Taken by her Highland Enemy: He was running from his past; she was fighting for her future...

by Kendrick, Kenna

  Gale dared to look back over her shoulder. An old man ran across his property, trying to stop her. A wild laugh overcame Gale as she leaned into the horse’s neck, urging it to go faster. With every glimpse back, energy coursed through Gale’s veins as she saw the man’s silhouette shrinking in the distance. She could not stop laughing. It was the first time she had laughed in months. Even before her father was murdered, there was little to laugh about, and now, the insanity of the situation made her giggle without control.

  I just stole a horse. She was amazed. Never in her life would she have imagined herself taking anything. She would have turned her nose up in disdain at anyone would even think of such a thing. Her mind coursed with thoughts of a warm bed and hot food. She kept the horse running until it tuckered out.

  Gale drank the last sips of her water as the sun reached the highest point in the sky. The horse plodded forward with heavy, sure feet. She was sweating and starving. Guilt started to edge in now that the novelty wore off, now that the excitement of having done something so adventurous and unlike her ebbed away. Exhaustion settled back into her bones.

  Between the heat and the hunger and the shame of now being a thief, by the time she saw the first signs of Loch Awe’s community, a paranoia set into Gale’s mind. They’re going to know this is not my horse. She knew it was a crazy thought. There is no way that man had overtaken her and alerted anyone. She would have seen him. Still, she could not look at anyone as she steered the mare towards Rosalie’s new home.

  The closer she came to her destination, the heavier her body and mind were. She was done. She was almost there. Thirst made her throat sore and raw. Her stomach roared. Her muscles ached. The sun touched her, and she felt her cheeks burn from exposure. In the distance, she could see it now. The pastures rolling out beneath the mountains. The long dirt path winding into the homestead seemed to stretch on forever. Gale’s head pounded, and the sun and lack of sleep made her slightly delirious. I’m going to faint. She tried to keep her eyes focused ahead, but her head swam and vision blurred.

  “Gale?” Rosalie’s voice drew Gale’s attention towards her.

  Gale looked up and felt as if she was trying to see through moving water. She opened her mouth to speak, but her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth, and the words did not come. Her friend looked more beautiful now than ever, with the sun shining at her back and her belly swollen huge with child.

  Rosalie reached out to grab the reigns. Gale could barely keep seated in the saddle. Her body ached, the strain of the previous night, finally setting into its full effect. She swallowed, trying to gather as much moisture in her mouth as she could.

  “Rosalie,” was all Gale could say. It came out in a cracked, hoarse whisper. Gale barely recognized her own voice.

  She tried to sit up straight, but a pain tore through her belly, and her head swooned as the blood rushed too fast to her brain. Rosalie’s hands reached up to her, touching her torso. Gale could not move. She was done, defeated. It was as if her body knew in every fiber that she had made it and could rest.

  “Ye got tae help me, Gale.”

  Gale let out a heavy sigh and slumped over, sliding her body down the horse. In her mind, she was graceful, but her body was not working like it normally did. Her muscles were past their breaking point, and her brain was fuzzy. Everything seemed to move like in a dream. It was as if her brain shut off for a moment, and the next thing she knew, she was falling instead of dismounting from the horse. Rosalie stumbled, trying to help her, but Gale fainted.

  Her eyes fluttered open in confusion. The back of her neck and head throbbed. She didn’t know it was from thirst or if she’d hit her head. Rosalie screamed at something, but the words seemed to run together, Gale’s brain not working fast enough to keep up. She tried to stand up, but she stumbled. Rosalie’s strong hand grabbed her shoulder. She led her forward towards the small cottage, supporting most of Gale’s weight.

  “Sit down,” Rosalie commanded.

  Gale sat on the stone step. She looked up at Rosalie and felt humiliation spread over her. Rosalie’s face was filled with confusion and concern. Gale suddenly realized how terrible she must look, how horrible her state was, and with no warning or explanation. Gale remembered the last time she saw Rosalie, how her mad mother had whipped the woman and locked her up in the tower Gale came to know too well throughout her youth. There was an unspoken bond that formed between them then—but that was years ago. It suddenly occurred to Gale that Rosalie probably never wanted to see anyone from Gale’s family again—a reminder of the horrid period of her life.

