by Sky Winters
On hearing the noise, the landlady of the Inn, Mrs. MacBrayne rushed out to see what was afoot. She was a cheerful, plump looking woman with a red nose, who would settle for no nonsense in her establishment. On seeing the poor girl’s plight, she quickly ushered the two into a private room at the back of the place, where they could eat their refreshments in peace, away from prying eyes. On bringing two glasses of warming ale to the table, Agnes MacBrayne sat with the girls, intrigued to know their story.
Arabella soon told her the details of her forthcoming marriage to Lord Stewart and Agnes wrinkled her colourful nose.
"Lord Stewart. Aye, I have heard folk speak of him. He's a cold fish from what I have heard. But don't ye take any notice of me, my loves. I'm sure he will make ye a good and proper husband. He's rich enough, that's for sure. Many a man has been changed through marriage."
She looked sadly across at the young woman.
"And many a maid too if I'm not mistaken, still I'm surprised you are travelling alone, two unescorted ladies with only a coachman for protection?"
"Papa said we would be safe. That no one would dare to harm the future bride of Lord Stewart- he is too powerful and rich a man to cross."
"With wealth and power also comes enemies, and Lord Stewart has many of those. There are men that would like to harm him. He has stolen land that does not belong to him and imprisoned men that have stood against him. It does not tell a pretty story I am afraid, and you must be always on your guard."
Arabella felt a cold shiver inside. She had not thought how vulnerable she and Matilda were, and her father had never mentioned the troubles. She could not believe that the man she was about to marry could be so wicked. It was probably all lies and gossip anyway.
Soon it was time to climb back into the carriage. The coachman, Thomas, had been drinking with the men outside, and she wondered what they had been talking about. The less people knew about her journey until they were safe within the castle walls the better, and she urged him to continue their journey as quickly as possible.
The light was almost fading and there would be many more hours until they reached their destination.
The landscape had changed from the gentle hills of the Lowlands, and now they were among the barren heather clad moors of the Highlands. Great mountains loomed above them, their white caps just distinguishable in the growing darkness. Mountain streams cascaded down the rocky surfaces, and the smell of pine and wild heather filled the air.
The two girls had fallen into a silent stupor as they watched the shadowy world pass by the little carriage window. Soon they were both fast asleep.
A sudden jolt of the carriage woke them simultaneously and Matilda was thrown into the lap of Arabella. The horses had stopped and there was an eerie silence around them. Arabella shouted out to the coachman to see what was happening, but there was no reply. After a short while she opened the window and poked her head out into the night air. The coachman was not at his station and the girl felt the fear rise in the pit of her stomach. Maybe he had to answer a call of nature and had fled to the bushes to relieve himself. That must be the case. She looked back at Matilda, pale and wide eyed in the corner of the carriage.
"It's alright Matilda, he won't have gone far. Relieving himself of all of that ale he drank at lunchtime no doubt," she tried to laugh but her humour did not lighten the mood, and the young maid grabbed at her Mistresses hand for comfort.
"Whatever shall we do Miss?" Matilda was almost crying.
Being the elder of the two, Arabella felt she was the one that had to be brave for both of them. Indeed she was almost a married woman and felt it only right that she should take charge of the situation. Opening the carriage door she placed her foot on the step.
'Where are you going, don’t leave me," The maid’s voice was small and weak.
"Don't be silly Matilda. I won't be long. I am going to find out what has happened to Thomas. Stay here or I may lose you."
Hopping down onto the ground Arabella walked around to the front of the carriage to where the horses stood, nibbling contentedly at the grass. They appeared calm and she was sure everything would be alright.
The air was chill and her breath made white patterns against the darkening sky. There were thick clumps of forest surrounding the rough road on both sides and the tall shadows of the tree’s rose menacingly all around her.
An owl hooted in a distant tree, but everything else was still, almost too quiet.
Stepping towards the undergrowth she could feel the wetness of the grass start to seep into her thin slippers, staining the silk with dark patches. There was a rustle in the bushes to her right and she stood still peering into the gloom, the loss of vision putting her at a disadvantage.
A hand was around her mouth before she had time to scream, as a strong arm grabbed her roughly around the waist and dragged her under the cover of the trees.
Her feet hardly touched the ground as she was lifted and pulled to a clearing set some way back from the road where she was roughly dropped to the floor. The sudden drop knocked the wind out of her sails and she caught her knee on a sharp stone, causing her to wince.
“Careful with the goods,” a gruff voice shouted and the air was filled with the sound of vulgar laughter.
Picking herself up as daintily as she could under the circumstances, Lady Arabella looked around. They were a motley looking lot of men, dirty mainly, and wearing the traditional tartan of the area or plain breeches and boots. Even the stable lads at home looked better than this rough –hewn lot and she tried to lift up her head and hide the fact that her heart was stammering inside her chest.
Another of the men let out a low whistle and walked towards her. She thought she recognised him as one of the men from the Inn.
“Haven’t we a pretty little thing ‘ere then? Lord Stewart may be a bastard but he certainly knows how to choose a bride.”
