Her Enemy Highlander

by Nicole Locke

  He didn’t even have the strength of a babe and the weight of the loss was crushing him further into the mud. ‘I need to eat,’ he demanded.

  ‘I have nae food; I didn’t know if—’ She shook her head. ‘I’ll go and look for something.’

  Caird was grateful when Mairead left for the woods. He didn’t know what she would find there, but it didn’t matter. Anything was better than nothing.

  His horse had supplies. Had she bargained for those as she must have done for her life and his?

  The risks she took; how she must have feared.

  And the jewel. Gone. He tried to concentrate on it. But all he could see was him lying on the ground, Mairead over him. Her bargaining with a monster.

  He had deserted her, and she had faced the Englishman alone.

  After everything they had been through together, he’d lost the Jewel of Kings to an Englishman. As if Scotland, as if he, could take another loss after Dunbar. For a moment, he had held Scotland’s hope—his brother’s salvation—and now it was gone. The Clan of Colquhoun would weep at his folly.

  * * *

  Mairead foraged for water and berries. The Englishman had given her a bare handful of food from Caird’s plentiful supplies. A handful. Enough for her since he hadn’t expected Caird to live. But she was grateful for that handful now. Berries were scant and her hands shook so she dropped more than she could hold. Caird was alive, but he didn’t appreciate what had happened. She had to make him understand.

  When she returned, Caird looked little better than he had before. But he had moved himself out of the puddle and was half sitting, the cloak stuffed behind him. He watched the fire she had built up after the Englishman left.

  ‘You moved?’ She knelt beside him to inspect the wound. ‘You could have undone everything.’ There was no damage, but it didn’t stop her irritation. She pooled the berries on leaves next to him and threw the water skein and oatcakes in his lap.

  Caird frowned and picked at the bounty before him.

  ‘This is all I could find. I never learned to build traps.’ She waved towards the woods. ‘But there’s water nearby. I already had my fill. This is for you.’

  He took the skein, but didn’t drink. Instead he sloshed the remainder from side to side. His movements were slow, methodical and she knew he was weighing his words as he weighed the water. ‘Was he alone?’

  Not the question she expected. ‘Aye, at least, I didn’t see anyone else.’ She sat beside him.

  ‘What happened?’ he asked.

  Caird’s expression was grim. She could see a burning frustration there, but also a heaviness that burdened his broad shoulders. The gem. Always that ugly rock. But she’d take his arrogance over this Caird. This one she didn’t understand.

  ‘I need to tell you—’

  Caird glanced at her, but it was enough to stop her words. She was frustrated, but his silence was tumultuous, and it stormed against her. Shaking her head against it, she rallied. She had to tell him. ‘He took the gem, but I gave him the horse. I hope it’ll be enough to—’

  ‘Nae,’ Caird interrupted, his voice low, but not soft. ‘After you put the blade to me. After I abandoned you, when did that monster appear?’

  She didn’t understand his questions, but she thought she understood his anger. She’d lost the gem.

  Maybe she could have done more to save it. Maybe, if she could have thought, but when faced with the Englishman, she could barely comprehend anything above her fear. Now the gem was gone, and Caird needed facts and answers. She must tell him from the beginning.

  Tucking her legs underneath her, she grabbed some berries. She’d eaten enough for a belly ache, but they gave her something to do with her hands.

  ‘It was the fire,’ she said. ‘He found us because of the fire.’

  Caird’s hands showed white on the skein before he released them.

  ‘Then he laughed,’ she said. Ice-cold fear had flushed through her at the sound. She knew then that, despite Caird killing those men and their race to escape, it had all been for naught. They were going to die and Caird would never wake to realise it.

  But she had been awake and for a frozen moment she’d felt the cowardly desire to close her eyes as well.

  ‘He laughed,’ she said again. ‘He seemed very pleased and I was surprised when he sheathed his sword.’

  She had stood then, refusing to kneel before the Englishman. He had been gleeful at her defiance, while Caird lay wounded at her feet.

