Highland Captive

by Mary McCall

  "I am Heather. You met my brother, Bren, a few weeks ago.” Heather bowed her head as if in shame. “I sneaked over to Ranald land because I wanted to see you."

  "Why?"

  "Bren said you were the most bonny woman he'd ever seen, so ‘twas no wonder Duncan lost his heart to you. I remembered my father saying once that it would take a goddess to make Laird Ranald fall in love. I just wanted to see what a goddess looked like."

  Alera was humbled. She certainly didn't deserve such praise. No one had control over the features the Almighty gave them. Besides, Duncan didn't love her. He owned her. Though now that she thought about it, she might give him hell when he arrived. He should love her and she was going to tell him so.

  Glancing back at the child, Alera smiled. “Well, Heather, we will bide our time. When the hall grows quiet, we will leave. Duncan is surely coming, so mayhap we can meet him halfway."

  "But how will we get out?"

  "I have a dagger, and the door is fastened with leather. I will cut the straps and then we will be on our way. But not until the hall grows quiet. Do you know anything about these Gilmores?"

  "Bren says they are a bunch of low-down serpents."

  Alera narrowed her eyes, remembering the time one of the snakes marked Duncan with an arrow. Her rage churned, begging for release. Between Isobel and the Gilmores, she had certainly landed in a viper's nest. A little retaliation might just be called for before she left.

  Nay, she had her babe and Heather to protect. Their safety must come first. She had failed her father, and she vowed she would never fail in her duties again.

  "Try to rest, Heather. I will wake you when ‘tis time to leave."

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  Twenty

  Alera and Heather clung to each other as they crept around Gilmores, who slept about the fire in the center of the long house. The unbarred door presented no obstacle, and the pair slipped out undetected.

  Thanking the Almighty for the full moon, Alera guided Heather in the general direction she thought they had come, but couldn't make out any landmarks in the shadows once they entered the forest. She began to question the wisdom of leading the child into the night. They could walk in circles only to be caught in the morning. Or they could meet up with a night stalker and be eaten before the Gilmores knew they were gone.

  Duncan was not far away. She could feel his strength drawing near, though she couldn't explain the sensation to anyone if she tried.

  "This way, Heather.” Alera veered toward the direction she sensed would lead her to Duncan.

  "I am so afraid.” Heather's fingers dug into Alera's arm as if the child feared Alera might vanish. “What if they catch us?"

  "I will not let them,” Alera promised and slipped her arm around the girl's shoulder. “We should find Duncan soon and he will protect us both."

  "Do you think there are wolves out here?” Heather shuddered and pressed closer to Alera. “I saw Dougie after a wolf ate him. Was nothing left but bones, and some them were chomped clean in two."

  Alera knew if she didn't stop the child's chatter they'd be found out soon. She halted then drew Heather around to face her and cupped the girl's pale cheeks. “Did I not promise I would allow no one to hurt you?"

  "Aye, you did, but—"

  "Then do not worry so. Let us keep moving."

  They resumed their trek, carefully picking their way along the forest path.

  An enraged bellow resounded behind them quickly followed by several pairs of running footfalls. Heather squealed.

  Alera took the child by the shoulders and gave her a slight shake. “Heather, stop crying. Run and keep running until you find Duncan. I will keep them away from you."

  "Nay. You cannot leave me.” Heather clung to Alera.

  "I must, but you will be all right. Just run."

  "But what if they get you?"

  "They will not if I am fast enough. If I am not, then you had best hurry and find Duncan, so he can save me."

  "Look, I think I see light.” Heather pointed toward the darkness.

  "Then run toward it.” Alera gave the girl a push. “Now!"

  Heather ran. Alera took off in another direction, making enough noise to lead whoever was after them away from the child. Her legs cramped with tension, and she gasped for breath as a spell of dizziness washed over her.

  Damn it all, she would not let them win. Gritting her teeth, she forced herself onward and summoned her rage for strength and endurance. Just as her body surged with energy, she tripped over a fallen branch and tumbled down a hill. Wrapping her arms around her belly, she prayed over and over—all the way down, “Henry, please save my babe."

