A Highlander of Her Own

by Melissa Mayhue

Even if the help came too late for him and Steafan, maybe they could still save Colin and Blane.

  The climb up the narrow, rocky paths had taken Caden’s last energy reserves. He slowed, catching his breath before they approached an even steeper climb. His guards paused as well, waiting for an approaching horseman headed their way.

  Caden used the opportunity to study his surroundings, none of which were familiar to him. In the trees below he spied a flash of gray fur, and for an instant stared into the familiar eyes of Ellie’s big dog.

  Of course it had been too much to expect. Still, the disappointment knocked the wind from him. Until that moment he hadn’t realized how much he had depended on the beast to carry his message.

  So much for any hope for help.

  The man behind Caden shoved him as they started forward and he stumbled, falling to one knee. The horseman rode close, yelling out his orders to no one in particular.

  “Get him up and into the hall. His lairdship awaits our guest.”

  The guard who held the lead rope attached to Caden’s wrists laughed and yanked him forward, jerking him to his feet and back onto the path.

  Rounding yet another turn, Caden spotted a neglected stone building jutting from a ledge above, one side of the keep a mass of crumbling stone. Although this once must have been someone’s ancestral home, it certainly didn’t appear as such now. It looked to be in much worse repair then even Sithean Fardach.

  As they approached, he would have sworn this place abandoned if not for the men standing on what was left of the guard wall. Only the large gate appeared to be in decent repair as the heavy portcullis lifted with a loud grating screech.

  Through the gate and across the weed-grown bailey they trudged until they reached the rock walls of the keep itself. With the main stairs rotted away, a long ladder served the purpose of providing access to the second-floor entry.

  Caden wasn’t sure he had the strength to climb the ladder or even the will to try any longer. Then he thought of those who depended on him and he reached down deep, demanding more of himself. He would survive. He would not fail his family again.

  “You’ll need the use of yer hands, MacAlister.”

  The guard’s words gave him momentary hope of an opportunity to escape until a loop of rope dropped around his neck and tightened just before the man sliced through the binding at his wrists.

  They led him up the ladder and into the hall bound about the neck like a beast. Each time he slowed, the rope tightened, threatening to cut off his air.

  Caden stumbled into the dark hall gasping for air, choking on the stench of dirty men, sour ale, and smoke.

  Directly in front of him, a large fire burned in the center of the hall. Apparently the fireplace had stood on the crumbled side of the building.

  “What have you done with my silver, MacAlister?” a voice rasped somewhere ahead of him.

  Caden kept his head bowed, his eyes squinted against the burn of smoke. He rubbed at his wrists, stalling for time, hoping his vision would adjust to the smoke-darkened room enough to allow him to identify his captor.

  “Who are you?” he managed to choke out before the rope around his neck tightened again.

  “Show the proper respect,” the guard next to him growled and something hard hit him in the back, knocking him to his knees.

  “You have the honor to speak with the Laird of the Menzies himself, Symund MacNab.”

  Caden looked up to find a short barrel of a man strutting toward him out of the shadows, a stout walking stick at his side. The “laird” was every bit as ragged and filthy as the men who followed him. At least, he had something of an answer. A misbegotten group of brigands, likely men who had been banished from their clans.

  Working his fingers under the rope at his neck, Caden loosened it enough to allow him a deep breath before answering.

  “I’ve met Alexander Menzies. I traveled to his castle with my cousin. Yer no him. And this”—Caden looked into the decayed gloom around him—“this is certainly no the home of the Laird of the Menzies.”

  Caden felt more than saw the stick swinging toward his head. By reflex, he grabbed it and jerked it from MacNab’s unsuspecting hands. They’d underestimated him and he intended to take full advantage of their mistake.

  Pushing to his feet, he twirled the stick until he felt it make solid contact with one of his guards. The rope around his neck slacked and Caden swung his arm out the other direction, his fist connecting with the face of the second guard before the noose around his neck tightened, robbing him of air. A blow to the backs of his legs took him to the ground.