  ‘He spoke of my ignorance about the gem and your imminent death.’

  She breathed in, held it. ‘He didn’t think you’d survive.’ She exhaled, getting the worst of the story out. ‘I didn’t either. You were very pale and there was so much blood.’

  She tried to give him a little smile, some encouragement since he was, indeed, alive and well, but Caird didn’t look at her and his expression remained unreadable.

  Not knowing what else to do, she nibbled a berry. It wasn’t sweet. ‘He said he had won as though it was some game. Your fate made nae difference to him. He had taken a great prize from you, so he’d won the game. I didn’t contradict him; I didn’t dare stop his speech. I thought as long as he kept talking, he wasn’t killing me.’

  Caird made some sound deep in his chest, but he did not look at her. The colour in his cheeks had improved. He would live. He would live and things would be better now.

  She took in a shaking breath. It had taken all her strength to stay upright before the Englishman. She’d been petrified; the trembling in her body weakening her knees to the point she thought she’d collapse.

  ‘I didn’t care if he won; I knew I’d lost. I’d lost everything.’ Her mouth was dry, so she ate another berry. It was sweet, juicy and she had trouble swallowing it.

  ‘Then...he smiled again. He smiled and I didn’t ken the words he was saying because his pale eyes went black.’

  Caird looked at her then. ‘He hurt you.’

  Her hand fluttered, but trembled too much for her to gesture properly. ‘Nae, he didn’t touch me, didn’t even threaten me.’

  ‘You expected his sword.’

  ‘Aye,’ she whispered. She looked around her, trying to shake her thoughts. ‘But he was telling me I’d live. All I had to do was hand over the dagger and gem as well as your sword and he would let me keep some food.’ She lifted her chin, meeting his eyes. ‘So I did. I gave them to him.’

  He searched her eyes. ‘You expect me to be angry with you?’

  She did. For days they’d been fighting over the gem and dagger. He was angry now. She felt his rage.

  ‘How could I be disappointed in you?’ he asked.

  She didn’t understand his surprise and she didn’t understand the way he was looking at her now. As if he was searching her soul.

  Avoiding his eyes, she looked at the fire instead. ‘Then he just left,’ she said, ignoring his question. ‘Not believing he’d keep his word, I watched him go.’ Talking of the Englishman was easier than answering Caird’s questions. Even if she wasn’t telling him all.

  The Englishman hadn’t just gone. When she’d handed him the pouch his face had held such triumphant evil. He’d closed his eyes as if he relished tying the pouch to his belt. For all his killing, that one moment of watching his pure pleasure had frightened her the most.

  Shaking herself again, she looked at Caird. ‘And then I knew,’ she said.

  ‘You knew what?’ he asked, when she didn’t finish.

  ‘It’s more than just costly; the gem means something.’

  Caird blinked, surprise flashing in his eyes.

  ‘Aye, it means a great deal,’ she said. For days she’d been guessing the importance of the gem, but the look on the Englishman’s face and Caird’s surprise confirmed it.

 
‘It’s gone now.’ Caird shrugged, his voice grim.

  Since the Englishman had arrived, she’d been through every emotion that had ever existed. But only this Colquhoun could bring her frustration to the forefront with such speed.

  ‘You haven’t heard a word I’ve spoken!’

  Caird was angry and disappointed at the loss of the gem, but she had done her best to safeguard it, and he hadn’t listened to a word she’d said.

  ‘I know you’re frustrated, but you have to hear me now!’ She stood and brushed the dirt from her torn gown. ‘I knew then that the gem meant more than its price, so I gave him your horse.’

  Caird’s body stilled. ‘You bargained away my horse?’

  ‘Greedy devil that he was, aye. Yours was obviously trained and had supplies.’

  ‘You gave him the jewel and offered the better horse?’

  Mairead waited for him to laugh, or at least grin at her cleverness. She hadn’t much to save them, hadn’t a chance of surviving if she attacked the Englishman, but she had used her Buchanan guile and wit to save their necks.

