The Imposter

by Jenna Stone

  “Thank you,” I responded smiling sheepishly. I was accustomed to getting compliments about the unusual shade of my auburn hair. It was a shade somewhere in between red and brown, and had flecks of gold running through it that were more apparent in the direct sunlight. I had always thought that the color of my hair was a rare blessing. It not only set me apart from other girls, but it was stunning against the contrast of my pale skin, and really highlighted the blue of my eyes. Yes, my hair was my favorite feature, and I was for some reason glad that Nathan liked it too.

  “You’re not what I expected either,” I said half-smiling as I looked up at Nathan.

  “And just what did ye expect?”

  “Barbarians,” I said, now suddenly embarrassed by my admission. I felt my face flush with color.

  “Hmmph,” he grumbled. “I hope that ye’ll be pleasantly surprised, lass. The damn English never give us much in the way of compliment.”

  “I hope so too,” I muttered in response, hoping that the Scotsmen would not be as terrible as my father had described them to be.

  Nathan stepped forward and offered me his hand, helping me up from the fallen log. “I think that it’s time for us tae be going, lass. Follow me,” he said, huge hand supporting me at the elbow and leading me through the trees back towards the road. The sinking feeling in my stomach reappeared at the prospect of looking at the dead people again.

  When we reached the edge of the road we encountered a much different scene. The coach had been hitched up to two horses, and one of Nathan’s comrades was sitting in the driver’s seat, reigns in hand. I couldn’t help but notice the three mounds of freshly turned earth on the side of the road. Evidence of what had become of the victims of this heinous crime.

  I quickly looked away from the graves. I in haled sharply and drew my line of sight back to the coach. Nathan stepped forward and opened the door of the coach, then looked at me with an outstretched hand and invited me inside.

  “No!” I balked, surprised by the emotion in my voice. The thought of riding in that coach, where three people had just been murdered was insane.

  Nathan quickly shut the door. His eyebrows raised in shock as he interpreted my response.

  “Come on, lass. Ye can ride with me. It’s na far,” he strode over to a large black horse and untied its reins from a low branch on a tree at the edge of the road. The horse whickered in response to his master and seemed eager to be going. Nathan mounted the horse in one swift movement, and then held a hand down to me. I grabbed Nathan’s huge hand, and he hoisted me upwards, settling me onto his lap. There was a chill in the late evening air and he unfastened the cloak from around his shoulders and settled it about mine.

  The coach had already lurched forward down the road, followed by the three other large men on horseback.

  “I’m glad yer safe, lass, and I’m sorry for what ye saw today. Rest now; it’s just a short bit of a ride.”

  His warm hand gently pushed my head against his massive chest as he kicked the horse into motion. I gave into his invitation, and found that the rhythmic motion of the horse’s stride soon lulled me into a calmer state. My body had been thrumming with adrenaline from the moment that I awoke this morning, nearly naked and alone in the forest.

  I am mine. I chanted over and over in my head as I let exhaustion overtake me. I will decide my own fate.

  Chapter Two

  “We’re here, lass,” Nathan said, gently shaking my shoulder. I had fallen asleep, and I mentally scolded myself for letting my guard down to such a degree given my present circumstances. I had trouble waking from my sleepy haze. Trouble reconciling where I was.

  As my mind came crashing back to reality, my eyes flew open to see large stone walls rise before me, glowing silvery in the moonlight. There were two sentries posted beside a large wooden door, each man holding a lethal looking sword. These massive men were also dressed in traditional Scottish clothing, red plaids striped with green and black gathered with large broaches at their shoulders. Most of the men that I had encountered had beards and long hair, giving them a frankly barbaric look. The guards moved in unison each opening one of the massive doors to allow us entry to the castle.

  “Where are we?” I asked, suddenly fearful.

  “The keep, lass. Castle McClain. This is tae be yer home.” Nathan said, guiding his horse through the gate.

