The Highlander's Heart (17 page)

Campbell took a deep breath and released the anxiety, bordering on panic, he had suppressed for the past several days. The midday sun filtered down through the trees in yellow ribbons. He had found her. Cait was alive. It was a moment to cherish.

“What now?” asked Dain.

And the moment was over. Campbell had sent Cait on ahead with Gill, and Finn and half his men to protect her. She needed to get off dangerous McNab land and return home as quick as may be.

Campbell’s joy and utter relief at finding Cait alive was tempered by the grim task of having to deal with her abductor. She had pleaded for him, but Campbell had seen with his own eyes this young man take scandalous advantage of his sister. Not to mention being found with two of Campbell’s stolen horses. He was definitely one of the men who kidnapped Cait. A McNab no doubt, given their location.

The captured McNab sat slumped against a tree, his head on his knees. Campbell walked over to him and kicked his boot. McNab looked up, revealing a youthful face. Campbell shook his head. It was sad to see a lad so young go bad. The lad had been crying, probably out of fear for his life. He should be afraid.

“What is yer name, lad?” Campbell received no reply. “Tell me true what happened to Lady Cait.”

The dejected youth shook his head and remained silent. Campbell wanted answers. He wanted to know who had abducted Cait and why she had begged for this lad’s life to be spared. He could no doubt beat out the truth, but that was not Campbell’s way.

Campbell turned to answer his brother. “Dain, mount up the men to ride. When we arrive at Innis Chonnel tomorrow, we’ll need to gather our forces and march against McNab. This cur did not act alone in abducting Cait. I will not rest until I have the man responsible.”

“Nay, wait,” said the youth. “Dinna march against the McNab clan; they are innocent in this.”

“Then tell me who abducted my sister,” growled Campbell.

The lad struggled to his feet and glanced around at Campbell’s men who surrounded him. “It was me, Andrew McNab. I did it. I took the Lady Cait and her maid.”

“Ye dinna do this alone. Who else was wi’ ye?”

“Some ruffians I hired. Not McNab’s men. Please, dinna punish my clan for something that was my fault alone.”

“Where is the maid, Alys?”

“She is safe, I swear it. She will be returned to ye.”

“If ye were the one who captured Cait, why did she say ye did no’ take her?”

“I… I made a deal wi’ her that I would free her if she dinna tell it was me.”

“When I caught ye, ye were not freeing her, ye were molesting her. Do ye care to explain that?”

Andrew looked down at his shoes. “Part of the deal was she would give me a kiss.”

Campbell slapped the lad, who crumpled to the ground. “Deceitful knave. Ye were no’ going to release her, were ye?”

Andrew shook his bowed head and spoke in a voice barely audible. “I wanted to marry her.”

Campbell grunted. “Instead ye will be taken to Innis Chonnel where ye will receive a fair trial. If ye are found guilty of abducting the Lady Cait, which I have little doubt ye will be, I will sentence ye to hang.”

Andrew McNab’s shoulders slumped further. A more dejected lad Campbell had never seen.

Campbell urged his men to move quickly to get off McNab land before they ran into trouble. He made sure the prisoner was well secured for the journey, with guards ahead and behind him. Campbell was not convinced that he had gotten the whole truth from the young McNab, but at least Cait was safe. That was all that truly mattered. His responsibility now was to make an example of this man, to prevent knaves and thieves from molesting his sisters in the future. It was an unpleasant task, but he would see it done.

“Dain, I want you to go ahead, get this bastard off McNab soil and on the road back home. I need to go to St. Margaret’s to let the others know we have found Cait alive.”

“Shall we not go with ye to St. Margaret’s?”

“Nay. I dinna wish to give the lad an opportunity to claim sanctuary or for his kin to ambush us on the road. Ride hard, make haste. Dinna wait for me.”

Dain nodded in response and they soon started their journey back home.

