The bright, warm sun made the forest sparkle like a fairyland. Under the streams of light filtering down through the branches of the towering trees, Gusty whirled and danced a few steps as she hummed a tune. She imagined the flickering lights through the leaves were small fairies and sprites, peeking out from behind every bush and tree trunk, hiding in the shadows. A feeling of enchantment settled over her as she continued to walk through the lush green forest. She shivered as her imagination ran wild and after a while she nearly talked herself into believing she was no longer alone. She could see how the people of this time came to believe in things such as fairies and changelings, brownies and goblins.
As these thoughts crossed her mind, she rounded a curve in the path and found an old man sitting upon a fallen log at the side of the trail. Stopping short, she glanced around before looking back at him. A shiver of uncertainty raced up her spine, making her hesitate. Perhaps it would be prudent for her to turn around and make her way back to the abbey. But he’d already seen her—to turn away now would seem rude.
“He’s just an old man,” she muttered as she approached him. “I’ll just say hello and goodbye, just to be polite.”
He seemed unconcerned as she made her way up the path toward him.
Perhaps her fertile imagination was working overtime but the closer she got to the withered old man the more he resembled a gargoyle. Something about his presence bothered her and a shiver of apprehension swept over her, leaving goose bumps on her arms. She came to a halt but as she began to take a step backward he greeted her.
“Hello, lassie. It is good to finally meet ye.”
His words, spoken in an aged and raspy voice, stilled her movements.
“Good day, sir. Do I know you?” Gusty queried cautiously.
A long walking stick rested on his lap. He lifted it to set one end on the ground and she took a step back. He unfolded his legs, rising shakily to his feet, and with the help of the cane he straightened to his full height, surprisingly standing much taller than she had expected. In fact, the man was just a few inches shorter than Alexander was.
“Aye ye have the look of your mother. But I would wager ye have the character of your father.” He didn’t sound too pleased about the idea.
“You know who I am? How do you know my parents?”
“Ah, lassie, I know ye. Though it was only recently that I was reminded of your existence. Aye, I know ye and yours very well.”
“Then you know my mother lives at the abbey and at the moment my father is also there.” She did not think a small lie would be out of order. Especially if it gives me a little safety net. What was the likelihood of meeting someone out there in the woods who claimed to know her? Nothing about this feels like a chance encounter.
“My husband is due to arrive anytime now.” She glanced back down the path, acting as if she was expecting someone.
The old man’s eyes widened. Apparently she had startled him. Maybe he did not know as much about her as he claimed.
“Your husband, ye say? I was not informed ye had wed.”
“We were handfasted not long ago. I don’t see why you would have been told about it. You are a stranger—I don’t know you from Adam.” Gusty informed him rudely. The old man made her nervous.
The cunning smile that spread across his wrinkled old face looked as foreign to his features as did the suddenly hard, speculating look he raked over her.
“Ah, good, it was only a handfasting.”
Two large ruffians suddenly appeared at the edge of the clearing. Gusty watched them in alarm, eyes wide as they moved stealthily up behind the old man.
“Look out!” She leaped forward, placing herself between him and the two men. “I’m warning you,” she yelled, “my husband and his men are just down the trail and they will be here any minute. Turn around and go back the way you came.”
But her words went unheeded. The men split up, one moving to her left as the other went to her right. She tried to keep her eyes on both of them but as the man to her right moved in close, his partner jumped her from behind. Two large arms wrapped around her waist. Instinct took over and the techniques she’d learned at all those self-defense classes came rushing back to her. She leaned forward and jabbed her left elbow back into her attacker’s stomach while punching with her right fist and smashing him in his face. The man howled and fell back, holding his bleeding nose. She turned and kicked him in his groin. He went down, clutching himself with one hand, but he managed to grab hold of her long braid and he dragged her to the ground with him as he writhed in pain. She grasped two good handfuls of the sensitive flesh on the underside of his upper arms and pinched with all her might. Her attacker squealed like a stuck pig and released his hold on her hair to attend the torn flesh of his armpits.
As Gusty stumbled back, breathing hard, her hesitation cost her as the second assailant seized her by the wrist and yanked her toward him. She pulled her wrist back hard, and in a waving motion she twisted it toward her body. Her attacker lost his hold.
Gusty turned to run but something heavy crashed down on her skull. She staggered a step then fell to the ground, her vision exploding in a kaleidoscope of colors. From her position on the ground, just before blackness claimed her completely, she looked up into the evil eyes of the old man she’d tried to protect. Her gaze fell on the cane in his hand and understanding dawned.
“Ye damn fools! Ye let a wee lassie get the best of ye! Ha! For the love of God, pick her up and throw her on the horse!”
Gusty closed her eyes and sank into the dark oblivion of unconsciousness.
* * * * *
The jarring ride eventually aroused Gusty from her dazed stupor. She sat on a horse, slumped in front of a very large and rather odorous body, her hands tied tightly in front of her and her legs lashed together with a piece of leather that went under the horse’s belly. She shifted and winced as her stiff, sore muscles protested. Her head throbbed from the blow she had sustained.
