“I am the Laird. That is what I am. The rightful Laird of this clan now that Finlay is dead,” he said, and he banged his fist down hard on the table.
At these words, Elaine turned and fled, not stopping until she had reached the doors of her chamber, banging for admittance before falling into Carys’ arms and sobbing uncontrollably.
“Oh, mistress, what has happened? Is it Finlay? Oh, tell me,” Carys said, embracing Elaine, who could barely speak for the tears running down her cheeks.
“Dead, he is dead,” she cried, and Carys let out a cry and began to cry, the two women holding one another as the awful truth of what had been revealed now made itself known.
Elaine was heartbroken at the loss of Finlay. When he had not returned, she had known that something was wrong and that the arrival of bad news was inevitable. But to think he was dead, that he had been killed while trying to bring about peace was a tragedy almost too much to bear. For several days, she refused to leave her chambers, barely speaking, even to Carys, who was clearly growing ever more concerned for her. She ate only the barest of meals and found little interest in anything or anyone. It felt as though her future had been dashed, her hopes now gone and replaced with nothing but emptiness and sorrow. She had not realized the depths of her feelings for Finlay, not until it was now too late.
“My dear mistress, it pains me so much to see ye like this,” Carys said, shaking her head sadly at the sight of Elaine sitting mournfully by the window and staring out across the moorlands.
“And what else am I to dae? What are we to dae now, Carys?” Elaine said, turning to her faithful servant and shaking her head sadly.
“We could return to Carrick, mistress. What more is there here for us now in this sad place? We have nae even a body to wait for and bury. All we dae is sit here and mourn this sad passin’ each day,” Carys replied.
“If ye wish to return to Carrick, then ye must dae so, Carys, but I cannae leave, I feel tis’ my duty to stay. I was to be mistress of this clan, and still, I feel that I am needed here,” Elaine said, rising from her place and making her way over to Carys, who sighed and smiled weakly at her.
“Ye always have a mind to duty, mistress. More so than I,” she said.
“There is more to this than we know,” Elaine replied.
Ever since she had received news of Finlay’s death, Elaine had grown increasingly suspicious as to the truth of it. She had only Allan MacCallum’s word that it was true, the proof of the tunic shirt surely not enough to convince her that Finlay was dead. Perhaps she was clinging to false hope, but there seemed something suspicious, and the fact that Allan had now declared himself Laird in place of Finlay gave further fuel to her suspicions.
“But how shall we know it, mistress? There is nothin’ here for us now,” Carys said, just as a knock came at the chamber door.
“Daenae answer it,” Elaine said, but a further banging now came, and the voice of Allan MacCallum echoed from the passageway outside.
“Elaine, I would speak with ye now. Stop hidin’ in yer chambers and come out,” he said.
“I have nothin’ to say to ye,” she replied.
“But I have much to say to ye, now come out,” he replied, banging on the door again.
Elaine sighed, rising from her place by the window, as Carys shook her head and scowled.
“He has nay right, mistress,” she said, but Elaine shook her head.
“Perhaps we are better returnin’ to Carrick after all. Pack our things, Carys. I shall consider it further,” Elaine said, pulling back the bolt on the door to fin Allan standing angrily outside.
“Walk with me, Elaine,” he said, taking her roughly by the arm.
Elaine was silent, following his lead down the stairs and past the great hall. They walked in silence until they had entered the castle gardens, the sun shining down bright and hot, the flowers filling the air with pleasant, perfumed scent.
“What is it that ye have to say to me,” she asked when at last, they were out of hearing, the gardens quiet and deserted.
“Ye know, Elaine, ye and I could get along far better if ye tried,” he said, turning to her and smiling.
“I have nay desire to get along with ye. In fact, I am considerin’ leavin’ Kilchurn and returnin’ to my father’s castle at Carrick. I came here to marry yer brother, and I remained to dae my duty to yer nephew. With both of them gone, there seems little reason to remain, though I still feel a sense of belongin’ here. I was to be a MacCallum, the mistress of this clan, and I shall always have a place in my heart for Kilchurn and its people,” Elaine said.
“And if I asked ye to stay, what would ye say then? Ye might still be mistress of this clan,” he replied, his eyes narrowing.
Elaine stepped back, her eyes widening as he smiled at her and moved forward, his hands gripping her arms.
“I have nay desire to stay. What dae ye mean?” she asked and licked her lips, laughing and shaking her head.
“Stay here with me, Elaine. I am a far better proposition than my brother or that fool of a nephew who has met his sorry end,” Allan said.
At these words, Elaine could only feel disgust and struggled in his grip, backing away and trying her best to break free from his hold.
“Let go of me. I have nay desire to stay here with ye. Ye have done nothin’ but treat me with contempt. Tis’ disgustin’ the way that ye have brushed the memory of yer brother and nephew aside. All that ye are interested in is power, the power ye have now given yerself. If ye think that ye can take me in the way ye took that, then may God help ye,” she said, breaking free from his hold.
