A Highlander of Her Own

by Melissa Mayhue

  Dair crossed the space separating him from the old guard in three long strides, and threw his arms around the man as they exchanged hugs with much pounding on one another’s backs.

  So this was the man who’d brought the news that sent Caden racing off to rescue his brother. This was Alycie and Steafan’s brother. Ellie studied him as he and Gregor continued their greeting. He was tall and broad shouldered, with long brown hair pulled back and tied at the nape of his neck. Even the bruising and cuts on one side of his face didn’t detract from his beauty. Somehow they only made him look more dangerous.

  “It’s good to have you home safe, lad,” Gregor mumbled before he straightened, cleared his throat and aimed a glare at Ellie. “But the lady should no be on the wall walk. Master Caden would have my arse for it if she were to come to harm.”

  Dair grinned, slapping Gregor on the back before he turned to Ellie. “You leave Cade to me. I’ll watch over the lady if it makes you feel better.”

  In one step he was in front of her, bowing over her hand. “Sir Alasdair Maxwell at yer service, milady.”

  She was about to ask if all this male-posturing meant she got to do what she wanted without further argument when she spied a rider in the distance. Her heart sped up and she ran the two steps to the wall, stretching up on tiptoes trying to get a better view.

  Dair’s hand gripped her arm as she pointed toward what she’d seen.

  “Rider at the gate!” Gregor shouted.

  “Is it…?” She could feel the pulse pounding in her head.

  “It’s naught but one of the shepherds coming in,” Gregor answered, sounding almost as disappointed as she felt.

  Perhaps she’d been wrong. Standing up here watching, dealing with the frustration of each normal visitor, getting her hopes up just to have them dashed—that was more upsetting than waiting down below.

  “You know, I think Gregor’s right. I’m going back down.”

  “Thank you, milady,” the old guard responded, relief evident in his voice.

  Dair still gripped her arm. “I’ll escort you.”

  She didn’t argue. It was easier to allow him to guide her down the stairs than to point out she didn’t need his help.

  At the foot of the stairs he bowed over her hand again. “If there’s anything you need, dinna forget, I’m pledged to yer service now.”

  His grin with its quick flash of dimple was so contagious she found herself smiling back before turning to hurry away, not sure exactly where she hurried to. Just away.

  So that’s a knight. The history classes she’d taken hadn’t done them justice. He was no Caden, but he’d turn heads, that was for sure.

  Where you go?

  Ellie smiled as the little terrier’s voice lilted through her mind.

  “Exploring. Want to come along?”

  Missy matched her step and they strolled past the lists toward the back of the property, wandering aimlessly. The whole of Dun Ard, which had been so endlessly fascinating to her only days ago, now seemed empty and uninteresting.

  Now that Caden was gone.

  Perhaps it was because he was the one person she had confided her secret to. The one person who knew she spoke to animals and understood when they spoke to her. The one person who at least pretended to believe her when she’d told him, without making fun of her for it.

  She stopped and looked around before she hung her head, shaking it in irritation with herself.

  No, it was more than that, and she might as well face the facts. She missed seeing him, talking to him, listening to him. Touching him.

  She just plain missed Caden.

  “How stupid is that?” she muttered.

  No stupid. Lonely when pack mate gone. Normal.

  “He’s not my pack mate. He belongs to Alycie.” The woman he was engaged to marry.

  Wrong. You alpha female now. You must challenge.

  Great. Now she was getting advice on her love life from a dog. Advice she planned to ignore, because as she recalled, the last time she’d taken Missy’s advice she’d ended up with nothing more than a killer hangover.

  “Come on, let’s see what other secrets this place has to offer.” She picked up her speed, hoping to distract the little dog as well as her own thoughts.

  Rounding a low hill, they came upon a large circle of stacked stones, obviously man-made. Closer to it, Ellie realized it was a graveyard, probably the family plot.

  No! rang out sharply in Ellie’s mind as she stepped into the circle.

  “What?” She turned to look at the little dog standing outside the stones. “What’s wrong with you?”

  Dead Hu-mans in that ground. Maybe spirits.

  Missy’s normally wagging tail was still, drooping down between her legs.

  “That’s ridiculous. Why would you think something like that?”

  Hu-mans worry much. Not at peace when they die. Not like dogs.

  Dogs were superstitious?

  Ellie grinned at the little animal as a childhood memory of some scary movie fluttered though her mind. A creepy, dark graveyard, complete with lightning strikes and a big iron gate that opened with a long-drawn-out high-pitched squeal.

  Missy flattened to the ground, whimpering.

  “Oh my gosh, what’s wrong?” Ellie rushed toward the dog, scooping her up and cuddling her close.

  Bad noise hurt ears.

  “Bad noise?” Ellie’s hand froze in midstroke. Surely she couldn’t have projected her memory that clearly. “This noise?” She ran over the scene again, lingering over the iron gate and its screech.

  The dog in her arms whimpered and began to shake.

  “Well, I’ll be damned. Sorry, Missy. I’ll be more careful.” She hugged the little creature to her, scratching the terrier’s head.

