by Tarah Scott
His gaze was daunting. Standing with him alone in the woods, Keira felt unnerved as the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Her face felt flushed, her hands, cold and clammy, and her breathing quickened as if he had conjured a spell over her senses. Around him, she felt a sort of dizzy sensation as if the air had thickened, making it hard to breath. What was this tension that filled the air? Why was his gaze like a spear, penetrating her very being, right to the core?
She called him the Beast but not for his size or his stature. It was because he was as lethal and dangerous as a fire-breathing dragon. Stand too close and one could easily get burned by his flames. Even the look in his eyes had a way of putting one into submission. She imagined that he was used to getting what he wanted, she only wished to know what it was he wanted from her.
As Keira was about to look away, a blinding shimmer of light caught her attention. Around his neck he wore a golden medallion. The image pressed on the face of the circular medallion was of the Scottish crown with two swords crisscrossed behind it. It was a Scottish crest but none like she had ever seen. It must be of great importance if it represented the Scottish crown, but what? Perhaps it meant nothing. He could have just as easily stolen it, like everything he had stowed away in his satchels. The greed of men! Preying on the weak! Pillaging villages and kidnapping helpless women. Keira turned away from him.
“Lass, we’ve stalled long enough. We need to go.”
“Please let me go. I mean nothing to ye. I am nobody.”
“Lady Chisholm…”
He started, and Keira burst out, “I am no’ Lady Chisholm!”
At least not yet! Laird Chisholm had only accepted her hand in marriage, but in truth, she wanted nothing to do with the marriage or the man and she would hold onto that information for as long as possible.
She was no more than a peasant with a good name. The union between her and Laird Chisholm was all her father needed to ensure their clan’s survival. Without Chisholm’s offering, they would have been left with nothing. But what would this man know? He was just an outlaw! He was probably hoping for some large ransom, but he would be sorely disappointed to find out that he’d kidnapped the dowerless daughter of an impoverished laird.
“If ye are no’ a Chisholm lass, then who are ye and why were ye traveling on his ally’s land in Chisholm’s own carriage?”
Keira hesitated for a moment, debating whether she should tell him the truth. But what was the harm in telling him that he’d kidnapped the wrong prize?
“I am Lady Keira Sinclair, the eldest daughter of Laird Magnus Sinclair. And if ye do no’ release me I promise ye that all hell and fury will rain down upon ye. The wrath of my father is fierce and he does no’ show mercy to…to rotten bastards like ye.”
“Sinclair?” his brow rose as he questioned. “Why would a Sinclair lass be traveling through to Chisholm lands?”
“I was no’ traveling through Chisholm lands. I was traveling to Chisholm land.”
“Why?”
“I dinna see how that is any of yer business!”
“Tis, because I just made it my business. Do no’ make me ask ye again!” he warned.
“I was to meet Laird Chisholm this afternoon.”
“Why?”
Keira bit her lower lip, almost ashamed of the reason.
“Because…today is my wedding day. Was my wedding day,” she corrected herself. “I am to marry Laird Chisholm; that is why ye must release me! If word gets to him that ye have stolen his bride I’m sure he will send his forces after ye and yer men!”
Ian’s expression went from curiosity to anger. His eyes darkened and brow furrowed. He said nothing in response, and his eyes squinted as he looked into the distance. Tension filled the air like a storm was brewing. The silence was deafening and her nerves began to crawl. What was it that she said to cause his change in demeanor? Did it matter that she was getting married? People got married all the time.
“If ye were heading to marry Laird Thomas Chisholm, then ye should be thanking me.”
“Thanking ye? For what? Ye attacked my carriage, relieved me of my escort, and now are holding me against my will. Where in this situation do ye think I owe ye any sort of thanks?”
“For saving ye!”
“Saving me? From whom?”
“Laird Chisholm!”
“The only saving I need is from ye!”
Ian snickered.
“Ye have no idea the type of mon he is, do ye?”
