"Or with the pain? I have been told a man’s Roger can be this big, as big as a bulls," and she held up her hands in such an exaggeration that both girls tumbled back into their seats in fits of laughter once again.
"But what does he do with it?" The young maid had no idea.
"Why, he sticks it inside you and wiggles it about until he gives you a child."
The whole thing seemed so preposterous that it wasn't long before the girls were giggling once more.
"In that case I do not want to be married and will remain an old maid all of my life."
Matilda stuck out her bottom lip in mock defiance and crossed her arms.
"Yet I shall be married in a week’s time and I suppose I must endure my husband?"
"You must, it is his right as your spouse and keeper." The two girls had now ceased their laughter and sat in quiet contemplation.
"I must confess, I am a little afraid Matilda."
The girl grabbed hold of her companions hand and their fingers entwined.
"Do not worry. I don't think it can be that bad. After all, my mother gave birth to 10 children," and that set the two girls off laughing again.
It didn't seem long before they were stopping at ‘The Moulin Inn’ near Pitlochry, to rest the horses and give the girls a chance to stretch their legs.
As the coachman helped the two girls down the steps, a group of rough looking characters stopped their drinking and all eyes were on Arabella. She was a fine sight to behold in her new dress, the tiny waist and blossoming bosom, her long flowing black hair catching the wind.
She was a beauty, there could be no denying and the man smacked their lips as they eyed her slowly from head to toe.
One man, with broken teeth and an eye patch whispered something to the others and they all broke out in a peal of lusty laughter.
No doubt it was something coarse about her and Arabella felt her cheeks flush.
On hearing the noise, the landlady of the Inn, Mrs. MacBrayne rushed out to see what was afoot. She was a cheerful, plump looking woman with a red nose, who would settle for no nonsense in her establishment. On seeing the poor girl’s plight, she quickly ushered the two into a private room at the back of the place, where they could eat their refreshments in peace, away from prying eyes. On bringing two glasses of warming ale to the table, Agnes MacBrayne sat with the girls, intrigued to know their story.
Arabella soon told her the details of her forthcoming marriage to Lord Stewart and Agnes wrinkled her colourful nose.
"Lord Stewart. Aye, I have heard folk speak of him. He's a cold fish from what I have heard. But don't ye take any notice of me, my loves. I'm sure he will make ye a good and proper husband. He's rich enough, that's for sure. Many a man has been changed through marriage."
She looked sadly across at the young woman.
"And many a maid too if I'm not mistaken, still I'm surprised you are travelling alone, two unescorted ladies with only a coachman for protection?"
"Papa said we would be safe. That no one would dare to harm the future bride of Lord Stewart- he is too powerful and rich a man to cross."
"With wealth and power also comes enemies, and Lord Stewart has many of those. There are men that would like to harm him. He has stolen land that does not belong to him and imprisoned men that have stood against him. It does not tell a pretty story I am afraid, and you must be always on your guard."
Arabella felt a cold shiver inside. She had not thought how vulnerable she and Matilda were, and her father had never mentioned the troubles. She could not believe that the man she was about to marry could be so wicked. It was probably all lies and gossip anyway.
Soon it was time to climb back into the carriage. The coachman, Thomas, had been drinking with the men outside, and she wondered what they had been talking about. The less people knew about her journey until they were safe within the castle walls the better, and she urged him to continue their journey as quickly as possible.
The light was almost fading and there would be many more hours until they reached their destination.
The landscape had changed from the gentle hills of the Lowlands, and now they were among the barren heather clad moors of the Highlands. Great mountains loomed above them, their white caps just distinguishable in the growing darkness. Mountain streams cascaded down the rocky surfaces, and the smell of pine and wild heather filled the air.
The two girls had fallen into a silent stupor as they watched the shadowy world pass by the little carriage window. Soon they were both fast asleep.
A sudden jolt of the carriage woke them simultaneously and Matilda was thrown into the lap of Arabella. The horses had stopped and there was an eerie silence around them. Arabella shouted out to the coachman to see what was happening, but there was no reply. After a short while she opened the window and poked her head out into the night air. The coachman was not at his station and the girl felt the fear rise in the pit of her stomach. Maybe he had to answer a call of nature and had fled to the bushes to relieve himself. That must be the case. She looked back at Matilda, pale and wide eyed in the corner of the carriage.
"It's alright Matilda, he won't have gone far. Relieving himself of all of that ale he drank at lunchtime no doubt," she tried to laugh but her humour did not lighten the mood, and the young maid grabbed at her Mistresses hand for comfort.
"Whatever shall we do Miss?" Matilda was almost crying.
Being the elder of the two, Arabella felt she was the one that had to be brave for both of them. Indeed she was almost a married woman and felt it only right that she should take charge of the situation. Opening the carriage door she placed her foot on the step.
'Where are you going, don’t leave me," The maid’s voice was small and weak.
"Don't be silly Matilda. I won't be long. I am going to find out what has happened to Thomas. Stay here or I may lose you."
Hopping down onto the ground Arabella walked around to the front of the carriage to where the horses stood, nibbling contentedly at the grass. They appeared calm and she was sure everything would be alright.
The air was chill and her breath made white patterns against the darkening sky. There were thick clumps of forest surrounding the rough road on both sides and the tall shadows of the tree’s rose menacingly all around her.
An owl hooted in a distant tree, but everything else was still, almost too quiet.
Stepping towards the undergrowth she could feel the wetness of the grass start to seep into her thin slippers, staining the silk with dark patches. There was a rustle in the bushes to her right and she stood still peering into the gloom, the loss of vision putting her at a disadvantage.
A hand was around her mouth before she had time to scream, as a strong arm grabbed her roughly around the waist and dragged her under the cover of the trees.
Her feet hardly touched the ground as she was lifted and pulled to a clearing set some way back from the road where she was roughly dropped to the floor. The sudden drop knocked the wind out of her sails and she caught her knee on a sharp stone, causing her to wince.
“Careful with the goods,” a gruff voice shouted and the air was filled with the sound of vulgar laughter.
Picking herself up as daintily as she could under the circumstances, Lady Arabella looked around. They were a motley looking lot of men, dirty mainly, and wearing the traditional tartan of the area or plain breeches and boots. Even the stable lads at home looked better than this rough –hewn lot and she tried to lift up her head and hide the fact that her heart was stammering inside her chest.
Another of the men let out a low whistle and walked towards her. She thought she recognised him as one of the men from the Inn.
“Haven’t we a pretty little thing ‘ere then? Lord Stewart may be a bastard but he certainly knows how to choose a bride.”
Approaching her, the man lifted his hand to her face and attempted to pull a strand of dishevelled hair away from her cheek, to get a better look at the stunning girl. Instinctively Arabella pushed his hand away, she did not want to be prodded and poked by such a person.
The man’s smiling face quickly turned to anger as he grabbed at her wrist and wrenched her near to him.
“See my lads, we have a cat here that will scratch and claw if we are not careful. I wonder if Lord Stewart knows what he is letting himself in for. Maybe we ought to teach this kitten to curb her claws, I’m sure the laird would be very grateful for our instruction?”
Grabbing her other arm he pulled her face closely to his. She almost wretched at the smell of rotting teeth and stale sweat. His mouth was wet and greasy, and tiny flecks of spittle bubbled on his lips with excitement. Soon his fleshy lips were on hers to hoots of encouragement from the other men. Arabella thought she would die there and then and almost fainted with the sensation. The wet and rubbery mouth engulfed her own delicate lips as his thick and slobbering tongue probed into the depths of her mouth. She could hardly breathe and feared she would suffocate, but eventually she was released and pushed back onto the hard ground.
The pack of men had now gathered all around her, there were about a dozen in number and all were looking at her with greedy and lustful eyes, as if she were some kind of animal. Her bosom was heaving in its tight trappings and she thought her heart would burst.
At last she found her voice.
“Don’t you dare touch me? I am betrothed to Lord Stewart and he will see you all hanged if you dare harm even a hair on my head.” Her voice was shaking as she defiantly looked back at the group.
She thought she had made an impact until the man who had kissed her broke out into a sly grin.
“We don’t want to hurt her do we boys? We just want to have a little fun.” His eyes were steely and full of desire as he approached her. She started to stand but he grabbed her and held her to the floor. His hand reached up to her breasts and pawed at the soft flesh, licking his lips in anticipation.
“Come and hold her down boys whilst I teach her a lesson.”
Two men approached and one took her arms and the other her legs, spreading them slightly apart.
She felt a hand underneath her woollen dress, the dirty fingernails digging into her skin as they crept further and further up towards her inner thigh and intimate places.
Arabella wanted to scream for help, but a filthy hand was pressed over her mouth so only a small muffled cry could be heard. It was no use, there was no-one to hear her anyway and it was useless to struggle against the strength of these men.
The first man had now kneeled down beside her and was pulling at the fastening of his breeches. His fleshy cock fell out of the dark material, a floppy, half solid thing that he grasped in his hands and started tugging. The other men shouted in approval and the girl tried to avert her eyes.
“She’s never seen such a thing in her life, look how it offends the ladies eyes.”
“I’m not surprised,” shouted another. Billy’s is a poor specimen, here she needs a real man,” and with that the man from earlier with the eye patch started to loosen his clothing. His cock was thicker and much larger than the others and Arabella’s eyes widened in fear.
“See, she likes mine much better, see how the thought of it makes her eyes shine.”
Another round of crude laughter ensued as the man with the hefty manhood stepped near her.
“Now, let’s get down to business”
As he knelt beside her and started to lift up her dress, there was a shout from the back.
“Stop that ye heathens, stop that at once.”
A man stepped forward into the clearing. He was handsome and not like the rest and although his clothes looked worn and in need of some service, he looked cleaner and more respectable than the others. He had with him an air of authority and the others seemed almost afraid of him.
“What on earth are you doing? Are ye but animals? Get away from the poor girl now. The instructions were not to harm her. She is to be used as a bargaining tool against Lord Stewart, not as a plaything to amuse you scum.”
The man with the eye patch rearranged his clothing and stepped forward.
“We did not mean any harm to the girl. We were just having our wee bit of fun.”
Before he could finish his sentence he was knocked by a powerful punch to the floor, leaving his nose bloody and broken.
“Is there anybody else here who was thinking of having their way with this poor lassie?”
The men shuffled their feet and looked away. Their leader was a strong man and no-one wanted to challenge him.
Arabella looked up gratefully. The man stood before her was definitely handsome, not in a sharp, cool way like Andrew Stewart, but in a more rugged and manly fashion. His hair was dark with an auburn glint, and fell in waves upon his shoulders. His eyes were a smouldering deep brown and his jaw square, with just the hint of a dimple. In any other mood she would have felt subdued under his quiet gaze, now she was afraid and angry and wanted to be away from here and back on her journey to Inverness.
“If you will help me up Sir, I would like to be on my way,” she tried to be brave but couldn’t help her bottom lip from wavering. The man held out a strong arm and took hold of her hand, delicate and slight in his and pulled her to her feet.
Straightening out her dress and brushing back her hair she looked the young man in the eye. “And what is your name Sir?”
He couldn’t help but smile at the brave young woman stood in front of him. She was very beautiful and her eyes glimmered with emotion.
“My name is James Macadam Miss,” he bowed politely and held out his hand for hers which she declined. Although he was charming he was still one of them and therefore could not be trusted.
“Well Mr Macadam, my future husband, Lord Andrew Stewart will be very grateful for your intervention to save me, and I am sure that when I am safely within his castle walls he will reward you handsomely.”
The men stood around her laughed incredulously and James held up his hand to silence them.
“I am afraid that is not quite how Lord Stewart will see it. You see, these lands and those around as far as the eye can see belonged to my clan, back to my father and his father’s father before him. Generations of Macadam’s have owned and lived in this land without conflict for hundreds of years, that is until your beloved Laird took everything away from my family by force, and burned our forests.”
“I’m sure there must be some mistake?”
“There is no mistake my Lady. As we speak my father is held prisoner in the Castle up in Inverness. He is an elderly man that should not be locked up in a cold and damp cell; and his crime? To speak out against your future husband for taking and destroying our lands.”
His brown eyes were fiery with an amber glow as he spoke, the words pulled from the depth of his heart.
Arabella stood quietly for a moment. James Macadam spoke with such conviction about Lord Stewart that she didn’t know quite what to think. His speech had caught her off guard, and any feeling of protection she thought she might have under the name of Lord Stewart was quickly diminishing. Hiding a shaking hand behind her back and jutting out her chin, she continued in the best way she could.
“That maybe so Sir, but what my future husband has or has not done cannot be blamed upon myself. I am innocent of this act but can promise that on my safe return to Inverness, I will put in a good word for you and your father and this mis-understanding can be put right.”
“Mis-understanding?” James shook his head sadly, as the men scoffed at her comments.
“I am afraid your ladyship that you will have to be our prisoner for the moment. The only way to bargain with Andrew Stewart is through something he loves, and apart from money, these things are rare indeed. It was unfortunate for you that you happened to stop at the very Inn in which my men drinking. Your driver was easily bribed.”
“Thomas?” Arabella was shocked to know that her father’s trusted servant had been party to such a wicked act.
“Don’t be too hard on the man. We made him an offer he could not refuse”
“And where is Thomas now?”
“We have sent him back with the horses to Stirling. I have told him to tell your parents that no harm will come to you and you will soon be returned to Lord Stewart.”
“And what of Matilda, my maid?” The thought of her young maid had slipped her mind completely and she felt responsible for the wretched girl.
“Do not worry, she was sat safely waiting in the carriage. I gave her a start and she started weeping, saying she would not leave without you. She is on the road back to Stirling as we speak.”
Arabella could imagine her father’s reaction when the coach returned. Her mother would probably faint.
“My father will not let this lie either; he will come looking for you.”
“My quarrel is not with your father but with Andrew Stewart, I would not like to harm an innocent man, but if your father attacks then we must fight back.”
Her father was not a warring man and he would be no match for James. He would not do anything but pray for divine intervention. Her position grew more hopeless by the minute and she could feel her bottom lip start to tremor once more. This time, there was no holding back and the tears slid down her pretty cheeks as she started to sob.
James was not used to women crying, he was used to living with his men, yet he was not hardened to her grief. She was a beautiful young woman and he was not unaware of the fact, and to see the poor thing weeping before him, stirred his heart.
His voice was gentle as he reached for her arm.
“Come Arabella, I promise that we will not hurt you. I will be personally responsible for your safety and wellbeing at all times. Now it is getting late and we must get back to the camp. You will feel better after food and a rest.”
Arabella was reluctant to take his offered hand but she had no choice in the matter. She was tired and wished the business over quickly.
James threw her over a pair of men’s breeches and a woollen cloak to wear. She was hardly dressed for riding, and it would look better if she was dressed more like them. It would remove the worry of suspicious glances that her appearance might spark.
“We’re going to have to do something with that long hair of yours too,” and with that James produced a leather cord and gently gathered the hair at her nape and fastened it securely. Passing her a black cap to complete the outfit she changed behind a thicket of trees.
When she finally emerged she looked just like a handsome young boy. Only her blossoming figure gave her away and that would be well hidden beneath a flowing cloak.
Taking her hand he led her to where his horse was patiently waiting, a magnificent black stallion called Jet with a white star marking on its nose. He helped her up and she sat beside him, refusing at first put her arms about his waist as they galloped through the dark night, but as they rode faster through the darkness she found she had to cling on to him to keep her balance, her arms tight around his firm and muscular body. At first she buried her head deep into his back, afraid of the speed and the dark shadows all around her. But he was a good horseman and eventually she relaxed and opened her eyes, enjoying the thrill of the ride. She had never felt so liberated.
Too soon they arrived at the camp, a makeshift place that had been the men’s home for a few days. A few shelters had been made from branches and leaves, to offer some protection from the elements. A few of the men had already started a fire that was already blazing a magnificent cornucopia of colors; deep gold and amber against the black canvas of night. A large cooking pot had been hung over the flames and a delicious smell drifted through the air.
Arabella was still reluctant to become civil with the men, especially the ones that had tried to molest her. James had been kind, but he was the sworn enemy of her betrothed, and it would not be seemly to form any kind of relationship with him.
She was given the best seat by the fire and several woolen blankets were laid out for her to sit on. The warmth penetrated her bones and she curled her slippered toes towards the heat. Tired and hungry she hastily accepted the wooden bowl of broth accompanied by a dense chunk of dark colored bread. The soup was mutton; her favorite, and she had soon devoured the lot, the fresh air adding to her appetite. Although simple, it was one of the tastiest dishes she had eaten for a long time.
She was determined not to fall asleep. However kind James had been, she did not trust his men.
James Macadam watched the girl from a distance. Her face was lit up; burnished by the glowing fire. Her cheeks had already been flushed from the brisk ride and now she was positively radiant. He had never seen such a beautiful face in all of his life.
As he observed her slight form, her shoulders began to slowly sag within the great cloak around her shoulders, and her head began to droop against her chest. Finally her eyes closed and she was sound asleep.
