A Pledge of Passion to the Highlander

by Maddie MacKenna

  One of the soldiers took out some keys and opened the cage. The door squeaked loudly, almost in protest.

  “Here are your new lodgings, lady,” said the soldier, grinning. “I do hope they are to your liking. A room with a view, no less!”

  The two soldiers guffawed together as if he had made a great joke.

  Her heart twisted. And then, they pushed her into the cage, locking it. She watched them walk down the hill without a backward glance.

  Domhnall, she thought desperately, tears streaming down her face. My love.

  33

  The wind howled across the desolate hillside. Roseann shivered violently, clutching the thin blanket around her shoulders. It did little to ward off the cold, but it was better than nothing.

  She blinked into the darkness. The moon had risen high over the hillside, casting a pearlescent glow over the camp. From up here, she could barely hear the sounds of it. Occasionally, a snatch of laughter carried on the wind to her. The sparks from the campfires twisted into the air, orangey-yellow, swirling around in the inky night.

  She shivered violently again; she was so very cold and cramped. The cage was not large enough for her to stand up properly; she was forced to either sit on the ground or crouch like an animal. Her muscles were starting to seize up from the strain, and the pain from the intermittent cramps was becoming intolerable.

  She rested her head against the bars and kept staring off into the darkness. She couldn’t even cry anymore. She had been here for hours now. She had watched the sunset over the hill and night descend. She had sobbed, on and off, all that time, until she had suddenly stopped. It was as if she simply didn’t have any more tears left within her.

  They had come only once—the same two soldiers. One had been carrying the thin blanket, which she was wrapped in now, and the other a small bowl of some kind of stew. She had stared at them plaintively as they had walked up the hill towards her.

  They hadn’t spoken. The same soldier had taken out the keys, unlocking the cage. Roughly, he had loosened her gag so that she could speak for the first time since they had taken her here.

  “Please,” she had said frantically, in a coarse voice, her words tumbling over each other. “Please, you must do something! I am a lady. My father is Lord Croilton of Loughton Hall in Berwick.” She thought furiously. “He will pay you good coin for my safe release! He will do anything for me!”

  The soldier had merely grunted. “You are wasting your breath, lady. I am not about to risk my position here to save you. The Commander has a very nasty way of dealing with deserters…”

  “But you do not have to come back!” she whispered desperately. “My father will protect you from the Commander. He will make sure that you are kept safe…”

  The other soldier laughed. “You are a fool, aren’t you, lady? You really think your father can protect anyone from the Commander? He is like God around here. Everyone fears him in the borderlands.” He grinned suddenly. “He would slit your good father’s throat as soon as look at him, and your father wouldn’t even see it coming!”

  “Enough,” growled the other soldier, thrusting the bowl of stew into her hands. “Eat quickly. I want to get back to the campfire and have my own grub.”

  Roseann had stared at him, pleadingly. But his face was set in a grim line. He purposefully looked away to the horizon beyond the cage.

  They have no heart, she thought despairingly. They have no soul. They are Godless men.

  She had stared down into the bowl of thin stew. Her stomach growled. With a sigh, she picked up the spoon at the edge of the bowl and started wolfing it down. She needed to keep her strength up if she was to survive this ordeal. It was as simple as that.

  After she had finished, they had gagged her again and handed her the blanket. Without another word, they had locked the cage and descended back down the hill towards the camp. Roseann had even heard one of them whistling.

  She stared at the camp now. The smells from the evening meals were wafting towards her—roasted hare and venison. Her stomach growled loudly. The stew had been barely enough to fill her belly.

  She closed her eyes, trying to block out the smell. It was torture, and it wasn’t her hunger that was consuming her.

  She had to escape.

  Desperately, she gripped the bars of the cage tighter. She must find a way to do it. But she was so weak, now. Being stuffed in this cage like an animal had cramped her limbs so badly that she doubted whether she would even be able to run if she were free of it. And run was what she needed to do, straight away.

  She sighed deeply. Her hands were bound, and she was gagged. Two more things that were strikes against her in any attempt she made at freedom. Even if she were able to run, she couldn’t talk, and she couldn’t aid or defend herself in the woods.

  Her eyes filled with tears. There was no hope. There was simply no way that she could escape, and even if she could, she would be caught again quickly.

  Another shiver of fear went through her. What were they intending to do to her? She knew about cages like this; she knew that they sometimes kept prisoners in them for months or even years. Once, she had seen a man kept in one near Berwick, hanging over the edge of a cliff for two years. He had looked like a living skeleton by the end of it. One day, she had seen that the cage was empty and swinging forlornly in the wind.

  The man had died from prolonged exposure and weakness.

