Highlander’s Gypsy Lass (Highlander's 0f Clan Macgregor Book 1)

by Kenna Kendrick

  Alexander grabbed the horse’s reins. “Ye ain’t gonna follow her trail in this weather. Least not far. You’ve better chances o’ waitin’ ‘til mornin’ when we hae more information an’ light.”

  There was wisdom in this. Declan looked out at the forest, watching the clouds blow in from over the mountains, creating an impenetrable cover and knowing he was helpless for the time tormented Declan. If only he had shown up a few minutes earlier, he would have known what happened and been able to stop it.

  “Help me wi’ the fire.” Alexander held an ax out for Declan.

  Declan reached out his hand, but hesitated, “How do ye ken he don’ have her?”

  Alexander sighed and sat down on one of the damp stumps. “He’s with another woman.”

  “O’ course he is.”

  Declan growled and tore the ax from the old man. A slight pang of guilt rippled through him for treating an elder in such a manner. He knew the man had no part in this, and could see the shame on his face at knowing what kind of character his nephew was. The Highlander’s fury turned to the logs. His powerful strikes split them as if they were brittle twigs. With each swing of the ax, he felt his mind clear. In many ways, Enoch’s innocence in this matter was worse. It was not just knowing Rosalie was missing by other means. It was not having someone to target his anger toward. Still, his face remained a target of Declan’s scorn.

  Alexander waited until Declan threw the logs into the wet pit to speak. “Anna came tae us immediately. Enoch is bein’ fetched, an’ the others should be here soon with whatever information they have.”

  The old man remained calm, but Declan sensed the fear in his words. Declan arranged the kindling and a ball of dry wool he kept in his flint kit to start a blaze hot enough to stave off the rain. He couldn’t understand who would want to hurt Rosalie other than Enoch. Declan was no fool; he knew cruel and terrible people existed, but here, so close to his childhood home? It sickened him, knowing he most likely knew whoever had a hand to play in this.

  “Will ye go after her, then?” Alexander asked.

  The young man’s hands still trembled, but his mind had calmed enough to reason. Still, he spat, “Will anyone else?”

  He eyed the old man and immediately regretted his words. Those that cared were too old to tear out in pursuit. They were as helpless as Declan. He saw what he felt reflected in Alexander’s eyes.

  It blanketed the flaming urgency boiling within him and washed him down to a calm state. “Aye, I’ll go after her.”

  Both men perked up as they heard the approach of horses. It was difficult for Declan to stand still. All he wanted was to know Rosalie was safe. He could tell by the look in old Magda’s eyes that this wasn’t the case. The woman cut through the mud as fast as she could. Declan held his breath, dying to know what they’d discovered.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Rosalie gave up fighting when they bound her and placed a sack over her head. She assumed it was to prevent her from seeing where they headed. Her wrists ached beneath the rope cutting into her flesh. By the way she bounced and jostled, it was clear they were speeding away in a wagon.

  The panic Rosalie felt in her chest soon gave way in exhaustion as hope slipped for her. It was difficult to tell how long they rode on in the dark silence. Dismay, hunger, and thirst wracked her body. She knew there was no one to come after her. Magda would worry, but she was too old and frail to make a journey, especially with the weather growing colder. She cried until her tears dried.

  After what seemed like an eternity, she sensed the wagon coming to a stop. Her ears perked up as she heard a door open, followed by a cold draft. The rain roared outside the open door.

  “I dinnae ken why you’re doin’ this!” a girl exclaimed.

  Rosalie recognized the voice. Her throat burned from thirst. She swallowed, trying to create enough moisture to speak. “Gale?” Her voice trembled. “Is tha’ ye?”

  “Now ye’ve done it.” A woman scolded. “Rosalie?”

  The hood was pulled from Rosalie’s face. She blinked away the darkness and took in a wagon lit only by a single candle. Gale and her mother, Lady Catherine, stared at her. Confusion washed over Rosalie. She had no idea what was going on. There was relief, as well, seeing it was not just her husband who held her captive.

  Rosalie felt tears burning at her eyes once again. “Why are ye doin’ this?” she cried.

  “Shh, shh, child.” Lady Catherine reached out to touch Rosalie’s mussed hair. The young woman pulled back as much as she could, hate filling her eyes. Catherine withdrew her hand as if she were a dog about to bite.

  Gale looked hurt—annoyed, but hurt. Her cheeks burned red as she avoided Rosalie’s intense gaze.

  Lady Catherine’s face scrunched up as if it pained her to see Rosalie in such a manner. There was disappointment there too, which further befuddled the traveler. “You’re frightened.”

  “O’ course she’s frightened, Mother!” Gale snapped, crossing her arms, “This is madness!”

  “Wha’ is going on?” Rosalie’s panic was resurging through her body. None of it made any sense. “I dinnae ha’ any money.”

  “We don’t want your money,” The Lady smiled. It was warm and affectionate, entirely out of place, considering the circumstances. “We want to take you home.”

  “Ma home is back there.” the wagon lurched as the horses started once more. Gale stumbled with the new motion. The tears overwhelmed Rosalie as she thought of how worried Anna and Magda were. They might even think she just ran away and abandoned them.

