Chapter Three

 

Red Holme eyed the blind lass riding beside him. 'Twas bizarre that she could ride a horse and not see where she was going. He was holding the bridle, but still… he was not entirely certain she couldn't see a little. Sometimes it seemed as if she was staring at him… straight into his eyes and into his soul. It felt unnatural.

He snorted, laughing at himself for the ridiculous thoughts.

Despite the scar on her face, Kristina still roused keen lust in him, as she always had. He yearned to wrap those long blond curls around his fingers and hold her down so he could take her any way and every way possible.

But from the first time he'd met her, she had treated him like bog scum. How snobbish she'd been, her nose upturned like a princess, golden earrings dangling from her ears. She still held that regal air, her spine straight as an arrow, but now her fine clothing was splattered with mud, and he saw no gold upon her.

It thrilled him to see her brought down to his level… lower than him, now that she was their hostage and couldn't see besides. He grinned. Somewhere along this trip he would take from her what he wanted. Once he'd humiliated her as she had him, he would be satisfied.

Blackburn didn't care about her beyond what leverage she provided to get his precious wife back. Kristina was naught but a pawn.

Blackburn veered off the trail and toward a grassy field near a loch. "Halt here!"

Holme muttered a curse under his breath. He was sick to death of following Blackburn's orders. The man was a bastard nobody, never meant to be a chief. Holme, on the other hand, was the legitimate son of the former MacKillican chief. But the title and lands of his father had been taken away by the king for a minor infraction. He'd been forced to drop his true name and take on a false one, else be arrested for the part he'd played in the battle more than ten years ago, just before the king had granted the land to another clan.

Holme was the one who was supposed to be a chief, not Blackburn… although of a different clan. Most of the men of the MacKillican clan were either dead or dispersed throughout the countryside. He retained some loyal friends from his own clan who now worked as guards for Blackburn—Dobson, Fordyce, Mungo, and Scroggie. Although the four were fearsome warriors, they were not enough to help him lay siege to Rhodie Castle, and he did not have enough coin to hire more men. Even if he did take back the castle he'd grown up in, the king would send out forces to kill him and anyone who followed him.

Still… sometimes, he would just love to have some revenge, even if it cost him his life. He was starting to realize being some other man's servant was a fate worse than death. His da would think him the lowest of cowards for not at least trying to regain their castle or to seek revenge against the thieves who now held it and who'd killed his da.

After Holme swung down from his horse, he was disappointed to find that Kristina had already dismounted as well. He'd wanted to grasp hold of her and lift her down, mayhap run his hand over her breast.

"Ralston?" Kristina called out.

"Why are you calling him?" Holme was sick of Ralston sticking by her like a leech, getting in his way.

She turned to Holme, one side of her face immaculately beautiful with fair, smooth skin, and the other side marred by a puckered, thick pink line. Her blue eyes were directed toward him, but unfocused. An unnerving chill ran through him.

"I must use the bushes," she said.

Imagining her hiking up her skirts in the middle of the field for everyone to see, Holme chuckled. Aye, he would love to see that. "Come. I'll help you." He clutched her arm.

She struggled to free herself from his hold. "Nay! Unhand me!"

Her forceful, demanding tone only aroused him more, but he released her. There were too many people around now, anyway. "Ralston, aye?" Holme asked. "Did you give him a wee peek earlier? Maybe you wish to drag him off into the bushes for some sport."

Her cheeks reddened. "Don't be ridiculous!"

Young Ralston approached, little more than a lad, 'haps in his early twenties, but he was brawny and strong. 'Twas why Blackburn had hired him. "Is everything all right, m'lady?"

"Nay, 'tis not. I have need of the privacy of the bushes again. Would you help me?"

"Of course. I see some just over there beyond the field. I'll stand guard." He took her hand and placed it around his bent elbow.

"Hold on there, Ralston," Holme said, annoyance spurring him. "She's no longer your charge. Blackburn wishes me to guard her."

The young man's blue eyes turned hard as ice. "You're harassing her and trying to take advantage."

"Is that what you think, wee pup? 'Haps you forgot I far outrank you."

