by Lynn Tyler
She lifted her head once more to see gates pass by, and she found herself in the bailey of a huge keep. This one was more beautiful than the MacGillivray keep, built of silver-speckled stone with turrets and towers. However, there was no sign of arrow slits or guard towers. This would not be an easy keep to defend.
They stopped at the stables, and she stayed where she was as Ian dismounted and lifted her off his horse. “I will not hurt you, my lady,” he promised as he carried her up the stairs.
Henry and Elizabeth were arguing in the great hall, shouting over whether to toss her in the dungeons or keep her in one of the smaller tower rooms.
“The dungeons, I say!” Henry hollered, his face going red with his anger.
“The tower!” Elizabeth shrieked back. “Should Alasdair MacKenna ever find out we kept his daughter in the dungeon, he will tell his laird and there will be hell to pay.”
Finally it was decided she was to be locked in one of the tower rooms. Jocelyn nearly screamed with frustration. She was still thin, so slipping through bars on a dungeon window was not an impossibility. They were made for large men, after all, not short, slim women.
A tower room was another problem altogether. There was no way she could jump from that height and not be injured. How would she get away with a broken leg?
Ian carried her up the long, winding staircase and into a small room. It was sparse, with no coverings on the windows to keep out the chill. But at least it had a bed, with no linens or furs however, and a chamber pot, which she was desperate to use.
Ian placed her on the bed and glanced around the room. “Keep the plaid,” he said when she made to remove it. “It will get cold soon, and you will need something to warm you.”
She nodded her thanks and regarded him silently. “Why are you being so kind to me?” she asked finally.
Ian tucked her into the bed almost tenderly. “My grandmother was a MacKenna,” he said quietly. “You probably do not remember me, but we met when you were just a wee bairn.” He smiled as if something amusing had come to mind. “You were always such an opinionated lass. But you were kind and smart, and had I been old enough, I would have asked for a marriage contract.”
“If you feel any affection for me still, you will help me get back to my husband,” she pleaded.
Tears gathered in her eyes. She had never before had to beg for something, and the action did not sit well with her now, but it was the only way she could think of to get back to Robbie. And for Robbie, she would put aside her pride and do almost anything.
Ian brushed her hair tenderly out of her eyes and smiled gently at her. “Aye, lass,” he said as if he was addressing his younger sister. “As soon as you see the midwife, I will begin thinking of ways to get you out of here.”
A knock sounded on the door, and Ian stood quickly, pulling his hand away from her hair just as a midwife entered followed by Elizabeth. The midwife ignored the warrior and bustled over to Jocelyn, cupping her chin and looking worriedly into her eyes. “I am Mary, the midwife,” she said quietly. She pressed her hands over Jocelyn’s womb and frowned at her gasp of pain. “How far along were you, my lady?”
“I had missed three bleedings,” Jocelyn answered through gritted teeth. The pain was causing every muscle in her body to cramp, and she struggled to avoid curling up in a ball. She heard the door close and glanced around the room to find Ian gone.
“The pregnancy was still fragile then,” the midwife murmured. She frowned again at the sight of the blood on her skirts.
“I fear I have lost the child,” Jocelyn managed to choke out, grief nearly overwhelming her.
The midwife sighed and pressed her hand down on Jocelyn’s stomach once more. “You are right,” she said sadly. “No babe could survive this much damage.” She smoothed down Jocelyn’s skirts and reached into her basket. “Here, my lady. Drink this. It will help slow down the bleeding and help you to heal.”
She was so depressed, so out of hope, that she considered not drinking the midwife’s potion. But then she thought about Robbie. He would no doubt be trying to rescue her at this very second. She had to at least fight to stay alive for him.
Taking the cup in her hand, she stared down at it. Steeling herself for the course ahead, Jocelyn gulped down the vile potion and gagged as it ran thickly down her throat. She would not leave Robbie widowed twice over if she could help it. “Will I be able to get with child again?” she whispered, fear making it impossible for her to speak normally. What would she do if Mary said no? Of what value would she be to Robbie if she couldn’t bear him children?
