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

by Kenna Kendrick

  “Alright, since we’re early, let’s hunt oot a bottle o’ whiskey.”

  Declan looked up at the sky. It was still gray with twilight. The moon hardly made it over the trees. “I’d rather not,” he said.

  “Och, come on, it’s the least ye can do fer me!”

  Declan looked at Angus. Angus was cheerful as always. Something about the twinkle in his eyes reminded Declan of how indebted he was to the man. Without him, the trip would have taken longer and driven him to the brink of insanity. Angus’s companionship was worth more than he would have thought. He made the long days and nights and suffering bearable.

  “All righ’, but if we don’ find anythin’ in the hour, we head to the keep.”

  “Aye, aye, Chief Declan!” Angus pumped a fist in the air and kicked his horse into a light trot.

  Declan laughed. It did not take them long to find a bottle. The first man they passed was willing to sell his.

  “No way, yer tryin’ tae rob me!” Angus scowled.

  “Tha’s the price, ain’t sellin’ it fer less an’ ye’ll drive hard tae fin’ another bottle within a day’s ride.”

  “Right bastard, ye are.” Angus reluctantly let his coins fall into the man’s hand.

  Declan laughed as Angus tore the stopper from the bottle with his teeth. The burly man chugged a few mouthfuls before passing it to Declan, who lifted his hand in refusal.

  “We may have tae fight tonight.”

  “Aye, all the more reason tae put fire in yer belly!” He pushed his chest out before offering it again.

  Declan caved in, taking a modest swallow. He coughed on the smoky spirit and passed the bottle back to Angus. The moon was nearing the center of the sky. Declan was eager to move on and wait for Rosalie’s beacon.

  They were extra cautious moving through the woods. Declan’s uneasiness increased as they approached the keep. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. They stationed themselves close to where he last saw Rosalie. The last thing he wanted was for someone from the Keep to spot them from the front door. From their position, they could not see the entrance, but they had a good view of both Rosalie’s window and the window of the study from which she spotted Declan earlier.

  “Maybe we should jus’ go now.”

  “Ye promised the lass. Give her time,” Angus nursed his bottle. “The las’ thing ye want is tae start with ‘er havin’ somethin’ tae get on ye abou’. Trust me,” he burped, “There’ll be plenty fer her tae be mad at later down the road; best give ‘er what she wants as long as ye can.”

  “She’s no’ like tha’.” Declan could not imagine Rosalie ever talking to him the way Aggie barked at Angus.

  “Aye, fer now,” Angus laughed. His cheeks were red from the whiskey.

  “Sh.” Declan turned his head sharply, straining to hear. “Did ye hear tha’?”

  “Nay.” Angus ran his back up, and down the tree he rested on, scratching an invisible itch.

  Declan could have sworn he heard something, and it put him even more on edge. There is nothing he wanted more than to break into the keep and sweep Rosalie away under darkness. He stared at her window, searching for a sign of her presence. He had imagined that she would at least wave to him, signaling her safety, even if she were not ready to flee.

  The hours passed, and there was no sign of his love. Angus fell asleep where he sat. Declan did not wake him, even long after the agreed time frame for a signal. Each passing minute left him more discouraged than before. Nothing about the keep or the night felt right to him. It pained him to give up finally.

  He woke Angus. “Let’s go.”

  Angus looked around at the early dawn. “Cuttin’ it close, are we?”

  “Aye.” Declan felt sullen, and the last thing he wanted to do was talk to anyone.

  “Where should we go?”

  “We can make a fire at tha’ rock outcropping we passed on the ride in. We should be concealed from the road there.”

  Angus picked up on Declan’s mood and left him alone. They rode in silence, set up camp, and made a modest meal of herbs and oats. It was difficult for Declan to fall asleep. He knew he needed his strength for the next night. Part of him doubted Rosalie would ever leave the keep. It killed him to think she might choose to stay with them. After such a long journey, the thought of turning around without her seemed unthinkable.

  Declan managed to sleep through nightmares he couldn’t remember. When he awoke, Angus was already covering the fire with stones and soil. The stars peeked out from velvet cover; their concentric patterns blotted out by patches of wispy clouds.

  Again they rode in silence. Declan could feel something was not right. He kept thinking about the empty window. A part of him knew that something was wrong to keep her from at least waving to him or looking out to try and spot him. He was eager to get to the keep.

  When they arrived, a candle flickered in her window. Declan looked up at the sky. There were hours still before their agreed-upon time, and his heart skipped a beat in fear. How long did it burn there for him? How long had she waited for him to save her?

  “What’s the plan?” Angus asked, looking the grounds over.

  “I think it best I go in alone. An’ if I don’ return, ye take tha’ door o’er there an’ find me.”

  “I dinnae like it. I think we should stick together.”

  A scream, as clear as day, cut out across the grounds and sent chills down the men’s spines. Their half-formed plans fell to the wayside. Both men, abandoning their horses tethered to the trees, bounded across the landscaped expanse separating them from the keep.

