Finding My Highlander (18 page)

Chapter Twenty-Six

Strolling into the kitchen’s vegetable and herb gardens, Andra came to an area where Alith and Jane busied themselves harvesting plants.

“Greetings, m’lady, how fare you this lovely day?” Jane stood and wiped the dirt from her hands before reaching to assist Alith to her feet.

After exchanging a few pleasantries, Jane took her basket of clippings to tie up and hang from the kitchen rafters for drying.

“Will you lend your arm to an old woman and help me to yon bench. I enjoy warming these tired bones in the sun,” Alith said. Taking Andra’s arm, she led her out of the herb section, around a large tree to a bench on the west side of the keep. They sat in pleasant silence, soaking up the restfulness of the garden and the sun’s warmth. Alith patted her weathered hand over Andra’s, “You sorely miss your home and kin, even these dimming eyes can see that ‘tis so.”

“My father’s passing was recent. I do miss him greatly.” Glancing over the gardens and to the hills beyond tears filled her eyes.

“He was a good man, your father?” Alith asked, hesitantly.

“Oh yes, he was the best of men, strong, intelligent, and thoughtful. He always put my needs and concerns above his own. No woman could ever hope for a kinder father. He taught me all I know.”

“And your mother, did she teach you as well?”

“My mother died when I was seven years of age. It is sometimes difficult to remember her. Those memories that remain are of a beautiful, gentle woman.” Andra sighed and dropped her chin.

Alith’s withered hand patted hers comfortingly, rubbing across her father’s ring. “‘Tis a heavy weight you carry. I am here for you, dear one. I hope you’ll sit with me when your losses feel too heavy. I’m a verra good listener and would wish to lift your sorrows if you’ll allow it.”

“That is so kind, Alith. You were correct about the MacLeans. They have been very considerate to my plight while taking me into their home.” She swiped at the tears on her cheeks.

“Och, ‘tis true. They are verra inviting to those who have lost their way in the world.”

“Have you always lived with the MacLeans, Alith?”

“To be sure, it seems as though I have. As a young woman, I had me own home and family, but ‘twas verra long ago. They’re all gone now. I first came to Ruadhstone Castle as a young widow who had recently lost both husband and son in a war. The laird’s grandmother was a new bride at the time. We were inseparable as bairns, you ken, as she had fostered with my family. We grew verra close, dear as any family, though not of the same blood. When I arrived, late in the last months of her first, difficult pregnancy, it seemed the natural choice to stay and assist her. My presence aided her and she provided the sanctuary and solace I so desperately needed.” Alith’s milky eyes misted over as she slipped into memories of long ago. Andra and Alith sat in quiet companionship, the soft breeze ruffling leaves and bending down the grassy hills. Andra had fallen in love with this rough, wild place and the people who lived here.

Eventually, Alith excused herself to take her rest while Andra remained in the back garden. How quickly she had filled every aspect of her life with assumed duties where she found herself constantly in the presence of others. This brief moment of solitude felt deliciously revitalizing.

Suddenly, Vera ran through the postern door in the lower wall and Andra’s quiet retreat abruptly ended. “Help, oh please, you must come right away, Kyle has had an accident down by the loch.”

Andra jumped and ran to her, “Should we not call for help?”

“Nae, there is no time. You must come quickly, please.” Vera clutched at her hand and dragged her to the gate she had just entered.

The hairs on Andra’s arms prickled, and a shiver ran down her spine. She set aside the concern that niggled at the back of her mind, dismissing it as fear for Kyle. She ran as quickly as possible. She hated the way the excessive clothing and long skirts hindered her speed.

They ran along a dirt path, through a circle of trees and behind the back of a low mounding hill that led to the loch. They seemed to take the long way around, but she didn’t raise a question as they rushed ahead. Suddenly, there were horses speeding toward them. Andra couldn’t tell where they’d come from, but released a sigh of relief that help had arrived. Then she saw Senga and Isabel gagged and tied, held captive on two of the horses. Andra opened her mouth to scream when someone threw a blanket over her head and cruel hands tossed her over a horse knocking the breath from her lungs.

