A lad who worked for him neared. “He is going to escape.”
“If he sets his mind to it, aye. I might just have to ride him when I depart for a visit south.”
The lad’s eyes widened. “Are ye wishing to die before ye arrive?”
Ruari went into the corral. Immediately, the horse turned to watch him approach, its ears flat. “How about going for a trip with me? I’ll leave the choice up to ye.”
The horse didn’t move, its eyes following Ruari’s progress. When he reached for the strap, the animal moved backward. Ruari took his time speaking to the horse while attempting to keep the skittish animal from reacting too strongly. He’d been working with the beast for several weeks and although the horse was headstrong, it was very intelligent. Ruari had no doubt he could master the animal. However, with only three days, he’d have to work fast to gain the animal’s full trust.
Leading the hesitant beast to the opposite side of the corral, he motioned to the lad to place a saddle over the fence. Once that was done, he turned to the horse. “Last time did not go well. Shall we try again?”
The horse remained still as he saddled it. Ruari ran his hand down the animal’s nose and spoke to it. “No need to be angry friend. I will never mistreat ye.”
It was another long while before Ruari could mount the horse and the sun was setting by the time he dismounted and brushed the animal down. Although they’d remained in the corral the entire time, he felt confident in taking the horse out for a ride the next morning.
Ruari had missed last meal, which he didn’t mind. Most days when the weather was warm, he retrieved food from the kitchens and ate there or outside in the garden.
Moira, the head cook, waved him to sit upon entering the kitchen. “I saved ye some lamb. People were asking for more, but I insisted there was none.” She placed a tureen in front of him. The aroma of herbs made his stomach lurch with anticipation and he took a deep inhale.
“Ye are the best cook in the land,” Ruari pronounced and tore a big hunk from the bread on the table. Ian, Moira’s son, and his wife, Ceilidh, entered and joined him at the table.
The tall, blond man remained in the clan’s guard force even after losing an arm in battle. Having known each other since they were lads, Ruari and Ian were as close as family.
“I hear ye may have to get married,” Ceilidh said with a wide smile. “Can ye imagine it? How delightful.”
He and Ian exchanged confused looks. Ruari chewed his food and swallowed. “Why would ye think it would be delightful to marry a woman I’ve never met?”
“Because it is the only way ye will wed. Too set in yer ways, ye are.” The pretty woman motioned around the kitchen. “Have ye even noticed how pretty some of the lasses in here are?”
There were giggles from the cooks and Moira chuckled. “Aye, I do believe Ruari has noticed at least one of them.”
This time, there were gasps and Ruari rolled his eyes. “I do not have a problem with marrying nor with doing my duty to the clan.”
“However?” Ceilidh asked. “Ye have something to add I am sure.”
“Aye. However, I will not marry when it does nothing to help our clan. The Fraser only looks to what will benefit them. Our clan is large and strong. We have no need of them as an ally.”
Ceilidh huffed. Moira shook her head.
“What?” Ruari asked no one in particular.
“Listen,” Moira said, tapping him on the shoulder. “The stronger a clan, the larger the responsibility to help others. It is honorable of a laird to ask for an alliance when he fears for his people.”
Ruari frowned at the fact the woman had spoken a truth he’d not considered. “Ye are a wise woman.”
“I know,” Moira said and looked at her son. “I know everything.”
This time, it was Ian who rolled his eyes.
Ruari studied the older woman. She’d always guided him well. “So ye think I should marry then?”
“I think ye should follow yer heart, lad,” she replied with a warm smile and abruptly changed the subject. “I hear ye visited yer mother. How did it go?”
“Same as always. She does not wish to see me. Prefers not to be reminded of her past.”
Moira grunted in disapproval. “She is a fool then. Because ye are a good man. Someone she should be very proud of.”
“Thank ye.” Ruari stood and stretched. “I’d best find my bed. I have much to do tomorrow.”
