Highland Wish

by Colleen MacGregor

  “Lady MacGregor, welcome to Bannock Castle.”

  I look up into the eyes of my captor and remain silent. Better they believe I’m indeed Lady MacGregor. If they knew the truth, I’d be dead.

  “I regret your accommodations may be less favorable than you’re used to, but if your husband is smart, then he’ll comply with our demands and you’ll be home before long. While you’re here, you will not be harmed.”

  I snort in response to the vile little man. He slaps me across the face so hard I stagger backward. My ears ring, and I taste blood in my mouth.

  “You’ll not be harmed, but you will be respectful. A woman should know her place. Your husband has been far too lenient with you and that son of yours. We failed to capture young Duncan, but you proved to be an easier quarry.”

  So my captors are Murrays. I don’t know what the grudge is. First they tried to abduct Duncan and now they abduct Lady MacGregor. Or so they think.

  “We’ve sent a ransom to your husband my lady. No doubt he’ll comply, and you’ll be home shortly.”

  I don’t reply for fear I’ll give myself away. What could the ransom be? What could they want? I will have time to think about it since the evil little man escorts me back to my cell.

  Alone again, all I can do is think. My whole body feels as though I’ve been beaten, and my mouth still tastes of blood. My lip is fat and split. I’m exhausted, but I don’t dare close my eyes. I’m not sure what I’ll wake to in this dark, filthy room. It stinks of mildew and sweat, and I can only imagine how many prisoners have been held here. Died here. What a terrible end, alone in the dark. It’s easy to let melancholy set in while sitting in the cold silence.

  “What am I doing here?” I say out loud to no one. Maybe I shouldn’t have let myself enjoy life among the MacGregor’s.

  As I lay in this dark, dank miserable pit, I vaguely hear a rumbling like a storm approaching. Everything is muffled in the dungeon so I can’t be sure. The thunder turns into voices, and suddenly light floods into the hallway. I turn my head away and close my eyes to the light.

  “Katherine!”

  I know that voice. I can’t believe he found me.

  “Angus.” His name has become like a prayer to me.

  Though the lock on the door is made of iron it’s no match for his claymore. Sparks, like fireworks, light up the cell as metal meets metal. As the door flies open, all I can think is that I must remain conscious. With his sword still in one hand, Angus lowers himself, pulling me from the dungeon floor and depositing me over his shoulder. Though my body aches and I want to vomit, I hold it together. He quickly makes his way up the steps and out into the light where the battle is well under way.

  When the guard sees that he has me, we make our retreat out of the castle gates. Some of the Murray men are still in pursuit, but as we make our way to the waiting horses, Angus manages to fend them off with one hand. Though I’m upside down, I can see the blood of the Murray clan painting the stone floor crimson.

  Once on our horse, he settles me into his lap and we’re off. We race away from the castle and keep going until twilight. Much of our escape is spent on horseback with few stops and it’s a brutal pace but we can’t slow down until we’ve distanced ourselves. I can’t seem to control my shaking body, but being soothed by Angus makes me feel better. He murmurs something that sounds like Gaelic songs into my filthy hair, and all I can think is that I must stink.

  When we finally stop to rest the horses, it’s full dark. The men move about quietly. They each know their role. Angus passes me down to a guard and then takes me back when he’s down from the horse. The murmuring voices of the guards making camp and hitching the horses for a rest is all I hear. We won’t be staying long, and we can’t light a fire until we’re farther from Murray land.

  Angus takes a seat among the men, placing me in his lap. His back to a tree, one arm still firmly around my waist, he reaches for his knife and cuts my bonds. After replacing his blade, he gently rubs my wrists with his thumbs. We still haven’t spoken. We sit silently, and I watch while the men pass some food. It’s nothing but bread and dried meat, but it’s more than I’ve had in God knows how long. I try to eat the bread, but my mouth still hurts. As I put my fingers to my lips to feel how swollen and cracked they are, he takes my hand.

  “Let me see, Katherine.”

