“The guards wouldna let us leave without them. We had no choice, Fia.” Morag had tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry, but we were worried about ye and had to do it.”
“Get him,” said one of the guards to the other.
“Nay! Leave Alastair alone.” Fia turned around to find Alastair atop his horse and leaving through the garden gate.
“Follow him and kill him,” commanded one of the guards.
“Nay!” Fia shouted again. She ran to her horse and mounted and rode out of the garden in front of the soldiers. Alastair was just up ahead. As she caught up, more guards led by Branton appeared in the woods, blocking his escape.
“There he is. Just like I told you.” Branton, the traitor, led the way toward the secret garden.
“You should never have left the savage before you were sure he was dead,” snapped George, one of the sentries that had been left to guard the castle while Lord Beaufort and his men went to fight for the king. “Men, finish the job and kill him now.”
“Wait! Dinna hurt him.” Fia rode to Alastair’s side. Alastair was trapped with men all around him and no way to escape. Just as the guards moved toward him, Alastair drew his sword with one hand and reached over and grabbed Fia with the other. He pulled her in front of him atop his horse and held the cold steel to her throat.
“Move aside, or I’ll slit her throat,” spat Alastair.
In too much shock to speak, Fia kept silent. How could Alastair act this way after she’d helped him and trusted him? This couldn’t be happening.
“Lower your blade, Highlander,” commanded another of the guards named Roger.
“Move aside, or I’ll kill her, I swear I will,” shouted Alastair.
“Please dinna let him hurt my sister,” shouted Morag from behind her.
“You aren’t going to hurt her, and we’re not letting you go,” answered George. “It is my job to protect Lord Beaufort’s wards while he is away.”
“If I kill her, ye’ll have the bastard triplets huntin’ ye down like dogs for lettin’ anythin’ happen to her,” said Alastair.
The guard hesitated for a moment and then mumbled something to Roger. He raised his hand in the air. “Let him pass,” commanded George, not wanting to risk it.
With the blade still pressed up against her throat, Alastair directed his horse around the Englishmen and took off at a full gallop.
Fia held on to her crown as they rode away. Glancing over her shoulder, tears formed in her eyes as she saw her sister and cousins crying. Why was Alastair acting this way? She realized he was doing it to save his life. But when the English could no longer be seen behind him, she didn’t understand why he didn’t let her go.
“Release me,” she commanded, struggling against him.
He lowered his blade but held her tightly around her waist. “I canna do that, lass.”
“The guards are no longer followin’ us. Let me down.”
“Nay. Now that I ken who ye are, ye are much too valuable to leave behind.”
“What do ye mean?” she asked. “Is it because my faither is the bastard of the late king?”
“Nay. It is because ye are a stinkin’ Gordon, the clan who was once aligned with the MacPhersons but left to team up with the traitorous Clan Grant instead! The Grants are the ones holdin’ my faither prisoner.”
“I dinna understand.”
“Ye are my assurance that my faither will be set free. A little trade is just what I need.” He slowed the horse and replaced his sword into the sheath strapped to his back. Then he plucked the crown from her head.
“Give me that,” she spat, reaching for the crown, but he wouldn’t release it.
“I think this would be safer off yer head for the trip.” He reached down and shoved the crown into the travel bag. Then his arm closed around her, holding her tightly up against him.
“I’m to be a hostage then?” This thought surprised and appalled her at the same time. Never had she thought she’d be in this position.
“Ye are more than a hostage. Ye are my answer to all my troubles. I’ll no’ only get my faither returned now, but will earn the respect of the rest of my clan.”
“Yer clan doesna care about ye, or they would never have left ye behind.”
“Dinna be so sure about that.” Alastair stopped his horse, looked around, and put his fingers in his mouth and whistled. Out of nowhere, a clan of Highlanders appeared, surrounding him. To her dismay, Brohain and the rest of the escaped prisoners led the way.
Chapter 8
“What is she doin’ here?” snarled Brohain. “We should have killed her three years ago when I wanted to the first time.”