  Her descent came to an abrupt halt with a splash. Alera quickly recovered and stood in the stream where she had landed, sucking in deep breaths. “Is it a water thing with you, Henry?” She snorted and trudged toward the bank. “I guess I should thank you for saving us."

  As her feet attained dry land, a hand grabbed her around the neck from behind. “Damn, bitch. I'm taking you back, and I'll enjoy you well for this bit of bother."

  Recognizing Roy's voice, Alera struggled to get free and managed to get hold of her dagger. Jabbing backward, her blade slid into muscled flesh. As she jerked her dagger back, a fist slammed between her shoulder blades, throwing her to the ground.

  Her demon unleashed.

  She fell into a roll and came up on her feet, her dagger at the ready.

  Roy drew his sword and carved a path down her left upper arm. Then he immediately thrust the blade, skewering through her left shoulder just below the collarbone. Releasing the hilt, he let out a mocking laugh.

  That was his mistake.

  Rage fired through Alera. She felt no pain. Locking gazes with the viper, she smiled. His jaw went slack as she grasped the sword near her shoulder and pulled the blade from her body.

  Warm blood poured in rivulets from the entrance wound on her chest, the exit wound at her back, as well as the cut along her left arm. She ignored the flow. Tossing the sword on the ground, she took a step toward him. His eyes bulged with fear, and he made the Sign of the Cross. Her dagger caught his left eye, and he dropped to the ground.

  Alera's vision blurred and her legs wobbled. Fire seared through her left shoulder and arm. Fear pushed aside her rage. She didn't expect to see the morning sun. Urgency grew within her to reach Duncan in case the worst

  happened. She didn't want him to think she had run away.

  The slam against her back caught her by surprise and knocked her facedown in the dirt.

  "You, bitch!” an angry voice bellowed. “You killed my son!"

  A weight fell upon her back. Beefy hands gripped her neck and squeezed. She needed to scream, but couldn't breathe. Panic welled up inside her. She was too weak to summon her rage.

  Blinding light moved toward her. Henry must be coming to take her away. She didn't want to go with Henry. She wanted Duncan. A mighty roar filled the night. The weight lifted from her back. She saw nothing at all.

  Duncan's battle cry resounded through the forest. He grabbed the bastard off Alera and threw him against a tree near the stream, where his head hit with a satisfying thunk. The Gilmore vermin had the gall to die too fast.

  Upon turning around, Duncan thought his heart might burst with pain. “Alera!"

  She lay face down, unmoving. Blood pooled around her. Reaching her side, he eased her onto her back and brushed hair from her pale face. The faint puff of warm air from her nose against his hand filled him with momentary relief. He inspected her wounds under the many torches held aloft by Ranald and Sutherland warriors.

  Heather sobbed against Brendan behind him. “Saved me...” The girl moved to Duncan's side, her face a mask of misery. “I did not want to leave her. She told me to run to you, and she would lead them away."

  "You did well, Heather,” Duncan replied in a tight voice. “Geddes, come help me sit her up, so we can get her bandaged."

  Duncan ripp
ed material from Alera's hem. Then he raised her to a sitting position and had Geddes hold her up.

  "Wait. My gown is dry.” Heather tore her hem and held out the material to Duncan.

  As he wrapped the bandage around Alera's shoulder, a moan slipped from her mouth and her eyes slitted open. “Henry, tell Duncan... did not run... away."

  Her voice sounded raspy and thin and about as sweet as any melody he had ever heard. “He knows, love."

  "Hate snakes...Papa says kill...them."

  He finished reinforcing the bandage.

  "Duncan?"

  At the breathy whisper, he looked down and caught her pained gaze. “Aye, love."

  "Heather?"

  How had he ever thought her selfish and spoiled? Even wounded her thoughts were for another. “She is well."

  Fear clouded her eyes. “Hold me... I do not wish to... leave you."

  "Forever, Alera.” He gathered her in his arms and rose, holding her over his heart.

  "I am all wet again,” she mourned. Then her head lulled against his shoulder and she went limp.

  "She was never afraid,” Heather said between sniffs. “She said she knew you was coming."