  It’s impossibly dark now, but he still looks at me like we are sitting out in the sun. Running his thumb lightly across my lower lip he growls.

  “Does it pain ye?” With tears streaming lightly down my face, I nod. He hands me the flask of whiskey, and I take a sip. I don’t usually drink hard alcohol, but it’s warm in my stomach and will hopefully deaden the pain for now. I take another sip as he watches me. When I hand the flask back to him, he closes it and puts it by his side. He wipes the tears from my face.

  “Lay your head, lass,” he says, “we’ll be on the road soon.”

  “I can’t, Angus. All I see is his face.” I weep.

  “Yer safe, mo ghràidh,” he says. “I’ll tell ye a tale but ye must close your eyes.”

  I nod and close my eyes as he murmurs his Gaelic tale as I fall asleep. It’s odd, but beaten and filthy as I am, in his arms, I feel completely safe.

  My eyeballs feel like sandpaper, and my whole body feels like I’d fallen down a flight of stairs. I have cottonmouth from the whiskey and a fat lip. I must smell like the pits of hell and look like I’ve been there. I can’t wait to get clean and sleep for days. If I wasn’t in so much pain, I’d be completely embarrassed at how awful I must look and smell.

  I can probably bathe in lavender for a week and still smell like dank and horse. Super. Angus probably can’t wait to get me off his lap and out of his nose. It’s light now, and the morning sunrise is lovely in the countryside.

  Once past the abbey and much further up the road, we come upon a town. I feel like I’m on a backpacker’s tour of Europe. The construction of the buildings must have been sturdy because many of the modern homes still look like this. Window boxes burst with flowers, and we dismount and make our way into the inn. Each Guardsman, individually, is massive but all of them together is overwhelming.

  As we crowd into the inn, Angus gives orders. “James, ye’ll take Bryn and Connor and keep watch. The rest of ye will take turns while Katherine rests. Get some food and drink. We’ll depart at noontime.”

  He gives his orders to the innkeeper for a hot bath and food as he carries me up the stairs. A short time later, a tub is being filled. The savory scent of hot stew and warm bread is comforting. It momentarily distracts me from my battered state. It occurs to me, as I watch the men fill the tub that I am still in Angus’s arms. The man must be dead on his feet, and I tell him as much.

  “Put me down Angus. I stink and you’re tired.”

  He completely ignores me. At least that hasn’t changed. When the last of the water has been dumped into the tub, the men depart and close the door. It suddenly feels very claustrophobic in the room.

  “Angus,” my voice scratches, “please put me down now. I’ll take a bath quickly, or you can have yours first. I can go wait downstairs.”

  Instead of arguing with me, he closes his eyes and leans his forehead against mine. He must be exhausted.

  Angry now, I squirm, “Angus, dammit. Put me down right now. I’m tired and filthy, and you’re dead on your feet. You can stop now. We’re safe.”

  He opens his navy-blue eyes and as usual, I have no idea what’s going on in his mind. My feet finally touch the floor. He turns me around, and I feel his hands on the ties of my dress. My protest is weak since I love his hands on me.

  “Hush now. Ye want yer bath while it’s still hot.” Oh no, no, no. “What do you think you’re doing? I can undress myself.”

  He continues on as if I haven’t spoken. I try to p
ull away, but it’s no use. He’s determined and by now is almost done with the ties and buttons. As he moves closer to loosen my bindings, I should be able to breathe better. Instead, I forget how to draw a breath. I felt his knuckles along my spine as he loosens my stays, and he is close enough now to feel his breath in my hair.

  “Ugh, my hair. I must smell like a dirty horse.” And I pull away, finally taking advantage of his distraction at my unladylike words to turn from him. “Thank you, but I think I can take it from here.” I think that’s dismissal enough.

  Apparently not, because he walks toward me, and I back up until my thighs bump into the side of the tub.

  “The water’s getting cold. Get in.”

  He’s not suggesting I take a bath with him in the room.

