by Gwyn Brodie
"For your and Roderick's sake—as well as our own—don't let Gordon or his men ken we've gone until you absolutely have no other choice."
"Aye, m'lady."
Grabbing one of the candles from her bundle, Jillian lit it in the fireplace, and secured it in the silver candleholder she'd taken from her room. She took Ian by the hand. "'Tis time for us to go."
Ian waved good-bye to his beloved nursemaid and followed Jillian out into the tunnel. Before they continued on, she made certain the panel was once again securely closed.
His small hand clutched hers tightly. She carefully chose her steps so as not to lose her footing on the debris scattered about the floor.
Stale, musty air assaulted her lungs and she thought for a moment she was going to start coughing. Fighting down the urge, she kept going.
"Jilly," Ian whispered, pressing closer, "what's that noise?"
She gently squeezed his hand. "I'm certain 'tis naught to worry over, perhaps a tiny mouse scurrying about. Come now, we must find the way out." She prayed the big rat she'd encountered earlier wasn't nearby. Ian wouldn't be able to hold down his screams if it happened across his own foot.
The flickering candlelight cast long shadows the length of the stone walls, bringing to mind all the frightening stories she'd listened to as a child, especially one that she remembered in particular.
Many years ago, the wife of a clan chief residing at Lochstorm, took a young male servant as her lover during her husband's long absence in France. The secret love affair lasted for some time, and the servant fell deeper and deeper in love with the woman. Upon her husband's return, she completely ignored the servant. Rather than live without her, he hung himself from a beam in the tunnels. Several days later, he was found by two children hiding from their nursemaid. 'Twas said he roamed the tunnels weeping and mourning for his lover. She shuddered inwardly, forced such dark thoughts to the back of her mind, and kept going. A sudden rush of cool, damp air hit her in the face, and the candle went out.
Ian pushed his small body as close as possible against hers. "Jilly, I'm afraid."
His voice trembled, and she knew he was about to cry. "Don't worry, sweeting, we're almost out." Without the light of the candle, all Jillian could do was feel her way along the wall. After what seemed like forever, but only a few minutes in truth, the cool air from outside gusted against her fingers. She'd found the exit. Locating the iron slide bolt, she tried to shove it over, but it didn't nudge. Age and lack of use, along with the continuous dampness of the Highlands, had taken its toll on the piece of iron and rusted it shut.
"Hurry, Jilly, I don't like it in here."
"I ken, just a wee bit longer," she said, feeling about at her feet, whilst hoping she wouldn't come across the rat. She found a large piece of stone, mayhap left by the masons who built the castle many years ago.
"Ian, look away whilst I try to break the door open," she said, and struck the crusty latch with all the strength she could muster, and praying that no one would hear the noise above the steady sound of the pouring rain. After a couple of hard blows, the latch fell away.
She pulled her sgian dubh from the sheath and dumped the gate key out into her hand. She slid it between her teeth. Jillian wanted to waste no time, once they reached the gate.
Time had completely sealed the door over with thick vines. Jillian had to shove her shoulder against the door several times, before she managed to get it to open wide enough for the two of them to slip through. Her shoulder ached terribly, but at the moment she had more important things to worry about.
Pushing the door closed once again, she did her best to pull the vines back over it. She hoped no one would notice they'd been disturbed for at least a day, giving them time to reach Ravenskull. They'd made it outside the castle, but they were yet far from safe.
She slipped the key from her mouth. "Ian," she whispered near his ear, "Don't speak until I tell you 'tis safe to do so."
"Aye, I'll not, Jilly," he whispered back.
After placing the key back between her teeth, she wrapped the wool blanket around him and over his head. Then picked him up and held him against her shoulder, knowing for a certainty they'd reach the cover of the wood much sooner if she carried him. But first they had to get past the gate.
She looked about and listened, making sure no one was around. Jillian pulled the hood of the cloak down over her head as far as 'twould go. Even in the dark, her pale hair would stand out. Once she was certain that all was clear, she ran as quickly as her legs could carry them to the gate in the curtain wall.
