She wondered about the man Blackburn had put in charge of guiding her horse.
"Ralston?" she said, loud enough to be heard over the hooves pounding the muddy road.
"Aye." He sounded younger than the other two men, 'haps in his early twenties.
"Where are we going?"
"You'll have to ask the chief."
Chief, hah! Blackburn had stolen the position when he'd murdered his own cousin, John MacCromar.
"How many soldiers did he bring?" she asked.
"Four dozen."
Why on earth would he need that many men simply to capture her? He obviously had other plans in mind, perhaps some sort of attack.
"Any other women in the party?"
"Nay."
Saints. She refused to think about how vulnerable she was.
As they rode, she tried to figure out the situation. None of the men were talking because of the fast pace. 'Twas clear Blackburn knew where Anna was, but mayhap she wasn't so easy to get to.
Likely, Blackburn planned to use Kristina to lure or force Anna out from her hiding place. That had to be it. Why else would he abduct her in the middle of the night and then ride like the devil? He wanted to use her as leverage. If that were the case, she had to escape and hide. But how? She could see naught, not even a faint hint of light at midday.
She had no inkling what time of night or morning it was, but they rode for about an hour.
"Halt!" Blackburn called out from somewhere up ahead. All the hoofbeats slowed, then drew to a stop. Leather creaked as the men dismounted. A flowing stream splashed nearby. The air smelled fresh and damp, like black dirt in a garden.
Though stiff and sore from sitting in the saddle so long, she dismounted without help. It had been over two years since she'd ridden much, and her muscles had weakened.
Footsteps thumped and swished toward her through damp grasses. "I was going to help you dismount, m'lady," Ralston said.
"I'm fully capable of doing so myself. Is there a place I might… have some privacy?" Her face burned with the awkwardness of the situation. She prayed the men would actually give her some privacy and show her respect.
"Aye, there are some bushes just over here." Ralston took her arm and gently but firmly guided her over the uneven ground. After her feet got tangled in the tall dead grass, he steadied her, then she took higher steps.
After they stopped, she listened, not hearing anyone close by. "Is this private and away from the men?"
"Aye. I will stand guard with my back toward you."
"I thank you." She didn't know if she could trust him, but what choice did she have? "Is it daylight yet?"
"A hint of dawn is just at the horizon."
After she'd relieved herself, Ralston led her from the bushes and toward the talking men again.
"I wish some clean water or something to drink," she said, holding her head high. She would not be cowed by these criminals.
"Do you now, my queen?"
She turned her head toward Red Holme's grumpy voice, the sound of it sickening her. Her whole body tensed. She remembered what he looked like—a tall, hulking man with shaggy red hair and a beard to match.
"Can you now see?" he demanded.
She frowned. "Nay."
"Then why are you looking at me with those eerie blue eyes?"
What in blazes was he talking about? Did she appear to be staring at him? A bitter laugh almost burst from her mouth, but she prevented it. Instead, she listened, hearing him move aside and turning her eyes toward the sound. Everyone said that her eyes appeared fine and healthy. The physician had told her whatever had caused her blindness, it was deeper inside her head and caused from the blow to her brain.
"What's wrong with you?" Blackburn asked nearby.
"She can see!" Red Holme declared as if spooked. "Look at her!"
"Are you mad? She's as blind as a damnable bat."
Her stomach turned at Blackburn's snide tone. Something small bounced off Kristina's shoulder, startling her. "What are you doing?" she demanded. "Throwing rocks at the blind girl? How heroic you are."
"Shut your mouth!" Blackburn ordered. "Your sharp tongue is why you're blind now and why your face is so hideously ugly with that scar."
Kristina ground her teeth. Bastard. She'd like to take her knife and slice his face as he had done to her. Tears stung her eyes, but she refused to let the blackguards see them.
Red Holme chuckled as he walked away, the grass rustling beneath his boots. She wished she could accurately throw a dirk at each of them.
