Kept by the Highlander (9 page)

Thirteen

             
Malcolm was pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace in the Great Hall. Where was she? The banquet was about to start.

             
"Sit down lad, yer making me neck ache."

             
Malcolm tossed his father a look of pure impatience and resumed his pacing. Just then a silence came over the crowd that was milling about the Hall. Malcolm turned slowly to see Kalila walking down the stairs with his mother and Aluda.

             
He stared up at her with his mouth slightly open, awestruck by her transformation. Gone was the exotic Princess he had known these past months. Instead, a bonnie Scottish lass stood above him. Her long dark hair was loose over her shoulders. Her tawny skin and amethyst eyes sparked against his clans colors of green and black. He felt his heart leap at the sight of her.

             
Everything was going to be fine.

             
She would be happy here with him. They would be married and he would have what he wanted.

             
Her.

             
The thought of having unlimited access to what had been forbidden to him just a fortnight ago sent the blood rushing to his loins. Once they were wed he could have her every night. As often as he wanted. Well, as often as she wanted. He had a feeling though, that she was just as randy as he was.

             
His face broke out in a wide smile as she walked toward him.

             
"You look bonny lass."

             
She smiled at him.

             
"You look bonny as well."

             
Then she leaned in and spoke in a whisper.

             
"I can see your knees Highlander."

             
He laughed and adjusted his kilt.

             
"You'll see more than that, and soon."

             
She blushed prettily as he led her over to the high table where his father already sat.

             
Laird McRae stood and peered at Kalila. Then he gave her a grudging smile and clasped her hand.

             
"So yer the one who saved our son and heir eh?"

             
Kalila nodded.

             
"We have taken turns saving each other it seems."

             
"Well then thanks are in order as well as a welcome."

             
He opened his arms and enfolded the startled Princess inside them. Malcolm laughed at the look on her face as she was squeezed by the enormous Scotsman. He pulled her to his side as soon as his father released her.

             
"Now do you see there's nothing to worry about?"

             
She nodded happily and allowed him to lead her to the high table. Aluda and his mother joined them as well. Over the past few days Aluda had told him the true story of her life. She'd been born to slavery and served at the palace until the day of their escape. But Kalila had freed all her slaves shortly after she turned eight years old. So her servants had all been free men and women.

             
It was the sort of thing that only made him love her more.

             
Love.

             
Where had that come from? He longed to bed her, that was true. And he respected and admired her ideals, her ready wit and her playful nature. But love?

             
That was not for men such as him. It was for poets and bards and ugly folk who had trouble getting a lass in the sack. Malcolm was none of the above.

             
It was a good thing that Kalila didn't expect such platitudes from him, because surely she would be disappointed.

             
He frowned and pushed thoughts of love from his mind.

**********

             
Kalila's head was spinning, either from the wine, the sheer number of Clansmen she'd met or the dancing. She was swung around again by another of the burly Highlanders.

             
It was definitely the dancing.

             
Kalila had never laughed so much in her life. Or drank so much either. She waited for a break in the dancing to find a quiet spot to regain her equilibrium.

             
The McRae Clansmen and women had embraced her with open arms. It helped that there seemed to be a rumor about her saving the Laird's son's life, and also one about their impending wedding. Malcolm had told her to neither confirm nor deny anything, but to let them wonder. And then he'd kissed her in the middle of the dance floor, taking the guess work out of their relationship.

             
She had to laugh. He certainly had his methods of getting what he wanted. And she knew she could not resist him.

             
"Enjoying yourself, are ye?"

             
Kalila turned to see a pretty blond woman standing nearby. She had an angelic look about her, but there was no mistaking the malice in her eyes.

             
"I'm Caitlin."

             
Kalila forced a polite smile to her face.

             
"I am Lila. It's nice to meet you."

             
"He'll get bored of you. You are just a novelty to him. And once he does he'll come running back to me."

             
Kalila felt her face flush in anger. But she was a stranger here. It would do no good to antagonize a valued member of the Clan. All the same, she could not let the insult pass.

             
"If he is so fond of you, why is he so often in my bed?"

             
She smiled and nodded as if she hadn't just admitted to fornication out of wedlock. Then she brushed past the startled blond and rejoined Malcolm at the high table.

Fourteen

             
Malcolm woke early, hoping to sneak into the Princess's bed. It was bad luck to see the bride before the wedding, but he wasn't one to cater to superstitions. Besides, his mother and Aluda had kept them apart since the night of the banquet. Malcolm was ready to jump out of his skin with frustrated desire.