She struggled against her captor. Arms like steel bands gripped her tightly and an unfamiliar voice snarled, “Settle yourself, wench, and I won’t knock you out. I’ll order those young lasses’ throats cut where we stand unless you cooperate and remain quiet.”

She kicked and twisted and tried to scream, but the blanket covering her face muffled her voice. The man bent over her and bit her shoulder so hard she was certain he’d drawn blood, even through the blanket and her clothing. As though that wasn’t enough to subdue her, he punched the side of her head. “I said to hold your wheesht, bitch. Dinnae push me to further injury. I prefer you alive, but dead would work as well.”

Bile rose in the back of Andra’s throat. Attempting to calm herself, she drew gulps of much needed air into her lungs. That caused her to hyperventilate, and she feared she might faint until Vera’s panicked voice penetrated her terror. She slowed her breath as she concentrated on the woman’s words.

“Why did you grab the other girls? They weren’t part of the plan. They are no use to you. You need to take me with you.” Vera did not mention Isabel’s relationship with Kendrick. If their captives didn’t recognize her, that information might save the girls. Then again, it might not. Who could reason out the thoughts of a man willing to kidnap, gag, and bind innocent women and girls?

He barked his reply, “My plans don’t concern you. Go back to the castle. Make excuses for their absence. When Kendrick returns and you ken how many men are forming for the search, go to the meeting place in the grove outside the village. A man will wait there for your information.”

Vera’s voice squeaked anxiously. “Nae, nae, you mustn’t leave me here. Lorne may send out men tonight when the girls don’t return, especially if Kendrick is not back. They will suspect me if I try to leave the castle at night. I cannae stay. You promised to take me if I brought the woman to you.”

“You make certain they don’t know of the young’ens absence. If you dinnae do as I tell you, Vera, you’ll have more to fear from me than from them, and you ken it. Now go, do as I command, or I’ll kill you here.”

“Ride fast men,” the brute commanded. The horse under Andra spun in a circle and sprinted ahead. They rode for a long time at breakneck speeds. She had no idea the direction in which they headed or who had captured her. Why had Vera done this? She could not possibly think to get away with it. Kendrick would throw her in the dungeon or hang her, not necessarily because she had lured Andra away, but because these brutes had taken his sister.

Think Andra, think, and stay calm.
The words her judo instructor had drummed into her head entered her jumbled thoughts.
If you are ever taken, stay calm, pay attention to your direction, smells, sounds, the direction of the sun beating down, they all provide clues that will help you escape. Remember the imperative: stay alive.

How could she think clearly or identify her surroundings trussed up and blinded? The image of the girls gagged and bound helped focus her mind. She must at least appear composed. Grappling with the situation she realized one shoe was missing. She didn’t know where the shoe had dropped, but used her foot to knock the other off. Her captor either didn’t notice or didn’t care. She hoped someone would find them and they would mark their passing. Kendrick would come. He would find them. She had no doubt.

Andra tried to discern their direction by what little light penetrated the blanket over her head. But could only determine that the light had dimmed. She also realized the air had cooled significantly, but that could mean anything from a sudden shift in Highland weather to them entering a dense forest. Every part of her ached miserably, especially the bite on her shoulder. Terrible infections resulted from a human bite and this man smelled none too clean.

“Sir, can we stop for a respite?” she mumbled through the fabric. He didn’t respond. “I must relieve myself and I’m certain the younger girls need to as well.”

“We’ll rest when I say. And if you soil me, I swear I’ll beat you senseless.” He sounded as though he would enjoy beating her.

A while later the odor of cook fires and men talking entered her awareness. The horse stopped and her captor threw her roughly to the ground. She scrambled to her feet at the same time a hand yanked the blanket off her head.

“Let’s have a look at the creature that has captured the interest of the great Laird MacLean,” his tone hostile and acerbic. He walked around her like a wolf stalking its prey.