Campbell watched them silently, saying a prayer of protection over his clan until they rounded a turn and disappeared from sight. Campbell spurred his mount and galloped south toward St. Margaret’s. He needed to talk to his friends who had joined the search. He also wanted to see Isabelle again.

This time would undoubtedly be the last. He was forced to remind himself that she was a conniving English tart, but even that could not keep his thoughts from curling around her memory and holding her tight against his lonely heart.

***

David Campbell reached the sanctuary of St. Margaret’s by late afternoon, but thick fog rolled in, banking the convent, shutting out the waning sun of twilight. The gray void surrounding him was oppressive.

Campbell urged his mount forward through the gates, his eyes scanning the mist for the particular person he wished to see. One more time. Once more, he reasoned with himself. To say good-bye, that was all. He tried to give himself a convincing reason, but truly what he wished to do was carry Isabelle back to the hayloft and celebrate his success in a more intimate manner.

Campbell shook off these thoughts and slung himself off his horse He needed to focus on his task and return to his brothers. He found his friends in the meeting room, the dense fog driving them back to St. Margaret’s early. Padyn MacLaren sat with his back to the far wall, his thick arms folded across his chest. Chaumont leaned against the mantel, chatting easily with his stepson Gavin Patrick.

“Lady Cait’s been found,” announced Campbell. “She is alive but distraught. I have sent her home with most of my men.”

The men all made noises of joy, commending Campbell for his good fortune. Even MacLaren stood and clapped him on the shoulder, looking relieved.

“But how did you find her?” asked Chaumont.

“I decided to have a talk with McNab,” continued Campbell, “but before we got too far into his territory we came upon Cait being… being molested by a McNab.”

“Ye killed him,” stated MacLaren.

“That was my plan, but Cait pleaded for his life. She said he was no’ the man who abducted her. She was distraught, so I sent her home. I sent the McNab back to Innis Chonnel for trial. Do ye accept this decision?” Campbell asked Gavin the question.

Gavin’s eyes grew wide and glanced around the room, confused. Campbell sighed. Gavin was a good lad, but he was a lad. As her legal fiancé he had first rights to dispatch the man who had abducted Cait. Not that Gavin looked anything other than uncomfortable in the situation.

“Ye have the right to choose who sees to the man who stole the Lady Cait,” MacLaren explained to Gavin.

“And two o’ my best mares,” added Campbell.

“Oh, well, I…” stammered Gavin.

“Perhaps you would like Campbell to see to the matter?” suggested Chaumont.

“Aye, that would be verra good,” breathed Gavin.

Campbell nodded. “About Cait. I ken Lady Graham wished for her to come to Dundaff Castle soon, but I sent her home after her fright. I would like to give her some time to recover.”

“Aye, she should take all the time she needs,” said Gavin with earnest eyes. “Please allow her as much time as she would like and even more, to be sure she’s recovered.”

Campbell gave Gavin a small smile. The lad was clearly in no rush to wed. Not that he could blame the lad for that. “Thank ye, all, for yer help in searching for Cait. I dinna ken what I would do if she were lost forever.”

MacLaren clasped his shoulder. “I am much relieved she was found. If e’er ye need help, we are always willing to come to yer aid. Ye have stood by us in trouble and we will ne’er forget it, my friend.”

“Thank ye.”

“Will you stay the night at the convent?” asked Chaumont.

“Nay, I need to catch up to my clan and make sure no harm comes to them. I will send a missive to McNab to demand the return of Cait’s maid and start for home.”

“And if McNab does not return this maid?” asked MacLaren.

Campbell smiled. “Then I will have the pleasure o’ returning with a larger force to put an end to McNab’s miserable existence.”

“Send word and I will gladly join ye,” said MacLaren.

“Thank ye. I can always rely on ye, my friend.”

