My Highland Rebel

by Amanda Forester

  They began to scuffle forward, both with their hands before them. Her fingertips brushed across something made of stone. She felt what it was and found it was something of a shelf carved out of the rock.

  “I’ve found something. A long shelf of some sort. It was made by human hands,” she reported.

  “I’ve found something too.” His tone was unreadable.

  “What did ye find?” she prompted.

  “I think it is a…skeleton.”

  “What?” Jyne’s right hand squeezed his, and she snatched her other hand away from the stone shelf lest she touch something she ought not.

  “This must be part o’ the crypt.”

  “We are in a tomb?” She swallowed hard.

  “Aye, but there must be a way out.” His low, gravelly voice resonated with confidence.

  They shuffled forward, Jyne trying not to think of the decayed corpses lying on the stone alcoves. If they did not escape, she could find an empty one and lay herself down onto it to save her people the trouble of having to bury her.

  It was not a comforting thought.

  They stumbled forward until she gradually began to notice that the absolute blackness around her was beginning to turn to a dark gray. She could not see much at first, but gradually, she could make out the difference between a wall and a corridor. MacLean was nothing but a dark blob, but she could tell where he was.

  Her heart beat faster as they continued on. She probably no longer needed to hold his hand, but she held on anyway. They moved faster now, toward the faint light. They must escape. They must.

  They rounded a corner, and the light was brighter. She dropped his hand and ran toward the pale light, craving light more than anything in her life. Light meant freedom; it meant escape from being buried alive.

  “We’ve found a way to get out!” Jyne ran forward with increasing speed until she came to a metal lattice gate. Pale light shone through, and the bright full moon was perfectly framed in one of the holes of the iron lattice. She shook the gate, trying to open it.

  It was locked.

  “Look! Here! I can see the moon, but the gate is locked. Come quick! We are almost free!” Jyne called to MacLean, wondering why he was not right behind her. Surely, he must be as anxious as she was for escape.

  His footsteps echoed down the cave. She waited with anticipation for him to come into view. She had never seen him without the ridiculous horned helmet and wondered what he looked like.

  He slowly came into view, walking hesitantly, and stepped into the shaft of moonlight. His boots were revealed first, his legs, his plaid, his plain tunic, and finally…

  A helmet.

  “Where did ye get a helm?”

  “He wasna needing it anymore.” He walked up slowly and stood next to her, tall and mysterious.

  “Ye took it off a dead man?” Her stomach turned. “What is so wrong wi’ yer face that ye’d rather wear a dead man’s helm than show me?”

  “Ye would’na care for me if ye saw me.”

  “Do ye truly think me so shallow that I would think poorly o’ ye because o’ yer visage? If I am to think ill o’ ye, it will be for yer actions in thieving my keep. Though I confess, ye’ve acted wi’ perfect chivalry wi’ me in the cave.”

  “Perfect chivalry?”

  “Well…” She paused, remembering his “accidental” wandering hand. “Almost perfect.”

  “I dinna suppose ye have the key?” he asked, abruptly turning the conversation.

  “Nay. Och, we canna have come so far only to be trapped here.” Tears sprung to her eyes. She was so tired. They could not have worked so hard for nothing.

  “What will ye give me if I can free us?” he asked.

  “Anything!” said Jyne recklessly.

  “Dinna fear. We shall no’ die here.” He drew his narrow knife and began to work the lock until she heard a friendly click.

  With a loud groan and sharp creak, the gate swung open.

  Thirty-five

  Core deftly picked the lock and swung open the gate.

  “We’re free!” Jyne rushed past him into the cool night air. She ran up a small grassy rise and twirled in the light of a full moon. Her hair was loose, her gown was torn, and every part of her from head to toe was covered in a gray film of dust. Still, she had never looked more beautiful. She laughed out loud, her blue eyes twinkling like stars. Her kirtle had been ripped, revealing a tantalizing amount of cleavage. She was wild and free and oh, so lovely.