She pulled the cowl over her head, hiding her face. Indeed, she felt hideously ugly, as he'd said. She traced a finger over the deep, puckered scar that ran down the length of her cheek, now wet with tears. No man would ever find her attractive—she knew that. Nor would any man want a blind wife who couldn't take care of a household or children. She had no illusions about marrying.
Don't think of it, she told herself. She simply needed to survive this journey and try to protect Anna as best she could.
Boots stamping through damp dead grass approached, and she tensed.
"Here you go, m'lady," Ralston said.
She wiped her tears away, hoping he didn't see. "What is it?"
"Water." He took her hand and placed it around a cold, wet metal cup.
"Is it clean?" Everyone knew disease came from dirty water.
"Aye, I drank some myself. I got it from a small stream flowing down from the hill."
"I thank you." She sniffed it, detecting no rank odors. A small taste told her it was fresh enough. After drinking all she wanted, she handed the cup back to Ralston. "Is my sister all right?" she whispered.
"Aye, far as I know." He kept his voice low.
"Have you seen her?"
"Nay." His brief answers did not satisfy her curiosity.
"Where is she? Where are we going?" Kristina asked.
"Northwest and into the Highlands."
"How far?"
"Through Lochaber and to the west coast."
Saints, how had Anna gotten so far away… and been discovered anyway?
As Ralston's footsteps retreated, she listened to the other men, trying to find out more, but they were too distant or talking so low she couldn't make out their words. If not for her blindness, she might spy an escape route, but her affliction imprisoned her as much as Blackburn did.
"Mount up!" the knave yelled, his voice echoing. "We must ride many miles this day."
Chapter Two
Bearach Castle, Loch Moidart, Scotland
Colin Cameron strode into the candlelit great hall from the courtyard, where the men were preparing for an impending attack. Colin had come to help his friend and foster brother, Neacal MacDonald, the new chief of the MacDonalds of Moidart. Enemies were sneaking up on Neacal from every side.
When Neacal had sent Colin the missive, he'd said he expected MacDonald of Sleat to attack, attempting to take over the castle while Neacal's clan was recovering from the MacKenzie siege in which many of the Moidart men had been killed.
Now, a new threat loomed—Blackburn MacCromar. The man was trying to seize Anna Douglas from Neacal. All Colin knew thus far was that Neacal had eliminated a dozen of MacCromar's men singlehandedly, with bow and arrow, while protecting Anna on a remote mountain.
Colin proceeded into the solar where the maids had served supper. His friend wished to speak with him in private about the conflict.
The fireplace and a few candles lit the spacious, well-furnished room. The aromas of venison, bread, vegetables and herbs teased his senses.
Colin inhaled deeply. "Smells good."
"We missed supper in the great hall, and I wished to speak with you away from the others." Neacal's sharp blue gaze held great seriousness.
Good. Colin hoped he would enlighten him with the details.
They took seats at the table near the hearth. Prior to today, Colin had not seen his friend in a year. Neacal's return to remarkable health was astounding
. The last time Colin had seen him, his friend had been near skin and bones from the horrid injuries he'd sustained while captured by his enemy, MacRankin.
Now, Neacal was lean and muscular, like a Highland warrior should be. His long dark hair hung over his shoulders, and the jagged pink scar on the side of his face only made him appear more fearsome.
Colin was hungrier than he'd realized after his long ride into the mountains to find Neacal. Besides, the food was delicious. He chewed and swallowed. "What's your plan in dealing with Blackburn MacCromar?"
"I'm going to kill the bastard." Neacal's voice was deadly serious.
"Ah. Don't you feel you're being a bit too lenient?" Colin asked with a trace of dry humor.
Neacal smirked. "Aye. He deserves torture worse than I suffered, but I'll spare him. I have no doubt he'll show up here."
"What if he wants to negotiate?"
"Negotiation happens when there is a hostage. Anna is here of her own free will, and I won't hand her over to him. Of a certainty, she won't choose to go with him. I expect that he'll grow hostile and attack once I tell him nay."