“Interesting,” he said, rubbing his chin with a huge, thick hand. Long nails caked with black debris scratched at a few days’ growth of whiskers. “You aren’t what one would expect, not the laird’s type if you get me meaning.”

She didn’t. The specimen in front of her lacked every manner of decency, from the filth about his person to his rude and cruel behavior.

“A bit long in the tooth mayhap. Still, you are a comely enough wench. What’s your name?”

Andra stood straight and did her best to quell the trembling in her limbs. Behind her, a chorus of bawdy catcalls, whistles, and crude comments let her know the girls were somewhere to her left. She heard one of them whimper and turned in their direction. A rough hand snatched her hair and pulled her head back.

“I asked you a question, woman. The lassies are none of your concern.” The man stood a little over six feet, leanly muscled with long, greasy, black hair and eyes so dark she could not discern a pupil. He reeked of whisky, sweat, and horse. She didn’t think he had bathed in months. Thin lips opened in a snarl as he rolled his tongue over yellowed teeth.

When he released her hair, she stood straight and squared her shoulders. “My name is Lady Andra. Who are you and why did you take us?”

“Well now, aren’t you the demanding one. Did I give you leave to question me, bitch?”

Assuming that was a rhetorical question, she chose not to respond. Before she could blink, he smacked her across the face.

“Why did you hit me?” Andra rubbed the red welt already swelling on her cheek.

“Hmmm. You speak English with a most peculiar accent. Hear tell you claim to be a Cameron.” He pinched her chin between his thumb and finger. “You dinnae look familiar to me. Who are your kin? You dinnae resemble any Cameron clans I’m familiar with—a bit too much polish,” he hissed as the back of his hand trailed across her cheek and down her throat. His eyes undressed her with a downward sweep.

She stepped back, “I have no kin,” she responded, breaking through his vile revelry. “I am not from here. What is your name, and what do you want with us?”

He puffed out his chest, and flicked her chin from his hand. “I am Laird Cormag Cameron, and you, my pretty, are me bait. I hear that The MacLean has taken a special interest in you. Though why he’d be interested in a woman with no kin to swell his ranks is a curious question.”

He stepped closer, his face inches from hers, and his repulsive breath filled her nose. “Dae you warm his bed, lave his cock with your tongue?” he flicked his tongue against her cheek.

She barely repressed a gag. God, she prayed this beast didn’t hark back to some distant, black sheep relative. He repulsed her in every way. There was certainly no thread of resemblance, and Cameron was a common enough name, even in the eighteenth century. They couldn’t all be related.

Suddenly he gripped her breast and squeezed hard. The feel of his hand on her shocked her into action. She fisted both hands and slammed them with all the force she could muster into the crook of the arm clutching her breast. Jamming her foot into the side of his knee, she managed to knock him off balance and darted toward the trees. She knew she couldn’t escape, but reacted instinctively. He caught her before she took more than a few steps. “So you like it rough, m’lady. Well now, as it happens I prefer it as rough as you can take and more. It will be me great pleasure to accommodate you on that count,” he said, as he spun her around and punched her in the stomach.

All the air left her lungs in a gasp. Andra doubled over, retching and gagging. Then he backhanded her and knocked her to the ground.

“Cormag!” someone yelled. “Don’t damage the goods until I’ve decided her value to my plans.” Black boots strode forward and stopped between where she lay in the dirt and the swine who’d accosted her.

“The bitch smacked me. She needed a bit of discipline.” Cormag snarled.

“I witnessed the interaction. Seems to me she simply responded to your brutish behavior. For now, I want her to manage the other girls you decided to bring along—without my permission, I might add. I wasn’t looking to start a war, you know. It’s much easier to dispatch small contingents of primary warriors than an entire army.”

She wondered if the officer, clearly unhappy about the presence of Isabel and Senga, might release the younger girls.

A gloved hand extended to her. Andra looked up to see an officer from the English army. He was about the same height as Cormag but clean-shaven with sandy hair and piercing, pale eyes. She did not take the proffered hand, but shakily gained her feet without assistance. She could taste blood at the side of her mouth.