by Fiona Faris
“That still doesnae explain why the Lady Cabduh bade ye come here?” Nate spoke up from his dark corner. Amelia sent him a glare. If he ruined her chance because of his backwards superstitions, she would kill him herself, with her own hands. “Somethin’ doona sound right,” Nate said. “I think yer a witch, and yer tryin’ tae sway us.”
William gave Amelia a kind smile before turning to the younger man. “Nate, the lassie’s a witch if I’m yer mam. There’s something else goin’ on here. I’ve lived long enough tae ken.” He moved the younger man further from the bars. They ignored her, speaking as if Amelia couldn’t hear them. Amelia couldn’t make out their exact words, but it seemed Nate was arguing that it didn’t matter if she was really a witch or not, if that was what Cabduh believed, their Laird had no interest in getting involved. William arguing that they had an obligation to figure out the truth. What if they were turning over an innocent?
Even though it seemed William wasn’t as keen on keeping her captive as Nate and Laird MacLeod, but he would absolutely follow his laird’s orders. However, he would still treat her with kindness and listen to what she had to say. Amelia saw a light at the end of her tunnel. At the very least she could, maybe, convince him to allow her to see to Gavin, and go from there. Deciding not to argue if she was or was not a witch, they would get nowhere with such talk. The men would have to form their own opinions. Instead, she would work on William. At least he was concerned with the truth and seemed to be a reasonable man.
“William, I know it would take more than my word,” Amelia said, gripping the bars, forcing the men to turn and acknowledge her. “And I appreciate your kindness. If possible, could you at least arrange it so that I could see to Gavin’s wounds? I could prove to you that I am indeed a healer. He was hit so very hard by your men. I worry for him. Please. Do you think your laird would allow me to see to him? Like I said, I am a healer.”
“Lass,” William said, giving her a solemn look. “I can ask th’ laird, but he will not be swayed. It would do nay good tae get yer hopes up. But I can see that our own healer sees to the lad.”
Amelia let out a sigh of relief. It wasn’t the result she had wanted, but it was something. At least it was a good start. Amelia had a glimmer of hope. If Gavin was looked after, she would feel some relief. Then if she could prove she was not a threat to any of the MacLeods. If she could convince William to deliver a message to his laird for her, maybe, just maybe she would have a chance to sway his opinion on other matters as well.
“If you would ask, that would be a great generosity. I would much appreciate it.”
“Aye lassie, I will seek his council, and see if he will allow it.” Nate glared at her, and she resisted the urge to show him her tongue. He was a ridiculous man. She smiled instead and watched him glare at William before stalking out of the dungeons. Amelia knew the younger man didn’t trust her, and most likely still thought her a witch, but the older man, William, had kindness in his eyes. William lingered for a moment, ensuring the locks of the cell were secure. He had an air of regret about him that made Amelia think him to be on her side.
“I hate tae see ye in chains, lass. Stay well, and I ken it’s much tae ask of ye, but I will do what I can for ye.”
“Thank you, William,” she said, giving him a weak smile. “Thank you very much.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Gavin awoke in an unfamiliar room. His head pounded. Reaching back, he felt the ooze of his own blood on the back of his head, and the memories of what had occurred in the main MacLeod Keep came rushing back. He opened his eyes
An older highlander sat on the chair in the corner of the room. It wasn’t the Laird, but Gavin recognized him as one of the men who had captured Amelia.
“Och,” he moaned, sitting up and taking in his surroundings. “What the bloody hell? Where is the lass?”
“The lass is safe. She’s in the dungeons,” the man said. Gavin looked him up and down and didn’t perceive him as a threat. His demeanor was casual, yet Gavin sensed the warrior in him as he used to be.
“Then she’s nay safe. Ye cannae keep her behind metal bars,” Gavin growled. Blast it, he wished his head didn’t hurt as bad as it did.