For several minutes they discussed battle strategy, ways they might gain the upper hand, and other clans who might join their force.
Colin took a long sip of ale, remembering how he'd come upon Neacal and Anna kissing in a glen between the mountains. Obviously, his friend was smitten with the lovely blonde. "Do you intend to marry Anna?"
"Of course."
Colin chuckled. "Damnation. You've become decisive of late."
Neacal grinned, giving a glimpse of his younger self. "I've always been decisive."
Colin was pleased to see him find happiness again. The change in Neacal when he was with Anna was miraculous.
He still didn't understand the lass's situation, and his friend seemed reluctant to tell him the whole story. What was her connection to Blackburn MacCromar, and why were his men trying to capture her?
"What on earth happened to her?" Colin asked.
Neacal hesitated for a moment, though Colin didn't ken why. Surely his friend trusted him. Neacal had always told him that he considered him more like a brother than his actual brother, Elrick.
Neacal drew in a deep breath. "Anna was forced into marriage with the murderous whoreson."
"Marriage?" Colin was stunned. The lovely blonde Neacal planned to marry was already married? His friend, ever the risk-taker, was playing with fire again.
"Aye. Blackburn MacCromar murdered the previous MacCromar chief, his cousin, Anna's first husband."
"Saints!"
"The marriage is not legal, but I'm certain he won't give up. 'Tis why I'll have to either take the matter before the king or kill Blackburn. In a fair fight, of course."
"Of course." Obviously Neacal had strong feelings for her if he was willing to take such risks to marry her. "You love her," Colin stated.
Neacal lifted a brow. His eyes growing more intense, he glanced away.
"Do you not?" Colin persisted, grinning.
"I'm drawn to her."
That was an understatement. He suspected his friend was mad about Anna.
"You used to be drawn to a lot of women… before." Aye, before the torture, Neacal had been a charming rogue, and all the lassies had been in love with him… the ones who hadn't been in love with Colin. They'd sown plenty of wild oats during their early twenties. "But this is different."
"Anna is different." Neacal's voice was solemn, reverent. "She gives me peace as I've never had."
Despite his friend's earnest mood, Colin couldn't resist teasing him a wee bit. "Are you certain 'tis peace? Or a raging storm of desire?"
"If you must know… both," Neacal admitted reluctantly.
Colin chuckled. "Aha. The storm, then the peace."
Frowning, Neacal stared down into his cup of ale. "She helps me forget the torture."
Colin relented, visualizing for a moment the hell Neacal must have gone through. He couldn't even imagine the severe pain. Neacal's torturers had broken several of his bones, dislocated his joints, and inflicted cuts and stab wounds. Colin didn't know how Neacal had survived it. Anyone would come out the other side of torture a changed man, nearly a completely different person. And it had changed Neacal—gone were the easy smiles and quips. Any joy in life had been destroyed, but he seemed to have discovered an intense drive to be stronger, mentally and physically, than he'd ever been before. If Anna could bring a bit of that joy back to Neacal…
"I'm glad for that, my friend. None of us can truly understand what you suffered at the hands of MacRankin, even if you tell us. 'Tis something only you know the full extent of." He wished he'd known his friend had been captured at the time. He would've charged in and pulled him out of that hell-pit.
"Anna has suffered too—'haps more than I have," Neacal said. "And I mean to protect her from that demon. He not only murdered her husband, he also caused her to have a miscarriage because of his abuse."
"Damnation," Colin muttered. Anna was a sweet, gentle lady. How could any man treat her thus?
"He cut her younger sister's face," Neacal continued.
"Why?"
"He forced Anna to marry him by threatening her sister with a knife. He cut Kristina's face, then had his man to hold a knife at her throat. After that, he shoved her down and her head hit the stone wall. She is blind because of it."
Even though he didn't ken the lass, fury rampaged through Colin at such injustice. Women should be treated with the utmost respect and care. "Hell. I hope he arrives soon. I want to personally run him through."