“I am nae easily refused, Elaine. Yer life could be very difficult, or it could be very easy. Become my wife, and I shall see to it that ye are well taken care of. Refuse me, and it shall be the worse for ye,” he said.
“My father shall hear of this,” Elaine said, as he raised his hand to her.
But Elaine was too quick for him, and she brought her own hand across his face, causing him to reel back and curse.
“I am nae yers to dae with as ye please. I will return to Carrick in the mornin’, and ye shall have to find another woman to fall in with yer plans. I shall nae be yer wife, nae for anythin’ at all,” Elaine said, and she marched back across the gardens, as Allan called angrily after her and cursed.
Back in her chambers with Carys, Elaine knew what must now be done, and she began to pack her possessions, the two women making ready to leave. She had no desire to remain a moment longer at Kilchurn, not after Allan MacCallum had made his intentions clear. The thought of marrying him repulsed her, and she could not believe that he would be so bold as to suggest such a thing when she was still mourning the loss not only of the old Laird but of Finlay too.
“He has made his intentions clear, mistress, ye and I cannae remain here any longer. But will he let us leave?” Carys asked as they finished packing their bags.
“He will have nay choice, Carys. We are leavin’, and if he wishes to lock us up to prevent us from doing so, then so be it. When my father discovers it, then he will send an army to rescue us,” Elaine replied.
She had not entirely thought through her escape plan, hoping that Allan MacCallum would see that holding her against her will could achieve nothing. He could not force her to marry him; to do so would be no life for either of them. Love cannot be forced, and Elaine knew that she was merely a trophy in his sight, a prize to be gained, rather than an object of love.
“So, we leave in the mornin’ then, mistress?” Carys asked, and Elaine shook her head.
“Nay, we shall leave tonight under cover of darkness. Far better that way. We shall take our horses from the stables and ride through the night, restin’ durin’ the day. I daenae want to be caught by bandits again. The road is a dangerous one, and we shall be safer at night. Come now, take to yer bed for a few hours. I shall wake ye when tis’ dark,” Elaine said, and Carys nodded.
“I shall dae as ye say, mistress. I wish I were as br
ave as ye are,” she replied.
“Ye are brave, Carys. Many are far less so than ye,” Elain replied, and she embraced her faithful servant, glad to have her company in this most dangerous of tasks.
Chapter Ten
For a moment, Finlay forgot where he was. He rolled over, stretching out and yawning, the hard, cold, flagstone floor a rude awakening as his memories returned. He was lying on the floor of a small room, a narrow window in one corner the only source of light. It was sparsely furnished, a chair in one corner and straw laid out on the floor in another, upon which he now lay in lieu of a bed. A stale piece of bread and a jug of water lay on the floor by the door, which was locked from the outside.
Finlay was cold, his limbs aching, and his whole body battered and bruised. He sat up and groaned, staggering to his feet and leaning against the wall. He took a deep breath, looking around as his eyes adjusted to the early morning light. By his reckoning, he had been in the tower cell for some five days now, though it could have been longer, the days and nights seeming to meld into one with no sign of change or let up in his circumstances.
He picked up the stale piece of bread, tearing off a piece and beginning to chew. It tasted foul, but it was the only food he had, and he forced it down, not knowing when next he would be fed. He took a drink of water and went to the window, peering through the slit and out over the moorlands beyond.
He was a prisoner in a lonely keep, a considerable march over the moorlands from where he and the others had been taken captive by the mysterious woman and her band of men. He had seen no sign of the others since their arrival. Dougal and the soldiers had been taken to the dungeons while he had been locked in this room with little indication of what would happen next. He knew nothing of his captors, nor of their reasons for holding him. All that Finlay knew was that he was a prisoner and had little chance of escape. His sword had been taken, and the door was bolted from the outside. Were these the MacDonalds? Had this all been an elaborate trick to capture him, and what now did they intend to do with him?
He was pondering this for the hundredth time when footsteps in the passageway outside caused him to turn. The bolt across the door was drawn back, and it opened to reveal the woman whose name he did not know, flanked by two of her men, their swords drawn, as they pointed Finlay back to the opposite wall.
“Ye stay back,” one of them said, and Finlay raised his hands.
“I am unarmed and weak from days of eatin’ this foul bread. What threat dae I pose?” he said, shaking his head.
“The MacCallums have always posed a threat, though perhaps ye are less like yer father than we imagined,” the woman replied.
“And who are ye? I have been here for days, and still, I daenae know. Are ye MacDonalds? Are ye some other enemy? Who are ye? I demand to know. What reason dae ye have for holdin’ me here?” Finlay said, his anger growing.
“Who I am is of nay concern to ye, Finlay MacCallum. But while ye are here ye shall dae as I tell ye or it shall be the worst for ye,” she replied.”
“And what of my men? My friend Dougal and the others. What have ye done with them?” Finlay said.
“Ah yes, the one called Dougal. There has been some trouble with him. He has escaped, though how he did so remains a mystery,” the woman said, and Finlay began to laugh.