“No one is harmin’ a hair on this lass’s head,” warned Alastair. “She is under my protection until we get back to the Highlands.”
“The Highlands?” asked Earc. “We need to fight against Richard and his troops. I’ve heard from a traveler on the road that Richard’s army passed through this area days ago and are movin’ up the coast at a good clip. They even have ships with more troops at every port.”
“We’ll head north, but I’m no’ stoppin’ until we reach the Highlands. This lass is goin’ to be a trade to the Grants for the release of my faither.”
“Why would they want her? She’s a stinkin’ Sassenach,” spat Rhodric.
“I am no’,” protested Fia, raising her chin proudly. “I am a Scot.”
“Half-Scot, or did ye forget?” Alastair reminded her. “Yer faither might think he’s a Scot, but he is nothin’ more than the bastard of the late English king and the king’s English mistress.”
“Ye willna get away with this,” cried Fia.
“On the contrary, ye have nothin’ to say about it,” Alastair told her. “And it will work like a charm. I do believe my luck is changin’.”
“I trusted ye, Alastair MacPherson! I helped ye, and now ye are treatin’ me like a prisoner? How could ye? I thought our kiss meant somethin’.”
“Ye kissed her?” Earc asked in disgust.
“Never mind,” growled Alastair. “Now, let’s get goin’ before the English decide to follow us. I am in no condition for a fight.” His hand went to his wounded side again before he took off toward the border holding tightly to Fia to make sure she wouldn’t fall . . . or try to escape.
They rode all day, making it over the border, stopping for the night on the banks of the River Tweed.
“We’ll camp here,” Alastair called out, halting his men. In the distance toward the coast, smoke could be seen billowing up into the air. Fia listened closely. She was sure she could hear the sounds of shouting and fighting way off in the distance.
“Somethin’s burnin’,” said Fia. Alastair reached out for her and lifted her from the horse.
“That is the land burnin’,” he told her.
“Richard must be pillagin’ and burnin’ his way up the coast.”
“Nay, lass. The Scots set those fires.”
“Why would the Scots burn their own land? That makes no sense.” Fia studied the smoke in the distance, thinking about the safety of her family.
“They are burnin’ the land to starve out the English to make them leave Scotland,” Niven explained.
“That’s right,” added Alastair. “If our enemy canna find food, the troops willna stay and fight.”
“How close are we to West Lothian?” asked Fia.
Alastair studied her face as he answered. “Not far. Why?”
“That’s where my family lives. I want to see them.”
“Ye said ye are a Gordon. Clan Gordon is in the Highlands.”
“Yes, but no’ all of them. There is a small sept of the Gordon Clan in the Lowlands. That is where my family resides. Can we pass through to make sure they are safe?”
“Nay, we canna do such a daft thing. I dinna trust ye willna try to escape. Dinna ye understand?” spat Alastair. “My clan has been feudin’ with the Grants for years. Yer clan has betrayed us by makin’ an alliance with the ene
my. The Grants captured my faither and have taken him prisoner in their dungeon.”
“I’m sorry about that, but I assure ye my family has nothin’ to do with it,” Fia protested. “Ye canna hold it against them.”
“Either way, we are no’ goin’ anywhere near yer home. Now stay close because I dinna want to have to chase ye in the dark. And dinna even think about escapin’, because it is no’ safe out there with the English army so close.”
“What are ye goin’ to do to me?” she asked, eyeing up the rest of the clan. She didn’t trust any of them. Not even Alastair since he’d abducted her.
“I’m no’ goin’ to do anythin’ to ye. Just the same, I’d stay close if I were ye. I canna guarantee the rest of my men are as honorable as me.”
“Honorable?” she snorted. “If ye were honorable, ye wouldna have taken me captive. Or ye would have at least set me free once ye realized the English were no longer followin’ us.”
“Fia, please. It is better if ye keep quiet. I need to think.”
Fia stayed close to Alastair as nightfall covered the land. She wasn’t exactly sure where they were and couldn’t risk sneaking off, hoping to find her home. As Alastair said, there was a war going on. Plus, it sounded as if he didn’t even trust his own men, so why should she?
