The Highland Commander

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The Highland Commander Page 25

by Amy Jarecki


  “Och, you’re not afraid of a wee bit o’ rain, are you, lass?”

  “Just tired of being wet.”

  “Mayhap if we pass a barn we can wait out the squall.” The path led into a copse of trees. The wind blew their golden leaves in spirals as they showered to the ground. The gale howled and the trees groaned. With the racket, a sense of dread snaked around Aiden’s neck. He spurred his horse to a canter. “Let us haste out of the wood.”

  When he turned back to ensure Maddie followed, the dread hit him in the gut like a block of ice.

  Four riders wearing flour sacks over their heads were closing in on Maddie’s gelding.

  He’d heard many a tale about lawlessness on the borders, and the sight of the outlaws made his blood run cold. “Faster!” Aiden hollered, holding back long enough for her to catch up. “Reivers.”

  She glanced back. “Oh God.”

  “Dig in your heels.” Damnation, neither of them was wearing spurs, and he bet everyone in the mob behind them wore a set.

  Driving rain stung his face as they galloped through the wood. His heart thundered while Aiden desperately searched for a farmhouse—or any sign of humanity they could run to.

  These were outlaws for certain—fabled border reivers who preyed on their English neighbors and anyone else who happened to pass through their lands. The horses snorted as their hooves pummeled the earth.

  Aiden pulled up when, around the bend, they were met with a white-masked varlet aiming a pistol their way.

  Good God, they set a trap.

  Charging down a path to the right, he grabbed one of Maddie’s reins and led her in the only direction not blocked by outlaws. Harder and harder he kicked his heels while the skies above flashed with lightning, followed by a thunderous boom.

  Blinded by spitting rain, he pushed the horses forward, demanding more speed.

  The trees opened to an enormous outcropping, forcing Aiden to pull to a stop. Fanning their horses into an arc, the outlaws surrounded them. Aiden had led them straight into their snare.

  Aiden pulled Maddie’s horse behind him, then drew his sword, his hand slipping on the wet hilt.

  “You’re outnumbered, mate,” said the tallest through his makeshift mask.

  Aiden sliced his sword through the air in an X. “I can take the lot of you, ye milk-livered backstabbers.”

  The men encroached, walking their horses closer.

  “I mean it.” Aiden slashed his sword again while rainwater streamed into this eyes. “Stay back.”

  “Give us your purse,” said one.

  Aiden shifted his gaze across the bedraggled lot of bandits, buying time. “Is that all you want? A wee bit of coin?”

  “And the lass,” said a shorter one. He didn’t have a firm grip on his sword, and was clearly the weakest of the lot.

  “Not on your life.” Baring his teeth, Aiden spurred his mount toward the weakest and with an upward blow knocked the sword from the blighter’s hand, sending him toppling backward.

  In a blur the outlaws attacked from all sides. Aiden spun his mount, praying Maddie was all right. As the blades hacked and jabbed, he couldn’t spare a blink to glance her way.

  Hit from behind, he crashed over his horse’s withers only to meet a blade swinging toward his face. As he countered to the right, his horse bucked and reared. Unable to keep his seat, Aiden crashed to the mud. His backside hit hard, but the pain didn’t register. Springing to his feet, he charged the nearest assailant, cutting the cur across the flank.

  Bellowing, the outlaw countered with a pommel strike to the top of Aiden’s head. His eyes rolled back and his gut churned as he tightened his fist around his sword.

  His stomach heaved.

  His knees buckled and the world went black.

  Shivering with cold and lying in the mud, Aiden forced himself to open his eyes. Through the misty rain he made out two corpses but five paces away—the two he’d struck down before being bludgeoned. His skull pounded as if it had been cracked in half. He slid his hand over his hair, then regarded the sticky blood covering his fingers. Moving to his knees, he vomited over and over again, until he brought up yellow bile that burned his throat raw.

  His gaze swept the surroundings for Magdalen. His shoulders dropped like an anvil the size of the Bass Rock had been chained around his neck.

  Christ, he felt like shite—worse, the rain had soaked him clean through. He pressed the heels of his hands to his temples, willing the world to stop spinning.

