What the Outlaw Keeps

by Samantha Leal

  She got up and crossed her bedroom to her desk. She opened the top drawer and pulled out her passport and her Scottish pounds. She flipped through them with a childish smile on her face, as if she couldn’t believe it was all real. She had never thought that she would have the nerve to travel across the world on her own, with no one meeting her at the other side, but it was all so liberating.

  After she dressed for bed and set her alarm for 5:00 am, she climbed underneath her duvet and hoped for a safe journey. She had never needed a break more in her entire life, but she had never been a confident traveler. As she drifted off to sleep, scenes of rolling green hills and historical castles swirled through her head. She was finally going to see what her parents and grandparents had told her so much about and she couldn’t wait.

  ***

  At 7:00 am the following morning, she was climbing out of the taxi at the airport and walking through to the check-in desks. The buzz around the place even at that time of the morning was intense and it made her feel all the more alive.

  As she handed her passport over to the girl at the desk, she looked up and saw her flight number and GLASGOW in big letters on the board above her head. Her skin tingled in anticipation, and as she left for security and departures with her boarding pass, she repressed the urge to do a little celebratory dance on the way through.

  As the plane taxied down the runway and she nursed a small glass of wine to calm her nerves, a grin was fixed firmly on her face. She had never left the US before, and it felt like the beginning of something big for her. In her own way she was marking the occasion as a beginning of a new her. She was going out on her own, and she was leaving all the bullshit of her humdrum life behind.

  As she plane accelerated up into the air, her stomach dipped and she turned to the woman beside her and smiled.

  “This is so exciting,” she said. “I’ve never traveled alone before.”

  “Me neither,” the woman said with a nervous laugh. “Maybe we should look after each other.”

  “Good idea,” Moira smiled.

  Throughout the rest of the flight, Moira spent her time sipping red wine, flicking through magazines and cuddling into the airline blanket. As she drifted in and out of sleep, once again her dreams were wild and vivid and a man with a shock of red hair and a tall muscular frame was with her the whole way. They were running along untamed lands, up and down rolling hills and around the outskirts of a loch as the sunlight shone on it and made it look gold. The man was strong but gentle and his voice echoed around her subconscious. His accent was deep, gruff and very sexy.

  The countryside turned to darkness and he was playfully chasing her down the ancient hallways of an incredible castle. He caught up to her and pushed her gently up against the stone wall and kissed her powerfully on the lips, so hard that it made her weak at the knees and floppy in his arms. As their bodies collided, even in the dream, it was the most amazing sensation and Moira’s heartbeat thumped loudly in her ears. The man pulled back and stared at her deep in the eyes before his hand moved down between her legs and he rubbed her gently before slipping her panties to one side. Moira threw her head back and gasped, ready to give herself to him, when suddenly a loud BING brought her back to reality…

  She woke with a start as the seatbelt signs illuminated and the captain announced that the plane was preparing to land. Her cheeks were flushed, her whole body tingled, and she was sure she could still taste the man on her lips. It had been so vivid and real.

  “You alright, dear?” the woman next to her asked as Moira flattened down her hair and did a double take of her surroundings.

  “Yes,” Moira smiled, “I was just having this crazy dream.”

  “They’re usually the best,” the lady smiled.

  “Yes,” said Moira. “Yes, it was.”

  3.

  After Moira said her goodbyes to the lady she was sitting with on the plane, she collected her bags and went through customs and security. It had been a long day so far, and it was early evening in Scotland. She stretched as she stepped out of the airport’s main doors and waited for a taxi to pull up to the curb.

  The driver helped her put her bags into the trunk and Moira sank down into the comfy back seat.

  “Where to, lassie?” he asked her in a deep Scottish accent.

  Moira couldn’t help but smile at the fact that she was actually there and she was among her ancestors’ people.

  “Lennox Castle, please,” she smiled.

