Chapter Ten
The day before Midsummer’s Eve
The raiders came down upon the little group in the wood unexpectedly, like wolves, in broad daylight.
Cait, the brides, and the children, along with Coll and Hector, had left the castle and gone into the woods to gather boughs and flowers for the midsummer garlands.
The smallest children bore baskets for flowers, and the bigger ones carried rowan and hawthorn branches. The brides wore pretty gowns trimmed with more of the coverlets from Cait’s towering bed, and they glowed in bright colors that matched their eyes, or complemented their hair, or turned their skin to creamy perfection. She’d grown to like each and every one of the lasses.
The outing also served to get everyone out of the way while Janet and the servants scoured every inch of the castle in one last, desperate search for the ring.
“We’ll need holly and ivy for the wedding crowns,” Fiona said. “And Saint John’s wort, and meadowsweet, and mistletoe.”
“And herbs for the wedding chalice,” Coira added. “Lavender, and skullcap, and rose.”
“Is there mugwort growing nearby?” Nessa asked Coll.
“Aye. What do ye want it for?”
“If ye put just a wee bit of it under your pillow, you’ll dream of your future mate,” she told him. “We want to see which of us dreams of the laird. Will ye try it yourself, Coll?”
He blushed and shook his head, frowning with mock disapproval, though his eye twinkled. “Go along with young Tam, lassies—he’ll show ye where to look.”
The brides went happily off on their own with the boy while Cait stayed with the children. Hector Munro glared silently at everyone, especially Cait, and watched the woods warily while Coll helped to cut branches and carried the littlest ones when they grew tired. He told them stories, and he knew from long years of experience where the best patches of berries grew, deep in the wood and out of sight of the castle or the river.
They heard hoofbeats before they saw the raiders, felt the pounding of the horses through the dense earth. Coll turned to stare down the path with his one good eye, and Hector drew his sword.
Hector reached for Cait, but Coll pushed her off the path.
“Sutherlands! Hide yourself and the wee ones.”
Cait didn’t hesitate. She grabbed the hands of the nearest children and led them into the undergrowth. “Quickly now—we’ll go into the bushes and hide. We’ll stay quiet and won’t come out until they’ve gone past.”
“Will they find us?” Megan asked her, her blue eyes wide.
Cait picked her up and carried her deeper into the wood as the riders came nearer. “I hope not. I truly hope not,” she answered the child, her own heart pounding. Coll yelled a challenge, and other men cursed him, and Cait heard the terrible clash of weapons as she ran down into a gully and made sure the children were hidden under the thick ferns before she curled in beside them.
“Caisteal Folais ’na Theine!” Coll bellowed the Munro battle cry, and Cait concentrated on holding the children still, keeping them quiet, hoping that Coll and Hector would prevail, that no one would be hurt.
She heard the grunts and cries of men fighting, the whine and caper of wheeling horses. She heard Coll yell a curse, and the horses thundered away again, and there was a terrible silence. The children were crying, but their sobs were silent. They were used to raids now, knew to hold their breath and their fear until it was over.
“Come out! Where the devil are ye?” She heard Coll crashing through the undergrowth as he came down the hill, and she rose.
“Here. We’re safe.” She saw blood on Coll’s forehead and started toward him. “Coll, are you—”
Coll slapped her hand away and glared at her, his sword still clutched in his fist. He pointed toward the track. “Those were Sutherlands, mistress. Your kin. This time they’ve taken Hector.” He pointed his sword at her breast, and she stood very still, wondering if he’d use it on her.
“We’ve got to get back to tell the laird,” she said quietly.
Coll cursed and began to grab the children, who still stood with Cait. “Get away from her. Run home now, through the wood. Sound the alarm. Your legs are faster than mine. Go, all of ye.” Still he held the sword pointed at Cait, his face grim. “Not you, mistress. You’ll stay with me, and we’ll go back together. If ye try to escape, I’ll cut your throat, for Hector. He was right. We should have ransomed ye when we had the chance. Now we’ll be lucky to exchange ye for Hector, if they don’t murder him first.”
“I didn’t—” she began, but he growled at her.
