Dawn Annis (5 page)

Chapter 5

Iain and the other men let out a shout of joy.

“There ye are, lads. Onto the land of the MacGregors.”

Kate heard the men give another shout.

“Them bastards won’t follow us onto this land.

After another hour they came up over a rise and Kate gazed down into the most beautiful glen she had ever seen. Though she lived in the Scottish lowlands for several years, she had not known the glory the Highlands of Scotland could offer. Spring had a solid grip on the land now and the valley was surrounded in colors of every hue. The loch with its deep blue and purples appeared cool and inviting.

Kate longed to stop at its shore after several days of traveling at such a grueling pace with no privacy to wash properly. The heather on the hills swayed in the soft breeze, its tiny lavender flowers nodding gently. The green hills with its rich dark earth and purple mountains in the distance surrounded them as they rode down to the castle below.

Kate leaned out of the coach window to let the cool breeze fall on her bruised face. It began to heal on the journey, but it was still quite mottled and sore.

As they approached the castle in the distance, Kate saw the MacGregor home actually stood on an isle rather than a finger of land as she first surmised. They passed through fields left fallow though she saw a few ready for crops to be planted. As they crossed a massive stone bridge, she gazed up at the enormous stone pillars holding the thick wooden gates with big metal baskets on either side, set with kindling, ready to be lighted at dusk.

“It is beautiful,” she whispered.

The coach wheels rattled across the bridge and then into the enormous courtyard. Kate pulled her head inside and peeked through the heavy curtains of the coach. She quickly forgot her musings of the castle’s beauty and majesty as she watched the activity and bustle of the people. Afraid and unsure of the situation she was about to face, she felt her heart pounding in her chest. Her breathing was rapid as she quickly tried to smooth the wrinkles from her kirtle and wipe the grime from her face. To calm herself, she sucked in huge breaths and let them out slowly.

Then she saw
him
standing on the steps of the long hall watching the unfamiliar coach enter the keep. He was tall with long limbs, his muscular body firm and unyielding. He was about twenty-six maybe twenty-seven, she guessed. Dressed in tight-fitting leather trews and a long flowing linen shirt that lay open at the neck, he stood with the open stance of one confident in himself and his surroundings.
He is strong
. Strong enough to be the laird of his clan.

Here was the MacGregor.

Her heart missed a beat as she peered at him. He was wearing a frown as he ran his hand through his wind-mussed hair. So this was Iain’s laird. However was she going to talk to him about her predicament? Just looking at his handsome face made her nervous. His scowl didn’t help, although she couldn’t help noticing the breeze tousling his long hair and the sun shining on his tawny, smooth skin.

Swaying, the coach rumbled to a stop and Iain climbed down from its perch. With the reins relaxed, the horses settled and stood quietly, catching their breath. Their teeth clicked as they relieved their tongues of the bit pressure.

Iain waved a brief greeting to his laird. His men sat atop their mounts, waiting to follow Iain’s lead. The people of the castle had quieted with their arrival as the coach drew to a halt. The only sounds were of the various animals squawking or grunting for their evening meal and the jingle of the harnesses. Everyone had looked up from their chores at the strange coach, curious as to who was inside.

“Where ye been, Iain? I’ve been having a need for ye. The

Campbell clan raided four days ago and stole enough to make my blood boil. We rode after them but dinna catch them. And ye were cavorting across the glen for two weeks without a care,” Shane barked, his voice was deep.

Iain just grinned at Shane’s brief tirade. “Aw, ye dinna need my help. We’ll get those cowards another day. Right now, I have something more important to be showing to ye.”

Shane’s eyes widened slightly as he stared at Iain. He then narrowed his eyes. For Iain not to be upset about a raid from the Campbells, something must be important. Usually it was Shane dragging Iain back long enough to make a plan rather than charging straight into the melee. He wondered what the man was up to.

