Highland Tides

by Anna Markland

  What choice did she have? Without Callum she’d be a woman alone and destitute in dangerous times. She had to trust him. “My mare is a valuable piece of horseflesh,” she murmured. “I have no knowledge of horse trading, but mayhap you can exchange her for a lesser animal and obtain the balance in coin.”

  Both men gaped at her. “Just an idea,” she added lamely.

  “’Tis a wonderful idea, Lexi,” Callum said, taking her hand, “but are ye sure ye want to part with her?”

  A fifteenth birthday gift from her father, Ryssa was the last link with her parents. “I love my horse,” she admitted, “but I don’t see another choice. Do either of you? We won’t get far without money.”

  Braden shook his head. “I’ll see to it. Mistress Ainslie will ken where to take her.”

  He sought the tavern-keeper out in the kitchen. They returned quickly, and Lexi had a suspicion the woman had been eavesdropping.

  “Ye mun go to the stables at Holyrood,” their landlady insisted. “They’ll recognise the value of a fine mare. Anywhere else they’ll swindle ye and she’ll end up as ‘orsemeat. Tell Macadam I sent ye.”

  “Thank ye, Mistress Ainslie,” Braden declared, kissing the flustered woman on the cheek. “I’ll go.”

  “Nay,” she cried. “Ye canna cross the city alone. There’s brigands lying in wait for one such as ye with yer fancy shirt, and yer fine shoes. Ye mun take yer brother, and my Michael to show ye the way.”

  Callum shook his head. “Nay. We canna leave my wife unprotected.”

  Ainslie put her hands on her hips. “Naught will befall her wi’ me ‘ere.”

  Lexi was uneasy at being left alone, but the tavern-keeper was right. The chances of Braden getting safely to Holyrood and back again alone were slim. “Go with Braden,” she told her husband. “Ainslie will take care of me. I’m in no danger.”

  IF WE HADNA DROWNED

  Lexi accompanied Braden and Callum to the stable behind the tavern. While they bartered with the hunchbacked ostler over trading her side saddle for one of his, she said a brief goodbye to her beloved mare. When tears threatened, she stood on tiptoe to kiss Callum goodbye. “Don’t get lost and go off to another century,” she jested.

  He gathered her into his arms and kissed her deeply, drawing her tongue into his mouth. His hard maleness pressed against her. How would she live if he never returned?

  “I’ll be back before ye ken it,” he reassured her when they broke apart. “Stay in the chamber.”

  He mounted Ryssa behind his brother. Ainslie’s husband, Michael rode the donkey, leading the way out of the stable. Braden nodded his farewell; Callum stared over his shoulder. She watched them disappear down the dusty street. “Come back to me,” she whimpered, feeling more alone than she ever had in her life.