Approaching her, the man lifted his hand to her face and attempted to pull a strand of dishevelled hair away from her cheek, to get a better look at the stunning girl. Instinctively Arabella pushed his hand away, she did not want to be prodded and poked by such a person.
The man’s smiling face quickly turned to anger as he grabbed at her wrist and wrenched her near to him.
“See my lads, we have a cat here that will scratch and claw if we are not careful. I wonder if Lord Stewart knows what he is letting himself in for. Maybe we ought to teach this kitten to curb her claws, I’m sure the laird would be very grateful for our instruction?”
Grabbing her other arm he pulled her face closely to his. She almost wretched at the smell of rotting teeth and stale sweat. His mouth was wet and greasy, and tiny flecks of spittle bubbled on his lips with excitement. Soon his fleshy lips were on hers to hoots of encouragement from the other men. Arabella thought she would die there and then and almost fainted with the sensation. The wet and rubbery mouth engulfed her own delicate lips as his thick and slobbering tongue probed into the depths of her mouth. She could hardly breathe and feared she would suffocate, but eventually she was released and pushed back onto the hard ground.
The pack of men had now gathered all around her, there were about a dozen in number and all were looking at her with greedy and lustful eyes, as if she were some kind of animal. Her bosom was heaving in its tight trappings and she thought her heart would burst.
At last she found her voice.
“Don’t you dare touch me? I am betrothed to Lord Stewart and he will see you all hanged if you dare harm even a hair on my head.” Her voice was shaking as she defiantly looked back at the group.
She thought she had made an impact until the man who had kissed her broke out into a sly grin.
“We don’t want to hurt her do we boys? We just want to have a little fun.” His eyes were steely and full of desire as he approached her. She started to stand but he grabbed her and held her to the floor. His hand reached up to her breasts and pawed at the soft flesh, licking his lips in anticipation.
/> “Come and hold her down boys whilst I teach her a lesson.”
Two men approached and one took her arms and the other her legs, spreading them slightly apart.
She felt a hand underneath her woollen dress, the dirty fingernails digging into her skin as they crept further and further up towards her inner thigh and intimate places.
Arabella wanted to scream for help, but a filthy hand was pressed over her mouth so only a small muffled cry could be heard. It was no use, there was no-one to hear her anyway and it was useless to struggle against the strength of these men.
The first man had now kneeled down beside her and was pulling at the fastening of his breeches. His fleshy cock fell out of the dark material, a floppy, half solid thing that he grasped in his hands and started tugging. The other men shouted in approval and the girl tried to avert her eyes.
“She’s never such a thing in her life, look how it offends the ladies eyes.”
“I’m not surprised,” shouted another. Billy’s is a poor specimen, here she needs a real man,” and with that the man from earlier with the eye patch started to loosen his clothing. His cock was thicker and much larger than the others and Arabella’s eyes widened in fear.
“See, she likes mine much better, see how the thought of it makes her eyes shine.”
Another round of crude laughter ensued as the man with the hefty manhood stepped near her.
“Now, let’s get down to business”
As he knelt beside her and started to lift up her dress, there was a shout from the back.
“Stop that ye heathens, stop that at once.”
A man stepped forward into the clearing. He was handsome and not like the rest and although his clothes looked worn and in need of some service, he looked cleaner and more respectable than the others. He had with him an air of authority and the others seemed almost afraid of him.
“What on earth are you doing? Are ye but animals? Get away from the poor girl now. The instructions were not to harm her. She is to be used as a bargaining tool against Lord Stewart, not as a plaything to amuse you scum.”
The man with the eye patch rearranged his clothing and stepped forward.
“We did not mean any harm to the girl. We were just having our wee bit of fun.”
Before he could finish his sentence he was knocked by a powerful punch to the floor, leaving his nose bloody and broken.
“Is there anybody else here who was thinking of having their way with this poor lassie?”
The men shuffled their feet and looked away. Their leader was a strong man and no-one wanted to challenge him.
Arabella looked up gratefully. The man stood before her was definitely handsome, not in a sharp, cool way like Andrew Stewart, but in a more rugged and manly fashion. His hair was dark with an auburn glint, and fell in waves upon his shoulders. His eyes were a smouldering deep brown and his jaw square, with just the hint of a dimple. In any other mood she would have felt subdued under his quiet gaze, now she was afraid and angry and wanted to be away from here and back on her journey to Inverness.
“If you will help me up Sir, I would like to be on my way,” she tried to be brave but couldn’t help her bottom lip from wavering. The man held out a strong arm and took hold of her hand, delicate and slight in his and pulled her to her feet.
Straightening out her dress and brushing back her hair she looked the young man in the eye. “And what is your name Sir?”
He couldn’t help but smile at the brave young woman stood in front of him. She was very beautiful and her eyes glimmered with emotion.
“My name is James Macadam Miss,” he bowed politely and held out his hand for hers which she declined. Although he was charming he was still one of them and therefore could not be trusted.
“Well Mr Macadam, my future husband, Lord Andrew Stewart will be very grateful for your intervention to save me, and I am sure that when I am safely within his castle walls he will reward you handsomely.”
The men stood around her laughed incredulously and James held up his hand to silence them.
