A Pledge of Passion to the Highlander

by Maddie MacKenna

  “Are ye about to get on yer way, then?” asked Angdaigh slowly, frowning. “I think it is a mistake, lady. Ye should stay here until it is safe to journey…”

  Roseann shook her head firmly. “I have little choice, Angdaigh. I must continue…”

  Suddenly, there was screaming. People were running in every direction. Roseann stared at Angdaigh, so shocked she couldn’t find her voice. For the love of God, what was going on?

  “Quick!” screamed Angdaigh. “Follow me!”

  Roseann didn’t hesitate. She ran after the stable boy, who was clutching his sweetheart’s hand tightly in his own. Her heart was thumping so loudly in her chest, and she could barely hear anything else. But over the wild beating of her heart, she eventually heard the loud squawking of upended chickens, and the crash of barrels tipping over, smashing to the ground.

  She was running, ducking and diving between stalls, staring at the terrified faces of the villagers. Ahead of her, Angdaigh didn’t pause, not even for an instant.

  And then, she saw them. She saw why the villagers were screaming in terror.

  A group of English soldiers, wearing the uniform of King Edward’s army, were striding into the village square, their swords were drawn and raised. Their faces were twisted into a rictus of hate.

  Dear Lord, thought Roseann desperately. Please, please, save us.

  27

  Domhnall stood in the doorway, gazing at the assembled party in the banquet hall. The Laird of Lios was already seated to the left of the main chair at the head of the long table, and Lady Sineag was seated to his side. Father and daughter had their heads close together, whispering intently to each other.

  He took a deep breath. He didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to spend the evening talking to any of them. What he wanted to do was be out on the road, scouring the countryside, searching again for Roseann. He could barely think of anything else.

  Slowly, he walked to his chair at the head of the table and sat down. Everyone gazed at him for a moment before resuming their conversations. He had no doubt that one of the topics of conversation was the mysterious disappearance of the English tutor.

  He gritted his teeth, picking up his goblet. Mairead had told him that the word was out, now, that Roseann had been an English spy all along. Why else had she disappeared so suddenly, in the middle of the night without informing anyone?

  He took a deep slug of the mead, but it tasted so sour in his mouth, he could barely stop himself from spitting it back into the goblet.

  She would not have left me, without telling me, he thought desperately. She would not. She could not.

  And yet, he was forced to admit to himself that it seemed that was exactly what she had done.

  When Mairead had first told him, his mind had strayed to abduction or even foul play. Had someone taken her from her bed? Was she being held hostage somewhere, or worse yet, lying dead in a ditch, miles from the castle?

  But then Mairead had told him that a horse was missing, too. That a horse had been taken from the stables and with it a saddle. It seemed that Roseann had taken the horse and ridden away from Coirecrag in the dead of night. The guards on the castle walls had not seen her. She had carefully planned her escape route so that he would not be informed.

  He gripped the goblet tightly. Dear God, what had driven her to steal a horse and ride off into the night alone? Did she really think that she couldn’t tell him that she didn’t want to be here any longer? Or worse yet, that he would force her to stay by his side?

  He had sent out five riders to look for her in every direction. He had even taken time out from the important talks to search for her himself.

  He had found himself heading towards the loch, where the ruins of old St. Peter’s kirk stood. He didn’t know why. It was as if some strong instinct was leading him there, to where he had taken her on the moor. To where he had made love to her and finally told her everything that was in his heart.

  He had wandered the ruins, staring dismally out over the waters.

  “Roseann!” he had called desperately. “Where are you, my love?”

  But all had been still. All that he could hear was the wind howling through the ruins, and the soft hiss of the water, lapping against the land.

  There had been no answer. She wasn’t there. She wasn’t anywhere. She had disappeared, vanishing into the night, like fog…

  “Laird.” Lady Sineag was staring at him expectantly.

  He jumped slightly. “I am sorry, lady. Ye said somethin’?”

  She smiled. “Ye seem a thousand miles away, Laird. Is there somethin’ on yer mind, other than Howard and his renegades?” She paused. “I have heard talk that yer brother’s tutor suddenly disappeared. A bit of a shock that she took off in the night like that, without tellin’ anyone.”

  Domhnall gripped the goblet tighter. “Aye. I dinnae ken what has gone on. I am still not convinced the lady was not abducted.”

  Lady Sineag’s smile widened. “I think it unlikely, Laird. A horse was taken as well! It seems the lady needed to disappear urgently. I wonder why?”

  He gazed at her steadily. “I dinnae ken.”

  Lady Sineag picked up her own goblet. “There is talk within yer castle that the lady is an English spy. That she works for Howard and is now travelin’ to his camp, to inform him of yer plans…”

  Domhnall took a deep, ragged breath. “The lady is no spy. I vouch for her! If she felt she had to leave so suddenly, then it was for other reasons. Perhaps she had word from her family in England.”