“She is perfectly safe, lad. Calm down. I need tae speak with ye. Something about th’ lass has spooked me, laird. I cannae put my finger on why, and she seeks tae ken ye are well. I would like answers.”
“And who do ye be that gives ye th’ right tae come and demand so many of these answers ye speak of?” Gavin’s head was not going to stop throbbing, so he forced himself to stand. He had to get to Amelia and having a circular conversation with a man he didn’t know was not going to help him get to her any faster.
“Och, lad, I’m nay yer enemy, but I see ye’ve no reason tae trust me.” Gavin watched as the old man stoked the fire in the hearth, adding another log before he continued.
“Me name is William MacLeod. I ken I look like a dotterin’ old fool tae ye. But I’m th’ Laird’s uncle, his Da, the Laird before him, was me brothair. And th’ current laird may listen tae me. I doona ken what th’ true reason is fer ye tae be here, but I ken the lass is nay a witch. I’m simply tryin’ tae learn if ye be friend or foe, and how much help I can be.”
Gavin intently watched the man as he moved. The Laird didn’t have him killed when he fought the clansmen, that did bode well for conversation. Was the old man in front of him someone to trust? He and Amelia could both use an ally in this harsh place, and if William didn’t believe her to be a witch, there was maybe the possibility that they could appeal to the Laird before the Cabduh arrived.
Gavin thought for a moment. Cabduh sent word ahead to expect them, that would have taken a horseman, riding fast and only stopping when necessary, three days by the main road. It took Amelia and him longer because of his overly cautious worries.
There were two possible ways he saw for the Cabduh to arrive, either the old man traveled after his own man, putting him a day or two behind Gavin and Amelia, or he is waiting for word to arrive from MacLeod. That would buy them an extra four or five days. Either way that didn’t leave much time for him to convince the Laird of their true purpose, swing him to their side and then leave before Cabduh arrived.
“I see yer head, spinnin’ lad. Ye doona have much time, let me help ye if I can.” Gavin knew the old man was right. Even though it was Amelia’s story to tell, he wrestled with the idea of breaking her confidence.
“Yer right, Amelia is nay a witch. She is English, and that be her only crime.” Gavin began. “She is searchin’ for her lost sibling. We think it may be a lad. Lady Cabduh was the lass’ aunt, and she bade her come to yer keep.”
Gavin watched the man carefully as he explained Amelia’s story. Confiding in the old man about her father’s confession, the search for the missing baby, and how they had traveled this way looking for answers that Lady Cabduh admitted on her deathbed that only the MacLeod could address. All the while looking for the man’s reaction and any hint, he was not what he said. William MacLeod gave nothing away, simply nodded his head thoughtfully. When Gavin was finished, the room was silent for a few moments before William spoke.
“Lad, that is quite a tale and one I ken tae be likely true. And ye have me word, I’ll speak tae me nephew on yer behalf. However, before anything, I think there’s one thing both ye and th’ lass be needin’.” He stood and motioned Gavin to follow him out of the room into the darkened corridor.
Gavin followed William through the mostly quite keep.
“Most of th’ men are out in the bailey. The Laird likes tae train at night,” William said. “Keepin’ the lads uncomfortable in the dark and cold keeps them on their guards when th’ fightin’ is real.”
“Solid strategy,” Gavin agreed. “Were the MacLeods at Dunkeld?”
“Aye, but only a few men who insisted tae go. My nephew doesnae like tae lose, and he doesnae like tae leave the keep undefended, yet he would nay force those who felt a callin’ tae go tae st
ay.” Gavin appreciated the Laird’s judgement. In another time, perhaps he and The MacLeod would have gotten along, perhaps even been friendly. “I take it ye we’re at that battle?”
“Aye, lost me Da in th’ fight, and captured by the English for me troubles,” Gavin replied.
“How long we’re ye with the English?” The old man had kind eyes. He wasn’t asking Gavin simply for information to bring back to his Laird, but rather he seemed keenly interested.