Ralston clenched his jaw. "The chief wishes the lady kept safe until we reach the castle where his wife is being held."

Annoyance rising to the surface, Holme grasped Kristina's other arm. "I'll keep her safe in the bushes. Have no worries."

"Take your hands off her!" Ralston growled.

Dark rage near consumed Holme. "How dare you think to order me about? I am your commander!"

"What's the quarrel about?" Blackburn demanded, storming toward them.

"I'm merely guarding the lady, as you asked." Holme ground his teeth. If Blackburn weren't here, he'd dirk Ralston and be done with it.

"He's harassing her," Ralston said. "Not allowing her privacy to use the bushes."

Holme forced himself to chuckle, despite wanting to run both men through. "You sound like a whiny bairn, Ralston. I have far more experience in protecting ladies than you do."

"I beg of you, chief, allow me to guard her," Ralston said. "I'll keep her safer."

"Very well," Blackburn said. "I want her in good health when we reach Bearach. No bruises or cuts. If I see any on her I'll cut you both down!" Blackburn strode away.

"Watch yourself, Ralston," Holme said through clenched teeth. "You may find a dirk in your back soon." He walked a few steps away, trying to keep his rage under control.

"Come, m'lady." Ralston wrapped her hand around his elbow.

"He is a beast," Kristina hissed in a whisper as Ralston led her away.

Eyes narrowed, Holme watched them walk up the hill toward the bushes at the edge of the field. "Beast, huh?" he muttered, then spat on the ground. He would show her just how much of a beast he could be, no cuts or bruises necessary.

 

***

 

After riding for several more hours up and down hills, through the sharp, cold wind, Kristina was almost ready to topple from her horse when Blackburn yelled, "Halt! We make camp here!"

"Thank the saints," she whispered.

She could smell naught but the fresh air and pine forests, nor hear anything except a few birds and the distant roar of a red deer stag. 'Twas obvious to her they were deep in the Highlands now. The autumn air had grown colder, and a light mist hissed through the air. She was thankful she'd had the foresight to put on two layers of her warmest clothing before being taken hostage.

She dismounted and heard Ralston approaching. She'd started to recognize his footsteps, lighter and stealthier than some of the other men. "Where are we? Is there a village close by?"

"Nay," Ralston said. "We're going to camp in this field near the loch."

She was too exhausted to care. She simply wanted to lie down and sleep.

While she made use of the bushes, she felt a rock beneath her leather boot. She picked it up, finding it to be oval shaped, like an egg, except larger—the perfect size to fit into her hand for a weapon. It also fit into her pouch, where she slid it. She still had her knife, but she feared it was not long or sturdy enough to do any damage to a man wearing leather armor, unless she could slit his throat. Not that she wanted to kill anyone, but she did not like the threatening, sinister tone Holme used with her. Who knew when he might get violent with her? Anytime she was near him, she felt tension and aggression emanating from him, especially after he and Ralston had argued.

She stood, straightened her clothing and carefully stepped forward. "Ralston, I'm finished."

After a moment, his footsteps approached, rustling in the grass. "M'lady." He took her arm, then guided her across the field. "If you wish, you can sit on this stone while the men pitch your tent."

Why was he so kind to her when all the other men in this party either were brutes or never spoke to her?

"I can't tell you how much I appreciate your help." Tears pricked her eyes. She didn't know what she would do without him.

"'Tis no bother at all."

She sat, finding the stone about two feet in height, flat on top, and wet from the light mist. 'Twas unfortunate the stone was not large enough to lie down upon. Leaning forward, she rested her head on her folded arms, hoping she wouldn't drop off to sleep and topple to the ground.

She said a prayer of thanks for her continued safety, then prayed for Ralston because he was so considerate, and also for Anna's well-being. Imagining Anna securely ensconced in a castle, she drifted toward sleep.

"M'lady?" Ralston's voice startled her from the drowsy reverie, and she sat up. "You can get into the tent now."

"Sounds heavenly. Will you be sleeping nearby?" she whispered, hoping Holme wouldn't hear her. "I would feel safer if you were."

"Aye, just beside your tent, but I must also take my turn at watch sometime during the night and patrol the perimeter of the camp. But I will keep an eye on your tent."

