“Stop it,” she admonished herself. Allowing her imagination to run wild wasn’t helping her to find the messenger. Giving herself a hard shake, she attempted to eradicate the anxieties that clung to her. She came off her horse, and looked down at the earth, forcing herself to search for the necessary clues. But she found it impossible. There were no physical indications that stood out. How was she to find the markings when the ground was covered with thousands of dead leaves and pine needles? Mairead took several more steps and then stopped next to a tree. Releasing a frustrated breath, she allowed her eyes to scan the surroundings once again. The scent of pine filled her awareness, and everywhere she looked she saw trees and shrubbery. She leaned on the trunk of the tree, her forehead pressed to her hands. She was forced to acknowledge that she had lost Thom. Since she wasn’t familiar with the terrain, she couldn’t go any further.
“This is terrible!” She banged a fist against the tree trunk, the rough bark cutting into her hand. But her moment of violence did little to dispel her anguish, and she sunk down to the foot of the tree. If she had to go home, her only choice was to wait until her fate unfolded.
“Why was I nae born a male?” she said, blinking back the tears. If she was, Rory might have suggested a matrimonial match, however he would never have forced one on her.
Dragging the back of her hand across her eyes, she stared miserably at the ground before her. An insect flew by and landed on the dried pine needles that carpeted the forest floor. But then something else caught her attention. Horse droppings. Suddenly hope flared in her chest. Crawling closer, she went to inspect her findings. But then in the next instant, her hopes became dashed. It wasn’t horse droppings; it was the scat of a pine marten.
Wearily, she got up, and started to make her way to her horse. But she stopped when she heard a sudden thrashing in a bush nearby. Her misery temporarily forgotten, she moved closer to the noise. From the sound, she assessed that the noise was likely made by some injured creature. At least if her situation was hopeless, she could help a critter in trouble. Mairead moved to the shrub. When she parted the branches, she found herself staring into the orbs of a wildcat. Her eyes widened when she saw a bird clamped in its mouth.
“Get away!” she said, stomping her foot to scare the animal. The creature dropped the bird and gave an angry hiss. “Go!” She stomped her foot again, and the wildcat disappeared into the underbrush.
The bird was still alive although it flopped helplessly.
“Your wing is broken,” she said softly. Blood had dried on its feathers, and there were bite marks all over its tiny body. The bird flopped again, one wing rustling the leaves underneath it. If she hadn’t come along, the wildcat would have taken its life. Sadness came over her when she realized that because of its vulnerability, it would either become an easy target for some other preying animal, or it would die in this spot. In either case, its death would be agonizing and possibly prolonged. This realization caused compassion to fill her heart. One thing she hated was to witness animals suffering. Even though she didn’t want to kill it, she knew that this was the humane thing to do.
“It will be over quickly,” she promised. Drawing her dagger, she ended its misery. But just as she completed her act of mercy, sorrow came immediately to her chest. Searching the ground, she found a jagged rock. And then gripping it with both hands, she dug a shallow grave. After placing the critter in the hole, she said a small prayer, and covered the grave with loose earth.
Mairead stood up and brushed the dirt from her hands. At least the problems that the beastie faced were no longer an issue. She, on the other hand, still had to figure out whether she would move forward, or return home.
But even as she considered her failure, a stubborn streak inside of her insisted that she couldn’t give up just yet; she had to try harder to find Thom’s tracks.
“Besides,” she said out loud while trying to reassure herself. “If he’s in the woods, he couldnae gone that far.”
Looking behind her, she saw newly broken branches and mud tracks. But those markings were made by her own steed. For another moment frustration gripped her, and she clenched her fists. But then she got a grip on herself. Logically she knew that she shouldn’t dwell on the problem. She required a solution. What would one of her brothers do if they lost a trail? As soon as she posed that question, something that Duncan had told her long ago echoed in her mind. “There are always clues to be had,” he said. “Ye only needed tae look closer.”