  Nathan’s words struck fear into my core. I dug my fingernails into the leather of the saddle, fighting off the sense of panic rising in my stomach. I needed to find a way out of here and made mental notes of my surroundings, marking exits and starting an inventory of ways to escape. I vowed to escape when the first opportunity presented itself. I had just escaped one trap and been thrown directly into another.

  A teenage boy ran to greet us, gangly as a string bean, awkwardly grabbing the reins of Nathan’s horse. Nathan dismounted swiftly still carrying me in his arms.

  “Can ye walk? Ye’ve been sleeping a long time,” Nathan said in a soft caring voice.

  After our initial encounter in the forest I had decided that I liked Nathan very much, with his bushy beard and eyebrows and kind brown eyes. I could tell from the manner in which Nathan spoke to me that not only did he like me in return, but he had taken on the role of my protector, having bonded with me in the forest. I was glad that it had been Nathan who had found me rather than one of the other brutes that traveled with us. They seemed indifferent to me, and were not only unfriendly, but their actions indicated that I was a burden to them.

  “Sure,” I said, testing the strength of my legs, keeping one hand on Nathan’s arm for support. I stretched, taking in the scene around me. The stone walls loomed high above my head and my heart sank as I scanned the walls for possible exits. There were none that I could see. It appeared as if there was only one way into this castle, and one way out.

  I stuck to Nathan’s side as he led me inside the castle to an enormous room, lined with many large wooden tables. There was a small group of women sizing me up from across the room. I could feel their gossip lingering in the air even though they were now silent. I was afraid to leave Nathan’s side being that he had been kind to me so far. I peered around him and noticed that there was a roaring fire at the far side of the room, casting a somewhat inviting glow on the stone walls.

  “I’ll leave ye here now, mistress,” Nathan said as he pried my fingers off his arm.

  I hadn’t realized that I had been clinging to him, and was instantly embarrassed.

  “Where are you going?” I asked him, voice betraying me and trembling with desperation. I was alarmed at the prospect of my new friend leaving me alone to deal with the gossiping women. They way that they looked at me was unsettling.

  “I need tae go let the Laird ken that yer here, I’ll be back in no time,” he said encouragingly, picking up on the fact that I was nervous about him leaving me. “They’ll take good care of ye, get ye something more tae eat. Ye won’t even miss me.” He chuckled and backed slowly away from me as if he expected me to lunge at him at any moment.

  I shifted my gaze to the flock of women who were moving in on me from across the room. Nathan’s departure had been all the invitation that they needed to take over my care. My caretakers consisted of a group of middle aged women, clucking and stewing as they pulled me forth into the large room. They settled me at a wooden bench at the table nearest the fire.

  “Are ye hungry?” an older woman with gray hair secured in a bun at the nape of her neck asked with a distinct Scottish lilt.

  “Can we bring ye anything?” a second, younger looking woman clucked, nervously awaiting my reply.

  “Sit, sit,” a third woman pressed me down gently towards the bench.

  Their eyes scanned my face, all seeming anxious for my reply, clearly eager to cater to whatever I wished. I felt smothered by their overwhelming attention. They were trying to be welcoming, trying to set me at ease, but still I sensed their hesitance. As women often do, they were holding me at a safe dist
ance, gauging my character. I felt as though they were testing to see if I could be trusted.

  “Um, sure. I’d love some food, I’ve had a long day,” I smiled uncomfortably, eyes darting between the three women.

  “Food!” the plump older woman with the bun bellowed, and then faked a smile.

  As if she had been waiting for the signal, a young woman carrying a tray laden with bread, cheese and meat entered the great room. She smiled at me warmly but nervously as she approached. She was quite beautiful, strawberry blonde hair framed her lightly freckled face. She had bright hazel eyes and a friendly look about her that made me feel more at ease.

  “I’m Leti,” she said, setting down the tray on the wooden table and sitting down beside me on the bench. “Actually, that’s short for Leticia, but everyone calls me Leti.”

  “Kate,” I said with a tired, forced smile.

