Highlander's Wicked Game: Scottish Medieval Highlander Romance Novel Read online

  How will they e’er find me? Panic seized her, and she squeezed her eyes shut in an attempt to calm herself. She tried to distract herself by thinking of happier times in her life. She thought of her childhood days, playing freely about the island, her mother singing her to sleep, attending the spring gatherings, dancing with Duncan. If she concentrated hard enough, she could almost feel his arms around her waist as he swung her about. His eyes laughed above hers in mischievous delight. Those eyes… I ken those eyes. She went through her memories, attempting to ascertain where she had seen him before. Mayhap at another gatherin’?

  Her father’s voice echoed through her mind, ‘Marra, ye are ne’er tae play with a Campbell, ever! Do ye hear me?’

  The lad from the gatherin’ when we were bairns! It was Duncan! She had thought of that boy so many times. When her father had dragged her away, she had cried and cried to return to play. It had been the last gathering she had been allowed to attend. Her mother had died shortly thereafter, and her entire world had changed. He is a Campbell… Faither will be enraged, if he has no’ already killed him. Marra knew that Diana would have told the laird everything by now. She hoped her maid had not been punished for her actions and that her father had not harmed Duncan in any way. She would not be able to live with the guilt of being responsible for a war between their clans.

  The Clan Campbell had already taken everything they could from the Clan MacDonald, and even though Fergus Campbell had not been involved directly, her father blamed all Campbells for the MacDonalds’ fall from prestige. All it would take was the smallest of embers to fan her father’s hatred into an uncontrollable, murderous blaze. A war between the clans could mean the end of her people. The lairds’ common love of the Jacobite cause would not stop them from killing each other if her father murdered Fergus Campbell’s only son. Her heart constricted in her chest at the thought. If her father had killed Duncan, believing him to be responsible for her disappearance, and war had broken out between the clans, then that meant not only were her people in danger, but it would also mean that no one was looking for her, and she would indeed die where she lay.

  Marra sobbed in fear and despair at the thought. I must get free. She leveraged herself with her elbows and rolled her body toward the door. Thunder rumbled overhead shaking the earth. Dust fell down from the ceiling, landing on her face, making her cough. Marra rolled back, covering her face with her hands to protect herself. When the dust cleared, she tried to open her eyes, but could not see through the tears. She swiped at her eyes, scratching her cheek with the ropes that bound her wrists. The door banged open behind her. She turned to peer through the gloom to see if it was the wind or her captor. The sound of a flintlock pistol cocking echoed through the chamber causing her to freeze in her tracks. She closed her eyes and waited for the shot that would end her life. I will be with ye soon, Maither.

  Chapter Six

  As soon as there was enough light to see, Duncan and the MacDonald warriors set out in search of Marra’s trail. The MacDonalds took one side of the stream, while he took the other. They traveled quite a way upstream before they found it. “’Tis here,” he called over his shoulder.

  “Nae, ‘tis here,” one of the MacDonald warriors argued.

  Confused, Duncan looked up to find that the trail led both ways away from the stream. “Are ye sure ‘tis the same?”

  “Aye, a highland pony carryin’ two traveled this way.”

  “’Tis the same here,” he replied gesturing towards the ground. “They cannae both be Marra.”

  “We will follow this trail.”

  Duncan eyed the sky. “The storm is fast upon us. Ye will need tae seek shelter.”

  “We MacDonalds dinnae cower in fear from a wee bit o’ rain.”

  Duncan shook his head at their hubris. “Only a fool would ignore a mountain storm.”

  The MacDonalds jeered at his concerns and took off in pursuit of their chosen trail. Duncan turned to follow the one on his side of the stream. He placed Marra’s arisaid under the hound’s nose. The animal sniffed around, but could not get a scent. Duncan moved down the trail hoping it would be able to pick up the scent further away from the water’s edge. A ways down the trail, the hound took off in pursuit. Duncan followed close on its heels. Rain pelted down upon his face as the wind howled around him. The trees bent and swayed overhead, causing a large branch to crash down on the trail in front of him obscuring the path. He maneuvered his horse around it and kept going.

  The rain increased in intensity, creating a wall of water all about him. Lightening split the sky. The hound whimpered and hid beneath Duncan’s horse. He could barely see the ground in front of him. He needed to seek shelter or he would not be alive to save anyone. He gave a brief thought to the MacDonald warriors hoping they had taken his advice to seek shelter before it was too late, but he could not worry about them now. He forged ahead, searching for a place to take cover. He peered through the downpour searching for a cave or a rock outcropping that he could crawl under, but could not find anything. The crack of a nearby tree falling sounded in the distance startling his horse. The highland pony skirted sideways and took off running. Duncan attempted to soothe her and just barely got her stopped before she ran into the wall of a dilapidated croft.

  Thanks be tae God.