  Ainslie’s voice broke the silence. “Ye must be exhausted. Take a nap. Supper’s served at dusk.”

  ~~~

  Atop the donkey, Michael led them through the narrow winding streets of Edinburgh. “He looks like a giant riding a mouse,” Callum quipped.

  “Aye,” Braden replied with a chuckle, “but we must be cautious. Because he’s mute doesna mean he canna hear. There’s no guarantee he’s leading us to Holyrood Palace. He and his wife may be plotting our demise.”

  Callum’s heart lurched. “But we’ve left Lexi in her care.”

  “Aye,” Braden replied grimly. “But what choice did we have? Mayhap I’m suspicious by nature.”

  Callum had never known his devil-may-care brother show the slightest sign of mistrust of anyone, but he held his tongue. He decided to change the subject. “Do ye believe we’ll ever see Donal again?”

  Braden shrugged. “It seems the fates decided ye and I would meet, so perhaps there’s hope yet we’ll find him.”

  Another question gnawed at him. “How do ye plan to get back to Charlotte?”

  Braden inhaled deeply. “I’ll drown again.”

  An adder hissed in Callum’s gut. “Is that how ye got here?”

  “I made the mistake of thinking o’ ye at the moment I went under and ended up here instead o’ with Charlotte.”

  “Why did ye think o’ me?”

  “If I’d paid heed to yer concerns, none of this would have happened.”

  Callum chuckled. “Ye canna blame yerself, Braden. I was nervous, but I didna expect the ferocity of the tidal bore. Besides, ye have wed Charlotte and I’ve wed Lexi. If we hadna drowned…Crivvens! Anyone overhearing our conversation would deem us madmen.”

  “But we know we’re not,” Braden replied soberly. “Ne’er lose sight o’ that.”

  It was another hour before he spoke again. “I do believe I see the towers of a splendid building yonder.”

  Callum breathed more easily. It appeared Michael hadn’t led them into a trap. But uncertainty still plagued him. “Do ye suppose, if I was to drown with ye…”

  Braden reined to a halt. “I canna answer, Callum. I’ve let the waters claim me twice since we drowned, and it was more terrifying each time. I’ve lived to tell the tale, but that’s no guarantee the same will be true for ye or even for me. Besides, there’s Lexi…”

  “Aye,” he replied sadly. “I’ll never leave her.”

  THE SHATTERED EWER

  Lexi supposed she must have slept. It was growing dark. Her fitful dreams had been full of images of her uncle’s angry face, of her darling parents, of Callum, and of Queen Mary, a woman she’d never met. Her pillow was still damp with the tears she’d shed over the loss of Ryssa.

  Judging by the noise coming from downstairs, Mistress Ainslie had already started serving supper to her patrons. Lexi wished she’d requested food be brought up to her chamber. The notion of mingling with the riffraff who dwelt in this rundown area of the city filled her with dread. However, she hadn’t eaten since breaking her fast with half a bowl of oats. She’d assumed Callum and Braden would make it back from Holyrood before nightfall, but it might be hours before they returned.

  She poured the last of the water from the ewer into the basin, pressed her palms into the meager drops of tepid water and patted her face. If she avoided the main room downstairs and went by way of the kitchen to the well in the yard, she could refill the ewer and be back safely in a few minutes. Food was one thing, but she’d a raging thirst and it was evident the tavern-keeper wouldn’t see to her needs. If the woman had any sense she’d have known Lexi wouldn’t want to enter the main room alone. It was likely full of scurvy men and doxies.

  A light tapping at the door had her eating her words. They’d had the foresight to bring her supper. Ewer in hand, she opened the door, intending to ask for more water.

  The smile left her face at the sight of two burly men. Fear skittered up her spine when she recognised the Bothwell devise on their tunics.

  “Yer to come wi’ us,” one of them growled, taking a step into the chamber.

  Tightening her grip on the handle of the ewer she swung it at his head with all her might. “Nay,” she screamed as he howled in pain, blood pouring from his nose. The ewer shattered, leaving only the broken handle in her hand. She threw it at the second man. If she made enough noise mayhap someone would come to her rescue. Still yelling, she slipped by the injured man, heading for the stairs. Too late she noticed the plaid the other man held. He shoved it over her head like a sack and lifted her over his shoulder.

  She kicked and screamed as he carried her downstairs, but the plaid muffled her protests and rendered it impossible to move her arms.

  “What’s happening here?”

  Thank God. Ainslie.

  “Mind yer business, woman,” her abductor rumbled. “The Earl sent us fer his niece. ‘Ere’s fer yer trouble.”

  She heard the sound of coin being tossed to the floor, then she was abruptly outside in the cold night air.

  All was lost. Callum would believe she’d left him.

  ~~~

  Callum judged it was close to midnight when he, Braden and Michael rode into the st
able behind Ainslie’s tavern. Mute he might be, but Michael had proven to be of immense help during negotiations with the ornery Macadam. They’d succeeded in procuring two decent palfreys as well as another saddle and bridle and nine shillings in coin.

  Braden was pleased, but the return journey had been slow and fraught with danger. Accosted by a gang of bandits, they’d only been allowed to pass when one of the criminals recognised Michael.

  Callum fretted over Lexi. He hoped Ainslie had made sure she was safe and fed. He left his brother and Michael to negotiate with the ostler for the care of the horses. There was no sign of the tavern-mistress in the kitchen. A handful of drunken men lingered in the main room, many of them slobbering over the painted women perched on their laps.

