Silence drifted over them. Inwardly, she pleaded with her sister not to dispute the facts. Once Kate was safe, she'd worry about what would happen when her lies were discovered. She hoped her father would come to her aid once it was revealed she'd been kidnapped and there would be no need to demand a ransom from her dead husband.
“Your father and your husband will pay for you?”
“Aye.”
“You offer yourself in exchange for your sister, is that right?”
“It is.”
“Why should we not just keep both of you and demand more coin?”
“Ye can demand but ye shallnae get. There is no coin here. My father and husband are travelling to meet yer army. If ye want riches, ye must go to them. And that means ye shall need to keep me prisoner. 'Twill be easier to hold one lass hostage, will it not?”
Wolf chuckled. “You are two small women. You'll give us no trouble.”
“Nay, but my men will. They have been ordered to let ye leave unharmed with me, but that willnae be so should ye take my sister too. They are on those ramparts now, with arrows trained upon ye.”
Her throat nearly closed over while she waited for the man to debate her words. She heard his harsh breaths and the scuff of boots around them.
Release her, she silently pleaded. Let her lies work. Let them be convinced by her.
“We'll take ye from here and send word to yer father and husband, and yer men willnae follow us?” A rush of acrid breath washed over her and the grip on her arm near burned through her sleeve once more. “Because if they do, we shall kill ye and lay waste to this village.”
“They will do as I have commanded,” she replied, masking a shudder.
“As ye will then.”
Kate released a sob and Ceana reached out in the hopes of touching her.
“May I say farewell?”
“Aye,” the wolf agreed.
Kate stumbled into her and Ceana wrapped her arms about her younger sister. She felt her tremble. “Fraser awaits ye inside,” she murmured. “Dinnae let them come after me. Tell them to stay safe. All will be well, I swear it. And tell...tell Blane that I beg for his forgiveness.”
“He'll never forgive ye, Ceana,” she whispered back. “What have ye done?”
Kate was wrenched from her arms before she could reply. Likely she was right. Blane would never forgive her for taking matters into her own hands, but she could not let him do something rash for her. He'd done enough already. If she somehow escaped the clutches of the English, she doubted he would ever look upon her again.
Chapter Ten
Blane retrieved his weapon from the armoury. He hadn't seen Ceana and he thanked the Lord for that. He did not need her interfering when he rescued her sister.
He'd wait for a while longer—ensuring the Sassenachs had let down their guard before using the escape passageway to get Kate back. Pushing the sword into his belt, he considered how angry Ceana would be. But she would be grateful to have her sister back. And if he could kill a few of the English—or even all of them—he would.
Whether he would return alive was another thing. But had he continued in hunting them down, this never would have happened. He had to rectify this, and he had to do it alone. Blane wouldn't leave Ceana unprotected. The young lads led by Fraser might not be an army but they would do well enough keeping the castle protected until her cousin arrived.
If he ever did.
However, he thought it likely the English had come into contact with the Scots by now. Hopefully Bruce had led them to victory and her family would return.
Blane headed back into the hallway to seek out Fraser. He stilled, his heart near leaping out of his throat as he saw the lad embracing a dark-haired girl.
Kate.
He knew it then. Knew she'd done something foolish. A chasm opened up in his chest as though he'd been cleaved in two. He marched over to the couple.
“Where is she?” he demanded.
Kate turned a teary gaze on him. “Ceana offered herself in exchange. I tried to stop her, Blane. I told her not to.”
The pain that seared him was worse than any injury he'd ever suffered. The image of Ceana in the hands of the mercenaries almost blinded him. What could she have been thinking? He fought through the agony in his chest and drew in a breath.
“I have to go after her.”
Fraser nodded. “I will come with ye.”
“Nay, ye must remain. Protect the castle and the people. Who knows what will happen and these people need yer protection.”
Kate gripped Fraser's arm. “He's right. Ceana wanted the villagers safe. We have to protect them. Blane will get her back, will ye not?”