  “Get out, Angus. I’ll be fast if you want to take one, too, but for now, you have to leave.” He has incredibly long eyelashes for a man. Not fair. He reaches up and brushes his fingertips gently across my shoulder blades, pushing my shift off my shoulders. I’m lost, speechless.

  “I’ll wash yer hair. Get in the water now before I put you in myself.”

  As dirty as I am, I want him to put me in the water. I want him in the water with me. Dear God, I want him on the floor this instant, but I can’t tell him that. Instead of telling him that, I argue with him. It’s easier.

  “Turn around and I’ll get in.”

  And so he sighs and turns. As I shed the dress, I gently sit in the tub of steaming hot water. It was almost too hot, but I don’t care. It’s glorious. With scratchy soap in my hands, I scrub the prison grime from my body as best I can without revealing too much. When I get to my neck, Angus takes the soap from me and begins washing the tangled mass of my hair. It’s an intimate thing to wash someone. To share this intimacy is certainly something one only does with your wife or mistress. I’m neither.

  I wonder what he thinks of me now that I’ve allowed him to see me half naked in a bathtub. He rinses me a final time and walks to the chair to get a towel to wrap me. He holds it up and expects me to get into it. At this point, I really don’t see the need for modesty, so I allow him to wrap me up and carry me to the bedside chair.

  “I can take it from here you know. I have bathed myself before.”

  I look up into his face and expect to see him annoyed with me, but instead I see something that, quite frankly, scares me. Instead of lowering his face and pressing his lips to mine, he lowers me to the bed and pulls the covers over me. I feel cherished and loved. I want him to stay with me. Damn him and his honor. Bringing over the bread and stew, he places them on my lap and leaves the room. The infuriating man. As I take a bite of the stew, I realize I am hungrier than I thought and finish it before long. With a full belly and smelling better, I lie back against the soft pillow and close my eyes.

  Angus wakes me a short time later. He brings me some bread and cheese and after I dress, we continue on our way back to the castle. As we ride, I can admit I’m glad to be returning, but I’m more confused than ever.

  He’s so different from the men I’m used to. Angus represents something raw and pure. He’s honorable and brave, and duty isn’t something he takes lightly. Trying to think of him out of the context of this time, I could see him as a police officer or fireman. I can’t imagine what a date with him would be like. Would he take me to dinner and a movie or would we meet for drinks?

  We spend another day on the horse and although it’s a long journey, I love having his arms around me. The closeness of his legs brushing against mine heightens my senses, and I fear that if we don’t get off the horse soon, I may combust.

  “We’re nearing the castle,” Angus says.

  I look back at Angus as he looks straight ahead.

  “I haven’t thanked you for rescuing me. I owe you my life.” He makes a noise low in his throat that I’ve come to know as distinctly Scots. I smile, and too late remember my lip is split. I bring my fingers to my lips and wince hoping I didn’t open my wound.

  “He willna bother you again.”

  He’s looking at me this time.

  Once in the courtyard, Duncan runs out to meet us. “Lady Katherine, you’re safe! We were so worried. The devil take the Murrays!”

  Lady MacGregor joins Duncan beside me.

  “Katherine, we’re so happy you’re back safely. Are you badly injured?” She surveys my lip and cheek, and I can see the question in her eyes.

  “No. I’m well other than my face. I must look terrible,” I sigh.

  “Certainly not. You’ve just been through an ordeal. You’ll come upstairs to recover.” I don’t bother to argue. I wouldn’t mind a rest after the long journey.

  Once in my room, Mary hugs me and doesn’t let go.

  “I’m so happy yer safe, lass. I knew Angus would get you back. He gathered the men and took off as soon as we knew you were missing.”

  Chapter 9

  The next few weeks pass in a blur. I try to remain calm and focus on my lessons with the children. I’ll do anything as a distraction from the dress fittings and talk of suitors. The preparations for the games are being made and as the responses start coming in, the excitement builds to a frenzy.

  I walk into the kitchen as the women are chatting while cooking. Something they’ve gotten down to an art.

  “Alisdair MacDonald and Ewan Buchanan are my favorites for the games,” Myrtle says.

