ear.

  Trying to do what he requested—under duress—Aileana watched as other large shadows grabbed the few servants who were left in the kitchens. Luckily, most of them had already hit their sacks in different areas or were at the gathering.

  Aileana watched them move swiftly in the darkness and wondered why the bell hadn’t been rung if they were under attack? She’d seen the men light the torches—set along the wall—when she’d crossed the court yard hours ago, they were well protected. These men must have sneaked in, or worse, been let in. Her adrenaline kicked in. There was a possibility Kameron had a traitor amongst his men. But why were they attacking women in the kitchen? Her brow knitted. Perchance it was just a game the MacMahon’s played when in drink? It must be an overspill of the merriment going on in the barn. She relaxed. They must have drunk too much of the Laird’s ale.

  When Aileana caught a woman’s whimper, she realised this wasn’t normal, and by the way the beast held her, it was no game. Fear gripped her when she realised they were in danger of being assaulted. All the male servants were at the gathering, the women were defenceless!

  “Walk forward,” the low voice whispered into her ear. He pushed her towards the middle of the kitchen, this hand still over her mouth.

  Gripped tightly by her arm, she looked around at the others. Their eyes were wide. They evidently didn’t know the men—that wasn’t good.

  “Keep quiet, if you nae want trouble.” The man hissed over her head at the captured servants before giving her a warning shake.

  Aileana stopped wriggling trying to assess what was going on, waiting to be put with the rest of the women. If she cleared her head, she might be able to get out unharmed.

  “That’s better…” he bent to whisper into her ear. “Aileana.”

  She froze—he knew her name! No one within the kitchens knew her proper name. Her heart kicked up a notch as, within seconds, the remaining servants were effortlessly gagged, bound, and sat by the large table legs. They were being tied to them, but the table was so heavy, even with a couple of them pushing, they wouldn’t be able to get free to raise the alarm. When they were bound, she had an awful feeling she wouldn’t be next.

  “Let’s go, men.”

  Panic hit her. She wasn’t staying in the kitchen. Aileana stilled as all manner of situations flew through her brain. Her mouth dried, making swallowing difficult until instinct to flee gripped her. She jerked, struggling against the arm that held her—she wasn’t going without a struggle.

  “Be steady, lassie. I mean you no harm, but I will use force if I must. I am returning you home.”

  Home? These men are taking me home?

  Aileana knew she should be pleased, but she wasn’t. What would welcome her when she returned? A beating from her kin for being caught? Having her innocence questioned? Humiliation from churchgoers about her purity? Being placed in the square’s stocks, which was the norm after being kidnapped? No, she didn’t want to go home.

  “Give me the rope, ye galoot!” The man growled at another man.

  When his grip slackened for the briefest of moments, she twisted violently. Aileana needed to flee, so they couldn’t find her. She didn’t know if she would raise the alarm to their invasion, immediately—that had the potential of causing her more harm in the future, if she was ever returned to Ackergill Tower—or to get away and hide until they left; then raise the alarm. There was a hiss from the man when she bit the hand over her mouth. His hand disappeared, but before she had time to protest, a wad of material was pushed in, smothering her protests. Her arms were forced behind her back and the large body pushed hers forward until she was bent over the table. He imprisoned her against the hard surface.

  “We are returning you home to yer clan. We dinnae want any trouble, but dae as ye are told, Aileana. I nae want tae tell yer brothers that ye are more trouble than yer worth.”

  Aileana spat the material out of her mouth. “Who are ye?” She struggled in vein to move the brute off her.

  “A friend of the MacAlpin clan. Yer clan. Keep still. Haud yer wheesht.”

  She had no choice but to hold her tongue when, within seconds, a thick strip of leather pushed into her mouth, holding it in place.

  “That will let ye breathe a wee better, but ye still won’t be able tae make a sound. Dae yerself a favour and keep yer energy for the ride.”

  A garbled sound came out of her mouth, which no one would recognise as words. She felt her tears well, and spill onto the table, wetting her face. She saw two men move behind her, towards the exit. They were evidently on the move.

  “Here’s shorter rope.”

  As she was hauled upwards, her arms still forced behind her back, she felt her wrists being bound together. How I am supposed to ride? Another large man stood in front of her. He reached out and placed a hand too near to her breast. He grinned at her. She tried to pull away, but the brute behind her held her still, so she stiffened her spine and pushed out her chin. Too slowly, as though he was enjoying th
e moment, his hand slid down her waist, over her hip, and towards her thigh. She froze. When straps were tied around her knees, she knew she wasn’t going to be riding. The panic she felt made her heart pound so hard she thought it might burst.