Ian got to his feet and walked with him to the door. “After first meal, we will go out and visit the farms to the north. Hopefully, we’ll be done early enough for ye to spend time with that devil of a beast ye insist on riding.”
“Very well. I will ride him to do this. It will be a good test.”
His friend chuckled. “I look forward to the spectacle.”
Chapter Two
Esme Fraser’s feet flew across the forest ground as she raced forward, barely dodging branches, her arms pumping hard. A low branch cut across her face and Esme groaned, but continued running. Hunters had been allowed on her father’s land and her pet doe had wandered out into the forest earlier.
Birds chirped around her, the small beasts enjoying the warm sun and plentitude of food from the low-growing berry bushes. Every sound they made annoyed her more and more.
Esme leaped over a fallen sapling and ran a few yards before stopping to listen. Letting out a whistle, she held her breath, hoping to hear sounds of an animal approaching. There was only silence.
She glared up at the trees when loud birdcalls alerted others of her presence. “Shush!” she called out as if the animals would understand.
Upon spying a broken branch, she let out a cry of relief and took off at a run again, sprinting between trees and jumping over rocks in the way. There was a clearing. In the distance, she heard men’s voices. At once annoyed and incredulous at their lack of remaining undetected, she sprinted toward them.
“Hey, there!” she called out to ensure not to be mistaken for an animal and be shot. “I must speak to ye,” Esme yelled. “Make yer presence known.”
First, one young man, then another came into view. They were familiar to her, two young village boys perhaps no older than five and ten.
“Lady Fraser,” one of them, a redhead, said, his eyes wide. “Whatever are ye doing out here?”
“Making sure ye do not hunt down any fawns,” she informed them, her breathing hard as she’d run a long way. “I have a pet fawn, ye see, and my father informed me he may have forgotten to inform ye of it.”
The other one nodded. “Indeed, he did not. We are hoping to catch rabbits or a young boar, Lady Fraser.”
“Very well,” she said, scanning the surroundings. Then having pity on the fact they’d catch neither as they were making too much noise, she decided to help them. “Come, I will show ye were to hunt. Do not speak.” She held up two fingers and motioned for them to follow.
Once they arrived at a spot where they could see a shallow creek, she crouched low to the ground and the two young men did the same. “Animals come here often. Ensure ye only kill for yer family. Ye know the rules. And do not dare hurt a fawn, it may be mine.”
“We will not hurt any wee deer,” the redhead replied, his eyes scanning forward. “Thank ye.”
The sense of dread did not leave even though Esme was sure the two would not kill her doe. Something felt amiss. There had been poachers about the woods regularly as of late. It had nothing to do with lack of food, but more because of the fact the larger clan whose lands bordered on theirs, regularly baited her father for a reaction. That larger clan wanted to take their land and pull them under the rule of Clan Mackenzie. For over a year now, her father had resisted. But it was proving fruitless.
The Mackenzie was powerful and unless her clan united with another of their choice, there was little that could be done to keep the much stronger clan from taking them over.
She stopped and listened. Her venturing so far into the forest, although a desperate m
easure to keep her wayward pet safe, had been foolish. Without guards, if she happened upon Mackenzies, it could prove very dangerous.
As the only daughter of Duncan Fraser, she was constantly followed by one or two guards. But in her haste to find little Dot, she’d slipped away alone. “Dot,” she hissed at hearing a rustle, only to chuckle when the doe’s head popped up with leaves hanging from its mouth.
“There ye are. Come now, we must return home.” The doe came to her and nudged her hand in an obvious request to be scratched behind the ears.
“No time for it.” Esme grabbed a strap she kept around the animal’s neck and pulled the doe along as she gauged the best way to get back home safely. “I am going to have to keep ye in a pen. This time, ye’ve wandered much too far.”
Dot’s head popped up, the doe as still as a statue, its ears twitching. It sniffed the air and then, as quick as lightning, bolted forward, pulling the strap from a startled Esme’s hand.
