Lord of the Black Isle (24 page)

She smiled. “There is no need. Saving Judith's life and knowing she will bless you with many grandchildren is payment enough. And now, I will take my leave and return to my room for a much needed nap.”

“I will have yer escort ready to leave once ye decide when that will be. And now, I shall go visit my daughter.”

***

The first blush of morning had barely settled itself over the turrets of Bosworth Castle when Elisabeth gasped and sat up straight in her bed. She gazed around the room and felt disappointment to see she was still at Bosworth Castle, when she was hoping she would find herself in her room at Aisling and that David would soon be paying her a visit. She was consumed with a longing to see him and to feel the strength of his arms around her and to know that her long, unbelievable journey would end there… in David's arms, and there she would remain, for she could not imagine being separated from him ever again.

She felt such a powerful, overwhelming need to be with him: a heartfelt desire to have him near her, not just for the present, but for all time. She wanted to see his face and learn once again the texture of his skin when she touched it, the feel of his lips upon hers and his words of desire whispered against her skin. She felt a tight coiling in her stomach and knew the knot of desire so strongly that when she closed her eyes, she could feel the touch of his hand upon her and the passion his touch could evoke.
David…

There was so much she wanted to tell him, and she was so very happy that her departure for Aisling would begin shortly. With that thought to inspire her, she threw the bed coverings back and sprang from the bed, tangling her leg in the sheeting, and went sprawling.

She eyed the red spot on her knee and rubbing it, thought, well, the day is off to a good start. She then imagined what a sight she must be, her hair mussed, arms akimbo, legs sprawled, gown riding up to her thighs and…

Oh
my
God!
There he was… in all his shimmering glory, a very young version of the Black Douglas in full armor and looking ready for battle, and she prayed it wasn't against her.

She tugged at her twisted gown and tried to sit up, but the expression on Douglas's face was fair to glowing with amusement, and the hilarity of it sent her into peals of laughter once again. Finally, when she gathered enough breath to speak, she said, “You always seem to catch me at the best possible moment.”

A look of amusement settled upon his face and his eyes sparkled with blue fire. “'Twould be beneficial if ye would tell me if ye wish to be on yer feet, or do ye prefer to spend the morning in yer present sprawl?”

“Truthfully, I do feel the need to get up, but I don't seem to be going about it in the right way, and now that you are here, well…” The words were no more than uttered when she felt herself literally rising off the floor, and with a tilt forward, her feet planted themselves firmly on the stone floor beneath her.

“Ahhh,” she said with a relieved sigh, “that is ever so much better. I don't suppose you would show me how to do that, would you?” She looked down, making certain her gown was in place.

“Dinna worrit, all yer particulars are covered, if that is what ye are concerned aboot.”

“Oh, I'm not. After all, you are a ghost and far removed from earthly yearnings.”

His dark brows rose like two carets over his questioning eyes. “'Twould seem ye think a ghost has no recollection of that which lies deep in the heart's core.”

She frowned and crossed her arms over her chest. Something fishy was going on here, for she had never seen him looking so young and it had been a while since he had worn the Douglas armor. “Okay, out with it. Are you all frisky with youth and dressed to the nines in your best suit of polished armor so you can soften the blow of some bad news you have to give me?”

“What makes ye think I ha' bad news to impart?”

“Well, it does seem to draw you out of hiding from time to time. While I'm waiting, tell me about my sister. How does she fare?”

“The lass blossoms. Motherhood agrees with her.”

“And why the younger version of yourself, which I like, by the way?”

“'Tis one o' the privileges o' ghosting to appear whenever, wherever, and in whatever form, dress, or age ye fancy.”

“You make ghosting sound like something one should aim for.”

“Nae, lass, ye canna neither aim nor ask.”

“Then how did you come to be one?”

“Weel, I dinna ken aboot that,” he said. “All I remember is one moment I was lying on the battlefield on the moors o' Spain, mortally wounded, and the next thing I felt no pain and I saw two of my friends leaning over me whilst the others were battling on, but no one seemed to notice me when I walked amongst them and disappeared, leaving my puir lifeless body to be cared for by the others.”