  “You’re confused.” The smile slipped from the woman’s face.

  “Damn right ah’m confused! Ye kidnapped me!”

  The woman sucked in air at the cursing. Gale looked at her mother as if gauging her reaction to the foul language. The woman’s eyes widened, shocked and offended, but relaxed as if understanding reached her.

  “Le’ me tell ye a story, child, so ye understand.”

  Rosalie pursed her lips, her forehead wrinkled; there was nothing to say. She was angry, resentful, and afraid—the power of the emotions she felt overwhelming and beyond words. The woman before her looked mad, her graying red hair peeling away from her face in coarse random curls.

  “This may come as a shock to you, but I’m your mother, and this is your sister Gale.”

  Rosalie’s mouth dropped. She looked at Gale, but Gale’s eyes cast down to the floor. Her cheeks were bright pink in shame for her mother.

  “You’re crazy!”

  “Listen.” The woman shook her head and reached her hand out to touch Rosalie’s knee, and the girl could not pull away… disgust roiling in her gut. “Years ago, I had a child. She had hair like strawberries,” the woman gushed, “and that child was stolen from me—by gypsies.” Darkness washed over her features, and Rosalie could see with that one look that she needed to be careful. As meek and fragile as this woman seemed, her instability could escalate into violence. “I know, it sounds crazy, an’ must be a lot fer you to take in, but I’m tellin’ you—you’re my daughter. Cannae ye feel it?” The woman touched her heart and looked eager for Rosalie to return the sentiment.

  Rosalie had no words. It was too much. She thought of Magda, and how reluctant she had been to tell Rosalie about her parents. The story of Magda losing her son right before adopting Rosalie came into her mind. She knew the loss of a child sometimes drove people to act out in insane ways, but she just couldn’t imagine Magda kidnapping her.

  Rosalie looked at the woman. There was a resemblance, she supposed—the hair color, the green eyes—but it was still difficult to swallow that this was happening. Rosalie didn’t know what to say to the woman.

  “If I am your daughter, why take me like this? Why bind and blindfold me?”

  The woman looked down at her fingers, clasped in her lap. She sat in the only chair in the place. Rosalie wondered if the lack of furniture meant they lived near Kilchurn.

  “I kenned ye wouldn’t believe us. I d
idn’t ken if the gypsies had ye enchanted or not.”

  This angered Rosalie more than anything she heard thus far. She could see how the woman could hope she was her daughter. Despite her love for Magda and the disbelief she felt at hearing Magda accused of kidnapping her, a part of her felt excited and curious about possibly having a family: a real family where she could belong. However, the concept of being enchanted or tricked by the family who’d raised her was ludicrous. She bit at the inside of her lips, afraid if she spoke, she’d invoke wrath from her captors.

  “Ye don’t have any proof o’ this.” Rosalie could hear Gale’s voice shake and see the glaze form over her eyes.

  “Look at her, Gale! She’s yer sister, ye spoilt thing. By the heavens, I ken it. Ye an’ yer father can doubt all ye want, but I can feel it in my bones,” the woman’s eyes were wild, and Rosalie feared she would strike Gale, “A mother kens her children anywhere.” She turned her gaze back to Rosalie, her eyes overflowing with joy. “Please, believe me, or at least try to. Yer days amongst those thieves,” the tone was overwhelmed with disgust and loathing, “and heathens are over. Yer safe now, with us.” She smiled.

  Rosalie didn’t know what to do. She looked between the two of them. Gale, angry with her mother, clearly pitied Rosalie. Rosalie felt as if she understood the girl a little more with this revelation. The wanton acts of cruelty stemming from being cast in the shadow of a glorified ghost and battling at home with a grieving mother edging on madness.

  They looked at Rosalie as if they expected something from her. She couldn’t give the woman what she wanted. She had no idea what the truth was, and honestly just wished to remain safe until she could get back to Magda and confront her herself. If Magda did do it, there must be an explanation more than the loss of her family. Maybe Rosalie’s real family was abusive and cruel.

  “May I have some water?”

  The woman blinked as if the thought never occurred to her that Rosalie could be uncomfortable, “O’ course. Gale.”

  Gale rummaged in the small pile of their belongings and found a skin. The girl tipped the jug into Rosalie’s mouth. The cold water soothed her throat. Her body still ached, and with one pain gone, the others seemed to intensify.

  “Can ye untie me?” Rosalie wiggled her shoulders, trying to gesture to the tight binds.

  The woman looked sad as if it hurt her, which annoyed Rosalie. She wasn’t the one bound in the back of a wagon. “No, I’m sorry, dear,” Rosalie cringed as the woman touched her face, this time unable to avoid it, “until I ken yer not goin’ tae run from us, I cannae. We’ll be home in a few days.”

  “A few days?” Rosalie gaped, “Yer goin’ to let me…” her voice shook as she tried to think of the best way to approach the situation. “Your daughter?” It tasted blasphemous, “

  Rosalie could see the woman melt a little and felt relief. If she played her cards right, maybe they would untie her, and she could get away with only a day or two’s walk home. Even then, without food rations or blankets or a weapon, the way would be treacherous. Rosalie shivered, and not from the cold.