  Just another thing to file away without really putting any thought into. She couldn’t afford to think on any of it too much. If she did, she would be overwhelmed by how her life had roller-coastered completely out of control.

  Back home, Ray probably had the ranch declared his by now, and here she was, stuck hundreds of years away, unable to do anything to stop him. No, all she could do was constantly find new and ever weirder “talents” she was developing, like projecting thoughts and sounds into the mind of a dog.

  If only she had someone to talk to so she could try to sort through it all. But with that wish, the only face that shimmered in her mind was Caden’s.

  And thinking of Caden brought back the overwhelming apprehension she’d been fighting all morning. An emotion so strong it was almost as if it were coming at her from the outside. Almost as if she were picking up on someone else’s feelings.

  But that was impossible.

  Caden pressed his heels to his horse’s sides and the animal moved forward, pushing through the foliage into the gloom of the forest. He slapped at the low-hanging branches, fighting the urge to draw his sword.

  It was the perfect place for an ambush.

  And yet they were still days away from Wode Castle. Reason would dictate he should have nothing to worry about here.

  “Reason be damned,” he muttered.

  Every instinct of warning he had rang out in his head. Something was not right.

  The narrow path ahead was empty. Where was Steafan?

  Caden stopped ignoring his strongest urge and reached to his back, drawing his sword.

  Not a moment too soon.

  Four men moved out of the trees, surrounding him, their swords drawn. Without thought, Caden defaulted to his years of training, feinting at the first attacker and swinging his sword at the second even as he tugged on the reins to turn his horse into the others, using the animal’s body as a weapon. He could handle this. He was mounted and this ragged band of brigands were on foot.

  His blade connected, sending a jolt up his arm to match the man’s screams. Caden pulled hard, swinging his sword down and across, ready to strike the next man, only vaguely conscious of the first man’s body falling to the ground
.

  He deflected the thrust of the second attacker with the side of his blade, the echoing ring of metal dulled by the carpet of newly budding green around them.

  “Halt!”

  Caden spared only a glance in the direction of the command even as he lifted his sword to deliver another blow.

  Ahead, Steafan knelt on the ground with his head bent, one attacker on either side. The larger of the two men held a sword poised over Steafan’s neck.

  How had they managed to capture him with no sound?

  “I said halt! Drop yer weapon, MacAlister, lest you fancy having yer companion’s head separated from his body.”

  They knew his name!

  Caden turned his horse to face the only one of their attackers who was himself mounted, the man who commanded, it appeared.

  “For Christ’s sake, Cade, do as he says!” Steafan pleaded.

  On his own, he was confident he could have defeated these men. But they had Steafan and they looked desperate enough to do as they threatened. He had no choice. He would not risk the life of one who was like a brother to him.

  With one last look at his friend, Caden tossed his sword to the ground.

  “Now climb down off that fine animal of yers and hand over the silver you carry.”

  Thank the Fae he’d listened to his internal warning of danger.

  Twenty

  Blane paced back and forth across the small cell, his head bowed to allow for the low ceiling. The sun was near to rising this day. That meant soon she would come.

  Each day just before the sun rose, Catriona appeared outside the little window, various tidbits of food hidden in her cloak.

  He appreciated the victuals she brought, but in all honesty it was the woman herself he’d grown anxious to see each day, more so than the food she brought.

  Colin slept, curled up for warmth, his face to the wall.

  Perhaps it was his warrior’s training, to grab his rest whenever and wherever he could. Blane wasn’t sure. He knew only that his young cousin had mastered the talent.

  “Laird MacKiernan?” The hushed whisper floated through the open window.

  Blane reached the opening in an instant, smiling as the angel standing outside dropped the cloak from her head and looked up at him.

  “Did I no ask you to call me by my given name?” His hand itched to touch her skin, to feel the warmth of her cheeks as they turned pink in response to his question.

  “Aye, that you did. Blane,” she added shyly as she lifted the little bundle she carried to him.

  Their fingers touched in the exchange and he grasped her hand, not wanting to let go right away.

  “Is something wrong?” she questioned, but made no attempt to remove her fingers from his grasp.

  He wanted to laugh at the absurdity of her question. Everything was wrong, starting with his being inside this filthy cave of a room, locked away from the most interesting woman he’d ever had the pleasure of meeting.

  And yet when he looked down into her gentle eyes, he could only return her smile and shake his head. “No, my lady. Nothing is wrong.”

  “Is your cousin healing? I was so frightened for his health when I saw him last.”

  “He is better now.” Amazingly enough. Once again, the recuperative powers of their Fae ancestry played into Colin’s recovery.

  “Is there anything I can bring you on the morrow?” She asked the same question each day though they both knew she was limited in what she could slip to them.

  “The key,” Colin muttered from his spot in the corner. “Tell her the damned key to this cell would be a nice enough gift to bring.”

  Perhaps his young cousin had only mastered the art of appearing to sleep.

  “I canna…. I’m so very sorry, Blane.” Catriona clutched her hand to her heart. “I canna bring the key. Food, perhaps a blanket I could manage. But no the means to yer escape. Austyn would never forgive me.”

  And therein lay the problem.