  “I’m sorry—” Gale’s voice cracked.

  “Shh, not now.”

  A little boy handed Gale a dipper filled with water. She drank greedy gulps, relishing the cold liquid through her searing throat. Streams of water rolled down her chin, and almost immediately, the fog started to ebb from her mind. She must think I am mad.

  “I didn’t know where else to turn.”

  Rosalie brushed her fingers over Gale’s hair, trying to calm her. The touch was more soothing than anything Gale had felt in her life. Such a simple gesture made her feel safe. She felt tears choking her again, and it made her feel pathetic and weak. The water and tender touch reawakened a manic fright within her. Gale’s eyes were wide, her body trembled. She tried to stand before Rosalie grabbed her wrist and pulled for her to sit back down.

  “I want ye to sit fer a moment.”

  A little girl poked her head out from the cottage. She hid behind the door. Gale caught the girl’s eye, looking her up and down. She felt self-conscious and foolish beneath the gaze of the bairn. Rosalie reached her hand out, and the girl handed her a hunk of bread before disappearing back into the cottage with a quick slam of the door.

  Rosalie rolled her eyes at the display and turned to Gale. “Can ye eat?”

  Gale nodded, “Aye, thank ye.” It took all over self-control not to snatch the bread and swallow it whole. She reminded herself to eat slowly after going so long without a real meal.

  They sat in silence while Gale nibbled at the bread and recovered her strength. Rosalie would not let her speak until after she rested.

  The next hour passed in a haze. The fire crackled inside, warming Gale and lulling her into a relaxed state. She obeyed Rosalie, letting the woman remove the ruined clothes and put her in something clean. Gale’s eyes fixed on the garment pulled from her body. It was worse than she thought, torn and stained. She shuddered, thinking about how Rosalie might perceive her and was grateful Rosalie was just a common woman and not someone of importance.

  The two children, whom Rosalie introduced as Hamish and Thomasina, soon forgot their shyness and crowded around them. Gale cowered within her skin under their constant gazes. The cottage was not what she expected from a Highland Chief and his wife. Everything seemed to be in one room, although Gale noticed a couple doors indicating more space beyond. There was a single bed next to the fire, almost touching their table. Gale did not have the energy to judge or care as she would in normal circumstances. When Rosalie pulled back the covers for her, she climbed in and fell immediately into a deep sleep.

  “Gale, Gale…”

  Someone touched Gale. She forgot, having made it to Rosalie. Her eyes flew wide in a panic, afraid she was asleep in the forest, and someone was trying to hurt her. She kicked out.

  Rosalie held her tight, keeping her from thrashing. “Shh, tis alright. You’re safe now.”

  “What’s wrong with her, Mama?” Thomasina played with her skirts. Gale watched the fabric swish back and forth, feeling small and embarrassed for her intrusion and desperation.

  “She’s had a long journey, is all.”

  Gale looked up at Declan. Rosalie’s husband looked at her, a scowl furrowing over her brow. She could see it all in his face; he was not feeling as generous as his wife. Gale could not tell if he was angry or afraid, but it made her wonder if she’d made a mistake by coming. Maybe I should have just stayed in the woo
ds—lived there forever and risked the wolves eating me. Humiliation and self-pity and loathing burned her cheeks. She shrank under Declan’s stern gaze.

  “Drink this.”

  Gale took the glass, her hands noticeably shaking. The taste was velvet smooth. The rich bone broth calmed her and awakened her wits.

  “Declan’s here, Gale, an’ we need to know what’s happenin’?”

  Gale refrained from rolling her eyes. I’m not an idiot. I can see him judging me just fine. She crumpled over the cup and started to cry. Her bright blue eyes shone out like icy gems, contrasting against the reds and pinks of her irritated face. She tried to calm herself with deep breaths, her hands shaking as she forced down more of the broth.