“Silence! They asked for ye by name, know you’re here. Let’s go.”
Baird knew . . .
She didn’t bother to argue. She watched the children leap through the undergrowth and disappear. The baskets of flowers lay abandoned, the joy of the day turned to terror.
“Coll, I’m not—” she began as he drove her forward on the point of his blade, but another yell sounded from the direction the Sutherlands had taken.
Coll spun, scanning the trees. He turned back to her.
“Sit ye down right here and wait for me,” he ordered. “I’ll not let them murder Hector in cold blood.”
And with that he hurried away and left Cait alone.
* * *
“The Sutherlands! The Sutherlands!”
Alex heard the children screaming as they raced through the castle gate, and he hurried out to meet them. The youngest ones were crying, their eyes wide with terror. The older ones were muddy and grass stained, out of breath from running and carrying their wee siblings.
The brides had come back with herbs and flowers an hour since, but the children carried nothing.
He knelt before the eldest lad. “What happened?”
“We were picking flowers with Mistress Cait when the Sutherlands came. Coll told us to run home and warn ye, Laird.”
Alex looked over the lad’s shoulder at the gate, expecting to see Coll and Cait following, but the track was empty. His belly caved against his spine, and he squeezed the boy’s shoulders. “Where are they, lad?”
But the boy shook his head. “I don’t know. Coll said the Sutherlands took Hector, Laird. Coll said it was Mistress Cait’s fault.”
Alex turned and ran toward the stables. “I need a horse,” he bellowed.
* * *
The path was right here—or it should be. She’d led the children into the gully, which lay behind her. But when she turned, there was a hill instead, and the ferns and underbrush were undisturbed by any sign of a track. Cait felt her heart climb into her throat.
She was lost again.
She’d picked up a stout stick and followed Coll, sure she could talk to the Sutherlands, convince them to release Hector and leave Munro territory. Even if the Munros didn’t believe her, the Sutherlands were perfectly aware that she was indeed the daughter of one of the most powerful men in Scotland. They knew exactly what the Fearsome MacLeod would do to the kind of men who preyed on a weaker clan.
But the father and faster she walked, the more lost she became. The sun began to dip toward the horizon, and the shadows lengthened, and still she wandered through an endless tract of forest. There was no sign of anyone. She pushed her hair off her sweaty face and longed for a drink. A drink would come from a stream, and a stream would lead her to the river. Culmore Castle stood beside the river . . .
But she couldn’t find a stream. She couldn’t find anything familiar at all.
* * *
Alex found Coll on the track, walking back toward Culmore. He frowned when he saw Alex coming. “I’ve failed ye, Laird. The Sutherlands took Hector, the captain of the guard, the very flower of our fighting men, the best of—”
“What of Cait MacLeod?” Alex asked.
Coll’s scowl deepened. “I told her to wait while I went after Hector. When I returned she was gone.”
Alex’s hands tightened on the reins. “Did the Sutherlands take her?”
Coll shrugged. “They didn’t pass me on the path, but she might have found her own way back to them . . .”
Tell my father I’m lost again . . . Alex recalled what she’d asked him to write to Donal MacLeod. He thought of how she often took the wrong corridor or walked into the wrong room, though she’d been at Culmore for several weeks. He looked around at the thick forest.
Or perhaps she’d planned this, betrayed him and the folk who had befriended and sheltered her, and returned to the Sutherlands, to Baird.
Her betrothed. His belly tensed.
He dismounted. “How long since you left her?” he asked Coll.
“Nigh on three hours. I followed the Sutherlands’ tracks until they crossed the river, but I couldn’t go on alone.”
Three hours . . . Even on foot she could be all the way to Rosecairn in six hours or so—if she knew her way.
Alex tossed the reins to Coll. “Ride back to Culmore. Alert the guards. Check the village, watch for signs of any more raiders.”
“Ye can’t mean to go alone, Laird, and on foot,” Coll said.
“Go—I need ye at the castle. Keep the gate closed, watch for trouble,” Alex said.
With that he stalked off down the path, wondering if he’d been a fool and lost his heart to a clever spy, or if Cait was simply lost again and waiting for someone to find her.