  Throwing back his head, he bellowed, “Maaaaaaddieeeee!”

  Hunched over in a crouch, he waited for her to respond. A chill iced through his blood, though it did not surprise him when he heard nothing but the call of the birds in response. Grunting like an ox, he lumbered to his feet and swiped his hand over his eyes to clear his vision.

  The bastards had taken everything—his sword, dirk, and sporran, his horse, and, worst of all, Maddie. He couldn’t even begin to think about what they would do to her.

  Rubbing his arms, he snorted. At least the miserable curs hadn’t found his daggers. They must have thought him dead like their comrades, else someone would have run him through. He stumbled over to one of the corpses. “Where the bloody hell are you from?” he asked, nudging him with his toe.

  The man’s lifeless body flopped. Well, Aiden would find out soon enough. Damn it all, he’d flashed a bit of coin in Coldstream. Someone must have tipped the bastards off, though they could have been highwaymen lying in ambush, waiting to plunder the first passerby.

  Aiden searched the dead men for weapons and came up empty.

  Bloody marvelous. Stranded in the Lowlands with nothing but two daggers and the sopping-wet clothes on my back. No greater marquis vagabond hath there ever been.

  Carefully he stepped around the clearing and examined the tracks. One of the horses had thrown a shoe, making it easier to track.

  Aiden coughed back his next heave and wiped his mouth on his arm. He’d follow Maddie to the ends of the earth if needed. No, he’d not behave like a wilting flower and succumb to a knock on the head. He was a Murray, goddammit. He’d fought in countless sea battles and had survived. No ill-breeding band of outlaws would get the better of him.

  And if they lay one finger on my woman, I’ll sever their ballocks and stuff them down their throats.

  Stumbling ahead, Aiden focused on the print with the missing horseshoe. A mile later his head didn’t hurt quite so much. Aye, he felt like shite, but he pushed his pain to the back of his mind and focused on one thing.

  Magdalen Keith.

  Another mile and he hastened his pace to an easy trot, all the while imagining the many ways in which he would kill the miserable outlaws—men who were too cowardly to show their faces. Men who had no right to traverse the soil of his beloved Scotland.

  Chapter Thirty

  The hairy brute who appeared to be the band’s leader pulled Maddie from her mount and shoved her into a horse stall. “Two of my kin died because of you and that backstabbing bastard who tried to butcher us.”

  Butcher? Aiden was defending us.

  She scooted out of reach of his boot. She wouldn’t put it past this monster to try to give her a kick. Her throat was sore from tensing, and from suppressing anguished wails while they forced her farther away from Aiden’s body.

  “Och, ’tis a good thing I struck him on top of his skull,” said a second man, holding up Aiden’s sporran. Then he glared at Maddie. “We should have killed the wench with the Highlander.”

  Her entire body tensed. Her breathing came in short gasps. She’d watched it all. After the blow to the head, Aiden had dropped like a sack of grain to his face.

  Dead.

  God, no. I still cannot believe it.

  She couldn’t think straight. Her wrists bound, she clenched her fists against her body while she shook.

  The brute eyed her while he grumbled, “Kill a wench as bonny as this one? Nay, nay, I aim to claim my reward from her afore w
e do her in.”

  Sweat stung under her arms. Pulling down the corners of her mouth, she glared at the murderer standing before her. A lowlife of the worst sort. “You. Will. Not. Touch me.”

  “Ye think not?” He laughed like an evil banshee. “Och, MacFee, the wee lassie is spewing threats.”

  Maddie kept her eyes on the brute while she slid to the far corner. Why couldn’t he leave her alone? She swept her gaze across the stall, looking for a way out. She had no weapon—not even an eating knife.

  The beast sauntered toward her. Ugly, with bushy eyebrows and a black beard that took up most of his face, he should have kept the flour sack over his head. “I aim to have a wee bit o’ fun with you.” He reached for his belt and tugged.

  Maddie shook her head. “You’d best stay back.”

  With a yellow-toothed sneer, he cast the belt to the ground. “Or what? Ye think you can come after a burly man the likes of me?”