Picking her up gently, James carried the girl to lie under one of the sheltered spaces. She was so light in his arms, so beautiful, that it made his heart heavy. She was betrothed to Lord Stewart and would be used as a bargaining tool for the return of his lands and the release of his father. That was all; he could not allow himself to get involved.
Lowering her down onto a woollen blanket he had to control a desperate urge to kiss her on the lips. Instead he brushed her forehead slightly with his mouth and she stirred quietly in her dreams, the softest of smiles playing on her lips.
He would not sleep; he would be as good as his word and keep watch over her all night.
When she awoke the next day it took Arabella a while to work out where she was. She had slept well, but was aching from lying on the hard ground. When she looked up, James was there, smiling down at her.
He was so handsome that her heart fluttered; he had been in her dreams and she blushed to think of it. She had been walking down the aisle, approaching Lord Stewart waiting for her at the altar. He had slowly turned towards her, but it wasn’t the face of Andrew Stewart that waited, but the smiling face of James Macadam, and she had been glad with all her heart.
It was a ridiculous notion, her course was set and she had to get to Inverness as soon as possible and she pushed the foolish thoughts to the back of her mind.
Over breakfast, a bowl of simple porridge and ale, James told her of his plans. One of his men was already riding to Inverness to meet up with Lord Stewart to bargain Arabella for the return of his lands and release of his father. James was no fool and knew that it would not be easy. Andrew Stewart was sure to raise a small army and come looking for them –yet he had the upper hand, he had Arabella and even in the eyes of the cold Laird, surely the prize was worth it?
He could hardly dare think about the poor young woman being bound to such a man, but it was not his problem, the girl had obviously agreed to the union. At least she would be well cared for, she would want for nothing in the castle, more than anything he could hope to provide her with.
He shook his head sadly; it was a stupid thought to even entertain. His lifestyle was not fitting for a lady such as Arabella Armstrong.
It would be several days at least until they expected word back from Lord Stewart and the plan was to stay concealed in the camp for as long as they needed.
At first Arabella sat silently, aloof from the men and thinking over her forthcoming marriage. She had been shocked to hear some of the stories about her fiancé, but was sure they were exaggerated; her father would never have given such a man permission to marry her; however wealthy he might be.
Occasionally she would watch James slyly out of the corner of her eye. All the men seemed to respect him and he worked with the men on all tasks, nothing was too lowly for him. She delighted in seeing him demonstrate his strength, either chopping down a tree for firewood or fixing one of the temporary shelters. Occasionally he worked stripped naked from the waist and she loved to watch the rippling biceps and strong shoulders at work. Never before had she felt sexually attracted to a man and a dull ache rose inside of her that she could not dismiss, however hard she tried.
For most of the day she was sat alone with her thoughts and with James not always by her side, she felt the she must keep a close watch on the other men. She caught them looking at her when they thought she wasn't looking and she did not like their stares. It was only when they sat once again around the camp fire that night, and James was sat next to her, did she relax. After they had eaten, one of the men stood up and brought out an old battered set of pipes. She expected the music would be disharmonious and was amazed when the soft haunting melody floated out into the night air. It was a tender, melancholy piece that she recognised from her childhood “The Bonny lass of Ballochmyle’ and she started to sing the words in her head.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a voice, sweet and low, singing the very same words she was thinking. It was James. He sang with a rich baritone, and the more he sang, the more she loved him. It was a tale of innocent love and it hit her straight in the heart.
Fair is the morn in flow'ry May,
And sweet is night in autumn mild,
When roving thro' the garden gay,
Or wand'ring in the lonely wild;
But woman, Nature's darling child -
There all her charms she does compile;
Even there her other works are foil'd
By the bonnie lass 0' Ballochmyle.
James was looking straight at her and she mouthed the words along with him. Soon the men were clamouring for another tune and invited Arabella to sing for them. At first she was shy, but emboldened by the ale she stood and asked what songs she knew. She could remember the words to ‘Early one Morning’ and soon the piper had struck up a chord and she was soon singing of a poor maiden’s plight.
Oh, don't deceive me,
Oh, never leave me,
How could you use
A poor maiden so?
Her voice was light and crisp and as she grew bolder the notes soared high into the night sky, as tuneful as a lark at evensong.
James felt his eyes well with tears; the sound was so plaintive that he turned his head away so that his men could not see. In a few days she would be miles away and in another man’s bed. She would soon forget her time here.
When she had finished he went over to sit with her and they talked until the moon had swung around the great mountain to the west. He told her how frail his father had been following the death of his mother. Theirs had been a long and true love and when he had lost her, he thought his whole life over. That had been when the greedy Lord Stewart had struck, when they had all been grieving, and he had taken their lands by force. When his father had tried to complain to the Sheriff, the Laird had imprisoned him in the castle on a charge of trespass on his own lands. His father had been a peaceful man and had always been kind to his tenant farmers. The new Laird had doubled the rents and increased the taxes, driving out families from their homes and livelihoods.
Arabella listened without comment, as she looked into his dark and honest eyes; she knew that he was telling the truth. The more she heard about Lord Andrew Stewart, the less she liked him, let alone wanted to marry him.
It was late and Arabella yawned. James promised to watch over her and walked her back to the shelter that would be her bed for the night. As they walked through the darkness their hands brushed lightly and a spark of electricity passed between them. His heart was beating loudly in his chest and he could hide his feelings no longer. Grabbing at her waist he pulled her close to him, his hot breath on her hair.
Her whole body tingled as she was held, suspended, in the moment of his magical first kiss. His lips found hers with an urgency and fervour that was all consuming. Arabella felt her feet lift from the floor; she was floating on air, her head light and reeling on the heights of passion.
The ache had grown within her and she surrendered softly to his touch. His hands caressed her body, reaching up to find her small and perfectly round breasts. She moaned softly as he gently squeezed and caressed the soft yet firm flesh, yielding under his strong hands.
His lips were demanding on hers as his passion increased; her sweet and innocent mouth tasting like the fruits of heaven. He had never known anything sweeter nor more desirable and he felt himself being swept away on the tide of his own passion.
Yet he stopped, suddenly, pulling himself away from her as if the force were killing him. She was not his to have and was betrothed to another. If he took her she would be damaged goods, it would ruin not only her immediate prospects, but her whole life. His blood was pumping fiercely around his body as if his heart would explode with the sheer frustration, his hands shaking with unspent desire.
Arabella gasped as she opened her eyes. She was breathless from her passion and did not want it to stop. His eyes were dilated and burning deep amber, his face contorted as if he were in pain.
Lifting up her arm she brushed his face softly with her fingertips and a deep tremor shook his body, as if he had been struck by the very force of Mother Nature herself.
“What is it James?” The girl looked up to him, her innocent blue eyes, gentle and trusting.
His voice wavered as he spoke.
“I cannot do this Arabella. You are to be returned to Lord Stewart, to be married to him, and while I hate to think upon it, I do not have the right to take your innocence in this way. If I took you now, I would never be able to let you go.”
James looked away as if he could not bear to see her sweet face. Arabella could feel her heart thumping in her breast. Never had she felt so strongly, so deeply, cared so absolutely about one man.
“Then let me stay with you James,” she whispered softly, her voice hardly disturbing the silence of the night.
Looking at her, his eyes brimming with passion, he sadly shook his head.
“What have I to offer you Arabella? I have no lands and no real home. I live a life that changes with the Seasons; it is not a life for a Lady. As much as I hate Lord Stewart he can give you a comfortable home, everything you desire will be yours.”
“Everything except love that is.” The girl reached over and took his hand in hers.
For a moment he sat silently, looking at the beautiful and brave young woman set before him. He could not believe that she could love him in return.
“What about Lord Andrew?”
“What about him? From what you tell me he is a cruel and evil man. How could I love such a man, live in the same household as a man such as that, even with all the wealth in Scotland I could not be happy.”
“But you could be happy with me? I cannot promise a comfortable life, but I can offer myself, my unconditional love and protection, as long as I breathe Gods air.”
Arabella could feel the tears start to well behind her eyes. The emotion was almost too much to endure. She knew at that moment how much she loved him and her mind was made up, she had decided upon her destiny.
“I do not want a comfortable life without love James; I just want to be with you, but what about your father and your land? If I am not returned to the Laird, what will happen?”
James frowned. He loved his father very much, he was more important than the land, but now he had Arabella, he could not let her go. There had to be another way.
“Do not worry, there will be a way, there is always a way. I cannot let you go now that I have found you.”
Her eyes shone through the darkness and his passion started to rise as he reached out for her once more.
“Do you love me Arabella?”
Smiling she brought her lips to his “I have never been so certain of anything in my life.”
This time his passion was gentler, sat easier in his soul. She loved him and would stay with him, and together they would battle through life’s hardships.
His lips were softer now upon hers, supple and tender. His tongue tentatively explored the moist recesses, their tongues joining and embracing as the depth of their passion grew.
His hands were once again upon her breasts and he could feel the small nipples hardening at his touch. He needed to feel the soft flesh beneath her tunic and pulled at the material until his fingers reached the bare flesh beneath. Arabella had never been touched so intimately by a man, yet she was not afraid. She trusted James with every fibre of her being.
Arching her back she pushed against the warmth of his hands as they cupped the soft flesh of her breasts. As he squeezed and rolled her nipples between his fingers she started to moan with pleasure, her head reeling under his touch.
His kisses became more urgent as his body covered hers. She could feel his hardness grinding into her and the ache within her started to grow, almost instinctually she needed to feel him inside her.
His hands now lowered and tugged at the breeches she was wearing. Raising herself off the floor, she allowed him to pull the garment down, leaving her exposed in her long woollen stockings and little else.
James gasped as touched the soft taut skin of her inner thigh. Bringing down his head he kissed the supple, sweet flesh, parting her legs slightly.
He could smell the sweet musky scent of her hollow as his mouth travelled up to her soft mound, covered with a fine coating of light, downy hair. Her virgin recesses were like honey on his lips as he dipped his tongue into her fleshy folds. It was though a shock rippled through her body and she writhed beneath him, lost in the pure pleasure of his lovemaking.
He could not wait a moment longer to be inside her and standing up pulled at his own breeches and shirt until he was stood naked in front of her.
At first she was a little nervous to gaze upon him, but he was beautiful. His body was lean and tanned from living outdoors, the muscles highly defined on his legs, arms and torso.
His cock stood proud and erect, slightly glistening with precum.
“Are you ready for me Arabella my love?”
Suddenly feeling bashful she smiled and lowered her gaze. She did not know the words, only that she wanted him more than anything.
Kneeling before her, he kissed her reassuringly before pushing her back amongst the blankets.
Spreading her legs further apart he positioned himself between her thighs, his thick cock in his hand, guiding himself into her.
He did not want to hurt her and knew that his large manhood would stretch her tight hole as he entered and he tried to be as gentle as his ardour would allow. The tip of his cock pushed lightly against her moist lips and she arched her back to receive him. She was so tight that he almost came as he slowly started to enter her, the walls of her soft flesh moulding around him like a perfect glove, squeezing his hard flesh until he could hardly stand it and had to lie still for a moment.
“Arabella, my sweet love,” he whispered in her ear over and over again.
As he started to push deeper she winced slightly, gasping and asking him to be gentle.
Her pleading words made his passion flare and he had to restrain himself from thrusting his full length completely inside her.
Inch by inch he eased the way, feeling her tighten and then relax beneath him as he filled her completely.
With one final thrust he was there and she could feel his thick flesh, throbbing and hot inside her.
He lay still for a second until he could bear it no longer and started to thrust within her. His animal passions took over as he thrust deeper and longer inside her until he could feel himself on the verge of no return.
Arabella was breathing heavily and her pupils were dilated. As he pumped into her he could feel her pleasure rising, the soft walls trembling around his hard member.
His orgasm exploded inside his brain as his penis erupted inside her, splashing his seed in soft creamy swathes that trickled from her hole, warm and wet on her thighs and slightly pink with her virginal blood. She had never experienced such a wealth of emotion and had though her brain would explode with pure pleasure. Now his penis was slack within her and his body warm and perspiring against hers. Wrapping his arms tightly around her they fell into a soft and dreamless sleep.
When she awoke she was alone inside the shelter. She had been covered in a swathe of blankets and could still feel the sticky love making between her thighs. She had a slight dull ache in her abdomen and she remembered the lovemaking and smiled. Now she was truly his, she did not care what happened now, cushioned by the soft glow of love.
At the sound of footsteps she pulled a woollen shawl tightly around her, but she did not need to fear. It was James, bringing hot water for her to wash with.
“I thought you might need this after last night,” he smiled gently at her and she blushed remembering him inside her.
Kissing her softly he made to leave. He and his men would spend most of the day devising a new plan, how to get back his father and the lands without forfeiting the young girl.
Arabella looked worried “Do your men know about me?”
James smiled and winked “Do not worry about my men, they are true and loyal. Now you are one of us, they will not harm you.”
And it was true. As Arabella left the safety of her shelter to sit around the fire to eat her breakfast, the men either smiled or nodded to her. Not in a ‘knowing’ or ‘lewd’ fashion, but one of honest friendship and camaraderie.
After a breakfast of bread and cheese, Arabella wondered what to do with her day. She was not a girl who was generally idle, although her class and station in life meant that she seldom had anything pressing. At home she would embroider or play the piano her father had bought her for her 14th birthday. She was quite an accomplished artist and often sketched or painted watercolour scenes from the countryside around her, but she could do none of that here.
The girl sat by the fire and watched as the man designated cook chopped at the rabbit and vegetables in readiness for their supper that night. As a child she had helped Mrs McGregor in the kitchen many times, chopping vegetables and herbs to accompany her gastronomical delights, or tasting the pudding mixture before it went into the oven, to make sure it was just right. She had learned a lot from the old cook but had never found the need to practise her craft. She looked at the dish and knew what would help; a few wild blackberries would bring out the flavour beautifully. She had noticed the bushes around the edges of the forest were full of the dark purple delights and a stroll would do her good. Dressed in her breeches and cap she would be inconspicuous enough and after all, she wouldn’t stray far.
The day was beautiful and the sunlight filtered through the branches creating a soft green glow over everything it touched. The berries were abundant and there were too many to carry. The forest was empty around her, apart from the genial sing song of the native birds. Quickly she took off her cap, releasing her long hair around her shoulders. There was no-one about to see her and no harm would be done and quickly she started to pick the berries, placing them inside the cap for easy carriage home. She began to sing ‘Early One Morning’ softly to herself, remembering the previous night and her heart was light.
Very soon the cap was full and her fingers sticky and stained with the juice. She had walked to the edge of a trickling brook, clear and shimmering in the soft sunlight and putting down the capful of berries, decided to stay a while longer, enjoying the peace and quiet of the open air.
Arabella must have fallen asleep for she was wakened with a start by a noise behind her. She thought she had heard men talking, probably just the men from the camp, but she gathered the cloak loosely around her and shrank back into the undergrowth.
She listened intently, all was quiet. Perhaps they had gone away; perhaps it had just been the gurgling of the brook after all. Whatever had woken her, it was time to get back to the relative safety of the camp.
Standing up she brushed the dry leaves from her clothes and bent down to pick up the cap full of berries. A twig snapped in front of her and she looked up.
There stood Andrew Stewart and two of his men, they had been watching her all along.
The Laird eyed her suspiciously. This was not the picture of a girl who had been taken against her will. She was happy; he had heard her singing a short while before, the refrains of a love song if he was not mistaken. The anger rose inside him as he thought of his enemy, James Macadam, but he tried not to let his feelings show,
“Well my dear, this is a nice surprise, I hardly recognized you in that outfit. You are a proper Robin Hood and no mistake. You will be pleased to know that I have come to rescue and take you back to Inverness where we can be married post haste.”
The girl shrank from his gaze. What she had once thought of as handsome, she now saw as cruel and heartless. She could never love this man, ever.
For a moment she stood defiantly, trying to hold her head high and stop herself from shaking.
“I no longer wish to marry you sir. I am grateful for your offer but I will not be coming with you.”
Lord Andrew felt the ire rise within him.
“So, you are going to stay here, but a young girl on her own, under whose protection will you be?”
He was playing games with her but she had to continue.
“James Macadam.”
He could no longer contain his jealousy. He loathed James Macadam with a passion, he was everything that he was not and now it seemed he had the love of his betrothed, his Arabella. He had not loved the girl but she was attractive and would have suited him well between the bed sheets.
He smiled down at the girl with the eyes of a serpent.
“I’m afraid I have made a pact with your father and I am a man of my words. You will come back with me now and we will be married tomorrow. I am prepared to overlook your little indiscretion, but you will remain under lock and key in the castle until you can be trusted. I can think of many ways to keep you entertained,” he licked his lips lasciviously as he looked her up and down.
“Get her into the carriage men, we head back immediately.”
Arabella tried to struggle but the men soon had her captive and she was soon bundled into the back of the carriage. It was no use, there was nothing she could do, only hope that somehow James would get to her in time.
She did not weep, she would not allow herself to weep in front of this terrible man, and she dug her nails into the palms of her hands to stop her from crying.
“At least now you have me, you can relinquish the lands you have stolen from the Macadam Clan and release James’s father?”