  As the rope around his neck tightened, his vision tunneled, and little stars of light danced around the outside of the dark circle he felt himself gazing down. A kick to his stomach curled him into a ball and he readied himself for the end.

  “No! You canna kill him! No yet. He’s the only one who can tell us where the silver’s hidden.”

  That voice!

  Caden struggled to turn his head toward the sound but the rope held him firmly in place. He fought the darkness that hovered around the edges of his vision, putting his last efforts toward seeing who approached.

  “Weel, my greedy friend, if MacAlister’s the only one who can find my silver”—MacNab’s foot jabbed into Caden’s shoulder, rolling him to his back—“then tell me, what further need do I have for you?”

  “Here now, MacNab, we have a deal. We’re to split the money and yer to make him suffer for what he’s done to my family.”

  Caden fought to keep his eyes open as hurried footsteps neared. He knew that voice. It seemed impossible but he had to see for himself.

  “Aye, that we did. But that was when you promised me the silver. Without it, our bargain’s null.” MacNab bent to retrieve his walking stick, swinging it as he stood, connecting with the head of the man who had spoken.

  A body fell to the floor, sending a wash of air over Caden. Just before the darkness completely overtook him, he rolled his eyes to the side and stared into the bloody face of the man he’d considered a brother.

  Steafan Maxwell.

  Twenty-two

  Ellie felt like a coyote caught in a trap, ready to chew off her own foot in order to escape. Trouble was, there wasn’t anywhere to escape to and nothing to escape from as best she could tell.

  She couldn’t even explain to herself what was wrong. Just some massive foreboding anxiety, like waiting for a tornado to hit. She was simply antsy as hell and needed something to keep her hands and her mind busy. Right this minute.

  All around her the kitchen bustled with activity, but each time she offered to help, she was refused.

  “Water, water everywhere, nor any drop to drink…” she muttered. The line from one of the classics she’d studied in school popped into her memory, and for the first time she felt as though she completely related to it. It seemed as though everyone but she had something to do.

  “What is it you say, lass?” The big cook swirled past her in a cloud of flour and cinnamon.

  “How about the wash? I could help with the laundry.” She’d seen how hard the women worked at that particular task, how very long it took.

  Bridey laughed as she smacked her fist into a big lump of rising dough. “It’s no wash day, milady, or I just might take you up on that offer. Now off with you. Yer underfoot here in my kitchen and I’ve baking to do.”

  “Can I help with—”

  “No,” Bridey interrupted. “Now go on. Be a good lass and find something else to do with yerself.”

  Ellie wandered into the great hall where Anna and some of the other girls were cleaning tables to prepare for the midday meal. She reached for one of the pails of soapy water, but Anna’s hand over her own stopped her.

  “Dinna even think to do that,” the girl cautioned as she shook her wild mop of red curls. “Bridey would have my hide if she found you in here cleaning.”

  “Come on, Anna. I’m going absolutely nuts if I don’t find something to
do with myself!”

  “I’ve something you both can do.” Sallie leaned awkwardly against the door, her hands splayed across her huge stomach. “My daughter has decided it’s time to meet the world. I need you to find my mother and Ran. Quickly.”

  One look at the expression on Sallie’s face and Ellie started off at a run. “I’ll find Ran. You get Rosalyn,” she shouted over her shoulder as she hurried out across the hallway and through the big entry door.

  Gathering her skirts up in one arm, she raced across the courtyard, slowing for a moment to yell up at the guards on the wall walk who stared down at her.

  “The MacPherson! Where is he?”

  The big guard lifted an arm, pointing. “The stables, milady.”

  She didn’t need him to add that her exposed legs were improper. She could see judgment in his expression. He could glower until his face fell off for all Ellie cared. Right now she was a woman on a mission, and speed meant more to her than some ideal of modesty.

  She ran for all she was worth, across the bailey, into the stable yard and through the open doors of the stable itself.

  “Ranald MacPherson!” she yelled as she entered, stopping to bend from the waist and catch her breath for a moment.