  “Lennox, eh?” the driver said as he looked at her in the rearview mirror and nodded his head. “Don’t get many folk going up there anymore.”

  “Really?” Moira asked in disbelief.

  “Aye,” he nodded. “The castle is in disrepair now, after all the scandal, not been looked after in a long time.”

  “Scandal?” she sat forward so she could hear him properly.

  “Aye,” he coughed. “Was a hospital…or a mental institution if you will… Closed down quite a few years back after it emerged that some of the patients were being mistreated.”

  “Oh,” Moira said, disappointed. “That’s just awful.”

  “Aye. The town around it is good, though. You’ll be made to feel at home, don’t worry.”

  “It was the castle really that I was interested in,” she said. “My ancestors are supposedly from the area.”

  “Och,” he laughed. “Well, then, you’ll be even more welcomed.” He smiled at her warmly as he pulled onto the freeway. “The Kincaid Clan have been around Lennoxtown for centuries. Before Lennox Castle was built in the 1800s, there was supposedly another castle on the site, Kincaid Tower.”

  “Really?” Moira asked, intrigued.

  “Aye, and you can still have a nosy around Lennox even now, it’s all closed off, but you can still get in. Just be careful.”

  “Wouldn’t that be trespassing?”

  He looked up at her in the mirror and his eyes fixed on her firmly. “Depends how much it means to you.”

  Moira sat back in the seat and looked out of the window. She knew there would be no way she could go trespassing in some ancient insane asylum. Seeing the castle from the outside would have to do.

  As they traveled further along the road, the towns gradually gave way to beautiful countryside. They were in the highlands and Moira couldn’t believe how similar the landscape was to what she had imagined. The hills and greenery were lush and beautiful. She had never seen anything like it before in her life, and it was amazing to be among it all.

  The driver slowed as he approached Lennoxtown, and Moira sat up fully again and watched the quaint little buildings flash by.

  “The castle is up on that rise,” the driver told her. “Do you want to have a look before I take you to your B & B?”

  The sunlight was fading, but her curiosity was overpowering.

  “Yes,” she beamed. “I’d love to see it.”

  The driver smiled at her in the rearview mirror and made his way toward the castle. He pulled off the main road and began up a dirt track. It looked abandoned, and the trees and foliage were very overgrown. The road was bumpy and full of potholes, and as they bounced along, Moira began to regret her decision and wished she had let the driver just take her straight to the bed and breakfast.

  “Wow,” she said, her mouth gaping open as the castle came into view over the tops of the trees.

  Even though it was clearly derelict, it was an impressive structure. Lennox Castle was medieval in style, tall and regal, shining out next to the sky with a superiority that was overwhelming for a simple girl like Moira. She hadn’t expected to see something so spectacular and couldn’t believe that anyone would let such a wonderful building fall into disrepair.

  “Aye, a lot of it was destroyed by fire a few years ago,” the driver said with a sigh. “Shame.”

  He slowed to a halt and got out of the front of the car before opening her door. Moira climbed out and stood looking up at the castle with him.

  “Something, ain�
�t it?” he smiled. “I’ve always been fond o’ Lennox Castle meself.” He laughed.

  “It’s beautiful,” she whispered. “How could it go to waste like this?”

  “Och, I don’t know,” he smiled. “It is a shame.”

  Moira walked closer, looking up at the castle as it loomed high above her. She hadn’t wanted to trespass and risk going inside, but now she was there, right in front of it, she didn’t think her curiosity would let her walk away.

  “Have you ever been in?” she turned and asked the driver.

  “Aye, once,” he nodded. “Not in any rush to go in again though,” he laughed.

  Moira looked back to the castle and then again to the driver.

  “Go on,” he waved her away, “I can wait ten minutes.”

  Moira smiled at him and approached the front door. It had been boarded over, but many other curious people had obviously been there before her—the boards had been smashed in and pulled away. The door was closed all but for a small crack, and when she pushed, it creaked slowly open.

