As the days and nights flew by, the boys never once complained of hunger or need of sleep. The sacrifices were necessary in order to free their mum and brother from the bonds of a mad man. Too much was at stake to complain.
As the horses began to slow and the boys began to fall asleep in their saddles, Findley decided they needed to stop. They found refuge at the home of a farmer who allowed them the use of his barn. They slept but a few hours and set out before dawn.
The farmer had informed them they were but a day’s ride from Aberdeen. If they pushed, they could reach it before nightfall.
So they pushed. Through forests and over hills, across streams and around lochs, they pushed onward.
Hours later, and still many miles from Aberdeen, they spilled out of a dense forest onto the edge of a vale. Findley pulled his horse to a quick halt. The sight before him nearly caused his heart to seize.
~~~
How many days had she been locked in this room? Maggy had no way of knowing. There were no windows; no way for her to tell how much time had passed.
Occasionally, Malcolm would enter the room and offer another less- than-heart-felt proposal. And each time she would decline it and beg to see her son. Malcolm was relentless, just as she remembered him to be and each time he would deny her, her one request.
Her room consisted of a small bed, a chair and a chamber pot. She paced around the room for hours at a time, thinking, trying to figure a way out of this mess.
And she prayed. She prayed for Liam and Collin, Duncan and Aishlinn and their unborn babe, to all arrive safely to Gregor. She prayed for Robert and Andrew, that they’d either get lost and end up far away from here, or that no one other than Findley and his men would find them and take them to safety.
Findley. Her heart ached whenever her thoughts turned to him. He’ll come for me and Ian. Please Father, let him be safe. She needed to remain strong for Findley, for her boys. She knew she could not succumb to the fear that jolted through her body every time the latch on the door moved.
No matter what torture Malcolm might put her through, she’d not agree to marry him. He could keep her locked in this room forever and her answer would remain the same.
“You’ll no’ see yer son again, or any of yer sons fer that matter, until ye say yes,” he said, standing in the doorway again. She hadn’t heard the latch lift for she was lost in her thoughts of Findley and her sons.
She guessed it was night-time only for the fact that the torches were lit in the hallway outside her room. Malcolm stood in silhouette against the yellow light of the torches. Maggy could barely see his face but he appeared to have not shaved today. Dark shadows fell on his cheeks leaving him with an eerie and sinister look about him.
Every muscle in her body ached and burned. He had not let her bathe, hadn’t let her eat more than a slice of bread and a small chunk of cheese when they remembered to bring her food. They kept her hungry as well as thirsty, offering her only a small cup of water with her meals.
“Where is Ian?” her voice was scratchy and dry from lack of water.
“Ian is fine, Maggy. He’s below stairs with his pup,” his voice was low and stern.
“Please, Malcolm, do no’ do this. Please,” she was not above begging. “Please let me see him!”
Malcolm remained standing in the doorway. “I like how ye beg, Maggy.” He sounded amused. “If ye were me wife, ye’d be beggin’ fer other things, I assure ye.”
Bile rose in her throat. Righting her shoulders, trying to appear as if she hadn’t heard him, she pressed further. “I demand to see me son.”
“Ye are in no position to demand anythin’,” he said as he took a step into the room. “Ye’ll no’ see him until ye agree to marry me.”
For a brief moment, she thought again of agreeing to marry him. Once she had the bastard alone she could kill him. More likely than not, however, she’d have to bed him before he let his guard down long enough for her to run a blade across his throat. It was funny, she thought, how running a blade across his throat and watching him bleed to death was far less reviling than bedding him.
“Nay,” she said firmly.
He was across the room and pressing her against the wall before she had a chance to blink. Grabbing her wrists, he pinned her to the wall and thrust a knee between her legs.
Fear shot through her veins and she knew she had pushed him too far.
Malcolm watched as her bosom rose and fell with each rapid breath she took. He felt the old Malcolm fighting for control with the new man he was trying to be. His old self would have stripped her bare, tossed her on the bed and taken what he wanted.