“So, the birds have flown from yer trap, how unfortunate for ye. I have nay doubt that he will soon return with help, and we shall all be rescued. Ye have made an enemy, one ye shall regret makin’ I assure ye,” Finlay said.
“Enemies dae nae concern me. I have enough of them, Laird. Ye are my prisoner and tis’ ye who find yerself behind a bolted door. Fear nae, we are well defended here. Yer friend’s escape makes nay difference to me,” the woman said, and she began to laugh.
“I shall see to it that ye are punished. If ye are a MacDonald, then let it be known that our clans are enemies from these days forward and that there shall be nay peace until the banner of the MacCallums flies over the castle of the MacDonalds,” Finlay said.
But the woman only laughed, shaking her head, and eyeing him pitifully.
“Ye will remain here, Finlay MacCallum, and ye shall dae as I say. I like havin’ ye here as my prisoner,” she said, advancing towards him, “ye may leave us,” and she turned to the guards.
“But mistress,” one of them began, and the woman drew her sword.
“I will be quite all right. Wait outside,” she said, and the two soldiers nodded.
The door closed behind them, and Finlay and the woman were left alone.
“Who are ye?” Finlay asked, as the woman pointed her sword at him and smiled.
“I can be a friend to ye, Finlay, or more perhaps,” she said, running her finger over his chest and smiling.
“Get away from me,” Finlay said, disgusted by the woman’s behavior.
“Ye could be comfortable here, Finlay, I could make sure of it,” she said, her finger still on the clasp of his tunic as he turned away and shook his head.
“I want nothin’ to dae with ye; with any of this. If I am to be yer prisoner, then tell me why. If I am here as a ransom, then make yer purposes known. There is nay honor in this, in any of this,” he said.
“Have it as ye please, Finlay MacCallum. But consider yer position as ye dae,” she replied, and turning she left the room, the door slammed shut behind her and the bolt drawn across.
Finlay rushed to the door, banging on it with his fists and calling out in anger. But it was to no avail, and he cursed, slumping down onto the straw bed in despair.
“Curse this place, curse my foolishness,” he cried, knowing that he was indeed at the mercy of this strange woman and unable to understand anything of her purposes.
Darkness had fallen over Kilchurn, and Elaine was looking out from her chamber window across the moonlit moorlands. She was dressed in her traveling cloak, wrapped up against the chill of the night. She and Carys had eaten a simple supper of bread and cheese, stowing some of it away in their bags for the journey. They planned to leave as soon as the night watch took up their guard, hoping to face no opposition as they took their horses from the stables and departed.
“He will be angry, mistress. He will try and stop us,” Carys said as they packed the last of their belongings away.
“Then he shall make us his prisoner then, and I daenae think even Allan MacCallum is so foolish,” Elaine replied.
She knew that her father would stop at nothing to rescue her if he discovered that she was being held against her will. The McRobs were a strong and noble clan, and her father a proud and determined man. Any move on the part of Allan MacCallum to make her a prisoner would be met with swift rebuke, and Elaine was determined to leave Kilchurn behind and return home to Carrick. There was nothing left for her among the MacCallums, only the bitter memories of dashed possibilities and the sorrow she felt at losing Finlay and his father.
“Let us hope nae, for both our sakes,” Carys replied.
“The night watch is assemblin’ now, come, tis’ time,” Elaine said, taking up her bags.
Their way was lit only by the flaming torches which lined the castle corridors at night, and they made their way slowly downstairs towards the great hall. Dinner had finished, the last of the clansmen sat drinking whiskey and telling stories by the fire.
Elaine glanced through the door, peering through the gloom to see if Allan MacCallum was among them. But he was nowhere to be seen, and she breathed a sigh of relief, wondering if perhaps they might leave without being seen.
“Tis’ very quiet, mistress,” Carys said, as they crossed the courtyard towards the stables, the sounds of the horses whinnying echoing through the still night air.
“Aye, we shall take the horses and be on our way. Come now,” Elaine said, but at that moment, the sound of a horn went up from the castle battlements, and a commotion erupted from above.
“Enemy, close the gates, enemy abroad,” came the cry, and Carys clutched at Elaine in terror.
&nb
sp; “Quickly, mistress, we must return to the castle, we must go back to the keep. Tis’ nae safe,” she cried.
“Nay, tis’ our chance to escape. Nay-one will stop us now. Come, we must get the horses. We shall ride out in the confusion,” Elaine said, pulling Carys towards the stables.
Around them, the clansmen rushed to and fro, the castle gates now being closed as the sounds of attack echoed through the night.
“Tis’ too dangerous, mistress,” Carys said, as arrows flew over the battlements.
“Nay, tis’ our only chance, we shall ride together,” Elaine said, hurriedly strapping their bags onto one of the horses and saddling it for the ride.
“One horse cannae take us both, nae with all that. I shall ride too,” Carys said, throwing a saddle over one of the horses and climbing onto its back.
Highlander’s Forbidden Desire: Scottish Medieval Highlander Romance Page 11