             
He was imagining the night to come when it hit him.

             
Today was his wedding day.

             
Malcolm felt an odd flutter in his stomach. It had been two weeks since they arrived, almost three since he'd had her in the King's Palace. He smiled suddenly. He would have given a bag of gold to see the look on Al Hakam's face when he saw the bloody sheets.

             
Kalila was
his
. Soon it would be true in law as well as in his heart and mind.

             
He pulled on his boots and strode to the hallway. Superstitions be dammed, he wanted to see his bride.

             
Dammit, it was his right!

             
Besides, he missed her.

             
He knocked gently and the door swayed open. That was odd. It wasn't like Aluda to leave it unlocked. He should know, he'd been turned away before. Gingerly he pushed open the door to Kalila's chamber.

             
His blood turned to ice.

             
The room was in shambles. There were clear signs of a struggle everywhere he glanced. Broken shards of a goblet, an over turned chair, the blankets for the bed cast to the floor.

             
He scanned the room, hoping to see Kalila. Instead all he found was Aluda's small figure, slumped over and tied in the corner. He was beside her in a second, pulling the balled up rag from her lips.

             
"Aluda, are you alright?"

             
The girl nodded weakly. Tears sprang immediately to her eyes.

             
"They took her! I am so sorry. I could not stop them!"

             
"Who took her Aluda?"

             
"A blond woman. She told me she was giving her back to her proper groom."

             
She didn't need to say who that was. He knew. The chill inside him spread to his heart.

             
Al Hakam was in the Highlands.

             
He'd found them.

             
God help him if he laid a finger on her.

**********

              Kalila moaned and opened her eyes. The light shining in through the rough hewn window hurt her eyes, so she closed them again. As soon as she did she realized that something was wrong.

             
No. That wasn't right.

             
Everything was wrong.

             
She was lying on a cold stone floor. Her hands were tied behind her. Her ankles were tied. Her whole body ached, as if she'd been dropped. More than once.

             
Kalila winced and forced her eyes open again. She turned her head away from the light and groaned. There was a sore spot on her head. So that was how they had gotten her here without her knowing. At least she was alive.

             
If she was alive, there was hope.

             
The room came into focus slowly. Kalila could see a table and chairs at the far end of the room. A dilapidated bed in the other corner. There was a half dressed woman on it, watching her.

             
Caitlin.

             
The woman looked as if she'd been used badly. But Kalila knew that it was Caitlin who had sought admittance to her chamber in the early hours. She was the one who had put this plan into action.

             
Clearly though, things had not worked out the way the blond woman had planned. Her lips looked bruised and her eyes looked as though she had been crying. Her dress was torn and her hair was a tangled mess. It was obvious that she'd been forced against her will.

             
Kalila forced herself to breath slowly in and out. She could do nothing to help the other woman, or herself, if she did not keep her wits about her. The first thing was to get loose of her bonds…

             
She realized that she was laying was near the corner of the room. If she inched closer to the wall, perhaps she could use the stones to cut through her bonds. She kept looking at Caitlin as she worked her way over to the rough stones. The blond looked shell shocked but she was watching Kalila with keen interest.

             
It was not unlike the way a child watches a bug.

             
Kalila winced as her shoulders ground into the hard floor. She felt the wall against her arm and angled herself so that her wrists were pressed against it. She started to rub them briskly into the wall, scraping her tender skin in the process. There was no hope for it. She had no other choice but to ignore the pain.

             
The door opened and she immediately closed her eyes and went limp. But not before she'd seen the familiar form of Al Hakam darken the doorway.

             
How had he found her?

             
Of course.

             
Caitlin.

             
The woman was close enough to the family that she must have sussed out Kalila's secret. Or at least that she was on the run. It would have been a simple enough thing to cast out word that two foreign women were guests of the Clan McRae.

             
Kalila swore to herself. This was a calamity. Al Hakam would not let her get away again. She froze when she felt him come near, his hand reaching out to grasp her chin.

             
"Still sleeping then?"

             
"Aye."

             
So Caitlin was keeping her secret for her after all. Kalila held very still as Al Hazam twisted her face this way and that. Then he unceremoniously dropped her chin, letting her head thud heavily against the ground.

             
"Still a beauty, even after she's been defiled. Remove your gown."

             
Kalila stifled a whimper as she listened to the rustling sounds of Caitlin disrobing. Heavy breathing followed and then a creaking sound as Al Hazam took his pleasure of the unwilling Scotswoman. Any anger Kalila had harbored for the blond dissipated in a wave of pity.