“I am afraid that is not quite how Lord Stewart will see it. You see, these lands and those around as far as the eye can see belonged to my clan, back to my father and his father’s father before him. Generations of Macadam’s have owned and lived in this land without conflict for hundreds of years, that is until your beloved Laird took everything away from my family by force, and burned our forests.”
“I’m sure there must be some mistake?”
“There is no mistake my Lady. As we speak my father is held prisoner in the Castle up in Inverness. He is an elderly man that should not be locked up in a cold and damp cell; and his crime? To speak out against your future husband for taking and destroying our lands.”
His brown eyes were fiery with an amber glow as he spoke, the words pulled from the depth of his heart.
Arabella stood quietly for a moment. James Macadam spoke with such conviction about Lord Stewart that she didn’t know quite what to think. His speech had caught her off guard, and any feeling of protection she thought she might have under the name of Lord Stewart was quickly diminishing. Hiding a shaking hand behind her back and jutting out her chin, she continued in the best way she could.
“That maybe so Sir, but what my future husband has or has not done cannot be blamed upon myself. I am innocent of this act but can promise that on my safe return to Inverness, I will put in a good word for you and your father and this mis-understanding can be put right.”
“Mis-understanding?” James shook his head sadly, as the men scoffed at her comments.
“I am afraid your ladyship that you will have to be our prisoner for the moment. The only way to bargain with Andrew Stewart is through something he loves, and apart from money, these things are rare indeed. It was unfortunate for you that you happened to stop at the very Inn in which my men drinking. Your driver was easily bribed.”
“Thomas?” Arabella was shocked to know that her father’s trusted servant had been party to such a wicked act.
“Don’t be too hard on the man. We made him an offer he could not refuse”
“And where is Thomas now?”
“We have sent him back with the horses to Stirling. I have told him to tell your parents that no harm will come to you and you will soon be returned to Lord Stewart.”
“And what of Matilda, my maid?” The thought of her young maid had slipped her mind completely and she felt responsible for the wretched girl.
“Do not worry, she was sat safely waiting in the carriage. I gave her a start and she started weeping, saying she would not leave without you. She is on the road back to Stirling as we speak.”
Arabella could imagine her father’s reaction when the coach returned. Her mother would probably faint.
“My father will not let this lie either; he will come looking for you.”
“My quarrel is not with your father but with Andrew Stewart, I would not like to harm an innocent man, but if your father attacks then we must fight back.”
Her father was not a warring man and he would be no match for James. He would not do anything but pray for divine intervention. Her position grew more hopeless by the minute and she could feel her bottom lip start to tremor once more. This time, there was no holding back and the tears slid down her pretty cheeks as she started to sob.
James was not used to women crying, he was used to living with his men, yet he was not hardened to her grief. She was a beautiful young woman and he was not unaware of the fact, and to see the poor thing weeping before him, stirred his heart.
His voice was gentle as he reached for her arm.
“Come Arabella, I promise that we will not hurt you. I will be personally responsible for your safety and wellbeing at all times. Now it is getting late and we must get back to the camp. You will feel better after food and a rest.”
Arabella was reluctant to take his offered hand but she had no choice in the matter. She was tired and wished the business over quickly.
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James threw her over a pair of men’s breeches and a woollen cloak to wear. She was hardly dressed for riding, and it would look better if she was dressed more like them. It would remove the worry of suspicious glances that her appearance might spark.
“We’re going to have to do something with that long hair of yours too,” and with that James produced a leather cord and gently gathered the hair at her nape and fastened it securely. Passing her a black cap to complete the outfit she changed behind a thicket of trees.
When she finally emerged she looked just like a handsome young boy. Only her blossoming figure gave her away and that would be well hidden beneath a flowing cloak.
Taking her hand he led her to where his horse was patiently waiting, a magnificent black stallion called Jet with a white star marking on its nose. He helped her up and she sat beside him, refusing at first put her arms about his waist as they galloped through the dark night, but as they rode faster through the darkness she found she had to cling on to him to keep her balance, her arms tight around his firm and muscular body. At first she buried her head deep into his back, afraid of the speed and the dark shadows all around her. But he was a good horseman and eventually she relaxed and opened her eyes, enjoying the thrill of the ride. She had never felt so liberated.
Too soon they arrived at the camp, a makeshift place that had been the men’s home for a few days. A few shelters had been made from branches and leaves, to offer some protection from the elements. A few of the men had already started a fire that was already blazing a magnificent cornucopia of colours; deep gold and amber against the black canvas of night. A large cooking pot had been hung over the flames and a delicious smell drifted through the air.
Arabella was still reluctant to become civil with the men, especially the ones that had tried to molest her. James had been kind, but he was the sworn enemy of her betrothed, and it would not be seemly to form any kind of relationship with him.
She was given the best seat by the fire and several woollen blankets were laid out for her to sit on. The warmth penetrated her bones and she curled her slippered toes towards the heat. Tired and hungry she hastily accepted the wooden bowl of broth accompanied by a dense chunk of dark coloured bread. The soup was mutton; her favourite, and she had soon devoured the lot, the fresh air adding to her appetite. Although simple, it was one of the tastiest dishes she had eaten for a long time.