  But Caird didn’t laugh; he didn’t grin. There was nothing but obstinate disbelief and anger in his expression. She was tempted to just let him rot with his confusion because she was tiring of explaining herself.

  ‘Aye, your best horse!’ She capitulated. ‘The one that’s so faithful, all you have to do is whistle and it halts for you? The one that is sick and can’t go very far?’ She crossed her arms again. ‘You know...that horse.’

  Jaw slackening, Caird’s eyebrows rose. Oh, she was glad she hadn’t let him rot without telling him. Because this time, she knew a Buchanan had bested a Colquhoun.

  * * *

  The anger and hopelessness drained from Caird so suddenly, he was glad he sat else he’d have fallen. He was certainly dizzy as he comprehended Mairead’s declaration.

  She’d lied, fabricated some story and that monster had believed her. He took a horse that couldn’t possibly travel far. It would slow him down, maybe even stop him. A Buchanan had saved them.

  His chest swelled, ached. His breath kept expanding until he couldn’t hold it in any more.

  Caird let out a strangled, choking sound. When concern filled Mairead’s eyes, it tipped the balance of his control.

  Caird laughed. Great rolling waves of laughter. He couldn’t stop it, didn’t want to. Never before in his life had he laughed like this, with freedom, with shock, with absolutely no control.

  For this laugh required true emotion, surprise and a freedom he’d never experienced. Rightly so, for how could he be this free or this surprised when he hadn’t known Mairead before? Mairead, who had stayed and saved them.

  Grabbing an oatcake, he asked, ‘Which way did he go?’

  It might be too late and he was weak. By the time they would be able to travel, the jewel might have changed hands, but they had a chance. She had given them the chance.

  ‘You laughed,’ she blurted out.

  He took a bite. ‘Aye.’

  He felt like doing it again. To watch the wonderment continue on her face. He couldn’t stop smiling.

  ‘I didn’t know Colquhouns did that.’

  His brothers and sister laughed all the time. He didn’t know he could do it. She had given that laughter to him.

  It was a wondrous thing. The jewel might not be lost and they were alive. This impulsive, never-think-things-through woman was responsible. A Buchanan was responsible.

  It was as if he suddenly arrived at a different place in the world.

  He watched as her astonishment was quickly replaced by ire again. Taking another bite of oatcake, he waited to be surprised, to be intrigued.

  Mairead crossed her arms. ‘I’m not telling you which way he went until you tell me about the gem.’

  ‘I cannot.’

  ‘Then we go nowhere,’ she said.

  Intriguing, and stubborn. ‘He let you live because you didn’t know.’ He broke the last oatcake and offered her half.

  She shook her head. ‘You need to eat all the oatcakes. You still doona look well. If he finds you alive, do you think he’d let me go again?’

  He took a bite. It had been a miracle they’d lived at all. Only a madman would have let them go when they were absolutely defenceless, but posed a threat. A man crazy or one supremely confident Caird would die.

  Yet even in the face of such an adversary, Mairead had kept her lying tongue and her wits to save them. He would have bled out and died without her.

  Now she was demanding he trust her, when he had too many questions. ‘Why did you do it?’ he asked. ‘Why did you stay?’

  She looked away, and shrugged. ‘What else was I supposed to do? You’re an irritating, arrogant, kidnapping Colquhoun. But a dead one?’ Shaking her head, she continued, ‘With your family missing you, you’d even be more trouble.’

  Caird frowned and brushed away the crumbs. What she said was true. If he didn’t return, his family, with swords drawn, would pursue the entire Buchanan clan. But her reasonable reply didn’t sit well with him.

  Wanting more, he started to ask another question, just as the sun broke through the clouds. No longer hidden in pale light, he could see dark shadows under Mairead’s reddened eyes and her skin was more ashen than pale. Her hair that had once taunted him with wildness lay limply around her; leaves, caked mud and blood weighed it down. Part of it looked burnt. She was exhausted, and he shouldn’t press for more.