  "How did you end up with Alera?” Brendan pulled his sister closer to his side.

  "I wanted to see what a goddess looked like. They was not supposed to take me. They was ‘posed to take Megan. Is your lady going to be all right, Uncle Duncan?"

  "I'll not allow otherwise,” he replied in a forceful whisper.

  "Jeannie Maclin is the nearest healer,” Brendan said.

  "Duncan,” Alera whispered. “Please take me... home."

  "I promise. Just as soon as Jeannie tends your shoulder and arm.” Duncan faced Kevin. “Burn them out."

  "It was Isobel,” Alera whispered.

  Duncan tensed as rage tore through his gut. “What?"

  "Isobel... with The Gilmore. ‘Twas her behind..."

  Duncan set his jaw and tightened his hold on Alera. “Kevin, Isobel is mine."

  Kevin nodded, selected warriors to ride with him, and left on his mission.

  Brendan turned to one of the Sutherland warriors. “Michael, ride to the clan and tell them Heather is well. The rest of us will accompany The Ranald."

  "Brendan?” Alera mumbled.

  "Aye, Lady Ranald.” He moved into her line of vision.

  "Do me a favor."

  "I'll not take you away from Duncan,” he replied firmly.

  "Find Faith. Bring her... to your home... keep her safe."

  Brendan nodded once in agreement. “I give you my word. If I can find your friend, her home will be with me."

  "You will marry her,” Alera ordered. “She is...lady. I will not—” She broke off coughing and gasping for air.

  Duncan whistled for Rufus.

  "Promise me, Bren,” Alera wheezed out, reaching a hand toward him.

  "He already did, love.” Duncan turned toward approaching hooves.

  "Marry her,” she persisted, a desperate edge to her voice.

  Brendan gazed into her distressed eyes and squeezed the hand she held out. “Lady Ranald, I promise. If I find your friend still unwed and outside the convent, I will marry her."

  At the promise, Alera wheezed out a sigh. “Duncan?"

  "Aye, love?"

  "Do not call me love unless you mean it.” She went limp in his arms.

  "Give her to me,” Brendan said. “I'll hand her up as soon as you mount so you do not jar those wounds any more than you have to."

  Duncan handed Alera over to Brendan. After mounting and settling her in his lap, he headed for Jeannie and Patrick Maclin's home. Ranald warriors took the lead and the Sutherland warriors protected from behind.

  She hurt like hell.

  Of course Mama always said to find the good in any situation. So never mind that she felt like someone dug in her shoulder with a red-hot iron and poured salt into the wound. And never mind that her arm was on fire and little sparks shot from her fingertips with each beat of her heart. She wouldn't feel pain if she weren't alive.

  And what was that weight on her belly? She opened her eyes to the faint torchlight. She was in Duncan's chamber at Laidirkin. He slept on a chair at the bedside, leaning forward and using her belly as a pillow. His face appeared haggard and tense. He must have stayed by her side and tended her.

  Longing to wipe the torment from his brow, she ran her fingers across his whiskered cheek. Duncan jolted awake and turned an anxious frown on her.

  "I am...” she cleared her throat against the grating sound. “I am not dead."

  He grasped her hand and pressed a kiss against her palm. “You lost much blood and had a raging fever. Your flesh still burns."

  "My throat hurts."

  "The Gilmore tried to choke the life from you."

  "I forgot that part. How long?” she asked as he interlaced his fingers with hers.

  "We found you and Heather two nights past. You spoke briefly then fainted."

  "I did not run away."

  "I know.” He tenderly caressed her cheek.

  "Isobel?"

  "The Gilmore killed her."

  "I am sorry I did not get to your toes.” Tears brimmed in her eyes. “I am so tired I cannot stay awake. Please hold me."

  Duncan stretched out beside her on the bed and pulled her into his arms where she promptly went to sleep. “Forever, love. I'll be holding onto you in eternity, too."

  He caressed her silky hair and kissed her brow. “And just for you, I'll be putting hatred aside. Aye, in the morning I'll be going on a hunt."

