by Sherry Ewing
Lachlan looked her up and down, as though assessing her ability to remain upright. Considering how she swayed, she saw in his eyes what she herself did not wish to admit. She would not remain standing for long. Her brief respite of freedom was already taking its toll upon her.
He came towards her with his sword raised. Thinking he was bent on killing her, she swung the limb, only to have him easily knock the branch from her hand and send it sailing off into the distance. She rubbed at her fingers, numb from the impact of his sword against the wood. He grabbed her and forced her up against his body. A gasp escaped her lips, and she wedged her hands between Lachlan and herself to push against his chest and force as much distance between them as possible. He laughed. She frowned and watched as his eyes became even darker, in sharp contrast to the fairness of his hair.
He spun her around and gave her a push in the general direction from where she had come. Afore she once more stumbled to the ground, he took hold of her arm to hasten their return to the water’s edge. In dismay, she came to the realization she, in truth, had not traveled that great a distance from where they had stopped.
“You best drink, if you are thirsty,” he jeered, still wiping at the blood upon his once handsome face, “and leave your comments to yourself in regards to my brother.”
Cupping her hands, she dipped them into the cool water and greedily brought a mouthful to her parched lips. The liquid slid down her throat like the sweetest nectar. “Calum is still laird, and I am still wed,” she mentioned again whilst dabbing the hem of her gown into the water so she could clean her face.
“Not for long,” Lachlan said as he went to the cart and came to stand afore her with a length of rope.
“What mean you by that?” she asked, almost afraid to hear his answer.
“It means that soon you will not have to worry about being a part of the MacGillivray clan, my lady. I plan to take you back to Berwyck where I will receive a fair amount of monies for your return.”
“Berwyck is no longer my home,” she declared, lifting her chin in confidence that Ian would soon be close at hand. “My husband will find me.”
“If he is still alive, then I am counting on it,” said her captor, “and when he comes for you, I will kill him.”
There was no time for a retort or protest of any kind as he swiftly gagged her and bound her to a tree. She was becoming familiar with a coarse rope that seemed to continually be the choice means of her captors to keep her in one place. She closed her eyes, steadied her breathing, and remembered a time, not too long ago, when she was in this exact same situation, just with another bent on ransoming her for a bit of coinage. She had lost her friend that day, and she regretted not being able to save him.
Giving a silent prayer for Rolf’s eternal soul to be at peace, Lynet practically willed Ian to her side and asked God to keep him safe. Her heart could not stand to lose another person she cared about, especially the one man she had loved her entire life. Once they were reunited, she would press the issue for Ian to declare his feelings about her, no matter that thus far she had been a most troublesome wife. She had waited her entire life for him to speak the words she longed to hear, and her faith in her husband that he would soon find her would not waver.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Ian tightly gripped the leather reins in his hands all the while attempting to remain level headed. ’Twas nigh unto an impossible task. Worry etched his features, wondering at what Lynet’s fate had now become, and who had abducted her, this time.
With the slightest pressure from Ian’s knee, his well-trained horse turned sharply into the forest and off the road to follow the tracks of the cart that had taken Lynet from the boundaries of their land. Angus and Connor rode by his side in silence as the miles continued to distance them from Urquhart. Whoever had taken his wife, they certainly made no attempt to hide their tracks. ’Twas almost as if the miscreant was giving Ian ample time and ease to locate Lynet, without much effort on his part. At the very least, he had that much going for him.
Judging for himself that the sun was beginning to set, caused Ian to push his steed harder afore the cover of night halted their progress. They rode light to make better time of catching up to the scoundrel who had stolen his wife. With a brief glance at the MacGillivray plaid and the rest of his attire, he barely recognized the knight of old who used to dress in full armor to fight for an English king for many years in his past. He would not need the heavy metal, encasing his body, to see that justice was swiftly served…again.