  The man stood and the one behind her forced her to turn around to face him. Her eyes flew to his, hoping he would notice the beseeching look in them. But, friend of the MacAlpins or not, his eyes were full of cool disdain and arrogance. She was in serious trouble. He snorted, bent his knee and shifted his shoulder towards her midriff. He moved forward, straightening up with her on his shoulder. Aileana was both humiliated and angry when his arm crossed the back of her knees and his hand squeezed her buttock. She was tossed over his shoulder like a bag of oats!

  Keeping her head up, her neck strained to look at the servants—her eyes pleading for them to get help when they could. When they looked away despair enveloped her. Even if they were released, they would not bother to tell anyone she was taken.

  Movement over the opposite side of the kitchen had her glance over as the men walked towards the back entrance. Perhaps it was someone to help? Hope kindled in her heart until she saw Wynda smile at her distress before moving out of sight.

  Chapter 9

  Beginning of Spring – March 1681

  Despite the thick blanket of clouds blocking out the weak sun, Kameron smiled. They were on their way home. Only a couple more hours and he would be inside the walls of Calder Castle. That thought pleased him—but what made him push his stallion a little more, was the thought of seeing Aileana again.

  “Laird, dae ye want a bannock?” Angus reached into his sack.

  “Nae, I’m fine, thanks, Angus. I had a hearty meal tae break my fast.”

  “Och, I dinnae like that cheese, stunk more than a Fergus before bath day,” said Donald.

  Kameron laughed. “It tasted better than it looked.”

  “I’ve got a little in my pouch, if ye’d like some,” Angus jested, safe in the knowledge that his cheese would be coming back to Calder Castle with him.

  “Nae, keep yer mingin cheese,” said Donald.

  “We’ll stop over the next glen tae water our horses by the loch,” Kameron stated. He didn’t want to stop, eager to get back, but their horses were too valuable to neglect—regardless of his wishes.

  “Aye, a great idea, cannae say I’m not fair puggled myself, and could dae with a rest. I cannae wait tae get in me scratcher and catch up on sleep,” said Angus.

  “Missing it?” asked Kameron.

  Angus urged his horse towards the flat ground. “Aye, didn’t sleep much in Auld Reekie. The chill got tae me bones, the weather was so dreich.”

  “Aye, it was wet, gloomy and cold once the snow had melted. I dinnae think any of us got much sleep.” He certainly didn’t—he kept thinking of Aileana and his plans.

  “It’s tae noisy in that place. Calder Castle is much nicer than Edinburgh any day of the week,” agreed Donald as they reached the water.

  Kameron loosened the reins for his horse to drink. “It sure is.” What made it even better was what he had waiting there for him.

  After tending to a frosty call of nature, the MacMahon men and their Laird mounted their horses. So far, despite the chill, it had been an easy ride. At least it was one of the rare days the rain held off. There was nothing worse than being pelted by icy rain and getting soaked through—a common problem in the Highlands, despite the thick protection of the woollen great belted kilts, trews, and fur-lined ghilley brogues on their feet.

  Initially, Kameron hadn’t wanted to go to Auld Reekie, but it had ended up being profitable. Court gossip was advantageous at times. There were plenty of gowks and loose tongued men, willing to give any information for a favour. Apart from learning news concerning the increasing anti-Catholic hysteria sweeping England, Kameron learned news about things much closer to home—the history of the MacAlpin and MacMahon feud.

  The old Laird of Ackergill Tower, Laird Errol MacAlpin, had spent years setting up a marriage of his daughter, Margaret MacAlpin to the MacDougall clan to improve his lands and overall strength.

  However, one day, when Margaret MacAlpin ventured too near to MacMahon’s lands—too close to where Kameron’s grandfather patrolled with his men—she and the servants who’d accompanied her, where kidnapped. His grandfather subsequently married her. Kameron had no idea whether they ended up loving or hating each other—they were both dead and buried long before he was born. The land attached to Margaret MacAlpin was vast, and it went through the MacMahon’s family line instead of the MacAlpin’s. It was the land the MacAlpins kept raiding, to this day.

  If the story ended there, it was a common one for the Highlands—but it didn’t. Laird Errol MacAlpin protested so much about the kidnapping of his daughter and more importantly, the lost land and the loss of future power, that in a moment of weakness the king had agreed—if they kept the peace with their neighbours—to award the MacAlpins an equivalent acreage of land when a girl was born to them. It was only when Aileana had been born to his son, Dougal MacAlpin, a generation after, they had secured it.

