Highlander's Choice

by Annis, Dawn

  Lady Cameron had included warm food and ale to sup on tonight as well as porridge and oat cakes for the morning. Pleased to discover the food wrapped in several warm blankets, Callum made the closest thing to a proper bed as he could. They ate their fill and snuggled down deep into the quilts. Thea fell asleep, clinging to Callum. He slept the sleep of a warrior on alert.

  The next morning, Callum and Thea returned despite the Cameron’s order. He would not go farther on their journey with nothing in hand. He would retrieve his property. They met Dougal as they approached the stable.

  “Ye are takin’ a chance showin’ yer face this morn.”

  “I will no leave without my horse. Otherwise, Thea and I are vulnerable.” His voice remained steady, the wrath of the Cameron in his mind. The laird told him to get off his lands, but he, the MacLeod, wouldn’t leave until he was damn well ready to.

  “Edmund is checkin’ to see how Willie and Alister fare.” Dougal wiped his lips with his hand. “I feart for Willie.”

  “Aye,” Callum said. He had come to care about Willie, but if Willie’s injuries meant he and Thea were going to stay longer than they must, he would dump the MacDonalds in an instant to have her home. Callum didn’t trust the MacDonalds, and the Camerons even less. He and Thea were surrounded by the enemy, and the truce was shaky at best. He needed to leave before the laird knew he was about. The MacDonalds could have the wagon. They would need it.

  Edmund joined them, interrupting Callum’s thoughts.

  “How do the lads fare?” Dougal stroked a horse’s nose.

  “They be a sight better. Willie is hurt bad, but they should be able to travel soon.”

  Callum wiped his hand across the back of his neck. “Can they ride?”

  “Now, yer no thinkin’ o’ leavin’ us here,” Dougal said as he stood straighter to look Callum in the eye. He couldn’t quite do it, but his meaning wasn’t lost on Callum. “We can travel the distance on our own if ye have mind to leave us. ’Twould be easier if ye dinna.”

  “Nay, I am a man o’ my word.” Callum gazed at the sky, regretting his decision to help the MacDonalds. “I will see ye to yer seat, but we canna stay longer than need be. I am on borrowed time as I stand. The Cameron will no be lenient.”

  “Ye dinna have to worry about me,” Edmund mumbled, digging the toe of his boot into the dirt.

  “What are ye sayin’, lad?” Dougal clapped his clansman on the back.

  Edmund cleared his throat. “I dinna want the MacLeod to help me. I am stayin’ here a wee bit longer. I have worked it out with the Cameron.”

  “Yer daft. Ye have accepted his help afore now. We will have need o’ ye.” Dougal grabbed Edmund by the shoulder.

  “If the lad wants to stay, no doubt, we will get along without him,” Callum said, trying to diffuse Dougal’s building anger.

  “Nay! We will no get along.” Dougal gave Callum a disgusted look. “Edmund, ye have to come with us. Ye will die by yer lonesome. Sassenach are still out there.”

  “I will come in a wee while. Ye havena better chance than I.” He kicked the dirt. “I canna face the dame. She expected us to win the day or die in our tracks. I dinna either.” Edmund stalked off behind the stables.

  “Let him be for now,” Callum said as Dougal started to go after him.

  “Mayhap yer right. A wee bit o’ time,” Dougal said as he watched Edmund, his worry clear.

  Willie and Alister were loaded into the back of the wagon. Dougal and Callum put the last of the supplies around the injured men. After one last tug of the harness, Callum helped Thea up onto the wagon. Edmund returned to see them off, and Dougal tried one last time to convince Edmund to ride with them to no avail.

  They heard shouts as Callum took the reins and guided the horse across the courtyard. Bloodied men staggered into the yard by the dozens. Those around the stable shouted for help. People poured out of the castle. The Cameron swaggered into the courtyard. The Cameron clan surrounded the injured men. All told the same story, their brothers, fathers, uncles, and even sons murdered on the battlefields of Culloden.

  “They had us from the start,” one man gurgled, holding his life in his hand as he pressed against a wound on his throat.