How could I have been so stupid? Why didn’t I pay attention to Father’s warnings about the possible dangers of walking alone?
Gusty berated herself for the circumstances in which she found herself. Why had she walked away from the abbey without an escort or at least told someone where she was going? She took a bit of satisfaction in the knowledge that these men feared her enough to take the precaution of tying her to the horse. But what did this trio of oddly matched men want with her? The old man seemed to know her and her family so maybe he had a grudge against her father. Was he out for revenge or did he intend to ask for ransom?
“She’s awake, Laird.”
The foul-smelling brute she rode with had apparently noticed her movements and was tattling on her. The group promptly reigned in their mounts and their leader, who sat tall on his horse as if he was a king instead of a fragile old man, turned to look at her. He no longer seemed to have trouble moving around but approached her warily, moving so close his horse’s flank brushed her leg as he studied her.
“You are a Highland laird? How appropriate!”
The old man frowned, obviously taking her words for the sarcastic comment she’d meant to deliver.
“You twelfth-century macho men think you can get away with anything. First I have to put up with Hagen, who gives me to Alexander. And now I have to put up with the bunch of you. You crude barbarians!”
“Ye truly do not know who I am, do ye, lass?” He queried, red-faced with obvious anger. “I am the MacKay.” He puffed out his chest as if proclaiming himself God.
Gusty sat there and stared at him blankly. Did he really think she cared? She shrugged to let him know the information he had imparted meant nothing to her.
“Sorry, buster, but I’ve never heard of you.”
The man behind her piped in. “He is the MacKay. The MacKay!”
“Look, repeatedly stressing the man’s name doesn’t help. I have simply never heard of him.”
The third and largest of the men growled, his fist bal
led as he leaned toward her. Gusty jerked back out of range, fearing he might strike her. No doubt he’d love to get back at her for flattening him to the ground with her well-practiced techniques.
“He’s your grandsire!” He spit the words at her. “Ye will show him the respect he deserves!”
She snorted. This old scoundrel? Her grandfather? They expected her to believe such a thing? Not hardly! Her grandfather would not treat her in such a manner. What kind of man would hit his granddaughter over the head and carry her off to ransom her back to her husband—or worse?
“Respect him? I don’t even know him. I do not believe for a moment this man is my grandfather. I’ve been in the Highlands for months now and no man has come forward to claim that position. Why do you think that is?”
She looked at the old man the entire time she addressed his lackey. The MacKay cleared his throat and flushed a bit.
“I am a busy man, lass,” he said, his tone belligerent. “I am the chieftain of the MacKays and I do not have time or the desire to traipse across the countryside to entertain a long-lost granddaughter who did not have the decency to make herself available to such particulars. In truth your parents should have informed me sooner.”
“Then why have you come today?”
“To save ye from your father’s intrigues.”
“My father has made no plans for me.”
“If you believe that, you do not know your father well, lass. The man is pure trouble and where he goes heartache follows. Just ask your mother.”
“My mother loves my father and he loves her. It was not he who put her in that convent, stealing her youth and the rest of her life.”
The MacKay muttered a couple of curses and spurred his horse forward. Gusty grinned behind his back.
“That was not wise of ye to anger the MacKay, lass.” The man behind her warned in a low voice.
“I am not afraid of him. He’s just a bitter old man who has made some poor choices in his life and now he wants to blame everyone but himself for those decisions. He will regret stealing me from my husband.”
“Ye should keep your tongue behind your teeth, lass. The MacKay has a mighty temper that could flay a shrew like ye.”
The meanness in the man’s harsh whisper sent a chill down her spine. She suddenly realized that no matter how much bravado she displayed she was still the one tied up and being carried away against her will.
“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.”
Castle MacKay was a well-built fortress made of dark stone with high walls and two spiraling towers. As they rode through the gates into the courtyard she studied the impressive, beautifully appointed stone work of the building and the well-groomed grounds.
“I could have ended up in a worse prison I suppose,” she muttered.
Not long after they arrived, a shy maid came to escort Gusty to a tower chamber. The door closed behind her as soon as she stepped into the room, leaving her to her own devices. Gusty turned and stared back at the door for a moment, wondering if she had been locked in. She reached out and tried the latch, which lifted quite easily. She sighed with relief. Pulling the door open, she stepped out and glanced up and down the hallway. In the distance she heard voices and fading footstep. Resigned to her fate—at least for the moment—she stepped back into the room and quietly closed the door.
She made her way to the beautifully appointed canopy bed. Draped in cream and gold velvet fabric, the bed took up half the room. Running her hand over the thick, cream-colored comforter covering the mattress, she noticed the hand-stitched pillows stacked against a long bed roll at the head of the bed. She picked up one of the pillows and traced a finger over the delicate stitches.
“Someone put a great deal of time into working on this,” she murmured, clutching the pillow to her chest as she perused the rest of the room.
In the large, cold hearth that took up the opposite wall, someone had stacked logs and kindling, which needed only a match to start a blaze. Before the hearth sat a straight-back chair tucked beneath a bare table. The remaining wall held a tall window and a cushioned window seat. The window, with its shutters open to the cool evening breeze, provided the only source of light for the room and even as she finished inspecting her temporary home, the late afternoon sunshine faded into twilight.