Andrew Stewart snorted in derision. “Then you are more naive than I thought my dear. Of course I will not be giving back the lands. The old man will be put to death and the others will shortly follow, including your beloved James.”
She wanted to tear at his face but her hands were bound and she sat, hopeless, pondering her fate, as the carriage rumbled on towards Inverness.
The men had decided quickly on a plan and James hurried to tell Arabella the news. When he could not find her in the camp he began to worry. Some of the men had seen her wander off into the forest a little more than an hour ago but had not seen her return. James was angry that no-one had stopped her, and getting up a small band of his men they started to comb the forest. Soon the little cap of berries was found and James feared the worse. The tracks of a carriage and horses was found a little further out and his fears were confirmed – it could only be one man that had taken his beloved Arabella – Lord Andrew Stewart.
Racing back to camp James saddled his horse and with two of his most trusty men they set off on the trail of the Laird. They would ride much quicker than the lumbering carriage and they would soon be able to track it down.
Andrew Stewart had been asleep, dreaming of bedding the delightful Arabella when the coach came to an abrupt stop and the lurching motion of the carriage caused him to wake.
He pounded on the roof of the carriage and called out to see what the matter was.
The driver’s voice was thin and afraid.
“I think you had better come and look for yourself sir.”
Frustrated with the stop to his journey, Lord Stewart stuck his head out of the window. He could not see anything and opened the door and jumped out into the open.
Walking to the front of the coach he froze in fear. There stood three enormous brown bears, directly in their path.
Turning back towards the carriage, he raced forward to collect his gun, but was too slow. The largest of the bears had him trapped in its gigantic paws and dragged him away into the undergrowth. The sharp claws tore at his skin, the large teeth gorging into the soft flesh until he was no more.
Arabella had sat quietly in the carriage, she had managed to work on the bindings to her hands and finally break free. There had been strange noises outside and she had been afraid. Now it was silent and she cautiously stepped outside to see what had happened. At first she wondered where Lord Stewart had gone, and then she noticed a trail of blood on the grass leading into the bushes. The coach driver was missing too and the air was eerily silent. As she walked towards the undergrowth she thought she saw something move. A crackle of dry leaves followed by the snap of twigs, and then she saw it, the magnificent brown bear. It had seen her and she froze. She had heard stories of these creatures and how they could tear a man apart with their sharp claws and teeth.
It lumbered towards her, its brown deep eyes staring deep into hers. It seemed calm and yet she closed her eyes, braced herself for the inevitable. All was quiet again.
Opening her eyes the bear was stood a short distance away, still gazing at her. A large paw came towards her and she held her breath, yet the claws were pulled back and the dry leather paw touched her face softly. She almost fainted with fear, yet there was something about this creature, something almost familiar.
With a great bellow it raised itself onto its hind legs and waved its gigantic paws into the air before falling down onto the ground.
The poor thing looked ill, it seemed to writhe around in agony and she could only stand and watch. The face twisted and contorted, it was changing before her very eyes. The body was changing shape and instead of brown fur there was bare skin. Soon James Macadam was lying naked before her and she eventually swooned, the whole experience being too great for her mind to contemplate.
When Arabella next awoke, she was back at the camp. She did not know how long she had been asleep, but it had grown dark and she was very hungry. James was sat next to her, he looked tired and worn, deep shadows forming under his eyes, yet he smiled when he saw her wake and his whole visage changed to one of joy.
“James I had the most fantastic dream.”
His smile changed to a look of concern.
“Arabella, there is something you need to know about me.”
As she looked into his dark, brown eyes, she thought of the bear and deep inside already knew. There had always been something different about James Macadam, and although she could hardly believe it, knew it was true.
“I would never hurt you Arabella, you must trust me. My family is ancient and we have handed down the werebear gene from generation to generation. It is said that one of my ancestors was cursed by a witch for not returning his love and was turned into a savage bear, but through the centuries we have learned to tame our bear and use it only when we must –that is our code”
She placed her hand in his for comfort, not knowing what to say.
“Can you still love me after this Arabella, I understand if it is too much. I should have told you but I was afraid?”
Weaving her fingers into his she looked openly into his deep, dark eyes.
“I love you, no matter what James and I always will.”
The pair kissed and James gave her a knowing smile.
“It’s good job that you do. I fear that our first night of passion has produced a new life within you,” he touched her stomach tenderly.
She had felt different too, something that she hadn’t quite grasped, but there had been a fullness about her, a blossoming that she had put down to love, yet how could he know? She looked up at him quizzically.
“Call it my animal instinct.”
The new Laird of Inverness was a kindly, younger man, a nephew of the late Lord Andrew Stewart. His had been a terrible death, ripped to pieces by a pack of wild bears, but many said it was not undeserved. The lands were restored to the Macadam Clan by the new Lord Stewart and the old man was immediately released and recovered well in his ancestral home.
James and Arabella were soon married with the full blessing of her parents. With Lord Stewart dead there was nothing more to be done. Besides, they had never fully understood who was behind the kidnapping of their daughter in the first place.
Their joy was complete with the birth of their son, James Macadam the second, a bonny baby with dark brown eyes like his fathers and a shock of wild brown hair.
He was her baby bear.
I squinted my eyes and looked about me. The place I was in was a hazy, purple world, full of flames and fury. Violence was everywhere. Suddenly, I saw what I must have been looking for. I ran toward my brother Kain's silhouette. He seemed to be further away from me with every step that I took toward him, and I knew that I would never reach him in time. It was the same, endless battle, the same grueling images playing in my mind since the day he died. I heard his murderous cry, and I knew what was going to happen before it ever did.
He was fighting for his life – a battle he had lost once, three years ago, and again, over and over in my dreams many nights since. Suddenly, the image of Kain disappeared, and standing in front of me, as if keeping me from reaching him, was a great, white wolf. It was the most majestic and beautiful creature I had ever seen, and seemed to have no place among such violence. We stared at each other for a moment, and I had the silly impulse to reach out and touch it. I had no idea what it might want, or whether to be afraid. The war was loud in my ears, and the sounds of death surrounded me. The wolf howled, and I was startled into wakefulness.
I sat up in my bed panting, my heart racing in fear. Kain's name was on the tip of my tongue and I cried out, reaching my hands into the darkness and touching nothing. My nightmare had stirred the servants down the hall, and the woman who had cared for me since childhood burst through the heavy doors of my room. I looked down at myself, the vision of my chest, heaving against the thin fabric of my nightclothes.
All I could see was my brother Kain, my twin. The person I'd loved the most in the world and the only friend I'd ever had. That is, until he was taken from me by the highlanders, slaughtered in cold blood.
“Lady Bethia, are you all right?” Rose asked, fanning me from the bedside. “You must have been having one of those dreams again. Kain?”
My heart lurched at the sound of my brother's name and I nodded, holding back tears.
“Everything's all right now, my Lady. He's made it to the west, and will be taken care of in Tir nan Og. Many men would envy him for his residence in the land of eternal youth, my Lady, and he is waiting there for you still. Do not shed tears for him. Time will heal your wounds, and reunite you to him inevitably.”
Rose, normally a quiet and simple woman, was the only one who could console me when my brother's death racked my frail body with sobs. She knew just what to say, and took comfort in the tales of the west of Scotland, where the souls of the dead were said to dwell. Her quiet faith brought me peace when nothing else ever could.
“Now lay back down with you, miss, you don't want to catch your death of cold. Your dreams were a fright, but everything is all right now.”
She gently pushed my shoulders against the soft down of my bed and tucked the covers over me. I nestled into them and returned her kind smile.
“I'll be down the hall if you need me,” she whispered, and picked her candle up off the bedside table and headed from my room, casting lengthy shadows in her wake until my door closed on the candle light and left me alone in the darkness.
***
The next morning, the halls were in a flurry of activity. I dressed and was suddenly whisked away to speak with my parents, who were sitting autocratically at the large banquet table where we usually dined with guests. I opened my mouth to ask what the occasion was, when they told me to take my place at the table.
“This is the last meal you will be sharing with us for quite some time. Tensions between the highlanders and the lowlanders has been high for far too long. Finally, we have a chance to change the course of our history together. We can bring peace between these clans. We have made a deal, one that can finally unify the land again.”
I stared at my father in disbelief as he spoke. What was he talking about? Our last meal together?
“What kind of deal?” I asked, suddenly nauseated. The servants were bringing out dishes of food and the smell wafting in my nostrils brought bile to my throat. I was afraid I knew what was coming.
“You are to be wed to Lord Lachlan. Your betrothed is to send his emissaries here to retrieve you and take you to your new home. He requested the wedding be held in the highlands, where he feels most comfortable.”
“The highlands?!” I exclaimed, rising from my seat. For the first time in my life, I was yelling at my father. “I am betrothed to a highlander? It was the highlanders who killed Kain! My brother, your only son! Or did you forget that?”
“Know your place, child! Sit down at once.”
My father's steely gaze pierced through me. I seethed, tempted by years of training to sit down and shut up, but I held my ground.
“I understand your distaste for the highlanders,” he said. “But it is this union that could prevent another war like that which your brother died in. Your hand to Lord Lachlan could mean that no other men must die for the sake of our disagreements. Do you not understand that there are bigger things at work in this world than yourself? You silly, selfish girl. Now sit down and eat your breakfast.”
I opened my mouth to retort, but my father made the kind of stern sense that he always made, and all I could do was sit down and poke at my food, waiting for the moment when my life would change forever.
Breakfast had been very uncomfortable, like most meals with my parents were. We didn't have the closest of relationships. They were both frequently busy with the toils of the kingdom. My father was always cooped up in his office, signing documents and chattering passionately with his advisers. As a child I used to sneak in with Kain to spy on him. It was the only way we felt close to our father. We would listen in from our hiding place in the curtains, but the older we got the harder it was to remain concealed. And the bleak nature of our father's conversations began to leave me with a heavy heart, full of doubts and concerns for the future of our kingdom. Directly after breakfast, he told me to ready myself to meet my betrothed and locked himself away into his study.
I quietly mourned the distance between my father and myself, and turned to my mother, who was eyeing me sternly. I knew exactly what she was thinking; I was hardly presentable to be wed in the outfit I had chosen for breakfast. I wasn't close to my mother either. My father, of course, busied himself constantly with the affairs of the kingdom. In the meantime, my mother had taken pity upon the impoverished, and spent much of her time out in the world, accompanied by servants as she made it her business to feed and clothe the sick and hungry. She had recently made a name for herself for feeding a small group of vagabonds who had made their camp just outside the limits of our kingdom.
Most of the villagers were disapproving of her tendency to take pity on that group. They had caused trouble just weeks beforehand when they raided a few farms of food and mead. My mother announced that they would not be punished – instead, they would be fed. Time revealed that the group were an unfortunate band of highlanders who had lost their supplies to bandits on the road as they headed back home. My mother took care to show them all great kindness, something I privately resented her for. I wasn't alone, but I still felt defensive of her when she was heckled for it.
The vagabonds had escaped back to the highland not long ago, undoubtedly boasting about my mother's great naivety. It was undoubtedly the message of her kindness that had caused Lord Lachlan to reconsider peace with the lowlanders. Perhaps he saw a window of opportunity to take something valuable from the poor woman. His kind had taken her son, perhaps now they could take her daughter as well.
My blood boiled as I stared into my mother's regal face. She was certainly beautiful, and had passed on her stunning looks to me. What good would they do anyone now if I were to be enslaved to wed Lord Lachlan? There couldn't be a fate worse than that. Except perhaps to be slayed by him.
Again, my thoughts returned to my brother Kain, and I suddenly remembered the white wolf in my dream. It had appeared there many times before, and I had yet to make any sense of what it might mean. For some reason, the wolf's image in my mind pacified me, and I allowed my mother to whisk me off to my chambers to help prepare me for my journey.
***
I inhaled as shallowly as I could, grimacing at the sharp pain I felt in my ribs from the tight corset my mother had laced for me. She claimed that I had to be presentable to meet Lord Lachlan for the first time, and when I had rolled my emerald green eyes toward the ceiling she gave me a resigned smile.
“He is rumored to be quite handsome,” she said as comfortingly as she could.
“He is a brute, I shall hate him until I die,” I vowed, jutting my lip out. Mother laughed quietly.
“It may not be so bad as you think,” she said before spritzing me with scented water and walking out of the room. “Pack a small bag and be down soon with it. Don't make poor Rose drag you down for me. You know she will.”
I sighed and glowered out the window, annoyed that she would use my warm feelings toward Rose against me. Whatever would I do without Rose by my side in the night, comforting me from the horrific nightmares of Kain that I was haunted by? Nothing about this was right. Everything was all wrong. I wasn't supposed to marry a disgusting highlander. Even if mother was right and he was attractive, I would rather die. Maybe I could find some way to escape.
Kain's fierce face flashed before my eyes disapprovingly. If I wanted to protect other men like him, I would have to go. I owed it to the memory of my twin, and to all the other families out there who could be divided by the ravages of war if I did not comply to my father's demands. Kain would have died in vain. I felt powerless to stop this cruel union, and waited with my stomach rolling in fear for the escort that was to be sent by the highlanders.
My father and mother were standing on either side of me, their faces stern and emotionless. I couldn't stand it anymore and turned to face them.
“How do you know they will keep their word? They are nothing but dirty heathens! What if they just take me to double cross you? Do you not care about my safety? My happiness?”
My furious pleas fell on deaf ears, and I was silenced by the dreaded footfalls of horses outside the door.
“Please don't make me go,” I begged my mother, clinging to her dress. Her face didn't waver, and I turned to my father. “Please, don't! I want to stay with you. I want to stay in the lowlands!”
“Silence,” my father commanded. A rapping sound fell upon my ears and soon I was hit with a gust of cold wind as the escort entered. He was unkempt and had a long beard, and glowered at me from the doorway.
“That the girl?” he asked in a low, gruff voice.
My father nodded.
“How 'bout her dowry then?” he demanded, his grubby hands extended toward my face, as if to touch me. I flinched and had to do everything I could not to spit on him.
“It will be as we discussed with Lord Lachlan. See to it that she is safe for the next year and the dowry is all his. He is free to come and collect it himself, barring proof that Lady Bethia is all right.”
So, my father did intend to secure my well-being. I sighed silently, my shoulders slumping forward. It was a small comfort considering my fate. I glared at the man in our doorway. He seemed to know exactly what I was thinking and leered at me. It sent another spike of nausea through my body.
My parents bantered with the man briefly and saw me off. I was led to the man's carriage. He took his seat near the horses and we left unceremoniously, my parents standing firmly in front of the door. The terror on my face had to have been obvious, but they made no sign that they recognized it. I glared at them until they were out of sight, feeling as if they had betrayed me in the deepest, worst respect.
I watched as the familiar landscape around me passed before my eyes. The familiar haunts of my childhood were all left behind me as I was moved past the limits of our kingdom. The landscape turned more and more unrecognizable, and all I could do was look off into the distance, mourning the land where I had grown up and dreading my venture into the highlands.
We rode for all of daylight without stopping. At dark, the carriage suddenly stopped, and the unkempt driver jumped out of his seat. I watched him curiously, suddenly afraid. There was nothing around for miles.
“I 'ave to piss. Don't move.”
I stared at him, horrified by his lack of propriety. He seemed to sense this, and a big ugly grin spread across his face.
“You're a pretty little thing,” he said, eyeing me up and down. I clenched my teeth, unsure of how to respond. “If I wasn't to deliver you to Lord Lachlan safe n' sound, virginity intact, you bet I'd 'aver my hands all over ye. Ah well.”
“I'll be sure to let him know you said so,” I said, lifting my chin with the same regal air I had learned from my mother. This sobered him, and he backed away, scurrying off into the darkened woods. I shuddered as I heard his stream of urine hitting the dried leaves of the forest floor, wishing I was anywhere but there.
Suddenly, I heard commotion in the forest. A strangled cry reached my ears, and I looked around, terrified. It was too dark to see anything, so I gripped my bag tightly, straining my eyes and ears. I stifled a scream when a huge black figure approached me.
“Look what I found,” he said in a deep voice. “A pretty little princess.” As he came closer, I saw that the man was huge and beastly. He was missing teeth, and had wild hair. His mouth was twisted into a cruel smile, and I squirmed into the furthest corner of the carriage as he reached his hand out to me. It was wrapped in a bandage. My night could not have gotten any worse.
“Stay away from me,” I growled, kicking at him. He didn't flinch. Instead, he laughed.
“Feisty,” he said approvingly, grabbing my ankle and sliding me down the seat, until our bodies were touching.
“Let go of me!” I shrieked, hitting him with all my strength. His eyes were evil and glared down at me, and I was sure that I was doomed. If this man had his way with me, it would be my fault that the peace treaty between the highlands and the lowlands was broken. I would be a defective bride, and more men like Kain were sure to die.
The ugly sneer on the man's face grew closer. Before I could tell what was happening, a blinding white streak flew between us. It was large and snarling, and I watched in a daze as the man was torn away from me, his advances intercepted by a majestic white wolf. Soon, the large beast's perfect mane was stained red with blood, and the cruel man lay on the ground, shrieking in a womanly a voice.