  Yet she intrigued him. She had stayed and protected him. She’d given them a chance.

  In the face of everything, when he had already vowed he’d do anything to stop this war, to stop his brother getting hurt again, did that mean also trusting a Buchanan?

  Mairead began to pace. Her face and hands were smudged with dirt and soot. Her clothes were torn from the flood.

  No, it was more than a rational choice to tell her. He owed her an explanation. But this had to be done right and he needed to sort his words carefully.

  ‘It is the Jewel of Kings,’ he said with all the reverence he could give it. He waited for there to be wonder and surprise or even regret on her face.

  She did turn, but he saw none of the expressions he expected.

  ‘I doona ken what that is,’ she replied.

  How could it be? As children, he and his brothers had played the game. Hadn’t she or her brother? Her brother.

  ‘Your brother’s dead,’ he said, remembering all.

  She closed her eyes briefly. ‘Killed,’ she corrected.

  ‘The Englishman?’

  She nodded her head.

  There were too many questions. ‘How?’

  A myriad of emotions flooded her face. He recognised them now. Pain, desperation, guilt.

  He didn’t understand the guilt. ‘How?’ he insisted. ‘If your brother owned the dagger, how did he die?’

  She jerked and crossed her arms. He had startled her with his question. Was this her lie?

  ‘I’ll not tell you now,’ she answered. ‘Now we talk about the gem.’

  ‘Your brother had to know about the jewel.’ He owed her much, but this was no time for secrets.

  She loosened her arms and clenched her fists to her sides. Her eyes looked pointedly at him. ‘If he did, he didn’t have time to tell me.’

  ‘What do you mean, didn’t have time to tell you?’

  Mairead’s expression turned mulish.

  This was her secret. He felt a million times the fool to be part of this lie. ‘But—’

  She shook her head. ‘I’ll tell you nothing now. That Englishman threatened me, threatened you. I need to know why my brother died. I need to understand this gem.’

  She had called him stubborn, had called him arrogant. Now, just now, she was those things
and more.

  He knew what was at stake here. His country falling; Malcolm’s near death. But what did it mean to her? From the tilt of her chin, he knew he wouldn’t get an answer from her now and she was right, she did need to understand. He’d have to compromise.

  He’d never given a description of the jewel before. He didn’t know where to start. With the legend? It had been forged before mankind by the very elements around them. Then it was given as a symbol of peace to the warring clans. But, like all powers, it had been ill-used over the centuries by greedy lairds. There were different meanings for the jewel as well. It was a legend and stories changed as to its true power.

  Too many words were needed to describe it and even then she might not understand. He barely understood himself and he had been raised with the legend. But only one of the legends, one of its powers, held his interest. He had to keep to the present.

  ‘You know the Stone of Scone?’ he asked.

  ‘It’s used for the king’s ceremonies.’

  He nodded. ‘To give future kings their crown,’ he continued. ‘The Jewel of Kings isn’t a tradition for ceremony. That gem, that jewel, makes kings.’

  She became still.

  ‘Whoever holds it holds the heart of Scotland,’ he said. ‘All clans will bow to that power. Nae matter who holds it.’

  ‘So if a Scottish clan has it...’ Mairead’s eyes glinted, her brow furrowed. ‘After Dunbar, I didn’t think Scotland had any chance,’ she said.

  ‘None of us did,’ he said.

  ‘I didn’t think such a jewel existed,’ she whispered.

  ‘None of us did,’ he repeated.

  Mairead couldn’t stay still. She had known the gem was important, but she couldn’t comprehend, even now, just how important. No wonder the Englishman had murdered for it. She shuddered.

  Everything made sense now. Caird’s incredulousness, his relentless need to know why she claimed it was hers and not believing her. So he’d kidnapped her because she claimed it was her brother’s.

  She glanced over her shoulder. Caird was waiting, keeping his silence, as she knew he would be. It was her turn to speak and it would not be easy.