Jillian grabbed the key from her mouth, slid into the lock and turned it. The gate opened. She stepped through and locked it back. Then raced to the stand of trees, where she'd asked Roderick to leave a horse. She prayed he'd been able to elude Gordon and his men long enough to get her one. Rain poured down upon them, and Jillian hoped 'twould keep the guards away from their rounds a bit longer.
A saddled horse—her own mare, Bonnie—waited beneath an ancient oak tree, with two thick, wool cloaks folded across her back. "Much thanks, Roderick," she whispered beneath her breath. After lifting Ian onto the horse, Jillian wrapped one of the wool cloaks around him, over top of the blanket she'd taken from his bed. The other, she fastened over her own. Then secured her pack to the saddle. Until they were well away from Lochstorm, she intended to lead the mare. Whilst she walked, Jillian rubbed Bonnie's nose and gently whispered close to her ear to keep her from whinnying.
By the time they'd passed through the thick wood and reached the road, the rain was coming down harder than ever, and the air had grown much colder. She looked up at the sky. The slightest hint of pink painted the dark horizon. It would be light soon. Then they'd be able to travel faster. Jillian halted the mare and crawled up behind Ian. She pulled him back against her, enclosing him inside her cloak. She hoped the heat from her own body might help him stay warm enough to keep him from catching a chill.
"Jilly, I'm sleepy," he said, yawning.
"Lean against me and close your eyes. I'll wake you once we stop."
After a few minutes she listened to his steady breathing as his small body slowly relaxed against her chest. She gently placed a kiss on top of his head. He meant so much to her, and Jillian intended to protect him no matter the cost.
Ravenskull was at least a good day's ride from Lochstorm—if she'd been traveling alone. With a small child in tow, 'twould most likely take a few hours more.
Sometime near daylight, the rain finally stopped falling. They'd soon rest and break their fast, as well as give Bonnie some time to graze. As the gilded light of morn spread across the green hills and glens of the Highlands, she found a small clearing where they could eat, tucked inside the wood away from the sight of any who might be following.
"Ian," she said gently. "Wake up."
He looked up at her sleepily and blinked. "I'm hungry."
She smiled. "I'd be worried if you weren't." She slid from the horse and helped him down. "Come, let's see what we have to eat." Jillian sat down on a moss-covered log and placed the bundle of food in her lap.
Ian waited patiently beside her until she spread open the cloth. His eyes lit up when he spied the strawberry tarts. "I want one of those, Jilly."
She smiled and handed him one. "Winnie sent them especially for you."
He nodded. "That's because she kens how much I like them." His mouth and chin were quickly smeared with strawberries.
She took a bite of the bread and chewed as she watched the horse pick the short grass covering the clearing. The mare suddenly stopped and lifted her head. Her ears twitched back and forth as she listened.
An icy chill raced up her spine. She jumped up from the log, spilling the remaining food onto the ground. Putting her finger to her lips, she motioned for Ian to stay quiet as she quickly put him on the horse and mounted behind him. They left the clearing in a dead run and didn't slow down until Jillian felt certain they weren't being followed.
"
Did I frighten you a wee bit, Ian?"
"Aye, more than a wee bit. What did you see, Jilly?"
"I saw naught, but the way the mare acted told me something was there, another horse perchance. If so, then there would be a rider as well. I didn't wish to take any chances. I'm very sorry about the food, sweeting."
"'Tis all right. We can eat at Ravenskull Castle. Jilly, do you ken why 'tis called Ravenskull?"
"Nay, I don't, but perhaps you can ask that question of Laird MacLachlan once we arrive there."
The mountains grew steeper and more craggy as they neared MacLachlan land. At several points, the path between the rocks became so narrow, Jillian could've held her arms out on either side of the horse and touched the green moss growing there.
"Is it much further? I'm getting tired of riding."
"We should be there before nightfall, mayhap sooner."
"Jilly, will you sing me a song?"
She chuckled. "I'll hum you a song. We don't need to draw any more attention to ourselves than is necessary."
After the rain, the droplets of water covering the leaves and grass glimmered like jewels beneath the bright rays of sunlight. Jillian quietly hummed as they rode nearer and nearer to Ravenskull.
