by Tarah Scott
“That you—” the lass’s eyes darkened. “You could no more wield that sword than I could.”
“I tried to tell them that,” Jillian agreed, “but they wouldna’ listen. Instead, they dragged me away.” Jillian gripped her hand. “They did not even close poor Jonathan’s eyes. Just left him there like that. God forgive me, I do not know if he got a proper burial.” “Jillian,” she began, but the girl cut her off.
“Do you think he went to Tir na nOg?”
His captive cast a puzzled look in his direction.
“The Land of the Ever Young,” he explained. “An ancient custom of the Gaels.”
“He was a good man,” Jillian went on. “I pray God his Imrama na Anam was good.”
Iain smiled to himself at the contradiction in Christian and pagan beliefs. “I feel certain his spiritual journey was as it should have been,” he said.
“Mayhap he will choose to return to the world of the living,” she said, her voice filled with the hope that comes only with youth.
“Aye,” Iain agreed, “he has that choice. But let us not forget, lass, we are still among the living, and I, for one, would like to know who did this to him.”
Jillian’s expression hardened. “Aye, laird. I want to know that most of all.”
“Fine then. Tell us the rest.”
“That is all I know.”
“Not quite all.”
She gave him a puzzled look.
“How is it we came to find you on MacPherson land?”
Jillian flushed. “Well, there was a trial—” “A trial?” the lass cut in.
“I was brought before the tribunal and they found me guilty of murder. Though, I do not understand how. No witnesses were called but those who found me at Jonathan’s side. I told them there was no time for me to have killed him. I had just arrived, and even Kevin could have said so. But they did not think it necessary to call him.”
“I can well imagine what that man would have said,” his captive said, her tone caustic.
“Lass,” Iain said.
She looked at him, and he shook his head.
“Well,” she said, “what happened after the sham—er, trial?”
“I was sentenced to death.”
“Death?”
“Lass,” Iain growled, “if you cease your interruptions, we may yet learn this story before the evening meal.”
She shot him a scathing look, but refrained from comment.
“You were sentenced to death,” Iain prodded and relaxed against the doorway once more.
“Aye, and would have died if not for—” Jillian clasped the lass’s hand. “You saved me mistress.” Fresh tears hovered on her lashes. “I do not know how to thank you. If Jonathan were here, he would give you anything he had.”
The lass smiled grimly. “It was worth knowing we thwarted your attackers. But it is not I who offer you safety, but Lord MacPherson.”
Iain lifted a brow at the hearing her use his title. So, she was not entirely oblivious to the power his rank held. Do not fool yourself, man. Such things remain a bargaining tool that hold no sway with her. Still, he noted with frustration, she had always known he possessed sufficient power to hold her prisoner indefinitely. It was, he realized, as if the authority he wielded was held against him.
“But as the laird’s wife I should thank you also.”
Iain’s mind snapped to attention at the unexpected statement made by his forthright guest.
His captive straightened. “I am not his wife.”
The surprise Jillian expressed turned into a shrewd glance that moved between them. “Ah,” she nodded, “he willna’ make an honest woman of you, eh?” She gave him an anxious look, clearly realizing the unflattering remark was directed at her savior. “I did not mean anything, Laird. I just—” she stopped, her expression dropping further.
“Never mind,” Iain said. “But I believe you are mistaken.” His attention moved to the lass.
“Oh, aye, she is mistaken,” she said through tight lips. “I am neither wife, nor mistress.”
Jillian cocked her head and gave her a look that as much as said the idea was impossible. “Then who are you? You are English. I cannot imagine what an Englishwoman would be doing in the Highlands.” “I am a visitor,” she said.
“Visitor?”
“Aye,” she muttered. “Willing or no.”
Jillian frowned. “What did you say?”
“Nothing.” The lass looked up at him. “Do you have all the information you need, my lord?”
He studied Jillian for a moment. “You know nothing more about Jonathan’s death?”
