[Highland Heartbeats 05.0] A Captain's Heart

by Aileen Adams

  She had counted on him to keep her safe—on all of them, really. She had no way to defend herself, nothing but the few tricks he’d taught her. They wouldn’t serve when she was surrounded by three or four men, all intent on spiriting her away.

  She had counted on him, and he had let her down. Just as he’d vowed never to do.

  He rose, fists still clenched tight at his sides. “We’re going to find her,” he muttered, gazing out over the wide expanse of woods around them.

  “We are,” Hugh agreed.

  “And I’m going to kill him.”

  “I would expect nothing less, brother.” Hugh jumped into action, sending the four men out in all directions, telling them to report back the moment they found a set of tracks which looked to lead away from the camp.

  “Derek?” Broc looked up at him, watching as he paced. “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you. If I had, we would know that he might be following, or he might not have had a reason to follow, if you had worked things out with him back in the village.”

  “There was nothing to work out, not in any way he would agree to,” Derek muttered. She was out there somewhere. She had to be. She would be alive and waiting for him, and he wouldn’t let her down again.

  “Even so, if I hadn’t pulled you aside to talk about him…”

  “Enough.” He didn’t mean to sound so sharp, but that was what it took to silence his friend. “I’m telling you there’s nothing to be sorry for. You didn’t make any of this happen. He did this.”

  And so did I, he added silently, berating himself beyond all measure. It was his fault for getting involved with the man without knowing the first thing about him. He slammed his fist into his open palm, knowing there wasn’t enough physical pain in the world to drive away the pain in his head.

  A high, sharp whistle sounded out—the signal from one of Hugh’s men.

  His heart leapt.

  It hadn’t taken long at all to locate the tracks. There could still be hope of finding her before the worst happened.

  “Will you be all right here?” he asked Broc.

  “I’m going with you.” Broc struggled to his feet, swaying once he reached them.

  “No, you’re not. You’re going to stay here and watch what’s left of the horses, and we’re going to come back for you when it’s over.”

  “But—”

  “No buts,” Derek snapped. “You’re wounded, you’re unsteady, and I can’t have you slowing us down. Captain’s orders.”

  Broc winced, but offered no further argument. “Aye, aye,” he muttered, sliding to the ground with his back against a sturdy tree.

  Derek mounted his gelding and trotted off in the direction from which the signal came. Hugh met him halfway, and the two of them rode together to where his men had gathered, all of them looking at the ground.

  “Here,” one of them said, crouching and pointing. “They’re trying to be more careful now.”

  “Aye,” another agreed. “Like as not they heard us speaking of the tracks they left last night.”

  “They have to have at least one skilled huntsman among them,” Derek observed, following the deep tracks into a thicket of closely grouped trees which led even deeper into the woods. “One of them knows what he’s doing and is trying to keep the others in line. Whether they heed his advice is another story.”

  “There are still the same-sized tracks,” Hugh pointed out. “Nothing smaller, like a woman would make.”

  Derek nodded, his jaw tightening at the image his brother’s observation called up. “Aye. They’re likely carrying her. Perhaps over their shoulder. Notice there aren’t any horseshoe tracks. Only feet. They must have tied the horses off somewhere else and are carrying her back to that place. And since she didn’t make a sound that any of us could hear, they must have hit her as they did Broc.”

  “Or gagged her. You don’t know that they’ve harmed her.”

  “They’re harming her, regardless.” He didn’t want to hear Hugh’s attempts at softening what was happening. “We’re wasting time, waiting here, trying to make sense of how many there are and how they’re traveling. She’s waiting for me to come for her. I have to find her.”

  “Don’t rush into this!” Hugh grasped his arm in a vain attempt to hold him in place.

  Derek wrenched himself from his brother’s grasp. “Give me a weapon better than this.” He motioned to the dirk at his waist.

  “I’m going with you, naturally. We all are. You’ll be well-protected.”

  “I don’t want you to protect me. I want you to arm me so I can protect myself. If you won’t, I’ll use this and get on with it.” He found the tracks and set about following them.

  The other horses followed behind, all of them taking their time to be certain the tracks would be left untouched and easier to follow.

  31

  The first thing she saw on opening her eyes was the ground.

  She was bouncing. Hard. To the point where it made her sick to her stomach. The dried meat she’d feasted on the day before hadn’t been appetizing on the way down. She couldn’t imagine it would be much more delicious on coming back up.

  But where was she? It was difficult to say, and even more difficult to understand why she seemed to be upside down, wherever she was.

  Bounce, bounce. Bounce, bounce.

  A deeply unpleasant aroma hit her nose, adding to the growing nausea. What the…?

  She realized she was bouncing against the back of a rather large, decidedly sweaty, murderously odorous man who seemed to care little for her condition as he allowed her to flop about like a sack of potatoes.

  A scream threatened to tear itself from her throat as the severity of her situation became clear. It all came back in a rush: once again, a hand over her mouth. The feeling that she was cornered, trapped like an animal, and alone.

  With Derek much too far away to offer help.