  She might kill Duncan the next time she saw him. The very least he would get away with was a good maiming. The man should have stayed by her side and pampered her a little. She could have died from her wounds, but what did he do? He took her Uncle Julian and Uncle Leonce and Kevin and went on a hunt. Welladay, it would be The Ranald's hide skewered on a spit if he wasn't home in time for his birthday celebration. She had a surprise for him, damn it all.

  Alera pulled on her gown, trying to ignore the ugly scar puckering at her shoulder and the other scar tracking down her arm. The stitches were out, but both scars itched and pulled to the point of distraction. She decided to think of them as battle scars. She could show them off to her sisters someday. Well, mayhap not Faith. She'd blanch, but Chris and Medea were viragos. They'd appreciate the marks and say they made her worthy.

  She had made a momentous decision, too. She was going to own Duncan like he owned her. The man was going to love her, and that was that. She planned a serious talk with him as soon as he returned. It was a husband's duty to love his wife, and she intended to tell him so. She refused to be his slave, and since she had said the words, he had to say them, too.

  She needed something to do now, though. The walls of her chamber were closing in on her. Two weeks was longer than she could ever remember staying indoors. With the celebration the next day, she had best check on the preparations. That should keep her occupied for a while.

  Alera spent a comfortable afternoon chatting with Edeen about everything from the celebration to the cook's aching bones. As Alera stepped outside the kitchen, Edeen patted her shoulder. “'Tis plain why the laird loves you so much. You have a kind heart, milady."

  "Oh, he does not love me. He owns me, but I intend—"

  "Damn it all, Alera! How can you not know how much I love you!"

  Startled, she whirled around, saw a painted heathen, and clutched a hand to her chest. Her world kept spinning around her. She crumpled into an ungraceful heap.

  "Good God, Duncan!” Leonce exclaimed. “'Tis no way to tell a woman you love her. No wonder the lass fought wedding you."

  "Leonce is right,” Julien said. “Mayhap I acted too hastily when I gave Alera to you. I didn't know then that you planned to scare her to death."

  "We can undo the vows if Alera but says the word,” a massive English warrior declared in a threatening tone.

  "You'll not undo anything, Baron
. And keep in mind, if it was not for her, I would have killed you, not brought you here.” Duncan was down on his knees beside Alera. He took one delicately boned hand in his and pushed the hair escaping her braid from her face. “Alera, love, open your eyes and look at me."

  Edeen rushed into the kitchen, came back outside, and handed Duncan a damp cloth. “Try this."

  Duncan gently wiped her brow. “Alera, talk to me."

  Her eyelids fluttered then opened. She looked at him vacantly for a moment. Then she closed her eyes and a slight smile curved her mouth. “Missed you, Henry. Too tired to talk."

  Julien frowned. “Who is Henry?"

  "Her angel guardian,” Baron Robert replied, watching the gentleness the mighty Highlander showed his daughter. “He has been her best friend since she was a young girl."

  Duncan caressed her cheek. “Alera, love, open your eyes."

  Sapphire eyes peered through slits. “You are not very accommodating for an angel, Duncan. I told you I am tired."

  "She thinks you're an angel?” Leonce chuckled.

  Duncan smiled. “Nay. She temporarily renamed Henry when she discovered he was Scot."

  "I am sure King Henry will be relieved,” Robert said dryly.

  "The lady was looking a bit puggled when she first came into the kitchen,” Edeen said. “Mayhap you should get her to bed, laird. She may not be quite over her injuries. I say she got out of bed too soon and is pushing herself."

  Duncan lifted Alera into the cradle of his arms and walked toward the rear of the keep.

  Alera shifted and draped her arms around his neck. She pressed her face against his chest, inhaled, and then purred. “Mmm. You are almost as cozy as my Duncan."

  "You think so?"

  "Want to know a secret?” she mumbled against his chest, eyes closed.

  He raised a brow. She always told Henry more than she told him. “Aye."

  "I was going to marry him on his birthday, but Uncle Julian made me marry him before.” She nuzzled his neck and her lips curled. “I have another present for him, though."

  "Mayhap you are all he wants."

  Alera didn't respond, and her head lulled against him. He shifted her and pulled open the door.