  “Pa is dead.” The image of his face was like someone stabbing her in the heart, “An’,” she sniffed, trying to keep from crying yet again, “an’ Ma, I think she means to kill me.” Gale did not want to look up at them and see their reaction. She snatched Rosalie’s hand and forced herself to peek up. Her eyes filled with desperation. “Please, I didn’t know who else tae go to. You must help me, Rosalie. There’s no one else I know who can.”

  Declan grabbed the sleeve of Rosalie’s dress gently to pull her into a private conversation. Rosalie shrugged him off, intent on hearing Gale through before making a decision. “Calm down, Gale. Start from the beginnin’ an’ tell us what happened.”

  Gale took a deep breath. “Ma kept gettin’ worse after ye left. She’d go through these states…” Gale squeezed her eyes shut as she thought of the things her mother did in her periods of madness—beating her, yelling at her, seeing things that were not there, and acting out in violence. “…Where she didn’t even recognize us. Sometimes thought we were different people—that she were different. This man came one day, said he were a doctor—that he could help her. Ma seemed to get better, but these delusions,” she gestured to the air, rolling her eyes up, “It were as if somethin’ possessed her when she’d have ‘em.” Gale struggled not to start crying again, “Her an’ this doctor were close. They got to a point where they were inseparable. Pa was gettin’ uncomfortable with it, said he weren’t helpin’ her anymore, an’ when he finally asked the doctor to leave, that’s when, when—” Sobs wracked her body.

  Rosalie rubbed her back. Gale calmed herself enough to continue, the pitch of her voice squeaking with emotion. “The doctor said it were his heart…” Gale shook her head, remembering the wine glass spilling from her father’s hand and the way his face was distorted as if he choked to death. “After, within the week,” she exclaimed, “Ma started actin’ like it were her keep an’ talkin’ to an’ about that doctor as if they were already married. One o’ the workers made a comment abou’ how she weren’t the heir, I was. Ma and the doctor were in an outrage, fightin’ all evening.

  “That night, he came into my room…” Gale closed her eyes and gritted her teeth, trying to force the feel of his hands, grabbing her from her memory. Her words burst out like venom pulled from a wound. “He tried to lay with me. He tried to convince me to marry him, that it was I he loved, not my mother, an’ when I refused him, he—he—” She started crying again. She couldn’t say it out loud, not with Declan there just staring at her. “I managed to get away, an’ this was the only place I knew I’d be safe from ‘em.”

  Declan paced around the room, looking out the small shutters for signs of danger. “Do ye ken if ye were followed?” Gale shook her head in negation. “Rosie, outside.”

  Rosalie smiled at Gale. “Jus’ give us a moment.” She turned to her children. “Hamish, stoke the fire. Thomasina, keep our guest comfortable.”

  “Aye, Ma.”

  Gale could hear the occasional raised voice as Declan and Rosalie talked just outside. She wrung her hands. If they turned her away, there was nowhere to go. If they didn’t help her and hide her, it was over. She knew she could not endure anymore.

  Chapter Three

  Gale’s hair whipped in front of her face. “Slow down!” she screamed as she kicked her horse into a trot.

  Gale pulled the strands from her cheek to no avail. The wind swept sideways down the mountain face, tearing at her clothes. She wished more than anything Declan would have let her rest a while longer. All through the night, she slept like the dead, but an hour before dawn, Declan woke her. He did not say anything, just tapped her shoulder with the back of his hand. Her eyes fluttered open to see his pursed lips and look of uncertainty.

  Rosalie and the twins were still asleep, all piled up in her and Declan’s bed. Gale did not even get the chance to say goodbye. It pained her. The situation was anticlimactic at best. She imagined herself welcomed and honored for her noble birth. Throughout her trek through the forest, she pictured Rosalie welcoming into her home, blessed by a visitor of such esteem. She envisioned Declan, the chief of his clan, having a stone keep and servants to draw her a bath and present a fine meal of duck and rabbit.