  “I know,” she met my eyes. “I’m sorry that your journey was, well…” she trailed off, not sure how to finish. “Hungry?” she asked, eyes darting towards the tray in invitation.

  Her glance was all of the invitation that I needed. I was starving. I reached for a slice of bread, slathered it with some butter, and took a very unlady-like bite.

  “I’m so sorry, Kate,” Leti blurted as I stuffed my face with the warm bread, dripping with fresh butter. She reached out and touched my arm stopping me mid bite. Her eyes searched mine. They were piercing green orbs flecked with gold.

  “Sorry about what?” I responded, feeling foolish as soon as the words had escaped my mouth. Clearly, she was trying to express her sorrow at the murder of my companions. I was sure that this news had spread quickly through whatever this place was.

  “Ohhh,” Leti responded, face draining of color. She smiled nervously and then bit her lower lip indicating that she was puzzled by my strange response to her condolences.

  “I’d rather not talk about what happened today,” I warned, trying to cover my blunder. It was true that I didn’t want to talk about the murders and as a matter-of-fact, I didn’t want to talk at all.

  Leti bit her lip again and looked away. She was fighting back tears.

  I stopped chewing and looked directly at her.

  “Has no one told ye, Kate?” she asked, searching my face for a glimmer of knowledge.

  “Told me what?” I prodded, swallowing my mouthful of bread in an unlady-like gulp.

  “The Laird, yer betrothed?” she questioned. My eyes bulged at the word “betrothed.” I waited, eyes bulging, willing her to go on. A sick feeling settled in the pit of my stomach.

  This cannot be happening.

  “He’s dead,” Leti finished her voice but a whisper. “My father is dead. Ye were tae be his wife.”

  I exhaled the breath that I hadn’t realized that I was holding. My eyes darted around the room, unwilling to look at the girl next to me. I could feel here eyes searching my face for a response.

  He’s dead. I’m still safe.

  Leti looked at me from under disapproving brows, her face scrunched visibly due to the lack of regard that I had given to her dead father. I hoped that my face didn’t show the relief that I felt.

  I resumed the chewing of my bread, unsure of what would be an appropriate response. The effort of retaining my rouse of composure was overwhelming. I felt the slight tremors of shock begin to shake in my hands and legs.

  “I’m sorry about your Father,” I said, taking a deep breath to calm myself.

  Fresh tears welled up in Leti’s eyes as she again reached out and grabbed my arm, squeezing slightly. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice trembling, relieved that I was finally acknowledging his death like any normal, sane person would. “He was a good man, and it was quite a shock to us all. The doctor says that his heart just failed,” she sniffled. “He just went to sleep and didn’t wake up the next morning.”

  “At least he wasn’t in pain,” I offered, trying to comfort this girl that I didn’t know. The wounds of losing her father unexpectedly were obviously fresh and still stinging.

  “Yer verra kind to try to comfort me after all that ye have been through today,” she smiled slightly, eyes red-rimmed from tears that she was trying to hold back.

  If she only knew what I’d been through today, I thought to myself. She wouldn’t believe half of it! I felt guilty as the thought crept into my mind that I was glad that this girl’s father was dead. Marriage was what I was running from. I must have the worst luck in the world. Running from one marriage only to narrowly elude another.

  “He would have liked ye verra much. I can tell ye that,” she smiled again, sniffling now as she battled to regain her composure. “My brothers have always said that I’m a good judge of character. I can tell right away that yer kind, thinking of others in spite of yer own troubles.”

  I took another bite of the delicious bread, chewing vigorously to avoid talking.

  “Speaking of brothers, Collin will want to speak with ye after ye have some nourishment. He’s my oldest brother, half-brother really. After Da’s passing, Collin’s the new Laird. I suppose that he’ll need to decide what to do with ye.”

  I didn’t like the statement “Decide what to do with you.” The reality of my predicament continued to settle in. I had accidentally stolen another woman’s identity, or at the very least been mistaken for Laird McClain’s betrothed and said nothing to remedy this mistake. I was in deep, deep trouble. I was resolute not to crumble and confess myself to the new Laird.