The girl winced and her eyes clouded over, but she answered. “Nay, Laird. There is little else to tell.
’Tis a tangle for sure.”
Iain smiled at the simplistic analysis of the situation. “Aye,” he agreed. A tangle for sure, if one could sum up a trained Highland warrior found dead by his own sword, and his future wife, the size of a mite, brought before a hasty tribunal to be found guilty of having run him through with that sword. “I do not blame all of them.” “All of who?” the lass asked.
“The men, you know…the ones who…”
“There is no defense for men who abuse women,” his captive said.
“But the grief and all, I do not think Jonathan’s brother knew what he was doing.”
“His brother!” Iain stalked the few steps to the bed.
Jillian’s eyes widened, and the lass came to her feet. “Is something amiss, my lord?”
“What do you mean, you do not blame his brother?”
“J-Jonathan’s brother. He was one of the men. It would be hard to lose a brother, and he did have the devil in his eyes.”
“Your betrothed’s brother—”
“Laird, he did me no harm,” Jillian offered, but the denial came too easily for Iain.
“How did you end up on MacPherson land?”
Jillian swallowed visibly. “They took me from Iona with the intention of carrying out the death sentence.”
“Took you?” Iain frowned. “Why take you from your village?”
She shook her head. “They found me guilty, and after a talk amongst themselves, I was placed on a horse with one of the men and we left the village.”
“The council had nothing to say?”
“I did not go before the council. Only David was present.”
“David Robertson, your chieftain?”
“Aye.”
“He was one of the men who took you?”
“Nay. He instructed the other men to deal with me. Though…” she paused.
“What?” the lass urged as she seated herself once again.
“I do think he had the intention to go with the men, but it seemed at the last minute he changed his mind.”
The lass looked to him. “Is it the way of the Scots to take a condemned prisoner away for punishment?” “I do not know about the Scots,” Iain replied,
“but it is not the way of the Highlander.” “What do they do?” she asked.
“Death by hanging is reserved for such occasions.
Usually in the village square.” She gasped.
“’Tis not so different in England,” Iain said.
“Nay,” she agreed, “but barbaric, nonetheless.”
He shrugged. “No more so than a sword through the heart. Which is what usually brings on such judgment.”
“You are not saying so in this case, my lord,” she objected.
“Nay, lass, I am not saying so. I am simply answering your question. You are no more a fool than I am to think they took this girl for anything but their pleasure.”
She shot to her feet. “My lord!”
Iain grimaced. “For Christ’s sake, do not act as if I agree with them.” He returned his attention to Jillian.
“Continue.”
“They took me past the crag near the bottom of Iona. The village is in the mountains, and the crag sits near the bottom.”
&nbs
p; Iain nodded. “I know it.”
“We passed that, then continued out of the mountain before stopping. They brought me down from the horse and, instead of doing what I expected, they sat me down on a rock and circled me.” Jillian gave her head a serious shake. “I wondered if it were some workings of the devil. You know, mayhap they were going to try and steal my soul. But they began to talk to me all nice like.
“‘Lass,’ one said, ‘how long were you in the cottage? Well, I was so surprised by this question. After all, they hadna’ asked me a blessed thing during the trial. In fact, I had not been allowed to say anything, save, yea or nay to their questions.
“‘Answer the question,’ another said, so I did. ‘I had only been there a few minutes,’ I said. ‘And, did anyone else come there while you were there?’” Jillian’s brows rose. “I thought this an odd question but, having no wish to hurry my sentence along, I took a long while in answering. Finally, they had enough of my tears and forced me to say no one had been by. Then they asked if Jonathan had said anything.” A look of grim defiance shadowed her face, and she said in a low voice, “I refused to answer.”
“Why that of all questions?” Iain asked.