  Half of the roof had been torn away and crumbling stone was piled high in the corners of the cavernous entryway. A bird flapped its wings as it squawked and flew out into the open air. Moira jumped and her heart began to pound. She was desperate to step into the darkness and explore, but she was too afraid. She didn’t have it in her to go snooping around an abandoned and no doubt dangerous castle. She looked up at the impressive staircase fifty feet in front of her that led up to the second floor of the castle, and she noted how half of the steps had fallen or rotted away. She took one step in and pulled her cell phone from her pocket, turning on the flashlight and shining it around. Old paintings were still hanging from the walls but had been covered in spray paint. Graffiti was scrawled all over the thick stone and dripping in neon lines right down to the floor. Her heart sank. Back in its glory days, Lennox Castle would have been an amazing home for the Kincaid Clan.

  She turned on her heel and was about to go back to join the driver when something caught her eye. She shone the light from the cell phone into the corner and the hair on her arms and back of her neck stood on end. Slumped in the corner of the room was what looked like a big, furry animal. Her heart pounded so hard she thought it was going to jump out of her chest, but she knew she couldn’t just leave it there. What if it was hurt and needed help?

  She turned back and called to the driver, “There’s something here,” she shouted. “Can you help me?”

  The driver looked around uneasily before shaking his head in defeat and crossing over the gravel to meet her.

  “What is it?” he asked, looking up at the sky. The sun was almost set and the air was getting cooler with each passing minute.

  “I think there’s an animal in there,” she whispered, “and I think it may be hurt.”

  The driver shifted uneasily on the spot and shrugged.

  “Please?” Moira asked him with pleading eyes.

  With reluctance, they both pushed open the door to the castle and stepped carefully into the entryway. The driver didn’t want to be there, that she could tell, but she stepped forward and shone the light into the corner by the wall and waited for him to react.

  “Aye, looks like an animal,” he said matter-of-factly. “Now what?”

  Moira realized he wasn’t going to be any use to her, so she rolled her eyes and stepped cautiously forward. As long as he was right there behind her, she felt safer than being in there alone. She approached the mound of black fur slowly, but as she got closer, she could see that there was no movement to suggest it was breathing. On the floor there was a broken tree branch which she picked up and used to prod it gently.

  The moment she touched it, she knew that it was neither an animal nor alive, and her shoulders relaxed as she exhaled with relief.

  “What is it?” he asked her.

  “I think it’s an animal skin,” she said as she prodded it again and managed to flip over the thick fur.

  “A pelt?” he asked as he moved closer.

  “Yes,” she bent down and pulled it towards her. It was a thick black furred wolf pelt.

  “A black wolf,” the man nodded, “Rare.”

  Moira shook it out and then bundled it up in her arms.

  “My first Scottish souvenir,” she smiled as she made her way back to the door.

  “Are you sure you want that?” the driver asked cautiously.

  “Yep,” she said, “I’ll give it a wash and a clean-up and it’ll be a great memento of my first day here.”

  The wolf pelt was soft and heavy in her arms and even though she knew she shouldn’t be taking it, she just couldn’t help herself.

  “Suit yourself,” he laughed as they both walked back through the doorway and towards the car. The sky had grown dark and bats squeaked as they flitted around the trees overhead. As Moira sank back into the seat, she felt oddly connected with her surroundings and the pelt. She didn’t know why, but she felt strangely protective over it and she never wanted to let it go.

  4.

  As the taxi pulled away, Moira entered the quaint bed and breakfast where she was booked for her first few nights in Scotland. She hadn’t had any idea what to expect from Lennoxtown, so she had planned to move on to other areas after she had explored the land of her ancestors.

  After the little old lady at reception gave her the key to her room, Moira tightly clutched onto the pelt as she made her way up the stairs, dragging her heavy luggage behind her.