The Scots eyed her up and down. Several of them made some crude remarks about what they’d like to do with her, and she tried to ignore it. Later, as they sat around the fire consuming the last of the hare and pheasant, she decided she needed to push her fear aside, just like Imanie would have told her to do.
Fia’s heart ached for Imanie. Every time she closed her eyes, all she could see was Imanie’s dead body crumpled up on the ground. Her thoughts drifted back to her lessons over the years. The old woman helped her sharpen her skill of observation to find out anything she wanted to know about anyone. It was easy now that she knew how.
“Try it again, Fia,” Imanie told her, sitting back in her chair, looking up to the sky. “I will say something, and you tell me if it is a lie or not.”
“All right, I’m ready.”
“I like . . . beets,” Imanie said, touching her nose as she spoke.
“Nay,” Fia said with a smile. “Ye touched yer nose when ye said it, so it is a lie.”
“Very good. And what does it mean when someone stands with their arms crossed over their chest like this?” She folded her arms in front of her.
“It means they are disagreeable or defensive.”
“That’s right.” Imanie, got out of the chair. “And what about this stance?” She stood up straight with her shoulders back.
“That means ye are confident,” Fia answered.
“And this?” Imanie opened her hands at her sides with her palms facing forward.
“Besides showin’ ye dinna have a weapon, it depicts honesty and sincerity.”
Imanie smiled. “You are a fast learner, Fia. Plus, you notice things that others don’t even see. Someday you will be able to use this skill to benefit you. But remember not to get distracted. If you do, you might miss something of importance that could cost you your life.”
Chapter 9
Alastair awoke early the next morning, wanting to meet with his men before Fia noticed. He’d barely slept a wink, trying to keep an eye on her. His men were looking at her in lust. He didn’t like that.
“Alastair, why in God’s name did ye wake us so early?” complained Brohain, coming to join the rest of them quite far from the fire. “The sun hasna even risen yet.”
“Aye,” added Rhodric. “I’d rather be curled up on a blanket by the fire with the wench.”
Alastair looked over his shoulder at Fia. She was sleeping with the blanket wrapped around her and had one leg sticking out. Her gown rode up, showing off her long, lean leg covered by her hose. “Concentrate on our mission,” Alastair commanded. “Is everyone here? I need to go over our plan.”
Fia’s eyes fluttered open at the sound of Alastair’s deep voice. Quickly scanning the area, she realized it was not yet daybreak. All the men were gathered at the edge of camp talking softly. Straining her ears trying to hear them, she could only make out bits and pieces of what they said.
Then the wind shifted, and she was able to hear every word. Through partially closed eyes she watched as well as listened. They’d moved far from the fire for their meeting, and that told her they were discussing plans that they didn’t want her to hear.
“Earc rode out durin’ the night to meet with one of our informants,” Alastair told the men in a low voice. “We have the update on the battle.”
“What did ye find out?” asked Fearchar.
“The English are pushin’ the Scots up the coast and gettin’ closer to Edinburgh,” Niven relayed the information.
“But we’ve got the French helpin’ us,” said one of the men in the clan. “We dinna need to worry.”
“No’ true,” said Alastair. “The French only give us an extra thousand soldiers. Our sources say Richard has over nine thousand archers and nearly forty-six hundred men-at-arms. Our own king, Robert, is planning an ambush, but he kens as well as us that we are no match for those stinkin’ Sassenachs, even with our French alliance.”
“That’s right,” agreed Fearchar. “They moved faster than we thought. Our only hope is the ambush with the Highlanders waitin’ for the English in Fife.”
“How do we ken the English will go to Fife?” asked Niven.
Earc answered. “Richard is a boy. He doesna have half the bloodlust of his grandfaither. But his uncle, John of Gaunt, will push him to move toward Fife. I have received word from our contact that John has already suggested it.”
“Then we need to move north quickly,” Alastair told them.
“We’re no’ goin’ to stay and fight?” asked Brohain, crossing his arms over his chest. Fia recognized the man’s position as an act of defiance.