Iain strode over to the side of the coach and opened the door. He spent a bit of time in what seemed to be a heated discussion with the occupant. Shane impatiently shifted from one leg to the other and ran his hand through his hair. He didn’t like surprises. He didn’t have the time for this one.

He spent an hour at his father’s bedside. The man was not getting better, worse if the truth be told. What concerned Shane was Seamus seemed to be giving up his fight to stay alive. As long as his father still had enough in him to fight for his life perhaps it wouldn’t be taken away. Perhaps his father still had a chance. Shane’s mind was on this and many other things. He had no patience for one of Iain’s jokes. Shane watched as Iain lifted a hand into the carriage and a slender pale hand took his friend’s.

There was a whispered intake of breath from the crowd as the woman stepped down.

Shane’s breath escaped him at the sight. Even with the obvious beating she had endured, she was magnificent. Her hair, while auburn, was an uncommon hue. Its light mahogany color was punctuated by strands of gold and red. The way the colors danced reminded him of a flame at night. The sun made her tresses shine. Her body was too thin but with a woman’s firm breasts, a tiny waist curving down to rounded hips and slim legs. Her slender neck and a chin held a hint of stubbornness. Her nose was straight and thin, not overly long. Her creamy complexion held a faint blush on high cheekbones. The other side of her face and jaw line were bruised and slightly swollen. He couldn’t see her eyes because she wouldn’t look at him. He watched as she took in her surroundings. She tucked a stray curl behind her ear and then kept her eyes to the ground as Iain walked her over to him.

“May I present the Lady Kathryn Colquhoun,” Iain said with his chest stuck out proudly, his arm gesturing toward Kate.

His announcement stunned everyone into silence. Then people began to whisper to one another.

“Who did ye say?” Shane asked, incredulous.

Iain wouldn’t be that senseless, to risk all-out war, particularly now, when food and available men were running low.

“Lady Kathryn Colquhoun,” Iain repeated. “A few of the lads and I have been to York. We took her from that bastard Colquhoun though he dinna know it at the time. I’ll bet he’s missing her now.” Iain and his men laughed. Then Iain added, “She’ll bring a tidy ransom to ye. I thought about collecting the ransom my self. But I know ye would be doing the honors for yerself.”

Shane shook his head and stared at Iain, his jaw tight. “How could ye possibly have done such a thickheaded thing?”

The men stopped chuckling.

Catching himself, Shane stopped as well and said, “I want to talk to ye.”

Aware of his people watching the whole affair, Shane wanted to spare his friend a public dressing down.

“Unhitch the horses. Take them in to the barns. Rub them down good. They’ve been on a long journey.”

Shane made a mental note as to who they were for a later discussion. He noticed Henry right off.
I should have known he’d be in on this
, Shane thought, irritated.
Where there is trouble, there’s Henry.

“Darcey, where are ye, lass?”

“Here.” A sweet-faced young woman stepped forward.

“Take Lady Colquhoun to a spare bedchamber. Tend to her every need. Find Merta and have her help ye.”

“Aye.” Darcey gave a quick curtsy. She stepped up to Kate, who followed.

Shane watched Kate as she was being led into the castle. Beautiful she was; beautiful and a cause for worry.

He then motioned to Iain to follow him into the hall. He led Iain in to a small room he used for a study of sorts.

As the two men stepped into the scattered room, Iain flung himself into the chair by the desk. Shane slammed the door. Hard.

“Have ye lost yer bleeding mind?” Shane shouted as soon as the door was closed, his brogue thickening with anger. “The King of England himself will be at our door demanding her back. ‘Tis not likely he will ignore this. Not only will we be receiving no ransom, we’ll be strung up for sure.” Shane stormed around the room. “And then, to beat the lass, Iain. Surely, a wee lass like that one dinna give ye trouble taking her. I canna believe ye would hit a woman. I’ve never known ye to, even when one or two may have deserved it.”

Iain, red-faced with surprise and a little anger, stammered. “I dinna beat the lass. She took a tumble in the coach. When I brought her out, she looked like that. I dinna have the time to ask about it then, I was in such a hurry to bring her here. She told me of it later, on the ride here. I dinna beat her.” Iain drew a deep breath.