"I'm so grateful to you." She wanted to give him a reward once this journey was done, but she had little to offer him. Her mother's gold earrings were the only thing of value she had, but she could not give them up.

After he guided her toward the tent, she crawled inside to lie down out of the mist and cold. Pulling the smooth rock from her pouch, she held it in her hand. It gave her a small measure of comfort, like a talisman. She would keep it always to remind her of this arduous journey.

What seemed only moments later, Ralston awoke her to give her a bannock, some roasted rabbit and a cup of fresh, cold water. She must have been asleep for an hour or more without even realizing it, if they'd had time to hunt rabbits and roast them for supper.

Ralston seemed a good man, and she trusted him to protect her while she slept. She liked the fact that she reminded him of his sister, but she was sad that he'd lost her. Mayhap she could be his new sister. She'd always wanted an older brother and had thought she might feel safer if she had one.

Her older sister was near as tough as a man… at least, emotionally she was. Physically, of course, she was petite and had been no match for Blackburn when he'd shoved her down two years prior and caused her to have a miscarriage. He'd wished to kill the former chief's heir before he could be born. The bairn, though, had been a wee lass. No doubt Anna still grieved the terrible loss. How she wished she could be with her sister and embrace her. Tears pricked her eyes and tightened her throat, making it difficult to swallow the food. She wiped her eyes on her sleeve. "You must grow tough, Kristina," she whispered.

After eating, she became drowsy, lay down amid the blankets and dropped back to sleep. Her bizarre dreams about riding a horse endlessly turned to nightmares, and suddenly her mother appeared before her in a swirl of golden light.

Kristina! Her mother yelled within the dream, her tone alarmed.

Heart pounding, Kristina startled awake to find someone crawling into the tent. "Who are you?"

When no answer came, she sniffed the air and detected Holme's body odor. Panic near stole her breath, but she managed to scream, searching the blanket beside her for the rock she'd dropped during her sleep.

"Be quiet," he growled low, then plastered his disgusting mouth to hers, his beard scratching her face.

Her fingers touched the rock and she clasped it in her palm. She slammed it against his head, then kicked and shoved at him, managing to get out another brief yell for help.

"Ow, you little bitch," he seethed.

"What's going on?" That sounded like Ralston.

"Help!"

"You bastard!" Ralston yelled.

Holme was dragged off her, and he finally let go. The sounds of fists pounding against flesh followed, along with scuffling, growls and curses.

Dear lord, she hoped Holme didn't kill Ralston. He was the only kind man in this group of ruffians.

"Halt!" Blackburn commanded somewhere outside the tent. "Cease your fighting! Or you'll both be finding yourselves dangling from yon tree!"

Holme continued his curses and threats against Ralston.

"Stand down, Holme," Blackburn ordered. "And stay away from the lass until I have my wife back. After that, I don't care what you do to her." Footsteps tromped closer. "Kristina?"

If she pretended injury, would Blackburn treat her better and keep that beast away from her? She lay silent and still as if passed out.

"Bring a lantern." Blackburn opened the tent flap. "If you've killed her, Holme, I'll string you up by the neck! She's the only leverage I have."

"I didn't kill her."

Soon, a lantern rattled nearby and she smelled the burning fat of the tallow candle. The heat of it warmed her skin.

"Kristina?" Blackburn shoved roughly at her shoulder.

She frowned, pretending to awaken, pressed a hand to her head and moaned.

"Are you awake?"

"Aye," she mumbled.

"I think you'll survive." Blackburn left the tent. Outside, he said, "Holme, you ken what a frail lass she is. You could easily kill her. Be patient until we reach Bearach. In the meantime, I'm assigning Ralston to keep her alive."

Thank the saints.

Where was this Bearach he spoke of? She'd never heard of it. Although Blackburn was a knave, at least he would keep Holme away from her until they reached Anna. Still, she didn't want to be the bait that lured Anna from her safe hiding place—at least, she hoped Anna was safe.

