Highlander's Forbidden Love: Only love can heal the scars of the past...

by Faris, Fiona

  After what seemed to her like an eternity, Elizabeth led the horses under the archway, and Duncan emerged from the pend and took the reins of one of them. Then, the moment of truth. They would have to unencumber the horses’ hooves of the muffling and strike out over the wooden drawbridge and across the open ground of the outer ward. It was a dark moonless night, and there was a good chance that they would not be seen, but the guards could hardly fail to hear them as their hoofbeats drummed on the wooden planks of the bridge and the hard turf of the pasture. They were also likely to raise a bellowing panic among the sleeping kye as they thundered past.

  But there was no alternative; they would just have to ride as hard and as fast as they could and hope to put as much distance as possible between themselves and Slains before the castle was roused and a pursuit could be mounted.

  Nodding to one another, they heeled their mounts and galloped out through the gates.

  * * *

  Gilbert stormed out of the keep and across the courtyard, minutes after the alarum had been sounded. No one knew quite what had happened. The guards reported that two horsemen had been heard speeding from the castle. At first, nothing much had been thought of it. The guards had found it strange that two riders should be leaving the castle at that time of the night and without any prior warning but had assumed that they were on some urgent business of the Earl’s. It was only when the stable lads had reported that two horses had been stolen, and the guard who should have been in the guardhouse had returned to his post from his doxy’s bed and discovered Sanderson passed-out drunk on the Earl’s wine and the dungeon empty, that the men had raised a hue and cry.

  Precious time has been lost, Gilbert thought. He was furious; the Comyn chiel and whoever had rescued him had a head start on them.

  A large party of about twenty men-at-arms was assembling in the courtyard, amid much confusion. They were all still half-asleep, half-dressed, and only half-aware of what had happened. Horses, made skittish by all the confusion and clamor of the torchlit darkness, were being brought out and saddled very much against their wishes. Grooms and stable lads alike were cursing and swearing at their recalcitrant charges. All this delay, Gilbert reflected, was giving even more advantage to the fugitives. He was beginning to doubt that they would ever be able to pick up their trail now before morning, by which time they would be well away.

  “James! Matthew!” he shouted.

  His two lieutenants were at his side in a trice.

  “Leave the captains to ready their men and follow me,” he ordered. “We must pursue them immediately, or they will surely escape.”

  The three raced to their horses and quickly mounted. A moment later, they were clattering over the drawbridge and galloping at breakneck speed across the outer ward towards the earth rampart.

  * * *

  Margaret watched from the walkway atop the main tower as Gilbert and his lieutenants rode pell-mell across the outer ward. As soon as they passed through the rampart and out of sight, she returned to the garret door and descended the turret stairs to the solar. Entering the parlor, she cast off her cloak and threw herself down on a chair in her nightdress.

  She began to piece together in her mind what snatches she had learned from her husband and the passing servants. An intruder had seemingly stolen into the castle. He had entered unchallenged because the guard who was supposed to be on watch in the guardhouse had absented himself to be with his sweetheart. The intruder had made his way to Sanderson’s apartment, where Sanderson was lying dead drunk, and taken the key to the dungeon. Having released the Comyn lad, they had then spirited two horses out of the stables and made their escape.

  Margaret wondered at the audacity of it, and at the laxity of the castle’s security. With incompetence such as they had witnessed that night, it was a wonder that they had not already been murdered in their beds. Gilbert, she suspected, would be fuming, and she had no doubt that there would be a high penalty to be paid when he returned.

  But something troubled her about the whole affair. She thought it all through and realized just where the puzzle lay. Why had the mounts been stolen from the castle stables? Surely, whoever had come to Slains to rescue Comyn would have arrived on horseback, presumably bringing a mount for Comyn with him. It would have made more sense to have left mounts concealed somewhere nearby outside the castle and slipped clandestinely from the castle on foot than to have arrived on foot and risked being captured by only then procuring their means of escape.

  It simply did not make sense… Unless, that is, Comyn’s accomplice was already inside the castle to begin with.

  “Surely not,” she murmured to herself. “Surely, she wouldn’t…”

  She leaped to her feet and rushed along the passage to Elizabeth’s chamber. She paused outside the door and took a deep breath to compose herself, before throwing it open.

  She quickly scanned the room. Elizabeth’s bed was empty. She was not there.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  The Road to Aberdon

  Elizabeth and Duncan rode as fast as they dared, south, along the coast road towards Aberdon. The night was dry and still, and they made good progress. However, Duncan was weak from his recent imprisonment, the cramped cell, his refusal to eat Sanderson’s pig-swill, so they reluctantly called a halt to their flight to enjoy a brief rest. Elizabeth cursed herself for not thinking to bring some food along with her.