  “Perhaps,” said Lady Sineag, taking a sip of her mead. “Still, ye cannae blame folk for talkin’, can ye? She vanishes just when all this is happenin’. I dinnae believe in coincidence.”

  Domhnall’s face darkened. He didn’t believe in coincidence, either. Roseann had vanished abruptly, just at the very time that Howard was breathing down their necks.

  No, he thought desperately. She can’t be a spy!

  But the poisonous thought had entered his brain, now, and he couldn’t dislodge it. Had she been playing him all along? Had she pretended to love him in order to gain his trust and get inside information?

  He gripped the goblet so tightly he could feel the metal digging into his flesh. Dear God, had he fallen into a honey trap?

  After a fitful night’s sleep, he awoke the next day to the sound of activity in the courtyard. He got up, confused, walked to the window to see what the commotion was.

  The Laird of Lios was astride his horse, next to a carriage. In front of his astonished eyes, Lady Sineag walked towards it, giving instructions to the driver. Her trunks were hoisted onto the back of it.

  He cursed under his breath. What on earth was happening?

  He dressed quickly, running down the staircase, and into the courtyard. Lady Sineag turned, staring at him.

  “Laird!” she breathed, smiling. “Oh, thank the Lord that ye have awoken, so that we can take farewell of ye!”

  He frowned, walking towards them. Crannach stared down at him from atop his horse impassively.

  “I dinnae understand,” he said slowly, staring from one to the other. “What are ye doin’? Where are ye goin’?”

  “Skirmishes along our borderlands,” said Crannach curtly. “I was informed by urgent messenger late last night. I must return to see to it, and my daughter is eager to return to the castle to confer with her mother about the wedding arrangements.”

  Domhnall gaped at him. “But ye must stay! Ye have promised to help with Howard!”

  The older man’s face tightened. “And so I shall. We have it in writin’, do we not? The men that I have requisitioned to ye will arrive, just as planned. They should be here within a day.” He paused. “I shall return myself, once I have dealt with this other matter. My hands are tied, MacBeathag.”

  Domhnall kept staring at him, at a loss for words. It was all so sudden his head was reeling.

  “Thank ye for yer hospitality,” said the man tightly. “And for how wel
l ye have treated my daughter while she has been under yer roof. But we must away now. It is urgent…”

  Domhnall nodded slowly. His mind was spinning with a hundred questions, but Crannach was determined, and there was no way he could stop the Laird of Lios from leaving, other than to physically restrain him.

  He stared at the man atop the horse steadily. “I have yer word that yer men are on their way?”

  A flash of irritation crossed Crannach’s face. “Of course ye do! I am to be yer father-in-law, ye ken? I wouldnae promise somethin’ that I will nae deliver. My word is my bond, and besides that, we have it in writin’, as well.” He paused. “Are ye satisfied now, Laird?”

  Domhnall sighed deeply. It was all so sudden. Did the man really have to leave to deal with a border skirmish? Surely he had trusted men that could deal with the matter in his place?

  He gritted his teeth. His hands were tied again.

  He nodded slowly. “Have a good journey, then. And I shall see ye as soon as ye have dealt with yer matter.”

  Crannach nodded. Without another word, he turned to his daughter. “My dear, ye need to get into the carriage. We cannot tarry any longer.”

  “Of course, Faither,” she said.

  She turned to Domhnall. “Until we meet again, Laird!”

  “Until we meet again,” he repeated. Stiffly, he approached her, taking her hand and kissing it. “I wish ye a safe journey, lady.”

  She dimpled into smiles. “Ye can do better than that, can ye not, Laird? I am to be yer wife, after all.” She gazed at him expectantly.

  He sighed, then leaned down, intending to kiss her on the cheek. At the last moment, she turned her head quickly, so that he found her lips instead.

  She clung to him, moving her lips beneath his. He broke away, staring down at her.

  “Enough of that,” grinned Crannach. “There will be time enough for all of that business after ye are wed! Although it warms my heart to see that such affection has grown between the two of ye.”

  Lady Sineag laughed, tossing her auburn hair back. “I cannae wait for ye to make me yer legal wife, Laird.” Without another word, she climbed into the carriage. Within minutes, they were away, thundering through the courtyard and out the castle gates.

  Domhnall stared after the retinue until they were mere specks in the distance. Slowly, he turned back towards the castle and feeling despondent.

  Roseann was missing. She might just be an English spy. And he was still as far away from dealing with Howard as he ever had been.

  Domhnall opened the door to the empty chamber, staring around. His heart twisted.

  Roseann’s chambers.

  His eyes swept over the neatly made bed. Slowly, he sat down on it. He closed his eyes in despair. He pictured her in it, her long dark hair spilling over the pillow. He pictured himself leaning over her, kissing her passionately until she was squirming with arousal…

  His eyes flew open. He had to accept the bitter truth. She had left him, without a word, fleeing into the night. Whether she was an English spy or not, the fact remained that she had chosen not to tell him. She had chosen to leave him without even a farewell.