“Four long years,” he replied.
“Och, even one day, one hour is too long. Yer lucky tae have survived, most men wouldn’t have.”
“Aye,” Gavin said, thinking of the men he knew hadn’t made it out.
“I met yer Da once, when we were lads. I remember likin’ him. He liked a good joke if I recall.”
“Aye, that he did.” Gavin wondered when the pain of his father’s death would ebb. He had been running from it for the last four years, and never found the comfort he sought. Yet, he liked hearing another speak of him fondly. Perhaps that is all it would ever be, a dull pain followed by a kind word. The men silently moved through the castle keep. Gavin noted the banners that hung from the walls, even in the waning candlelight he could see the MacLeod Laird took great care of his surroundings. The castle reminded him in many ways of Cadney, perhaps colder, darker, and with much more stone, but the feeling of a well-kept clan permeated the very walls. If William was successful in convincing the Laird that he and Amelia meant no ill will, and the lass certainly wasn’t a witch, mayhap they would find an ally here.
As they rounded the corner into what Gavin recognized as the kitchens, a dark feeling of foreboding crawled up his skin. Most of the castles in the Highlands were built in a similar fashion, and instantly, he knew where the man was leading him. A small pit of fear began in his stomach, and Gavin tried in vain to push it down before it could spread.
They approached the stone stairwell that would lead down into the dungeon, and Gavin hesitated. He had trusted William enough to tell him their secrets, yet his memories of harsh imprisonment and dark cells kept him from willingly following.
“We need tae be quick lad, what’s yer troubles?” William asked as he held the bedchamber door open.
“I don’t do well in dungeons.”
“Nay, I doona suppose ye do, but the lass needs ye. I fear she will nay do well all night in th’ cell, as clean as it is.” Gavin knew he was right. He couldn’t bear the thought of Amelia suffering in the dungeon, not like he had. He took three deep breaths. He would go to her. He would stay with her, get her out, or both. There was no way Amelia was going to face this without him.
“Aye, yer right, old man, lead the way.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
The stairs led down, deep into the belly of the keep, yet Gavin didn’t feel the familiar rush of the walls closing in around him. He didn’t feel his vision narrow, or his hearing cut off. He wondered at the difference. Perhaps it was partly due to the excess torches lit in holders and not the ancient stone walls. Perhaps it was because his need for Amelia was greater than his own fears.
“O’er th’ years me nephew has made many improvements tae th’ castle. One of which is lighting the paths and corridors, even tae th’ dungeons.”
“Why is that?” Gavin had never seen a dungeon as clean and well-appointed as the MacLeods’ aside from the bars on the cells, each chamber had proper bedding, and even candles inside. It was almost humane.
“He doesnae believe in causing men tae suffer, even his enemies.” Not for the first time, Gavin wondered if he and The MacLeod Laird would get along were it not for the circumstance. The dungeon had the layout of a man who had spent time in the squalid hell holes of an English prison, similar to his own experiences.
“That’s forward thinkin’ of him, aye,” Gavin replied. He was a touch distracted as he eagerly searched for Amelia. Where was she?
“Doona fash yerself lad, she’s at the end,” William said as if reading Gavin’s thoughts. “Now listen, I’ll go speak tae th’ laird, and leave ye down here tae speak with the lass. Doona try tae leave or break her out, it won’t help yer cause. Ye’ll nay get far, and ye doona want an enemy of me nephew. Trust me, and all will be well.”
“Aye, ye have my word.” Gavin nodded in agreement. He didn’t like putting his fate or Amelia’s fate in the hands of this man, but they were at the end of the world. They needed any ally they could get. Something told him to trust William and that he was right, even if they did manage to escape, they wouldn’t get far. The MacLeod’s men took their horse and their supplies. This was MacLeod land, not his or Amelia’s. He was injured, and they still did not have the answers they sought. As much as he didn’t like the idea of surrendering control of their immediate future, he knew for now at least, it what was best.