  The scrape of steel scraping against their hilts rang out, sharp and cold. The moonlight glinted off their blades, the smallest silver twinkle in the darkness. Up above, they could hear cries of pain, calling out in bursts. The doors were unmanned, the stone halls empty and grim. The staff and residents hid in their rooms, trying to ignore the screams.

  It was not difficult for them to find their way through the keep. The sound echoed down from above. Only once did they need to backtrack before finding the right staircase leading up to the tower. Declan and Angus flanked either side of the door. They looked at one another, preparing themselves for the unknown.

  Declan felt anger and the primitive rush of the warrior course through him. In the seconds before pushing open the door, he mentally prepared himself to expect a group of assailants to battle through. Angus nodded as the door kicked open with a mighty bang. Its sound echoing through the empty halls.

  Lady Catherine stood with a switch in hand. Declan looked around the room. Another branch lay broken and cast aside. Water, tinged pink with blood, wetted the stones. Rosalie laid naked, hair wet, and torn dress cast away in the center of the room. Her body bled from the flogging.

  Declan was taken aback to find a woman capable of such cruelty. It caused his heart to stall to see his dear laying there. Years of chivalry stayed his hand, hesitant to hit a woman. Anger and frustration coursed through him. Lady Catherine screamed at the top of her lungs, breaking the spell of horror binding the two intruders. Declan rushed for Rosalie, ignoring the stinging lashes Lady Catherine cut into his thick arms.

  “Robbers! Demons!” The woman’s eyes were aflame with manic passion, her actions justified by divine intention.

  “That’s enough o’ that,” Angus gripped her thin wrist in one of his strong fists and twisted until she released the stick from her hand.

  “Get off o’ me! Edward,” she screamed, facing the window cut out. She tried her best to pull away from Angus, “Edward! Help! Help! They’re tryin’ tae rape us!”

  Angus’s patience was wearing thin. Her accusations and cruelty overpowered his sense of respect for the fairer sex. With the pressure placed on the woman’s wrist, he pushed her down to the ground. Fear widened her eyes.

  “I ain’t gonna rape ye, ye crazy hag! Shut yer trap.”

  Declan covered Rosalie with his cloak. As he reached her, she passed out from the p
ain. Her eyes fluttered open for a moment, and he could see the detached, delirious glaze over her eyes. The sight of her broke his heart. Repulsive reprimands coursed through his mind for leaving here.

  “It’s all me fault,” he whispered, the words hitching in his throat.

  Instead of silencing, Lady Catherine doubled her screaming efforts. A high-pitched, shrill scream cut through the castle. Angus and Declan could hear the footsteps of men stampeding up the tower stairs.

  “God’s teeth, she’s a banshee, no’ a woman.”

  Any restraint Angus felt disappeared with the pressure of an impending sword fight. He raised his fist and clocked the woman on the head with the hilt. The woman slumped against the stone wall, the swift blow rendering her unconscious.

  Declan scooped Rosalie into his arms. She was limp, still not roused. Despite the urgency of the situation, he was gentle and cautious of touching her back. Declan slung her over his shoulder, gripping her cloak bound thighs tight to his chest.

  “Ye ready?” Angus growled.

  “Aye!”

  The two men screamed at the top of their lungs and rushed out into the hall. Edward and a couple of his working hands, both old with age, crowded the steps. Their breath was short, and sweat beaded their surprised and frightened brows. Only Edward had a sword. The other two were armed only with garden tools and looked about to retreat in the face of the fearsome Highlanders.

  Edward struck out at Angus. “Attack them! Forward, men! Defend your Lady an’ Keep!”

  Even with the blood boiling in Declan’s ears, it was clear for him to see these men were forced to fight. Edward and Angus locked blades. Declan side-stepped as Angus pushed his weight behind his sword, twisting Edward and pushing him back into the room. With a swift kick, he pushed the old man into the tower.

  “Catherine!”

  Edward’s voice broke. He ran to run his sword through Angus, but Declan was a step ahead of them both. He kicked the thick door closed. Angus did not miss a beat and slid the lock in place as Edward beat furiously against the door.

  “Unlock me! How dare you come into my home, my keep! Barbarians! Brutes!” And then the sound of soft sobs. “Catherine,” he whimpered. “My wife.”

  The two old men summoned to fight alongside Edward shook in the stair. Angus stood to his full height, pushing his barrel-like chest out, squaring his shoulders to show their full strength. He could see their hands tremble. They were farmers, not warriors, beaten down and oppressed by their laird and lady.

  Angus raised his sword and saw the man closest to him cower, prepared for the deadly blow. The flat of his blade struck stone. A sharp ring cut out.

  “Scream,” he whispered.

  The man let out a confused, weak scream. Angus sighed and shook his head. He raised his hand palm face-up, gesturing for more. Declan could not help but laugh at the sight of the old men trying to create convincing cries as Angus created the sounds of battle.