  His eyes strayed around the room. Her large trunk was still there. It seemed that she had only taken as much as she could carry.

  He walked over to the trunk, peering into it. Her gowns. His heart tightened when he saw the blue gown that he had especially made for her. The one that always made his heart twist with desire when she wore it.

  And she had left it, discarded it like a rag, along with most of her other clothing.

  He frowned, staring at the trunk. Why would she have left most of her clothing? What was so urgent that she had to flee in the night, leaving most of her possessions behind?

  She is a spy, he thought despondently. That is why she did it.

  Suddenly, he saw a glint of gold at the bottom of the trunk. Slowly, he reached down, beneath the gowns, groping. His hand clasped on a bracelet.

  He pulled it out, gazing at it, turning it over in his hands.

  He recognized this bracelet. It was precious to her. She had told him that it was a gift from her father before her family’s financial troubles. She had thought about selling it to help them but had not been able to part with it.

  He stared down at the bracelet, glinting in his hands, full of foreboding.

  Roseann would never have left it deliberately. She had forgotten it because her flight from the castle had been so hasty.

  His heart seized. Had she been forced to leave?

  28

  Roseann weaved her way through the trees. Everything was a blur around her, but she didn’t dare to stop running. She didn’t even dare to look behind her, for fear that she would see an English renegade pursuing her.

  She felt like her lungs were about to simply explode. Her breath was coming in short, sharp gasps. She was all alone in these woods, with no idea of what direction she was heading in.

  She felt her eyes sting with sudden tears, and a sob escaped her throat, thinking about what had happened. How she had come to be here, running through the forest all alone.

  She had followed Angdaigh and Moibeal, through the village stalls, trying to escape the rampaging soldiers.

  “Keep runnin’!” Angdaigh had called over his shoulder. “I ken a way out of the village. We can hide out in the woods until it is over…”

  She hadn’t questioned him. She had barely been able to think coherently. Blind panic had completely assailed her, and she knew that they were running for their lives. The fact that she was English meant nothing to these men. They would kill her as swiftly as they did any Scot or take her for their awful pleasure.

  They had almost made it to the edge of the village. They had almost made it. But then, a soldier had loomed before them, his sword raised, causing them to stop abruptly.

  “Well, well, well,” he had leered. “What do we have here? Cowards, running into the hills?”

  Angdaigh had put out a hand to ward the man off. “Take me,” he had said clearly. “But let the lasses go. Please.”

  The man had stared at him as if he was mad or talking a language he didn’t understand.

  “I will not let the women go,” he replied, spitting on the ground. “We have need of the women. But I will make sure that you have met your maker, boy, so that you don’t have to witness it.”

  The soldier had raised his sword, lunging towards Angdaigh. Moibeal had suddenly leaped in front of her lover so that the sword pierced her abdomen instead of his. She had cried out in horror, sinking to the ground.

  Roseann had watched with stunned eyes as Angdaigh screamed in pure pain, sinking to her side. Blood was everywhere. Moibeal had gasped for a moment, before her head had lolled back, her eyes large and unseeing.

  “Silly bitch,” said the soldier, staring down at them with cold eyes. “She did it to herself…”

  Angdaigh had leapt to his feet so suddenly that the soldier was taken by surprise. In one swift movement, the stable hand twisted the sword out of the man’s hand. He didn’t hesitate for a moment before plunging it into the man’s heart.

  The soldier looked stunned, staring down at the wound in his chest. Then he toppled forward like a felled tree, falling heavily to the ground.

  Angdaigh had stared down at the dead man, breathing hard.

  “Go,” said Angdaigh, gazing up at Roseann. “Go. Run into the woods. I will try to fend off any who see you and try to follow you…”

  “No!” she had cried, staring at him beseechingly. “I will not leave you here! You will die!”

  The stable hand had laughed bitterly. “I no longer care whether I live or die. My one true love is gone, and I will fight the bastards to the death. I will nae run into the woods any longer…”

  “You cannot bring her back,” pleaded Roseann, her eyes wide. “I am so sorry for what has happened to her, but you are not a soldier, Angdaigh. You cannot battle them!”

  He glared at her. “I dinna
e care! Now go, lady! Save yerself, while there is still time…”

  With tears in her eyes, she had done his bidding, tearing into the woods. She hadn’t looked back. She hadn’t dared. All that she could see was the vision of Moibeal, crying out as the sword had sunk into her.

  The bastards, she thought now. The unspeakable scum.

  If she had time, she would cry out, falling to her knees, keening with the horror of it all. But she couldn’t do that. Angdaigh had sacrificed himself to give her time to get away, and she would not fail him. She must not fail him.