His new self, the one that struggled minute by minute to remain strong and somewhat kind, refused to succumb to his baser needs and wants. Nay, he wouldn’t take her, not yet. He’d give her more time to think it over. A few more days locked in here without any comforts would get her to come around. He’d take her then. With her spirit broken and no fight left in her, he would take her.
Maggy stared angrily into his eyes, refusing to look away or allow him to see her fear. Her green eyes flashed with fury, hatred, and disgust.
The next moment, his lips were upon hers. Hard and demanding he kissed her, forcing his tongue into her mouth. Pressing her wrists harder against the wall, he ran his tongue across her teeth and pressed his groin into her belly. When she felt his manhood grow with excitement, she nearly threw up in his mouth as she gagged and coughed.
He drew his head back a few inches and glared at her. She wanted to wash her mouth out and be rid of the taste he left behind.
“Gunnar!” he shouted without taking his eyes from Maggy’s.
Oh, God what is he going to do to me? A new fear flashed over her. She had pushed him over the edge of reason, she was sure of it. She was certain that he called for his man to come in and help hold her down while he had his way with her. If she had had any food in her belly she would have wretched on his feet.
A moment later a man appeared beside them. “Aye, m’laird?”
“Help me put her in the chains.”
~~~
Findley’s heart nearly leapt from his chest with joy. At least two hundred men and horses covered the field below Findley and his men. What a beautiful sight it was to see the MacDougall flags flapping and waving in the wind alongside those belonging to the McDunnah and McKee clans. It was perhaps the most glorious sight Findley had ever seen.
He and his men let out a war cry and raced down the small incline and into the centre of the camp. Relief, joyous, glorious relief swept over him and for a moment he felt like he could cry from it.
They dismounted quickly as men surrounded them. Rowan and Black Richard had made their way through the thick crowd of men. Findley was very glad to see them.
There was much backslapping and hand shaking taking place as Findley searched the crowd for Angus. In a matter of moments, the crowd parted like the Red Sea to allow Angus McKenna to emerge.
Chief Angus McKenna was taller than Findley by a few inches. Broad in the shoulders and chest he was also as strong as an ox. He was dressed in tunic and plaid this cold, rainy day. Soft leather boots hugged his substantial thighs. Long blonde braids framed both sides of his face.
“Yer a sight fer sore eyes, Angus!” Findley said with a broad smile.
Angus eyed him seriously for a moment. Just as Findley’s smile began to fade Angus wrapped him in a huge bear hug.
“I just hope the lass is worth it!” he said as he slapped him on his back.
When their embrace broke, Findley looked around at the sea of men.
“Angus, I only asked fer fifty men! It appears ye’ve brought far more than that!” He wasn’t complaining, he was grateful and happy to see so many men here to help.
“Well now,” a voice came from the crowd. “When we heard ye was goin’ up again the Buchannan, we couldna let ye have all the fun.”
Two very tall men stepped aside and Caelen McDunnah stepped forward.
“Malcolm Buchannan is a festerin’ boil on me arse,” Caelen said. He stood next to Angus, with his arms crossed over his chest, feet spread apart. Caelen McDunnah was a fierce looking man with long black hair and muddy brown eyes. A long scar ran from his forehead, down the left side of his face before disappearing somewhere on his chest.
Though he wasn’t one of Findley’s favourite allies, he was an ally nonetheless. No matter his reasons for being here, Findley was grateful.
“Caelen,” Findley said as he extended his arm. Caelen grasped Findley’s arm for a moment before righting himself.
“So Findley,” Caelen said as he looked at the crowd of men. “Is she as beautiful as we’ve heard?”
Laughter erupted from the crowd. Jealousy tried to rear its ugly head. Findley knew Caelen was merely trying to inflame him, it was one of the sick pleasures the man drew from life. Caelen liked to fight and where there typically would be no reason to come to blows, Caelen would sometimes find one just for the sake of starting a fight.
“Aye, she is Caelen,” Findley said as he rested his fingertips on his hips.