  Duncan dismounted and left his horse in a lean-to structure off to the side of the croft. The building looked as though it had not been maintained in quite some time. He left the lean-to and made his way to the front door of the croft. He tried the handle. As soon as the latch gave way, the wind swept the door from his fingers and slammed it against the wall. A warm amber glow from embers in the fireplace lit the far end of the croft. Movement on the floor caught his eye, and he drew his pistol and cocked it.

  “Please dinnae kill me,” the dark lump on the floor begged.

  “Marra?” Duncan would have recognized her voice anywhere. He searched the croft for the presence of her captors, but found no one else.

  “Duncan?”

  “Aye, I am here.” He bent down and moved the hair from her face. Her cheeks were wet with tears, and his heart went out to her. She looked relatively unharmed. “Are ye harmed, lass? Did they…” he could hardly bring himself to ask the question.

  “Nae, I have no’ been violated.”

  “Who took ye?”

  “I dinnae ken.”

  “Where are they?”

  “I dinnae ken. He left and has no’ returned.”

  Duncan pulled his sgian dubh and cut her bonds, setting her free. The moment she was set loose, she threw her arms around his neck and sobbed in relief. “How did ye find me?”

  “Whoever took ye did no’ cover their tracks verra well. I dinnae believe they cared if ye were found or no’. Do ye remember anythin’ about them?”

  “Only his voice. If I were tae hear it again I would ken the man. I wounded him afore he left, but no’ fatally.” She stood up and moved toward the door.

  “I ken that ye wish tae leave, lass, but we cannae travel in this storm.”

  “I must go out and…” The look on her face said everything that her words did not.

  “Stay near the croft. Dinnae go any further than the door.”

  “I…” She blushed bright red in the dim light, then turned and left the croft. Rain spattered the floor from the open door as the wind blew through the room.

  Duncan smiled in spite of himself at her embarrassment. He moved to the fireplace and stoked the dying embers into a flame. When Marra returned, she was soaked to the bone and shivering so hard her teeth chattered. “Ye need tae get out o’ those clothes afore ye catch yer death.”

  “I cannae undress with ye here.” Her horrified expression was almost humorous.

  “I will turn my back and ye can hide under the blankets on the bed.” The bed coverings had holes in them from moths and mice, but they would have to do for the time being. He moved over to the bed and shook out the blankets to ensure that there were not an
y creatures crawling about among them. It looked as though someone had been using the croft off and on for hunting, but that no one actually lived there. He was reasonably sure that her captors would not be able to return until the storm had passed.

  Marra bent over to remove her shoes and stumbled forward clutching her head. “Och.”

  Duncan moved forward, concerned, and grabbed her elbow to steady her. “I saw blood on the ground as I followed ye. Were ye wounded, lass?”

  “My head,” she whispered gasping in pain.

  Duncan reached up to feel her skull and found her hair matted with blood. “Och, I’m sorry, lass. Let me clean yer wound.” He grabbed a wooden bowl from the table and stepped outside long enough to clean it off and gather some rain water. He brought her over to the firelight so that he could see her wound and did his best to wash the blood from her hair. He needed to get a better look at it to ensure that she would not suffer any permanent damage. The wound was deeper than he would have liked, but it did not appear to have cracked the skull bones. He did not have a needle or thread to sew her wound with. The thought occurred to him that if he could find a needle among the croft’s scattered belongings then he could use a hair from his pony’s tail as thread. He searched the length and breadth of the croft, but came up with nothing. Unable to sew the wound shut, he tore a strip of his shirt and bound her head to protect it as best he could. Her stomach growled ,and he smiled. “I have a bit o’ bannock in my bag. When ye have changed out o’ yer wet clothes I will bring it tae ye.”

  “I thank ye for yer kindness.”

  “’Tis no’ anythin’, lass.” He turned away and allowed her to disrobe in relative privacy.

  “Does my faither ken that I am gone?”

  “Aye, he kens it well.”

  “Did he harm ye?”

  “Nae, but he wished tae do so and still will if I dinnae return ye tae him.”

  “I am sorry, Duncan.”

  “’Tis no’ yer fault, lass. ‘Tis the fault o’ the men that took ye. They are the ones who have much tae fear from me and yer faither.”

  “How will ye find them?”

  “Perhaps they will return here once the storm has ceased and save me the trouble o’ huntin’ them down.”

  “I pray they dinnae return. I cannae bear the thought o’ it.”

  “I have barred the door. They will no’ be able tae enter without my say.”

  “Duncan?”

  “Aye?”

  “Thank ye for comin’ for me.” He could not see her face, but he could hear the tears in her voice.

  “Always,” he promised. “Always.”

  A hand touched his back and he turned to face her. Her emerald green eyes brimmed with tears, causing them to sparkle in the firelight like jewels in a crown. Her scarlet locks flowed down around her bare shoulders in stark contrast to her pale creamy skin. He longed to reach out and caress it, but the fearful way in which she clutched the blanket about her naked body gave him pause. She had been through quite enough without him adding to it by his lustful desires.