  “Aye, we’re free,” he said gruffly, walking up the rise to stand next to her. And yet…he was not free. No, he was wearing a dead man’s helm because he would never be free. His father was still coming, and he was still lying to her. No, he was definitely not free.

  “Are ye no’ pleased?” She looked up at him, the moon reflected in her eyes.

  “I am pleased to be out o’ the crypt, but naught has changed.”

  A crease appeared on her forehead. “Nay, I am changed. Why do ye hide from me? Do ye no’ think I could accept yer visage, no matter what it might be?”

  “If ye saw me, ye would truly hate me.”

  “Nay! I would’na judge ye based on yer appearance. There is naught ye could show me that could make me hate ye.”

  “Ye dinna mean that.”

  “I do. I truly do. I understand ye better now. I dinna condone everything ye’ve done, but I think I understand why ye did it.” She gave him a tentative smile. How he wanted to believe her.

  He shook his head. “Ye would’na like what ye see.” Could she understand? Could she forgive? Impossible.

  “What have ye to lose?” she asked, her face open. She had no idea what it was to live a lie. What had he to lose? Everything.

  “Did ye truly mean what ye said about the sick needing the physician?” he asked, not sure if he dared to hope.

  “Aye, I do believe in grace. And if anyone needs it, ye do.”

  “Ye’re verra right, m’lady. But I doubt I’ll ever find it.”

  “I canna speak for all, only myself, but I think if ye give people a chance, they may be willing to forgive ye. I have told ye I forgive ye.”

  “Do ye? Truly?” Core held his breath.

  Jyne pursed her lips, as if considering the matter. “I do forgive ye. But I would ask ye to live a better life.”

  “If only I could,” he muttered.

  She walked up to him and reached out a hand, and he took it. “Ye asked me to trust ye and let go when I was hanging on the wall. I did. And ye caught me. Trust me now, and let me see the face o’ the man who, while no’ perfect, did get me out o’ the crypt alive.”

  She was so brave and so beautiful and so good, it made his heart hurt, literally. He felt a painful squeezing sensation in his chest at the recognition that Lady Jyne Campbell was much too good for him. He could never be with her. She was good. He was bad. Nothing could change that.

  Nothing but grace.

  “What o’ the boon ye promised?” he asked.

  “The boon?” She tilted her head in confusion.

  “Aye, ye promised to give me anything if I would free ye.” His heart squeezed harder. He feared he was making another bad decision, but he did not care.

  She raised an eyebrow. “What do ye wish?”

  “I claim a kiss.” He was breathing fast, and his heart beat loudly. This was his last chance. His last chance to kiss her. He could not pass the opportunity to steal one more kiss from the woman he adored. If this talk of grace was real, then she would forgive him that too. If it wasn’t, at least he would have one last kiss.

  A shadow passed over her eyes. The wind blew her long, straight hair around her like a rippling halo. Her face was unreadable. “As ye wish.”

  “Close yer eyes.”

  This earned him a glare. “Only because ye saved me from the c
averns.” She closed her eyes.

  “Dinna open yer eyes. Promise me.” He wanted her kiss. Needed her kiss. Even if he had to steal it from her.

  “I promise ye, I winna open my eyes.”

  He paused, knowing he had no right to kiss her, but drawn to her with a force he could not deny. He stepped to her and lifted the visor, revealing his face. Her eyes remained closed.

  He took a deep breath of the fragrant field, relishing in the cool, crisp air and the light fragrance of the heather. Maybe he could finally be free. Maybe his life could be different. Maybe there was a God in heaven who loved and forgave him and sent him an angel here on earth.

  Gently, he wrapped his arms around her and pressed her close to his body, brushing his lips against hers. He kissed her softly, slowly deepening the kiss, relishing in her soft lips, her warm mouth. He slid one hand up her back until it came to rest on her neck, gently pressing her closer to him.