Wee William chimed in. “Beauty so fair it will take yer breath away,” he told them with a nod of his head. “I’d have shaved me beard fer that one.”
A stunned silence fell over the men. Those who knew Wee William knew he had sworn there wasn’t a woman in all of Scotland worth shaving his beard for. To hear him announce to everyone within earshot, that the woman they were all here to help was bonny enough to tempt Wee William into shaving, was quite a surprise. She must be one bonny woman.
Caelen nodded his head approvingly. “And I hear Malcolm Buchannan has killed her people and taken one of her wee ones?”
Findley chewed on the inside of his cheek. “Aye, ’tis true.”
“And I hear that Malcolm wishes to marry the bonny lass?”
Findley’s jaw clenched tightly with thinking of it. “Aye, that is true as well.”
A devilish smile came to Caelen’s face. “And are we to assume that ye’d like to make sure the nuptials dunna take place?”
“Aye,” Findley answered with a wry smile slowly coming to his lips. “That be our goal.”
Caelen lifted his head and searched the crowd. “And where be the bonny woman that tempts Wee William into shavin’?”
Findley crossed his arms over his chest. “She was taken several days ago. We believe Malcolm now has her.”
Caelen and Angus cast a glance at each other.
“Well then,” Angus said as he rubbed his hands together. “I reckon we should go rescue the lass.”
Angus put a hand on Findley’s shoulder and began to lead him toward a campfire. “Ye look like ye could use a drink, Findley,” he said as they walked side by side.
“Aye, Angus, I could.”
Moments later they sat around the fire while food and drink were brought to Findley, his men and the boys. The boys looked around in awe at all the warriors around them. All the men, horses and armour especially impressed Robert and he remained silent while he listened to the men talk.
While they ate venison and bread, another tall man appeared and stood before Findley.
“I see we have to save yer sorry arse again,” the man said bluntly. Robert and Andrew looked at each other. The man looked angry as he stood in front of Findley. Both boys rose to their feet, fully prepared to assist Findley should he need it. For the thousandth time in the past weeks, Robert wished he had a sword.
’Twas Nial McKee, chief of the Clan McKee, who stood before him. While not as tall as some of the other men, he was an imposing figure all the same. He wore his brown hair cut close to his scalp and he had penetrating grey blue eyes.
“Nial,” Findley said as he stood. Findley had known Nial for years. Nial had fostered with the MacDougall’s as a young boy.
“I’m growin’ weary of havin’ to pull yer arse from the flames. I’ve got much better things to do with me time.”
Findley sat his trencher of food on the ground at his feet, stood upright and shook his head at Nial.
Robert nudged Andrew and the two boys went to stand beside Findley. They crossed their arms over their chests and looked up at the man who was insulting Findley.
“How do yer dance lessons go?” Nial asked. His expression remained unchanged.
“How goes yer needlework?” Findley asked.
“Have ye lost yer virginity yet, or are ye still frightened of the lasses?”
“Have ye quit wettin’ the bed?”
“Have ye still a wee wanker?”
“Do ye still like wearin’ dresses and prancing around like a faerie?”
A smile finally broke across Nial’s face. “Aye! And when I do, I dream of ye dancin’ with me!”
The men broke into a fit of laughter and hugged each other while Robert and Andrew looked at each other. ’Twas a confusing hello, to say the least.
“Nial McKee, ye rat bastard! How long has it been?”
“Far too long, ye scurvy dog!”
Findley looked down at Robert and Andrew. “Lads, I want ye to meet someone who is even more insane that Malcolm Buchannan,” he said as he cast a wry smile to Nial.
Nial looked down at the boys with a menacing expression. “Aye, I am. And you’d be smart to remember that, lads,” he winked at each of the boys, raised his eyebrows and sat down on the ground near the fire.
Findley laughed as he sat back down and retrieved his trencher. “Robert and Andrew, this is Nial McKee. He fancies himself chief of the Clan McKee. But he’s really more the chatelaine of their castle,” he winked at both the boys who had now returned to their seats.