“Princess, help me!” he cried, reaching his bandaged hand to me once again.
My heart grew hard and suddenly I was incapable of pity.
“Save yourself,” I growled. His wide eyes lost all light of hope, and the white wolf finished the job, tearing out the man's throat. The huge creature took a glance at me trembling in the carriage and then disappeared, bounding deep into the woods.
***
I don't know how long it was that I sat amongst the carnage, in shock and terrified to move lest the wolf see me and change its mind about attacking. I whispered for help, wishing that the escort might hear me. The bandit had surely slit his throat, and I gazed into the full, round moon, wishing more than anything that I could return home to the lowlands.
Suddenly, I heard a twig snap and gasped involuntarily. Another man was coming toward me. I squinted into the darkness, sure that I was about to encounter another enemy. As the man entered my view, I was taken aback. I had never seen a creature like this before. He glanced in concern from me to the corpse of the man lying on the ground.
“Are you, all right?” he asked, in a low, rumbling voice. Somehow, I was instantly comforted.
“I want to go home,” I said, purposely avoiding the question. I didn't know if I was all right or not. I just knew I was tired.
A gentle grin creased his broad, handsome face. I stared at him, unable to take my eyes away. He approached me cautiously, stepping over the brute's body.
“And where is that, love?” he asked.
“The lowlands,” I said, my eyes brimming with tears.
He glided into the seat beside me and wrapped his muscular arm comfortingly around me.
“You're a long way from home, love,” he said softly, pressing me close against his firm chest. He laid his cheek against me, and although I had never been so near a man like this before, I didn't feel threatened. I could feel his stubble against my skin, and the friction sent a small thrill through me. “But I can take you to the closest settlement to here. You're going to be all right. I'll see to it.”
He squeezed my shoulder and abruptly stood, climbing into the driver's seat of the carriage. I felt suddenly cold without the warmth of his body near me, and the absurd thought crossed my mind then that I had never felt so lonely. I considered telling him that Lord Lachlan was expecting me, but I felt reluctant to unveil the importance of my rank, just in case the man was untrustworthy.
I heard a whinny and the carriage jolted forward. I sighed, staring at the man's golden hair as it swayed against his shoulders. It was long, thick and curly, braided on one side. I gazed at him, my eyes growing heavier and heavier until I was lulled into a deep sleep by the gentle rocking of the carriage.
When I awoke, I was in a cot. The chill in my bones was unbelievable. I sat up quickly, disoriented and looked about me. I was in a small tent. There was rustling outside, and I groaned, wishing I could remove my corset. It was bound far too tightly for my comfort.
“Good morning, miss,” a shrill woman's voice said to me. Somehow, I had missed her sitting in the corner of the tent. She stood, offering me a dirty cup full of milk. I was tempted to resist it, but suddenly felt overwhelmed with thirst.
I drank deeply and handed the empty cup back to her.
“Thank you,” I said, looking down at the ground. It embarrassed me to look at her, dressed as strangely as she was. It appeared she wore no corset at all, and had a simple dress of white plaid, bound with a brass buckle over her breasts. She saw me looking and quirked an eyebrow. Suddenly I realized that she could help me. “I was wondering...can you help me out of my corset? I can hardly breathe.”
A pink blush colored her cheeks and she nodded.
“D'you want the flap drawn then?” she asked, gesturing to the opening in the tent. I nodded, and she closed it quickly. Her fingers worked nimbly on the strings of my corset and I was suddenly exposed in the cool morning air.
“I'm afraid none of my clothes will be warm enough,” I mumbled, digging through my bag. The woman quirked a smile.
“I suppose we could get you a spare tartan,” she said thoughtfully. “You got a lowlander's constitution.”
I couldn't help but feel offended as she disappeared out of the tent. She appeared a few moments later with bulky fabric in her arms.
“I'll show you how,” she said. “My name's Winny, by the way.”
“Thank you,” I said. “My name is Bethia. Do you know where I am?”
“You're right where you're supposed to be,” Winny said.
I pursed my lips. That wasn't the answer I'd been hoping for.
“Well there you are,” she said, studying her handiwork. “Let's get you out to breakfast before they start asking questions.”
I followed Winny out of the tent and toward a large camp fire. The smell of meat cooking brought rumbles of hunger to my stomach, and she gestured for me to take my place on a felled tree. There were several people sitting around us, and many of the men stared at me as I gazed around the circle. Their inappropriate interest made me uncomfortable. I could tell what most of them were thinking. It was no different from what other men and boys had always thought of me. Fortunately, I'd had Kain to protect me most of our lives. Now I was alone.
Finally, Winny returned to my side. She brought me a bowl full of porridge and I ate ravenously. I heard a chuckle from across the fire and looked up to meet the eyes of the man who had saved me the night before.
“Easy, love, you don't want to choke.”
The grin on his face brought a blush to my own, and the men around him laughed quietly.
“Welcome to my clan, Lady Bethia,” he said with a low bow.
I froze, realization suddenly dawning on me.
“Lord Lachlan?” I asked, nearly choking on the bite of porridge I had in my mouth.
The men surrounding us cackled. Lord Lachlan's eyes danced behind the firelight. Suddenly I no longer felt hungry. I stood and glared at him.
“I'll have you know I didn't agree to this union. If it were up to me, I'd still be back home, where it's warm. Not out here with you and your band of heathens. Did you see how they were looking at me? But what do you care – you have what you want. Yes, you may be able to marry me, but I'd like you to do me a favor and leave me alone.”
I turned my back on him and headed back to the safety of the tent where I had woken up. I could feel his eyes burning into my back, but I didn't turn around. The men were in a clamor now.
“You should put that whelp in her place,” one man exclaimed. “She shouldn't be talking to you like that, Lord Lachlan.”
“No,” I heard his low voice murmur. “She's been through a lot. Let her be.”
As the week went by, I slowly realized that living in the camp with none of the civil luxuries of the lowlands was going to be my life. It was very cold, but nobody seemed to care or suggest we take shelter in a more heated abode. The men were all larger and more broad and muscular than any other people I had ever seen, and even the women were thick and sturdy, beautiful in their own fierce way. One of them, Jeila, had her eyes on Lord Lachlan, and seethed at me any chance she could.
“I hear you two are going to tie the knot,” she said, sitting a little too close to me one evening at the fire, her dark eyes narrowed.
“I hear the same thing,” I said, not looking up from the plate of fish and cheese on my plate.
“He's not going to be happy with you for long,” she laughed. “You're too small. Most times the little ones like you don't get any husbands. You make poor, weak stock. Not cut out for the mountains.”
“Great, maybe I'll get to go home then,” I said, glaring at Lord Lachlan from across the fire. He stopped chewing and stared levelly at me. He hadn't approached me since my outburst the week before, though I knew that wedding plans were in the works whether I was involved in them or not.
Lord Lachlan looked away from me, distracted by a question from the man beside him.
“Did you hear the ghosts talking last night?” the man asked. “They've been restless since Lady Bethia arrived. Maybe they think the lowlanders are bad luck.”
I glowered down at my food. It wasn't bad enough that I didn't want to be there. If nobody else wanted me to be there either, I had a hard time seeing the point of staying. It was generally terrible for everybody involved. But the peace treaty had been signed, and as decreed, my life was now in the mountains.
“I did,” Lord Lachlan answered, to my surprise. The strange superstitions of the highlanders were peculiar, but they all seemed to believe in the ghosts in the hills. Even with all their might, the ghosts held power over their conduct. And they were certainly mighty. I had seen the men training a few days beforehand. Their rippling muscles and fierce expressions were intimidating to me.
“I spoke with one of them. A bad omen. It has nothing to do with the lowlanders, this much I am sure of.”
The group quietly mulled the news over, looking down into their plates.
“He's probably just saying that because you're right here,” Jelia hissed to me. “He doesn't want to hurt your delicate lowlander feelings.”
“Lord Lachlan has no reason to flatter me,” I said, looking squarely into her eyes. For some reason this woman would not let up on me, and her foolish, immature games were starting to wear on my nerves.
Lord Lachlan seemed to sense his name rolling off my lips, because he looked again at me.
“The spirits told me that Lady Bethia would bring us good fortune, actually,” he said, directly to me, his handsome face glowing gold in the firelight. “I have no reason to believe otherwise.”
We gazed at each other and I felt a tugging deep within me to go to him and take my rightful place beside my betrothed. It certainly would make Jelia seethe with jealousy if I did so. But still, I didn't trust him, and resented more than anything that I was to be traded as if I were some pawn in a game I wanted nothing to do with. The only reason I was there was to save people like Kain, not to be some blushing bride to a brutish highlander. What did I care if I brought them luck? They could all rot for all I cared.
Unfortunately, the power of my anger was waning the longer I was in their camp. Everybody had been more than accommodating, and many were even apologetic about their lifestyle, begging my forgiveness for their peculiar habits and customs. They claimed to hate lowlanders, but they were more courteous and thoughtful of me than even my own parents had been. It must have been something in their breeding.
***
Because of their kind treatment toward me, I thought that perhaps they were all very welcoming of outsiders, until one day my opinion of this changed. I was in my tent with Winny, who had taken to keeping me company as I attempted to avoid the rest of the highlanders. Suddenly, a loud rallying cry roused us to our feet.
“It's the O'Connell clan,” Winny said, pale-faced. “We don't allow any encroachment here, no, that's not allowed.”
The fierce men ran past the open flap of the tent. I approached the opening to watch as they sped off together toward the breach. Following up behind the men was Lord Lachlan, who had just finished bathing. He had barely put his kilt on before following the men to the disturbance. I couldn't take my eyes off his broad chest as he ran toward me, his eyes fully focused on the scene ahead of him. I was entranced, despite myself, by his hulking, rippling body barreling forward, his bare muscles tense and threatening to tear apart any threat to his clan.
He passed the tent without any indication of having seen me, and I watched his long hair swaying, still wet from bathing. It flew behind him, some strands slapping against his muscular back. I turned to Winny, who was watching the men running off with a look I found difficult to pinpoint. It seemed there were elements of fear, certainly, but there was also an unmistakable thrill behind her eyes. This was what they were bred for – fighting and protecting what was theirs. I never felt more out of place, me and my frail lowlander's body, than in that moment.
I felt restless suddenly, and longed to go and see the action.
“Lady Bethia, no!” Winny cried, reaching out to grab me as I ran out of the tent. She was too late, and I followed the commotion, my breath coming in short gasps as I tried to catch up with the men. Although they were huge, they were incredibly fast, and it took everything I had just to get far enough ahead to find where they were going. I followed them as they climbed a large hill in the camp, and heard metal clanking as the men prepared to brawl.
I was fully panting by the time I climbed the hill, my legs shaky from the unexpected exertion. Once I reached the top of the hill, my eyes widened.
“Wolves!” I shouted.
All of the men, both O'Connells' and Lachlans', turned toward the sound of my voice. It was too late. Some of the O'Connell men were already being attacked by a small pack of wolves. Two of them were grey, and knocked the leader of the rival clan down to the ground. They began gnawing at the man, putting their giant grey paws on his suddenly vulnerable body. In the lead was another great white wolf, much like the one that had saved me on my journey to meet Lord Lachlan.
I watched in awe as the white wolf stood upright and backed away from the man on the ground, who was trembling and batting at the beasts in a futile effort to drive them away. The two grey wolves followed the white wolf's lead and backed away from the man. He got to his feet and gave an order, calling off the men who were attacking Lord Lachlan's clan.
“They don't know no better,” one of the highlander's said to me as both clans retreated from bloodshed.
They didn't know any better about what? Not encroaching on Lord Lachlan's clan? It seemed like such a silly dispute. The leader of the rival clan caught my eye as I watched the scene in a daze. He leered at me and sneered. Suddenly, I felt very vulnerable and I looked around for Lord Lachlan. For some reason, when I felt unsafe, he was the first person I thought to turn to. However, he was nowhere to be found. I figured that he must have snuck off while I was watching the wolves. I frowned and left the scene, eager to get away from the man as quickly as possible. I returned to my tent, shaken by the sudden violence and thankful that it had passed swiftly.
After that incident, my view of the highlanders changed once again. Now I didn't see them as welcoming of outsiders, I saw them as unreasonable and thick-headed, unable to keep peace even among each other. That night, Winny explained how the clans worked. If we didn't take care of ourselves, she had said, then nobody would. We had to protect what was ours, at all costs. You didn't know who you could trust – all you had in this world was yourself. The O'Connells were bandits that had been terrorizing the roads in the highlands for ages. Lord Lachlan's clan had been lucky to escape their attentions for this long, but now they had finally been targeted.
The highlanders were a difficult brood to understand, but the fierce loyalty they had toward each other made me feel vaguely warm. It must have been nice to feel as if you belonged somewhere. Especially with someone as powerful as Lord Lachlan there to protect you. I had never felt very concerned for my life being raised in the lowlands, but I knew none of the peasants in our kingdom loved my parents the way the highlanders under Lord Lachlan's watchful eye seemed to love him. Even the men spoke fondly of him, praising his extraordinary talents. I had heard plenty of the women admiring his looks and his strength, each of them casting a jealous eye on me, especially after publicly scorning him as I had.
One afternoon, after lunch, I was surprised to see him approach me.
“Let's go for a walk,” he said. It was an offer, but it didn't seem like one that I could say no to. If Lord Lachlan asked you to walk with him, you walked. I could feel all eyes on us as we left the camp. Even though I was a little bit tall for my sex and my mother frequently reminded me of this, I felt dwarfed by the huge man. He seemed to feel perfectly at ease as he led me from the safety of the settlement and down a path I had never noticed into the woods.
We walked quietly, and I found myself deeply enjoying the solitude that the forest provided us. It was as if I were alone for the first time with the same gentle man who had rescued me. He showed a peculiar reverence for the plants and trees as we walked, greeting some of them as if they were people, or touching their trunks gingerly as he passed. I had never seen anything like it, and realized that there was much more to the highlander way of life than I had ever imagined.
We reached a small stream and he crouched beside it, cupping some of the fresh spring water in his hands and sipping it. He offered his hands to me and I find myself fumbling over my words to avoid drinking from his hands. He quirked his eyebrow at me with a playful smile and I laughed, unable to resist his charms. I knelt in front of him, my knee pushed into the muddy bank beside him. For the first time in my life I realized I didn't have to worry about whether there was mud on my clothes, and it felt great.
I put my slender hands on top of his thick wrists to steady his hands. We gazed into each other's eyes for a moment before I drank deeply. The water was cold and refreshing. I could see Lord Lachlan's chest rising and falling. I was alarmingly close to his thighs, and I couldn't help but wonder if the rumors were true about the savage way highlander men refused to wear briefs under their kilts. I could feel a blush creep across my cheeks and Lord Lachlan looked at me as if he could see right through my curiosity.
He let the rest of the water drip through his hands and took my hands in his own. He looked at me intently, and I was captivated by his warm presence and the flecks of gold and green in his blue eyes.
“I don't wish to keep you here against your will,” he said. “This marriage was a gesture of good will toward us to seal a treaty of peace. I will keep my word to your family even if you choose to return to the lowlands.”
He brought my pale hand to his bronzed face and kissed it tenderly. His lips were warm and soft on my cool hands, igniting a fire I didn't know I was capable of stoking. The intensity of the longing I felt for him shocked me, and I stood quickly and hid my face from him.
“Let's not talk about this right now,” I said, my back turned to him. Suddenly, Kain was in my mind again and I remembered my hatred of the highlanders. There was no way I could be lured in by his sweet words. If he would let me go home, then that was exactly what I was going to do.
Suddenly, his arms were around my waist and the whole of his body was pressed behind me. I felt small and safe, and he nuzzled his face into my neck, sending a deep thrill down my spine. I bit my lip in confusion and he turned me by the shoulder to face him. I opened my mouth to speak, but before I could get a word out, his mouth was pressed against my own, and I felt myself surrendering to the fire within me. He kissed with passionate abandon, holding me firmly in his strong arms. When we broke away from each other, I stared at him for a moment before turning on my heel and running away.
I could hear his heavy footfalls as he went after me, chasing me through the forest. I groaned in frustration, knowing he would be able to catch up with me right away if that's what he wanted to do. Suddenly, I was halted by a strong hand gripping my arm.
“Never run through here like that!” Lord Lachlan barked. “Do you know how much harm could come to you? The O'Connells saw you here last time, if they knew you were vulnerable they would take you in an instant! Don't underestimate their knowledge of your value to me.”
My value to him? What did I mean to him except a potential marriage? A fragile peace treaty between two powers at odds? A pretty and available woman for him to use as he pleased? All for a contract I had nothing to do with. I jutted my chin at him defiantly. He was a rogue and a brute, and now he was manhandling me.
“I didn't agree to marry you and I certainly didn't agree to take your orders!” I exclaimed, wriggling free from his grasp.
“It's dangerous, my Lady,” he said in a low, serious voice, casting his eyes quickly away from me. I wondered in surprise if perhaps I had hurt his feelings. Until that moment he had seemed so invincible.