  She shivered again. Was that what they were intending to do to her? Were they going to keep her caged like a traveling fair animal while they went around Scotland? Were they slowly killing her for their own amusement? Or was this simply a temporary measure until they decided on another way to kill her?

  The horror of it all suddenly became too much. She couldn’t think anymore. Slowly, she lay down on the floor of the cage, twisting to her side, grabbing the blanket tighter around her.

  The wind howled louder, whipping her face. She had never spent the night outdoors before. She had never slept beneath the stars. It had always been in a bed, secure, and warm.

  Her heart seized with longing, for Domhnall, and Coirecrag. It also bled for her home and her parents so far away. Were they even still at Loughton Hall, or had it finally came to pass that they had to leave it? She had received no word from them since she had returned to Scotland.

  Guilt tore through her. She should never have left them. She should have stayed in England, fighting for their home. But then, if she hadn’t left, she would never have experienced what she had with Domhnall. She would never have lain with him and had such delirious joy in his arms. She would never have heard his sweet words of love to her or been able to whisper hers back to him.

  A single tear trickled down her face and quickly dried by the wind. She would do it all over again, even if it still led her here to this moment. It had all been worth it, to know such love, even if she would never know it again.

  She stirred restlessly in her sleep, trying to stretch her limbs. But it was no use. She was curled into a ball so tightly she couldn’t unfurl herself at all.

  She was dreaming again…

  The shadow was there, lurking like a prowler in the woods. She could feel its presence, hovering around her. She couldn’t touch it. It was like smoke; she could see but not feel. And like smoke, it filled her lungs with its acrid darkness.

  “Domhnall,” she called desperately, running through the woods. “Domhnall! Where are you, my love?”

  She knew that he was in the woods. Sometimes, she caught a glimpse of him, behind a tree. But every single time that she turned, pursuing him, he eluded her. She stretched out a hand, but he was always tantalizingly just beyond her reach.

  “Domhnall!” she called again. But the wind caught her cry, whipping it around the woods until it fell into nothing.

  It was coming again. The shadow was rushing towards her and threatening to consume her entirely. She could feel it swirling around her like a mist. It was traveling up her legs and towards her face. S
he knew that if it got there, it would surely start to choke her. It would slowly suffocate her.

  “Roseann!”

  She whipped her head around. It was his voice, reaching out to her. But she still couldn’t see him. Where was he?

  “Domhnall!” she cried desperately. “It is going to kill me…”

  “Hold fast, my love,” came the voice through the trees. “Ye are stronger than you think. Ye can defeat it, but ye must stay strong…”

  “Where are you?” she cried. “You must help me!”

  She felt the shadow reach her waist. It was slowly climbing higher. And now, it was no longer like mist—vaporous and airy. Now, it was like strong vines twisting around her and rooting her to the spot.

  “I cannot see ye,” he called back. “I cannot find ye! The shadow has fogged my vision. Ye must fight, Roseann. I ken ye have the power. Use it now!”

  She took a deep breath. The shadow was higher still. It was clawing upwards, around her neck, choking her.

  She closed her eyes. Suddenly, she felt herself growing. She was growing once more, sprouting up from the ground and shooting upwards like a fast-growing sapling.

  She opened her eyes. She was filled with the light once again. She was naked and powerful. The blue symbols painted on her flesh glowed iridescently and pulsing with life. The symbol of the Sigil, the ancient Druid blessing, rendered onto her flesh.

  She was powerful. She was strong. She was about to defeat the shadow once and for all…

  Slowly, she opened her eyes. Her eyelids fluttered in confusion.

  She tried desperately to stretch her aching limbs, but she couldn’t. Suddenly, she remembered why. It all came sliding back into her mind with an abrupt jolt.

  She was on a hillside in rural Scotland. And she was caged like an animal.

  Bitter tears stung her eyes as the horror of her situation came flooding back. The dream was a lie. She wasn’t powerful. She wasn’t strong. The shadow that was determined to consume her was about to kill her.

  She twisted around desperately, now groaning in her agony.

  It is all too late, she thought despondently. There is no way to escape. Domhnall is in Coirecrag and still waiting for the men of Lios. He has no idea where I am or what happened to me. He cannot save me.

  Suddenly, his words from the dream flooded into her mind. His words that she had to stay strong. That she had to find the power within herself to endure what lay ahead even if he wasn’t there to help her.

  Was she strong enough to endure this?

  Suddenly, she heard movement. She craned her ears desperately. Was it an animal lurking in the bushes and about to attack her?

  But then, she saw the figure of a man moving towards her in the darkness. She couldn’t see his face at all. He walked slowly towards her until he was standing next to the cage. And then, he squatted down. He was so close she felt his warm breath.

  She shrank back, fearful. Was it a soldier, coming to molest her, while the camp was sleeping

  “Roseann.” The voice was strangely familiar. “Are you awake? Can you hear me?”