  “If you lay a finger on me, you’ll live to regret it.” She prayed. Surely her father would rain vengeance—if anyone ever found her body.

  Dropping to his knees, he reached back and grabbed her plait, pulling hard. “Now I suggest you scoot down flat on your back and spread your legs. Make it easy on yourself.”

  A mixture of terror and revulsion made the air whoosh from her lungs. She couldn’t breathe. “No,” she shrieked, and spit in his face.

  “Bitch,” he snapped, wiping away the spittle with his shoulder, and pulling her plait so hard her neck was about to snap. “You prefer it rough, do you?”

  Thrashing her head from side to side, she pounded her bound fists against his chest. “Leave me be!”

  He grabbed her chin in a dirty palm and licked her across the lips. “Ha ha.” He pressed his body against hers. “Struggle all you want, lass. I like it when my wench has a bit of kick.”

  “Bhreac,” called MacFee from outside the stall. “Come have a look at this.”

  “I’m busy,” growled the black-bearded swine.

  “You want your bare arse shot whilst you swive the wench?”

  The brute pushed Maddie against the wall. Her head hit hard. Then he turned his face away. “What are you on about, MacFee?”

  “Come.”

  Bhreac pointed to Maddie and scowled. “I’ll be back.” Then he picked up his belt.

  Maddie gulped, watching his retreating form. She couldn’t allow him near her again. He closed the stall door, the iron bolt scraping into place. Locked inside with no escape, she hid her face in her palms and silently screamed. Oh God, how had she ended up in this mess? Accused of trying to assassinate the queen, and now captured by a band of lawless tinkers? And with Aiden’s lifeless body lying in the mud back at the outcropping?

  How could she escape these murderers?

  Aiden needed a proper burial. Though she’d seen the blow to his head with her own eyes, she still couldn’t believe he was gone.

  God, no. It cannot be.

  “You called me away for this?” Bhreac’s deep voice seeped through the wall.

  “’Tis a document seal.”

  “I bloody well ken what it is.”

  “But ’tis fancy—with a stag’s head, like it belongs to someone important.”

  “Och, that pair were tinkers for certain. What I want to ken is how much coin did you find?”

  “A few guineas mainly… uh… but the booty isn’t why I called you out here.”

  “Fuck,” Bhreac growled. “What are a mob of dragoons doing riding on our lands?”

  Maddie’s heart hammered. What was worse, facing the noose or being raped and having her throat cut? Her entire body froze. She could scarcely breathe.

  “Dunno, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it has something to do with this seal.”

  “Well, whatever you do, don’t show it to the bastards. Hide the booty. What little there is. I’ll go silence our wee plaything.” With another scrape of the bolt, Bhreac stepped into the stall holding a rag in his hand. “Tell me true. Why would we have dragoons breathing down our necks?”

  Maddie cringed. “Because they’re hunting highwaymen and shipping them to the Colonies, I’d reckon.”

  “Bitch.” The lout lunged forward and gagged her with a filthy rag, tying it behind her head. “I’m warning you, not a peep, or you’ll be the first to die.”

  When the sound of horses approached, he moved to the door.

  “Jesus,” cursed MacFee. “I kent we should have brought the bodies back here for burial.”

  The hoofbeats grew nearer, then stopped. “Hello the barn,” said a man with an English accent.

  “Hiya.”

  “We found these corpses a few miles north of here. You wouldn’t happen to know who they are?” asked the Englishman.

  “Good God.” Bhreac sounded almost believably bereft. “They were kin.”

  “You have any idea what happened?”

  “Nay.” Footsteps crunched the ground. “Wonder what they were doing up there?”

  “We thought the same. We’re following a man and a woman, but their trail went cold after we found this pair run through.”

  Pair? Maddie’s heart skipped a beat. Run through? Where is Aiden?

  “They murdered my cousins?” Bhreac bellowed as if he’d been shot with an arrow to the heart. “Who are these outlaws?”

  Maddie choked back a gasp through her gag.

  “Gave a name of Mr. and Mrs. Blair to Captain Child. He said the couple stowed away on his ship—looked like they were running from Her Majesty’s soldiers when they sailed from London.”