  Nathan appeared in the entry way to the great hall, and cleared his throat to get my attention. I smiled when I saw him. His face turned pink beneath his beard when he recognized that I was so happy to see him.

  “The Laird will see ye now, Mistress,” he announced, warm expression lingering on his ruddy face.

  I glanced at Leti, still chewing my last bite of bread methodically. I was weary to the bone and dreaded my looming meeting with “The Laird.” I had been warned in England about the intricacies and the politics of the Scottish Clan system.

  Leti reached in front of me and pulled the plate away from me, as if reading my intentions of grabbing just one more bite. “Better get going,” she instructed, scooting the plate further out of my reach. “Collin doesna like tae be kept waiting,” she said with a tone of warning in her voice as she stood, lifting the plate with one hand as she smoothed her skirts with the other. I was still hungry and had to resist the impulse to tackle her and claim my unfinished dinner.

  Instead, I followed her instructions. I stood and pushed myself reluctantly away from the table. My legs were shaking from either exhaustion or fear, or a bit of both. Nathan turned around without a word and strode from the great hall. I trudged after him mechanically. I followed him down a candle lit corridor and bumped unceremoniously into his backside when he stopped abruptly at a door on our right. He knocked against the heavy wooden door twice, and was greeted with a gruff “Enter,” from within.

  Nathan swung open the door and stood in the threshold, beckoning me to go into the room with a wave of his massive hand. I stepped forward, and was surprised by the solid thunk of the door closing behind me. Apparently this was to be a private meeting.

  Collin didn’t acknowledge my presence, but sat behind a massive oak desk, chestnut crowned head bent in concentration over a stack of papers. He was a huge man, even partially concealed behind his desk. My eyes were drawn to the shear size of his hands, one holding a paper that he was intently reading and the other sprawled across the desk.

  “Sit,” he commanded, not looking up. This was not an invitation, but an order.

  I obeyed reluctantly, and sat in a wooden chair facing his desk. I was suddenly unsure of what to do with my hands while I waited for him to speak to me. I settled on clasping my now sweaty palms together in an effort not to fidget, something that I often did when nervous. I had already made up my mind that I did not like Collin McClain.

  A moment passed in silence before he finally addressed me. He eluded an air o
f arrogance and power, even while sitting passively at his desk. His eyes rose from whatever he had been reading to meet mine. They were green and striking. He was a handsome man with strong, masculine features. I detested him strongly right from the start, and met his gaze with my feistiest glare. Two could play at this game.

  “Did ye see the men who attacked yer people?” he asked straight-forwardly. Apparently, Collin was not the type to beat around the bush and waste time with introductions or niceties.

  “No,” I responded, refusing to let the intensity with which he was examining me with those probing green eyes intimidate me.

  He leaned back in his chair, and folded his fingers together, thinking as he studied me. “How did ye escape the attack?” he questioned, eyes still boring holes into my skin, causing my heart to race and my body temperature to rise.

  “I don’t remember,” I said. I was not a practiced liar, but I hoped that confidence would bolster my story.

  “Sae ye mean tae tell me that ye remember nothing,” he said, separating his palms so that the tips of his fingers were touching those of his matching hand.

  “I know that I woke up in the forest right before Nathan found me. I knew that they were all dead. All that I can think of is that maybe I went into the trees to relieve myself and they were attacked while I was away. I must have come upon the scene and run back into the forest. Maybe I fainted,” I offered, still meeting his green eyes, refusing to be the first to look away.

  Collin McClain was a hard man to read. He sat expressionless, starting back at me, seeming to wait for me to continue.

  “I don’t remember,” I said. “In fact, I don’t remember much about myself at all,” I added as an extra defense measure against further questioning from Collin.

  “I see,” he said, watching me. “It was unwise of yer father tae send ye with only one guard. Yer lucky tae have escaped.”

  “He didn’t think that the journey would be so dangerous,” I lied, knowing nothing of the “father” that I was defending.