  From one of the stalls in the back came a muffled “Aye?”

  “It’s time! Hurry up. Sallie needs you.”

  She barely had the words out of her mouth before he stood in front of her, bare-chested and dirty, a wooden paddle-shaped shovel in one hand.

  “It’s my Sallie’s time?” He threw down the tool without waiting for her answer and began to run.

  Once again, Ellie hiked up her skirts and took off after him. Halfway across the courtyard she’d nearly caught up when a sound caught her attention.

  A low, keening howl.

  She paused, scanning the courtyard, listening intently.

  Nothing.

  She shook her head at her own imagination. Must be the excitement of the moment getting to her after such a long, dull spell.

  Hurrying, she entered the keep in time to see Ran scoop his wife into his arms and bolt up the stairs with what looked like every female in the place following in his footsteps.

  Except Bridey. The old cook stood at the bottom of the stairs, a silly grin on her face.

  “That’s what every woman should have. A husband who loves her so much, he’d gladly make the fool of himself.”

  “I didn’t think men in this time were with their wives when the women delivered babies.” Ellie caught herself and quickly amended her question when she saw the puzzled expression on the woman’s face, “Here in Scotland, I mean.”

  Bridey nodded as if that made more sense to her. “It’s the same everywhere, I’d fancy. I dinna ken any who do.” The wide smile returned as she leaned close to confide, “Ah, but there would be the devil to pay with Lady Rosalyn if Ran dinna attend to Sallie. And after all these years, I suspect the lad wants to be with her. Did you no see the way he looked at her? It’s so romantic.”

  Missy’s sharp bark interrupted Bridey’s confidences.

  Ellie looked down to find the little dog fairly dancing around her feet.

  Stop shutting us out! Hurry!

  “What?”

  Missy ran toward the entry door, her nails clicking on the smooth stones.

  Baby needs you.

  Excusing herself, Ellie followed more slowly, the whine she thought she’d heard earlier returning and growing stronger. As she realized the sound wasn’t in her ears but in her mind, she picked up speed. In the courtyard she paused, unable to locate the source of the sound.

  “Where is he?”

  Outside the walls.

  Up the stairs to the wall walk she raced, ignoring the shout of the big guard as she leaned over the edge to look down below. Sure enough, Baby lay just outside the gates, his whimper clear in her mind now.

  “Open the gates,” she instructed the startled guard.

  “Sorry, milady. My orders are to open only for recognized riders. Seeing as there’s no one there…” He let the thought dangle as he stared at her.

  “My dog,” she countered irritably. “My dog is down there. Now open the gates or I’ll do it myself.”

  The guard crossed his arms, a grin spreading over his face. “No, milady, I dinna believe you’ll be doing that anytime soon.”

  Ellie glared at the man, quickly realizing she wasn’t getting anywhere. “I swear they must sprinkle the food with stubborn around here,” she huffed, turning to go back down the stairs.

  The muffled “There’s a good lass” from behind her did nothing for her mood.

  If that big goon thought she was going to simply give up, he could just think again.

  She stood at the inner gate, staring through the grate down the long dark tunnel. There had to be a switch or a handle or something around here. How did they lift the massive gates? To her right she noticed a low doorway built into the wall.

  Missy’s frantic urging and Baby’s pathetic whimpers continued to grow louder, filling her head. How she’d managed to shut it out before was beyond her understanding.

  “Quiet! I can’t think,” she hissed as she stepped into a small dark room.

  “Pardon?” The guard inside, the same one she’d encountered once before on the wall walk, looked up in surprise from the floor where he sat rubbing a cloth up and down the length of a sword.

  “My dog’s caught outside the gates. I need you to open them.”

  He shook his head, a patronizing smile lighting his face before he returned his attention to the weapon in his lap. “I canna open the gates without the man on the wall gives me leave. It’s orders.”

  “Look.” She paused, searching her mind for the man’s name. “Gregor. Please help me.”

  Again the old man shook his head stubbornly. “Without the order, I’ll no open the gates. Now be a good lass and run along.”

