by Johanna Maas
"Thank you, my lady."
Lizbeth simply stared back at the warrior as she nodded her head and silently acknowledged his words. For what could she say? They had been attacked, his clansmen had kept her safe and this was a small repayment for that service. And 'twas her duty to heal.
Blake moved his hand to the small of her back as he guided her over to his large steed where he gently placed her upon the beast's back once again. With one easy movement, he was seated behind her and pulling her in close and upon his lap. Even during these uncertain times, his heart clearly raced for this unidentified beauty who sat before him.
The Highlanders rode quickly and into the evening in total silence until the darkness began to encompass the tired lot. It was only then that the small party left the road for another protected area. This time they made their camp next to a small stream and within an outcropping of trees.
After dismounting, Lizbeth moved slowly and hesitantly over to the water's edge. With a sad sigh she acknowledged this was the first time since that fateful day she ever had a chance to stand before water such as this. She stared silently as she listened to the sounds it made as is lightly lapped up against the stones upon the shore. Perhaps it was her fears of the unknown, or the extreme fright she felt during the battle earlier on this day, but dreadful memories of that long ago time and of another place dredged up unexpectedly and now flashed within her mind.
Lizbeth closed her eyes as the terror was set in motion as the memories passed before her of the dark and dreaded Macnab and of that terrible day and her eventual fate. Bit by bit the terror overwhelmed her as a slight tremble consumed her body.
Blake watched Lizbeth as she closed her eyes and the strange emotions began to cross her face in the soft moonlight. By watching her reactions, he suspected she held a great sadness within. And when her breath began to come quickly, he stepped forward and gently placed his hand upon her shoulder. It was a gesture meant to show her she was safe and he would protect her from whatever demons she held inside.
Lizbeth had been lost in her thoughts until he touched her and startled her back to the present. Her breath hitched wildly and she jumped in fright. For several long moments she stared with a true panic at the Highland warrior before her.
Blake could only gaze down at her with a sadness for the state she was in. What had scared her so? Why was she always frightened and why would she not speak to him nor answer any of his questions?
He spoke soothingly, "Please, my lady, do not be afraid. Please trust me when I say you are safe now and away form the Macnab. I will protect you and would never harm you."
Lizbeth could only stare at the great warrior with his voice so soothing and only wished she could trust. But she knew it was safest if she did not. The fear was still ingrained deeply within her, for what if the Macnab followed and were able to steal her back? Or worse yet, what if this was planned by Garret himself? Could this be his sick way of testing her to see if she was worthy enough to keep safe? Was she strong enough to keep the secret that would enable her father and her brothers to be safe? She understood she had to do her duty and ensure of her family's security…she had to protect them even if they did not understand it was she.
With a weary sigh, she forced her past and the fearful images from her mind as she turned from the large warrior and moved slowly to the water's edge. Gradually, Lizbeth lowered herself upon the bank so she could bring the refreshing water to her lips. For long moments she drank and concentrated only upon the cool liquid as it slowly flowed down her throat.
Once she was satisfied, she stood wiping the droplets from her chin with the back of her hand and turned once again to the warrior who was waiting for her. She nodded as she walked beyond where he stood and moved over to the side of the beast that had carried them thus far.
With her hand she gently rubbed at the great steed's neck. She felt the softness of his coat and the strength of his body as she attempted to make her payment for his effort. She closed her eyes as she laid her head upon his as she lightly scratched the underside of his nose.
Blake watched as Lizbeth moved from his side as she lovingly caressed his large steed's neck. He at first was concerned for her for she was so small and his steed so large and spirited. But he detected immediately she had a way with the animal. She most definitely had an understanding of the beast.
The Scottish warrior laid his large cape upon the ground as he indicated for Lizbeth to sit as he provided her with darkened bread and a wedge of deep yellowed cheese. Although she was quite ravenous, she forced herself to eat slowly as she watched him guardedly through her lowered lashes. She did not wish for him to know as she studied him closely and watched his every move. Lizbeth suddenly stifled a yawn, knowing her body was exhausted and more so than it had ever been.
Noting her weariness, Blake stood to retrieve the blanket from his horse. Before he could return to her side, she was lying upon the ground on her side and already in a deep slumber. She had bent her legs slightly and placed her hands below her dainty chin while her golden hair spread out enticingly upon the ground.
Blake bent over her, feeling the chill in the air as he gazed at her silent form. She moaned slightly in her sleep as she curled up tighter, her body unknowingly beginning a slight shiver in an attempt to guard itself from the cool of the night. He slowly bent forward and laid the heavy blanket out over her as she continued to tremble.
Blake looked down sadly at the one he knew as Lizbeth and could plainly see she was uncomfortable. And he only wished to help. Without another thought, he laid down behind her upon the blankets as he pulled her into his arms to share his own warmth with her. Within minutes and in her sleep she had recognized his heat and snuggled slightly into him. He held his breath as she unknowingly moved her backside closer to him as she attempted to capture all of his warmth while brushing up against him. As she settled into contentment, she sighed prettily and in satisfaction in her sleep.