Again, I remembered Kain dying on the battlefield with the highlanders. Good. If I hurt his feelings that meant I had at least some small advantage over the brute. It was my only form of power in this situation. Everybody was thicker and stronger than I was, I may as well resort to the power my looks and sharp tongue awarded me, just like the jealous and vile women in my own kingdom would have done. I used to wonder why they were so harsh with their husbands and suitors, and now I thought I might understand why.
“Very well. Can we please go to back now?” I asked, resigning myself to a malicious nature. If it gave me any control over my life, I might as well give it a try. I couldn't be at Lord Lachlan's mercy.
“All right,” he said.
I followed him back to the encampment quietly. My emotions were all over the place. He was acting as if I had stricken him, and although I took secret pleasure in hurting a highlander, I couldn't help but feel guilty about it. This just served to make me angrier though, so I went back to the tent where Winny was sipping on a glass of mead and laid down in my cot to get some sleep.
***
I woke up in the middle of the night from another dream about Kain in battle. Again, he was fighting for his life, and before I could reach him, a white wolf appeared in the distance and held my gaze. I wanted to shout at it for answers but instead, I woke myself up with a little gasp. I couldn't handle being in the highlands for another second.
My stomach grumbled painfully. In my haughtiness, I had refused to take to dinner with the others, pretending to be sleeping deeply when they asked me to join them. I didn't like how I was acting, but I didn't know how else to get everybody to leave me alone. Nobody could run my life anymore – I was an adult and I had every right to go wherever I wanted.
I sat bolt upright in bed. That's right – Lord Lachlan said I was free to return home any time I wanted. And I wanted nothing more in that instant than to be in the lowlands, back in my own bed. Where people were cultured and refined and didn't talk to trees. I glowered and got quietly out of my cot, careful not to wake Winny, who had been sharing her tent with me since I arrived. I would miss her. I would miss most of them, really, but I couldn't handle being a pawn in Lord Lachlan's games anymore.
I grabbed my satchel and filled it with the rest of my possessions, packing quickly and slinging it over my shoulder. I buttoned up my nightclothes and dressed in the tartan that Winny had given me. I gazed at her sleeping peacefully before I headed quietly out the tent and toward the road that led, inevitably, toward home.
I snuck past the guards and into the deep darkness of the night. I headed toward the stables, situated further out of the encampment to give the horses more solitude. I would take one and go home, nobody could stop me, and I'd be returning my parent's investment with interest. I would have a highlander's horse.
I fumed at the thought of myself as an investment. I was making the right decision. I was about to mount the horse when suddenly I was grabbed from behind. I was whipped forcefully around. I expected to be peering into Lord Lachlan's stern face, but I had slipped even beneath his awareness and into the night. Instead, I was face to face with the leader of the O'Connell bandits. He sneered at me and clapped a dirty hand over my face before I had the chance to scream.
“We're going to have some fun, princess,” the man said. His breath smelled as if his teeth were rotting in his mouth, and I squirmed, attempting to cry out. Nobody heard me though, and I was dragged away into the darkness.
I was taken hostage by the O'Connell clan, and realized that these men were everything I thought I had hated about highlanders. Lord Lachlan and his people were nothing like these hedonistic monsters. Each of them took turns touching and leering at me as I was led away into the leader's tent, where he tied me to a stake in the corner.
“We been waiting for you,” he said, licking his blackened teeth. “Heard a lot about you, Princess.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked, glowering down at the floor. “Where would you hear anything about me?”
“From your brother,” he said. “You look just bloody like him.”
I opened my mouth to ask him what he meant, how he might have known my brother, but before I could get the words out, he shoved a dirty piece of cloth in my mouth and tied another one around it to keep it in place. I furrowed my eyebrows, sensing that the man would like it even better if I struggled, and did my best to keep my composure. I tilted my chin up at him, again borrowing my mother's regal expression. The grin faded from his face and he left the tent.
“Send Lachlan the message of ransom!” he shouted to the men.
I heard the clatter of hooves as horses headed to the camp. I had been foolish to think I could make my way safely home even after Lachlan's warnings. I worried now, after my unkindness toward him, if he would even want to come for me at all. I didn't see why he would. Everything was hopeless.
***
The bandit's leader, presumably O'Connell, disappeared from the tent for a few hours. I was exhausted and hungry, which made me miserable. And on top of it all, my hands and feet were bound too tightly, and I could scarcely move. I wondered how it could get any worse, when O'Connell stepped inside the tent with a sickening smirk on his face.
“C'mon lass, the fellas want to have a little fun with ye,” he said, roughly pulling me up and leading me out to the fire, where about sixteen men were leering at me, devilish looks in their eyes.
“I'll start off the festivities,” O'Connell said, gripping my knee and sliding his hand up under my dress. I spit on him and the others laughed. He raised his hand to strike me. I flinched, expecting searing pain, but his blow never reached my face. The great white wolf I had seen before raced out of the dark woods and lept at O'Connell's throat. I hid my face as the sounds of him choking on his last breaths filled the air.
Several of the men began advancing toward the wolf, grabbing weapons of all shapes and sizes. Fear gripped my heart, and for the first time I realized that I didn't want the wolf to die – it had become the same as the wolf in my dreams, and somehow it was connected to the fate of my twin. I knew nothing more truly than I knew this. I watched in horror and awe as the beautiful creature became stained with blood as its enormous body massacred the slew of men trying to kill it.
I cried out as a man, one of the last alive, approached the wolf from behind as it tore out another man's throat. He was holding a huge club over his head and smacked the great wolf over the head with a loud thud. The wolf whimpered.
“No!” I cried as it fell to the ground in a heap. Suddenly, a change began to take place in the wolf. Before my very eyes, it began to change shape, morphing in an aura of light from a wolf down to something much smaller. A naked human. The man struggled weakly to his feet, and my eyes roamed his perfect form. His back was to me, and I could scarcely believe my eyes when he turned to look over his shoulder at me and I was staring right into the face of Lord Lachlan.
Just then, three more wolves lept into the campsite, downing the men before they had a chance to do any more harm to their pack leader. Their terrified wails distracted from the shock I felt as Lord Lachlan steadied himself, bringing his hand to the wound on his forehead. Then, much like a wolf, he shook his head, whipping his long hair wildly, and straightened his back. He approached me, his lithe body glowing in the firelight, and for a moment, everything else disappeared.
He untied me gingerly, but I couldn't yet stand. My legs felt weak with fear and adrenaline, and he allowed me to stay on the ground for a moment.
“He said something about my brother,” I whispered, tears streaming down my face. “That he'd heard a lot about me from him. Why is that?”
“Your brother, Kain the Able, was a fantastic fighter. It is the O'Connell's clan that brings a bad name to the rest of us. We had banded together to fight against them, but they had taken Kain captive, hoping for a reward from the lowlanders for his return. Your family. My pack and I were able to save him, and in battle we fought against the O'Connells and the clans they had brainwashed against us. We had a common enemy, and he was a worthy friend.”
Lord Lachlan lowered his eyes to the ground and heaved a deep sigh.
“One of the men, a bandit named Emry, was on the battlefield that day. We were on the cliff's edge when it happened. I saw him fighting Kain and ran as quickly as I could, but I was still human and wasn't fast enough. By the time I transformed, Emry had run his blade through your brother. I pounced on Emry hard enough to knock him over the cliff's edge, but it was too late for your brother. I nuzzled him and comforted him as he died.”
“How did you come to know each other?” I asked. It seemed so wrong when compared to what I already held in my beliefs, but in my heart, I knew it was so, and that this is what my dreams had been trying to tell me for so long. Kain didn't want any hatred in my heard. Not for the highlanders, not for anyone.
“As I mentioned, we had a common enemy. We rescued him from the O'Connell clan just as we are rescuing you. And when we transformed to our human forms, Kain fell instantly in love with a woman here – a woman I've been reluctant to introduce you to for fear of a misunderstanding. Come here now, Maily.”
A beautiful woman approached, also completely nude. Her stunning body showed marks of childbirth, and I looked from Lord Lachlan to Maily in confusion. Before I could ask the obvious question, a small wolf pup with a satchel in his mouth ran up to her and nuzzled her legs. She picked him up and he transformed into a giggling baby boy. He looked just like Kain and I.
“Your nephew,” she said, handing the small child down to me. He was around three years old, and we stared at each other until tears welled in my eyes. I knew everything they were saying to be true in my heart, and I hugged the boy as the others dug through his satchel for their clothes, dressing quickly among the corpses before heading back toward camp for the night.
“They took you far,” Lord Lachlan said down to me. “We highlanders can hike 60 miles in a single day, but I'm afraid you are of too weak of a constitution for the journey back. We can make camp in the woods some ways away from here. Take some of their supplies and head back to the settlement in the morning. It has been a long night. Come on out of here, you don't need to be around all of this carnage.”
He took my hands and pulled me to my feet, and I followed him around camp as he looted it for what we needed. We headed away from the bandit's camp and began our search for a place to spend the night.
We found a pleasant clearing and Lord Lachlan busied himself setting up a campsite. He first built a fire and sat me in front of it before cooking a hearty meal of goat's meat and porridge. We ate quietly.
“Are you injured?” I asked when we were finished.
“No, love. Just a scratch. Did they harm you at all?” his eyes grew hard at the possibility.
“I'm fine,” I said, longing for the comfort of his warm body beside me. I shivered and looked out into the trees. He seemed to read my mind, and scooted beside me, wrapping his strong arms around me.
“I misunderstood you,” I said softly to him. “I'm so sorry.”
He laughed heartily.
“I like a woman who takes care of herself,” he said, and I put my arms around him, toying with his soft hair. He looked down into my eyes and my breath caught in my throat. I knew I was ready for him now.
I tilted my chin up, this time not in indignance but to kiss him. He met my mouth greedily, and I sighed in pleasure as his hot tongue brought me an unexpected taste of rapture. I kissed back passionately and rested my hand on the bulge of his kilt, stroking it curiously. I could tell he was surprised by my boldness.
“Are you sure this is what you want? We are not yet wed,” he whispered, pulling me on top of himself and pressing my middle against the hard, urgent testament to his longing.
I felt a rush between my legs and nodded. I could feel his every movement beneath the fabric of his kilt as he began to strip me of my dress, revealing my pale breasts and lean stomach. Soon, the only thing separating us was a thin barrier of cloth. I moaned as he easily bypassed it, pressing his hot flesh against me, halting at a bunched area of damp fabric between my own legs. He slid himself against it without moving the fabric. I closed my eyes, gasping as tendrils of pleasure wound their way around me.
He sat up, his rippling muscles flexed and glimmering in the soft glow of the fire light. His strong hands found their way to my waist and lifted me, moving the bunched fabric out of his way and using his large fingers to knead soft bursts of bliss from me. He pulled them away and examined the way they shimmered in the fire light before giving me a wolfish grin.
It seemed greedy to want more than that, so I was surprised when my gratification only deepened. He closed his vibrant eyes and pushed his rod gently against my opening, until he was partially inside. The foreign feeling of a man's phallus against me was jarring at first, but he began expertly pleasuring me as he slid further and further inside. He went with excruciating slowness, awakening my appetite until even the whole of him didn't feel like enough.
The pleading in my eyes elicited a smile from him, and he gently lifted me from himself and laid me down on the tartan cloth I had been cloaked in. He fussed over me until I was comfortable, and then, with an expression of pure revelry, pushed his engorged manhood deeply inside of me. I cried out in surprise and in gratification. Never had I felt better than in that moment. He thrust again and again, indulging every wave of my satisfaction.
I could see the enjoyment on his face, and I felt a shudder inside of me as his eyes roamed my naked body.
“You're perfect,” he said with a low growl, and unleashed an animalistic fervor within me. We moaned together until suddenly it felt as if I were being lifted straight out of my body by a burst of ecstasy. My hips buckled against his and I cried out fervently. He uttered a low moan as I squeezed him, until suddenly I was flooded with a hot rush of liquid that elevated my climax. He gripped my legs tightly, grimacing in pleasure up at the moon until the gushing of his seed subsided.
He lay next to me, entwining my hand in his and examining our hands together in the moonlight. I curled my body into him and we lay like that for as long as I could stand before I was shivering with the cold. I dressed slowly as he watched, lounging immodestly on the tartan, his expelled member resting against his leg and glistening in the firelight.
“Are you ready then?” he asked me, his eyes intent.
“Ready for what?” I asked, thinking with some surprise that he already wanted to have another go with me on the tartan.
“To marry me?” he asked, his warm lips curled into a grin.
I opened my mouth and closed it again, unable to find the right words. Instead, I made my way over to him and knelt with my hands around his broad shoulders.
“Yes,” I whispered into his ear. We hugged, and he held me tightly. I was ready to embrace my new home and a completely different way of life.
Epilogue
It had been six months since I first arrived with the highlanders. Lord Lachlan and I were bound in union for a month. We'd had a very Gaelic wedding ceremony in the mountains, with the fresh air blowing our hair out toward the wind. I could feel Kain there, blessing us with his spirit. Lord Lachlan had a great hand in convincing me that he had never left me at all, not the way I thought he had. It brought me a great sense of peace, and knowing that my twin and his little pup were attending my wedding was the best gift I could ever have received.
At least, that's what I thought until I noticed with some concern that I hadn't bled since a frisky romp my husband and I had a few months ago, near the spring where we had first shared a kiss. I came to him with the news and his entire face lit up.
“You do realize what this means, don't you, Bethia?” he asked me, picking me up and spinning me around his tent.
“I don't...” I said, my eyebrows furrowed. Although I was a woman, my own body's workings were still quite mysterious to me. Nobody in the lowlands thought it was proper to teach a woman how she worked. I was impressed and surprised by the frankness the highland women shared with their young, bare-footed children about the way nature worked. In my native home it was shameful, but here it was a natural and accepted aspect of life.
“You're with child, love! It is a day to celebrate!” he exclaimed. “You're having my children!”
“Your...you mean we're starting a family? Already?” I asked, laughing in disbelief as he continued to dance with me. I let him spin me round in his strong arms.
“Yes! Our legacy shall continue.”
I held him still for a moment, tears in my eyes.
“I think it's twins,” I whispered.
He knew the significance to me and held me close.
“They'll be the most well-loved pups in all the world,” he said softly.
We held each other, both lost in thought. Our future was in my belly right that moment, and we couldn't have been happier.
The End.
A group of men thundered by on horses as Lady Catriona emerged from her tent. The animals’ hooves tore up the ground, tossing clumps of mud and grass across the encampment. In the lead was Lord Hector - Catriona’s husband. They rode into camp, throwing up whoops and hollers, having captured a single Highland rebel. Hector turned his horse ‘round and kicked it towards his wife.
“What do you think of our game, my love?” He asked loudly, to put on a show.
Catriona suppressed a curl of her lip and raised her chin. “It is very grand, my Lord.”
The Lord barked in amusement. “This mangy cur?” He spat on the ground, “first time he’s ever been called grand, I’m sure.”
The other men joined in with their own thick laughter. Jeering at the man they held captive - though the prisoner’s face remained still, distant. Catriona bowed her head, quitting the conversation without further comment. Her husband spurred his horse and returned to his task. Looking up, Catriona took a brief glance at the stranger. Mangy cur was not the phrase she would choose to describe him. The man held his head high, and his shoulders straight - despite the harsh pull of the rope around his wrists. His body was well toned, muscles taught - there was an animal-like quality about him to be sure. But not one of weakness or frenzy. He was strong and lean - and his presence couldn’t help but remind Catriona of what her life might have been, had Hector not chosen her as a bride.
The captive turned his head, meeting Catriona’s gaze before he was dragged from her sight. His eyes were piercing even from a distance - and they made Catriona shiver. Before she could blink, he was already gone - spirited away to another part of camp, to be bound and ridiculed. Her husband out of sight, Catriona did little to hide the disgust on her face. Life had turned out so much differently than she had once expected as a young girl. Marriage to Lord Hector seemed the only practical choice at the time - he would provide security and wealth in a time when the Scottish lands were in uncertain upheaval. The Highlanders were fighting back against the Englishmen who continuously stole their land and enforced their rule. In truth, Catriona had been lucky to catch Hector’s eye. Instead of leaving her to be taken by the men of his camp, he instead took her aside to woo for himself. With this, Catriona ensured the safety of her own family - if not those of her former village.
The first year or so was easy - she was still in Hector’s good favor. He doted upon her and showed her off as frequently as possible. But soon the question of a child became an issue. Hector hadn’t the gall to force himself upon her, but the few times Catriona did allow him into her bed, it was cold and unpleasant. His sweet words quickly turned into admonishments and strings of hateful whispers into her ear. She had never suspected Hector a kind man, but the strength of his cruelty was sharp. While he still played the part around his men, or men and women of the court, Catriona dreaded being left alone by his side. Over the course of a few years, Catriona had become attuned to her husband’s moods, his movements. She knew when a strike would come, when he was merely yelling, or when he would destroy the room to intimidate her. To confront Lord Hector directly…Catriona couldn’t be truly sure of the outcome. That is why she decided to make a fool of him behind his back. To make him small in the eyes of his men. She would free the Highland rebel that night.