Shane had no idea of the precautions Iain had or had not taken to insure they had not been seen taking Lady Colquhoun. If they were seen, an angry husband leading a group of men will be on their way here now. A man determined to reclaim his wife.

“Did anyone noticed that ye took her?” Shane barked.

“Nay, ‘tis fine. Shane, dinna ye mind we need the coin? Dinna be afraid of the king. The Colquhouns are cowards. We’ll be counting our ransom and have her back in front of her hearth before the king knows
she’s gone. We be needing the money and they have plenty. Why not share the wealth? After all, ‘twas ours to begin with. Besides, she’s a good piece to look at, isn’t she? There’s something about her, dinna ye agree? Aside from the bruises.” Iain grinned.

Shane gritted his teeth at the mention of the woman’s bruised face and Iain’s unsatisfactory explanation as to what had caused them.

Iain stood and stretched his arms over his head and brought them down to rub his stomach. Shane could hear it rumble. “Will work the way it needs to, Shane. Now, I’m hungry. Let’s see what cook’s got for a starving man.”

Shane, dumbfounded, stared at his friend as he opened the door and walked out of the room. Only Iain could get past the MacGregor easily without so much has a ‘by your leave.’ He would have run another man through and fed his carcass to the dogs if he had dared to challenge the MacGregor’s authority, much less just leave the room.

Shane shook his aching head and closed the door. He sat behind his desk. Slowly he put his booted feet up and ran his hand through his hair. He pinched the bridge of his nose. He needed some time to think about this situation and come up with the best action.

He couldn’t risk putting his clan in more jeopardy with the king’s anger. Particularly with his father as injured as he was. He simply did not have the time for such foolishness. Although, the possibility of ransom and what it could do for him and the clan was intriguing.

Already considered outlaws, this latest scheme would do no good for them at court. Shane leaned back in his chair, ran his hand through his hair, closed his eyes, and began to weigh the possibilities. One thing Iain was right about. The woman was beautiful.

Chapter 6

Darcey led Kate through the magnificent hall to a stairway at the far end, Kate’s hard leather boots tapping across the stone floor. Candles in heavy sconces high on the walls lit the way through the cool interior. The woman leading her turned back to glance over her shoulder once or twice, her eyes wide with wonder. Kate smiled at her each time, marveling at the turn of events. As she walked, taking in her surroundings, she was awed by a sizable bronze coat of arms hanging high on the wall above the hearth ahead of her. In striking detail it depicted a sash encircled growling lion with a full mane wearing a crown. A red and green tartan gracefully hung below it. No, not just red and green. A small white and small black stripe ran side-by-side through it. Iain and his men’s plaids were so dirty she could barely make out the red and green and she had not noticed the plaids the men in the courtyard wore.

The hearth, deep enough to walk into if a person was of a mind, had a long spit, ready to turn for perfectly roasted meat. The fireplace mantle was heavy oak beautifully carved with intricate flowers and birds. The tapestries hanging around the room and along the stairway were carefully woven with obvious care.

As she regarded around the hall itself, she found it surprisingly clean. Fresh rushes were scattered around the floor and no food had been left out. Everything was quite tidy.

She heard people of the Highlands were filthy and slovenly, a people who cared little for themselves or their families. Most of the stories held war with others or fighting amongst themselves were their chief concerns.

Shane came out of his study and approached her.

“Though the circumstances should be different, I welcome ye to my home. Ye’ll not be harmed while under my roof.”

She raised her eyes to his and froze, her breath caught in her throat.

He was devastatingly handsome. His cheekbones high with a patrician nose. His eyes were grey, like a storm brewing, his face strong. He smiled and took her hand. Kate swayed on her feet.

“Forgive me,” Shane said with concern. “I’ve kept ye too long. Ye must be exhausted from yer long ride. We will see each other in the morn. Soon.”