  “The son o’ a bitch Stuart left us to die,” another raged.

  Callum knew their plight. He’d witnessed the atrocity named Charles Stuart. Men continued to arrive, wounded and dead. Women ran to meet them, sobbing their relief or their anguish.

  One man recognized Callum. “Ye had the right o’ it, MacLeod.”

  Callum acknowledged him with a nod, took hold of the reins, and slapped them on the rump of the horse, unwilling to reply.

  Chapter 13

  The MacDonald scouts had not only met Callum as he and his party crossed their lands but harassed Callum and Thea each step to the seat.

  When they arrived, Dougal’s father walked alongside the horses and called to him, “Dougal, ’tis fine to see ye, lad. Come awa’ from the MacLeod, or ye will find no mercy from Herself.”

  Dougal shook his head. “Nay, Da. I have a vow to keep.”

  “Nay to him, I say.” His father pointed a fierce finger at Callum.

  “Aye to him.” Dougal rode beside Callum, refusing to leave.

  Met at the door to the castle by MacDonald clansmen, they were led into the hall and told to wait.

  Weary to the point of collapsing, Callum, his breeks and shirt torn, muddy, and wet, forced himself to stand in the drafty hall, surrounded by MacDonalds. The stone walls rose toward a dripping smoke hole in the wooden ceiling, its beams thick as a man’s body. In the dim light, Thea stood next to him, shivering with cold. Dame MacDonald was not known for her compassion. Callum doubted there would be any this day.

  Although Callum longed to put his arm around Thea, he could not. He would not show weakness to the wretched MacDonald clan. He brushed his hand across the small of Thea’s back. With his touch, she raised herself and stood with her shoulders back. Both needed to show strength in front of the formidable MacDonald dame. Anything less would not be tolerated here.

  Callum gently took hold of Thea’s hand as she swayed on her feet. Traveling through the worn land, she had lost a battle with an English dragoon who had no care she was a woman. He showed only hatred. She was cut badly across her arm before Dougal could step in and slay the man. Dougal, particularly fierce with the battle, slashed at the body long after the Sassenach was dead. He and Callum did their best to stop the flow of blood and bandage the wound.

  Dougal refused to leave Callum and Thea as they waited for the MacDonald. The dame arrived with a regal air. Her thick, graying hair surrounded a once comely face, now lined with age. She shuffled, with the help of a wooden walking stick polished to a high sheen, to the dais. Dame MacDonald’s power was evident in her demeanor and the deference her clan showed her.

  Callum stood tall.

  No comfort was given to either himself or Thea by Dame Flora as she sat on her dais nestled in furs. “Ye have seen my men home.”

  He glowered directly at her. “Aye, though two may no live, I did all I could. They were no injured by my hand.”

  “They were to die at Culloden with their brethren,” she accused, her face rigid and heartless.

  “Many o’ yer men did indeed die at Culloden. The men did no run. They were driven into the trees. I met them there.”

  “Driven by whom? The bastards they were sent to kill? To turn and fight was the right o’ it. Take every last Sassenach to hell if need be.”

  “’Tis true, Dame. We came upon the MacLeod and the MacNichol lass in the forest. The battle lost, there was nowhere to go. Alister and Willie were badly injured. I canna leave my clansmen. The MacLeod agreed to help us and defended us more than once. He gave his word to bring us here, and by damn, he kept hi
s word,” Dougal insisted.

  “Silence! Ye did leave yer clansmen when ye stepped off the battlefield. How many men died because ye ran into the trees?” Dame MacDonald raised her fist, staring at Dougal.

  “Dame, Alister and Willie needed my help. I couldna leave them.”

  “Alister still had fight in him. Willie, too. Ye stole their glory as well as yer own,” she bellowed, batting away his words in disgust.

  “Dougal is tellin’ ye how the situation came to be. I killed Sassenach soldiers. I fought only to protect. The MacNichol lass and yer men were my only concerns,” Callum replied.

  “Then ye, too, should have died,” Dame Flora barked, pointing a thin crooked finger at Callum.