“Brohain, ye ken the plan,” Alastair reminded him. “We canna go against our king’s wishes. We are to spy and find out all we can and bring back word to the Highland clans waitin’ in Fife. Are ye goin’ to give me trouble?”
Brohain scratched his nose as he answered. “Nay, of course no’, my laird.”
Fia’s heart beat faster. He touched his nose when he answered! That meant he lied and was going to cause trouble for Alastair after all. Then she spied Brohain and his sidekick, Rhodric, with their fists clenched at their sides. That told her they weren’t going to be open to Alastair’s ideas. She didn’t need to hear their words because their body actions said it all.
“Guid,” answered Alastair, sounding as if he believed him. “Pack up quickly. We need to move out and head to the Highlands.”
“We havena eaten yet,” complained one of the men.
“We’ll stop along the way and eat later.” Alastair ran a weary hand through his hair. “I need to get back to the Highlands quickly.” Worry showed on his wrinkled brow.
“Ye said I, no’ we,” Brohain pointed out. “This all has to do with that wretched wench, doesna it?”
Alastair turned to look at Fia. She quickly squeezed her eyes closed hoping he hadn’t seen her watching them.
“Fia is a bonnie cailin, no’ a wretched wench,” Alastair told his men.
She smiled inwardly at hearing him say this.
“Ye said she was a hostage to exchange for yer faither,” said Rhodric. “Now ye sound as if ye are smitten with the lass.”
Fia’s eyes opened slightly as she waited for Alastair’s response. “Nay, I’m no’ smitten, just concerned. We can use her to bargain so the Grants will release my faither. She means naught else to me but the answer to all my problems.”
Fia’s heart sank in her chest. This wasn’t what she wanted to hear. But then Alastair pinched the bridge of his nose and pushed back his hair with one hand. He lied! His body actions just made it clear to her that she meant something to him after all and he didn’t want his men to know it.
She rolled over and
smiled. So, the laird of Clan MacPherson was attracted to his prisoner. That kiss they’d shared in the secret garden meant something to him even if he denied it. Perhaps she wasn’t the only prisoner here. If he was a prisoner of his emotions, she could use that to her advantage.
That pleased her. The part that bothered her was the battle going on between the English and the Scots. She had the blood of both sides flowing through her veins. Fia didn’t want her family or her friends killed. Richard was her half-cousin so, by right, he was family, too. He was young like her and didn’t deserve to die either. She was fond of her cousin, though she didn’t know him well. Once a year while being fostered by Lord Beaufort, she and her cousins would visit with the young king. Richard had always been pleasant to them although he didn’t care for Fia’s father or uncles.
“Get up,” she heard, turning over to see Alastair’s tall body looming over her. The early morning rays of sun coming up on the horizon shone from behind him, casting a sheen around his body and illuminating his dark hair. He looked tired. Stubble peppered his jaw. Seeing his mussed hair made her want to run her hands through it to fix it. “We need to go.”
“Where are we goin’?” she asked, pretending not to know. She sat up, stretched and yawned.
“Dinna play games with me, lass. I ken ye heard us talkin’. I saw ye watchin’ us through yer half-closed eyes.”
“Blethers! Then why dinna ye have yer secret meetin’s in front of me from now on instead of tryin’ to keep things from me?”
“Fine. I will.” He grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet. “Ye are my prisoner, and I am goin’ to exchange ye for my faither who is bein’ held by the Grants.”
“I ken that. But it isna goin’ to work.”
“What do ye mean?” He walked over and dumped water over the fire to douse it, and then started kicking dirt atop it.
“Clan Grant barely even kens me,” she told him, hoping he would believe it. “They willna want me, so yer plan willna work.” The Grants knew her well, but she didn’t want Alastair to find out. Also, the MacKeefes and the Douglas Clans were close friends of her father since they had been a big part of his life. Most of the Lowland clans of Scotland knew her, too, since she was a daughter of one of the Legendary Bastards of the Crown. They admired and respected Reed Douglas for being the only one of the three brothers who refused to pay homage to the late King Edward, staying loyal to Scotland instead.
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