 

***

 

After supper at the high table at Bearach Castle, Colin watched Neacal as he spoke quietly to his new love, Anna. Colin held back a grin. Such opposites they were. And yet when they were looking at each other, or talking quietly together, they lit up from within. Great love shone in their eyes and in their smiles. Who would've guessed Neacal would find a lady who looked and sang like an angel to pull him from the pit of tormented despair his life had become? Colin was incredibly happy for his friend.

Still, he could not deny he felt a wee bit envious of their romance. But at the same time, he was unsure whether he would ever want to find love again.

Colin's father, Chief Maitland Cameron, urged him to marry soon and had suggested several chiefs' daughters for him to consider. 'Twas not as if Colin was old at six and twenty. Of a certainty, he would have to marry and sire an heir eventually. But he didn't know if he could withstand having his heart chopped to bits and handed back to him on a silver platter again.

Every time he thought of his former betrothed, Lady Emma MacMillan, his gut knotted. He'd loved her to distraction. He still remembered how she'd made him feel. He'd been elated when she'd agreed to marry him. But when she'd called off the wedding, he'd felt as if he'd been caught beneath a rock-slide.

Colin didn't wish to discuss it with Neacal, especially since he'd found such a joyful love with Anna. But Colin couldn't deny he missed the feelings of excitement upon finding a lass he was drawn to. What if he never felt the intensity of passion and love again? What if he ever remained lonely? He hadn't revealed to anyone the depth of his pain from the rejection. It hadn't been that long ago, and he assumed in time he would forget about Emma. He held no ill will toward her and wished her happiness and good health.

Even though his da often urged him to go to gatherings, feasts, and dances to meet a future bride, he had been avoiding social events. Instead, he'd been focusing on a different type of clan alliances, ones that didn't require marriage to be a part of it. A sort of brotherhood of Highland clans in his area that might band together for the greater good. Less feuding and more cooperation. Too many lives were lost over silly conflicts.

'Twas true that some conflicts though, like the one Neacal now faced, were not silly in the least and they had to be opposed.

Anna arose from the table and headed for the stairs.

Neacal turned to him. "How about a wee dram in the solar?"

"Aye." Colin was tired of the music, dancing and noise of the great hall anyway. He followed Neacal from the room.

Once inside the solar, Colin closed the door while Neacal poured two small glasses of whisky.

Colin took the glass Neacal offered him, then raised it. "To you and the new love you've found. May you two ever be happy together."

They both drank.

"I thank you for your great wishes." Neacal set his glass on a small table, knelt before the fireplace and added peat. "What about you?"

Colin near groaned at that question. "What about me?"

Dusting off his hands, Neacal arose and eyed him. "You're normally in good cheer, but you looked gloomy at supper." Neacal gestured toward a chair near the hearth, then sat down in the one opposite.

Taking a seat, Colin wanted to mutter a curse. He'd hoped no one would notice his bleak mood. He certainly hadn't thought Neacal would, with his attention focused on Anna much of the time. Colin was rarely grumpy, but apparently he was feeling lonelier than he'd realized. Plus, he'd had another long day out patrolling for enemies with his men.

Colin forced a smile. "I'm well."

"I ken you are physically. You told me earlier that your da wishes you to marry and that you want to choose your own bride. Have you met any interesting ladies since I last saw you?"

Colin didn't want to discuss this now. But he'd never lied to Neacal and didn't intend to start now, regardless of how this subject grated.

"Aye. One."

Neacal eyed him expectantly. "And?"

Hell, he hated talking about feelings. But this was his best friend and foster brother. He trusted Neacal and didn't want to give the impression he was hiding anything. His friend might find out sooner or later anyway.

Colin shrugged. "She broke the betrothal, but 'tis naught to worry over."

"I didn't ken you were betrothed." Neacal frowned, looking concerned.

"You had far more important and traumatic things to deal with at the time."

"What happened? Who were you betrothed to?"

"Lady Emma MacMillan. Her clan would've been a strong ally." Cringing inwardly, Colin realized he was trying to disguise the reason he'd wanted to marry her in the first place.

Neacal raised a brow. "Are you certain it wasn't more than an alliance you lost?"

His friend was too damned perceptive. Colin blew out a breath, then sipped the whisky, feeling the burn all the way down his throat.