Jillian gave a harsh laugh. “Someone took him from me, and those men wanted to take what I had given to no man but Jonathan. I was not about to give them the satisfaction of telling them what had passed between Jonathan and me in those last moments.” She looked up at him. “He didna’ want me to forget him. I was not going to let them scoff at him. He woulda’ done the same for me.”
“Aye, lass,” Iain nodded. “I believe he would.”
She sighed and, for the first time, a smile, small, yet satisfying, curved her mouth upward. “They were angry. Donny, in particular. ‘Tell us, lass,’” she mimicked his deep voice, “‘and mayhap we will release you.’” Jillian snorted. “They must have thought me a green girl. I told him to go to the devil. ‘You will see him sooner than you like if you do not answer our question,’ he said. I was not surprised when he raised his hand to me, but I was not fast enough to dodge it.”
“’Tis not easy,” his captive agreed.
Anger flashed through Iain at the mental picture of her dodging her husband’s hand.
“I think he enjoyed it.” Jillian’s voice shattered the picture. “Still, it was worth seeing his face twist like a madman when I yelled I would see him in hell first. Aye,” she added softly, “worth everything.” “Was Donny the only one who hurt you?” Iain asked.
Jillian blushed and bowed her head.
The lass smoothed back Jillian’s hair. “You suffered more than a hand to the cheek. Your dress was ripped and your hair…”
“Aye,” Jillian said, “they were bent on finding their answers. They wanted to humiliate me. They tore my clothes and threw me down on the ground. But I am a woman, not a child, and not so easily brought low.” The last was said with more of the same spirit she had exhibited earlier.
“What does being a woman mean to you?” the lass asked.
“I told you, I grew up with Jonathan. We always knew we would marry,” she answered. “I am not ignorant to what they wanted.”
“How old are you?”
“Sixteen.”
The lass drew in a slow breath. “So you know the ways of a man and woman, then?”
Jillian’s chin rose. “You may think me wrong, and mayhap I will burn for it, but I loved Jonathan, and he loved me.”
“Nay, child, I do not sit in judgment of you. I am sorry those men…” She paused, then said, “How did you escape?”
Another smile touched Jillian’s lips. “At first I thought it was God, but once the wildcat eyed Donny
I knew it had to be Jonathan.”
“Jonathan?” the lass repeated.
“Aye. Two men held me down while Donny tried to take me. He forced my legs apart and woulda’ had me but for the cry of that wildcat. You should have seen it.” The satisfaction that shone on the girl’s face made her look older than her years. “Donny’s eyes were a few inches from mine. When he spied the cat, his face turned white, and you would have thought it was him lying beneath me instead of the other way around.
“God as my witness, that cat had eyes for no one but Donny. Donny yelled for the others to do something.” Jillian paused, and Iain was forced to strain his ears in order to hear the words she whispered as she leaned toward the lass. “It isna’ easy for a man to defend himself when he is lying on top of a woman.” Her look of satisfaction deepened, and Iain marveled at the spirit that hadn’t crumbled under such circumstances.
“But,” she went on in a louder voice, “they did not move a muscle, except to release my arms. They let go and stepped away when the cat made a wide circle around us. The beast circled closer, his eyes on Donny. The cat lunged at us, and when he did, Donny rolled over and the cat landed on me.” “Sweet Jesu,” the lass murmured.
Jillian nodded. “Aye, the three of us rolled, but the cat never clawed me.” She shuddered. “Somehow, I broke free. It happened so fast, but I think the animal managed to lay a fang into Donny. I heard him yell—Donny, that is—and the next thing I knew, I was rolling to the side. For a moment, I couldna’ move. I heard the growls of the cat and the yells of the man. When I looked, the cat was chewing Donny to bits.” She gave a hollow laugh. “A bitter sight it was, though I do not regret seeing it. I probably would have watched until kingdom come, but then something strange happened. The cat looked up from Donny and stared at me. It was only for an instant, but there was no mistaking it. He was telling me to run.”