  To his surprise, she reached up, wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling herself even closer. It was she who deepened the kiss, and he responded. Maybe she could forgive him. Maybe…

  “Och!” She turned away suddenly, her hand over her mouth.

  He slammed the visor down over his face to shield him from her view. She turned back at him, her eyes wide. “Ye’re the verra devil.”

  “Ye dinna care for the kiss?”

  “I agreed to kiss MacLean and ended up kissing Cormac.” She reached up and snatched the helmet from his head.

  “Jyne, I—Ow!” She smashed her fist into his nose. He doubled over, holding his nose as it began to drip blood. For a small thing, she certainly knew how to level a punch.

  “How could ye?” she cried, brushing away tears with the back of her hand.

  “I…I…”

  “How could I be so stupid? Och, I am the worst o’ all fools. I believed ye. Not only as Cormac but as the bloody Fire Lord too!”

  “I am so sorry. I ne’er meant to hurt—Ow!”

  She kicked him in the shin. “Was it not enough that ye captured Kinoch and forced these poor people to serve ye? Why deceive me? Was this all a cruel jest?”

  “Nay! I lied about who I was, but everything I said to ye was the truth.”

  “Truth? What do ye know o’ that? I thought I had misjudged ye. I thought ye were misunderstood. I thought ye were no’ the monster I believed ye to be. But now I ken the truth. Ye’re more evil, more despicable than I ever thought. Why would ye do this?”

  “Because I had to!”

  “Had to? Had to? Nobody was forcing ye to lie to me!”

  “Nay, but if I was honest wi’ ye at the beginning, when I first pulled ye out o’ the bog, would ye have ever spoken to me?”

  Jyne opened her mouth for a retort but closed it again, glaring at him.

  “I ken I’ve done ye wrong. But I have to lie to everyone I meet, or they are either scared o’ me or want to hurt me.”

  “I thought we were friends,” she said in a small voice. “I thought I could trust ye.”

  Her pain hurt him more than her anger. “The more time I spent wi’ ye, the more I liked ye, and the more I dinna want to lose ye. I…I liked ye too much to lose ye.”

  “Ye were only thinking o’ yerself, trying to get something from me by trickery and deceit.”

  He felt the truth of her words as if she had struck him again. She was right. He had been selfish. And wrong. He hung his head, not knowing what to say.

  “I canna believe ye would do this to me after all we shared. Why deceive me so? Why toy wi’ my emotions?”

  “Because I love ye!” he blurted out.

  She stared at him in stunned silence, then squared her shoulders and looked him straight in the eye. “Ye dinna ken the meaning o’ the word.”

  Her words cut him to the quick, stabbing him with a pain crueler and deeper than even the sharpest knife.

  “I am sorry.” It was all he could say.

  She turned on her heel and began to walk through the tall grasses back to Kinoch Abbey.

  He watched her go. It was all how he had predicted. If she knew the truth, she would hate him almost as much as he hated himself. There was no grace for him. No heaven above. No God who cared. And definitely no angel on earth, at least no angel that was sent for him.

  He put a hand to his chest, trying to stop the awful, empty, hollow pain. It was no use. Maybe his father was right all along. Human emotions were an affliction, a disease that must be destroyed.

  There had been a moment, just a moment, when she had assured him that no matter what he revealed, she would not despise him for it, that he had believed her. Maybe she could discover the truth, see him for who he truly was, and find a way to forgive. But no, his sins were too great for grace. Forgiveness was for folk who didn’t really need it. Not for him.

  Once she knew the truth about him, she hated him. That was why he had concealed it from her for as long as he could. Could she not see the logic in that? And truly, what right did she have telling him that she would not think less of him no matter what, if she had no intention of actually following through on her bold claim?

  He realized he was beginning to blame her and stopped himself. This was not her doing. No, this was entirely his fault. He had done it. He had been selfish and cruel. He knew there had never been a chance of a future together. Their fate had always been inevitable.

