Highlander's Stolen Wife: A Medieval Scottish Historical Romance Book

by Alisa Adams

  "Aye," the three men chorused.

  Lachlan was touched by their devotion.

  "They will come back tomorrow, and we will be ready for them," Lachlan stated. "They are not an army and will be no better armed than we are. In fact, we are better off because we have this." From somewhere behind the wooden front door he produced a heavy sword. "This was Murdo's, but I doubt that he knew how to use it."

  He looked at it speculatively. He would not wield it in the confined space of the small room, but outside such a weapon was deadly.

  "It is not a great blade," he said, "but it will suffice. Murdo will be where he cannot be seen, and I will ensure that he makes no sound. Indeed, he will not be able to move a muscle. And we have Jamie, who is afraid of nothing! "

  There was a ripple of laughter around the room.

  Shona thought that, at that moment, Lachlan looked bigger than himself. He was a big man anyway, but he had the quality of filling a space just by his very presence.

  "Shona." He turned to her, and as their eyes met, he could not speak. Her face seemed to be filling his vision as her eyes looked up at him and her lips parted as if she would kiss him right there and then in front of her whole family. His throat was dry, and he took another sip of ale to get over the awkward moment.

  "Do you and Catriona have a place to hide?"

  They looked at each other.

  "Up in the old abandoned church, St. Philomena's," Shona suggested doubtfully. "But they say 'tis haunted."

  "Pfft!" Catriona flapped her hand and pulled out a big wooden cross from under her smock. "We have protection. The Bishop of Inverness himself has blessed this cross, and it has touched the finger bone of St. Andrew, our patron saint, whose relics lie in the cathedral. Let Satan come near, and I will make him sorry!"

  Murdo the Coward

  Lachlan almost laughed at Catriona's fierceness, but he was touched by her faith and simple piety. He himself had no such faith in ghosts, demons, God or angels. To him, the world was as he saw it. He had enough to worry about in the here and now without dabbling in the supernatural.

  "People darena' come near it though," Shona said thoughtfully, "so it seems that 'tis the best spot."

  Lachlan stood up, draining his pitcher of ale.

  "I will keep watch tonight," he said firmly, then, remembering his position as a guest, "with your permission of course." He bowed his head slightly to Campbell.

  Campbell grinned widely and clapped him on the shoulder. "Of course you have my permission, lad," he replied, "for we are but simple farm folk who knaw naethin' of self-defense or warfare. Ye may dae as ye please with my blessing. Indeed, I knaw not what we’d have done withoot ye."

  Lachlan put his hand on top of Campbell's. If only he had had a father like this man.

  Campbell looked up into Lachlan's strong, dependable face. He had three fine sons, but mayhap if things had been different, the laird would have favored Shona, and if so he would have made a fine son.

  Lachlan looked at the sword. "Have you got a whetstone?" he asked, looking along the length of the sword.

  "Aye – for the axes," Cameron replied, frowning. "But 'tis in the barn, and so is Murdo."

  "All the better!" Lachlan looked as if he really relished the encounter, which, in fact, he did.

  He walked in a leisurely fashion out to the barn, where Murdo was still chained up. His eyes blazed hatred.

  "Let me go right now, and I will spare yer life," he growled out.

  Lachlan raised a sardonic eyebrow. "No," he said simply.

  He picked up the smooth whetstone and began to gently skim the blade of the sword on it. From time to time sparks flew but Lachlan did not pause in his work.

  Murdo watched, half-hypnotized, as the blade became keener and keener. His heart had begun to hammer with fear.

  Lachlan worked very slowly, deliberately spinning out the time and pausing to check the blade from time to time. Once he deliberately gave himself a small nick and blood welled up on his fingertip. He sucked it away, grimacing, but the little bit of theater had done its job. Murdo had had no idea how to sharpen or wield a sword, and now, faced with someone who did, he was terrified. He had stolen the weapon from a dead knight and used it to strike fear into the hearts of his workers, but like all bullies, he was a coward at heart.