She shrugged. “So, I did. Ran until I did not think I could ever move again. I thought I would collapse, and then I heard someone coming. I ran into the bushes. I could not see a thing. Imagine my amazement when I found that cave. Then you came.” She motioned with her head at his captive.
Chapter Thirteen
“I must consider this further.” Iain cut off further discussion. He’d heard more than enough for one day. “We will speak again later.” At the fear on Jillian’s face he added, “Do not worry, lass. I know you speak the truth.”
“Laird?”
“Aye?”
“I do not want to make trouble for you. If you think it best for me to return, I will. But if that be the case, mayhap you will consider letting me escape. I would rather face the hills than those men.”
So the girl was not the callous woman of the world she claimed to be. He shook his head. “I will not return you to your kinsmen, nor will I send you out alone. Both are sure death.” Or worse.
The lass started to rise, but Jillian reached for her hand. “You risked your life for mine when I was a stranger. If ever there is anything I can do to repay you, I swear to do it.”
She squeezed Jillian’s hand. “Put it out of your mind and rest. I will return later.”
Jillian didn’t release her. “Tell me, mistress, what is your name?”
The lass’s head pivoted in Iain’s direction, and he flashed a broad smile.
She gave him a look meant to wither him on the spot and faced Jillian again. “I have no name.”
Jillian’s mouth dropped open in surprise and Iain bit back a laugh.
“You see,” she went on, “I…have amnesia.”
“Amnesia?” Jillian’s eyes widened. “What a terrible fate.”
“A distressing fate, indeed,” she agreed.
Iain nodded. “I am gratified to understand the problem. I had begun to doubt my ability to woo a fair maiden.”
“Nay, Laird,” put in Jillian. The grave look on her face made it nearly impossible for Iain to maintain a serious expression. When she continued with, “You cannot believe such a thing. What woman would not be proud to have your attention?” The candid question nearly undid him. She looked back to his captive. “’Tis the truth, is it not, mistress?”
Christ, Iain thought, what sweet justice.
“I cannot answer such a question,” she replied in a voice that, in Iain’
s judgment, betrayed a hint of feminine pride. She took a step in the direction of the door, and he slid in front of her.
“Aye, love, but you can.”
She came to an abrupt halt, her skirts swirling around her. “Have a care, my lord.”
“I have a care, sweeting.” He gave her a wicked smile. “But I think you should oblige our guest by answering her question.”
“Oh.” She formed the word in such a manner that he knew she was thinking more of how she would like to answer his question. Instead, she said, “I am sure many women find your attentions desirable.” “And you?” Iain asked.
“You know how I feel,” she snapped.
“There are moments when I believe I do,” he said.
“Moments such as last night?”
Her eyes widened. “How can you speak so? We are not alone, sir. Faith, but you are mad.”
“Aye, sweet, I am mad, but it is you who are making me that way. Now, be a good lass and answer the question.”
“I feel certain, my lord”—she ground out the title—“that you have never doubted the effect you
have on women.”
Hope surged through him and he reached out to caress her cheek. “I was not sure about you lass, until now.”
Her mouth parted in a gasp, and he realized his mistake in letting on that he’d caught the meaning she may not have even realized existed behind her words.
Her eyes narrowed. “I believe you are toying with me.”
“I have never toyed with you, and you know it.” His head was beginning to ache.
“Nay? Even now you tease Jillian and I. Imagine, believing you doubted…”
“Doubted what?” Despite his better judgment, he persisted. “Your feelings for me?”
Iain would never forget the storm that gathered in her eyes at that moment. The only thing undecided was whether or not she was more furious with him or herself. In the end, her remedy came in the form of a hasty retreat, and Iain was forced to allow it.
* * *
That afternoon, Iain watched from an archer’s slit in the north tower as a murmur coursed through the Robertson ranks when they were informed Kevin Robertson was not allowed to accompany his laird into Fauldun Castle.