Soon. A promise. He was an attractive man. It was hard to get past that but, memories of the various bits of gossip and gruesome tales about the Scots in general but particularly the Highlanders came to her mind. He said she wouldn’t be harmed. What about his ransom?

Kate climbed the stairway, weary from the long, grueling journey. Her brief encounter with the MacGregor left her staggering. Her nerves were quickly reaching their breaking point. Sore, dirty, and tired, she felt the fear still clogging the back of her throat.

She entered the room as Darcey drew the drapes closed then quickly laid a fire. The room soon glowed with heat and light. The apartment was as nicely furnished and cared for as downstairs. Lovely rugs lay on the stone floor to keep the chill out. Kate inspected the room. A beautiful tapestry hung on the wall at the head of the wooden bed. The windows had glass in them and were adorned with heavy drapes. Kate moved to the window and parted the drapes slightly. She admired the beautiful sun setting behind the hills. The loch seemed to be afire with the reds and oranges reflecting in its surface.

Someone knocked at the door.

Kate opened the door to a woman with wrinkled apple cheeks and kind eyes.

“Aye, there ye be deary. My name is Merta, the steward’s widow.” She bustled in, leading two young boys carrying buckets of hot water for a bath.

“Lady Colquhoun,” the woman said as she gave a small curtsy. “Welcome to our home.”

Kate’s weariness surfaced as she turned from the window. Her knees almost gave way with just the idea of a long, hot, soapy bath. Merta had Darcey and the boys moving about the room preparing it to her idea of perfection. They busily prepared the bath, fluffed the bedding and lighted the candles. Soon the room was warm and cozy. Merta pursed her small lips surveying their work and then shooed them out, closing the door.

“Now, m’lady, because ye dinna have yer maid with ye, I am happy to fill in. Let’s get yer dirty gown off ye and let ye soak in this hot tub.”

Kate surrendered to Merta’s tender ministrations and let herself be pampered. She’d had a week of exhausting pace, frustration, worry, and tension. She gingerly stepped into the bath and slowly sank down into the restorative depths and let out a low moan of pleasure.

Merta laid out nightclothes for Kate. “I’ll be back to help ye dress and apply some salve to yer bruised face.”

She took Kate’s kirtle and underthings and left the room quietly, shutting the door behind her. Kate soaked in the glorious hot water until it started to cool. She reached over and grabbed the soap from the stool sitting next to the tub and held it up to her nose. The smell of lye was pungent. But it is soap, she thought, and began with her toes. She worked the lather all the way up including her waist-length hair, concentrating on massaging her scalp. She washed her hair twice to remove the grit and dust. After rinsing and feeling like a lady once again, she climbed out of the tub and dried herself with the thick bath sheet then put on the gown and robe and sat down next to the hearth. Merta found her, brushing out the tangles in her curling hair and drying it by the cheery fire.

“Aye, m’lady, ‘tis a beautiful picture ye be making and that’s the God’s honest truth,” Merta said as she waddled into room, her apple cheeks more so because of her toothless smile. She set a tray of food on the table near a pair of chairs in front of the hearth and arranged the dishes.

“I had hair about yer color once in my life. Not any longer.” She pointed to her hair, a faded red washed with grey. Merta laughed and shrugged her round shoulders. “Well now, let’s be seeing about those bruises ye got there.”

She went over to Kate and led her over to a chair by the fire. She dipped a finger into the bowl she held and started to smear the contents onto Kathryn’s face.

“My good lord, what is that? It smells horrid.” Turning, she saw the hurt look come across Merta’s face.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to offend you. I couldn’t possibly put your salve anywhere near my nose or I will truly be sick to my stomach,” Kate said, softening her tone.

“‘Tis cow urine. Boiled down. Will heal yer face quick like. I mix it with a bit of sheep fat. Helps it stick,” she said with a quick nod and a wink.

“I appreciate it. I do. No, thank you,” Kate said, placing her hand on Merta’s arm to soften her words. “They are healing. I am sure they seem much worse than they are. I think in a short while they will be healed.”