             
How many times had he violated her? Such was the reward for her perfidy. Still, if Kalila had been free to move she would have done anything to stop his hateful act.

             
Afraid to move, she lay still until Al Hazam had finished. He reached his pleasure with a hearty groan and then stood, putting his clothes back into place.

             
"Call me when she rouses."

             
Then he was gone.

             
Kalila opened her eyes to see Caitlin staring at her once again. Between the two women passed something akin to kinship in that moment. Or at the very least, solidarity.

             
She knew the woman would not untie her. But she also would not stop her from trying to free herself.

             
Once again, Kalila began to rub her binding against the wall.

**********

             
Malcolm braced himself against the outer wall of the crumbling keep. The place had been unused for decades. It hadn't taken the McRae's long to mobilize. They were all out, combing the countryside for the Laird's son's bride. As luck would have it, Malcolm was the one who had found her.

             
He was sure of it. He'd seen a dusky skinned fellow in the woods and followed him here. His hackles were rising. Yet another sign that he'd found his way unerringly to trouble.

             
And to her.

             
His woman seemed to almost magically attract trouble. It was not her fault. But he prayed that they might settle down to a less exciting life after he rescued her this last time.

             
He prayed that Al Hakam had not touched her. If he had, Malcolm thought that he might lose his mind. Of course, it would not stop him from loving her.

             
Love. There was no denying it now. The awful fear he'd experienced in the past twelve hours had left no doubt in his mind. He loved his Princess. And he was certain that she felt the same. If she didn't, he would just have to convince her.

             
No matter what Al Hakam might have done to her. Even if he'd forced her to his bed. He closed his eyes, willing the image out of his mind. The thought alone sent impotent rage spiraling through his very being. Malcolm continued side stepping gingerly around the loose stone wall. As he neared a window he heard it: the sound of rutting.

             
Malcolm could not remember afterwards how he got inside the window. It was several feet above his reach. But he was inside in seconds and staring at Al Hazam as he mated with a woman lying on a bed. He raced across the room and tore the old man off the woman, only to discover Caitlin laying there with a glassy stare. She blinked up at him and screamed.

             
"Look out!"

             
Malcolm dove to the side just as Al Hazam brought a dagger down- right into Caitlin's belly. Malcolm grabbed the man, holding his own dagger to Al Hakam's throat. He glanced down at Caitlin.

             
Blood was leaking from her mouth and the gaping wound in her belly. He winced, pulling Al Hakam away from her. Glancing around the room he saw his beloved on the floor, frantically trying to free herself.

             
He tightened his grip on Al Hazam as his thugs ran into the room. They picked up Kalila before he could reach her, holding their scimitars to her helpless body. Malcolm closed his eyes and released Al Hakam. His dagger fell to the floor as Al Hakam pushed him to his knees.

             
"Well Highness, it seems you have a choice. Come with me, willingly, and help to legitimize my claim to the throne, and I will let him live. Or come unwillingly, and he dies. Slowly, I think."

             
"No! Do not harm him! I will- I will come with you. But if you harm him, I swear I will make your life a living hell."

             
Malcolm cursed at Kalila's choice. She had not even hesitated to throw her future away to save him. He knew he would have done the same for her. It didn't matter though. No matter where they took her, he would find her.

             
Al Hakam laughed.

             
"Oh but I will harm him. I did not promise that. And you may try to make my life difficult, but I assure you, you will regret it. For every time to gainsay me I will execute one of your beloved servants. Or perhaps one of those filthy street urchins you insist on rescuing."

             
Al Hakam lifted his blade to Malcolm's cheek.

             
"Now, perhaps I will rid him of an eye. For daring to look upon my bride."

             
"No!"

             
Malcolm felt the blade pressing into his cheek, sliding upward… then suddenly it was gone. A heavy weight had fallen against them, knocking Al Hakam against the wall. Malcolm turned to see Caitlin wrestling with the man. She awkwardly grappled with his dagger, plunging it into the old man's throat. Blood spurted from the wound as the old man thrashed for a moment, and then stilled.

             
He turned and saw the men backing away from Kalila. Clearly they had no purpose without their master. She tottered awkwardly on her feet, tipping over just as Malcolm caught her.

             
Gently he carried her to the chair and untied the knots holding her hands together. She kissed him briefly and then looked over his shoulder.

             
"Go to her."

             
He nodded and crossed the room to the prone bodies on the floor. Carefully he lifted his childhood friend off the dead man and cradled her on the floor. Blood was pouring from her wound at an alarming rate. It would not be long now.