“I do not know for certain, my lady. It will be hard to tell until the swelling goes down.” She grimaced sympathetically as another contraction gripped Jocelyn. “You will need rags to stop the bleeding,” she said. The midwife wandered over to the window and looked down. “Lots and lots of rags.” She threw a meaningful look over her shoulder at Jocelyn.
Catching her meaning, Jocelyn got up and joined her at the window. She gulped when she saw just how high up they really were. If the midwife meant for her to leave via the window, using the rags as a makeshift rope, she was mad. “Nay,” she answered. “I will not need that many rags.”
The midwife nodded her understanding before leaning close. “Know, my lady, that we do not all think the same as our laird. A large majority of our clan do not want to get involved in a blood feud with either the MacGillivrays or the MacKennas. We only want to live in peace.”
Jocelyn nodded wearily and headed to the bed. She needed a good night’s sleep if she was going to get herself out of this fix. She belated realized that Elizabeth was still in the room, standing in the corner. She could understand Henry’s motivations for kidnapping her. The man had always been slightly mad and had a sick sense of pride. Losing her to another had to have been tough but losing her to the same man who had married his now dead sister must have driven him to distraction. What she couldn’t understand was Elizabeth’s role in this whole mess. “Why, Elizabeth? What have I done to you?” she croaked.
Elizabeth fussed with her skirt, smoothing her hands down the material repeatedly. “When your father refused Laird Campbell’s marriage contract, he became obsessed with the idea that his reputation had been tarnished. He had the thought that if he could only get back at Laird MacGillivray, he would be redeemed somehow. As soon as he could, he sent me to the MacGillivray keep as a maid to keep him informed about the goings on.”
Jocelyn was still confused but at least she now knew who had been slipping information to the raiders. “Why did you not just tell us? We would have taken you in.”
The woman’s eyes flashed and she sneered. “And be a maid for the rest of my life? No. Henry has promised to marry me if I helped him. I will be mistress here in just a few days.”
Jocelyn could practically see the ambition sparkling in the woman’s eyes and her heart went out to her. Elizabeth really had no idea what Henry really was. “He is mad, Elizabeth. I was a healer for my laird when I lived with my father. The women used to come to me after being in Henry’s bed. He is rough, sometimes sadistic with them.”
A sad little smile spread across Elizabeth’s face. “That was why I was propositioning Will so aggressively. This is my fate. Perhaps I can redirect his more…forceful attentions to the lassies on staff here. But you have always been very kind to me. I will not tell Henry of your plan to escape.”
There was no use talking sense into this woman. She was as unbalanced as her betrothed. Jocelyn sighed and laid down on the bed, turning her back on Elizabeth until she heard the door close quietly. She willed her muscles to relax and fell into a fitful sleep.
She had not been sleeping long when a small sound in the corner of her room woke her with a start. Faint streaks of light shining in through the window heralded dawn’s arrival. Ian stood quietly, a plaid at the ready. “My lady,” he whispered. “We must go.”
He lifted her to her feet and wrapped her in the plaid. A quick glance out the wind
ow assured her there was not a soul stirring. It was too early even for the roosters to crow.
“What do you intend for us to do?”
“One of the stable lads has saddled some horses. We will leave now and use the light of the moon to guide our way back to MacGillivray land.”
She nodded silently and glanced out the window again. The sun was rising steadily and threw a startling amount of light into the inner bailey. “We could be seen,” she whispered as he ushered her to the door.
“Yes,” he said. “But this is the only night Henry will not be expecting you to escape. None of the people know of your presence yet. By this time tomorrow, you will have half the clan trying to rescue you. Henry knows this and will not take a chance so he is planning to send you away.”
Jocelyn shuddered at the thought of where Henry was planning to send her. Probably some insect-infested hole in the ground. She held on to the back of Ian’s plaid as he led the way down the staircase and out the door.