"Not if I get to him first."
***
After Blackburn MacCromar's small army had traveled for several hours at a moderate but steady pace so as not to tire the horses overmuch, Kristina felt the morning sun's warmth on her back. Indeed, they were heading northwest.
Around midday, the pace slowed and they drew up.
"Where are we?" she asked.
"'Tis a wee village." Ralston helped her dismount. "The chief is approaching."
Not knowing what to expect, she tensed.
"I need to have a word with both of you," Blackburn said.
Hating him more each time she heard his voice, she ground her teeth.
"Do not say a word to anyone, Kristina. You're my sister-in-law and that's the end of it. Ralston, make certain she doesn't talk to anyone."
"Aye, chief."
Footsteps tromped away.
Ralston placed her hand around his elbow. "Come. I'll find you some food."
She released the breath she'd been holding. "I thank you for being so kind to me."
"'Tis naught. You remind me of my sister."
"Oh, you have a sister?"
He hesitated a long moment while they walked over the uneven cobblestones. "I used to. She passed five years ago from an illness."
"I'm so sorry to hear that."
Heavy footsteps approached. "Watch that you don't get too smitten with the lass," Red Holme said.
"I'm nay smitten," Ralston snapped.
Holme was such a knave. She wanted to kick him in the groin. Back when she was younger and had her sight, she'd watched two young men fighting. One had kicked the other in the groin and the injured man had gone down groaning in pain and hadn't risen to his feet for several minutes. She knew it might be a good way to disable Holme or Blackburn if she ever had the opportunity.
When she and Ralston entered what she assumed was a crowded tavern, she smelled the scents of ale, roasted venison, and mutton stew, along with onions and other vegetables and fresh oat bread. Her stomach growled, for she had not eaten since the night before. The many voices in the room were a dull roar.
"Take a seat here, m'lady." Ralston lowered her.
She placed her hand down behind her as she sat and found a bench beneath her.
"I'll be right back."
She still wore the cowl hiding most of her face and hated that she couldn't see who might be staring at her. Most likely
several people were. Regardless, she sat upright with her back straight as her mother had always taught her.
"Enjoying Ralston's mollycoddling, I see." Holme's rough, nasty voice grated on her nerves.
"Leave me be," she muttered, refusing to be afraid of him. Above the roar of conversation in the room, the sound of Holme's footsteps clomped even closer and moved in behind her. Cringing, she wanted to draw away, but she remained as upright as a tree.
He tugged her cowl back, away from her ear, then his hot, fetid breath wafted against it. She turned away.
"Don't like me very much, do you, lass?" Holme whispered through clenched teeth.
Nay, she hated him.
"I ken how to make you like me." Standing upright again, he ground himself against her back, chuckled, then walked away.
Recoiling with disgust and the avalanche of cold shivers, she averted her face and drew the cowl closer over her head. Dear God, what was he going to do to her? He'd always made it obvious he wanted to bed her.
Would he try to rape her?
Nausea overwhelming her, she clutched at her stomach, then placed her hand upon her thigh, feeling the sgian dubh secured there. If she killed Holme, what would Blackburn do to her? Kill her? Or would she be unwittingly putting Anna's life in danger? She had to find out anything she could about her sister.
Kristina listened, trying to pick out Blackburn's voice so she might hear a few words about why she had been taken hostage. Suddenly, her ears picked up a man's aristocratic voice to her right. His accent was noticeably upper crust. Who was he? Could she possibly gain his help in escaping these brigands? If only she could hear him introduce himself, or hear someone call his name. Or if he would come close and speak to her. She remembered Blackburn's warning about talking to no one, but she had to gain help from somewhere.
Feeling uneasy, she slowly pulled the cowl off her head, revealing her hair. She had always received many compliments on her blond curls. They were a mess at the moment, but maybe that wouldn't matter. Mayhap the man would see her for what she was, a lady in need of help.
Highlander Entangled Page 2