  The winds changed, and Gale’s vision cleared. She tucked her strands behind her ear with one hand and tugged the wool hood over her eyes. Declan’s horse gnawed on dry grasses arching over the path, while Declan stared at her with a stern gaze.

  “I don’t see why ye couldn’t let me bathe firs’!” Gale let out a dramatic moan. Declan grunted and pulled on his reins, turning his horse back to the trail. “How much further do we have to go?”

  Declan said nothing. He looked up at the sun, squinting into the afternoon light. For Gale, it seemed like forever since they left his stead near Loch Awe. The unexpected leg of her journey seemed to wear on her more than all the previous miles she trekked in isolation and hunger. She had thought her troubles were over, and now she found herself being pawned off on someone else—and a stranger besides.

  “You cannot go the entire way not talkin’ tae me!” Gale yelled as Declan put space between them. She caught up to him, so they walked parallel to one another. “Wha’ are they like?” Declan looked up at her, one brow cocked. “The people yer takin’ me to?”

  Declan let out a sigh and kneaded his brow with an open hand. “They’re good people, Gale.”

  “Will they give me a bath?”

  “Why didn’t ye bathe when we watered the horses?”

  Gale scrunched up her nose and straightened her head with such force her hood slipped, revealing her tangled blonde tresses. “Too cold.” Her shoulders shook as a chill ran down her spine at the mere thought.

  Declan snorted. “How long has it been since ye bathed? Ye smell awful.”

  Gale’s mouth dropped. Never in her life had someone talked to her in such a manner. Her cheeks flushed red with shame and embarrassment. All at once, she became acutely aware of her musky aroma. Over the last weeks, she had grown accustomed to the smell of dirt, pine, horse, and sweat.

  “It’s not my fault,” she gasped, feeling the tears burning at the corners of her eyes. “You have no idea what I’ve been through.”

  Sympathy filled Declan’s eyes. Gale could see a pink tinge color his neck and ride up to his jawline. He cleared his throat and said in a quiet voice, “We’ll be there on the morrow.”

  “Where will we sleep?”

  Declan tilted his jaw towards the horizon. “Other side o’ that hill.”

  Not much else passed between them. Gale tried to strike up conversations, but Declan avoided responding, often grunting or answering her with a look. With an audience, Gale let her complaints roam free. Even when she became aware of Declan’s growing annoyance, the words just spilled from her mouth. They overflowed, like her awe and amazement at the open countryside sprawling around them.

  “Oh! Look! Look! Do you see tha’?” She’d gasp now and again, whether it be animal or flower sprouting up along the path.

  The night was cold, and Gale’s stomach grumbled. She was afraid to ask too much of Declan, sensing his ever-growing impatience. Throughout the night, she tossed and turned with little huffs of frustration. Even though, throughout her previous journey, she was much colde
r and without fire. Something about having someone so close, yet silent, made her feel more alone than before.

  The next day, she gave up on conversation, trying her best to keep her spirits high by fixating on the rolling green hills and purple heather. “Please, tell me we’re almost there!” She shouted almost at high noon.

  “Aye, o’er tha’ last stretch. Ye can see the firs’ signs dotting o’er there.” Declan’s face lit up for the first time since they set out. “They’re good people—the Brodies.” He smiled.

  When they approached the Brody keep, Declan did not wait for Gale. He kicked the sides of his horse and bolted forward. Gale struggled to keep her eyes on him as she weaved between people. She was relieved to see he did not keep the chase up for long. Declan dismounted in front of a small cottage.

  “Wait ‘ere, Gale,” he said as he dismounted.

  Gale’s eyes bulged as they fell on a man cutting wood in front of the cottage. Her ears fell deaf to Declan greeting his friend as her gaze washed over the rippling muscles of the Highlander standing in front of her. He was the tallest man she had ever laid eyes on. A sheen of sweat glossed his toned, lithe muscles. His skin was tanned from long days in the sun. Green eyes flashed out at her from beneath a head of dark brown hair, so dark it was almost black.