“Aye,” he vowed. “I shall see her safe even if it costs me my last breath.”
“I pray it doesnae,” Kate said. “Ceana willnae forgive herself.”
He didn't doubt it. Ceana was all too willing to take on the burdens of everyone and if he died, it would cut her deeply. But he would not say as much. Regardless of how it would affect her, should he be killed, her life was worth more than his. He had no choice.
“I shall follow on foot,” he declared.
It would make it easier to ensure he could get to them before they harmed Ceana. If he had to, he would stalk them until he could be assured they were resting and her rescue would be easy.
“I believe they intend to meet up with the rest of the English army. Ceana said Father will pay for her ransom.” She lowered her gaze. “She also said her husband will.”
He stilled. “Husband?”
“She lied, Blane. To make herself seem more valuable. What will they do to her when they discover as much?”
“Hell fire,” he muttered. “I must go after her now. There’s not a moment to waste.”
“They said if anyone followed they'd kill her and lay waste to the settlement.
“They shallnae know I am following, I swear it. I know these lands better than they do now.”
“Have a care, Blane,” Kate told him before he turned to leave.
He gave her a sharp nod and moved through the crowds to make his way out of the keep. Fist curled, he imagined Ceana making the same journey, knowing she was giving up herself to save her sister. Foolish lass. Damn her. What had she been thinking? Why could she not have trusted him to save her sister?
His shoulders brushed the damp walls of the dark confines of the passageway. She wouldn't be able to see in this light. She'd be totally at their mercy. Damn her, damn her, damn her. If she was harmed...
Swallowing down the tight knot that tangled his throat, he slipped out of the castle. He took his time to scan the area. The Sassenachs wouldn't have made much progress, even on horses, but he couldn't let himself be spotted. As much as an urgent thrum through his body urged him to race ahead and snatch Ceana from their grasp, they were ten men and he was one. He would be putting her in danger if he reacted rashly.
Once he'd established that the shadowy figures making their way up over the mountains were the English, he began his careful journey around the loch. He would be going farther around but he could make his way back up and follow their tracks until night. Then, once they were resting, he'd snatch Ceana and slaughter them all.
Blane walked until his thighs burned and the sun glinted over the mountains in blinding orange streams. He kept to the streams and gulleys, using the rugged terrain as cover until he found signs of footprints. They were headed south to join the rest of the English, as predicted. Whatever happened, he couldn't let them get that far. If they discovered there was no ransom from a worried husband, Ceana was as good as dead. And she had likely known that. Brave, foolish lass.
“I'm coming for ye,” he murmured to the wind as though the words might transport to her.
Would they have discovered her lack of sight? Used it against her? Was she stumbling across this unknown terrain at present, likely bruised and battered?
The raw ache in his chest refused to abate so he thought on other things
. How satisfying it would be to run his blade through the Sassenachs, how he would cherish the terror in their eyes as he sought his revenge. But the usual thrill of bloodlust did not fire through his body. Mostly because his mind transported him elsewhere. Into Ceana's arms, into a world where she was safe and he had not made many, many mistakes. Once he got her back...
Blane stopped only to drink from a stream and eat some hard bread he'd tucked in his plaid. He hadn't slept but his mind blazed clear and his body refused to give in. Sleep could wait. By the time the skies were growing grey, he had travelled some distance in pursuit, coming upon an increasingly rocky and damp terrain. He climbed for some time, his stomach rolling with dread when he could no longer track them. What if he had lost their trail?
But shortly before night fell, he came upon their horses tied up. He crouched behind a rock. They must have rested at some point during the night for him to have caught up with them so quickly, though he’d been moving at a fair pace. Ceana had to be exhausted. They were some distance ahead, making their way up the craggy rock face of the hill toward an opening in the rocks. They clearly intended to spend the night there.