  Now he watched Lachlan spin the weapon around his head and across his body, and finally, he heard the dreadful whistling noise that it made as it sliced through the air from Lachlan's head to his feet.

  Lachlan stuck his head out of the door and called for Shona. "Can you please come in here, lass?" he asked politely, "and bring me a turnip."

  "A turnip?" Shona's voice was incredulous. "Why?"

  "Don’t ask questions," he replied sternly, but his expression was mischievous as he looked at her.

  Shona shrugged and turned away, returning a moment later with the biggest turnip Lachlan had ever seen. As Shona and Murdo watched, he placed it on the chopping block. He took a long, hard look at Murdo, then, with one graceful twist of his body, and before either Murdo or Shona had had time to move, he had sliced off the top of the turnip with a two-handed horizontal sweep of the blade. If either of them had blinked, they wouldn't have seen it at all.

  Lachlan hefted the sword in his hand, carefully avoiding its razor-sharp blade, then said to Murdo, "Now, tell me how you're going to spare my life."

  Murdo glared at him. "But I hae ma hands tied behind ma back and no weapon, whereas you have a big sword and free hands," Murdo pointed out. "Not very brave on your part, is it?" he added with heavy sarcasm.

  "No," Lachlan agreed, "but it's the same as a big brute of a man threatening a small woman."

  Murdo said nothing.

  "Shona, go back inside," Lachlan ordered, not taking his eyes off Murdo, "Murdo and I have business to attend to."

  Shona hesitated in the doorway.

  "Now, please," Lachlan said calmly.

  Shona obeyed reluctantly but went straight into the living room where the family was gathered.

  "I think Lachlan's going to untie Murdo," she said anxiously.

  The family rushed into the barn where Murdo was standing rubbing his unbound wrists.

  "You're no' lettin' him go, Lachlan?" Campbell's voice was incredulous.

  "I don't think so," Lachlan said lazily. He took the big sword and put it on the ground between him and Murdo. He looked at the family, then looked back at Murdo. "May the best man win."

  On the count of three, Murdo lunged for the sword and picked it up, gleefully waving it around in front of himself. Lachlan kicked it out of his hand. It landed on the floor and skidded towards him. Lachlan picked it up and backed Murdo against the wall, holding the point of the sword under his chin.

  For a moment they stood, eyeball to eyeball, then Lachlan dropped the sword on the floor again. This time Murdo was more cautious. He kept his eyes on Lachlan's face as he stooped down to grasp the sword again, but it was the wrong place to look.

  As he stood up, Lachlan ground the heel of his boot onto Murdo's toes. He let out a yell like a wounded boar, just as Lachlan dropped the sword again. This time he abandoned it altogether and attempted to grab at Lachlan's genitals, only to be stopped by a knee under the chin and a vicious kick back against the wall.

  Lachlan picked up the sword and offered it hilt first to his enemy. It ought to have been a simple matter of running him through with a very keen-bladed weapon, but Murdo was now so wary that he suspected a trick. When he did lunge forward, Lachlan sidestepped neatly then caught Murdo's arm and twisted it upwards between his shoulder blades. Murdo screamed.

  "Still want to spare my life?" Lachlan pushed the arm up further, and Murdo collapsed on his knees on the floor.

  Campbell tied him up again.

  Shona caught Lachlan's eye, and he gave her a mischievous smile.

  "Ye enjoyed that, did ye not?" she asked.

  "I did," he confessed. "I know I shouldn't have, and I know I was
showing off, but I hate bullies, especially those who hurt women. You are so much tenderer and gentler than we brutish men, and you deserve to be treated with respect."

  Shona gazed at him silently for a moment, then went back inside.

  Murdo's Men

  Lachlan kept watch all through the night, alert for the slightest unusual sound. From time to time he heard Murdo coughing or grunting in his sleep, but he paid it no mind. He had a plan forming in his mind, but it needed the Donaldson family's co-operation before he could act on it.

  At first light, Shona came out to milk the goats, then she brought him a cup of fresh milk, still warm.

  "Good morning." She gave him a slight smile.