The camp was subdued, as the moon’s wavering light drifted through the clouds. Catriona had feigned illness to her husband - claiming the constant travel was doing her no good.
Hector had scoffed, “and I thought you Scottish women were supposed to be hardy. Should have chosen a girl with better constitution.” But he let her be, more inclined to join the men in their drinking and rabble-rousing than interrogate his wife.
When the sounds of their revels died down, Catriona crept carefully and silently from the back of her tent. Her long black hair was held back in a tight bun as she snuck through the darkness - she didn’t want it hindering her in any way. In her boot was a small knife - it once belonged to her father, mainly used to gut fish. But tonight, she would use it to cut the stranger’s restraints…and perhaps bequeath it to him. Catriona realized the man would have been stripped of his own weapons, and if she were going to give him half a chance, this was the best she could do. She comforted herself in the loss of such a dear item with the thought that her father would have done the same. Across the camp sat a small tent, separated from the others and guarded by a single man. Judging by his absent stare and poorly stifled yawns, he would be easy enough to creep by. As long as the captive inside let up no alarm as she entered.
Crouching, balancing on the balls of her feet and her fingertips, Catriona couldn’t help but smirk. Crawling about in the mud. This certainly wasn’t the image Lord Hector had in mind for his bride, she was sure. Taking a long arc around to the back of the prisoner’s tent, Catriona sliced herself an entrance with the small knife. It was duller than she expected and took a few moments to truly cut a hole big enough for her. She hoped the rebel captive would remain quiet until she was finished.
Poking her head in at last, she came face to face with the man. He was sitting, hands tied to the wooden pole behind his back. He wore a ragged shirt, with no sign of buttons or string, and a heavy kilt tied about his waist. His boots were leather, battered by unknown years of mud and travel. The man’s head was tilted, his amber eyes sparkling with bewildered amusement.
“Hello,” he whispered, “is this meant to be a rescue - or are you simply redecorating?”
Catriona blinked, taken aback by the unexpected quip. Her cheeks flushed, a slight indignation brewing beneath her skin.
“I beg your pardon?” She uttered as quietly as possible, while still maintaining an air of offended dignity.
The man chuckled under his breath. “Forgive me. I was trying to think of something clever to say all that while, and that was the best I could muster - under the circumstances.”
He shrugged, tugging lightly at his restraints. Catriona hesitated only a moment more, bemused by the stranger’s odd nature. She shuffled into the tent and knelt on the other side of the pole.
“Well, you’ll have more time to think of something better,” she slipped the knife between the man’s hands and began to saw at the rope. “I still need to cut through these.”
“Saints preserve us, let’s pray you finish before sun up.” His voice was light, joking more than disparaging.
Catriona shook her head silently. She had envisioned their first encounter many times before nightfall - expecting the man to be stoic, noble, and certainly more grateful than this. But here he was teasing her, jesting. It was odd, however…somehow this did not feel out of place. It was as if the two of them had known each other long before this moment. As if two good friends were finally reuniting.
“What’s your name?” The man broke into her thoughts. He turned his head, looking over his shoulder to get a glimpse of his savior.
“Lady Catriona,” she replied quickly. “And you?”
“My name is Conall,” he began - then a thought seemed to strike him, “wait a moment…Lady?”
He attempted to twist himself around even more, but Catriona kept her focus on the ropes and the movement of her knife.
“Lady?” Conall repeated, keeping his voice low despite the curiosity in him.
“Yes.” Catriona said simply.
“As in the Lady married to our lovely Lord Hector?”
Catriona could feel her cheeks growing hot again. She had also envisioned leaving her husband unmentioned that night - but so accustomed to Hector’s own flaunting of the title, she let Lady slip. Her eyes flitted up for a moment to look at Conall’s face. Instead of the resentful scowl she had expected, his face sat in a playful grin.
“I fail to see the humor of the situation,” Catriona muttered. The ropes were finally beginning to fray. A few minutes more and the man would be free.
Conall laughed out loud involuntarily - but quickly caught himself, turning the laugh into an awkward cough before trailing off. The two of them sat frozen for a moment, listening for the sounds of the guard outside - he appeared to be unperturbed by the noise. Catriona cut with more ferocity.
“It’s brilliant though, isn’t it? The man’s own wife freeing a Highland rebel? I only wish I were his wife, so I could pull off something so dastardly.”
Catriona choked, only just managing to hide her own laughter. “Excuse me?” She asked through stifled giggles.
“Well, I mean,” Conall shrugged, “not literally of course…”
Finally, the last of the rope gave way and Conall’s wrists were free. He stretched his arms, bringing them around and massaging the life back into his hands. Catriona sat back on her heels, watching him - his hands were rough, broad. And yet she imagined they were much warmer than her husband’s.
“Shall we be off?” Once again, Conall interrupted her thoughts.
Catriona looked up, startled. “We?”
Conall nodded. “I can’t imagine you entered this tent and freed me because you like your husband.”
Catriona didn’t reply right away. Despite the hatred she held for her husband, despite the risk she had decided to take, despite everything, she hadn’t, in fact, imagined herself leaving. In Catriona’s mind, it wasn’t even possible - how could it be? When he had held her with such a deadly grip all these years. But now, on this quiet night, suddenly freedom was before her - staring at her with earnest, amber eyes.
“I’m afraid the longer we delay -.”
“Yes.” Catriona answered abruptly, causing Conall’s face to break into another grin.
He took her hand. “Then off we go, my Lady. And I promise, since you have done me the honor of saving my own life, I will do everything in my power to protect yours.”
Now this was the sort of noble behavior Catriona had hoped for. And she was right, the man’s hands were incredibly warm, and softer than they looked. Another moment and the tent was empty, save for the tattered ropes - and Catriona’s knife. She had not noticed it slip from her hands before they disappeared.
Morning was grasping its way up the horizon as Catriona and Conall rode toward his home. When they had snuck their way out of Hector’s camp, Conall suggested they would have better luck on horseback. In truth, Catriona didn’t believe they would be able to get away without raising suspicion and alarm - but as she watched from the shadows, Conall treaded the ground so lightly, that she began to wonder if he were more specter than man. As the two of them rode together, however, Catriona felt the weight of Conall’s arms around her, holding the reigns. Perhaps it was the cold wind, or the dawning realization that soon Hector may be nothing more than a bitter memory - but Catriona’s heart hammered in her chest like a war drum, dizzying her senses. In the distance, the mountains loomed and grew taller as they approached.
Conall gestured. “We should be there within another hour or so, my people reside within the mountains - to keep out of sight.”
He added this last comment, as if he already sensed the question on Catriona’s lips. Catriona only nodded. Within the mountains… Conall and his people must have once lived in a village of their own, on land of their own. Her expression hardened - it was men like Hector who were driving these people out, bending them to English rule or otherwise erasing them from the countryside. A sharp ire grew in the back of her throat. She had traded her countrymen for her own safety, sitting idle for years as Hector lead her from encampment to encampment to drive out the Highland rebels. She shook her head - but this was the last of it. The sun was rising on a new day for Catriona and she refused to turn back now.
Conall pulled up on the reigns gently and guided the horse to a slow trot. They had reached the base of the mountains. Here, Conall slid from the saddle.
“I’ll lead us towards the caves - it will be easier to lead the horse on foot.”
“Then I’ll join you, there’s no reason I should ride up here like some sort of noblewoman anymore,” Catriona offered, already moving to jump down.
But Conall stopped her with a quick hand on her calf. The movement startled Catriona, making her flinch - her body was still trained to guard itself against the touch of men. Conall seemed to notice her stiffen and quickly removed his hand apologetically.
“No,” he said a little awkwardly, then recovered himself. “No, you ought to remain saddled. The path is uneven and unkind to delicate feet.”
His mouth curled into an impish smile. Teasing again. Catriona pursed her lips but didn’t argue. “Very well, then. Lead the way, sir.”
Conall gave a mock bow, then took the reigns in one hand and began the final stretch of their journey. They fell silent as Conall concentrated, and Catriona took the opportunity to absorb her new surroundings. The mist was thicker here, leaving a fine layer of dew on the rocks and the dull grass. Casting a look over her shoulder, it appeared they had already climbed a fair distance. Catriona could see the vast fields behind her - hazy curtains of rain obscuring a portion of them, while other areas remained still untouched. Ahead of them, an invisible path drew them towards a dip between the slopes, disappearing around curves and mossy rocks. Conall stepped with certainty, however, clearly familiar to each step. Catriona shivered, whether due to the cold or the growing sense of anxiety in this strange territory, she wasn’t sure. Gradually, the fields fell away and soon Catriona and Conall were enveloped by the mountains on either side. It became a world in and of itself - the many peaks and ledges offering different forms of shelter and pathways. Catriona wondered just how many people could live here without ever being detected, as she quickly realized there were also a series of cave openings along the way. Many were deceptively hidden by rocks or plants, but soon she was able to pick up on a pattern and spot some of the less concealed entrances. A quick flutter of movement disturbed the moss hanging down in front of one of the caves. Catriona strained her eyes to see what sort of animal it might have been, but whatever had been there a moment ago was gone. Conall, meanwhile, paid no mind.
“Are we very close?” Catriona asked uneasily. Her voice felt foreign in the unworldly silence.
“Very nearly, my Lady, have no fear,” Conall replied without turning his head.
Catriona muttered quietly, “I am not afraid.”
Conall halted abruptly, cupping his hands around his mouth. He then let out a ghostly howl that echoed off the rocks. As it faded, he waited, ears pricked. Just a moment later, another howl came in return - somewhat faint, still a distance off. The sound of it cheered Conall immediately - Catriona could see a marked bounce in his step as he continued leading the horse once more. They turned a final corner and came upon a large cave mouth, no longer discreetly hidden. It led into the mountain - how deep, Catriona could only guess. At the entrance stood a few men - guards armed with spears or swords. Their reaction to Catriona and Conall’s appearance was mixed. One young man - thin, wiry, and bright-eyed, left his post immediately and ran to Conall’s side. They embraced happily, the young man exclaiming in excitement - as if he hadn’t even noticed Catriona. The two remaining men did gaze upon her. The older man of the group appeared skeptical. He stood casually, weight balanced on one leg, a hand resting on the hilt of his sword. His face was etched with lines that added authority to his character. The remaining man must have been roughly Conall’s age. His dark brown hair fell close to his shoulders in smooth waves. His expression was one of suspicion that leered at Catriona without any pretense of manners. He stood upright, a spear in his hand - which he methodically turned as he stared at the woman on horseback.
“I can’t believe it!” The young man was still speaking to Conall. “Back in one day, and with a woman as well! You had a better night than we did, didn’t you?”
He laughed and punched Conall in the arm playfully. Conall grabbed the young man and kept him in a headlock while he ruffled the other’s hair with vigor.
“Now don’t be rude, Arran. This woman saved my life and freed me, which is plenty more than I can say for you lot, eh?”
Arran squirmed out of Conall’s grip and bounced back a few feet, still grinning. Catriona hardly knew how to read the situation. Thus far, she hadn’t even been acknowledged directly - only about spoken as if she were simply an accessory Conall had brought home. Meanwhile the two men by the entrance clearly held doubts about her presence. She cleared her throat and spoke up.
“My name is Lady Catriona,” - Catriona stopped short. She had let the Lady slip once again. And judging by the sharp looks on all three of the new mens’ faces, she could tell it didn’t sit as well with them as it did Conall. But she soldiered on. “I have come with Conall by invitation, in exchange for freeing him from Lord Hector’s encampment.”
“Aye,” Conall joined in, “I owe her my life.”
The brown-haired man snorted derisively. Conall was about to call him out, when Catriona cut in instead.
“Excuse me,” she said firmly, locking eyes with the surly man. “It is no simple task sneaking through an entire camp, into a prisoner’s tent, and then out again without raising a single alarm - and I won’t have it snorted it at.”
The older man cracked a smile. “Well said, my Lady.”
He stepped down from his post and approached Catriona at last. Holding out his hand, Catriona allowed him to take hers, and he touched his lips to it briefly.
“My name is Eamon, and this unpleasant gentleman is Lenox.”
Lenox diverted his gaze self-consciously, but also lowered his guarded stance. After that moment, it seemed the tension had been broken and Catriona was welcomed into their dwelling. Arran took the horse and let it away while Conall and Eamon showed her inside.
The following days were certainly an adjustment - from Lord’s wife, to hide-away rebel. While Catriona was glad to be free of the grip of her husband, she was still unaccustomed to sleeping on the ground, without luxuries or niceties. But there were other aspects of her new life that outweighed some of the less appealing changes. For the first time in many years, Catriona was in the company of women again, friendly and warm, without the mask of court hiding their true natures or intentions. To pay her keep, Catriona had volunteered to help the other women in Conall’s clan. Without hesitation, they had welcomed her into their fold - cheeks bright, smiles broad. They treated her like a new sister-in-law.
Despite this warmth, however, there was still a sort of apprehension that seemed to follow Catriona about the caves. While the women were kind, there were many moments when a conversation would be suddenly cut short and nervous glances would be cast about the room - as if they had just narrowly avoided letting something slip. The men were just as secretive, if not more so. Their reception was often mixed - while some treated her kindly, like Eamon and Arran, there were many others like Lenox who would look at her with suspicious eyes. There finally came a night when Catriona could no longer put up with it, and she went to confront Conall is his chambers.
While she had not visited them before, Catriona knew that Conall resided alone in his own den in a particular part of the caves. She wound her way through the tunnels - they lead even further into the mountains than she could have imagined - and marched into Conall’s rooms. Her timing, unfortunately, was misjudged as she walked in to discover Conall undressing. The two of them stopped short, Catriona in the doorway and Conall standing frozen in the middle of his chambers, hands just about to remove the kilt tied around his waist. Unable to stop herself, Catriona stared openly at his body - it was marked with many scars, faded white lines that etched themselves across his chest and arms. But his figure seemed unmarred by them, blood still beating hot beneath the surface.
Conall cleared his throat. “Is there something I can do for you, my Lady?”
Catriona flushed deeply and shook her head. “Forgive me, I didn’t realize… I wanted to talk to you about something.”
Conall secured his kilt, and hastily grabbed a shirt to pull over his head. Catriona looked with regret as his muscles were quickly obscured by the fabric. “Yes?” He asked.
She did her best to put such thoughts out of her mind and focus on the point at hand. “There’s something you haven’t been telling me. Something everyone seems afraid to speak of in my presence.”
Conall smiled, but something about it seemed forced. “They’re just nervous having a noblewoman among us - it’s not something everyone here can easily accept.”
“That’s not it, I can tell you’re keeping something from me.” And it was strange, because Catriona knew for certain that was true. Conall was holding something back. She could tell this not because of everyone else’s behavior, but because of his. From the moment they had met, she knew his body language, was able to read him like an old friend. And right now, as he tried to smile, Catriona saw the shoulders slightly raised, the tension in his legs as he seemed to be holding ground - and knew exactly what that meant.
Conall caved at last, and exhaled a guilty laugh. “I suppose we can’t hide it forever, eh? Not with you living under our own roof.”
Catriona’s breath quickened. “What do you mean?”
Conall hesitated, he seemed to be searching for the right words. “Here,” he gestured, “why don’t we sit down.”
He led Catriona to his bed, a blanket of furs atop rocks, wood - Catriona wasn’t sure. They sat and Catriona couldn’t help but feel her heart beat faster as Conall took her hand in his. She hadn’t been alone with a man apart from Hector in so long…and then she began to grow anxious. Unsure of what signs to look for, the cues she would need to protect herself. But as she looked up at Conall, Catriona realized - she wouldn’t have to, of course she wouldn’t. Conall had sworn to protect her, and aside from that, she could see in every inch of his body that he meant her no harm. Conall seemed to notice her falter, and squeezed her hand in concern.
“Are you all right?” He asked, his eyebrows creasing ever so slightly. Catriona smiled at the endearing expression.
“I’m fine, I…I’ve spent so long with Hector, I didn’t think I would be safe with a man again.” She tried to brush it off, but the relief was thick in Catriona’s voice.
Conall moved closer - which might have frightened Catriona were she with anyone else, but with Conall it only felt reassuring.
“My Lady, you’re always safe with me.”
Catriona looked Conall in the eyes. They shone like gold in the low torch light. “Please,” she said, “call me Catriona.”
Conall’s expression of concern softened into one of his own relief. “Catriona,” he said softly. He lifted a hand, absently, to brush a few strands of hair from Catriona’s face; before he could draw it away again, Catriona took his hand and placed it on her cheek. Closing her eyes, she pressed her skin into the warm palm, feeling the creases of his fingers and his lifelines. Conall did not retreat, allowing Catriona to hold him there. She opened her eyes again, to see Conall’s golden eyes gazing back at her. The room was comforting and safe, and for the first time in many years, Catriona pulled someone towards her for a kiss.