  “How can ye say that? Donald McMurtle cannot be beat with a sword,” Mrs. McCray scoffs.

  “Yer daft! Graham Ross is the favorite,” says another from the crowded kitchen. The debate is heated. Cheers and hisses fill the air. You’d think we were talking about the Yankees and the Red Sox. I’ve gotten used to the tournament talk recently. Everyone is excited, and it’s difficult not to be pulled into it.

  They are even taking bets on the winners for each event, as well as the overall winner. I’ve tried to convince Lord and Lady MacGregor not to offer my hand, but they won’t budge. They actually laugh at me. I must have been a sight, ranting and pleading my case. I offered all of my reasons why this idea is so absurd to no avail.

  Cook’s voice rings out above the chatter, “You’re all wasting your coin. Angus willna let anyone else win.”

  I need a break from the debate, and as I look out the door, I decide it’s a great day for a stroll to the waterfall. I’ve heard Duncan talk about it enough. I’m sure to find it. My idea of getting fresh air is walking to the center of town for an iced caramel macchiato and a new book. At home, I would never think of traipsing through the woods in a dress. If I’m being completely honest, I wouldn’t think of walking through the woods at all, for any reason, in any attire.

  I’ve done a lot of things here I wouldn’t normally do back home. Some things, like using a water closet or taking a bath sound like a horrible alternative to a hot shower and indoor plumbing. Oddly enough, I’ve gotten used to it. Not having electricity or fast food isn’t the end of the world. It is possible to communicate without a smartphone. Who knew? I can laugh about it now as I make my way through the woods. I’ve gotten acclimated to this way of life. I have close friends here, and I feel like part of the family. I’ve never had that before.

  And then there’s Angus. My mind always finds its way back to him—that beautiful, arrogant man. He’s honorable and possessive. He’s rough and smooth. He confuses me and excites me. I want him, and I want to smack him all at the same time.

  As I make my way through the forest, I hear the distant roar of the waterfall. I can’t believe I found it on my own. Granted, I’m an educated, competent woman, but I could get lost in a parking lot without the navigation app on my phone. Laughing to myself, I push through some small trees to the water. Since I’m pretty deep in the woods and the water is clear, I decide to take a dip.

  I undress down to my shift and wade
into the water. It’s chilly but not unbearable. Waist deep with the sun shining through the trees, I feel wonderful. The sound of the waterfall drowns out all the other sounds of the forest. If I were home, I could play nature sounds on my iPod, and here I am in the middle of the forest. I have the real deal right here.

  I giggle to myself. Modern technology has no place in this ancient, primal forest. This is the stuff of fairy tales and myth.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Ahhh!” I scream and sputter and would have drowned if the water weren’t only waist deep.

  “Jesus Christ! What the hell is wrong with you sneaking up on me?” Angus really needs a bell around his neck.

  “Ye curse like a sailor.”

  “What are you doing here? Did you follow me? That’s super creepy, ya know,” I say as I walk away from him toward the edge of the pond. Good grief, how am I going to get back to my clothes? I’m soaking wet in a white cotton shift. I may as well be naked.

  “Creepy? What does that mean?”

  I hear him splashing behind me. “It means why are you following me?” I’m surprised they’ve not asked me why I speak so differently before. I will have to tell the girls the truth someday. I have no idea what they’ll say.

  I supposed that means I’m staying. I don’t think I made a conscious decision to stay, but I can’t imagine leaving. Even if the brutish, possessive, beautiful man behind me thinks he owns me. I can’t say he’s wrong but I’m not ready to tell him that.

  “Where are ye going?” he asks from behind me.

  I hear splashing around, and I can tell he isn’t too far behind. “I’m soaked and half-naked. I just want to get back.” He always manages to rattle me.

  Heading for the edge of the pond, I’m more concerned with getting to the safety of my clothes than with paying attention to the slippery rocks. I can’t get my hands out fast enough to catch myself and land on my face over the edge. Now I’m covered in a mass of reeds and muck.