  He drank it thirstily.

  "Good morning," he replied, and she gave him another cup.

  She wanted to push back the dark hair from his brow and stroke his face with its three-day growth of beard, but she did nothing.

  "You had better go," he told her, standing up. He towered over her, and as he looked down into her pale green eyes he thought again how absolutely striking she was, both inside and out. "Is the church far away?" he asked, to break the silence.

  "Half a mile at most," she replied, shrugging. "We are quite fit, Lac—" She stumbled to a halt, wondering what to call him.

  "Lachlan," he supplied, eyes twinkling."'Tis my name, Shona."

  She sighed. "Time to feed the beast, I think," she said, looking at the barn with a grimace.

  "I will do it," Lachlan said firmly, and Shona looked at him gratefully.

  She went inside and dished out a generous spoonful of oats porridge from the heavy iron pot suspended above the stove into a bowl.

  Murdo was cowering in the corner, and when he saw Lachlan, his expression was a mixture of hatred and fear in equal measure.

  "Did you sleep well?" Lachlan asked politely.

  "Aye. Did you?" Murdo said sullenly.

  "I had no sleep, as you well know," Lachlan replied evenly. He began to untie Murdo's hands, knowing that he was no longer a flight risk. He flicked a glance at Murdo's face. "Unlike you, we are not animals. The privy is outside, but I will be standing guard."

  Murdo went to relieve himself, and when he emerged, Lachlan allowed him to wash in a bucket of water. He ate the porridge hungrily, and when Lachlan offered him a cup of milk, he drank it in one draught and asked for more.

  Lachlan shook his head and handed him a cup of water. "Be thankful that this family has given you the privilege of eating. I would have let you starve," he said.

  The two men looked at each other in mutual antipathy for a moment before Lachlan led Murdo back into the barn. This time he tied not only his hands but his feet together. Murdo protested strongly in no uncertain terms, using the foulest language imaginable. Lachlan's face was expressionless, and he took absolutely no notice, but when Murdo saw the strips of torn cloth that were going to be used to gag him, he roared. Lachlan looked up in mock surprise.

  "Why dae you not jist kill me?" Murdo spat. "I am not afraid tae die."

  "Because I care not what you want," Lachlan said silkily, "and if it suited my purposes, you would already be dead. But there are many ways to die – quick and slow – and only I shall decide which one to inflict."

  Then he swiftly and efficiently gagged and bound Murdo's mouth, leaving his nostrils free to breathe. He had one more strip of cloth left, and he looked at it thoughtfully, then back at Murdo, whose eyes were now bulging with terror.

  "Nay, I think I will leave your sight – for now," he said with a sigh. "But only because you will need it for walking."

  Then Lachlan dropped the playful tenor of his voice, and it became menacing.

  "Listen to me, you piece of dung," he growled out. "If you cause any more trouble I will flay you alive and use your miserable skin as a carpet to wipe my muddy feet on. And do not think this is an idle threat." He stood up and looked down at his captive, then he turned on his heel and strode out.

  In the kitchen, Shona and Catriona had already made preparations to leave, carrying with them all the supplies they needed for a day and night in the open. The animals were being herded to a secluded cave in the side of the hillside where they could be penned safely, all except Jamie, who was standing in the barn blithely eating hay from his manger while Murdo squirmed, trying in vain to loosen himself from his bonds.

  Jamie would allow anyone to ride him unless they were cruel, which strangely enough Murdo was, but when Lachlan was around him, no one else existed for the big horse, such was his love and loyalty for his master.

  Now, Jamie looked down at Murdo without much interest, vaguely wondering what all the fuss was about. Oh, well, he had hay, water, shelter, a place to sleep, and most of all Lachlan. Life was good. Then his head came up sharply and his ears pricked up because, like all animals, he could sense danger, which was just as well because danger was on its way.

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  Afterword

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  DISCLAIMER:

  This book is a work of fiction. Some of the characters are real historical figures, but the others exist only in the imagination of the author. All events in this book are fictional and for entertainment purposes only.