by Tarah Scott
They rode for what seemed several hours. Like soft whispers, voices grew closer in the distance. As they rode towards the commotion, Keira had little hope the men they were approaching would help her.
Her assailant led the cart to the middle of a campsite filled with men. Keira sat up and looked at the faces staring back at her. She recognized neither the men nor the plaid they wore.
Dressed in armor, they were prepared for battle. Keira took inventory of their weaponry. There were stack of quivers full with arrows, firearms with long barrels, and swords and shields stacked as high as their knees. There were at least forty warriors and they were well prepared to take on an entire regiment.
“Lady Sinclair, or should I call ye Lady MacKay?” a tall, black-haired man said as he walked up to the cart.
“Who are ye and why have ye taken me?”
“Allow me to introduce myself and my men. My name is Laird Thomas Chisholm, these are my men and ye were my intended bride until that bastard MacKay decided to steal ye fer himself.”
“Laird Chisholm? But I saw ye in Inverness. Ye were tried and heading to the gallows.”
“Aye, well, deception is only one of my many talents. The man ye thought was me was one of my many soldiers willing to die fer my cause. There are several men, if dressed up, that can be made to look like me. Apparently, I have been told I have a common face. But I can assure ye Lass, I am no’ dead, nor common.”
Not yet, she thought as she lowered her eyes to him.
“I am married to Laird Ian MacKay. He will come fer me. He will hunt ye down. And when he finds me, ye can be certain that he will no’ spare yer life,” she warned.
“It matters not. Ye are mine Keira. There’s no point in fighting me and denying that fact. As for yer husband, I have little worry he will come. I should have killed him when I had the chance; an oversight on my part. He did, however, do me a great service. Now that all of Scotland thinks I’m dead I can continue my purpose.”
“And what purpose is that?” she said with hatred seething from her lips.
“The same as yer father. Kill the king,” he replied, his face devoid of emotion.
“Dinna ye dare talk about my father! He was a great mon!”
“Believe what ye will Keira. But yer father’s soul is as black as mine. I know why yer husband and King James’s men have been searching fer me. They wish to obtain this,” he said as he pulled out a folded piece of paper from his pocket. “This letter is what James wants. This is what he has been searching fer; the detailed list of names of every Scot who signed their allegiance to the English Crown. This letter is worth more to him than his throne,” Thomas revealed.
Slowly, he walked over to the fire pit and held the letter above the flames. The corner of the letter started to smoke as it caught fire. Keira watched as flames sparked and the paper crumbled into ash.
“As for yer father, I made a promise to him before he was taken. That I would protect his daughter, even if I had to protect her from herself. I stand by my end of the bargain.”
“And what did my father get from ye? To die wit’ out honor at the end of the noose? Ye will ne’er get away wit’ this!”
Chisholm laughed wickedly as if he suffered from hysteria. The cold look in his eyes did not once waver at her threat. The rider dismounted and came to stand at the man’s side. As he lowered his cloak, Keira gasped in disbelief. His familiar eyes regarded her but remained unmoved by her reaction. She felt faint. Her throat tightened as she struggled to breathe and her heart pounded faster in her chest.
Swallowing hard, she whispered in a strained voice, “Father?”
Keira’s knees gave way, and she collapsed to the ground.
~*~
Ian, Rylan and Leland, followed by a dozen of their warriors, set out northward following the tracks the cart had left behind. After struggling with a forgetful barmaid for almost an hour to get a proper description of the man who took Keira, the maid led them out back where Ian found a set of prints left in the mud by a horse-drawn carriage.
For hours they rode down a well-beaten path losing hope that they were on the right track. But Ian would not give up. He would search every home in the Highlands if he had to.
Driven by anger and fear, flashbacks of his village burned in Ian’s mind. The smell of burning wood and hay from the cottages and cries of the villagers as they mourned their loss still haunted him. When he returned from battle, never could he have imagined the carnage he saw in the village. As he rode into the settlement, he raced towards his home. There, he found his dear young wife Sarah lying on the bloody ground.
He recalled dropping to her side and cradling her in his arms as he wept. Leaving her unprotected in the village was a foolish mistake. She should have stayed with his family in the castle but she fought hard with Ian to stay close to her family. Believing his clan would be safe, he foolishly gave in to her request.
If Laird Sutherland took Keira away as he had taken Sarah there would be no place safe for him. Ian would hunt him down until his dying day.
There was a dark side to Ian, a beast within, that when provoked and angered no man could rein him in and stop him.
Ian had to bury his emotions deep inside his core. If he allowed his fear and anger to control him, he would lose not only his focus but all sense of himself. He would go mad with revenge. A man driven by anger was like a loose cannon. And if he wanted to save Keira, he could not continue being hell-bent on vengeance. He had to think like a warrior and not a love-sick fool.
“Ian,” Leland called out. “We must stop. We cannae see their trail in the darkness. We will pick up again in the morning.”
Curse the sun!
“Set up camp and put men on guard. I will take first watch,” Ian commanded.
“Ye should rest,” Leland suggested. “Ye will be no’ good to her if ye are weak and tired. I will send men ahead to continue the search.”