  And then…

  She must have fainted, because she remembered nothing else.

  Or perhaps they’d hit her? There was little way for her to tell if she was injured, still flopping around as loosely as she could over the shoulder of the brute carrying her through the woods.

  Instinct told her to pretend to be unconscious, to let them take her where they would. She could use the element of surprise to catch them off guard and perhaps escape once they put her down.

  But escape to where? How was there any hope of escape when she didn’t know where she was?

  Beatrice spoke up, louder and clearer than ever.

  Pay attention to where you are now!

  She would have to thank her sister when they saw each other again.

  If they did.

  She turned her head ever so slightly, making sure there was no one off to the side who might catch sight of her open eyes before observing her surroundings. It provided welcome relief from the stench of the man whose shoulder she hung over, too, fresh air greeting her and helping clear her head a bit.

  The trees were thinner here, spaced farther apart than they’d been before. Mountains stretched out in the distance, to the right of the man carrying her. If she managed to run, she would keep the mountains to her left.

  She saw a Y-shaped tree which looked as though lightning had struck and split it, and farther up a series of boulders. She squeezed her eyes shut each time she saw something like this, wishing to seal it in her memory.

  There were no voices, no other footsteps. Only the sounds she had already become accustomed to over the last day of travel: twittering birds, the scurrying of squirrels and other small creatures who skittered over the needles and leaves which had fallen before the winter and had rested under the snow.

  She called again on what she’d done to protect herself while traveling to Silloth. Water was important. It kept a person alive. She had always kept her ears trained to the sound of flowing water.

  She closed her eyes again, focusing all of her attention, pushing away the sound of heavy footprints and heavier bre
athing in favor of the trickling or rushing of water.

  And there it was, somewhere to her right, opposite the mountains, what sounded like a stream. Too far away for her know exactly where it was, and she was afraid to turn her head in that direction in case someone was watching.

  It seemed hopeless. How would she ever…?

  “You’ve finally caught up.”

  Her heart froze at the sound of the deep, rough voice. She went rigid out of fear and surprise, then reminded herself to go limp again. They had to believe she was unaware of what was happening.

  “She looks light, but she gets heavier the longer one walks,” the man who carried her complained through gasps for breath.

  “If ye’d taken any longer, I might have believed you stopped off to get to know the lass a little better.”

  Several men laughed at this, including the one who carried her.

  The thought alone was enough to make her skin crawl.

  Who were these fiends? How many of them were there? She wished she knew. Would it help to know more about them? Should she wait, continue to feign unconsciousness?

  Did she have that sort of time to waste?

  “I need to put her down.”

  She kept her eyes closed and deliberately let her body sag heavier than ever as the brute bent at the waist. She flopped back, then onto her side in a thick pile of leaves and twigs.

  It took all of her self-control to stay still as sharp twigs poked at her in a dozen places. She could only imagine what might be burrowed under the makeshift bed she’d been dropped on and prayed it didn’t come out to visit.

  “Hmm…”

  She sensed someone moving quite close to her, crouching beside her. Hair had loosened from her braid, covering half her face—when a finger swept over her cheek to brush the hair aside, she bit her tongue to keep from screaming.

  “A pretty thing,” the man who’d touched her decided. He was the one with the deep voice, the one who had spoken of her captor getting to know her better. Was he the leader? He spoke with authority.

  “Aye. It’s easy to see why he brought her with him,” another of the men agreed before laughing nastily.

  “He’ll come for her. He’s certain to.”

  “You’re so sure?” the deep-voiced man asked, still near her.

  “Wouldn’t you? There isn’t much I wouldn’t do for a golden-headed wench like this one. Ripe and tasty…”

  A low, guttural chuckle accompanied this.

  Margery’s blood froze.

  What were they going to do to her while they waited? She couldn’t afford to find out.

  The man beside her stood, shifting his weight with a groan as he did. “Lass. Why don’t you open your eyes now? I know you can hear us.”

  Oh, no! Should she keep pretending? Should she do as he ordered?

  A sharp nudge to her ribs made her gasp.

  “I said, open your eyes.”

  She did, her eyelids snapping open so she could glare at the beast who’d kicked her. Who had dared to touch her.

  “I thought so,” he sneered.

  He was a very large man, tall and extremely round. His eyes were small, set deep in his fleshy face, and they watched her with no trace of kindness.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, sitting up, brushing the leaves and dirt from her hair with all the dignity she could muster. There were four of them in total, gathered around her in a half circle.

  She wanted to curl into a ball, to beg them not to hurt her, to plead for her life.

  What she wanted more was to scream and fight and hurt every single one of them.

  And what she absolutely didn’t want was to let them see how terrified she was.

  So there was no curling up in a ball. No begging. She looked at each of them in turn, holding their gaze, defying them to look away first.

  And all of them did, except the leader. He held her gaze for a long moment before speaking.

  “What are we doing? It’s fairly easy to understand, lass. I have business to finish with Mr. McInnis, a coward who ran away before I could get what’s coming to me.”

  “What do you think is coming to you?” she stalled, her mind running in all directions as she struggled to make sense.