  Kameron pulled tighter on his horse’s reins. But they obviously weren’t going to let the land slip through their fingers again. Being aware when Aileana married the land would go with her to her new clan, Laird Dougal MacAlpin arranged for his daughter to marry an old accountant within the MacAlpin clan. Kameron’s jaw clenched. The crafty auld fox had made a deal for it to be given back—but the worst part was—the accountant was married. Kameron knew there was no way he was going to let an auld man get his hands on someone as lovely as Aileana—he intended to have that privilege. It didn’t matter to him about the land, the MacAlpins were welcome to it—an apology for past wrongs—he only wanted Aileana. When he got back, he would make sure she was his.

  Kameron’s thoughts kept him occupied on the long journey and before long the party entered the densely wooded gorge through which the River Garry cut through. Under the cover of trees, the rain didn’t drench their clothes. Kameron noticed Angus becoming twitchy. “What’s wrong with ye, Angus. Have ye fleas in yer trews, man?

  Angus growled under his breath. “Nae, it’s just I didnae like the woods.” He slid his gaze around. “There could be wolves in here.”

  Kameron snorted and tapped his sword. “We’re well protected from beast or men.” He smiled at Angus who still didn’t look happy. “Besides, there are rumours that Sir Ewen Cameron of Lochiel shot the last living wolf earlier this year.”

  “Och, that might be right, but I still didnae like it. Tae many things can hide in the shadows.”

  Kameron looked upwards, through the trees. The light was fading, and although he wanted to get back home, he couldn’t risk his men or horses. “I tell ye what. As auld Angus here is akin tae a frightened mouse—” he tried to hide his smile when the men laughed, “—we’ll take shelter for tonight. We’re heading towards the village of Killiecrankie. We’ll find a tavern there and start again in the morning.”

  “Aye, sounds a grand plan,” said Angus, still nervously looking around.

  A couple of days later when Kameron spotted a local drover it was difficult not to push his stead faster. They were nearly home but the horses had travelled at a speed already.

  “Fair travels tae ye, Brodie, on this cold afternoon.” Kameron pulled his horse up next to the man taking his cattle along the unpaved drove road to the Lowlands to market.

  Brodie nodded. “I’ll be back with good coin in my pouch, Laird.”

  “Aye, I’m sure you will. The cattle look good, despite the bad famine.”

  “Aye, they will fetch a good price down in the Lowlands.”

  Kameron touched the top of his bonnet. “Aye well, good day tae you. Be careful of those Boarder Reivers and haste ye back. See ye when ye arrive back at Calder. Lang may yer lum reek.”

  “Thanking ye, Laird,” said Brodie, tapping one of his cows with his stick. He stopped. “Oh, Laird.”

 
“Aye, Brodie?”

  “I’ll be thinking ye need to make speed, Laird.”

  “And why, Brodie?”

  Brodie let out a snort and scratched his head. “Well, ye ken the misses?”

  “Aye?” Kameron’s eyes narrowed on the man. He was obviously wanting to tell him but finding it difficult.

  “Bit of a gossip, she is, Laird.”

  Kameron ignored the sniggers from the men around him. “Aye?”

  “Well… I’m not one to gossip.”

  “Come on, Brodie, out with it,” said Kameron, his patience running thin.

  “There was a gathering at yer Castle, with yer ale, Laird. So they say.”

  “Was there?” Kameron gripped the reins of his horse tighter, as Eachann sensed his changing mood. “Thank ye for informing me, Brodie, it’ll not be forgotten. Good day to ye.” Kameron kicked his heels into his mount and waved his arm—his men taking a wide berth of the drover, not to spook his herd. “On tae Calder Castle.”

  Brodie watched as the men sped away. Mayhap I should have mentioned that servant being snatched? His brow wrinkled before he huffed. “Nae, she’s only a MacAlpin, the Laird willnae care,” he muttered before making his way.

  Forest-Tarradale, Scottish Highlands

  “I’m going tae sleep.” Aileana stood up from the log she sat on and looked at the men around the fire. She had been freed from her ties, but they still watched her.

  “Dinnae ye go far.”

  She glanced at the dark, forested area of Tarradale. “Where would I go? Ye are taking me home, aren’t ye?” That thought distressed her. She needed time on her own.

  The man let out a short huff and waved his hand. “Find a spot by the tree over there—where I can still see you.”

  It didn’t matter where she slept. Nothing mattered. They had ridden hard and were far away from Calder Castle. With every hour they travelled, her hopes of having a life away from Ackergill Tower faded. Despair wrapped its arms around her as she pulled her MacMahon weaved earasaid around her. The air was as icy as the fear in her heart. She didn’t know how her brothers would treat her when she arrived home. No doubt they would lock her up and leave her no freedom. She already felt the loneliness and tears glaze her eyes, despite her efforts to remain strong. Now she was away from MacMahon land, she could admit to herself that, for the first time since her mother had died, she’d felt safe—even though not everyone liked her, she felt safe.