A sudden movement to their right caught her attention. But before she had time to react, a rider wielding a club burst from the underbrush. He must have been the one at the clearing and had followed them along the edge of the wood. Jillian's frightened horse lunged sideways, almost toppling them both to the ground.
"Hold onto the saddle, Ian," she screamed. With one hand she tried to control the mare, and with the other, grabbed her sgian dubh.
The highwayman swung the club and pain exploded across the back of Jillian's head. For a moment, she couldn't see, as darkness threatened to take her down into its depths. By sheer determination she fought off the feeling. She had to hang on for Ian's sake. If she died, the thief would make certain he was also dead. He'd leave no witnesses. The man tried to grab the reins from her hand. 'Twas the mare he was after. Jillian plunged the blade of her sgian dubh deep into his arm, and quickly drew it out.
He screamed, blood staining his shirt. "I'll kill ye for that," he yelled, taking another swing at her with the club.
She bent down sideways to dodge the blow, and the plaid slid up her thigh. Jillian quickly pulled it down, but 'twas too late.
He grinned, and his demeanor immediately changed. "Och, a bonnie lass. 'Tis a fine prize I've found m'self." The outlaw moved his horse closer. Then grabbed Jillian by the thigh, digging his fingernails into her soft flesh to keep her still.
"Leave my sister be," screamed Ian, hitting the man's hand several times with his tiny fist.
Jillian managed to pry away his fingers and kicked him hard in the ribs with the heel of her boot, knocking him off balance. He tumbled to the ground beneath his horse, which quickly raced off in the opposite direction. Jillian took that opportunity to knee her own horse into a run. She heard a string of curses being shouted after her as they rode away. She didn't look back. Somewhere during the attack, she'd lost her bundle of clothing—and her mother's locket. But they had at least gotten away with their lives.
"Did he hurt you, Jilly, when he hit you with that club?"
"I'll be fine," she said, not wishing to worry him, but truth be known, her head ached something awful. Jillian's vision was a wee bit blurry. She squinted, as she tried to focus on the road ahead. She blinked back tears, praying she could at least hold on 'til they reached Ravenskull—for Ian.
***
Several hours had passed since their encounter with the highwayman, and Jillian's head throbbed more and more with each stride of the horse. She reached up under the hat, finding a lump the size of a hen's egg. Her hair was matted with blood, both dried and fresh, that slowly trickled down the back of her neck. She was thankful that Ian couldn't see the blood from where he sat. Lightheaded, Jillian was glad they didn't have much further to go.
"Is that Ravenskull, Jilly?" Ian asked, excitement apparent in his voice.
"Aye, 'tis." The massive castle of black stone loomed before them in the distance. It stood in dark contrast to the pale blue sky, and immense beauty of purple heather and yellow gorse covering the hills surrounding it. The knot that'd been in Jillian's stomach all day tightened at the realization that soon she'd come face to face with Kade. "You're to behave yourself and not give Laird MacLachlan any trouble."
"I'll be very good. Is the laird a nice man?"
"Aye, he was very nice when I last set eyes on him, and I'm quite certain that he still is. But it's been some time since we've spoken," she said, tamping down old emotions as the memory of his handsome smile came to the surface.
"I'm so very hungry, Jilly. My stomach is growling and so is yours. I can hear it."
She hugged him tight against her. Jillian was sorry that Ian was so hungry. He'd eaten naught but the tart since the night before. "The very first thing I'll do once we reach Ravenskull is to ask for enough food to fill your belly, but I'm not certain if any place has that much food," she teased him. "Can you wait a bit longer?"
He smiled up at her and nodded.
As they drew nearer the castle, her dizziness worsened. Clenching her teeth, she held on tight to the reins and fought off the feeling. Jillian didn't dare give in to it now. She had to get Ian safely inside Ravenskull.
When they reached the gatehouse, they were stopped by two guards. "What be ye business here, lad?" asked the younger man with flaming red hair and a multitude of freckles.
Jillian drew herself up as tall as possible. "We've an important message for Laird MacLachlan."