But English knight or Scottish laird, he was determined to bring Lynet home, and upon her return, if he must needs keep a guard upon her night and day, he would ensure no one would ever dare to steal his wife, again. ’Twas becoming an irritating occurrence, and he cringed when Calum’s words about Ian not knowing the whereabouts of his wife echoed in his head. Certainly, he should be able to keep one tiny woman safe within the walls of her own castle.
Ian pulled back on the reins to slow his mount with Angus and Conner doing the same. He knew of this place, although he had not been here since his youth. Memories of his family spending hours upon hours enjoying the warmth of a summer’s day near the small lake invaded Ian with pleasant thoughts of happier times. For one brief moment, he relished the visions that danced afore his mind. He could see himself and his brother frolicking in the water whilst his sire and mother laughed in joy at their antics. They were peaceful memories of days gone by when he was young enough to believe his father would live forever, and he would never lose faith in his family’s love.
A burst of annoyance almost erupted from his lips as he thought on his brother ruining the clan, but he choked the bitter memories down, not wanting to alert anyone they were near. He shook himself free of the images that quickly faded from his mind. He peered at the landscape with a practiced eye of one who knew what dangers to look for. Ian had no doubt he would find Lynet up ahead, and but a short distance away from where he now stood.
Ian dismounted, and his horse neighed, as if not pleased he must needs stand still. Ian reached out to pat the stallion’s neck. The horse’s skin quivered afore he began to snort air from his nose, toss his head about, and then proceed to rear his front legs up in anticipation. The beast finally gave Ian a nudge, almost as if to tell him to mount up so they could be on their way.
“Easy, boy,” Ian urged with another calming pat. “We must needs handle this matter delicately. We do not want any harm to come to the Lady Lynet, now do we?”
The steed began shaking his head to and fro again, as though answering him. Ian left the horse standing still, knowing the animal would not move ’til called to do so. “Let us away, men,” Ian ordered quietly, and they took off on foot to scout out the area, as quietly as possible.
The silence of the woods was deafening, and it took much skill on their part to remain just as quiet. They came to a bend on the narrow path made from the conveyance that had stolen Lynet away when Ian held up his hand to listen intently to the strange melody coming from up ahead. Obviously, someone did not care if they were heard or not, and yet, the tone had an eerie, sing-song quality that did not give Ian any sense of comfort as to the state of Lynet’s wellbeing.
Inching their way onward, Ian motioned to his two men, and they made their way up a small hill. The advantage was taken, as they now were able to look down into the camp of the very person who had Lynet tied to a tree.
The man was a complete fool to so openly flaunt his wife for any who would care to come upon their camp, if a camp is what one could call it. His practiced eye took in every detail of Lynet as she was uncomfortably tied to a large towering oak. Her captor kept his identity hidden with the hood of his cloak covering his face. He appeared as though he had not a care in the world, as he sat on the back end of the cart, humming his queer little tune, and swinging his feet back and forth in mid-air. He was whittling something in his hands and occasionally threw a stick into the fire that blazed like a beacon so they would be
found.
Lynet never looked more beautiful, even though she was in complete disarray. Her hair stood on end, her face streaked with dirt. Ian’s eyes narrowed, seeing how the simple gown she wore was torn in several places, not to mention her feet appeared battered, for she wore no shoes. She could not be happy, considering she was not only tied to a tree, but gagged, as well. Her eyes were closed, so he had no way of knowing if she slept or was merely resting. There was only one way to know for sure.
He whistled the tune of a nightingale’s song just as softly as he had done but recently when Calum held her captive. He had his answer when Lynet’s eyes opened wide as she searched for his whereabouts in the darkening forest. Her breathing accelerated as her chest rose up and down, and Ian could tell she was more than ready for him to come to her rescue. She began to fidget with the ropes, and he whistled again ’til she remained still. If only her eyes did not show her fright.
Ian moved forward whilst Angus and Connor guarded his back. They had almost made it to the edge of the perimeter of the camp when the scoundrel jumped off the cart to land near Lynet. Ian dared not breathe, considering the man now held a knife to his wife’s throat. Tears escaped her eyes, and he prayed she would remain calm.