  Cormac trudged after Jyne back to Kinoch Abbey. He reached a rise and paused on the top of a hill, looking down into the valley of Kinoch. The sky was lighter in the east, revealing the first glimpse of the coming dawn. They had been in the cave all day and all night. Core shook his head. Dawn might break for others, but it would forever be night for him.

  He realized he had hurt more people fighting his father than if he had simply given in. All his plans and good intentions had caused everyone nothing but trouble. He needed to give up, for everyone’s sake.

  A bit of movement in the distance caught his eye. Core could make out riders slowly winding their way down the steep path toward the far side of the valley. They were still a ways away, but they were heading toward them.

  Core squinted at the figures, trying to make them out. One was larger than the others riding with him. Core’s blood ran cold. Only one man could so dwarf his companions. Cormac coughed and tasted bile.

  Core sprinted toward Kinoch, panic rising within him. Jyne was in danger. He needed to ensure his father never discovered his true feelings toward Jyne, or her life would be cruelly forfeit. His father demanded that he be a warlord. If he had any chance to save Jyne, it was time to become the only thing he ever could be.

  It was time to join Red Rex.

  Thirty-six

  Jyne wiped her eyes with an impatient swipe of her hand. He was not worth her tears. Grit got in her eyes, and she blinked back more tears from the sting. She must be filthy from crawling around in the crypt for a day and a night. All of which was Cormac’s fault.

  She hated him. Hated him!

  She had trusted Cormac. She had even begun to trust MacLean. But it was all a farce, all some cruel joke at her expense.

  She picked up her pace, striding over the freshly tilled ground. How she had praised Cormac and thought him so brave for risking capture to plow the fields. Of course he got the ruffians to plow the fields; they were his men!

  Things started to piece together in her mind. She had unwittingly shown him the postern gate, which he then blasted through with his unholy doings with alchemy. She had warned him about the sleeping draft, but why had he played along? Why not stop her? If this had all been a mean jest, why try to force her to leave? None of it made sense.

  The sky was pink in the east, and the sun’s rays began to peek over the horizon, casting the outer walls around Kinoch Abbey in a rosy hue. It would have been a welcoming sight had she not been so hurt and so angry.
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  How could she have been so blind? And yet…looking back, there were signs. Could she not have suspected it? No wonder she had felt a strange attraction to MacLean; it was none other than Cormac himself. Why had he deceived her? And yet…as the morning chill cooled her anger, she realized maybe she had deceived herself.

  Core had tried to tell her something, and she had not wanted to know. In truth, MacLean also had tried to reveal something, and she had cut him off too. She hadn’t wanted to have her dream crushed. She did not want to know the secrets he kept. She did not want to see the truth.

  She strode boldly up to the gate of Kinoch Abbey. It was not even locked. She pushed it open as it groaned in complaint. She walked across the dark outer ward to Kinoch. She expected the house to be asleep, but she could hear voices from inside. She stopped short, realizing that the entire southeast corner of the keep had collapsed. She swallowed gall at a sudden realization. Had Cormac not rushed to save her, she would have been crushed.

  She hurried into the inner courtyard and was arrested by the sight. The entire corner of Kinoch Abbey where the storeroom had been had fallen into the crypt below. Even more shocking than that, a line of Cormac’s men and elders were passing along rocks and buckets of debris out of a crater in the ground. They appeared tired, their eyes all but closed, their shoulders slumped. Some people were even sleeping on the ground or benches in the courtyard. They had clearly been up all night.

  “Dubh, lend Donnach a hand there with that rock. It’s a big one,” commanded Bran.

  “Here, use this spear as a lever,” said Luke, jumping into the crater.

  “Any sign yet?” asked Breanna in a weary voice as she leaned against a shovel and looked down into the hole.

  “What are ye looking for?” asked Jyne, coming up behind Breanna.

  “We’re looking for—Jyne!” Breanna turned around and cried out, dropping her shovel and giving her a wild embrace. “By all the saints! It’s Lady Jyne!”