As she crouched down on her haunches to search for traces of Thom, she became conscious of an eerie silence that hung in the air. The chattering of birds overhead seemed to have stopped. And it didn’t help matters that she sensed that someone or something was watching her. Spying a long stick near her foot, she picked it up. Having a solid object in her hands made her feel more secure.
A gust of wind suddenly blew, rustling the remaining leaves high above her. It caused several dead leaves to swirl in the air, gently falling to contribute to the mass that carpeted the forest floor. As she watched a leaf settle a few steps away from her, she suddenly saw the sign that she needed. It was a patch of dark, damp leaves and pine needles that were recently disturbed. A rock had sat there but was displaced, as if something had accidentally kicked it. And with the area exposed, a beetle crawled out of its home, circling the forest floor almost in confusion. The differences she observed were subtle, and she would have overlooked it if she wasn’t studying the ground in such careful detail. She was certain that a mortal had passed through this way. And if it wasn’t a human, then it was some heavy-footed forest spirit that left the impression on the ground.
Mairead let out an uneasy laugh. At the sudden sound, the horse’s ears twitched.
“There are nay such things as fae creatures,” she told herself sternly. “Those are just stories that people tell by the fireside.” Emboldened by the sound of her own voice, she got up, and went closer to the disturbed earth.
Just when she reached the spot, a blur of color caught her peripheral vision. Before she could look in that direction, a voice growled. “Who are ye, and why are ye following me?”
With the stick in hand, she spun around only to discover an arrow aimed at her heart.
Chapter 6
Thom stared in confusion as beautiful hazel eyes gazed up at him.
“Ye are a lass,” he said, lowering his grip on the bow. Even as he said it, he couldn’t hide the disbelief in his voice. He was aware that someone tracked him for a while now. At first he thought he would lose him in the woods, but it appeared that he, or rather she possessed the ability to track him.
“’Tis Mairead MacGregon,” she said, her voice unsteady. Her hand gripped tightly around the branch. He didn’t have the heart to tell her that the stick was useless against him. If he believed that she posed a danger to him, he would have already loosened the arrow from its notch.
Still, having the branch in her hand seemed to lend her strength, and the frightened expression on her face began to dissipate.
“Dinnae come any closer, or I might have tae use this.” She adjusted her stance so that she held the stick defensively in front of her body.
“Why are ye following me?” he asked, ignoring the warning in her voice.
A guilty look crossed briefly over her pretty countenance. “Ye were going tae Bracken Ridge, and I wanted tae go there as well,” she said, swallowing nervously. “I thought tae follow ye since I dinnae want tae cause ye trouble.”
A flash of irritation washed over him at the unanticipated complication. He had already wasted enough time at Tancraig Castle. Since he had to deliver a message to Griogair, he had gone with undue haste. But then when his task was completed, he required a few days to recover — both from his travel, and from the death of his friend and foster brother Robart MacRell. That blow had been hard, and it brought back all the things he hated about killing and combat. He had witnessed too much death in his twenty-five years. While some men relished bein
g consumed by bloodlust, Thom was sickened by it. In all respects, he was well-trained, and considered a good combatant. But witnessing the demise of those who he cared about had taken its toll, and he needed to get away. That was the reason why he became a runner for Clan MacRell in the first place. At the time he no longer had any obligations to his foster clan, yet he made the choice to take the post. While solitude and isolation turned most men mad, he relished it. The work took him across all regions of Scotland where he discovered a love for mapping out the land in his mind. But most important, the employment allowed him to forget about his past, and remove him from the harsh realities of clan society. In truth, he was reluctant to go into battle, but he was duty-bound to his country and kin. He had every intentions of going to war, but he wasn’t willing to take a woman to a war zone.
Taking a deep breath, he then let it out in a rush. He was almost at Drumgaff Castle, and the only sensible thing to do was to take the lass there. He wanted to tell her to return to her home, but he couldn’t very well send her back unescorted. It was too risky for her to travel on her own, especially with so many warriors traveling the roads. If anything happened to her, Griogair MacGregon would hold him responsible.