Chaumont laughed, a mischievous twinkle in his eye, and put his arms around Campbell’s and MacLaren’s shoulders. “Ah, what merry mayhem we shall have. We can only hope McNab will not relinquish the girl so we can ride to glorious battle, eh,
mes
amis
?” Chaumont laughed again at the dark looks of his more somber comrades.

“I must away,” said Campbell.

“Godspeed.”

***

Isabelle spent most of her day trying not to think of David Campbell. He was not her man. Besides, he had his own troubles and she certainly had hers. It was time to forget him and try to solve her own problems, namely, her husband.

Mother Enid was still away from the convent and though the nuns expected her back that day, none could say when. The nuns answered her questions in peaceful tones and glided off to do whatever it was nuns did. She needed to be patient and wait. Unfortunately, Isabelle was adept at neither.

After a simple supper, Isabelle saw a black-robed figure striding across the convent grounds, his large form a stark contrast to the small figures of the nuns around him.

“Who is that?” she asked one of the nuns.

“He is the Abbot Barrick.”

“An abbot! He is the one I should speak to.”

“Nay, please wait for Mother Enid.”

But Isabelle was done with waiting. Who knew what had happened to her people in her absence? She needed to return to England, and she needed help. Isabelle hustled after him, but paused in her approach. Perhaps it had something to do with the large sword he had strapped to his belt, or perhaps it was the menacing scowl on his face, but Abbot Barrick’s appearance did not invite intrusion.

Standing tall, she reminded herself that though she had many faults, cowardice was not among them. He was her last hope and she was not about to let a brusque façade scare her away from the chance of ending her disastrous marriage.

The abbot was moving at a fast clip and entered the building before she could reach him. Isabelle hiked up her skirts and ran, unladylike though it was. She burst through the door, breathless. The room was dark but she did not slow her step and ran straight into a solid object. She bounced off and staggered backward, barely retaining her footing, as the injured party bellowed his displeasure. She had run into the abbot.

“What the devil are you about?” roared the abbot.

“I-I wish to speak to you,” stammered Isabelle, gasping for breath.

“I have no wish to speak to you. Remove yourself.”

“But I must ask you for—”

The abbot did not wait for her to finish and brushed past her into a side chamber. Isabelle was a bit surprised; she had thought men of God to be a bit more polite, but stumbled after him anyway.

“But I need most urgently to ask for sanctuary.”

“Denied. Be on your way, English.”

“But if I am returned to my husband, he will surely kill me.”

“That is no doubt a devious falsehood. The beating he will give you will be most deserved.”

Isabelle gasped at his callous response. She flushed hot and her blood turned molten. How dare he speak to her thus. “I am the Lady Tynsdale and you would do well to listen to me.”

Abbot Barrick turned on his heel and glared at her. Blood pounded in her ears but she would not back down now.

“I wish to have my marriage dissolved. I have lived at Alnsworth with my uncle and guardian all my life. Unfortunately, my uncle had been in conflict with my lawful husband for many years. Now that my uncle has passed, my husband, the Lord Tynsdale, wishes to affect his revenge against my people. The marriage must be dissolved to prevent Tynsdale from taking Alnsworth.”

“And what is this to me?” asked the abbot.

“In return for an annulment I would make a sizable donation to the Church. Or—or join the convent and give all my worldly possessions to the Church.”

The abbot regarded her through thin slits of eyes. His face was hard, his eyes were steel. She was wrong in assuming beneath the gruff exterior was a kindly old man. There was no kindness in him, only a bitter, calculating mind.

“And what possessions do you think you own? If you are married it all belongs rightfully to your husband.”

“But if my marriage was dissolved, my inheritance—”

“Would no doubt be claimed by your greedy king.” Barrick tapped his fingertips together. “Your husband, Lord Tynsdale, he is wealthy?”

“Yes, ’tis true, but I fear he may be out of favor with his king, another reason I wish to end the connection.” She cared not for the fickle preference of her king, but considered this would be the type of argument that would make sense to the abbot’s cold heart.