“That is far enough, I think, MacGillivray,” the man sneered, pulling off his hood so his identity was at last revealed.
Ian stared at the man who had killed Rolf. “I know you,” Ian snarled, “but who are you to Calum of Clan Davidson?”
The man laughed. “That depends. Since you are standing here, and he is not, should I assume he is dead?”
“Aye.”
The man began to laugh. “Then you have done me a favor, and I now have one less obstacle to hurdle in my quest to gain all I desire.”
“You still have not answered my question. Who are you?” Ian asked, taking a step forward, but held his breath as he watched Lynet’s captor prick the tip of the knife into her neck. A small trickle of blood began to run from the wound.
“I told you, that was far enough, or did you doubt my words?” he tugged at Lynet’s hair ’til she gave a muffled scream of outrage. Ian backed off. “As to your question, my name is Lachlan, not that you will know it for long. Since you have given my brother an early demise, you are now looking at the new laird of the Clan Davidson. I may be a bastard son, but the one person who knew such information as a certainty is now dead. Once I get rid of you, I can collect a handsome ransom for this one here and return to the clan as its leader, since I am next in line to inherit.”
“Let her go, and you may yet live to see another day,” Ian reasoned.
Lachlan gave another eerie laugh. “Let her go? You must be insane. She will bring a fair amount of coinage from her sister’s husband so that I may replenish my dwindling coffers.”
“Aye,” Angus interjected, “if our laird or Lord Dristan does not kill ye first.”
“Shut your mouth, you worthless cur,” Lachlan yelled irrationally. “The estate should have all been mine in the first place, since I was the eldest son! But no…my sire has to go and have a legitimate heir, and I then watched all his attention turn from me. I spent years bowing and scraping at Calum’s whim, and he never let me forget I was a bastard. I became an outcast from my own family and was only useful as a solider…nothing more. Just another faceless man, who if he were to die in battle, would be easily replaced with another.”
“’Tis hardly our fault for your circumstances that have shaped your life,” Ian said. “Surely, there are other women you could wed that will bring you the monies you need to replenish your clan’s needs.”
“Bah! Why should I bother looking for a woman, when this one will suit just as well as the next wench I come across. Besides, I have been to Berwyck, and the Devil’s Dragon will have more than enough coinage to spare with the return of a member of his family. Then, and only then, will I have my revenge.”
“Revenge? What revenge? What the bloody hell does any of this have to do with us?” Ian inquired with furrowed brow.
Lachlan stood, shaking off his cloak and drawing his sword. Ian pulled his forward as a precaution. He would take no chance with someone who appeared bent on killing him and his guards. “’Tis an oath I swore to my dying mother that I would one day avenge her when my sire cast us both aside for his wife and legitimate son. ’Twas only after her death that my father took me in, and his lady wife made my life miserable, never letting me forget where I really came from. The bitch called my mother a whore. My revenge will come when I am able to spit on their graves and claim leadership of the clan,” Lachlan’s smile was confident. “You stand in my way. Therefore, you must die, along with your men.”
Whatever bit of control Lachlan had been holding on to snapped as easily as a brittle dried twig. He lunged forward. Everything happened at once. Ian brought up his sword to defend himself, even whilst Angus and Connor flew to Lynet and began sawing through the ropes to free her. Ian heard her coughing and sputtering as the rag was taken from her mouth.
Ian saw his men usher Lynet a short distance away, even as she protested that she was more than safe. Lachlan dove at Ian, once more. With Lachlan’s arms wrapped firmly about Ian’s waist, the man’s anger drove his momentum, and afore Ian knew what was happening, they were falling into the lake.
Lachlan had no issue with attempting to hold Ian’s head beneath the water as the man’s fingers tightened around his neck. With no thought of wanting to die by drowning, Ian reacted out of sheer necessity to get air into his lungs. Jerking up his knee, Ian hit his mark as he made contact with Lachlan’s groin. A dirty ploy, but it did the trick, and Ian came up sputtering for air.