The undeniable sound of footfalls followed as men hurried through the woods. They must have caught sight of Dot because they rushed forward. If it was the same young men from earlier, she’d ensure her father banned them from hunting on their land ever again.
Not thinking, Esme hurried out from the foliage without saying anything. There was scuffling as if they hesitated and heard her.
“Stop at once,” Esme called out, just as an arrow flew through the air and pierced her left side. Moments later, a second one hit her in the lower stomach. Too shocked to feel anything at first, she tried to see who’d shot her, but her vision blurred. There were two of them, both men. That much she could tell as they burst out from behind the trees, their voices changing from low-pitched to alarmed whispers.
She attempted to pull at the arrow in her stomach, only to be engulfed in so much pain that she stumbled backward.
“Who is she?” one of the men asked the other.
“I believe it is Laird Fraser’s daughter,” the other replied.
Esme attempted to ask for help but could only moan as she stumbled backward again.
There was a moment of silence as they seemed to assess her for a long moment. “She won’t live.” They remained blurred and she blinked to try to see them, but it was futile.
Silently communicating, they must have come to the same conclusion because they turned away and ran.
“Pl-please,” Esme managed to call out just as her knees gave way. She managed to drag herself to a tree and lean back on it, her breath coming in shallow gasps.
If this was how she was going to die, Esme considered as waves of pain came and went, she could accept it. However, she wanted to live. There were so many things still to experience.
Closing her eyes, she envisioned the young men from earlier and hoped that, perhaps, they’d find her.
Despite the inability to take a full breath, she attempted to scream.
“Help me.” Esme winced at the piercing ache in her lower abdomen. Her voice was barely louder than normal speak as she could barely breathe without causing the arrow in her stomach to move.
Tears trailed down her face as she struggled to stand. It would be a long trek home. She’d run for a while before arriving there. But perhaps if she started in the right direction, she’d be met by guards who’d be out searching for her.
It took several tries just to get to her knees. From there, she pulled on the tree to stand. Each movement sent pulses of pain throughout her body so that by the time Esme stood, she was shaking and wet with perspiration.
Unable to keep from it, she wept openly, unable to keep sobs from causing even more aching. This could not be happening. Why was no one coming to search for her?
One step, she willed, and took a tentative step. She held out a trembling hand to a nearby tree and took a second. Her feet felt heavy and uncooperative.
She wasn’t sure how much later or how far she’d traveled, but her body refused to move another inch. Having lost count of how many dizzy spells had struck, when it happened again, Esme closed her eyes and gripped the branch she’d been using as a cane.
The sun was falling, the forest darkening as long shadows cast across the path before her.
When her vision blurred, Esme took a breath and tried her best to not fall. “No. Please,” she begged herself. “Keep moving.”
The trembling in her legs became worse and she looked around to find shelter. Soon, nightfall would come, and the smell of her blood would attract predators. Again, tears fell as the throbbing in her side became unbearable. For some reason, the stomach injury didn’t hurt as much now.
She lowered to the ground gingerly and cried out when she accidently hit the arrow in her stomach. Gasping, she managed to move forward on her knees to a small gap between a fallen tree and a rock. After lowering to her bottom, she shuffled backward until she was inside the small space. She then managed to pull branches down to cover the opening. Once inside, she whimpered like an injured pup while waiting for the agonizing pain to stop.
As much as she wanted to break the arrows, the idea of the pain the movement would cause was enough of a deterrent to keep from doing it.
Tired, thirsty and in pain, she sat in the darkness, every sense on high alert, as the night sounds surrounded her.
A man’s voice woke Esme and she grimaced when she realized her current predicament. She could not move. Every part of her body resisted when she attempted to reach for a branch that blocked the entrance.
“Who goes there?” she called out, annoyed at how soft her voice was.
“Ye may be the devil’s own son, but we are stuck together through this,” the man said with an annoyed tone. “I won’t stand for being thrown again.”