The headache she had tried to ignore since she had regained consciousness after the MacKay had smacked her in the head with his walking stick came roaring down on her. Staggering to the large bed, she pushed the pillows out of the way and pulled back the comforter. She dragged herself onto the broad mattress and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
* * * * *
“Laird Enoch MacKay requests your presence in the great hall to break your fast, if you please, my lady.” The young maidservant licked her lips and shuffled her feet.
Staring at the girl, Gusty debated her options.
“Tell his lordship I must decline his generous invitation. I would like to take my meals in my room. Please bring me a tray from the kitchen. Thank you.”
An hour later the maidservant returned with Gusty’s food. Her empty stomach rumbled at the enticing aromas emanating from the tray. Greedily she ate the delicious porridge and boiled eggs and drank all the warm, fresh milk, leaving nothing on her tray.
She then waited for the MacKay to make an appearance or to at least summon her again to the great hall. But no one came to her door the rest of the day. Just before dark the same maid brought another tray of food and then left Gusty without a word.
“So that’s the way it’s going to be. Well two can play at this game.” Evidently her grandfather thought he’d punish her by leaving her to stew in her stubbornness. If that was the case, he’d soon learn just how stubborn she could be.
Each day for the following two weeks Gusty went through the same routine. She sat alone in her room, where she ate her meals and spoke to no one. But the boredom finally got to her and on the morning of her fifteenth day in captivity Gusty decided she needed a plan to escape her grandfather’s castle and make her way home.
She went over all the possibilities she could think of but her situation seemed hopeless. She had tried to keep track of the direction they had taken through the woods and hills as they had moved away from the familiar countryside surrounding the abbey, but it had been a long journey and she had been unconscious for the first part of the trip. The chances of her finding her way back to the abbey on her own were very slim. But she did not think she could wait any longer for someone to come after her. Alexander could not know what had happened to her. Who would have thought some old man claiming to be her grandfather would kidnap her and hold her hostage? She should have heeded her father’s warning about not leaving the convent walls without an escort. Now she paid the price of her stupidity.
By the end of the third week there was still no sign of rescue, Gusty had not come up with a brilliant plan of her own and her hopes of escape faded. Because she refused to leave her room the only person she saw during those days was the maid, who brought Gusty’s meals and anything else she needed. Determined to show him she meant business, she refused to attend her grandfather on the numerous occasions he had requested her presence at mealtime.
On one particularly boring afternoon as she sat on the window seat, staring out at the distant green hills, Gusty let her imagination fly. She pretended she could see Alexander on his great dapple stallion, coming up the hill and over the drawbridge to rescue her, as if he were Prince Charming in the happily ever after fairytale. In her mind she was about to rise and run to greet her beloved husband, but a knock sounded at her door and her lovely daydream dissipated.
She got to her feet and crossed to the door. She flung it open and frowned.
“What do you want?” she demanded.
Enoch MacKay stood in the hallway. She crossed her arms and waited for him to speak.
“I have some tidings I thought ye might like to hear.”
“Yes, what is it?”
H
e pushed past her into the room and looked around. As she watched him move to the hearth, his color seemed a little off. Was his hand trembling when he raised it to touch the corner of the canopy? He stood staring in the direction of the pile of pillows at the head of the bed. Gusty couldn’t tell for sure from where she stood but he seemed overwrought, shaken by some untold emotion.
“What’s wrong?” Her question, born of concern, lacked the usual sarcasm she adopted to hide her real feelings.
“’Tis nothing, lass.” He sighed deeply before he turned to face her. “‘Tis… I have not set foot in this room in over twenty years. This was your mother’s bedchamber. Not a soul has slept here since she left. Nothing has changed.”
“Oh.” Gusty had nothing to reply to his statement. The room gave her a safe and comfortable feeling and now she knew why. “Thank you.”
“For what, lass?”
“For letting me stay in Isabelle’s room.”
Enoch MacKay remained silent as he made his way to the open window and stared out over his lands. His thoughts were on the strong-willed, sharp-tongued woman who might someday be the leader of Clan MacKay. She was his heir, after all. He had disinherited both his daughters for their indiscretions of having birthed bastards, one without being wed, the other doing so while she was married to the mighty Sinclair. This granddaughter, no matter that she was a bastard, he would make his heir. His plans for her would put him back into favor with the king, gaining him a goodly fortune if he played his moves right. He fought to regain his composure before turning to face his willful granddaughter. “I have tidings, as I said before.”
“Yes, what is it?”
“Your husband is here.”
A trill of laughter broke from her lips and Gusty clapped her hands as if she was a child given an unexpected treat. Without thinking, she hugged her grandfather and kissed his withered old cheek.
“Thank you, Grandfather,” she whispered and then ran from the room. She flew down the hallway, only slowing as she descended the stairs to the main hall to find it filled to overflowing. Searching frantically through the crowd for Alexander’s familiar face, she suddenly realized just how much she had truly missed him.
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