  The room was basic but large, and she went straight into the bathroom and ran the big marble sink full of warm, soapy water. The pelt was so beautiful and soft, she had no idea how it had ended up lying on the floor of the derelict castle but she wanted to revive it as much as she could and take care of it. She put it into the sink and let the water seep into it, and then rubbed and massaged until all of the dust and bits of dirt and crumbling stone seemed to have come loose. Afterwards she rinsed it under the shower and rung it out before plugging in the hair dryer and carefully drying it while running a thick comb through the soft fur. She felt so much affection for it, but she couldn’t figure out why.

  Once the pelt had been groomed and was silky smooth and shining, she lay it out across the end of her bed and looked at the clock. It was almost 10:00 pm, and she hadn’t even eaten or unpacked her bags. Her body ached and her mind was swimming with possibility and information. She wanted to unpack, but she also wanted to explore. She opened the small menu at the side of the bed which told her that breakfast would be served between 7:30 am and 9:30 am the following morning. It was a long time to wait, but she would have to stick it out.

  After she hung up the clothes she didn’t want to get too creased, she got into her pajamas and lay down on the bed before turning on the television. She smiled as the array of English and Scottish accents came flying at her, and when the temperature dropped and she found herself chilly, she pulled the wolf pelt up from the foot of the bed and wrapped herself in it. The faint scent of strawberry shower gel still lurked among the soft fur.

  As she watched the local news, her eyes grew heavy and the warmth from the pelt was keeping her so comfy in her little cocoon it wasn’t long before she drifted off soundly to sleep.

  5.

  The cold bit her skin as she stirred the following morning. The air was icy and she shivered beneath the wolf pelt as she clutched it to her and nuzzled into it, pulling it close and breathing in deep. She hadn’t yet opened her eyes, but she could tell something was different. It wasn’t just the temperature in her room, but the smell and sounds around her and the breeze blasting her ankles. She shivered and pulled the pelt around her again, almost nervous to acknowledge that something was wrong and someone could potentially be in the room with her. She rubbed her eyes and slowly opened them. The shock hit her all at once, and she jumped up, flying back against the headboard, which was hard as stone.

  Moira was no longer in the adorably old-fashioned bed and breakfast, but in a large stone room that
looked like it could have been something out of a strange movie. Something not from her time at all. She looked down and the pelt was the only thing she recognized. Even her clothes had gone and she was wearing a long, raggy brown robe. She hugged her knees to her chest and got to her feet. When they touched the stone floor, the icy cold shot up her legs and made her tremble.

  “Where am I?” she said aloud as she rushed to the window.

  When she looked out, she could tell that she was in some sort of castle structure, and she was very high up from the ground. She was still in Scotland by the looks of things and from the view from her bed chamber, she could see the rolling hills and a lovely blue loch in the distance. The sun was shining, making the landscape look so beautiful and peaceful, but it was so cold, she shivered and was gripped with fear.

  “Kincaid Tower,” a gruff voice came from behind her. She turned to see a small woman standing in front of her. She was haggard and old, but her eyes were warm and welcoming.

  “What?” Moira asked.

  The woman laughed and shook her head before approaching her with a long and elaborately stitched green dress.

  “Here,” she said. “You look cold.”

  “It’s freezing,” Moira complained. “Who are you and what happened to the bed and breakfast?”

  The little woman looked at her as if she were crazy and shrugged.

  “You’ll have to get dressed quickly, lassie. Sir Hamish is on his way to see you.”

  “Who?” Moira protested as the woman pulled the dress down over her head and began to lace her in at the back.

  “Sir Hamish,” she laughed at her. “Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of him.”

  “Well to be honest…” She was about to launch into a long rant about how she actually hadn’t ever heard of him and that also she was completely confused as to what the hell was going on, but before she could finish her sentence, the door to the bed chamber burst open and a tall, hulking, red-haired man stood in front of her. His arms were thick and veiny, and he wore armor over his massive frame. Moira swallowed with shock as she looked up at him and realized that she did know him, and had indeed seem him before.