Muscles stiff, he remained crouched for some time
He hoped some of them were resting. Whatever he did, he couldn't let them harm Ceana.
What he was actually going to do, he knew not. All he knew was he had a dagger in one hand and a blade on his hip. As long as there was breath in his body, he'd fight for Ceana. He swallowed hard and began to make his way up to the opening in the rocks. Water trickled underfoot and he pictured her huddled in the dark, blind and terrified, cold and alone.
But not for much longer.
Blane gradually realised the Sassenachs must have been using the cave as a base. He stalked slowly through the winding passageway as it carved deeper into the hillside and found they'd mounted lit torches further in. He hadn't been able to see them earlier because they'd clearly kept them deep inside the cave to hide their position. But the faint flicker of golden light on most corners made moving across the uneven ground easier. He wasn't sure how Ceana would have fared. He prayed they hadn't mishandled her while she struggled to keep up with them.
I'm coming, wildling, he uttered in his mind. He could swear he sensed her close by. His fingertips tingled and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. The connection between them was stronger than he'd realised—or perhaps than he'd wanted to admit. Blane could not help think that once he got her back, he wouldn't let her go.
He paused at the sight of a shadow, dancing across the wall. No fear made his heart pound. Any clamminess on his palms vanished. He was able to forget Ceana for the moment while his senses quietened and focused. This was always how it had been for him in battle. Once the enemy was upon him, a quiet sense of certainty came over him. He'd heard of Viking Berserkers who went mad and killed everything in their path. He'd even seen men do similar. But that was not him. With a blade in his hand, he could dispatch life quickly and efficiently.
As much as he wanted these men to suffer, they would be blessed with such a death by his hands. For Ceana's sake, he was willing to give them that.
He moved swiftly, dagger in hand. The man never even uttered a sound against the hand Blane clamped over his mouth as he ran his blade across his throat. Stickiness coated his palm and the Englishman sagged. He lowered him to the ground and moved on.
Would there be many more watchmen? Or were the English so confident in their hideout that they only stationed one man to keep watch?
He found out soon enough. Another man at a wider opening. There was a brief scuffle and the sound carried. He prayed it sounded like no more than someone taking a tumble or scuffing their feet on the ground out of boredom. The man died in much the same way as the first, however, a slice to his throat taking the life from him. Blane took the time to push the body aside into the dark, damp recess of the cave. From the voices that carried along the tunnel, he was close to the main camp. It wouldn't hurt to hide the evidence of his deeds this close to them.
Blane tucked away his dagger and drew out his blade. He was going to get Ceana back.
Chapter Eleven
Dampness seeped through her skirt. Ceana bunched up her knees and wrapped her arms around her legs. A dripping sound and the feel of wet rock against her back told her well enough about where they were. The voices of the Englishmen echoed off the rocks and she tried to picture the inside of the cave. Dark, damp and inhospitable probably. A fine place to hide, though.
She tried to listen to their conversations but her English was not good enough to keep up with them. So far, no one had spoken to her except to tell her to hurry up or to bark a curse at her while she was dragged along. Her feet pounded and the scratches on her arms and legs from where she'd tumbled several times stung. Fatigue made her eyes gritty and an ache had started up at the base of her skull. She put her head to her knees and closed her eyes.
Sleep would never come. As much as she needed to keep herself healthy, she knew it would never come. All she could think on was how furious Blane would be. Would he hate her forever for making this decision?
Even though her muscles tightened every time footsteps came near and the few whispered threats that had been hissed at her when she struggled to keep up still rang through her mind, she couldn't bring herself to regret her decision. She was the head of her household. It was her duty to see everyone safe. As much as she'd wanted Blane's help, she certainly never wanted him to put himself in danger for them. She was valuable to the English, he was not. It was the only way.
But she doubted he'd see it that way. Had he not scolded her for trying to do things alone? Oh, Blane. How she wished she was warm and comfortable in his arms right now. An empty sensation sat in her chest and she knew it was because of him—or because of the lack of him. Somehow, that man had worked into her heart and she needed him as much as air.