  “Ye are a bonnie lass tae be sure.”

  She blushed at his compliment and averted her eyes in embarrassment. He handed her the promised bannock with a cup of rainwater he had gathered and she turned away to go and sit upon the bed in the corner. The firelight danced upon her crimson tresses making them appear as flames about her head. A bonnier lass I have ne’er seen afore. He came to sit in a chair by the fire across from her.

  “I remember ye,” she said as she stared at him from her perch upon the bed.

  “I should hope that ye would,” Duncan commented, confused by her statement. They had only just met at the gathering, and she had not seemed to be weak of mind.

  She laughed at what he assumed was the look of confusion on his face. “Nae, I remember ye from when we were but bairns. Ye were watchin’ the men tossin’ cabers, and I came up behind ye and pulled on yer hair. Ye gave chase, and we played, runnin’ around the gatherin’ grounds until our faithers came and dragged us away from each other.”

  “That was ye?”

  “Aye. ‘Twas the last gatherin’ I was e’er allowed tae attend. My maither died soon after and faither ne’er wished tae attend e’er again.”

  “That explains why I had ne’er seen ye afore. I kenned that had I e’er seen ye as ye are now, I would have noticed and nae forgotten.”

  She blushed again and smiled. “I kenned I had seen yer eyes afore, but did no’ remember from where or when until I lay there on the floor bound with nothin’ tae do but think.”

  “I dinnae envy ye that, lass, but dinnae fash. I will find who did this tae ye and they will pay with their lives.” His tone conveyed that he meant what he said. “Did they seek a ransom?”

  “He claimed that he did no’. The man said somethin’ about wantin’ tae be laird.”

  “Do ye mean tae tell me that it was one o’ yer own clan?”

  “Nae, he said he did no’ want to be the MacDonald laird. I dinnae ken what he meant. He was mad.”

  “Aye, that has been made clear by his taken ye and leavin’ ye alone tae rot.”

  “I dinnae ken any more than that. It sounded as if he wished tae do the Clan MacDonald harm, but that he wished tae claim another clan’s lairdship.”

  “The only clans that takin’ ye has harmed are the MacDonalds and my own. Had I nae made yer faither see reason, he would have killed me before my own faither’s eyes. He still may.”

  “I feared that he would have killed ye, and my heart could no’ bear the thought o’ it. The thought o’ war between our clans would be disastrous. I have ne’er understood our faithers’ feud, but I kenned all tae well that the blame for my disappearance would be laid at yer feet once my maid Diana told my faither where I had gone. Do ye ken why they hate each other so?”

  “Nae, I dinnae,” Duncan lied. He knew many reasons why they hated each other, but he did not feel it was his place to tell her.

  “’Tis the foolishness o’ auld men.”

  Duncan smiled at her bold speech. “Aye, that it is.”

  She finished her bannock and water, laid the cup on the floor at her feet, then curled up in a ball upon the bed. She was still shivering, and his heart went out to her. He stood and walked over to the bed. His tartan was wet from riding through the rain, so he unbuckled his belt and let it drop to the floor. She squeaked in shock like a little mouse, and he laughed at the sound. He picked up his tartan and laid it over the chair to dry. He took a blanket from the bed and wrapped it about his waist for her modesty’s sake, then removed his torn shirt and laid it out to dry as well. He moved toward her, and she scampered back to the farthest corner of the bed in fear. “I will no’ harm ye, lass. I simply wish tae help ye.”

  “But ye are…”

  “Braw?” he teased.

  “Naked!” she exclaimed, choking on the word. Her eyes stared at his bare chest as if it were the most deliciously obscene thing she had ever laid eyes upon.

  “Aye.” He tried his best not to offend her by laughing more than he already was. “I dinnae want tae make the bed wet. We need tae stay warm, and with so little dry wood tae be had, the only way left tae us is tae keep each other warm.”

  He could see the uncertainty in her eyes as he sat down upon the bed and held his arm out for her to come closer. She hesitated, but when another chill caused her to shiver so hard her teeth snapped together, she moved forward and allowed herself to be pulled into his embrace. “I will ne’er do anythin’ tae harm ye, Marra. I swear it on all that is holy. I will protect ye tae my last dyin’ breath.”

  Chapter Seven

  Marra could not believe her own brazenness as she moved into Duncan’s arms. His arms and chest were bare, corded with muscle. She laid her head on his shoulder as he wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close. She clutched the blanket to her naked body as if her very life depended upon it. His body exuded heat as if he had his own internal fireplace. The feel of his bare skin b
eneath her cheek was unlike anything she had ever experienced before. For the first time since her capture, she felt safe and cared for. His hand caressed her hair, and she nestled more closely to him in an attempt to absorb his body’s heat. He took her hand in his and held it against his chest over his heart. When she felt the beat of his heart beneath her palm, she smiled remembering how it had felt when they danced together.

  “I am glad it was ye that found me and nae one o’ my faither’s men,” she admitted quietly.