  He bounded up the stairs and carefully opened the door of the chamber. It was pitch black inside and his wife might be asleep. Something crunched underfoot as he tiptoed to the bed. Heart in his throat, he hunkered down to examine what he’d stepped on. The meager light from the landing fell on pieces of broken pottery. Something had shattered, as if…

  He hurried to the bed, hoping against hope what he dreaded wasn’t true. Lexi was gone. His gut clenched. She had left him.

  But why the broken pottery? It dawned him they were pieces of the ewer. His wife hadn’t gone willingly.

  Distraught, he flew down the stairs, colliding with Braden near the bottom. “They’ve taken Lexi,” he shouted at his frowning brother.

  Braden clenched his jaw and turned back towards the kitchen. “Mistress Ainslie said naught,” he growled.

  They confronted the tavern-keeper coming out of the main room. “Where’s my wife?” Callum shouted in her face, drawing the bemused attention of the drunks.

  Michael appeared from the kitchen and lumbered between Callum and his wife.

  Callum pummelled the giant’s chest. “She was supposed to protect her,” he yelled. “Where is she?”

  Michael stood unmoving as if a flea were pelting him.

  “Naught I could do against the Earl,” Ainslie hissed from behind her husband

  Rage threatened to choke Callum. “The Earl was here?”

  Braden put a restraining hand on his shoulder. “Why would he take a woman he abandoned?” he asked Ainslie.

  “Not him. His men. They said he’d sent for her.”

  Callum inhaled deeply. “Did she go willingly?”

  Ainslie’s eyes darted from him to Braden and back again. “Nay,” she whispered. “They carried her in a plaid.”

  Callum gritted his teeth, his nose inches from Michael’s. “Where have they taken her?”

  “I dinna ken. Bothwell has many estates,” she replied, cowering behind her husband.

  Braden pulled Callum away and whispered in his ear. “We ken what happens next. We can work it out.”

  A SLEEPLESS NIGHT

  Lexi was glad of the warmth of the plaid as she rode in the lap of her abductor. However the reek of male sweat clinging to the wool robbed her of breath and she was relieved when he lifted it off her head after a league or two. “I demand you tell me where you’re taking me,” she panted.

  “Ye’ll find out soon enough,” the other rider yelled.

  “Dinna worry about Joseph,” her captor rasped with a chuckle. “He’s mad ye broke his nose.”

  “Why has my uncle sent you?” she asked, peering into the darkness. Night riding was perilous. These men must be familiar with the road.

  “We’ll stop shortly in Dail Cheith,” he replied. “Then on the morrow we’ll complete our journey, and yer questions will be answered.”

  It was a relief they wouldn’t be careening along in the pitch black for much longer, and the man who seemed to be the superior of the two was polite. Dail Cheith Castle belonged to James Douglas, Earl of Morton. Lexi didn’t know if Douglas was one of her uncle’s cronies, but mayhap if she could get word to him—

  “Here we be,” her captor said, reining to a halt.

  She was puzzled. There was no sign of a castle.

  Despair choked off a startled gasp when she made out the shape of a tumbledown bothy nestled in a grove of garry oaks. “We canna stay here,” she whimpered.

  Joseph dismounted and came to lift her down. “Too high and mighty to sleep in a shepherd’s hut?” he sneered, baring rotten teeth as he grinned. She had an urge to plant her fist on his swollen nose.

  “See to yer needs afore we enter,” he said, cocking his head in the direction of a stand of hawthorns.

  She gathered the plaid around her shoulders and staggered to the prickly bushes on wobbly legs, relieved they’d at least allowed her privacy. They obviously weren’t afraid she’d run off. Where would she go in the dark, in unknown surroundings. There might be wolves…

  Reluctantly she made her way back to the derelict bothy. Her belly lurched when she was shoved inside. It stank of woodsmoke, decay and rodents. She hadn’t eaten for hours, and now she was glad of it.

  Joseph slumped down by the only door, glaring at her, wrapped his plaid.

  “I be Horace, my lady,” the other man said. “Bed down by yon hearth. Joseph willna touch ye.”

