by Fiona Faris
Chapter Six
As soon as there was enough light to see, Duncan and the MacDonald warriors set out in search of Marra’s trail. The MacDonalds took one side of the stream, while he took the other. They traveled quite a way upstream before they found it. “’Tis here,” he called over his shoulder.
“Nae, ‘tis here,” one of the MacDonald warriors argued.
Confused, Duncan looked up to find that the trail led both ways away from the stream. “Are ye sure ‘tis the same?”
“Aye, a highland pony carryin’ two traveled this way.”
“’Tis the same here,” he replied gesturing towards the ground. “They cannae both be Marra.”
“We will follow this trail.”
Duncan eyed the sky. “The storm is fast upon us. Ye will need tae seek shelter.”
“We MacDonalds dinnae cower in fear from a wee bit o’ rain.”
Duncan shook his head at their hubris. “Only a fool would ignore a mountain storm.”
The MacDonalds jeered at his concerns and took off in pursuit of their chosen trail. Duncan turned to follow the one on his side of the stream. He placed Marra’s arisaid under the hound’s nose. The animal sniffed around, but could not get a scent. Duncan moved down the trail hoping it would be able to pick up the scent further away from the water’s edge. A ways down the trail, the hound took off in pursuit. Duncan followed close on its heels. Rain pelted down upon his face as the wind howled around him. The trees bent and swayed overhead, causing a large branch to crash down on the trail in front of him obscuring the path. He maneuvered his horse around it and kept going.
The rain increased in intensity, creating a wall of water all about him. Lightening split the sky. The hound whimpered and hid beneath Duncan’s horse. He could barely see the ground in front of him. He needed to seek shelter or he would not be alive to save anyone. He gave a brief thought to the MacDonald warriors hoping they had taken his advice to seek shelter before it was too late, but he could not worry about them now. He forged ahead, searching for a place to take cover. He peered through the downpour searching for a cave or a rock outcropping that he could crawl under, but could not find anything. The crack of a nearby tree falling sounded in the distance startling his horse. The highland pony skirted sideways and took off running. Duncan attempted to soothe her and just barely got her stopped before she ran into the wall of a dilapidated croft.
Thanks be tae God.
Duncan dismounted and left his horse in a lean-to structure off to the side of the croft. The building looked as though it had not been maintained in quite some time. He left the lean-to and made his way to the front door of the croft. He tried the handle. As soon as the latch gave way, the wind swept the door from his fingers and slammed it against the wall. A warm amber glow from embers in the fireplace lit the far end of the croft. Movement on the floor caught his eye, and he drew his pistol and cocked it.
“Please dinnae kill me,” the dark lump on the floor begged.
“Marra?” Duncan would have recognized her voice anywhere. He searched the croft for the presence of her captors, but found no one else.
“Duncan?”
“Aye, I am here.” He bent down and moved the hair from her face. Her cheeks were wet with tears, and his heart went out to her. She looked relatively unharmed. “Are ye harmed, lass? Did they…” he could hardly bring himself to ask the question.
“Nae, I have no’ been violated.”
“Who took ye?”
“I dinnae ken.”
“Where are they?”
“I dinnae ken. He left and has no’ returned.”
Duncan pulled his sgian dubh and cut her bonds, setting her free. The moment she was set loose, she threw her arms around his neck and sobbed in relief. “How did ye find me?”
“Whoever took ye did no’ cover their tracks verra well. I dinnae believe they cared if ye were found or no’. Do ye remember anythin’ about them?”
“Only his voice. If I were tae hear it again I would ken the man. I wounded him afore he left, but no’ fatally.” She stood up and moved toward the door.
“I ken that ye wish tae leave, lass, but we cannae travel in this storm.”
“I must go out and…” The look on her face said everything that her words did not.
“Stay near the croft. Dinnae go any further than the door.”
“I…” She blushed bright red in the dim light, then turned and left the croft. Rain spattered the floor from the open door as the wind blew through the room.
Duncan smiled in spite of himself at her embarrassment. He moved to the fireplace and stoked the dying embers into a flame. When Marra returned, she was soaked to the bone and shivering so hard her teeth chattered. “Ye need tae get out o’ those clothes afore ye catch yer death.”
“I cannae undress with ye here.” Her horrified expression was almost humorous.
“I will turn my back and ye can hide under the blankets on the bed.” The bed coverings had holes in them from moths and mice, but they would have to do for the time being. He moved over to the bed and shook out the blankets to ensure that there were not any creatures crawling about among them. It looked as though someone had been using the croft off and on for hunting, but that no one actually lived there. He was reasonably sure that her captors would not be able to return until the storm had passed.
Marra bent over to remove her shoes and stumbled forward clutching her head. “Och.”
Duncan moved forward, concerned, and grabbed her elbow to steady her. “I saw blood on the ground as I followed ye. Were ye wounded, lass?”
“My head,” she whispered gasping in pain.