  They stopped by a burn that ran from a wood before spilling onto a broad sandy beach. The horses drank gladly from the burn, while Duncan went a little way downstream to wash the worst of the ordure from his hair and robes. Elizabeth carried out a quick forage in the wood and returned with some berries and beechnuts.

  “What is your plan?” Duncan asked, greedily swallowing the fruits and chewing on the raw nuts.

  Elizabeth bit her lip.

  “My plan was to get you out of the castle. Beyond that, I have not given much thought.”

  Duncan let out a long breath and looked off down the track.

  “So, we find ourselves on the road to Aberdon.” He nodded to himself. “That is not a bad road to be taking. A French crayer is due to put into Aberdon harbor in a few days’ time, carrying a shipment of Flanders wool and collecting a return shipment of timber. It is the same boat that I was due to take out of the country when I decided to abandon my mission.” He smiled. “It looks like you will be accompanying me after all.”

  “I will, my love. Only…”

  “Only what, my dearest?”

  Elizabeth exhaled as if she had been holding her breath for too long.

  “You have not been using me?”

  “Using you?”

  “Yes, Sir Gilbert, Lady Margaret… everyone has been telling me that you have just been using me all along, to further your mission. That you have been playing me for an innocent, for a fool.”

  Duncan sighed.

  “Darling, you are the main reason I abandoned my mission. The moment I plucked you from the sea, you have captivated my heart. Mairi Cullen did not realize how truly she spoke when she made jest about you being a selkie and that I should beware of you. Since that moment we sat opposite each other over Mairi’s hearth, I have been determined to find your seal-clothes to prevent you from leaving me and returning to the seal folk so that I could possess you in your beauty forever. I suddenly saw what a fool’s errand I was on in my mission and wanted nothing more than to be quit of it and far from the petty intrigues of kings and earls and the knaves they employ, with you by my side, as my wife and mate. I have not used you. They only think I’ve used you because they see conspiracy everywhere. My role as a conspirator ended the moment you climbed out of the sea and stole my heart away. I did not use you. I love you, Elizabeth, with every fiber of my being.”

  Elizabeth threw herself into his arms. She was weeping softly, shedding all her remaining doubts with her tears. She ran her palms over his face, over his wet hair, gazing ardently into his eyes, drinking in every detail of his fe
atures as if she wanted to stamp them on her soul. She wanted to possess him utterly, to make him a part of her and to make herself a part of him.

  “Oh, my love, my love!” was all she found she could say.

  They kissed, a long and deep kiss, and it was if they flowed into each other. Her body yearned for his, and she could hear that his yearned for her. But he suddenly held her wrists and gently prised himself apart from her.

  “But we must press on if we are to escape,” he reminded her. “No doubt they are already in hot pursuit. We must stay ahead of them and find somewhere safe to lodge in Aberdon, while we wait for the crayer to arrive.”

  She murmured her assent and reluctantly gave him up. They gathered the reins of their horses and swung up onto their backs.

  * * *

  Gilbert knew that he had lost them as soon as they reached the path beyond the castle rampart.

  “They could have gone north to Peter’s Head, or south to Aberdon, or west into the mountains. They’ve had too great a start on us; any trace they left, we will not be able to pick up until morning light.”

  They returned to the castle. The whole household was awake and in a state of great excitement. As they rode into the yard, Margaret raced from the keep to greet them.

  “Elizabeth is gone,” she told Gilbert, without any preliminaries.

  “Elizabeth?” Gilbert gasped in disbelief before his features relaxed into a nod of realization. “She must be his accomplice in this escape.” He let out a great sigh and shook his head sorrowfully. “The stupid, stupid girl!”

  “We must resume the hunt,” Matthew urged with passion. “They cannot have gone far.”

  “Far enough.” Gilbert groaned. “And in which direction?”

  “Send out a troop in each direction,” Matthew said. “We can ride them down. We cannot let him win away with her.”

  Gilbert considered Matthew’s proposal for a few brief moments.

  “It would be to no end,” he concluded. “They would hear the sound of any pursuit and have time to melt from the road into the darkness of the surrounding countryside. It is only a few hours till daylight; we will wait until then.”

  Matthew moved to protest again, but Gilbert forestalled him by raising an authoritative hand.

  “That is my decision, Matthew. We will send a troop each to the ports at Peter’s Head and Aberdon at first light, and a third along Strathdee, which is the most likely route they would take through the mountains to reach the Comyn lands in the west. I only hope that the Earl of Mar, whose lands we will be encroaching, will not take offense at the latter. I must also send an envoy to Cionn Droma, to alert him to our troops and beg his indulgence. He may also put his people on the alert for the fugitives.”

  “What do you want us to do about Sanderson?” James asked.

  “Bring him here,” Gilbert replied with a growl.