“So, where did you go? How did you learn about the ghosting rules and such? I would think it would be put into your head, rather than by attending some sort of ghosting school.”

His smile was brilliant, “'Tis sorry I am, lass, but ghosting has its rules, as ye ken, and I canna tell ye all the secrets o' it.”

She shrugged. “I know we've had a nice little chat, but I'm not sure what I learned from it.”

“Weel, that makes two o' us.”

And then he vanished.

No cord nor cable can so forcibly draw,

or hold so fast,

as love can do with a twined thread.

—
The
Anatomy
of
Melancholy
(1621)

Robert Burton (1577–1640)

English poet, essayist, and playwright

It was early in the morning, two days later, when they prepared to leave, just as the dawn was inching across the dark fringe of trees, motionless in the distance. The air was still and as silent as the departing night. Now the gray morning inched slowly forward, cautiously creeping down the flanks of crags, cloaked in a thick misty fog spilling downward toward the firth.

Elisabeth stood on the steps, pressing her cold hands against the warmth of her body beneath her woolen cloak, reminding herself that she had faced the unknown before and survived. A feeling of loneliness swept over her, for she seemed to always be on the move without a place to truly call home, but that was all about to change, for soon she would see David again, and feeling the strength of his arms around her would make everything she had been through fade into the past where it belonged.

After watching the preparations for a while, she was surprised to see that this was a much smaller escort than the group that brought her here, for there were only four men. She smiled to herself, wondering if they had thought they needed more men since she had basically been ordered to come here and they thought she might be difficult to deal with.

She watched the grooms hustling to and fro with blankets and saddles as they prepared the horses, while an occasional clank of a bridle cut through the early morning silence. She heard the ring of spurs as someone approached, and before she could turn to see who it was, someone touched her elbow and said, “Mistress, we are ready to leave now. Allow me to help ye into the saddle.”

She'd had her first horse (and it wasn't a pony) when she was four, but who was she to help usher out chivalry by telling him she could mount by herself as easily as he could? She never thought she would feel this way, but she loved being treated like a lady, so she said, “I would greatly appreciate your assistance. Thank you.”

He nodded and took her by the elbow and escorted her down the steps to where her horse awaited her.

Most of the men were already mounted by the time she was helped into the saddle, and they seemed as eager as her to begin their journey. So she gathered the reins and held them loosely in her hand while she waited for the signal to ride, which she assumed would come once the last of Bosworth's men were mounted.

Almost immediately, those to the front were off at a lope, which was a relaxed, smooth gait, due to the horses' long strides, and quite easy to maintain for long distances. Her horse seemed to know when it was time to go without her urging. They fell into rhythm with the other horses, and their journey began. She found herself riding beside a soldier she thought of as weather-beaten, for he was an older man with leathery skin and he had that easy way of seeming to become one entity with his horse, which reminded her of the weather-beaten cowboys back in Texas. She smiled as she wondered what he would do if she offered him a chew of tobacco. Not that she ever chewed any, of course, but it was a nice thought and mindful of the home and culture she left behind.

After a while, when the monotony of it began to settle in, she tried to focus on David and her reunion with him at Aisling. She truly thought of it as home now, and already she thought of the people there as family, for they had endeared themselves to her with ease. She anticipated seeing them all and basking in the warm, hospitable welcome that she knew awaited her there, not to mention the sheer joy of knowing she had her head on straight when it came to David and she hoped that he would never again feel that Ronan was a threat to the love she bore him. She had much to be thankful for, including the fact that the sidesaddle had yet to be invented so she was allowed the privilege of riding astride, which is what she was accustomed to, having been brought up on a ranch in the hill country near Austin.

Austin…
how odd and far removed that sounded to her now, for she rarely thought of her life in the twenty-first century, and she wondered how she would feel if she suddenly found herself back in Texas.

Would
you
want
to
go
back?