  She stared at the man. It wasn’t possible, was it…?

  Perhaps she was still dreaming. Perhaps her longing for freedom was so high she was imagining things. Perhaps she had conjured him with her desire to escape from this brutal situation.

  “Sweet Lord,” she whispered. “Can it be true? Is it really you?”

  He nodded. “It is true, Roseann. I am here.”

  She stared at him, dumbfounded.

  It was her brother, Nicholas.

  34

  The man slowly took out a set of keys and unlocked the cage. He reached out towards her, pulling the gag away from her mouth.

  “Nicholas?” she breathed, still not truly believing it. “How are you here?”

  The man crouched closer to the cage. She could still barely see him in the darkness. His hair was a little longer than when she had last laid eyes on him. It had been months since she had last seen her brother. She didn’t even know if he was aware of all that had happened in his long absence as a soldier in the English army.

  “I thought it was you,” he whispered. “I saw them leading you towards Howard’s tent this morning. I simply could not believe my eyes…”

  “How are you here?” she repeated, overwhelmed.

  He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It is a covert business, Roseann. I am not supposed to talk about it with anyone, but in the current dire circumstances, I will make an exception.” He hesitated. “I have been sent into the renegade camp to keep an eye on what Howard is doing here. I report back to King Edward himself.”

  Roseann gasped. “You are a spy, then?”

  He nodded quickly. “Yes, you could call me that. I was requisitioned to this position over a month ago when it became obvious that Howard was…making trouble, yet again.”

  Roseann shook her head. “I simply cannot believe it!” Her heart filled with sudden joy at seeing her beloved brother.

  He grinned slightly. “Let me help you out of this terrible cage, little sister. You look like a wounded bird.”

  Slowly and carefully, he pulled her forward, helping her out. When she was free of it, he pulled her to her feet, supporting her. She fell against him, suddenly dizzy.

  “I cannot stand,” she whispered, feeling her legs buckling beneath her. “I fear I shall fall.”

  Nicholas didn’t say a word. He suddenly hoisted her up into his arms and walking with her into the woods beyond. They must have walked a long way before he carefully laid her down against a tree.

  She jumped at the sound of a soft neigh just behind her. She whipped her head around to see a horse standing there, saddled, but with no rider.

  “Oh, dear Lord,” she whispered. “Have we stumbled upon one of his soldiers?”

  Nicholas shook his head. “I have taken you here because I had already prepared the horse. I led him into the woods before I came to open the cage.” He gazed at her. “He is your escape from this camp, Roseann.”

  She blinked rapidly, fighting back the tears.

  Nicholas leaned closer. “We do not have much time. It is imperative that you head off soon so that you have many hours of riding ahead of them if they discover…” He took a deep breath. “They were planning to kill you and dispose of your body in the woods, Roseann. I volunteered for the job. They think that I am doing it now.”

  She blanched, feeling slightly sick. “You have taken a great risk,” she said fearfully. “What will they do to you if they discover that you have not done your duty?”

  He grinned again. “They will not suspect me. I am not Nicholas Gibson there. I have an alias name. They have no idea of my connection to you.” He sighed deeply, staring at her. “I heard talk, as to why you were caged. They say that you came from Coirecrag, the castle of the Laird of Greum Dubh. Is that correct?”

  She nodded slowly. “Yes, it is. I have been working as tutor to his younger brother there for a while now.” She paused. “He offered great coin, and I was desperate to help our parents save Loughton Hall.”

  He nodded frowning. “It is not what I would have wished for you, Roseann, but I am proud of you for doing it and for trying to help our family and save our home…”

  She blinked back tears again. “It seems it has all been for naught, anyway. The last time I was there, the creditors were circling and demanding the total amount. Our father was convinced the only solution was to sell our home.”

  His frown deepened. “I was able to stop at Loughton Hall for a few hours, Roseann, before I took on this assignment.” He paused. “They told me about where you were and what you were doing in Scotland. They also told me that they had managed to put off the creditors for a little while, at least. Do not worry. Loughton Hall is safe, for the moment.”

  She let out a sigh of relief. At last, there was some good news. Or at least, as good as it could get for the moment.

  “Our mother also told me about your h
igh regard for the Laird of Greum Dubh,” he said slowly. “She was convinced that you had fallen in love with him.”

  Roseann blushed furiously. She didn’t feel comfortable talking about it with her big brother, but then, these were exceptional circumstances, after all.

  “It is true,” she said slowly. “The Laird has declared his love for me, and I have declared my love for him.” She paused. “But all of this business with Howard started, and he was forced to announce his betrothal to the Lady Sineag of Lios. To honor a pact that his father made before him so that Greum Dubh would have enough fighting men if there was an attack.”