  “Ye send auld men to battle the mighty Angus!” he screamed out.

  Edward’s voice was accompanied by Catherine’s frantic shouts. “Fight them!”

  “They’re too strong for us! I cannae! OCH!” the man in front of Angus called in his frail voice, standing safe within the stair’s arch.

  Angus looked around. There was a pail next to the door, no doubt used as a chamberpot. He motioned for the men to stand aside and tossed the bucket down the stairs, banging and rattling as it rolled away.

  The old men cried. “What was that? Edward, do something! I demand ye release us!”

  Angus motioned for the men to follow him downstairs. When safe from the ears of the laird and lady, he turned to them and smiled. They were no longer scared of Angus, but it was easy to see the fear of their laird in their eyes.

  “Lay here like you were pushed down the steps. We’ll send someone this way to bear witness. Thank ye for yer help.”

  One of the men nodded. “She’s a sweet lass.” His brows furrowed, “Only one tae treat us like humans, ye ken. Ma prayers are with ye.” Then he fell to the ground, sprawling his legs out in a dramatic fashion.

  Declan and Angus tore through the halls, working their way back to the open grounds. They turned down one of the narrow halls, having one more level to descend. They could hear the sound of people running towards them, right around the corner. They stopped, looking behind them. There was little time. There was no telling how long the tower door would hold against Edward and Catherine’s fury. They were trapped between the tower and the oncoming mob.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Gale turned around the corner, Fiona, her mother, and a few other servants following behind. They were unarmed, seeking safety rather than battle.

  For a moment, they all stood frozen: the two men carrying Rosalie on one end of the hall, and Gale with the women at the top of the staircase on the other end. Their eyes were wide, their breath shaking. The older woman clutched a torch; her fingers blanched white.

  “Declan?” Gale asked.

  Declan nodded, lowering his sword.

  “Is,” Gale swallowed, “Is she alright?”

  The emotion Declan calmed to stay focus now rose in his cheeks. He could feel it heat him and dry his mouth. “I dinnae ken.” He could feel his eyes wet with regret and fear.

  “An’ my father?” Her voice shook, as if afraid to find him slain or injured.

  “They’re fine,” Declan growled. “More than they deserve. Locked up in tha’ damned tower where they tortured Rosalie.”

  Gale nodded. “Ye should go.”

  The young blond girl stepped aside. The other women pressed themselves to the walls to make way for the escaping party. Fiona and her mother looked at Gale with surprise as she let the two men squeeze past them and get away.

  “Thank ye,” Declan said.

  “Ye dinnae have much time. Get now. I’ll wait ten minutes or so ‘fore lettin’ them out.”

  “Yer an angel,” Angus said.

  Gale’s cheeks flushed bright pink. Never had anyone called her such a kind and lovely thing. It changed something in her. Still, she maintained the composure of a well-bred lady, standing tall with authority.

  “On yer way now,” she nodded.

  The two men didn’t wait for her to repeat herself and ran out of the keep. The cold air felt liberating against their hot skin. The horses brayed at the sight of them running forward. Declan struggled to secure Rosalie in a way that would keep her descent and not aggravate her wounds.

  There was no time for perfection. He could only hope that her position didn’t make anything worse. Within seconds, they tore through the forest. Branches clawed at them in their rush, but neither men paid no heed to their scrapes.

  They broke through the tree line when the howls of hunting dogs filled the air. Edward was released from his temporary prison and hot in pursuit. Declan heard Rosalie groan.

  “Don’t move, lassie,” he called.

  The young maiden whimpered and squirmed, slung over the horse like a saddlebag, cradled in Declan’s lap. She tried to push herself up from the galloping horse, only to collapse back down. Declan could feel her sobbing. He tried his best to comfort her while maintaining their fleeing pace.

  “It’ll all be over soon. Bear with me, my darlin’.”

  The barking dogs were closing in on them. Dawn broke, and as they passed the first farms ringing around the Keep. Farmer’s studied them from a distance. Soon, they would join Edward’s party. Declan screamed for his horse to ride faster, afraid they would mistake Rosalie’s form for a kidnap victim.

  They rode as hard as they could until the horses could take it no longer. The dogs were left far behind, but they knew they would smell out their scent. Depending on the story Edward told, they knew he would follow with a posse set on hanging them. They needed to make it as far as they could before stopping.

  “Declan,” Rosalie cried, “I cannae!” She pleaded, “It hurts.”

  He looked to Angus. Angus scanned th
e countryside and turned his horse to a steep mountainous trail headed north-east. Declan followed him.

  “There’s a stream ahead. We may be able to cover our scent for a while if we cross.”

  Declan nodded. “Hol’ in there, Rosie,” he whispered, touching her matted curls to comfort her.

  They found the stream without issue and forged through a narrow portion. They walked the horses back south along the muddied banks for an hour in an attempt to confuse the hunting dogs. They found a game trail shooting off North from the stream and took the path, looking for a place to make camp.