Her purpose in Conall’s chambers was entirely forgotten, his imminent confession fluttered from her mind without a second thought. All she could think about was his lips on hers, his hot breath as they moved closer to one another. Too long had she gone without love, without someone who would enter her bed for her alone, for her pleasure. Conall carefully leaned Catriona back and they laid upon the furs. For just a moment, Conall pulled back.
“Are you sure?” He asked.
“Yes,” Catriona replied fervently and pulled him back towards her, “yes, please.”
Conall laughed, grinning as he left a trail of kisses down Catriona’s neck and shoulders. She gripped his hair, feeling the weight of him on top of her; she longed for this, her body growing hot as Conall continued to her collar bones and the small dip between them. Catriona could feel his body reacting in kind, and quickly they began to remove the layers that stood in their way, Conall barely letting his mouth leave her skin in the process. Catriona giggled, enjoying herself for the first time in too long. As the two of them embraced, Catriona ran her hands down Conall’s back, his sides, taking in his touch, breathing in his scent. She was about to reach between his legs, to help him along - but Conall gently stopped her hand.
“Wait,” he breathed into her ear.
He then began to travel down her body, his mouth brushing her breasts, her stomach, the sensitive skin of her thighs. Catriona’s breath caught in her throat as Conall at last placed his mouth between her legs, caressing her with his tongue, warming her with his breath. Catriona closed her eyes and let herself be washed away by the experience, almost melting into the furs as Conall slowly brought her to climax. Catriona gasped, she moaned, without realizing it - gripping the bed. She had forgotten it could be like this; she had forgotten that sweet feeling that grew within her, gradually peaking with each motion. She felt Conall run a hand up her torso, resting it on one of her breasts. She placed her hand on his, following the movement of his fingers, tracing her shape, teasing her nipple. Catriona’s back arched, her lips parted, she greedily leaned into Conall as he stroked her. Her spirit could leave her body at this point and Catriona wouldn’t have noticed or cared - finally, she was having a moment of pleasure for herself, not a distant, cold attempt to achieve a child, but simply a night to be with another person as greatly as they wished to be with her. Her mind went blank as she climaxed, her body flooded with the sensation - it had been too long. She could feel Conall’s grip tighten as she gave into it, and he worked more eagerly to keep it going. At long last she fell limp against the bed, breathing heavily, dizzy from the experience. Conall allowed her a moment’s rest, not saying anything - perhaps catching his own breath as they paused.
But Catriona would not let him wait for long. She opened her eyes and reached for him, pulled him up towards her again and they fell to kissing once more. This time Conall entered her, still tingling, and she held on to him tightly. She pulled her face away, unable to focus on their lips any longer - she buried her face in Conall’s shoulder as their hips rocked together, his thrusts going deep. Conall’s breath was hot in her ear, small moans of his own escaping his mouth as his pleasure grew. Vaguely Catriona wondered if he had been with any other women recently, but she was hardly going to let that thought distract her from the moment. They breathed together, moved together - all this time Catriona felt that somehow, she and Conall had been a part of each other’s lives long before they met, and now in this moment she couldn’t feel more sure of it. Conall groaned helplessly as he came, making Catriona shiver with pleasure as he sank into her. The two of them laid in each other’s arms for some time after that, sometimes giving the other lazy kisses, or tracing their fingers along the other’s body. They didn’t speak, there was no need. Both Catriona and Conall wanted to simply take in the moment for what it was, to absorb it undiluted. Eventually sleep came to them both, and they drifted into the night.
Morning crept into the caves, waking Catriona more by instinct than by light. Still content from the night before, Catriona rolled over to stretch her arm across Conall’s body. But as she did so, she discovered that he was nowhere to be seen. She sat up quickly, pulling the furs to her chest. Conall’s room was empty, quiet. Perhaps he had something to attend to early in the day - but a sense of unease couldn’t help but tug at Catriona’s heart. Perhaps the night before had been nothing but a brief tryst after all. Disoriented, Catriona gathered her things and dressed hastily.
Throughout the morning, she subtly searched the caves for Conall - asking his whereabouts as casually as she could. But by the sly grins on many of the women’s faces, she feared her state of disarray was only too obvious. After some time, a young woman by the name of Molly told Catriona where she might be able to find Conall. She had spotted him slipping away with Eamon and Lenox earlier that day, likely to visit one of their usual haunts. Catriona was pointed toward a mountain stream that curved its way into a small pond, hidden in a nearby valley. Catriona considered confronting Conall at once, but as she realized Eamon - and Lenox - would be there to witness her embarrassment, she decided to hang back before the men noticed her. She crept up carefully and obscured herself behind an outcrop of rocks. From her position, she could just make out their conversation. Conall seemed harried, pacing while Eamon stood back cooly, and Lenox gestured in irritation.
“Thank god you let her body distract you, Conall,” Lenox exclaimed. “That woman shouldn’t be here to begin with, and you were just going to hand away our secret?”
“How do you expect it to remain hidden forever? Catriona has every right to know if she’s going to be staying here -,” Conall began heatedly.
“Is she?” Lenox interjected, making it clear he desired otherwise.
Conall rounded on Lenox, coming close - his shoulders taught. “Do you expect me to simply abandon her? After what she -?”
“Please, Conall!” Lenox scoffed, “You cling too tightly to your misguided chivalry - she released you from the encampment. Why?”
“What are you talking about?” Conall practically growled.
“You tell us she is married to Lord Hector - have you ever stopped to wonder if she was meant to free you?”
Conall didn’t answer, processing Lenox’s words. Catriona’s chest tightened, aghast that Conall might consider them.
“That she was meant to lead Hector back to our camp for a slaughter?”
“Lady Catriona has been here for days, Lenox.” Eamon at last spoke up. “And there has been no sign of attack.”
“Because she’s been waiting for this fool to open his traitor mouth - .” Lenox waved his hand at Conall, but before he could drop it to his side again, the man was barreled to the ground by a dark shape.
It took Catriona a few skipped heartbeats to realize that Lenox was now being attacked by a wolf - unnaturally large, with thick dark fur. Her skin went cold, unable to move, she watched in terror as Lenox was pummeled by the wolf’s claws. Oddly Eamon barely reacted - in fact, he almost seemed annoyed by the commotion. Her eyes darted around the pond; Conall was no longer anywhere to be seen. Had he fled just as the wolf attacked? Another creature’s growls rang in Catriona’s ears and she looked back to see two animals now fighting, Lenox having disappeared in a matter of seconds. Their teeth gnashed, they clawed at each other’s hides, screaming in unnatural tones. Catriona put her hands on her ears, quaking in her hiding spot. She closed her eyes, praying for it to end without the animals coming near here. Distantly she heard Eamon shout.
“Enough!” He barked, louder than she would have expected from him.
The noises immediately died down, though a few growls and low whines lingered in the air. Reluctantly, Catriona peered around her cover once more. The two wolves were lying low at Eamon’s feet, their ears back in submission. Catriona marveled - they seemed to be under Eamon’s command. The older man looked at the now cowering animals scornfully. He stepped forward and grabbed both animals by the scruff of their necks - a feat that surely should have been impossible by their mere size.
“Acting like a pair of ill-bred pups.” He shouted, as a father would when scolding his children.
Then before Catriona’s own eyes, Conall and Lenox reappeared. She blinked. Where the wolves had strained, panting, in Eamon’s hands, now stood Conall and Lenox, their shirt collars pulled around their necks. The two of them glared at one another, faces flecked with blood and sweat. Eamon let them go roughly, causing the younger men to stumble.
“This is no way to act in front of a lady.” Eamon gestured towards Catriona’s very own hiding spot and she felt the blood drain from her face. Conall and Lenox went just as white as they realized an audience had been present all this time.
Eamon smiled, his anger seeming to dissipate as he approached Catriona. He held a hand out to her, as she was still crouching on the ground. Sheepishly, Catriona allowed him to help her up and lead her to the side of the pond with the others.
“Well, Lenox, it seems you and Conall both have given us away,” he said wryly.
Lenox stared at Catriona in shock, the color returning to his face as his cheeks went red. He turned abruptly and ran from the scene, leaving Conall to flounder on his own.
“Catriona -,” he stammered.
But she too turned on her heel and fled.
She wasn’t sure where she was going, her body moved without thought. All Catriona knew was that she needed to get away, to think - to be alone. The caves would provide her no solitude - and the rest of the clan…were they all those things? Catriona shuddered as she realized she had been residing all these days with monsters. But last night…could a monster have truly made love to her like that? She shook her head, forcing the memory out of her mind. First, she had to come to terms with what she had seen, what she had discovered.
After some time, Catriona came to a stop, slowly aware that her surroundings were no longer familiar. Her breath ran sharply through her lungs, and she sat heavily upon the dew laden ground. Catriona pulled her knees close to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. Wolf Shifters; she had heard tales of them as a child - men and women who would cast aside their earthly skin to become ghastly creatures that prowled the night. She furrowed her brow. The imagery didn’t match up. When Catriona thought of the people she had come to know, to live with, all she could think of were their smiles, their kind nature. And Conall…But she had seen with her own eyes how he had transformed into a snarling beast. How he tore at Lenox. Catriona’s body ran cold again, remembering the sounds that had rent the air. Catriona exclaimed in confusion, burying her face into her dress. How could it be the same man? Had she left her previous life with a monster, only to walk into the jaws of another? But no - despite all this, Catriona knew she would not, could not return to Hector. She realized grimly that she would pick supernatural shape-shifters over that wretched man any day. Granted, Catriona laughed to herself, she never expected that sort of ultimatum to present itself.
A cold breeze blew through the mountains, and with it brought a steady rain that darkened the ground around her. Catriona got to her feet, hoping the clan would allow her back amongst them. She began her return, casting about for the path to the caves only to find unmarked ground. Catriona lifted her eyes to the sky, guarding her face against the rain as best she could - the sun would tell her which direction to go. But of course, it was raining, the clouds obscured her only point of direction. Catriona cursed herself. She hugged her arms close to her chest as the rain began to seep through the thick cloth of her dress. The rain could last anywhere between twenty minutes to an hour; it may not be worth the wait for it to clear. Catriona took a hold of her skirts, hiking them up out of the mud and made her way roughly in the direction she had come - hoping for the best.
Her boots were heavy with mud in a matter of minutes, slowing Catriona’s footsteps. Perhaps these mountains were enchanted like its people, she thought idly - keeping strangers away by losing them in the twists and turns of the slopes, obscuring the true path to those who did not belong. Catriona pushed the wet strands of hair from her face, rain dripping from her fingers. Perhaps the rain too was enchanted - to never end, she mused bitterly, pulling her feet from another hidden puddle. She trembled in the cold, pausing to get her bearings. The weather breathed a heavy mist through the hills, tricking her eyes to make them believe the world was constantly shifting about her. Then, as the fog dispersed, Catriona saw a figure approach. It was dark, padding along the ground with its nose down. The dark wolf. She breathed in sharply at the other worldly sight, the creature emerging from the mist. The wolf stopped at her sound, and lifted its head. His amber eyes glowed, even in the dim, dull light. The world shifted again, obscured, blurred, and then reappeared - and there was Conall, standing before her. A small tremor seemed to run through his body, which Catriona realized was Conall’s attempt to keep himself from running to her, or making any sudden movements. For a moment, neither of them moved, the silence interrupted only by the haze of the rain.
“Conall,” Catriona said at last, softly.
Conall’s face brightened with tentative hope. Catriona then held a hand out and they walked to meet each other. Conall took Catriona’s hand and gasped lightly.
“You’re frozen through,” he remarked with alarm. He put Catriona’s hands to his lips and tried to warm them with his breath.
Absently, Catriona thought she ought to have pulled away, flinched at the gesture - that mouth hid dangerous teeth after all. But when Conall stood there as he did now, as a man, nothing in her body spoke of fear, even if she tried to will it.
“I’m sorry,” Catriona said, “for running away.”
Conall shook his head. “No, I should have told you much sooner.”
Catriona breathed a laugh, her eyes falling closed without her notice. She leaned forward to rest her head against Conall’s chest - to feel the warm heartbeat within. He placed his hand on her forehead, it was soothing.
“You’re catching cold,” she heard Conall say.
Catriona didn’t reply, her body felt heavy, as if she were sinking. Suddenly Conall was lifting her from the ground, holding her in his arms. Catriona’s eyes fluttered briefly.
“This really isn’t necessary,” she muttered. Nonetheless she made no other protests.
Conall kissed her forehead and said nothing, only turned and hurried them back to the caves.
Catriona breathed in deeply, slowly. She didn’t know when she had fallen asleep, only that she was now waking among something soft and that someone was stroking her hair. She cracked an eye open to see Conall watching over her. Catriona was in his bed, curled up in the furs. It was an oddly familiar sensation - comfortable, safe.
“So you’re wolves, eh?” She said with a small grin.
Conall himself smiled sheepishly, “I wish you could have seen me in a better light. Lenox just…”
“Gets your hackles up?” Catriona offered.
Conall looked at her pointedly, which made Catriona grin all the more.
“What does this mean for me?” She asked, more seriously. “Or for us?”
With a sigh, Conall laid his head on the bed - bent over where he sat. He jogged one leg uncertainly, closing his eyes in thought.
“You can stay here, nothing has to change if you don’t want it to.”
“And if Hector finds this place?”
“He already has.”
Catriona bolted upright. “What?” How could Conall sit there so simply and deliver that news.
“Some of our scouts have returned, having sighted his camp moving in.” Conall looked up, “they came back while you were resting, I didn’t want to wake you with bad news.”
“Well, good lord, Conall - how much time do we have?” Catriona could feel her throat tightening as her heart tried to force its way upwards.
“Eamon and the others are making preparations now. We should be able to move everyone by nightfall.”
“Move everyone? What? Do you mean we’re simply abandoning this place?” Catriona’s anxiety was quickly replaced by confusion. She pushed the furs aside and got out of bed to retrieve the rest of her clothes - the outer layers having been removed to dry. Conall sat up, alarmed, but Catriona paid him no mind as she re-dressed herself.
“We have done it before,” Conall stated simply.
Catriona stopped in her tracks and looked to Conall. “How many times?”
Conall shrugged. “Too many to count after all these years. We have to keep our people hidden. If it there is too much of a risk, we find somewhere else.”
The thought was hard to stomach. How many times had the clan been forced out of their home, only to find the next one knowing it would not last? Catriona’s expression grew steely, and Conall must have noticed because he straightened up with worry.
“What are you thinking?” He asked.
“You’re not moving,” Catriona replied flatly.
At this, Conall stood up. “Excuse me?” He almost laughed, “Catriona -.”
“No,” she interrupted, “I will not have my husband ruin another life. I cannot account for the others in your past who have done you wrong, but if it is Hector who is to threaten you, all of us - then I must do something.”
Conall shook his head, a bewildered smile crossing his lips. He crossed the room to Catriona and put his hands on her hips. Catriona held her chin high, worried Conall was going to attempt to talk her out of it.
“Then what is your plan, my Lady?” He simply asked.
That night, the clan gathered around a large bonfire in part of the caves that led deep into the mountain. The heat filled the room, making the air dance above them as it swam to the high arching ceiling. It had taken some convincing, but with Eamon’s support, Catriona and Conall were able to present their plan. Hector would be upon them by morning; those who could not fight would hold down the caves - lock off entryways, disguise passageways, turn their homes into a trap for the Englishmen should it come to that. Many had been hesitant, but shockingly enough, the one to win support for the plan was Lenox. He had approached Catriona and Conall grudgingly, unreadable - until he turned to the listening crowd and voiced his eagerness to fight for their home at last. Too long had they been hiding behind the image of rebels, when all they truly did was turn tail and run at the first sight of danger. The room murmured with agreement and dissent at his words, but in the end, their pride and eagerness for a battle at long last won out.
Now, as they passed drinks around the fire, Eamon stood to raise what might become a final toast.
“It’s been some time since any of us have seen real battle. Skirmishes certainly,” he tipped his glass to a certain group in the corner who whooped loudly. “But tomorrow could cost us blood, and lives. Let’s make sure we’ve made them worthwhile, eh?”
He let out a howl that echoed loudly through the chamber. It was taken up by the rest of the pack, ringing in all different tones as the voices melted into one. Catriona could feel it shake through her bones, stirring up something primeval in her soul. A part of her that longed to howl and dance like an animal too. Somewhere in the room, someone took up a drum while someone else took up the penny whistle. Soon the room was moving with more than just air, but with bodies. The clan did dance - celebrating, and preparing their souls for what may come. The energy grew and grew until men and women were embracing, shedding clothes, taking to the furs in heady delight. Catriona’s eyes dazzled in the light, sweat trickled down her neck as she swayed to the drums, in Conall’s arms. She gave way to the passion of the room, kissing Conall deeply, clinging to him in an almost desperate hunger. There was no longer anything outside of this moment. Tomorrow didn’t exist - there was only now, and them, and the clan, and the life they would create for those that may be lost.