  Pardon? Maddie sat forward. We were paying passengers, for pity’s sake.

  “Do you reckon there’s a reward for these murdering varlets?” asked the black-bearded cur.

  And now the pillaging thief is looking for more booty.

  “Might be. Haven’t heard of one as of yet, but if they plundered your kin, they’ll hang for certain,” the soldier said with conviction. “I’ve sent a missive to London, telling them we’re on their trail. Odd, though…”

  “What’s that?”

  “The tracks led us straight here.”

  “Er… well, ah, thanks for bringing our kin,” Bhreac mumbled. “After we’ve given them a right Christian burial, we’ll be seeking our vengeance.”

  “You’d best let the government troops take care of justice—but if you come across any more information as to the whereabouts of that pair, I’d be obliged if you reported it to the garrison in Kelso.”

  “Will do. Thank you, Captain.”

  “Richardson.”

  Maddie sat very still and listened to the horses ride away. If she had tried to cry out through the gag, she would have been arrested and taken back to London. And where was Aiden? The dragoons had found only two bodies. Was there hope?

  She sank her fingers into the hay and touched something smooth.

  “Give me that seal,” growled Bhreac from beyond the wall before the latch to the stall scraped and the door opened.

  Gradually Maddie moved her hands and folded them in her lap.

  “Mrs. Blair, is it?”

  She gave a single nod.

  “Well then.” He moved forward and held out Aiden’s seal. “Tell me why your husband was carrying this.”

  “A-oi-a-oi-a,” she garbled through the gag.

  “Bloody hell.” He slipped back and untied the rag. “Speak fast, for I am not a patient man.”

  Maddie spat out gritty dirt. “’Tis a document seal, you buffoon.”

  “Of someone important, for certain.” He twisted the rag between his fists. “You ken what I reckon?”

  Not giving him the satisfaction of a reply, she looked away.

  “I reckon you’re in trouble with the government, and moreover, once Captain Richardson receives a reply from London, my guess is there will be a reward for your head, and I aim to claim it—and the same for the ornery varlet you were traveling with.”

  Her chin tilted upward. “I thought
you said you killed him.”

  “I did. But dead men don’t disappear.”

  Aiden hid behind an old ruin of crumbling stone and watched the soldiers ride away from the decrepit barn. Beside it stood a sod shieling with grass sprouting from its thatched roof. With the absence of a chimney, smoke seeped out one end.

  So it appeared Captain Child had sent the dragoons after them from Alnwick.

  The entire borderlands would be crawling with redcoats itching to make a name for themselves.

  At present, however, Aiden harbored more worry about the outlaws who’d kidnapped Maddie. During the entire interchange between the brigands and the troops, he’d feared the bastards would hand her over to the authorities. Stealing her back from a few scraggly outlaws would be a hell of a lot easier than breaking her out of some prison guarded by innumerous dragoons.

  He’d run from the clearing and dodged the soldiers as they rode up and back along the path he was following, and now his legs were spent along with his throbbing head.

  Chasing after a mob of dragoons on horseback could have set him back days, but if Maddie was still with the outlaws, his chances were better.

  Once the redcoats were gone, Aiden crouched low and scurried to the back of the barn, where he’d be out of sight. Pulling an ax from a chopping block, he almost grinned. For once fortune might be with him.

  Now I have a weapon, you bastards.

  “I thought you said you killed him.” Maddie’s muffled voice came through the wall, thank the Lord.

  “I did. But dead men don’t disappear,” came the gruff voice of one of the lowlife maggots who’d attacked them.

  Aiden’s blood boiled.

  At least she’s still alive.

  “I’ll ask you once… why are the dragoons looking for you?”

  “You’re mistaken.”

  Something banged loudly. “You rutting bitch, you’ll give me answers.”

  Maddie shrieked with pain.

  Tightening his grip on the ax handle, Aiden sprinted for the entry.

  More shouts came.

  Against his gut instincts, he forced himself to stop at the open door. He pressed his back against the wall and peered around the doorjamb.

 

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