While his intentions had been noble at the time, he was now miserable. This alluring woman with her beautiful face and luscious breasts now lay against his body and completely within his arms. Blake's heart beat heavily within his chest as his mind wandered freely thinking of this one with surely no sleep to be had for the whole of the night.
CHAPTER FIVE
It was late afternoon the next day when the small band of Scottish Highlanders made their way over a generous rise to where they could see a grand keep in the distance. Lizbeth knew it must be the warrior's home for when it came into view, a slight smile touched his lips and he raised his chin in pride. She watched him from the corner of her eye as he proudly surveyed the land stretching out before them. The greening expanses of the open fields flowed graciously below the brilliant blue sky. In the distance, a small stretch of trees graced the hillside as the majestic keep sat stoically upon a large hill before them. The long and lazy road wound elegantly upwards and around a slight rise.
They cantered forward moving quickly across the meadows, catching the slight breeze as it cooled their bodies from the warm late afternoon sun. As they gained the large drawbridge and moved up the worn path approaching the keep, Lizbeth took note of the flurry of activity within the great walls. Clansmen and women proudly sporting the same plaid as were her captors busily moved about. They stopped to stare and greet the small party as they passed by. Steadily, the group moved up the road and into the courtyard that spread out widely and gracefully before the castle.
As they approached the impressive stone stairway leading to the keep's entry, the intricate wooden doors opened above and emitted two regally clad people. As Lizbeth looked upwards she noted it was an older man and a young woman. The warrior who was her constant companion of these last days gazed up over her head and with a slight smile said in greeting, "Father! Cait!"
Lizbeth looked towards the two who were standing above them on the landing and were now gazing down quizzically upon her. Both stood tall and stately and both equally showed confusion and
astonishment upon their serene faces.
The laird was an older man but it was obvious he was just the mature version of the warrior who now sat behind her upon the black steed. And even if the Highlander had not shouted his greeting of 'father', it would have been apparent to Lizbeth he was of this man's seed. His graying hair was long, but his blue eyes and other strong features of his face were so very similar to his son. They both stood very tall and were impressively built, their strength and power quite comparable in nature.
The woman standing beside him was a bit more of a puzzle and most likely very near Lizbeth's own age. She stood tall and nobly upon the top stair with a slight smile upon her face. Her beautiful deep auburn hair was stunning, falling gently over her shoulders and completely down to her tiny waist. Even at this distance, Lizbeth could see the beauty of her vibrant green eyes and what she hoped to be a true kindness present upon her face.
But who was this woman? The laird's much younger wife, or the wife or betrothed of one of the great warriors? For there was a softness that crossed the clansman's face when he looked upon her.
Lizbeth sat unmoving in front of the warrior as she waited for her orders. She had no idea what was expected of her and a fear began to build for the unknown.
Blake looked down at the lass who sat before him upon his large beast with sadness for very few words had been exchanged between the two, understanding it was not for a lack of trying. Even though they had been together for two full days upon his steed, he knew nothing of her, nor she of him.
Blake could feel her trembling within his arms. He gazed at her sorrowfully realizing she had not asked anything of him. While he had made several attempts at conversation, she simply chose to sit silently and had not responded. She never spoke of what was on her mind nor questioned her fate even once.
He also realized she most likely had no idea his name or to where he had taken her. Why would she not ask? Did she not care? With a heaviness upon his heart, he slowly dismounted for he understood it was perhaps out of fear and he became angry with himself for that too late realization. He turned and reached up for her, looking deeply into her face as he attempted to gain an understanding of her feelings. He looked into her eyes and presented a slight smile in an attempt to comfort her. He realized he wished to reassure her but had either no idea how to quiet her fears nor did he understand how to gain her trust. It took him by surprise that in that moment he realized for the first time it mattered to him.
The warrior moved his hand to the small of Lizbeth's back as together they walked towards the keep. Gently, he encouraged her up the stairs before him. As they neared the top of the landing, she stopped before the great laird and the unknown beauty named Cait. Lizbeth bowed her head and closed her eyes in respect, hoping she was carrying out what was deemed to be an appropriate greeting. For it had been years since she had needed such skills. The Macnab was a gruff and severe household and never showed manners nor ever sought gentle respect. So Lizbeth was left to her own devices, drawing only on her memories of the long ago teachings of her mother.
When she had paid her respects as most kindly as she knew how, she returned herself to her full height and raised her face to the laird. She looked up and into the great clansman's eyes and noticed a cold hardened look upon his face. He stared down his nose at her, his own chin held high and unyielding as he openly scrutinized her.
She tried not to react. While the stare did unsettle her considerably, it was what she had grown used to over these last several years. The great laird of the Macnab clan had also been stern and had no time for the insignificant inhabitants of the keep such as the women.
"Father, this is Lizbeth. Lizbeth, this is my father and my sister Cait."
Sister. She moved her eyes from the stare of the great chieftain and over to the younger woman. For some strange reason, Lizbeth noted the declaration of 'sister' made her feel a sense of relief and just a little bit better for the knowing of it. But she still had no idea to where she was or what was expected of her or if she was to be considered friend or foe by this clan. Lizbeth held her tongue and her thoughts to herself. Her years of silence and her years of understanding her place had taught her well while her duty to her family weighed so heavily upon her heart.