“I told ye that I couldnae escort ye tae Bracken Ridge,” he said through clenched teeth.
“I dinnae understand why. I plan tae pay —”
“I’m nae going there.”
“Nae going there?” Her brows snapped down in confusion. “But where are ye going then?”
“I’m going tae Drumgaff Castle. After that I’m taking ye back home.”
Thom’s declaration should have deflated her resolve to get to the military camps, but instead it left Mairead more determined. Now that her worries about being lost were gone, she didn’t want to go home. For once, she was out in the open, and away from her brothers’ overly protective and suffocating influences. The world was a riveting place, she decided. She had already ridden for long hours, and had witnessed terrain that she never knew existed. And before she arrived at her destination, she was adamant in viewing more of her beautiful country. She had come this far, so she could go a little further.
In short time they arrived at the village of Drumgaff. Mairead tried to contain her excitement at seeing the new community. It appeared that the majority of the men had left the small town, although the place still hummed with activity. But since they were outsiders, a few people stopped what they were doing to gawk at them.
“Is there something ye want tae get here?” she asked in the guise of making conversation. She could only hope that he intended to tarry in the village.
“Nay,” he said.
Mairead shrugged at his clipped response. She was fine with not conversing with him, since the sights before her captivated her. Truthfully, she brimmed with curiosity, and tried to take in as much as possible so she would later recount it all to Kila. Of course Mairead had heard of Drumgaff, although neither she nor her sister had ever visited the MacLeaburn territory. From what she understood the region was close to Bracken Ridge, and that was all that mattered.
As they passed through the narrow street, she saw two youths struggling with an ox and cart full of straw. It appeared as though the lads wanted the beast to move faster, but the animal stubbornly refused to budge. Out of frustration one of the youths brought the switch down hard on the rump of the ox. Startled, the beast bolted. At that same instant a pig escaped its pen, causing a bairn to chase after it. The swine streaked in front of the careening cart, with the boy following close behind. He was so intent in retrieving the animal, that he was unaware of the present danger. When he finally noticed the runaway ox and cart, he stood as if he was frozen to his spot.
Thom let out an oath and pulled at his reins. Before Mairead could even blink, he dismounted from his stallion, and sprinted over to the lad, snatching him up before the cart hurtled into him.
With his face devoid of blood, the lad blinked at the rapidly disappearing ox and cart.
“Jem,” a female called. She ran up to the lad, and when she saw that he was all right, she drew him in her arms.
Looking over at Thom, she said in a wavering voice, “Ye saved my son’s life. How can I ever repay ye?” The bairn had recovered from his shock, and disentangled from his mother’s hold.
“Ye dinnae need tae repay me.”
“Thank ye.” She sent him a tentative smile. “’Tis guid that ye have returned tae Drumgaff.”
The woman appeared as if she wanted to continue speaking, but Thom only nodded and remounted his horse.
When they moved again, Mairead said, “It appears that the villagers recognize ye. Do ye come here often?”
“Often enough.”
Mairead frowned and looked at him from under her lashes. It was best to remain silent even though the next inquiry had already formed on her tongue. Since she met him, Thom had always answered her questions, although his responses were often cryptic and unsatisfying. Not surprisingly she ended up having more questions than answers.
***
Thom headed toward the castle gate while Mairead rode beside him. His earlier irritation had abated somewhat, and his anticipation at seeing Cristiona increased. It had been too long since he last saw her. Even the dour porter couldn’t dampen his mood. When the guard finished examining them both, he nodded, and allowed them to pass through the castle gate.
By now Cristiona would have received news of his arrival, and like always, she would meet him at the steps of the tower. But as they rode across the courtyard, there was no sign of her. The keep seemed oddly quiet, dreary, and appeared more neglected than usual. As well, the inhabitants wore old, tattered clothes, and for some reason appeared jumpy.
