by Gwyn Brodie
"Think naught of it. Fergus and myself can sleep in here. I'll find ye something to wear, until yer own things are dry." She opened a door and went into the room she'd spoken of, then returned. "I left the clothing on the bed. Once ye're changed, rest yerself fer a bit, while I prepare a meal to break our fast."
"You are most kind." Kila went inside and closed the door. Light from a small window lit the room, which, though tiny, was clean and tidy. A colorful quilt covered the bed, along with a coverlet of furs, and a thick, wool rug covered a large portion of the floor. She shrugged out of her wet shift, and slipped the dry one over her head. Though it was faded, it had been carefully mended in several places. The arisaid was loose, but at least it was warm and dry.
After hanging her shift and stockings over a chair to dry, she lay down on the bed and pulled the warm furs up to her chin. Slowly the cold left her bones, and her shivering ceased. Kila was certain, if not for her, Duncan would have continued on to Blackstone, and not placed his life in jeopardy by being there with her now. What if Colin Monro found them? Would he challenge Duncan to a duel? Or would he do much worse?
DUNCAN STOOD BESIDE the bed looking down at Kila. She'd slept through both the morning and midday meals. Several times throughout the day, he'd felt her head for fever, but had found none. More than likely it was exhaustion that had kept her asleep for so long.
"Kila?"
She opened her eyes, and smiled sleepily up at him.
"The supper meal is ready, if you wish to eat."
"Aye, I'm starved half to death." She stretched, then threw back the warm furs, and got out of bed.
He grinned. She'd live. He kissed her on the forehead and followed her from the room.
Maggie smiled, as she spooned parsnips into several bowls. "Ye look well-rested, lass."
Kila nodded. "Aye, and hungry, as well." She took a seat at the table, inhaling the wonderful aroma of the oatcakes and fresh bread sitting across from her. "Everything looks and smells delicious, Maggie."
The woman blushed, and appeared delighted by the compliment. "Please, help yerselves."
After supper was finished, Kila helped Maggie straighten up, then Duncan and Kila bid them goodnight.
She undressed down to the shift, and slipped beneath the quilt, where Duncan waited.
He drew her against him and gently kissed her. "I love you, lass." He nuzzled her neck, as his hand found it way beneath the shift, then slowly moved across her bare skin, causing her to ache with desire.
"I love you, as well. Do you ken how much I desire you, Duncan?" she whispered.
He groaned and dipped his tongue into the hollow between her breasts. He lifted his head and looked into her eyes. "No more than I desire you, lass. I want you so badly my bones ache, but, as I've said before, I'll no' compromise you until we're wed." He grinned. "Even if it kills me."
She chuckled and snuggled back against him, realizing just how much he really did want her. Duncan was so exhausted, he almost immediately fell asleep, but after having slept for most of the day, Kila lay awake, listening to the rain dripping off the thatched roof into the puddles below, pretending the two of them were already wed and lying in their marriage bed. She prayed it would someday be so, for how could she spend the rest of her life without Duncan by her side?
THE FOLLOWING MORNING, after breaking their fast with hot porridge sweetened with honey, Duncan seemed anxious for them to be on their way. Maggie and Fergus stood in the doorway, as he lifted Kila onto Tearlach's back.
Kila smiled. "Much thanks, for everything."
Duncan tossed Fergus a small pouch of coins.
Fergus' eyes widened and Maggie gasped.
'''Tis far too much ye've given us," he said, after peering inside the pouch.
Duncan grinned. "Nay. Take it, and be welcome to it." He placed the oatcakes, Maggie had sent along, into his pack, then swung up behind Kila.
"Goodbye," Kila said, as they rode away.
"Have a care," Maggie shouted after them.
Though the rain had stopped, a cool wind blew in from the North. Kila tightened her cloak around her. "Is Blackstone Castle much farther, Duncan?"
He brushed his lips against her cheek, sending a heated shiver over her skin. "Nay, lass. 'Tis quite close as the hawk flies, but I plan to travel through the wood, instead of out in the open when 'tis possible. I dinnae wish anyone catching sight of us from a distance. But I promise you we'll be feasting at the high table with Laird Alex MacPherson afore you ken it."