  “Nay. ’Twas no my intention to fight. Ye ken. My circumstances havena to do with yerself. ’Twas an alliance o’ need,” Callum asserted, memories of torn men cutting at his heart.

  “Liar!” A shout came from the hidden crowd surrounding them. Others let out sounds of loathing.

  “Why d’ye call me a liar? I havena need to lie,” Callum challenged as he turned to scan the many faces outside of the firelight, faces he could not see but knew were there.

  “Then ye, too, are a coward.” The MacDonald dame glared at Callum.

  A rumble of voices filled the room.

  “I am no a coward nor a liar,” Callum said, his attention on the Dame of the MacDonalds. “Yers was a fool’s errand. And ye well ken it. I told ye and yer false sovereign long ago the MacLeods wouldna fight with ye aginst the English.”

  “I ken no such thing,” Dame Flora shrieked. She leaned forward into the light, veins contorting her face.

  “And I will no have ye judge upon me. Ye say what ye will. It dinna have power to change my mind. The MacLeods had their own reasons for stayin’ out o’ the fray. I listened to my people. As it turns out, we had the right o’ it. I saw butchery, nothin’ less. Led by a coward who did no stay for the whole o’ it but ran like a scared lad at the first sign o’ trouble. He left men to die with no leadership, no plan, no thought o’ retreat.” Callum spit his disgust.

  “Charles Stuart is yer rightful king. His decisions on the battlefield are to be followed no questioned.” The dame straightened in her furs. Her eyes narrowed upon Thea. “And ye there, lass. What have ye to say on the subject?”

  Thea held the dame’s eye and never wavered. Her clothes were in rags, and streaks of dirt stained her face. She gritted her teeth and held her arm in such a way he knew the long cut hurt cruelly.

  “I saw lines o’ good men runnin’ for their lives, turnin’ to fight only to be cut down. I saw braw men bayoneted as they lie dyin’ in the field, given no chance to live. I, too, am disgusted by the slaughter and the sight o’ a wee man on a great horse wavin’ a wee sword as he slipped past the Sassenach to safety. Were the Scots who followed him so fortunate,” Thea snapped.

  Callum’s chin dipped slightly as one brow shot up. He held his hands in front of his body and lowered his head. The Dame MacDonald had a sharp eye.

  “Our king did what he needed to win another day. How dare ye speak otherwise. He is precious to the Scottish people. He will restore us to our rightful place and rid us o’ the Sassenach scum,” Dame MacDonald ground out between clenched teeth.

  “Yer king is no precious to me. He is a wee bit o’ a bairn who canna wipe his own arse.” Thea spit on the ground.

  Callum’s eyes widened with everyone else’s. God’s blood. She is goin’ to get us killed.

  “Nay, lass. Ye dinna get awa’ with that.” Dame MacDonald motioned toward her men. They stepped toward Thea.

  “Wait.” Callum held his hand to stop them from going farther. “Allow me to take the lass to her da. Her punishment will be severe. There will be no reason to start a clan war over a wee lass and her careless words.”

  The Dame’s face twisted in rage. “I dinna feart a war with the Clan MacLeod or MacNichol.” She flung off her furs and stood. “I say to both clans, I couldna think o’ a better way to spend my time and men.”

  Callum sighed. “I am too damn tired to debate the subject with a woman who canna tell the difference between fightin’ for what is right or fightin’ for reprehensible goals.”

  “Leave my sight and my lands. Dinna come here agin, MacLeod, or I will cut ye where ye stand.”

  MacDonald men swooped in from all sides, taking Callum and Thea roughly by the arms. Thea cried out in pain. Callum shook them off.

  “We can walk on our own. We dinna need yer filthy help.”

  Helping Thea out the door, he saw out of the corner of his eye Prince Charles standing behind the large wooden door. Charlie gave him a smirk and, with a wiggle of fingers, waved goodbye. Callum growled and thought to turn back. The man giggled. A brawny MacDonald pushed him and Thea off the remaining step, effectively hiding the prince from Callum’s view.