  “No’ all day. Jus’ at night.”

  “What about now?”

  Rosalie wondered if she could take the women and escape from the wagon. It was a tight space. A part of her was curious as well. Although she longed to return to Magda and Anna and—her heart sank—Declan, she was overwhelmed to see what this life and people were all about. If they were her family, beating them and running away was hardly a good introduction. Not only that but if she failed, there was no way she was going to be allowed out of binds.

  The woman smiled at her as if it would make it all better. “Tomorrow, when I ken ye willnae find yer way back through the mountains.”

  That reasoning alone frightened her. This woman was not going to let Rosalie go. She would need to either find undeniable proof that they were not related or form a crafty escape. Her thoughts turned to Edward, the man with the sad eyes, who’d captured her.

  “What does yer husband think o’ all this?” Rosalie asked.

  The woman looked surprised, and then embarrassed, “Like my daughter, he’s uncertain.”

  “Uncertain?” Gale gasped. “Mama, yer scaring the both o’ us.”

  Rosalie was quick to draw the attention of Gale. The look rushing over Lady Catherine was dark and dangerous, “If he’s uncertain, why’d he help take me?”

  The woman looked at her a moment. Her mouth pressed into a flat line. “Hope.”

  There was nothing for her to say, and soon, the two women grew tired of trying to talk to her. The Lady Catherine chattered on for a while longer about the home they were taking Rosalie to. She assured Rosalie that in a few days, she would feel better about all of this. She only needed time.

  Rosalie doubted any of that. She could never forget Magda and Anna and the love they bore for her. Peace was impossible until she could sort out the truth for sure.

  “I am sorry again for keepin’ ye tied up so,” the woman patted Rosalie’s knee, then started to roll out beds for her and Gale.

  It angered Rosalie to see them curl up and find sleep. Yet she was grateful to have the silence to think all of it over. Her head swam with the information, and once silence overtook the wagon, save for their heavy breathing, her thoughts turned over to Declan. Her heart yearned for him. She feared he thought she’d stood him up and knew, for this reason, he would doubtless come after her.

  Foolish lass. Rosalie shook away any hopes of Declan saving her. Even if he discovered the truth of her whereabouts, why would he abandon his people and harvest to run after some girl he knew such a short time? It was a mad fancy.

  That night seemed to stretch on forever. Edward drove the horses until dawn. By the time the other two awoke, Rosalie decided the best move on her part was to play along until she could find a means of escape. There were too many dangers to risk leaving on foot. The best chance of surviving was to wait until she could get her bearings and find a horse and supplies.

  Over the next days, Rosalie suffered through Lady Margaret’s long rants. She was cruel towards Gale. No wonder her daughter had become such a bully. They untied her during the day, and although Rosalie was tempted to rush past them and leap from the wagon multiple times, something stayed her. She told herself it was logic and preservation, but in her heart, she knew it was a desire to discover more about who she was. If this were her family, it would change everything.

  One of the worst thoughts that kept coming back to Rosalie was that by the time she could get home, winter would most likely be upon them. Would her family still be camped by the river? Or would Alexander move on without her, stealing away any opportunity of saying goodbye? Although she tried to remain composed in front of the women, she found herself tearing up regularly.

  It was not days that they rode, but weeks. Despite how hard it was for Rosalie to keep time, she knew it was longer than the lady led her to believe. She did not know if they were north or south of Kilchurn. The hopes of anyone finding her, even if they set out, were grim. She was on her own.

  Lady Catherine grew excited. “We’re almost home!”

  “Thank god,” Gale muttered under her breath.

  “Ye will love it, Rosalie. I have kept yer room the same all these years. I jus’ kenned one day we’d fin’ you.”

  “Are ye serious?” Rosalie’s face distorted. For well over a decade and a half, this woman kept a room untouched. Rosalie had to admit to herself that Lady Catherine at least cared for her children. That was something.

  “Unfortunately,” Gale sighed.

  The woman laughed and clapped her hands together in delight. “Everyone will be so happy an’ surprised. As soon as we get home, I’ll hae the cooks prepare us somethin’ marvelous. An’ we’ll get ye out o’ those wretched clothes. An’ yer sister can show ye around the keep.”

  Rosalie looked at her gown. It was one of her favorites, and most comfortable. Magda had made it for her. It made her sick to even
think about the possibilities of Magda. If this was her real family, it changed everything she ever imagined and knew. It changed her future entirely.

  The wagon came to a stop with a loud, “Whoa,” from Edward. Rosalie, took note he hardly slept the entire trip and could not help but wonder what the man thought through all of this.

  The door to the wagon swung open. Rosalie’s legs were stiff and shaky from spending her nights bound and her days sitting in the wagon. She blinked at the sun setting over the mountains. After spending so much time in the windowless wagon, the light hurt her. She took a deep breath to steady her nerves as she looked out at what Lady Catherine insisted was her new home.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Declan turned from Hugh. He could see the doubt in his elder’s face. The brawny Highlander pulled at the straps of his saddle, testing to make sure his supplies were secure.