The older man rubbed his graying beard. "What sort of message would a young lad like ye'self and that wee one there have for the laird?" Both the guards chuckled, but kept a wary eye on her.
Jillian reached up and removed the hat, grimacing, as it—along with several strands of her hair—tore away from the dried blood. Raking her fingers through what hair was not matted together, she said, "I'm Lady Jillian MacRae, daughter of the recently deceased Laird Angus MacRae of Lochstorm. The lad here is my brother, Ian MacRae, who became the Laird of Lochstorm upon our father's death. 'Tis urgent I see your laird as soon as possible."
The guards stared at her as if she'd sprouted horns. Without taking his gaze away from her, the older man said, "Get Logan," and the other man immediately disappeared inside the castle.
Jillian knew of Logan, but he'd not ken her by sight. When her family had sought hospitality at Ravenskull during the snowstorm, he'd been away from the castle. She'd heard he was a good man. Her father had spoken very highly of him on several occasions. She prayed he'd permit them entrance. Jillian was tired and hungry, and the back of her head now constantly throbbed. The dizziness was almost unbearable. Jillian didn't ken how much longer she could keep herself upright on the mare. She held on tightly, digging her fingernails into the saddle.
Ian turned his face up to hers. "What if they'll not let us inside, Jilly? Does that mean we have to go back to Lochstorm? We don't have any food, and I'm really, really hungry. I can smell bread."
Jillian's own stomach growled as she inhaled the wonderful aroma. "Don't fash yourself, wee one. I ken you're hungry. We'll be inside before you ken it."
The young man reappeared with a middle aged man beside him that Jillian assumed to be Logan, and with a female servant in tow. The man studied Jillian a moment before speaking. He motioned to the servant. "This woman attended Laird MacRae's wife for many years. If you're who you say you are, she'll ken." He turned to the servant. "Step closer and take a good look at the lass."
As she approached, Jillian immediately recognized her. She'd been her mother's favorite lady's maid. Her father had sent her away soon after her mother's death. Jillian smiled down at her, fighting the lightheadedness. "Glennis, 'tis good to see you."
Tears welled up in Glennis' eyes as she smiled up at Jillian. "Child, it's been a long while since I saw ye las
t, but I can see yer mother's beautiful face in yer own." She turned to Ian, studying him closely. "The lad is the spitting image of his father," she said softly and turned to Logan. "'Tis true. She's who she says she is." Glennis stepped closer to the horse and frowned. "Good heavens, m'lady, yer bleeding. Let's get ye're inside."
"Give me the lad," someone said from far, far away. Jillian didn't ken what happened next, for darkness overtook her and she sank deeper and deeper into its depths.
Chapter Five
In the great hall of Lochstorm castle, peat crackled and smoked in the massive fireplace positioned along one end of the room. Gordon MacRae sat staring into the flames stroking his beard. He still couldn't believe that his dream of holding the title of Baron of Lochstorm was almost within his grasp. Then everyone would call him laird or they'd be sorely dealt with. He'd have to be patient, aye, but time was on his side. Only the lad stood in his way, but not for much longer; he'd make absolutely certain of that.
As for the woman… He smiled to himself. He had much use for her. His breathing grew ragged at the memory of her lush lips beneath his. He'd been a fool for not taking her when he had the chance. 'Twas with just that intention he'd gone to her bedchamber. Instead, he'd let her soft words and shy eyes talk him out of doing so. No need to fash himself over it. She'd be beneath him soon enough. Then he'd have his fill of her. Gordon planned to keep her until she bore him an heir. After that, who knew? Just as his first wife, Ellie, had come with a large dowry, so did Jillian. He'd made a point of finding that out.
After but a month of marriage, Ellie's body, along with that of her young maid, had been found in the loch, beaten and battered. They'd been seized upon by a band of highwaymen—or so they thought. He smiled. Gordon had received everything, including her precious jewels she'd refused to hand over to him. No woman had ever stood in the way of his getting what he wanted—and never would.
All appeared to be going as planned. He should be feeling as satisfied as a mouser with a stable full of mice, but something had been gnawing at the back of his mind all day. But he couldn't quite put his finger on it.