  Shoving the men away from Thea and grabbing her hand, Callum led her out into the rain where his horse waited. Her strength gave out, and she sagged against him. Callum hoisted Thea onto the horse and mounted behind her. Hearing her teeth chatter, he settled most of the wet blanket around her shoulders.

  “Nay, ye are icy, too. Wrap it around both o’ us,” she begged.

  “In a wee bit. We need to get off these lands as fast as we can,” he urged, his lips lingering in her ear.

  “Her patience will no last long,” Thea agreed.

  Drenched and cold, they headed for MacLeod lands.

  Water poured down their backs as they rode away from the MacDonald seat and toward home. Thea’s head bobbed against his chest. Callum held her close to his body. His eyes were gritty, his body worn to its limits. They weren’t going to make it back to the MacLeod seat tonight. No with the rain and traveling in the dark.

  “If I mind, there is a huntin’ shelter no far.”

  Thea’s teeth chattered. “Into the glen ahead.”

  “On MacLeod lands. Is it still in use?”

  “Nay, no for many years. Mayhap we should head for Dunvegan.”

  “Nay, we must halt now. The horse canna carry us much farther, and we are worn as well.”

  Callum led the horse off the trail. They needed shelter immediately. Any would be welcome. He had to get Thea out of the weather. She shivered hard against his chest, his own lack of body heat unable to warm her. The horse trudged up the small incline, the strong odor of its wet hair and mud clinging to its back swirling around them.

  Callum was relieved to find the cabin, but disappointment soon followed. Desolation oozed from the structure’s wooden pores. The door hung on its hinges, half open. Gaps showed around the greased-skin paned windows. He hoped the inside was a sight better but doubted it. He and Thea slid off their mount.

  “Wait here. I will take a look.” Callum left Thea outside the door under the overhang while he checked inside.

  The door groaned as Callum forced it completely open. Dirt and debris rained down upon him. He stepped inside to find the place filthy but dry and solid. The damp had not slithered its way in through the gaps in the wood. Callum called Thea in and sat her on a dirty stool by the stone fireplace. Wood piled high against the wall smelled rotted but dry. Callum hurried outside and grabbed a large, pronged branch.

  “What d’ye mean to do with yer wee stick?” Thea stood and rubbed her hands together, trying to warm them.

  He pointed to the fireplace. “Step back and watch.”

  Callum shoved the branch up the flue as high as he could reach. Two dried bird nests, dirt, and soot dropped with a plume. Waving his hand in front of his face, choking on the dust, he scraped a spot on the grate. He arranged the nests as kindling. Using his flint against his knife, he soon had a burgeoning fire. It popped and crackled warmth into the room.

  Thea searched the cupboards, glancing
behind closed doors. She stamped her feet.

  “What are ye doin’ there?”

  Thea continued to stomp around the tiny cabin. “Just lettin’ the current residents ken there are two more sleepin’ here tonight.”

  Callum grinned. “Ah, I dinna doubt word has been sent.”

  Stepping out into the rain once more, Callum led the horse to a rude stable built alongside the hut and removed the saddle. He rubbed the horse down with tufts of grass but could offer nothing more to the animal than a dry place to sleep. He left the tether loose for the animal to search the small area for his own meal.

  When he returned, he set the saddle and gear on the dirty, raw planked floor. Taking stock of the room, he saw a narrow bed, two stools, and a rickety table.

  “’Tis no much, but ’tis dry and will soon be warm.”

  “Aye.” Thea hugged herself.

  Callum gathered her in his arms, kissing her brow. “’Twill be all right.”

  “’Twill no be all right,” Thea ground out. “Men are dead. Will Alister and Willie survive? And if they do, what life will they have? So senseless.”

  “For a spoilt prince who has no conscience for his actions,” Callum agreed.

  Releasing Thea, he retrieved his saddle bags. “’Twill be better to have somethin’ in yer belly.” He searched and found a scrap of bread, a bit of hard meat, and a few apples they had gathered on their way to the MacDonald’s.

  Thea’s shoulders sagged.

  Callum kissed her forehead and hugged her as close as her injured arm would allow. “Are ye hungry?”