Kila nodded, and settled herself against Duncan's chest. She felt safer in his arms, than anywhere else she could remember, save on her father's knee as a child. Aye, this man would protect her, of that, she had no doubt.
They stopped for a midday meal of oatcakes, and drank from a small waterfall gushing down the side of a steep rock face, before continuing on. Thankfully, the weather was in their favor—for a change—and the warmth of the sun felt wonderful against her skin.
Duncan carefully scanned the landscape, as they left the wood and headed across a wide open meadow. High up on a mountain side, a red stag with a massive rack of antlers, watched over a herd of about twenty hinds and their young, and warily eyed them. Perceiving no immediate danger, he went back to eating the leaves of a rowan tree.
Duncan didn't like being out in the open, but he had no other choice if they planned to reach Blackstone. They'd been lucky, thus far, that the men he'd heard the day before hadn't taken the same direction, and he prayed their luck would hold out.
Tearlach suddenly tossed his head and snorted. Horses! He turned the stallion right and headed toward a hillside thickly covered with bracken fern, then slid to the ground, taking Kila with him. Two clicks of his tongue and the horse sank into the tall ferns and lay still.
Kila's eyes were wide with fear, and she trembled, as he pulled her down beside him.
He touched his finger to his lips for her to be silent, then slipped his broadsword from its sheath and waited.
As hoof beats drew nearer, he peered through a small opening in the ferns. Four Monro guards were headed their way. More than likely they had split up in order to cover more ground. And unfortunately, they were headed in the very same direction Duncan had intended to travel. Once the sound of hoof beats faded away, he lay back in the ferns and pulled Kila against him. She was shaking like an autumn leaf in the wind. "They've gone, lass."
She smiled weakly. "I was so frightened we'd be found out."
He pushed her hair away from her face. "I'm sorry."
"Dinnae be sorry. 'Twas you who kept us safe."
Duncan smiled and pressed his lips against her cheek. "We'll stay here for a few minutes more—just in case they decide to backtrack. Unfortunately, they’ve forced us to take a different course. 'Twill be slow going, and take several more hours for us to reach Blackstone Castle."
She slipped her arms around his neck and looked up at him. "As long as we're together, I dinnae mind how long it takes."
He covered her mouth with his and kissed her passionately, then lifted his head. "'Tis time to go." He stood, then helped her up. With another click of his tongue, Tearlach got to his feet.
Kila was amazed at how well Tearlach obeyed Duncan. "You've trained him well."
He helped her onto the horse, then mounted behind her. "He was easy to train," he said, patting Tearlach.
A feeling of uneasiness plagued Duncan, and he kept his eyes and ears open, as they rode back across the open meadow.
Suddenly, six Monro guards rode out of the wood a few yards ahead of them and Kila screamed.
Tightening his hold on her, Duncan swung Tearlach around and straight for Blackstone, and the four guards he'd seen earlier. Perhaps they'd taken a direction away from the castle, leaving the way open for him and Kila—if he could but lose the guards chasing them.
An arrow whizzed past, then a second, but the third grazed Duncan's shoulder. He clenched his teeth against the pain, and kept silent, not wishing Ki
la to know he'd been injured. Their only hope of losing them was to get to the gorge. A path, known only to a few, ran along the steep rock face and ended at the river bank. Aye, it would be dangerous, but what other choice did they have?
He reined Tearlach into the wood to his right, and soon he could hear the roar of the river. The guards weren't far behind, but he didn't dare look back, for fear of riding over the cliff's edge. He brought the horse to a halt, and jumped down. He could feel Kila shaking as he helped her to the ground.
"Duncan, you're bleeding!"
"'Tis naught," he said, drawing his broadsword, as he anxiously searched for the path he knew was there.
"'Tis no use, MacDonell, ye've nowhere left to go," The guard in front shouted. "Throw down yer weapons."
Duncan shook his head. "Nay. I'll no' be going back, and neither will she."
Tears ran down Kila's cheeks. "Please, Duncan. I'd rather marry Monro than see you dead."