Keira ignored his question, yet couldn’t help but wonder what he meant. From what her father had told her, he was a good man. And somehow believing that Ian was some kind of knight in shining armor was about as believable as she being the Queen of Scotland!
“Ye told me earlier that if I told ye who I was and why I was crossing into Chisholm land ye would release me. Will ye keep yer word?”
Ian walked back and forth for a moment before stopping in his tracks.
“I can no’ allow ye to continue on yer course. But ye have my word that no’ harm will come to ye.”
The lying whoreson!
“Ye tricked me! Ye never had any intention of letting me go, did ye?”
“Aye, I did and I still do, but first I need to speak to my men,” he said as he grabbed her upper arm.
“Where will ye be taking me? Is Laird Chisholm in some kind of trouble? I demand to know! I have a right!”
He stopped and turned to look at her.
“Aye ye do, but I dinna believe I need to tell ye of such things, at least no’ yet!”
“Ye bloody barbarian!”
Anger flared in his eyes.
“Forgive my lack of patience lass, but ye are becoming a pain in my arse! Now let me help ye back on the horse.”
“Fine! But keep yer hands off me and keep yer distance. Tis nothing like riding wit’ a mon who smells of wet dog.”
“Damn it woman, ye try my patience.”
“Yer use of blasphemies and profane language has no’ fallen on deaf ears. Therefore, tis no’ just yer manner that offends me but yer speech, as well…ye know, for a Scot and a warrior ye have absolutely no redeeming qualities. That either makes ye daft or no’ any different than the bloody English!” she responded, proud of her clever reply.
The warrior muttered a curse, picked her up and plopped her down on the horse. He grumbled but ignored her insult. Keira smugly smiled, realizing that she’d gotten a rise out of him. It would let him know that she was not going to follow his orders without at least putting up some resistance.
The warrior mounted behind her, wrapping his arm around her waist, and pulling her close against him. Before she could protest, he snapped the reins, making the horse bolt before taking off at a hard run.
Chapter 5
The lass’s revelation baffled Ian beyond belief. How had Clan Sinclair allied with the Chisholm without his hearing about it? Magnus Sinclair certainly wasn’t a person of interest, at least not one he was made aware of. Ian had always suspected Chisholm of treason, but was the Sinclair Chief a co-conspirator? The idea did not sit well with Ian. What was more disturbing was that he did not know what role the lass played in all of this. Was she, too, a traitor? Did she know of Chisholm’s plot against king and country?
Ian urged the horse faster. He needed to speak to his men and tell him what he had learned. He would then have to decide whether to continue on his course to hunt Chisholm down or to return to Linlithgow Castle to speak to his Sire about the new developments. His other matter of business, of course, was what he was going to do now about the lass. Caught in the middle of a civil war, he certainly could not allow the lass to continue on to Erchless nor could he allow her to return home. He needed to question her further. To find out what she knew and if she could be trusted.
In less than an hour, they arrived at the well-hidden campsite near the entrance of a rocky cave. Ian dismounted, and then helped Keira down from the saddle. She remained quiet and docile.
�
��What the bloody hell took ye so long?” Rylan asked.
Ian shook his head.
“Leland, tend to the lass. I need to speak wit’ Rylan,” Ian called out.
Leland walked toward them, but the lass ignored his offer of help, and went to sit down atop a large boulder. Satisfied she wasn’t going anywhere; Ian walked toward a stand of trees nearby, and nodded his head to Rylan, signifying for him to follow.
Once they were among the nearby trees, far from earshot of the others, Rylan asked, “What is it?”
“I was wrong about the lass. She is no’ a Chisholm woman. She be a Sinclair.”
“Sinclair?”
“Aye. She was on her way to Erchless when we intercepted the carriage. She was to marry Thomas on this very day.”
Rylan raked his fingers through his hair.