“Where is the mistress of the castle?” he asked the servant who was trying to hurry past them, a basket of clothes at her hip.
“T — the mistress?” Her lips compressed into a thin white line, and she swung the basket to the front of her in a protective gesture. There was a flicker in her eyes, and he knew that she recognized him.
The servant’s small action caused a ball of unease to settle in the pit of his stomach. The woman knew something but she wasn’t willing to reveal it. When he last visited, Cristiona’s husband had barely tolerated him, however the servants had no issues with him. Thom narrowed his eyes and lowered his voice as if he spoke to a simpleton. “Ye have a mistress, do ye nae?”
The servant took a cautious step back, and looked desperately around her as if she wished to escape.
“Nay,” she sputtered. “I — I mean, aye I had a mistress.”
“What do ye mean ye had a mistress?” He felt a streak of heat rise up to his neck at hearing the impossible insinuation. The woman’s features turned stark white, and it appeared that she lost her ability to speak. He clenched his fists at his side, restraining himself from shaking her.
“I dinnae ken anything,” the servant cried, lifting the basket higher. She hugged it tightly to her chest as if it had the power to ward off his fury.
“I’ll ask ye again,” he said, his tone icy. “Where is the lady of the castle?”
She bit her bottom lip until the blood cut off from it. Finally she burst out, “The lady is dead!”
A shocked silence followed her revelation.
“Dead,” he said, his voice sounding hollow.
“Aye,” she nodded her head quickly. Lulled by the even tone of his voice, she added, “The Lady was fine one day, and the next day the MacLeaburn informed us that she had died in her sleep.”
“This cannae be true.” He shook his head and roared, “Ye are lying tae me!”
The boom of his voice made Mairead jump, and she gaped at him as if she had never seen him before.
The servant was likewise startled and took two steps back. “I’m nae lying,” she sobbed. She began to shake uncontrollably when Thom took a menacing step toward her.
Mairead tugged at his sleeve, stopping him. For a moment there was fear in her eyes, but then it
was gone. “I think she’s telling the truth, Thom. It willnae do tae make the lass die of fright.”
He opened his mouth to respond, but when he looked at the servant, he realized that she was only a lowly member of the castle. She was unlikely to know much.
Two servants started to walk across the courtyard. But when they saw their cornered associate, they pivoted and fled, stumbling over themselves in their haste to get away. Annoyed, he surveyed his surroundings only to discover that the entire courtyard was empty.
“Tell me when this happened?” he growled, turning back to the servant.
“’Twas a fortnight ago,” the servant cringed, although her sobbing had subsided. “That was when the MacLeaburn informed us that the lady was dead.”
“Your laird is a killer,” Thom grounded out. He had no doubt that Lester MacLeaburn murdered Cristiona. He could feel the bile rise to his throat. What kind of monster would execute a sweet, innocent woman? By cutting off her life, the bastard deprived the world of the lass’ light and purity. He gnashed his teeth. The feeling of loathing toward the laird, a sentiment that Thom had buried, came surging to the surface. Once again he regretted that he hadn’t slaughtered the bastard when he had the chance. But then the fury in his chest lifted, and a cold calmness descended upon him. Thom would personally see to it that the bastard paid for the life he took.
“Bring me a great kilt and food supplies,” he said to the servant, his voice clipped. “I’ll wait for ye in the great hall.”
“Aye,” the servant said, relieved that she was being released. Her desire to remove herself from his sphere of rage and anguish was obvious, and she ran from him.
The news of Cristiona’s passing crushed him. He closed his eyes briefly, wanting to punch some object. It wasn’t right that her life was cut short. She was like a bright star. Even when she was small, she used to make everyone around her laugh and smile. But now she was no longer. And there was only one person to blame for that.
Thom walked to the great hall and waited for the servant’s return. He inhaled deeply, forcing himself to relax. He needed to be cool-headed and think of a strategy.
Highland Messenger (Scottish Strife Series Book 4) Page 4