"I'd rather be dead than see you married to him," he declared, his gaze locked on the guards.
"Then we'll take ye by force," the guard snarled. "Our orders are to capture you, and that's what we'll do."
With his broadsword in one hand and a dirk in the other, Duncan watched them dismount and draw their weapons. "Get behind Tearlach, Kila, and stay there, no matter what happens."
Kila wiped her eyes, then reluctantly did as he asked, praying he'd not be injured—or killed.
They came at Duncan from all sides, and he fought them off, injuring or disarming one after the other, until only the guard in charge remained.
"Watch my back, lass," he said, keeping his broadsword held high.
A guard who'd been injured, staggered to his feet, and picked up his dirk.
With the clang of steel ringing in her ears, and heart pounding, she grabbed up a large branch and struck him over the head.
He moaned, then dropped to the ground and lay still.
Kila prayed she'd not killed him, and sighed with relief when she saw his chest rise and fall. She turned her attention back to Duncan, who now carried a gash across his forearm. He still held his sword, which meant it wasn't deep.
The guard let out a roar and came at him hard.
Duncan jumped out of the way to avoid his blade, lost his footing and went over the edge.
Kila screamed, then buried her face in her hands and fell to her knees. With a shattered heart, she wept, and prayed Duncan had somehow survived the fall.
A guard gently took her arm and pulled her to her feet. "Come, m'lady. No one could have lived through such a drop."
Another guard went to fetch Tearlach, but the horse suddenly spun around and galloped away.
Her eyes widened. Had Duncan signaled him? Or was it just wishful thinking on her part?
CHAPTER TWELVE
Duncan coughed to clear his lungs, as he crawled out of the water and onto the river bank, his breath coming in great gulps. When he'd realized he was about to fall, he'd thrown himself away from the cliff, praying he'd not hit the rocks. Instead, he had hit the water hard and sank to the river's depths. He had to struggle to get back to the top, and had he not been a strong swimmer, he would not have survived.
After catching his breath, he got to his feet and walked along the base of the cliff, searching for the way up. If he didn't find it before nightfall, he'd have to wait until the morrow, which would put even more distance between himself and Kila.
He found his broadsword wedged between two stones, but still intact, and his targe nearby. He'd be in much need of them, once he caught up to Monro's guards. He had to find Tearlach, and prayed the horse had heard the whistle that signaled him to run. If the guards had seized the stallion beforehand, Duncan would have a hell of a time finding Kila on foot.
Gloaming wasn't far off when he finally located the overgrown path. He took his time climbing, for he didn't wish to end up back in the river—or worse. By the time he reached the top, the full moon had begun it ascent.
Duncan walked away from the gorge, listening. Hearing nothing out of the ordinary, he let out a loud whistle, calling Tearlach. He began walking in the direction he knew they'd take Kila, stopping, ever so often, to whistle and listen. If he didn't find Tearlach, he'd be forced to borrow—or steal—a horse, or else he'd never catch up to her before they reached Whitestag.
With the moon lighting his way, Duncan walked for several hours, with no sign of the horse. Along the ridge to his left, a lone wolf howled, and was quickly answered by several others. The animals were still some distance away, but it'd not take long for them to pick his scent up on the wind. He tightly gripped the hilt of his broadsword, and quickened his pace.
Sometime later, while kneeling beside a small loch to quench his thirst, a noise to his right brought him to his feet. Had the wolves been tracking him?
He drew his weapon and waited.
KILA SHOVED THE GUARD's hand from her thigh a third time. "I told you to keep your filthy hands off of me," she spat.
The head of Monro's guards, Dubh, she'd heard him called, chuckled. "I'm certain ye didnae say that to MacDonell, did ye, lass?"
Tears sprang into her eyes at the mention of Duncan. She prayed he still lived and had been the reason Tearlach had suddenly disappeared. She held on to that hope, as they rode farther away from him and ever closer to Whitestag.
Dubh slipped his hand beneath her cloak and tried to grab her breast.
She gasped, and knocked his arm away. "I wish to ride with someone else."