Dizzy with energy, Catriona and Conall tumbled together to the floor, fumbling for what they could remove - joining those already in ecstasy. The fire burned brightly, even behind her eyelids. Catriona felt as if she could almost see Conall’s specter with her eyes closed, his gold aura shining before her as they made love once more. The beat of the drums pulsated through her body, their bodies, pulling them ever closer. Conall’s hands explored her skin as she lay on top of him and she groaned with pleasure as he slipped his fingers into her, massaging her lips as they grew wet. Catriona bit into Conall’s neck, running her tongue against him. He took this as encouragement and bent his fingers, making Catriona gasp. She wouldn’t allow him to finish her there, however - she wanted to be together, in every sense of the word. She kissed him, and whispered this to Conall. He ran his fingers along her one more time, sending shivers through Catriona’s body, then let himself slide into her as Catriona pushed him in deep. The room was alive with pleasure, with voices cooing and moaning and gasping, all to one purpose. Catriona sat up, arching her back into Conall’s movements. With one hand on her hip, Conall held her steady, while he reached with his other hand to grasp her breast. Briefly, Catriona opened her eyes, gazing up at the ceiling - the embers of the fire swirled above them like stars, caught up in the trails of the smoke, and the collective breath of the pack as they all seemed to breathe as one.
Catriona inhaled sharply, her vision going hazy as she climaxed. It grew deep within her, spreading from her legs, into a swarming heat that traveled up her stomach and through her chest. She let out a cry - one she was almost surprised to hear from her own mouth. Beneath her, Catriona heard Conall exclaim as well, his grip tightening on her as his body trembled with the force of it. The both of them gasped, breathing deeply as if all the air had been drawn from them.
It was a moment before Catriona came back to her senses, now lying next to Conall on the floor. He ran a hand down her cheek, gently, his eyes warm and wavering. He moved in closer, leaving small kisses on Catriona’s cheeks, her lips, her eyelids.
“You must promise to be careful tomorrow morning,” Conall spoke softly.
Catriona smirked, “I ought to be telling you that, shouldn’t I?”
“I’m not the one carrying a new life within me,” Conall placed a hand on Catriona’s stomach. Catriona’s eyes widened, putting her own hand atop his.
“Good lord, you wolves are potent,” she said before thinking.
Conall blinked in shock at the comment, clearly expecting a different sort of reaction. Then the two of them broke into laughter, unable to contain themselves. Catriona took Conall’s face in her hands and kissed him — eagerly, happily, savoring the moment for all it was worth.
Morning came slowly, allowing the night to step away at its own pace, along with the mist that blanketed the ground. Catriona stood alone near the base of the mountains - not far from the path that she and Conall had traveled on their first journey. She waited, wrapped in a heavy cloak that hung draped from her shoulders. The blood rose to her cheeks against the cold, contrasting sharply against her pale skin as she watched Hector and his men approach. He advanced with a large army of men and horses - they had seen her from some distance away, and deemed it safe to approach for a parley of sorts. Catriona watched with steely eyes as Hector drew his horse before her and looked down from the saddle.
“My darling wife,” he said without affection, “I thought you dead - having been taken captive by these ruthless men.”
It was clear that was the fate he wished for her - perhaps that was the excuse he had been using amongst his friends at court. Catriona wondered why he bothered to put on this show now. Hector tossed Catriona’s knife to the ground with distain. Her heart fluttered for a moment, having forgotten the small weapon long ago. Hector knew the truth, how could he not? If the day proved fatal for the Shifters, the look in Hector’s eyes made it plain that it would be her last as well. Only a short time ago, this would have made Catriona tremble, would have sent a chill through her bones. But now, she lifted her chin and returned his stare.
“We’re offering you a chance to surrender, before there is any needless bloodshed.” She told him calmly.
As expected, Hector laughed, throwing back his head - his men joined in, as always, and the army rippled with their amusement before Hector waved a hand for silence.
“Their own, I’m sure. My Lady -.”
Catriona’s skin rankled as the words passed Hector’s lips. She was no longer his.
“Step aside, or die like an animal along your new friends.” He drew his sword, signaling to his men who too readied their weapons.
“They are not the animals, Hector,” Catriona said - and then all hell broke loose. The wolves burst from the mountains, Conall and his people. They charged the field in their shifted forms, howling and snarling, without warning. Half of Hector’s men fled immediately at the sight, scrambling to turn their terrified horses as dozens of the huge beasts streamed towards them, teeth bared. Those who remained to fight stood little chance. Catriona watched, transfixed, as men were dragged from their saddles - fangs sunk into their legs - or toppled to the ground as wolves heaved their entire bodies against the horses. Where silence hung only moment ago, now the clamor of battle rang. For a moment, it seemed victory would be an easy thing - but as soon one of the men managed to land a blow, he took courage in the sight of the creature’s blood. He cried out, to rally the men, and they returned with renewed vigor to their fight. The wolves flagged, only slightly but enough to allow Hector’s men a better footing on the battleground. Still Catriona did not - could not - move, gazing from the sidelines as men and wolves alike began to soak the grass with the red stains of their blood. Her eyes searched the melee for Conall, for his dark fur and a flash of his amber eyes, but there was no discerning wolf from wolf in this confusion. A wretched yowl pierced the air and Catriona saw one of her comrades fall to the ground, the animal form shed as he collapsed in the dirt. Arran - the young man Catriona had met upon her arrival. A wound on his side bled freely as he tried to scramble back to his feet - but the soldier before him was already raising his sword again.
Without thinking, Catriona grabbed her discarded knife from the ground and ran into the fight. She had no idea what she was going to do, she could only move forward. Throwing herself at the man, Catriona managed to leap on to the man’s back. He exclaimed in anger and confusion as he tumbled to the ground. Arran watched with shocked amazement as Catriona dug the knife into the enemy’s arm - it wasn’t sharp enough to do much damage at this point, but it was enough to keep him from picking up his sword. The man howled in pain. Catriona pulled out the knife and gazed in disbelief at her work, but there was little time to pause. Suddenly Arran had his arm around her and was pulling her away, staggering as they both ducked for cover and made it out of harm’s way.
They collapsed on the grass, far enough from the fight. Arran panted. “Conall would never forgive me if I let you stay out there,” he said with a strained laugh.
Catriona removed her cloak, all she had at hand, and began to dress Arran’s wound. She looked back at the field distractedly, her terror growing - how many more would be hurt, or be killed before Hector would retreat? As if he could hear her thought echoed across the field, Hector appeared before them, his sword dripping. He spotted Catriona, and a flame seemed to burst in his eyes; he hefted his weapon in his hands and began to charge the woman and the injured man. Catriona took hold of Arran and turned her face away, closing her eyes tightly. But a vicious growl was heard, and Catriona turned her head again to see Conall - at last - crashing into Hector with great force. Conall pinned the Lord to the ground; the body of a man was nothing when weighed down beneath the huge body of a wolf. Conall sunk his teeth into Hector’s arm, forcing him to release his sword. Hector cried out in agony, clawing at the great wolf with his other hand, but it did little. Conall then brought his face close to Hector’s, baring his teeth so that the saliva dripped from them onto Hector’s clothes. The wolf’s hackles stood on end, his ears back, nose wrinkled and drawn. Hector gazed up at the creature before him in terror - trapped.
“Hector!” Catriona called to him, her own voice turned into a growl.
He looked to his former wife helplessly.
She offered no help, only this; “Leave this place - leave Scotland or you will die here.” To back up her statement, Conall snapped his teeth, causing Hector to yelp in fear. The words barely made it from his throat - but he swore, swore to retreat, to remove his men and return to England without word of what had happened there that day. It was that or have his head torn from his body - and Catriona knew how fond he was of keeping it there.
The battle had not been without its losses. The bodies of the fallen were gathered, and Catriona’s heart stung as she saw Lenox’s face among them. Conall reassured her that the man would have been happy with such a death, but the words would take time to truly sooth her. She leaned into Conall and let him hold her tight. They had driven Hector’s men away at last. Catriona thought grimly that more armies could come. Word may still spread of their presence in the mountains, if not the story of their supernatural secret. But as she thought of the child that would soon grow within her, Catriona could only look to the future with hope and happiness.
That night beneath the stars, they held another celebration. More somber but still with spirit. The clan made a bonfire for their lost ones, honored them with story and song - and most importantly with drink. Catriona sat with Conall, a sweet sadness in her chest as she watched the people who had so quickly become her new family say farewell to Lenox and the others. Conall placed his hand on hers and Catriona looked to him.
He brushed a few strands of hair from her face and tucked them behind her ear. “You know, I do have to thank Hector for something.”
Catriona balked. “What on earth could you possibly have to thank him for?”
“You.” Conall smiled. “Had I not ended up being captured - like a fool, I must say,” he chuckled, “we never would have had the chance to meet.”
Catriona blushed despite herself. “That is true. I have to congratulate you on being such an incompetent little rebel.” She needed him, poking her fingers into his ribs.
Conall laughed and grabbed Catriona, keeping her from any further attacks. Catriona squirmed with delight, giggling. “Unhand me!”
“No, I’m afraid you’ve wounded my pride while I was trying to be romantic,” Conall teased, holding his grip.
Catriona kicked her legs, managing to push them both over onto the ground. With a bit of effort, she pushed herself closer to Conall’s face. He looked up at her coyly.
“Well, if you shan’t let me go, I shall simply have to overpower you,” she said with a smirk.
Conall was going to reply with another clever quip, but before he could do so, Catriona kissed him. He breathed another laugh and released his hold on her. Catriona pulled her head up.
“Oh, you give up so easily!” She exclaimed. But Conall shushed her and pulled her back to his lips with a smile. They kissed tenderly, not with the excitement of the night before but with the contentment of knowing they were safe, and in each other’s arms.
The fire burned brightly, warming the two lovers, and the rest of the pack. That day marked a new life for them all - Catriona had found her new home, and the clan had at last laid claim to one of their own. Who knew if the future would bring more enemies, more fights to be fought - but they knew where they stood, and the clan would never let another army drive them away.
THE END
Bear of the Highlands
“Go faster, you infernal beast,” Lady Murdina yelled at the horse she had stolen from the stables of her childhood home.
Though it was already furiously galloping through the thickest parts of the forest, causing her to duck branches, it just wasn’t fast enough. She could see the knights her brother had sent closing in on her from behind. They would be on her in no time if this animal didn’t go faster. Her only hope was to lose them in the trees before the clearing up ahead. If she failed, she would be dragged back to her brother’s castle and handed over to Lord Cannon as his betrothed. She had rather die on the cliffs than have that happen.
Lord Cannon was well known to be a sadist. She would be his sixth wife in only five years. The first had not survived the night, it is told. Two of the others were locked away in the mad house and one had disappeared. Whether it was the woman’s own doing or his remained a speculation, but a body had yet to be recovered. It was commonly believed that she escaped, but no one knows to where. Talk of a dungeon and cruelty beyond measure was said not to be embellished, but rather watered down for the innocent ears of those who knew naught of such things.
Just ahead she could see a clearing, she headed towards it, but quickly banked left and ducked back into an adjoining section of trees, heading southeast at an angle. Hopefully, the knights would be well across the clearing before they realized she had changed course and was long gone. She barked at the horse to move faster as it continued its dangerous pace through low hanging limbs and treacherous footing.
As the forest grew darker and thicker, she slowed and paused the horse, letting them both catch their breath as she listened for hoof prints. Hearing none, she began walking the horse slowly through the blackness of the obsidian woods. It would be daylight soon and she would be more visible to those who followed her. The further she could get away in the darkness, the better, but she needed to give the horse a break. Unfortunately, the turn had resulted in her becoming a bid disoriented and she was no longer sure which direction she was headed. The tree cover prevented her from seeing the moon and stars above, so she had no guide other than instinct.
“Okay, we can’t keep walking fellow. Just hang in there with me and I promise that you will be the most spoiled horse in the land for getting me out of here alive,” she whispered to the stallion beneath her, smoothing the hair on his neck with her hand before digging in her heels and sending him charging forward again.
There were no sounds that she could hear as they rode, so she thought she was in the clear. Still, they made their way quickly along toward a part of the woods with which she was unfamiliar. There was no hesitation in charging right into it. Whatever was in there was still bound to be better than the cruelty that awaited her at home. Speed was of the essence now.
“What is wrong with you?” she said to the horse as she suddenly pulled short and side stepped what appeared to be a clearing in the woods. Murdina climbed down and looked ahead of them, discovering that they had reached a deep chasm that could not be seen for the thick woods that grew all the way up to its very edge. The horse had seen it and stopped.
“Good boy, but we can’t stay here,” she said, smoothing his nuzzle as she looked around and listened. Not too far off, she heard the crunch of branches. It could be anything, including her brother’s knights. There was no doubt they would pursue her until there was no hope of her being found. Their fate in returning to her brother without her in their clutches would be decidedly final in nature.
She climbed back on the horse and followed the forest along the edge of the deep ravine until she arrived at a clearing in the trees. There was no sign of the knights as she cleared the woods and began galloping quickly across the meadow ahead of her. She topped a slight ridge and her face fell. Facing her were a good portion of the knights, apparently having figured out what she had done and fallen back to track her back into the woods. She turned, too quick, and the horse came out from under her. It stumbled away as she struggled to get out from under its faltering feet.
“Well, look who decided to turn back up,” Sir Hooson said, climbing off his horse to retrieve her. Murdina scrambled toward the edge of the chasm.
“Stop! Come any closer to me and I’ll throw myself over the edge!” she screamed at him.
“Go ahead. You’ll save me the trouble of hauling you back to your brother kicking and screaming,” he laughed as he continued toward her.
Murdina took a deep breath and said a silent prayer as she stood on the edge, preparing to jump. Suddenly, strong arms were around her, pulling her upon the back of a black stallion headed deep into the woods. She barely had time to register what was happening as she was rushed into the dark part of the forest where no one dared go by a strange man she had never seen before. They were miles away before he stopped and climbed down, helping her off the horse before pulling the hood of the long dark cloak her wore away from his head. She stood looking up at his dark, handsome face and broad shoulders as he looked down upon her softly.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t have time to see if you were okay, but it appeared you were between a rock and hard place back there. Well, a mob and a hole might be more apt,” he told her with a smile.
“I’m . . . fine,” she hesitated. “Are we safe from them? I can’t go back with them.”
“You are safe,” he replied, putting his hands on her shoulders to calm her. She felt a shudder go through her entire being as he touched her. Whoever he was, he had saved her.
“Thank you so much. I was in dire straits,” she told him.
“It certainly seemed that way. Why are those men after you?” he asked.
Murdina considered the question, but was hesitant to answer. She had no idea who this man was. Just because he saved her didn’t mean he was a good guy. He could very well turn around and ransom her back to her brother if he knew who she was.
“They wanted to trade me for favors from a man with which they do business,” she replied.
“Sounds like nasty business, that. Where were you planning to go to get away from them? I can help you get there,” he replied.
“I didn’t know. I stole a horse and just took off on it. I was just trying to get far away and then sort out where I would go after that,” she replied.
“Well, our camp is not far. We are mostly men, but there are some women. You are welcome to stay with us for as long as you need. You will be safe. We only ask that you do your part,” he told her.
“That would be overwhelmingly kind of you. I would appreciate it very much,” she replied, feeling relieved.
“Very good. I’m Rory of the Clan McKordia,” he told her, looking at her softly.
“Anna,” she lied.
“Just Anna?” he asked.
“Yes, just Anna,” she told him.
“Well, Anna, let’s get you back to camp before those men decide to venture into the darkness to find you,” he replied.
Murdina knew that the men would not venture into the darkest part of the woods to look for her. At least, not at this late hour. She could go to Rory’s camp with him at least for the night to figure out what she must do from there. Tomorrow, the men would surely return with reinforcements to retrieve her. Climbing onto the back of Rory’s horse, she held onto him as they rode quietly through the thick part of the forest. She felt safe and secure with him, despite his being a stranger to her. Hopefully, he wouldn’t betray that simple trust and she would make it to some far away land where she could feel completely at ease.
“Here we are,” he told her as they rode into what appeared to be a makeshift encampment.
Looking around, Anna could see huts that were erected with whatever materials were handy. They were built all along the banks of the river that ran through the forest and ended in a waterfall of the cliff on the other side. The cliff jutted out so that three sides of the camp were protected by the steep climb it would take to reach it from below. The only way in was through the deepest part of the forest where very few dared to venture. There were tales of many who had done so and never returned. Even the cliff itself was obscured by a heavy bank of trees that enclosed the somewhat open area along the water’s edge
“This is quite the place you have set up here,” she remarked.
“Yes, it is. We aren’t really welcome in most of the established areas of Scotland. It is in our best interest to keep to ourselves the best that we can. You are lucky that I was out bartering with a nearby trader when I came across your situation,” he said.
“I was lucky. I don’t know that I can ever thank you enough,” she replied.
“It was nothing,” he replied, stopping and climbing down off the horse. As before, he reached up to help her down.
Anna looked awkwardly around, not sure what to do next. She had no place here. All her life she had lived behind castle walls. It would be obvious to them that she was not a commoner the moment she attempted to do any menial task. Her short lived relief gave way to panic.
“Where will I stay?” she asked nervously.
“I don’t know. I have room, but that would be inappropriate. Let me get my horse unpacked and we will find a place where you will be comfortable. Have you eaten today?” he asked.