  “He’s still dead-drunk and senseless, my Lord,” one of the sentries informed him.

  “Then throw him in the hole and let him sleep it off there. When he comes to, cut off his ears and throw him out of the castle. He is no longer part of this household.”

  With that, Gilbert turned and headed to the turret stair. The morrow would bring a long day.

  * * *

  “You will be merciful to Elizabeth, won’t you, my Lord?” Margaret said in a small voice, later, as they lay together in bed, sleepless and awaiting the blink of first light.

  Gilbert sighed.

  “God knows, I have shown great forbearance to the lassie, but this time she has gone too far. She has not just been complicit but active in the escape of a traitor. I have much fondness for the girl, and I know what she means to you. But I cannot be partial; she must be subject to the king’s justice, no more nor less than any other. She too will be brought back in chains and will be tried for her wrongdoing; I can do no other, nor should you ask me too.”

  He rolled over, and Margaret was faced by the impassiveness of his broad back.

  She knew that however the affair turned out, whether Elizabeth escaped with her lover or she was brought back to face the king’s justice, she had lost her.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Aberdon

  Dawn was just breaking over the horizon of the vast German Sea when Elizabeth and Duncan descended into the town of Aberdon. The rising sun glittered the surface of the ocean with myriad shimmering pinpricks of light, while the sky shifted from the indigo of night to a deep cerulean blue that heralded the arrival of another fine day.

  The town was just coming awake as they crossed Brig o’ Balgownie, which carried them across the Don. The fishermen were dragging their boats down the sands and launching them into the narrow estuary, while the artisans and merchants of King’s Street were opening the shutters of their workshops and warehouses to the first of the passing trade. Housewives and maids were emptying buckets of night-soil from the upper windows into the street, while dogs and ragged children trotted about their early morning business of finding some scraps on which to break their fast.

  Coming over the bridge, the couple turned left and walked their mounts along the southern bank of the river, past the line of larger seagoing vessels at berth along the wooden quays. There were boats of all shapes and sizes, from all the lands that fringed the German Sea, but no sign of the French crayer that was to take them to safety.

  “I did not dare to hope,” Duncan said. “The rendezvous was set for a few days hence, but it was possible that it had arrived a few days early.”

  “What are we going to do until it gets here?” Elizabeth asked. “I imagine Aberdon is one of the first places they will look, if they are looking for us, that is.”

  “Oh, they will be looking for us,” Duncan assured her, with a wry smile. “You can be certain of that. Your master is determined that I shall hang, and your mistress will be keen to get you back.”

  “So, what will we do?” Elizabeth repeated.

  Duncan let out a long sigh and looked up towards the tumble of pends and vennels.

  “We must find somewhere we can lay low until the Frenchman arrives.” He nodded in the direction in which he was looking. “The town is a warren of alleys and passageways. If we can find a friend with whom we can lodge, Hay’s men will never find us. The trick then will be to board the Frenchman without being detected.”

  “Which may be easier said than done.” Elizabeth bit her bottom lip. “If what you say is true and Sir Gilbert is so determined to apprehend us, I imagine the quayside will soon be swarming with spies and informers.”

  “Aye. But with the right disguises, it can be done. Come, we must find a bolt-hole before the hounds arrive.”

  They turned their horses away from the waterfront and started up a steep wynd that took them into the heart of the port. The rickety tenements rose precariously on both sides of the narrow thoroughfare, their upper stories almost meeting above their heads. After wending their way through the maze of daub and wattle walls for a few hundred yards, they spied the sign of the Seagait Inn.

  “Let us try here,” Duncan said. “At least we may get some victuals to break our fast.”

  Elizabeth suddenly realized that she was ravenously hungry and readily agreed. They dismounted and tethered their horses to a post that had been hammered into the hard-packed earth outside the inn for that very purpose and passed through the door.

  The room was dim after the bright morning sunshine that had sliced through the shadows of the narrow streets outside. The space was filled with rows of wooden tables, surrounded by chairs and stools, and the damp trampled straw from the previous day still littered the floor. A few customers sat at the tables, bent over cups of tippenny ale or bowls of brose. A wee lass of about eight years old hurried up to them.

  “Can I help ye?”

  Duncan smiled at the lass.

  “We would inquire about a room.”

  The lassie screwed up her nose.

  “Ye’ll have to see the mistress about that, and sh
e’s out the back in the meantime. Is there anything else I can get you? Something to sup?”

  “What can you offer us?” Duncan asked.

  “Brose, bannocks and cheese, parritch…”

  “What kind of brose?” Elizabeth asked.

  “Peasemeal or oatmeal. If you like, I can put in some nettle tops or kale…”

  “I’ll take a bowl of your peasemeal brose with kale. Mind and chop the kale up fine though.”