  She curled up in the plaid in front of the cold hearth, relieved when Horace lay between her and Joseph. Listening to the scurrying of foraging animals and the soughing of the wind in the trees, she prayed fervently the bothy was inhabited by mice and not rats.

  The memory of Braden’s claims that her uncle planned to kidnap the Queen and force her into marriage played on her mind. She became convinced her own abduction had something to do with his scheme. But what?

  She sobbed silent tears into the smelly wool, wishing she was safe in Callum’s strong arms.

  Did he care enough to come for her?

  ~~~

  Callum stared into the steaming bowl of oats Ainslie had hurriedly placed on the table before scurrying away. Braden picked up his spoon and stirred his porridge half-heartedly.

  “I’m nay hungry,” Callum said.

  Braden kept stirring. “Me neither.”

  For Braden to forego oats signalled the depth of his frustration. They’d spent the night pacing back and forth in the tavern’s main room, trying to settle on the best course of action.

  A sleepless night coupled with the previous long excursion to Holyrood had left them exhausted. They’d come to the conclusion the Earl had probably taken Lexi to the same place he planned to take the Queen. Try as he might Braden couldn’t recall if Charlotte had actually told him where Bothwell took Mary, Queen of Scots after he abducted her.

  Fear and dread gripped Callum’s innards. “Why has he done this?” he asked his brother. “He was only too happy to be rid of her.”

  Braden licked the back of his spoon. “We canna be sure, but my guess is he needs someone to be lady-in-waiting to Mary.”

  Callum shook his head. “But she must have dozens of ladies-in-waiting.”

  “However, he willna want to kidnap a dozen servants. He’ll need someone he trusts, or thinks he can control.”

  An idea came to Callum. “Mayhap there’s a way to find out.”

  Braden frowned. “Such as?”

  “Ye say the Queen will be kidnapped any day now on her way back to Edinburgh.”

  “Aye.”

  “The news will spread quickly.”

  “Aye.”

  “There’ll be rumor, gossip, speculation.”

  The corners of Braden’s mouth edged up. “And sooner or later, his hide-y-hole will come to light.”

  Callum brought his fist down on the table causing his wooden spoon to dance. “Then we’ll have him.”

  Braden scooped up oats from his bowl, but paused with the spoon half way to his mouth. “Aye, but dinna forget, we can do naught to rescue the Queen, only Lexi.”

  Callum dug his spoon into his oats. “That’s all I care about,” he rasped.

  Their plan might take days to come to fruition. The time apart from Lexi loomed like an abyss. Not knowing how she fared gn
awed at his gut. She’d become vital to his happiness in such a short time. But then what was time when a man had traveled a hundred and thirty years.

  He swore a silent oath. Despite Braden’s warnings concerning interference in history, he’d kill the Earl of Bothwell if a single hair on Lexi’s head was harmed.

  DYN BARR

  The next morning, Horace, Joseph and Lexi had ridden only about five miles when a castle came in sight in the distance. The four-story keep sat high on a ridge and must have commanding views.

  “Fawsyde,” Joseph spat.

  Lexi shivered, recalling gruesome tales of the massacre there twenty years before when the English had set it alight and burned or suffocated every living soul in the place before the Battle of Pinkie Cleugh. Its smoke-blackened walls stood as a reminder.

  To her surprise, Joseph rode off through flocks of grazing sheep towards the castle, leaving her alone with Horace. She fervently hoped this was not their destination.

  It was as if he sensed her agitation. “Dunbar,” he said.

  She’d heard of the castle, perched on a cliff overlooking the North Sea, but hadn’t known her uncle had laid claim to it. She’d never been there, but vaguely recalled him mentioning Queen Mary had ordered repairs to the gun placements after the Earl of Moray’s failed rebellion two years earlier, so she’d assumed it was a royal holding.

  What a fiasco the so-called Chaseabout Rebellion had been, the Queen’s army and her half-brother’s forces chasing each other across Scotland and back because Mary had married Darnley, a Roman Catholic. Moray feared a return to the Papist religion. The two armies never clashed. Moray fled to England, but was now back in Scotland and apparently back in his half-sister’s good graces as a member of the Privy Council. And Darnley was dead.