They moved quietly across the hard-packed earth, where a young lad of about twelve waited with two horses. He had his fingers in the horses’ nostrils to stop them from whinnying, though he had to hold on for dear life as they were tossing their heads about mightily. “This is Bothar. He has risked much to help us tonight. All I ask is that you take him into your clan so he does not suffer the punishment here. I would stay with your clan as well, if Laird MacGillivray will have me.”
Jocelyn nodded and smiled at the nervous boy. She allowed Ian to lift her into the saddle and sat still as he mounted behind her. Bothar settled himself on the horse next to them, and they gingerly picked their way across the bailey, slipping out of the gates and into the woods. They had just cleared the tree line when the heard a mighty roar.
Ian swore and glanced over his shoulder, toward the keep. “They checked on you earlier than I thought,” he explained. “I am afraid we will have to make haste if we are to outrun them.”
Snapping the reins, they took off into the night, their pursuers hard on their heels. “Keep up, Bothar!” Ian hollered. “You will not like what they do to you should they catch you.”
The boy, for his part, did not have any trouble keeping up with them. They raced through the trees, ignoring the shouts of the warriors behind them. One red-haired warrior drew up beside them, and Ian drew his sword. “Fall back, Michael!” Ian called desperately. “Do not force me to use this!”
The warrior didn’t answer. He just grabbed for Jocelyn.
“I warned you!” Ian shouted as he slashed his sword toward the warrior. Jocelyn closed her eyes and waited for the telltale sound of death. Instead, she heard the high scream of a horse and realized Ian had slashed the horse instead of skewering his friend. The warrior jumped off the horse as it stumbled.
They ran pell-mell through the forest for what seemed like hours, though it may have only been minutes. Time seemed to slow as the Campbells steadily made ground. Jocelyn closed her eyes and prayed for a miracle.
Suddenly, their mount reared, kicking high in the air. Ian tumbled off the back of the saddle. Jocelyn grabbed the horse’s mane in a vain attempt to control the frightened animal. She opened her eyes to see what had caused the stallion such a fright.
There, standing in all his warrior glory, was Robbie, backed by ten more MacGillivray warriors. He was rumpled and mussed, and they had obviously trampled in on their camp. He was bare chested, war plaits braided at his temples, and gazing at them with the fiercest expression she had ever seen. He had never been more beautiful.
Now! Jocelyn had to touch him now. She slid off the horse with a cry and threw herself into his arms, burying her face in his chest and wrapping herself around him. He was here, and he was real. She never wanted to let go.
The tamped fire was still smoking and the acrid scent stung her nostrils when she pulled back to look up at her husband. The sun, still low in the sky but steadily rising, shined behind him, giving him the appearance of an avenging angel. Horses whinnied restlessly around them as the warriors, including her brother-in-law, finished saddling them.
Robbie’s hands moved urgently over her body as he whispered nonsense into her ear soothingly. She burrowed closer and inhaled his scent. He smelled of sweat and smoke from the campfire. He was earthy, ripe even, and she couldn’t get enough of him. “Um, Jocelyn? A little help please?”
She lifted her head and turned in Robbie’s arms to find Ian surrounded by the warriors, swords pointed his way. “Wait!” she cried. “He and the lad saved me.”
The MacGillivrays looked to Robbie for orders. Before he could open his mouth, the sounds of horses crashing through the woods caught their attention.
“They come!” Ian hollered. “They are right behind us!”
Chapter 19
Robbie kissed her hard on the mouth before moving to stand in front of her and drew his sword. “Ready yourselves, lads!” he shouted, urging Jocelyn to stand fully behind him.
She ran her hands greedily up his spine, reveling in the feel of his hard muscles covered by smooth skin. “Jocelyn, loving, that is quite distracting,” he said with a grin. God, he loved her. He couldn’t wait to tell her, but now was not the time. He would wait until he had her in their bed, panting from pleasure.
Ian rose cautiously to his feet, his hands raised in a symbol of surrender. “My laird,” he called urgently. “We cannot fight them here! There are too many of them.”
Colin scoffed as Jamie laughed. “You underestimate the MacGillivrays,” Jamie called. “We can take on four times as many men before we find difficulty. We have eleven strong men.”