Duncan reached up to feel her skull and found her hair matted with blood. “Och, I’m sorry, lass. Let me clean yer wound.” He grabbed a wooden bowl from the table and stepped outside long enough to clean it off and gather some rain water. He brought her over to the firelight so that he could see her wound and did his best to wash the blood from her hair. He needed to get a better look at it to ensure that she would not suffer any permanent damage. The wound was deeper than he would have liked, but it did not appear to have cracked the skull bones. He did not have a needle or thread to sew her wound with. The thought occurred to him that if he could find a needle among the croft’s scattered belongings then he could use a hair from his pony’s tail as thread. He searched the length and breadth of the croft, but came up with nothing. Unable to sew the wound shut, he tore a strip of his shirt and bound her head to protect it as best he could. Her stomach growled ,and he smiled. “I have a bit o’ bannock in my bag. When ye have changed out o’ yer wet clothes I will bring it tae ye.”
“I thank ye for yer kindness.”
“’Tis no’ anythin’, lass.” He turned away and allowed her to disrobe in relative privacy.
“Does my faither ken that I am gone?”
“Aye, he kens it well.”
“Did he harm ye?”
“Nae, but he wished tae do so and still will if I dinnae return ye tae him.”
“I am sorry, Duncan.”
“’Tis no’ yer fault, lass. ‘Tis the fault o’ the men that took ye. They are the ones who have much tae fear from me and yer faither.”
“How will ye find them?”
“Perhaps they will return here once the storm has ceased and save me the trouble o’ huntin’ them down.”
“I pray they dinnae return. I cannae bear the thought o’ it.”
“I have barred the door. They will no’ be able tae enter without my say.”
“Duncan?”
“Aye?”
“Thank ye for comin’ for me.” He could not see her face, but he could hear the tears in her voice.
“Always,” he promised. “Always.”
A hand touched his back and he turned to face her. Her emerald green eyes brimmed with tears, causing them to sparkle in the firelight like jewels in a crown. Her scarlet locks flowed down around her bare shoulders in stark contrast to her pale crea
my skin. He longed to reach out and caress it, but the fearful way in which she clutched the blanket about her naked body gave him pause. She had been through quite enough without him adding to it by his lustful desires.
“Ye are a bonnie lass tae be sure.”
She blushed at his compliment and averted her eyes in embarrassment. He handed her the promised bannock with a cup of rainwater he had gathered and she turned away to go and sit upon the bed in the corner. The firelight danced upon her crimson tresses making them appear as flames about her head. A bonnier lass I have ne’er seen afore. He came to sit in a chair by the fire across from her.
“I remember ye,” she said as she stared at him from her perch upon the bed.
“I should hope that ye would,” Duncan commented, confused by her statement. They had only just met at the gathering, and she had not seemed to be weak of mind.
She laughed at what he assumed was the look of confusion on his face. “Nae, I remember ye from when we were but bairns. Ye were watchin’ the men tossin’ cabers, and I came up behind ye and pulled on yer hair. Ye gave chase, and we played, runnin’ around the gatherin’ grounds until our faithers came and dragged us away from each other.”
“That was ye?”
“Aye. ‘Twas the last gatherin’ I was e’er allowed tae attend. My maither died soon after and faither ne’er wished tae attend e’er again.”
“That explains why I had ne’er seen ye afore. I kenned that had I e’er seen ye as ye are now, I would have noticed and nae forgotten.”
She blushed again and smiled. “I kenned I had seen yer eyes afore, but did no’ remember from where or when until I lay there on the floor bound with nothin’ tae do but think.”
“I dinnae envy ye that, lass, but dinnae fash. I will find who did this tae ye and they will pay with their lives.” His tone conveyed that he meant what he said. “Did they seek a ransom?”
“He claimed that he did no’. The man said somethin’ about wantin’ tae be laird.”
“Do ye mean tae tell me that it was one o’ yer own clan?”
“Nae, he said he did no’ want to be the MacDonald laird. I dinnae ken what he meant. He was mad.”
“Aye, that has been made clear by his taken ye and leavin’ ye alone tae rot.”
“I dinnae ken any more than that. It sounded as if he wished tae do the Clan MacDonald harm, but that he wished tae claim another clan’s lairdship.”
“The only clans that takin’ ye has harmed are the MacDonalds and my own. Had I nae made yer faither see reason, he would have killed me before my own faither’s eyes. He still may.”
“I feared that he would have killed ye, and my heart could no’ bear the thought o’ it. The thought o’ war between our clans would be disastrous. I have ne’er understood our faithers’ feud, but I kenned all tae well that the blame for my disappearance would be laid at yer feet once my maid Diana told my faither where I had gone. Do ye ken why they hate each other so?”
“Nae, I dinnae,” Duncan lied. He knew many reasons why they hated each other, but he did not feel it was his place to tell her.
“’Tis the foolishness o’ auld men.”
Duncan smiled at her bold speech. “Aye, that it is.”
She finished her bannock and water, laid the cup on the floor at her feet, then curled up in a ball upon the bed. She was still shivering, and his heart went out to her. He stood and walked over to the bed. His tartan was wet from riding through the rain, so he unbuckled his belt and let it drop to the floor. She squeaked in shock like a little mouse, and he laughed at the sound. He picked up his tartan and laid it over the chair to dry. He took a blanket from the bed and wrapped it about his waist for her modesty’s sake, then removed his torn shirt and laid it out to dry as well. He moved toward her, and she scampered back to the farthest corner of the bed in fear. “I will no’ harm ye, lass. I simply wish tae help ye.”