Ceana drew up her chin and stared into the darkness to try to make out the positions of the men. She heard a fire and felt tiny tendrils of its warmth but no one came to draw her over to it or offer her sustenance. They would have to at some point surely? If they wanted their ransom money, they needed her alive. Her stomach grumbled and she prayed she was right about that. Much longer without food and rest, and her composure would crumble.
“Here.” Something was flung at her—a thin blanket of some kind—and she grasped it tight. Footsteps and the squeak of leather boots. A hiss of breath near her face. “Keep warm. We’ve a long way to travel on the morrow. If you can’t walk, I’ll drag you.” It was Wolf or a man she’d come to know was named Gervase.
Ceana draped the blanket over her shoulders and tugged it tight. It was worn and she felt spots of cold through what had to be holes. If she didn’t rest, it was very likely Gervase would have to drag her on the morrow.
So far, none of them had paid enough attention to discover her lack of sight. They cursed her for being clumsy and laughed when she stumbled and fell. Unknown terrain was too hard for her to walk on, even with the limited vision daylight gave her. Hopefully the cave was too dark for her captors to realise she couldn’t see them.
A slightly strangled noise came from the left of her. She scowled and heard Gervase’s curse. There was the sound of a struggle and then the clang of metal upon metal. She cried out when someone’s foot knocked into her and a burst of pain wracked her ribs. What was happening?
Before Ceana could come to her feet, a hand wrapped around her arm. She couldn’t help but cry out again as she was hauled upward, her arm wrenching painfully.
“Kill him!” Gervase commanded.
Her heart stilled in her chest. It couldn’t be. Oh sweet Mary, was it? What was he thinking? More clangs, more scuffling feet. Curses and cries of pain. She wished she could see. Was it really Blane?
Then the release on her arm eased and she tugged away to flatten herself against the wall. The entrance way was to her left. Should she risk moving that way? Where was Blane? Would she
get in the way? She shuffled over and heard a thud in front of her. Pausing, she put out her foot and slapped a hand over her mouth to muffle her whimper. It was a body. Blane’s?
“Ceana.”
Relief washed through her. A warm hand clasped her own and tugged her along.
“Trust me,” Blane told her as she flinched when the clang of metal rang out.
He had to know she could see nothing and had no idea how close to death either of them were. She didn’t even know how many Sassenachs were still alive.
“I do,” she managed to say back before being pulled along again.
And she did. She trusted this man with her life...with her heart too. Here she was, vulnerable, sightless, stumbling across sharp rocks with the enemy at their back, but she knew he’d keep her safe. Together, they’d triumph.
“Quickly now,” he urged. “Not far to go.”
They moved at a fair pace and she stumbled several times but he caught her. She heard footsteps and shouts behind them. Fingers of horror crept up her spine at the idea of them following. Not all of her captors were dead then. Exertion and fear made her heart pound but the reassuring strength of Blane’s grip eased her fear and kept her courage fired.
Faint flashes of golden light occasionally highlighted her vision but they weren’t enough to tell her of their position in the cave or to allow her to see their surroundings. Finally, a waft of cool air struck her face and they spilled outside.
“We’re being followed.” Blane pulled her into his chest, and she gripped his plaid. “Hide and I shall ensure they dinnae continue to do so.”
He guided her to what felt like some trees and bid her to crouch down.
“Blane, dinnae be harmed,” she begged. “Come back to me.”
“Aye. Aye, I will, mo gràdh.”
Her heart spasmed at the words but she had no chance to respond. His footsteps told her he was gone. Ceana had little idea how long she waited. Time seemed irrelevant with only the distant sound of a wolf and her pounding heart for company. Come back to me, come back to me. She recalled the scent of him and the feel of his strong body. How she longed to feel and smell him again.
Her Highland Defender Page 9