A shiver crossed over her, for it was a question she had for some time avoided for she truly dreaded answering it. There was a time, of course, when she wanted nothing more than to find herself back home, but that all seemed part of her past now, and not her future. She thought of the people she could help with her knowledge of medicine and knew there was no longer a reason for her to wonder, if the question was put to her, would she choose to go or stay. She thought of her wonderful, strong knight and could not imagine being separated from him. David was her life now, and her future. She could not leave him any more than she could leave Isobella, for how could she separate herself from her twin?

They rode into a clearing and she could hear the gurgle of a burn tumbling over rocks nearby. She was thinking this would be a good place to find some privacy, but she hated to ask them to stop just for that however, she could not go on indefinitely without stopping, so she opened her mouth to speak, just as she heard the leader say, “We will stop here to rest the horses and to have something to eat.”

“Something” being the usual: an oatcake, a strip of dried beef, and water, and then they would mount up and be off again. She followed their lead to a place of jutting boulders that she thought was perfect, for it would give her more privacy than a stand of trees. Once they stopped, she dismounted and said, “I need a moment of privacy.”

The leader nodded and said, “'Twas what I had in mind when we stopped here. The other side o' that boulder should afford ye all the privacy ye need.”

On the other side of the boulder, the waters of the burn poured over a small cliff into a pool below. She spotted a tangled screen of rather prickly looking bush and thought it the perfect place.

She wasn't there long and knew the men were probably still seeing to their horses, so she walked a ways to get a closer look at the little waterfall. What happened next passed with such rapidity that it was no more than a blur. One moment she was walking, and the next thing she knew, an arm lashed out to encircle her like a band of steel, while a hand clamped over her mouth. “Scream and I will cut yer throat, lassie. Do ye ken?”

She nodded, thinking the sound of a scream wouldn't have reached Bosworth's men on the other side of the huge bolder, not with the noise coming from the burn tumbling into the pool. Besides, she wouldn't risk her life needlessly, so silent she would be. She felt herself being thrown across a saddle. Her abductor mounted behind her, and spurred his horse forward and into the trees. After a while, they came to more open terrain and he stopped and allowed her to sit in front of him, which was tremendously more comfortable than having her ribs crushed riding the other way.

They crossed the open glen toward another stand of trees, which they entered. “I don't suppose you will tell me where you are taking me.”

“Ye will find oot soon enough.”

He was right, for before too long, they stopped at an old, deserted hunting cabin where she thought they would at least rest before moving on. Instead, they dismounted and he secured his horse before he led her toward the cabin. She was terrified he was going to rape her there, and she was trying to decide what chance she had of outrunning him when the door of the cabin opened. God help her, but she was actually happy to realize she had once again been captured by the MacLeans, for there stood old Angus MacLean himself, looking rather pleased to see her.

“Welcome to my temporary abode,” he said. “I hope yer ride here was a pleasant one.”

“No, it was not. I was terrified he was going to do all manner of horrible things to me before he killed me. How dare you put me through something like this! If you were going to take me prisoner again, why didn't you do it the way you've done before? At least, accustomed as I am to your previous kidnappings, I would have recognized you and not been so terrified. And, how, in God's name, did you know where I was?”

“'Tis sorry I am, lass, but it was time for a change of tactics, fer a repeat o' the past would make it obvious to the Mackinnon that I was behind it. I ha' taken great care to arrange things so that Kinloss and the Mackinnon do not suspect ole Angus MacLean had anything to do wi' it. And to answer yer question, I heard that ye were summoned to Bosworth Castle, so we kept our eye on ye, and when ye were well away from there, I had Lachlan follow ye until he found a suitable place where he could seize ye and bring ye here.”

“Why didn't you do it yourself?”

Angus stroked his chin as if in thought. “Ah, lassie, 'tis a disappointment ye are, fer I figured ye for a smarter lass than that. If I captured ye, Bosworth's men would ha' recognized me, and the earl's men would have reported it to Bosworth, who would have told Lord Kinloss, who would have notified Alysandir Mackinnon, and… weel, ye can see what a passel o' trouble all of that would ha' been. This way, I can take ye back to Duart, and no one will know I ha' ye, and I willna have to worrit aboot Mackinnon or Kinloss coming to yer rescue until I have ye all married to Fergus and then it will be too late.”