  It was because of Derek and his business, probably the business that had brought him to the village.

  He would come for her, just the way her captors had predicted. He might already be on his way. Did he know there were so many waiting for him? Would Hugh and the others be with him?

  Was she worth the fight that was to come?

  He crouched again, groaning softly as he did. She wondered if he even knew he made such noises while moving. Her mother had groaned and grunted that way when she or Beatrice had helped her move about in bed, but she’d been sick. Dying. This man was merely over-fond of eating.

  “What’s coming to me, lassie, are the ships he promised me.”

  “Promised you?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “Aye!” he barked, making her gasp. “He promised me. Told me he was looking to sell. And then, what did he do? He changed his mind. Reneged on his word. Ran off without another word, the lying coward.”

  That didn’t sound like Derek. Not at all. “He wouldn’t lie. And it was his right to do with his ships as he saw fit.”

  The sharp crack of a large hand against her cheek surprised her more than the flash of pain which sent her head snapping back. The pain bloomed, spreading across her face, sending stars exploding behind her eyes.

  “Nobody talks back to me, lassie, least of all a little slip of a thing in your position.” He spat on the ground, just short of the hand she used to prop herself up while the other covered her cheek.

  “How dare you?” she hissed, spitting at the hand.

  It was something she’d never done before, something a woman like her never did, but she was incensed enough and disgusted enough to forget herself.

  “Spare me the speeches. I haven’t the time.” He stood again, looking around at the clearing in which they’d taken refuge.

  There were horses off to the side, tied among the trees and happily drinking from a bucket placed before them. The sound of running water was louder than before, meaning the stream was closer.

  Would that her captors could bathe in that stream, perhaps wash their clothing in it.

  “We’ll camp here again, if we must,” he decided, “though the day is young. We might be able to settle this long before the sun sets.”

  “How do you plan to settle things?” she asked, lowering her hand from the side of her face. Her cheek throbbed, and she could only imagine the bruise which would be left behind, but she wanted the brute to see what he’d done to her and certainly didn’t want to give away her pain.

  “That’s none of your affair,” he hissed.

  “Considering the way you’ve kidnapped me to bring him to you, I believe it is.”

  He appeared to think this over, finally smiling. “I suppose you have a point, lass. But you’ll have to be patient and see what I have planned for your lad.”

  Her heart sank like a stone. Derek, hurt. Perhaps worse than that.

  She couldn’t allow him to have his way.

  This man had laid a trap for Derek and the others. That had to be what he was planning. And he would use her to force Derek into giving him what he wanted.

  He didn’t know Derek at all if he thought that would work.

  Then again…

  Derek loved her. He’d told her so.

  He might be willing to give in if it meant ensuring her safety.

  But that would mean allowing him to lose everything he had worked so hard to build. It didn’t take much reasoning to conclude that this man wouldn’t give Derek money in return for the ships. He would be left with nothing.

  “Come on. On your feet.” He nodded, signaling two of his men to take her under the arms and haul her upright.

  They were all dressed similarly, in stained tunics and loose trou
sers, all of them looking worn and unhealthy. Nothing like Derek or Broc.

  She could see why Derek had refused to sell to this man. They were as different as night from day.

  For one, Derek would never kidnap a woman. Or slap her.

  For one brief moment, she hoped he killed the man for it. Sinful though she knew it was, the impulse couldn’t be helped.

  Once on her feet, she shook off the hands of the two men and faced their leader with more bravery than she truly felt.

  “Tie her up,” he muttered, eyes never leaving hers.

  Beatrice’s voice rang out in her head, as loudly as it ever had.

  No! Do not allow this!

  She knew it without being told that if they managed to bind her, there would be nothing she could do to protect herself from them.

  She felt their eyes on her, not the leader’s, but his men. She’d felt the weight of such stares in her short time at the tavern, knew what was on their minds and how much easier it would be for them to get what they wanted once her hands and feet were bound.

  One of the others went to the horses, pulling a length of rope out of a saddle bag. Her heart took off at a gallop, her breath suddenly coming short and fast. No, no, she couldn’t allow it. She was running out of time.

  There was only one thing to do.

  Do not panic, Derek reminded her.

  She wouldn’t. It would mean letting him down, and she couldn’t do that. She needed to find her way back to him, to tell him what had happened and what his enemies had planned for him.

  The first of them to reach for her got a knee in his private parts. He screamed a curse, doubling over as he staggered back and fell on his rear end.

  She used the confusion to her advantage and bolted, running straight for the path which had led her to the clearing.

  “Get her!” the leader screamed, clearly too large to run as fast as she could.

  That left two of them still able to give chase.

  Go, go, go!

  She couldn’t risk looking over her shoulder, couldn’t slow down for even a moment. If they caught up with her, they would hurt her for sure.

  The mountains were to her left, the running water to her right. She ducked and dodged, her feet flying over the leaf-strewn ground as she searched for the group of boulders which she’d noted earlier. It couldn’t have been very far, as she was running and the man who’d carried her had been merely walking.