The wind was only momentarily knocked out of Lachlan, for he had years of anger that had built up in him blinding him to anything but, apparently, avenging his mother. He grabbed at a knife hidden in his belt and, with an evil leer, once more advanced towards his adversary in a rush. He was so focused on reaching Ian’s side, he did not see Ian reach for his sword beneath the water ’til ’twas too late.
Lachlan’s eyes widened in surprise as he all but met his own demise whilst he was skewered upon Ian’s blade. A moment of pity filled Ian’s face, causing Lachlan to scowl with hatred. “May your soul go to the Devil,” Lachlan gurgled in his last breath afore his eyes rolled back into his head, and he fell dead into the water.
As Ian rose, he had no time to think on the dead man floating at his feet, for his arms were quickly filled with the sobbing form of his loving wife.
Chapter Thirty-Three
The Great Hall was for the most part deserted, with the exception a few serf’s milling about finishing their chores. Lynet sat near the fire as Ian rubbed a small amount of a healing concoction she had hastily made on her neck wound. She had fussed that she was more than capable to see to such a tiny wound herself. Yet, Ian would hear nothing of her protest, especially not knowing if Lachlan had used a dirty blade. He had told her on numerous occasions to sit still so he could see to the injury so the wound would not fester. He had already spent a considerable amount of time massaging ointment into her battered feet.
“Do you suppose I shall live,” she teased him, with a soft smile.
He dipped his hands to clean them in a bowl of water afore drying them and handing everything to a serf, who then scurried away. He came to sit down next to her on a stool, but said not a word, and only continued to stare at her, as though she were some figment of his imagination.
Still, he did not answer her question, and she finally reached out to cup his face. He quickly took her hand, and she watched in fascination when his head dipped down to lovingly place a lingering kiss into her palm. She quivered inside at such a romantic gesture and wondered how she would ever live with the man if he knew what he could do to her with just the simplest of kisses.
Ian finally raised his face towards her and leaned forward ’til their foreheads touched. “I swear by all that is holy, no harm shall ever come to you again, my lady, even if I ha
ve to guard you behind our closed chamber door for the rest of our lives,” he vowed solemnly afore capturing her lips in a searing kiss.
Their lips broke apart, and she gave a girlish giggle. “’Tis an interesting proposition you propose, my laird. Mayhap, we should start now,” Lynet suggested as she traced his check with the tip of her finger.
“Not as yet, wife,” he declared, motioning to Lorna who waited near the entrance to the kitchen. “I will see you fed, if I must needs feed you myself. Surely, your stomach could use some nourishment, by now.”
“I am not hungry for food,” she pouted ’til her stomach betrayed her by letting out a very unladylike grumble that surely would be heard throughout all of Christendom. Ian tossed her an I-told-you-you-were hungry-and-so-you-shall-eat kind of a look. ’Twas hard to put up much of a protest once Lorna started laying out such a marvelous array of food to choose from. Surely, there was enough afore them to feed the entire clan. “Mayhap, I could eat just a little.”
Ian’s brow rose as he began filling a trencher of the choicest of meats. He did not stop there, but began to pile on all manner of breads and cheeses ’til Lynet was full just from looking at so much food. “You will eat ’til I am satisfied that you have a full belly. I will have no wife of mine going hungry. Then and only then, will we go to our chamber,” Ian began, but wagged a finger at her as if he knew her thoughts, “to rest,” he finished.
“That does not sound at all like what I had in mind,” Lynet declared in a huff. With a mischievous twinkle in her eye, she began running her toes up the leg of her husband underneath the table.
Ian chuckled and easily caught her foot and began holding it down firmly in his lap. “Behave, you saucy wench, and eat. We can play later, as long as I feel you are up to such an endeavor.”
“Oh, I shall be up to the task, Ian, the question is…will you be able to keep up with me?” Lynet looked up at him shyly, considering she just gave him such a bold, seductive invitation.