  If one more person told Ellie to “be a good lass” today, she was going to scream. She clenched her teeth against the irritation she felt and looked around the little room. Mounted on the wall were a series of gears with a large chain looped around them leading to what looked like the steering wheel on a pirate ship. That had to be what she wanted.

  Fine. They wouldn’t help? She’d damn well do it herself.

  Ellie threw herself at the wheel, pulling down with all her strength.

  It didn’t budge.

  “Here now!” Gregor yelled, on his feet amazingly fast for such a large man.

  Though he grabbed her around the waist and pulled, she held on for all she was worth.

  “Open the damn gate!” she shouted over his rumblings to let go.

  “What have we here?” Dair’s huge shoulders filled the small doorway as he entered. “Unhand the lady, Gregor. What would yer missus be thinking of you now?”

  “She’s trying to raise the gates,” the guard huffed, backing away.

  Ellie kept her hands clenched on the wheel, watching the two men. “My dog is trapped outside the gates. He needs me. And these…” She floundered for something appropriately harsh to call the guards who frustrated her efforts. “These men won’t listen to me.”

  Dair’s lips rolled in as if he bit them to keep from smiling and he quickly looked down at the floor. When he lifted his head, his expression was blank. “Gregor, lift the portcullis for the lady.”

  “I canna. The MacPherson gave us strict orders after the shepherds reported Gilberd’s disappearance. We’re no to open the gates without…” The old guard sputtered.

  “On my authority, Gregor. Lift the grates. Milady? May I escort you out to retrieve yer animal?” Dair lifted an elbow, offering his arm.

  Ellie backed away from the wheel, watching as Gregor slapped a lever before easily turning the crank.

  “Well, no wonder,” she muttered as she took Dair’s arm and tried to reclaim some modicum of dignity, grateful Caden wasn’t around to see this latest demonstration of her inappropriate behavior.r />
  Through the first gate, she let go of Dair’s arm and ran to the far gate, bending to slip under as it opened.

  Baby lifted his head, panting.

  “You poor thing. You’re exhausted. She dropped to her knees and cuddled the dog’s head in her lap. He shouldn’t be here. He was supposed to be watching over Caden. The realization sent a lurch through her stomach even before she asked the obvious question.

  “What’s wrong, Baby? What’s happened to Caden?”

  “I willna allow it.” Dair crossed his arms in front of him. “It’s no proper for a lady.”

  Ellie clasped her hands in her lap, counting to ten to keep her temper in check for at least the hundredth time since she’d walked into this room. She had to remember the mind-set of the men in this day and age. Alasdair Maxwell couldn’t help acting like a medieval macho knuckle-dragger. It’s what he was.

  “Mayhap you can follow the animal, Dair. Just to see if it’s even the truth.” Alycie spoke from her seat against the wall.

  Rosalyn sat across the desk from Ellie, her own hands clenched tightly enough her fingers had lost their color. She looked up and captured Ellie’s gaze, as if she desperately searched for some solution to their troubles. Some solution that could only come from Ellie.

  “Well, crap,” Ellie muttered rising from her chair and taking a deep breath. The knuckle-dragger was just going to have to get over himself. “It is the truth. Don’t bother asking how I know. You’re simply going to have to trust me on this one. And no, you can’t just follow the dog. I’m going.”

  She’d made up her mind. For all she knew, this was what she’d been sent to do. And she certainly didn’t intend to blow the opportunity to get home if it was. More important, Caden needed help and he was going to get it. From her. He believed in her enough to have sent the dog with a message asking for help and she wasn’t going to let him down.

  “It’s no proper…” Dair began his litany again.

  Her counting and clenching were at an end. The anger she’d contained so “properly” bubbled over. “What happened to you being pledged to my service?”

  She waited only a moment, glaring at the silent knight. “Yeah, I thought as much. Listen to me, soldier boy. I don’t give a rat’s ass about ‘proper.’ I’m going after Caden if it hairlips every cow in the state of Texas, and you can either come with me or not. Your choice.”