“But ye are…”
“Braw?” he teased.
“Naked!” she exclaimed, choking on the word. Her eyes stared at his bare chest as if it were the most deliciously obscene thing she had ever laid eyes upon.
“Aye.” He tried his best not to offend her by laughing more than he already was. “I dinnae want tae make the bed wet. We need tae stay warm, and with so little dry wood tae be had, the only way left tae us is tae keep each other warm.”
He could see the uncertainty in her eyes as he sat down upon the bed and held his arm out for her to come closer. She hesitated, but when another chill caused her to shiver so hard her teeth snapped together, she moved forward and allowed herself to be pulled into his embrace. “I will ne’er do anythin’ tae harm ye, Marra. I swear it on all that is holy. I will protect ye tae my last dyin’ breath.”
Chapter Seven
Marra could not believe her own brazenness as she moved into Duncan’s arms. His arms and chest were bare, corded with muscle. She laid her head on his shoulder as he wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close. She clutched the blanket to her naked body as if her very life depended upon it. His body exuded heat as if he had his own internal fireplace. The feel of his bare skin beneath her cheek was unlike anything she had ever experienced before. For the first time since her capture, she felt safe and cared for. His hand caressed her hair, and she nestled more closely to him in an attempt to absorb his body’s heat. He took her hand in his and held it against his chest over his heart. When she felt the beat of his heart beneath her palm, she smiled remembering how it had felt when they danced together.
“I am glad it was ye that found me and nae one o’ my faither’s men,” she admitted quietly.
“As am I, lass. Yer faither sent his best warriors tae find ye, but they took another path. I hope they tae were able tae find shelter from the storm.”
When he breathed, the muscles in his abdomen rose and fell in rippling waves. His skin glistened in the firelight making it look as though it danced beneath her fingertips. His chest hairs tickled her fingers, and she reveled in the glorious warmth of him. Thunder rolled overhead, shaking the croft once more, and she clung to him in fear, afraid that the croft might fall down around them.
“Ye are safe now, lass. Nothin’ will harm ye as long as I am here with ye.” He stroked her hand upon his chest, intertwining his fingers with hers in a most intimate way.
His words and touch soothed her, and she melted into him, surrendering unto him her trust. “Ye are a good man tae show concern for yer enemies.”
“Ye are no’ my enemy, lass. Ye could ne’er be such.”
“As ye could ne’er be mine.” She looked up at his face, tracing the rugged features with her eyes. His chin was covered in stubble, giving him a ruggedly roguish appearance. His eyes shone a brilliant blue even in the dim light of the fire, kind and seductive. Marra could not help but to fall under his spell. Her skin tingled with the nearness of their blanket clad bodies. It was tantalizing beyond measure to lay with him in such a fashion. She had never before shared such intimate contact with any man, and she was not certain how to comport herself. She found that she desired things she had never before allowed herself to consider.
“Get some rest. We will leave as soon as the weather clears,” he advised, leaning his head back against the wall.
Marra noted that he had laid his sword next to the bed so that he might grab it easily were it needed. She felt safe in his arms. She allowed herself to relax and laid her head on his chest. Closing her eyes, she listened to the beat of his heart and slowly drifted off to sleep, praying that the rain would end, while simultaneously praying that it never did. Locked in his arms she gave herself over to oblivion.
* * *
Duncan lay with Marra in his arms wondering at how easy it had been to find her. Her kidnappers had barely made any attempts to hide their tracks. The only thing that had proven to be even slightly difficult was the stream crossing wherein the trail went off both directions. Even that divergence had done little to protect their whereabouts as a hound could hav
e easily uncovered the proper path to take just as his hound had done. He looked down at her sleeping face and marveled at the creamy perfection of her features. Her crimson tresses streamed down his chest as tiny feathery caresses. His body stirred fiercely at her nearness, but he ignored its urgings as to move would wake her. He turned his attention back to her captors.
Why did they take her as they did and no’ bother tae conceal it? Marra’s words about the man having a desire to be the laird of a clan came to mind. What would takin’ the MacDonald laird’s daughter have tae do with becomin’ laird o’ any clan. Nae laird would e’er give up their place within the clan o’er such a thing. The only thing that takin’ her has accomplished is tae nearly bring the Clan MacDonald and my own tae war.
Duncan caressed Marra’s hair as he listened to the storm outside. It had not let up. In fact, it had only increased in intensity. The wind howled all around them, thunder reverberated through the sky. Marra startled as a particularly loud crack of thunder shook the earth. Her eyes opened, and she looked up to ensure that he was still there. “All is well, lass. Go back tae sleep,” he soothed.
“My grandmaither once told me that our family came from the Norse god o’ thunder. She claimed that my red hair was a gift from Thor himself.”
“I had heard such rumors about the Clan MacDonald descending from the Norse invaders.” He smiled at her words. “Ye are as bonnie as any goddess could e’er be.”