"Very well. If you must know, I loved her. She's beautiful, spirited and intelligent." Remembering her didn't hurt nearly as much now as it had several months ago. "A few weeks before the wedding, her father informed me she wished to call it off. After much pressure from me, her father finally revealed that an earl had fallen in love with Emma, and she with him. He offered for her. Since the man outranks me, and is wealthier besides, her father went along with her change of heart. He paid me a small recompense, but it didn't take away the sting of her rejection. Especially when she'd already told me she loved me. She must have been lying."

"'Tis a hellish situation. I wish you'd told me sooner."

Colin shrugged. "I would prefer to forget it and put it behind me." He'd kept his distance from marriageable ladies since. A war waged inside him. Should he marry a lady he didn't love simply to bear an heir—someone who couldn't hurt him—or should he risk his heart again by waiting for a lady he could fall in love with? Someone he might find blissful happiness with… or another bout of soul-rending rejection?

He hated thinking about it. In fact, he'd rather go to battle than mull it over. He'd much rather focus on the impending attack.

"Enough about me. When do you think Blackburn MacCromar and his men will arrive and attempt a siege?"

Three days earlier, Neacal's other enemies, MacDonald of Sleat and Chief Titus MacRankin—the man who had tortured Neacal—had joined forces and made a failed attempt at taking Bearach. Thank the saints, Neacal's and Colin's clans had suffered no loss of life. Their enemies hadn't fared so well. The night before, Sleat and MacRankin had been in a nearby village, then they'd vanished.

"They could show up at any time," Neacal said. "He'll not give up on wanting Anna back."

"What if MacCromar, MacRankin and Sleat show up at the same time?"

Neacal looked agonized of a sudden. "I've already thought of it. We'll be outnumbered."

 

***

 

Kristina and the MacCromars had been traveling for five days in much the same way they had the first day, except sometimes they took ferries along the lochs, the latest of which was Loch Shiel. They had then ridden on horseback another couple of hours. She prayed they reached their destination soon, for she didn't know how much more she could take.

Although Holme made snide remarks, threats and promises at every opportunity, he had not touched her again. Ralston stayed close by her, and each day he seemed more like a brother to her. He made sure she had food and water, as well as privacy when she needed it.

"We'll be arriving at Bearach Castle soon," Blackburn announced. "And I want all of you to obey my orders. Come, we'll talk over here. Ralston, you and Kristina stay over there."

She heard the noise of many men dismounting and trampling the grass and other vegetation, rocks crunching and clacking beneath their boots, then the low murmur of voices.

"What are they saying?" Kristina whispered. "Can you hear them or read their lips?"

"Nay," Ralston said. "But I ken he's going to use you as leverage to draw your sister out."

Even though she'd known it, panic grasped hold of her chest yet again. "What can I do? I don't want Anna to be hurt."

"I have no inkling. Damnation, here they come," Ralston murmured.

"Help her dismount," Blackburn ordered.

Kristina had no idea which man he spoke to, but one of the guards lifted her down from the saddle. What were they going to do? Icy fear raced along her veins as she stood vulnerable before them. Still, she maintained her upright posture and proud bearing.

"Here. Tie her hands and feet with this rope," Blackburn said.

Kristina's whole body tensed, the prickles of fear intensifying. "Nay. Why is that necessary?"

"Because I said so."

"I cannot see. How could I run away?" Tears pricked her eyes but she forced them back.

"You have no say in the matter! Do you not remember what happened the last time you argued with me?"

Knave!

Two of the guards forced her hands together and bound them.

"Now, help her sit on the ground and tie her ankles," Blackburn said.

Damn him! Kristina didn't understand why he would need to do this… unless he was going to toss her in a loch.

"If you're going to drown me, at least be man enough to say so," she demanded, tears dripping from her eyes.

Several snickers followed. Blackburn laughed darkly. "I'm nay going to drown you, at least not until I have your sister bound and gagged on the horse in front of me. Once I have her, I don't care what happens to you."

Bastard! What could she do to prevent him from capturing Anna? He would treat her horribly—beat her and abuse her.

Once Kristina's ankles were tied, Blackburn said, "Throw her facedown over Ralston's lap."