“I will join them,” Rylan offered.
Ian stared in awe at the way his brother took command. Leland, a lad less than two years younger than he, had always been a free spirit and considered too reckless for Ian’s high standards of discipline and duty. Ian had no idea how, but he knew his sudden change in disposition was because of Keira. It was more than just Leland’s sense of honor to protect his Laird’s wife, but that he actually cared for her. Keira had managed to charm many of his clansmen and every single one of them would risk their lives to protect her. Never had Ian felt so proud of his clansmen until this very moment.
Ian went to lay near the fire. Rolling on his back, he looked to the stars and sent up a silent prayer for her safe return.
“I’m coming fer ye lass. Ye just have to hold on a wee bit longer,” he whispered.
~*~
Keira awoke to the sound of men’s chatter from outside the tent. It was pitch black outside and the only light she had was from the fire burning brightly outside her shelter. Scurrying to her feet, it took a moment before it dawned on her that she was no longer bound. Rubbing her wrists where the skin tore from the tight restraint, she wondered why they released her. Were they foolish enough to believe she would not run?
At the sight of her father and Laird Chisholm, both alive and well, she felt that either she was dead or was having delusions. The last she had seen her father he was shackled, chained, and being escorted to the gallows. How did he escape? It didn’t make sense. Nothing made any sense in this extravagant spectacle her father was involved in. She couldn’t help but feel heartbroken as she was made out to be the fool.
For several minutes she watched and waited as shadows moved along the tent wall. When the noise of shuffling feet silenced, Keira slipped out of the tent but was greeted instantly by Laird Chisholm who stood guarding her exit.
“Ye are awake,” he said.
“Where is my father? I wish to speak to him.”
“In a moment. It is my desire to speak to ye first.”
“I have no desire to hear anything
ye have to say!”
“Even if it has to do wit’ yer husband?”
His question caught her off guard. What did he know of her husband? She turned to look at him waiting for him to continue this ridiculous game he was playing.
“I am a powerful mon Keira. And I am a mon who gets what he wants. If ye submit to me, I will see to it that Varrich Castle is restored to Clan MacKay and that they will no’ have trouble wit’ Laird Sutherland. That is what ye wanted after all, was it not?”
“How do ye know that?”
“Truth be told, that one of my men intercepted yer message to Laird Sutherland. He never received yer missive, my Lady, but received mine instead.”
“Ye bastard! What did ye do?”
“As we speak, yer husband is heading into a trap. That is, unless ye agree to submit to me.”
“And if I did?”
“Then I would keep my word and call off the attack. And yer husband shall live, I would imagine.”
Keira thought hard on the proposition he offered. Returning Ian to his rightful place was everything she wanted. He would finally be able to go home. But giving herself to Thomas Chisholm was not what she was willing to bargain for.
“I can be a compassionate mon, Keira.”
Keira saw little choice in the matter. If she had to give herself to Laird Chisholm to keep Ian safe, she would, and she’d not regret that decision.
“May I have yer word,” she asked, remaining steadfast in her decision.
“On my honor of my clan and of Scotland. Ye have my word.”
“Then I agree to yer terms.”
Laird Chisholm walked towards her so that he stood nearly a breath away. Keira clenched her fists against her sides and turned away from his foul stench.
“I want ye to prove yer alliance to me,” he said stroking the side of her face. “Kiss me. Kiss me as ye kiss yer husband.”
Tears burned Keira’s eyes. She tried to look away, but Thomas turned her head forcing her to face him.
“Do it,” he ordered, his voice deep and commanding.
This man brought fear unlike any man she had ever met and there was no stopping him. Keira let out a breath and hesitantly leaned towards him. She couldn’t get herself to do it. All she could think of was Ian.
Before she could refuse, Thomas pressed his lips against her. Sweeping his tongue across her lips, he forced her mouth open, and slipping his tongue inside. Keira tried to resist, but Thomas kept his hold firm.
His kiss did not taste as sweet as Ian’s nor was it gentle. Cupping her breast, he squeezed and fondled it with his hand. Chisholm’s men watched with sinister eyes and wicked smiles as he groped her body freely.
“Do no’ resist me! Ye will only make it worse fer yerself. If ye do what I say, I will no’ hurt ye.”
Keira choked on her tears. “I would rather rot than have yer hands touch me again!” she replied.
Chisholm smirked and pushed her backwards into the arms of one of his guards.
“Put her in the tent. I will deal wit’ her later,” he instructed.
The guard nodded and followed his order. Placing his large hand on her thin waist, the guard picked her up and carried her off inside the large canopy tent. Once inside, he tossed her on the pallet, leaving her alone. Curling herself into a ball, she wept.
Ian. His name resonated in her mind. She prayed for his safety and hoped he would find her before it was too late.
~*~
Thomas stepped inside the marquee where his highest guards were stationed. The round pavilion had high walls and space to accommodate fifty of his soldiers. Leaning back on his chair, he listened as they discussed their advance toward Linlithgow, where James had returned. He watched as Magnus Sinclair instructed his men the best route to travel through the lowlands. Thomas could see the worry in his eyes as the man held back his frustration and worry over his daughter. Though he was an ally, Magnus was no more to Thomas than a puppet. And once his services were no longer needed, Thomas would rid himself of both Magnus and his daughter.