“Well, I‘m not one to be talking out of turn, mind ye, the MacGregor is not going to be liking it. He’s already upset Iain beat ye in the first place much less to be reminded of it until them bruises heal. And that’s the God’s honest truth.” Merta nodded with a frown. “Well, if ye won’t let me put the salve on yer face” Merta shrugged. “Then let’s get some food in ye. Ye must be hungry.”

After a meal of cheese and fresh bread, Kate was feeling well satisfied and her eyes drooped. With the hot bath and the good food, her body relaxed.

Merta stood up and moved over to Kate. “Let’s get ye to bed.”

Kate allowed herself to be led to the bed. She lay down, sinking into the bed’s comforting softness. Merta placed a quilt over her. As she shifted down into the bed and found a comfortable spot, Kate toyed with what she had heard.

“Merta, she said earnestly, “Iain didn’t beat me. I fell in the coach. My feet came out from beneath me. My face and hands were bruised. I hit the side of the seat. Indeed,” she said at Merta’s skeptical look. “I fell when Iain was taking over the coach. I tried to open the door and it slammed shut and I fell.”

Merta listened with her hands on her hips. “To my way of thinking, that’s the same as beating ye. He had no business taking ye in the first place.”

Merta put her hand out to quell Kate’s protest. “Aye, the kidnappin' and ransom idea, plain foolishness if ye are asking me. Nobody is asking. I’m not supposed to know what’s going on but I do. Not much goes on in this household that I dinna know. I keep my mouth shut, I do. I’m not one to be talking out of turn.”

Kate smiled a little and sure Merta would indeed tell her, she asked, “What do you think will happen to me?”

“The MacGregor, he’ll be taking ye back to yer home. Asking yer forgiveness to my way of thinking. Mind ye, he’s the MacGregor and a man. He dinna have to ask for yer forgiveness, but he will. He’s that kind of man. And that’s the God’s honest truth,” she said with a firm nod. She tucked Kate’s quilt under the feather mattress and waddled to the door.

“Good night, m’lady,” Merta said softly as she closed the door.

“Good night, Merta,” Kate whispered, as she considered what Merta had said.

The MacGregor would take her back to her home. She sighed with relief, happy to know the MacGregor would at least listen to reason. She intended to go to Dumbarton. A thought occurred to her that made her sit up straight in bed. To go to him acting the part of a victim will only rouse his suspicion. She mustn’t allow him to think she approved of or accepted of this lawless act. She should be outraged and incensed. She should be yelling threats of her own and making promises of retribution. She should be demanding her release immediately instead of whimpering around like a kicked dog. Only she knew the truth of her circumstances and she wasn’t about to let the MacGregors in on it.

She had to find Smithers. He would go Dumbarton. She needed a place to live as well and the only place to start, for her, was there.

“The MacGregor should be relieved he doesn’t have to travel to York. I’ll have to make up a reason why I want to go there rather than England,” Kate said to herself. “Now to the ransom. Can I explain that Sidney is dead? Will they let me go without it being paid?”

Shane didn’t sleep. He lay in his own bed staring up at the ceiling of his comfortably appointed chambers. He spent the time working out a plan to help his clan, tossing and turning. Would he use Lady Colquhoun? The ransom would save his clan. Could he demand ransom from her husband? The damn Colquhouns. They deserved every ill thing they got.

But could he do such a thing to Lady Colquhoun. Her vulnerability struck him. Was it right that she be in the middle of this dispute?

Could this ransom idea work? The risk, of course, was Colquhoun would go to the king rather than pay. Shane would threaten him with the lady’s death. It made him sick to think of it. He told her she would not be harmed.

He would send a man to deliver the message and have him collect the ransom straight away. The money would be in their hands before the Colquhoun bastards even had an opportunity to visit the king.

“Aye,” Shane said to himself as he rubbed his hands together as much for warmth as at his pleasure for devising such a clever plan.