There were sounds as if a horse pawed the ground and snorted. Then silence. “I have nothing more to do but wait,” the man spoke again.
“Can ye help me?” Esme tried to speak louder. “Help.”
There was silence for a long time, then the man called out, “Is someone there?”
“Yes,” Esme said. This time, her voice was a whisper. She moaned when the attempt to call out again failed. Wiping a hand over her sweat-drenched face brought the realization that she was feverish. “Pl-please.” As her eyes fell, she fought not to pass out. However, she couldn’t keep from it. In a desperate attempt to get attention, she reached for a branch. But just as her fingers touched one, everything went black.
*
Ruari wasn’t sure if he was going mad. Although not one for fables, he’d often heard that men were caught by wood Fae and kept prisoners. The tales were often told at the tavern by men who’d drunk too much ale and from the stories, Fae were quite fetching.
He’d heard a woman’s voice, clear as day, but there was no one around. He scanned the surroundings only to find nothing but trees, bushes and a large rock. Now, where exactly had men claimed to find Fae? They’d always said near water and he was not near a creek, nor a craggy hillside. He shrugged. Perhaps it had been a trick of the wind and the effect of being cross with the beast of a horse he’d made the mistake of riding.
The horse grazed now, seeming as meek as a mouse. But Ruari would not be taken in by the wily thing’s ability to change from calm to furious in a matter of moments.
Just then, something caught his eyes. On the ground near a rock, there were markings of something being dragged across to it. He lowered down to his haunches and inspected the path. What he saw took his breath. A woman in bloody clothes sat between the rock and a tree, two arrows protruding from her body. She was slumped sideways and looked to be dead.
Chapter Three
It hadn’t been easy to extract the woman from her hiding place. Upon finding she was breathing, Ruari carefully pulled her out and placed her on the ground in front of the rock. In his bags, there were cloths he’d planned to use for bathing, which he now tore into strips. Once that was completed, he brought them and his wineskin to where the woman was.
Thankfully, she remained unconscious, because removi
ng the arrows would be painful. The horse neared and sniffed at the woman. Then to his surprise, it nudged her gently.
“Get back.” Ruari pushed the animal’s face away.
He then pulled out his dirk and tore her tunic open. She was covered in blood, which there was little he could do about at the moment. Instead, he concentrated on first the arrow in her stomach. It had gone through the right side and seemed like a clean, non-lethal pierce. With one quick push, the arrow went through to her back. The woman moaned but remained unconscious.
Thankfully, there wasn’t much bleeding. He determined that she’d bled quite a bit already. If she didn’t die from the wounds, the loss of blood would bring her demise. Ruari wrapped her stomach with the strips, satisfied when only a bit of blood seeped through.
For a moment, Ruari studied her face. Although dirty, it did not disguise her features. She was fair of face, not beautiful, but fetching. With long lashes and full lips, he found her to be attractive, but not in an overt way. There was a sprinkling of freckles across her nose and the tops of her cheeks that made one think of sunny days. Her long, dark hair was a tangled mess. The locks had been loosened by whatever she’d been doing.
It would be a shame for her to die in such a horrible manner.
Turning his attention to the other arrow which was lodged into the left side of her torso, he grimaced at the direction the arrow was in. It pointed inward to the center of her body. The arrow was deep, so it could not be pulled out. If he pushed it, it could cause extreme damage.
After caring for horses for so long, he’d learned to treat injuries and, therefore, had assisted the healer when treating warriors for battle wounds. This type of arrow piercing was always the most difficult to deal with.
Deciding it was best to leave the arrow in, he broke off part of it so it would not extend out so far and then bandaged around it.
He brought his tartan from the saddlebag and wrapped it around the woman. Now, he’d have to mount the unruly beast and hope for the best. With luck, he would arrive at Fraser Keep without the horse throwing him and the injured woman to both their deaths.
A Flawed Scotsman (Clan Ross Book 4) Page 2