“You aren't still stuck on me marrying Fergus, are you? No priest would dare force a marriage on a woman who refused to say anything resembling a marriage vow, and on top of that, I refuse to say one word that would unite me with him. As soon as I return to Aisling Castle, I will marry the Earl of Kinloss.”

“Ah, lassie, ye disappoint me again, fer I already have a priest that will stoop that low.”

“I would think a forced marriage would be grounds for divorce,” she said, thinking it wouldn't be too many years in the future when Henry VIII had his marriage to Catherine of Aragon declared null and void so he could marry Anne Boleyn. Of course, she wasn't exactly the Queen of England, either. She sighed and decided to let the matter settle in her mind before she stepped into the arena of distress. For now, she would make the most of it; she knew the best way to deal with Angus was to charm him, so charm him she would.

After all, she had been their prisoner before and Fergus had wanted to marry her then, and she managed to be rescued by Alysandir before the wedding could take place. And if nothing else, she still had Sir James hovering out there somewhere.

They readied themselves to begin their trek to the Isle of Mull, and she had no idea how long that would take, for she wasn't certain exactly where they were. She only knew they had taken a different route on the way back than they had taken on the trip to Bosworth Castle, due to flooded rivers that would be too dangerous to cross.

Before mounting again and riding for what seemed an eternity, she noticed that the sun began to drop lower, leaving the crags in deep shadow. She managed to learn the name of one of them by asking Angus, who replied in a hospitable fashion.

“'Tis Creag an Duilisg, that begins at Loch Achaidh na h-Inich,” he said, “and it gives me pleasure to see ye taking an interest in yer surroundings.”

She remained quiet, for she did enjoy seeing new parts of Scotland whenever she traveled. Even as a child, she had always been one to notice her surroundings. This seemed odd to her parents, for they thought it would have been Isobella who took such an interest in her surroundings, due to her becoming an archaeologist. But, it always held a special allure for Elisabeth, for even now, in spite of her being a prisoner of MacLean, she was absorbed with the surrounding terrain and how it gradually changed as one went along, in such a slow manner that one hardly noticed it.

She did recall Isobella saying that the landscape and place names of these Northwestern Highlands seemed intimately connected to their Celtic heritage. As they passed by the island-scattered bay of a loch, she was in awe of the sweeping vistas of both sea and snow-covered mountains, framed by forested hillsides that melted into crags that seemed to reach down to the deep, dark waters of the Atlantic. Being able to see the sea, even from so far away, meant they were getting closer, but they were still quite a distance from the Isle of Mull and the Western Highlands.

“Where are we exactly and what loch is that?”

He looked in the direction she was pointing and said, “That would be Loch Carron.”

She knew Loch Carron was a sea loch on the west coast of Ross and Cromarty, where the River Carron entered the North Atlantic. She also knew they would have to stop somewhere for the night, for it was too great a distance to ride before nightfall.

They rode through a sodden wooded area, thick with foliage and deep, dark shadows, which did little to help with the lifting of her spirits. It began to rain again, hard and pelting, which stung her face and her hands, holding the dripping reins. Her fingers were red from the cold and she would give anything to stop and take her gloves out of her pouch, but she knew it would only take up precious time. All in all, she was more than ready to get wherever it was that she was going, for she was beginning to feel like a lost gypsy.

Without thinking, she reached up to touch the coin around her neck, as she often did without thinking. Only this time it was different, for when she reached for the coin, it was not there. “Oh my God! I've lost my necklace!”

Angus turned his head toward her, seemingly in no hurry to ask, “Where do ye think ye lost it?”

“I don't know,” she said, feeling so upset over losing one of the few things she had that came with her from America. “It was irreplaceable.”

Angus turned toward her. “Weel, dinna surrender to grieving over yer loss just yet. Mayhap we will find it and all yer worry will be fer naught. When did ye see it last?”