"With all due respect, chief, why would you treat her this way? She is no danger to anyone."

"I didn't ask for your opinion, Ralston. Either keep your mouth shut and do your job, or you can turn over your weapons now and head back east on foot."

"Lift her up here," Ralston said, relenting.

One of the brawny guards flung her across the saddle and Ralston's legs. Pain shot through her stomach. Saints, he'd near knocked the breath from her. 'Twas the most uncomfortable position she'd ever been in. Despite the pain, she tried to inhale as deeply as possible.

"Damn the man," Ralston grumbled low, for her ears only. "I see no reason for this."

They rode a half hour farther and Blackburn yelled, "Fan out, men. Archers, ready your bows."

"We've arrived at the castle," Ralston told her.

"What does it look like?" she asked, trying to ignore the pain and discomfort of her position.

"It is made of dark stone and has high walls. It sits on a small island in a loch—"

"Quiet," Blackburn ordered through clenched teeth. "Holme, get her off the horse and make her be quiet."

"There's no need to—" Ralston began.

Someone slapped her hard on the arse.

She screamed. "Keep your hands off me!" She knew 'twas Holme who had done it.

He chuckled and dragged her from the horse. She screamed again. Suddenly she was upright, her feet on the ground and her head spinning from the quick change in position.

"Who is the lady?" a man yelled from the distance.

"I'm sure you must have guessed!" Blackburn called back. "Send my wife out to me and Lady Kristina will not be harmed."

Nay, please, Anna, stay inside.

"Kristina!" Good heavens… that was her sister's voice.

"Anna! Is it really you?" Kristina yelled.

"Aye. Release her at once, you blackguard!" Anna ordered.

Blackburn laughed, though there was no humor in it. "Lady Kristina wanted to travel with us to get you, my sweet. She misses her sister."

"Don't—" Kristina began, but a meaty hand clamped over her lips, muffling her warning.

"Shut your mouth," Holme growled into her ear.

Don't do it, Anna. Stay where you are, she wanted to scream, but couldn't. Please God, don't let her come out here.

"We'll come out!" the distant man called, the chief, she assumed.

Nay!

In the quiet, the sound of many horses' hooves pounding over the rocks and dirt reached her ears. They were not approaching from the castle but from the opposite direction. Was another war-band coming upon them? Would they attack?

"Put Kristina on your horse and hold onto her tight," Blackburn said, sounding both riled and panicked. "Half of you guard the lady and half come with me." Several horses trotted past them.

"Hold her while I mount, then hand her up to me," Holme said.

A different guard latched his hands onto her and then lifted her to sit sideways before Holme. Ugh! She hated his stench. Even the strong salt-scented wind couldn't entirely squelch it.

She listened, trying to figure out what was happening. "Where is Ralston?"

"Don't worry about him," Holme said.

Please, God, protect Ralston.

One of Blackburn's guards shouted, "Galleys approaching!"

This caused an uproar amongst the men and much yelling as they prepared for battle. She heard the name MacKenzies growled a few times.

Since she could see naught, all she could do was pray for Anna's safety and her own. "What's happening?"

"Be quiet and stay still," Holme snapped.

She heard someone else shout that near two hundred MacKenzies were advancing from the sea loch.

"Dear God, help us," she whispered. She couldn't keep count of how many clans were gathering here—MacCromars, MacDonalds, MacKenzies. This might be an all-out war, and she sat in the midst of it. Holme's grip on her tightened and his breathing quickened. He snarled curses. His horse danced about nervously beneath them, jostling her.

"Do you see my sister?" she asked.

"I said to shut your mouth." Cold metal touched the side of her neck. "Since you can't see, I'll tell you… I have a knife against your throat. Any of the MacDonalds or MacKenzies come near us and you're dead."

Kristina closed her eyes and prayed for a miracle, tears streaming down her cheeks.

War cries sounded in the distance. Swords clanged together. The start of the battle.

"Saints preserve us," Kristina whispered, shivering against the fierce, cold sea wind.

"Damned MacDonalds," Holme grumbled.

Men shouted and groaned in agony and the clash of metal continued, coming closer and closer.