Nial ignored the insult as he stretched his legs out and crossed his arms over his chest. “Aye, I may be the chatelaine, but I’m still here to pull yer faerie arse from the fire. Again.”
Findley ate and began to feel better. With so many men here to help, he no longer doubted the success of the mission at hand. With the combined forces of the MacDougall’s, McDunnah's and McKee's, they’d have Maggy and Ian out of harm’s way in no time. At least, that was his sincerest hope and prayer.
When they finished eating and washed off the mud and sweat, they gathered around the fire and began to plan their assault. If everything went as planned, Findley would have his arms wrapped around Maggy before the sun rose the next day.
~~~
Lightning ripped violently and dangerously through the night sky. Thunder rattled and shook Lady Judith Kinleigh’s carriage, causing a squeal of fright to escape her maid’s lips.
“Kate!” Lady Judith hissed. “Please, do not squeal so!” Aye, she too was frightened of the storm that had descended upon them as they crossed Scotland from Inverness to Aberdeen. Lady Judith however, remained graceful and dignified.
But Kate trembled and shook with each flash of lightning and rumble of thunder. She sat across from her lady, a death grip on to the velvet seat. “I’m sorry, m’lady,” her voice more than a bit shaky. “I’ve never liked storms.”
Lady Judith let out a sigh and rolled her eyes. “’Tis just a storm, Kate. There is nothing to be frightened over.” She lied of course, but she didn’t want her maid to know that she too was quite unsettled by the storm.
Lady Judith hated travelling by carriage, especially on these rough and uneven roads. She would have much preferred to have ridden her mare, but her husband, Lord Kinleigh, wouldn’t allow it. She was, after all, a lady. And ladies, he insisted, didn’t ride by horseback all the way from Inverness to Aberdeen. What would people think?
Truth be told, Lady Judith didn’t care much what other people thought. But she did love her husband, a highly unusual thing that was, and his opinion did matter. She knew he lied when he said he worried over what society might think of his wife riding horseback for such a long distance. But the truth of the matter was, he worried over her safety. There were ne’er-do-wells and highwaymen galore in many parts of Scotland. He couldn’t stand the thought of some blackguard taking her
for ransom. Or worse.
If it gave her husband’s heart some measure of security to have her travel by carriage, then so be it, even if the bone jarring ride made her feel as though she were on a ship at sea, being tossed about in a horrific storm.
They travelled with two carriages and fifteen soldiers. One carriage held Lady Judith and her maid, the other held their luggage. Lady Judith could barely wait to return home to her husband and three children. She missed them terribly, so therefore had insisted that they keep pushing onward even after the sun had set. She hadn’t been prepared for such a threatening storm as the one they now rode through. She was beginning to wish she had listened to Forbes earlier when he suggested they stop and take comfort at an inn. But Lady Judith had been far too anxious to return home and insisted they stay their course.
As they rode down the severely rutted road, being tossed about like loose potatoes inside a large bowl, Lady Judith fought her queasy stomach. It amazed her how one could get seasick without so much as a toe set upon a ship. Her stomach however, proved such a thing was possible. She swore that if they didn’t stop soon, her late dinner would soon be splattered all over the floor of the fine carriage.
She didn’t think it possible for the road to get worse, but it soon did. The carriage hit a very large hole that sent both Lady Judith and her maid flying from their seats. When they landed with a great thud, the carriage listed heavily to one side and slammed both women into the wall.
“Oh! This can’t be good, m’lady!” Kate cried when the carriage finally stopped swaying to and fro. It remained precariously perched to one side, forcing both women to sit on the wall instead of the bench. They heard voices shouting outside the carriage, and for a moment, Lady Judith feared they might be under attack.
The carriage was practically lying on its side. Lady Judith reached for Kate’s trembling hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “We’ll be well soon enough, Kate,” she told her, more to reassure her own mind than her maid’s.
Only a short moment passed before the door to the carriage flew open and her man Forbes poked his head through. “Are ye well, m’lady?” he asked with much worry in his voice.
Findley's Lass Page 27