  Blane had already learned much about the lady. She’d been widowed at an early age and had spent the last twenty years living in her family’s castle under her brother’s authority. Though she seemed appalled by his actions, and fearful of the man himself, she also felt indebted to him.

  She would never assist in their escape.

  And he would never ask it of her.

  He was about to tell her so when he heard the other voice outside.

  “Lady Baxter? What are you doing out here?”

  Blane drew back from the opening. If someone discovered Catriona communicating with the prisoners, there was no telling what might happen to her.

  “I…I was simply out here to…” Her voice paused and Blane’s stomach rolled.

  The woman was unable to lie, even to save herself.

  “I’m afraid I must insist you accompany me back inside now, Lady Baxter.”

  “You dinna understand, Sim. I couldna allow the laird and his cousin to starve. Please dinna tell Austyn.”

  “I’m sure he’ll understand, Aunt. Now you’ll come with me, aye? I’ve no wish to haul you in over my shoulder, but I will if you defy me. It’s no safe for you to be out here.”

  “You were much more agreeable as a child, Simeon.”

  Blane pressed his back against the wall of his prison, rage and helplessness warring for control of his heart.

  “Dinna fash yerself over this, Cousin. She’ll be well.” Colin sat in his corner staring over at him. “She is Wodeford’s sister, after all. He’d no bring her to any harm over a few crumbs of food.”

  Blane nodded blindly. She’d best be well. Or any who brought her harm would have to answer to him.

  Twenty-one

  Caden awoke with a jerk, uncomfortably aware of the strain on his shoulders. He sat on the ground, slumped against a tree with his arms stretched around behind it, his wrists bound together.

  He had to organize his thoughts to come up with a plan. If only he knew who these people were or could recall some snippet of conversation, some clue to help him.

  That first night was still a blur.

  After he’d been surrounded and dropped his weapon, he’d climbed down off his horse. The last thing about the capture Caden remembered was a blow to the back of his head. Right after he’d announced there was no silver.

  He leaned his head against the tree and clenched his teeth against a groan as the rough bark bit into a tender spot. He closed his eyes, trying to ignore the pain in his body and the apprehension in his heart.

  The physical was much easier to dismiss even though the worry set his head to pounding. Worry or lack of food. Or the blow to his skull. It didn’t matter. His discomfort wasn’t important.

  Two days. The thought ate at him. He’d lost two days.

  His captors huddled around a small fire, talking and laughing as they passed around a flask. Again tonight they’d placed him far enough away from their fire that its heat did nothing to dispel the night’s chill.

  The cold didn’t matter. The pounding ache in his head and the raw burn in his hands were nothing compared to the nauseous fear in his stomach.

  Fear not for himself but for his family.

  They’d traveled two days’ time, going back over ground he and Steafan had crossed on their journey to the banks of the River Dochart. Until late this afternoon, that is, when they’d turned up a trail and headed into the high mountains.

  Still, they were afoot. Once he regained his horse, he could make up the time. He had to.

  Two days headed the wrong way. Two days stolen from his quest to save his brother and cousin.

  His mind raced, every thought coming back to the same harrowing conclusion. If he couldn’t free himself and manage to get the ransom to Wodeford, Colin and Blane would die.

  And Steafan. He was forced to add Steafan to his list of worries as well. He lifted his head and scanned the circle once more, hoping to find his friend.

  He had to locate his horse and Steafan. Both had disappeared on tha
t first night.

  Just one more time when those who were most important to him would suffer because he hadn’t been strong enough. Hadn’t been smart enough. Hadn’t paid attention to the signs in front of him. No one would even know what had happened until it was too late. He should have listened to his instincts, should have shared his concerns with Steafan, should have—

  Enough!

  He fought back his inner demons.

  He’d had enough of the guilt. It served no purpose but to distract him. He needed to keep his mind sharp and alert. He focused on the pain in his body, bringing him back to the here and now.

  Who were these people? They didn’t appear to be Wodeford’s men. They were too ragged, too ill-equipped. And yet how had common brigands known his name, known he carried silver?

  He prayed that Steafan had escaped, though the prospect seemed unlikely. He couldn’t count on that. He needed a plan.

  A cold, wet touch to his hand brought him up short. The soft whimper that followed convinced him of the source.

  Baby.

  He scratched at the dog’s muzzle with his fingers, feeling almost foolish that something as minor as the dog’s presence could bring him a sense of relief.

  Relief was the last thing he should be feeling. It wouldn’t do to have these men discover Ellie’s pet. If anything happened to the beast, Ellie would be heart-broken. He flicked his fingers at the creature to scare him off, but the dog obviously thought it a game and rubbed his head against Caden’s bound hands.

  “Go,” he hissed, shaking his head at his own foolishness. As if the animal could understand his words.

  The thought barely reached his conscious mind before his hand stilled.

  Ellie had told him animals were sensitive to the thoughts of all people. It just so happened she was also sensitive to their thoughts.

  If what she said was true…

  Could he risk speaking to the dog? Would the beast have any idea what he was saying?

  A large warm tongue licked across his fingers.

  It was worth a try.

  “Go to Ellie. Tell her what’s happened. Get her to send help.”