“Why the bloody hell would her father agree to such a marriage? All the chiefs in the Highlands have been warned against making alliances with known traitors.”
“I suspect ‘tis because he too is a traitor.”
“What about the lass? Did she say anything?”
“Nay, and I dinna ask her. No’ yet anyway.”
“We must get word to James.”
“Aye! I think we just found one of the key players in the rebellion.”
“What are ye thinking?” Rylan asked.
“I shall leave for Linlithgow immediately. Now that we know where Chisholm’s hideout is, we should leave a few men behind to scout and track their movements.”
“What of the lass?”
“I‘ll take her wit’ me.”
“And what are ye going to do if ye find out that she is a part of this?” Rylan asked.
“Let us just hope she isna!”
~*~
Sitting on the rock, Keira watched as the men erected their tents and tended to the fire. Her stomach growled as she thought of the feast she would have been enjoying at this hour had she made her way to Erchless. Now she was forced not only to starve, but apparently to sleep exposed to the night’s cool air.
Surveying her surroundings, reminded her that she had no idea where she was. Nothing seemed familiar. Even surrounded with the group of men, she felt alone. A sliver of anger entered her heart as she thought about her predicament. Had it not been for her betrothed, she would never have been in this situation in the first place. He was supposed to have arrived at Inverness. It was he who was supposed to have escorted her to Erchless, and it was him these men apparently wanted, not her. Had Laird Thomas Chisholm been there now she’d…spit on him!
Keira no longer cared about the ridiculous contract her father had signed. There had to be another way to raise the money to pay the taxes. She would gladly work out in the fields herself if it helped. She would even sell her tapestries or her fine linens if she thought she could get a good price for them.
Looking out in the distance, she watched a herd of deer prance through the tall grass. Their freedom saddened her. Not because of her captivity, but because even if she were to escape and return home, her father would just find her another suitor. And she was sure that next time, she would not be given a choice. It felt as if her world was crumbling down around her like a stack of bricks and there was nothing she could do to stop it. She had never felt more alone than she felt at that very moment.
Keira released a deep breath and turned her attention back to her captors. So far, she knew three of their names: Ian, Leland and Rylan, but the other two still remained a mystery. Those two were quiet and kept to themselves. As for Ian, she knew that he was a man of authority, although he had not introduced himself with such a title as Laird or Chieftain. It was however, apparent that he was at least the leader of these men; the governor of outlaws.
As Ian and Rylan returned to the camp, Keira ignored them by fiddling with the hem of her gown, but kept an ear toward the men. Listening to their conversation, she overheard talk of their Laird and the details about their travel, including where they would go from here.
“Ian, what are we going to do?” Leland asked.
Ian glanced at Keira before answering.
“We must speak to Laird Gudeman. If what I think is true, we’ve got bigger problems. Tomorrow, ye, Rylan and I will take the lass and travel to Linlithgow. Daven, I need ye and Alec to stay and keep watch. Report any activity ye see.”
“Aye,” the two men nodded in agreement. Keira’s brow creased at the mention of their Laird’s name. She had never heard of any clan by the name of Gudeman nor was it a typical Scottish name. Perhaps these men were not Highlanders after all, perhaps they were Lowlanders. Of course their size suggested Norsemen as their height and girth were comparable to giants.
Keira hated not being included in their conversation. She had every right to know what was happening, but it was clear that these men were not going to tell her anything. They ignored her as if she did not even exist.
Keira plucked up the head of a dandelion sticking out of the ground near her feet and began taking it apart, one small petal at a time before tossing the stem onto the ground. She welcomed the distraction. Ian stared at her intensely as he and the men continued to talk about their journey thus far. From what Keira gathered, these were men for hire. Hired to hunt down those their Laird ordered them to, and Thomas Chisholm was on the top of their list.
Once their conversation was over, the red-headed man that Ian had called Daven stood and headed over to the horses while the others stayed seated around the fire. Keira’s stomach growled loud enough to break their silence.