Ian nodded respectfully at Jamie before correcting them. “You have twelve, if you will have me,” he said. “But nearly four times is what we will fight, as there are at least forty men following us.”
“We can take them,” one of the MacGillivray warriors cried, thrusting his sword into the air aggressively.
Robbie looked around at his warriors, knowing they would like nothing more than to fight these Campbells for taking off with their mistress. He was tempted to spill a little Campbell blood immediately himself, but the feel of his tiny wife pressed against his back stopped him. “You are right, lads. We could take them. But I will not put Jocelyn in any more danger. We make for the keep.”
Robbie expected his men to roar with anger at being denied a chance to spill some enemy blood but was relieved when they nodded their agreement and began to mount their horses. Luckily they had been up at the first sign of dawn and were ready to leave. He pulled Jocelyn in front of him and lifted her into the saddle, swinging himself up behind her.
Gathering her in his arms, he held the reins in one hand and tucked her against his chest, turning her face into his neck to help protect her from flying branches. He took off toward the MacGillivray keep.
Robbie could hear the shouts of the Campbells behind them, being spurred on by the howls of their laird, and he tightened his hold on his wife. “I have got you, loving,” he murmured close to her ear. “They will not take you from me again.”
The only sign she gave of hearing his statement was a slight squeeze of his arm. If only he had not relented and taken her guards away. He should have known that she wouldn’t hesitate to leave the bailey if she thought someone needed her help. Dear Lord, would she ever trust him with her safety again?
They rode on, pushing their mounts as hard as they could. Fortunately, their horses had been rested during the night, and they quickly outpaced the enemy. Slowly, the Campbells began to fall behind, and the MacGillivrays were able to slow their horses down to a walk, even allowing their mounts a quick drink from the fast-flowing stream before urging them forward.
Robbie gazed down at her face, concerned to see her so pale. Smoothing her hair away from her eyes, he leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Are you well?”
She gasped quietly as the horse stumbled a little on an exposed root. When she tipped her head back to lean it on his chest, he noticed the faint lines of pa
in at the corners of her eyes and mouth. ”Jocelyn, imp, what is wrong?”
Jocelyn shook her head and readjusted her seat, shifting against him as she moved. Her skirt slipped a little, drawing his attention to the red stains spreading down the dress ominously. “Christ, Jocelyn! What has happened? Have you hurt yourself?”
She stifled a sob and turned to rest her cheek on Robbie’s chest. His heart clenched as he remembered their first time together. How he had cradled her to him and how she had relaxed into his arms trustingly.
She was not relaxing against him now. She was holding her body stiffly, almost as if each step of the horse was paining her. “Loving, please tell me. Perhaps I can help,” he begged, the sight of her tears tearing him apart.
“’Tis the babe, Robbie,” she whispered thickly, her tears flowing faster down her cheeks.
Robbie said nothing as her emotions broke and she sobbed unrestrainedly in his arms. He held her gently, stroking her hair as they rode slowly into the early dawn. He felt as if his heart had been shredded. His child was gone, destroyed by a madman. Worse, he knew miscarriages could be dangerous for the mother. And judging by the amount of blood on Jocelyn’s skirt, she was in danger of bleeding to death. There could be, would be, other children, but there was only one Jocelyn.
Jamie guided his horse so that it walked next to his and cocked his head to look questioningly at his sister-in-law. Clearing his throat, he shook his head at Jamie. “Take one of the men and ride ahead to the keep. Have the midwife waiting for Jocelyn.”
Jamie’s eyes drifted to the red on Jocelyn’s skirt, and he blanched. Nodding, he called for a warrior, and together, they took off for the keep.
Jocelyn’s tears slowed, and she leaned exhaustedly against him. “Sleep, Jocelyn,” he whispered in her ear. She looked up at him, her eyes wide and glassy, before going limp in his arms.
He held her as gently as possible as they rode onward, his men on guard in case some intrepid Campbell caught up with them.