“Gavin? Is that you?” He heard Amelia’s sweet voice calling from the end of the corridor and rushed toward the sound.
“Amelia, lass. I’m here!” He reached her cell in two swift strides, grasping her hands through the bars.
“Are you alright? I saw them hit you. I saw…”
“Shh, lass, doona fash, just a wee headache is all,” he said, kissing each of her knuckles through the bars.
“I thought…”
“I ken lass, I ken. ’Tis alright now. I’m here.” He looked at her through the metal divider. Her braids were undone, and her eyes were rimmed in red as if she had been crying.
“How are you down here?” she asked. “You have to leave, what if you have an attack? I don’t want you to be here, Gavin, it’s not good for you.” He knew what attack she was referring to, and he didn’t quite know how to tell her he was fine. It was her that he was worried about. The dungeon, even as well-done as the MacLeod dungeon, was no place for her. His heart ached to take her into his arms. He looked back at William.
“Can ye not let me in there with her? Surely ye doona mean tae have me sit outside her cell?” William looked down at the ground.
“There are some things I cannae do, lad. If I open the cell and let ye in, my nephew will see it as a betrayal. I’m workin’ for ye, but I still have tae follow me laird’s orders. He wants the lass locked and gave no such order for ye.”
“Surely, yer laird did nay mean for ye tae allow me down here, either?” Gavin challenged.
“Nay, nay he did not. But that is easy enough tae explain. Not so easy would be tellin’ him how ye got in the cell. Some of the men believe yer lass truly is a witch. We have tae be careful. Let me help ye in my way, lad,” William said.
“It’s alright, Gavin,” Amelia offered. “It’s enough that you are here, and you are alright. Truly. Please let’s not waste this time.” She was right, of course, but Gavin didn’t have to like it. He grasped her hands tighter. She was his anchor, but he was determined to be hers as well. No matter what happened, they were leaving this castle together. He turned to William again.
“Many thanks for yer help. When will ye speak with the Laird?” he asked.
“I will go now. It seems ye two might want a wee bit o’ privacy, and I want tae speak with him before anyone else.”
Gavin left Amelia’s cell and walked over to William, taking one of his hands in his own.
“Thank ye, for yer help. No matter th’ outcome with yer nephew, yer kindness will nay soon be forgotten.”
“Och, lad, ’tis th’ least I can do. In my old age, all I have left is fightin’ th’ small battles. We’ll get th’ lassie out, doona fash.”
Gavin watches as William left the dungeon before turning back to Amelia.
“Och, lass, I was so worried.”
“You were worried? I watched them beat you and drag you away. The Laird didn’t even bat an eyelash. You could’ve been killed.” Fresh tears sprang in her eyes and Gavin longed once again to hold her fast.
“Nay, lass. Doona cry. I’m made of stronger stuff than a few eager lads with swords. Look at everything we’ve been through. Nary a scratch.” She no
dded, but Gavin could see the toll their travels was beginning to take on her. “William will speak to the Laird on our behalf. I hope ye aren’t angry at me, but I told him everything.”
She sank to her knees and put her head down. Gavin feared she was indeed angry. “Amelia, I had no choice. We needed th’ help.” He dropped to his knees and reached through the bars to hold her as best as he could. “We needed th’ help,” he repeated.
She was silent for a long moment, that felt like an eternity to Gavin. He couldn’t have her think he betrayed her. That was never his intention. Her shoulders rose and fell in an even rhythm, and Gavin feared she was trying to control her anger.
“Please, lass, say something,” he pleaded. His voice sounded foreign to his own ears, and Gavin realized he had never begged for anything. While a prisoner, he didn’t beg for his life. When a soldier, he didn’t beg his troops. But now, faced with Amelia’s disappointment, he found it was easy, he would beg her for anything. “Please.”