“Are ye hungry lass? Daven is fetching ye something to eat,” Ian informed her.
“I will no’ take yer food,” she stubbornly replied.
No matter how hungry she felt, she would rather find her own food than share theirs. She thought she could probably go a few days without eating before she would starve to death.
“Suit yerself,” he said under his breath.
“Lassie has quite a wicked tongue on her, dinna she?” Leland spouted as the others snickered by his remark.
Keira lowered her eyelids and furrowed her brow at them, then returned her attention back to the Beast. His amused smile fueled her anger further. She didn’t know why she cared what they thought of her.
~*~
“Ian, we’ve been robbed!” Daven said, walking toward them, holding onto a small brown cloth bag.
“What are ye talking about?”
“Most of the meat is gone. I only found enough food here in this bag to last us the night.”
“How the bloody hell did that happen?” Rylan asked.
“I dinna know, but I saw footprints near the horses. It must have been taken when we were setting up the camp.”
“Then whoever took it must no’ have gone far. I am going after the thieving bastard!” Rylan said as he stood and made his way to his horse to grab his sword and dagger.
“Well, let’s get to cookin’ what we still do have. We will have to scare up some bird or rabbits in the morn’.” Ian suggested.
As Daven put the food on the spit, Ian glanced behind him at the lass. The forlorn look on her face made her appear vulnerable and defeated. Digging in the bag, he pulled out an apple, and stood. Walking away from his men, he went to stand near the lass. She refused the piece of fruit he held out.
Ian kneeled down in front of her.
“Lass, I know ye are hungry. Ye have no’ eaten fer hours now. Go on, take it.”
“I’m no’ hungry,” she whispered, facing away from him.
Ian huffed out a sharp breath, trying to be patient with the lass.
“Tis all the food we have. Ye should eat what we have to share.
Ian took a spot on the ground in front of her, hoping to gain her trust. He had to find out what she knew, and hoped that she would confide in him eventually.
“Lassie, I give ye my word that nothing will happen to ye. I am sorry that I can no’ let ye go, but tis fer yer own safety.”
“Safety! From what? Why d
o ye insist on keeping me captive wit’ out even giving me an explanation?”
“What do ye know about Laird Chisholm?”
“Nothing! I have never e’en met the mon.”
“So yer betrothal to him was arranged?”
“Aye.”
“Did yer father arrange it?”
“Aye. But what does my father have to do wit’ any of this?”
“Possibly more than ye think.”
“My father is a great mon!” she defended.
“I am no’ questioning yer father, only his motives. Did ye know he was marryin’ ye off to a traitor? Chisholm has allied wit’ the English to overrule the king. He is a verra dangerous man. ‘Tis why we are searching fer him.”
“My father is no traitor if that is what ye are suggesting!”
“For his sake, my lady, I hope ye are correct.”
If Ian was a betting man, he would guess that this wee lass knew more than she was letting on, but he decided that he had told her enough for now. Ian picked himself up. With the tip of his boot, he slightly tapped the apple that lay on the ground and watched it slowly roll next to Keira. He confidently stepped away knowing that if the lass was hungry enough, she would eat it. Only a foolish person would refuse to take it and he did not take the lass for a fool.
Chapter 6
“I caught the wee hellion who pilfered the meat,” Rylan said, roughly shaking a young lad by the collar of his dirt-stained shirt.
The young boy stood silent and wide-eyed. Ian studied him for a moment. The wee lad looked no more than seven or eight summers.
“I am thinking this whelp needs to feel the sting of my belt on his backside or perhaps I should cut off his hand fer stealing,” Rylan suggested.
Ian watched as the blood drained from the lad’s face at the mere mention of punishment. Ian held back his smile for he knew all too well that Rylan would never cut off the lad’s hand. However, a few lashes might teach the lad a lesson.
“What is yer name?” Ian asked.
“Robbie,” the lad replied in a soft whimper.