His plan was working magnificently as all of his plans usually did. Second son to Laird Farrell Chisholm, Thomas was used to having to fight for what he wanted. Second in line, he was a shadow; often ignored by his father and his eldest brother Creighton, who reaped the benefits of Lairdship of their clan.
With an abundance of time on his hands, Thomas grew up studying politics, theology and law. In his younger years he thought to pursue a military position against their English enemies, but after the fall of his father’s regime, their clan suffered several casualties; left with nothing but a damaged castle and a broken spirit. Until he happened to run across another man bent on revenge against James, Archibald Douglas; the king’s step-father. James banished him from Scotland and the man was just as eager for vengeance as Thomas was.
With no great position, there was little Thomas could do, which led him to killing his own brother and securing his place as Laird. After that, the pieces fell into place. Thomas was stronger than his brother and much more intelligent. He managed to unite his clan with several others. With Thomas and Archibald Douglas feeding each other information, both of their power and influence grew stronger.
With Thomas’s alliance with Douglas, he was promised titles and land in England as well as a proper position within the king’s army, which would grant him nobility. The reward could not be sweeter if the King of England himself wrapped it up in a bright red bow.
James was young, inexperienced and easily influenced by his councilmen. He was not fit to be king.
Chapter 28
“Ian!” Leland hollered. “The men have returned.”
Ian pushed himself off the ground and stood up. He could see the men Leland had sent to scout riding toward them.
“My Laird, we spotted Sutherlands no’ too far from here. But we did no’ see any sign of Lady MacKay,” Rylan informed him.
“How many?” Ian asked.
“At least twenty men.”
Leland turned to Ian and asked, “What are ye thinking?”
Ian looked out over the horizon and pondered his next move. Like any game of war, Ian knew that he must first plan out his strategy in order to find Keira; much like in a game of chess. Most warriors well-trained in battle moved their men into position and then struck. But if the warrior expected to win, he must predict his opponent’s movements first. Any man can run out onto the battlefield waving his sword around, hoping to hit its target, but a smart man waited to make each strike count.
Ian waged that if Laird Sutherland took Keira, he would not want her in harm’s way. He would want to keep her safe and away from his battalion. She would do him no good if she were dead. Therefore, chasing after his men would only put a greater distance between him and Keira and very well could result in unnecessary loss of life. If his men were directly north and the sea was directly to the east of their position his only option was to head west.
“We head west!”
“But what of the Sutherlands?” Rylan asked. “Ye surely dinna intend to just leave them?”
“Lady Keira is my only concern. Perhaps we should leave a few men behind. If they believe we were too busy fighting off their men, we can surprise them when they least expect it.”
“I will stay wit’ a few of the men. We are no’ too far from Fraser land. We will find refuge there,” Rylan suggested.
“Take care, my friend. God speed,” Ian said holding his arm out to Rylan.
Rylan took his hand in his.
“I will. Dinna worry about the Sutherlands. I will have them chasing their own tails by nightfall. It is my plan to head south in the morning. I will send word once I petition the Duke of Annandale for my pardon. Once it is granted, I will be a free mon and will be able to return home once again in the Highlands.”
Rylan and four others mounted their horses and headed north. As for Ian, Leland and the remaining warriors, they headed into the westward winds.
After nearly an
hour of riding, Ian spotted the same wheel tracks they had seen and followed yesterday. His hope was renewed the moment he saw them. The tracks were still fresh and he knew that it would be only a matter of time before he came upon their camp. The more westward they traveled the thick density of trees faded to patches of woodland, dwarf shrubs and open pastures.
Crossing the expanse of the terrain they entered the foothills of the stony mountains of Beinn Dearg. With its summit a steep incline and reaching more than three thousand feet in the air, no horse or cart could travel up the mountain side. Its only safe passage was by passing through the glen between the valleys of mountains.
As they continue upward, the air thinned, causing the men to breathe heavily. Strong winds blew fiercely as if a storm was approaching from the north.
Leading his men into unprotected, open terrain never sat well with Ian, but Keira’s safety weighed heavy on his mind. The longer she sat in the hands of his enemy, the more danger she was in, leaving Ian no choice but to continue onwards.
~*~
Night turned into day slower than usual. Perhaps it was because sleep eluded her or perhaps it was because time itself had unnaturally slowed. Keira laid on the pallet, her eyes dry from crying. Staring into nothingness she waited for an audience with her father.
His disloyal deceit burrowed a hole so deep in her soul that she felt he might as well stab her in the heart with his own dagger. At least then she would have the dignity to look into his eyes before he betrayed her instead of him cowering behind the façade he created.
It had been nearly two days and there was no sign of Ian. Her faith weakened with each passing moment, her hope in shreds. She had no idea why she held onto hope at all. Thomas assured her that Ian would be facing the Sutherlands in a surprise attack which he’d orchestrated himself, and she had no doubt he meant every word that he said. She knew Laird Chisholm to be an influential man. How else would he have been able to convince so many Scots to go against their king?