"Nay, lass, you'll be riding we me and no one else," he whispered against her hair. "I like having ye between my thighs, but I'd much rather be between yers."
She grimaced at the thought. "I'll be certain to tell your laird you said as much, once we reach Whitestag."
He grabbed the side of her neck, digging his fingers in her flesh until she thought she might faint from the pain. "Ye'll do no such thing, ye wee whore, or else he'll find ye dead." He let go. "Why would he believe ye? Ye're a liar, and he kens it."
"I told the truth, if 'tis any of your concern," she said, rubbing her aching neck.
He snorted. "If ye'd spent the night with me, ye'd have been well bedded. Of that ye can be certain," he said, keeping his voice low.
"Thank the saints, I didnae." Dubh didn't reply, and Kila hoped he'd leave her be. She had to think of a way to escape and find Duncan. He could be lying on that cliff, badly injured and in need of her help. She looked up at the full moon. Since leaving the gorge, they'd only stopped briefly to rest the horse and to allow the animals and themselves to quench their thirst. As long as they kept traveling, there was no way she could escape.
The guard, who had spoken kindly to her earlier, drew his mount up beside them. "I ken this place. There's a clearing just up ahead—near a small loch. 'Twould be a good place to camp for the night."
"I'm the one to decide whether 'tis or 'tisnae, in case ye've forgotten," Dubh ranted. "Ye'll do well to remember that."
"Aye, Dubh," the young man said, before dropping back with the others.
"Insolent whelp," he growled.
Kila breathed a sigh of relief, when he decided to make camp in the clearing. Once a fire was built, she found a seat nearby to warm herself.
The young guard handed her an oatcake.
"Much thanks." She ate every bite, and he gave her another, which she ate just as quickly. "I'm most gracious for your generosity. I was quite hungry."
"Ye're welcome, m'lady," he said, adding more wood to the fire.
"What is your name?"
"Willie Monro," he said, then lay down several feet away, wrapped himself in his plaid, and was soon snoring softly.
The rest of the guards, except for Dubh and the one on watch, found their beds.
Before she found her own, she had to relieve herself. She rose to her feet and headed toward the thick underbrush, with the fire lighting her way.
Dubh stepped in front of her. "Where do ye think yer going?"
; "To relieve myself, if you must ken," she snapped.
"I'll be waiting right here, and if ye're no back soon, I'll be coming after ye."
Once she was finished, she quickly returned, for she didn't wish to find herself alone with him. She'd already seen the sort of man he was. She drew her cloak tightly around her and pulled up her hood, before choosing a place to rest near the fire. Though exhausted, Kila forced herself to stay awake. Once the others were asleep, she'd slip past the guard and head back to the gorge.
Kila opened her eyes to see Dubh's lustful gaze on her, and a shiver crawled up her spine. She didn't relish another day of riding with him, for he had grown much bolder with his touch and words as they rode. She had to discover a way to escape, for Duncan's sake—as well as her own.
DUNCAN READIED HIS broadsword and waited.
Twigs and leaves snapped and rustled as the underbrush was shoved aside, and out walked Tearlach.
He sighed with relief, sheathed his weapon, and threw his arms around the stallion's neck. "You dinnae ken how glad I am to see you, lad." For the first time since falling over the cliff, he had hope of finding Kila before she reached Whitestag.
The horse whinnied.
"Hungry are you?" He took the pouch of oats from his pack, which he shared with Tearlach.
A wolf howled, then another, causing the hair to stand up on the back of Duncan's neck. They were close, less than half a mile away and more than likely tracking the horse. He shoved the remainder of the oats back into his pack, then mounted. He wanted to put as much distance as possible between them and the wolves.
Duncan glanced up at the sky. It would be dawn soon, and he could cover more ground in the daylight—but so could Monro's men. He prayed Kila was well, and that her being betrothed to their laird would keep her safe.
After a time, the path he was on split into two. He dismounted and led Tearlach, keeping his gaze on the ground, and soon came across the tracks of several horses. Studying the prints in the soft earth, he found what he'd been searching for. One horse sank deeper into the damp earth than the others, telling him it had been carrying double. At least now he knew which path he should take, and turned right.