As to not offend the pair nor look untrained, she attempted a slight smile as she looked at each of them as she said lowly, "My Laird. My Lady."
Blake interjected most hurriedly, "Cait, can you please help me get Lizbeth settled in one of the rooms upstairs? For the ride has been rather long."
The woman named Cait smiled warmly, stepping forward to take Lizbeth's arm within her hands as she brought her near to her side and across the slight landing.
"Of course. Please let us go inside." As they moved towards the door, she spoke over her shoulder, "Dear brother Lucas, will you please ask Millie to bring us a tray of refreshments up to her room?"
Lizbeth peered over her own shoulder at the clansmen who was now also identified as one of the brothers of this powerful warrior and his name was Lucas. She moved her gaze back forward, allowing the lovely red haired beauty with the kind eyes to take her arm and draw her inside of the keep and beyond the impressively carved wooden doors gracing the entry.
They stood only briefly upon the landing overlooking the keep's great room. The gray majestic stone walls rose grandly upwards a full two stories into the air. There were large and elegant tapestries gracing their walls along with several iron candelabras between the wall hangings holding multiple candles already lit for the evening. Across the chamber, a grand showing of antique weaponry was proudly displayed above the massive hearth consuming a large portion of the opposite wall.
Fine wooden tables lined much of the chamber with matching wooden benches neatly laid about. The floors were covered with fresh rushes, their light musky scent mixing with the pleasant food aromas wafting in from the kitchens that were assured to be stretched from the far side of the great hall.
Cait led Lizbeth through the large room and up the graceful set of stone stairs to what she assumed to be the family quarters above. Several ornate and wooden doorways lined the long and darkening hallway. The two women moved quietly down to its murky end with Blake trailing closely behind.
Cait stopped before the last of the finely carved doors and opened it slightly while allowing Lizbeth to enter. She timidly crossed the threshold before the other two and moved from within Cait's hold. Lizbeth stepped forward and when she was a few paces within the room, she stopped abruptly and turned as she stood quite fearful and before them. She gazed at both Cait and the warrior and deeply into their eyes with a slight apprehension upon her face. No one moved and no one spoke while the silence hung heavily between them.
Lizbeth lifted her chin slightly as she spoke with a note of confidence. She said the same words as she had each night for the last seven years of her existence, "Yes, I am ready."
Cait furrowed her brow and looked with questioning eyes towards her brother who was still standing beside her. Blake returned the look just the same to Cait, each unsure as to her meaning.
Blake asked with a furrow upon his brow, "Ready?"
Lizbeth looked back at the two as she continued, "For the evening. You may lock me in now."
Blake's eyes widened further in saddened realization of her words as his mouth dropped open while his understanding dawned. He then closed his eyes as the vision flashed through his mind of her door as it lay splintered at his feet. He sighed heavily as he looked into her eyes. He spoke firmly and with a slight tone of anger for how she must have been treated.
"You are not a prisoner here, Lizbeth. We would never lock you in."
Lizbeth immediately flushed from his reaction, looking down and away as the tears instantly welled within her eyes. The harsh tone of his voice sparked a panic that grew quickly within her. Now she feared she had angered the large warrior and she felt a sure shame for she had not known nor understood her position here within this new keep. She simply
stared down at the floor before her as her breath hitched within her throat for she was so scared and confused.
It was the red haired beauty who gracefully moved forward and placed her arms around her and provided a comfort. The tenderness she showed had not been felt by Lizbeth since her mother had been alive. Memories surfaced as the beautiful and always patient face of the Lady Stewart flashed within her mind as the loneliness surfaced and threatened to overtake her.
Lizbeth tried desperately to halt the emotions growing for she had not wanted to display her despondency before these people. The fear she had held within her heart for such a long time suddenly burst forth as the gates of emotion opened. Slowly, the tears spilled over and began to trail heavily down her cheeks as her shoulders began to shake in her misery.
For long moments, Cait held the lass and provided her with comfort as she silently willed her strength. She held her close as Lizbeth's shoulders trembled with her sorrow. While Cait did not understand of this forlorn woman, she still wished she could take away her pain. As she held the one called Lizbeth within her arms, she looked over her head to her brother as she nodded towards the door and sent him a silent message he should now leave.
Blake could only stare at the reactions of the exquisite woman as his heart broke for the pain that had obviously once been her existence. When his eyes caught Cait's, he understood immediately it was a woman's touch she needed at this moment. Slowly, Blake quietly backed out of the room as he watched as Cait held the tearful woman within her arms, firmly closing the door silently behind him.
For long moments he stood just on the other side of the door with his back resting upon the heavy frame and contemplating the mystery of her life. Blake attempted to piece it all together, thinking now upon what he realized were the not so subtle signs of her existence. He considered Lizbeth's silent and hesitant nature, the wonder and awe she exhibited during their journey and the lock upon her door. These were all signs of her appalling and solitary existence.