The Highland Captive

by Johanna Maas

  And he knew with a sadness in his heart his life was clearly not his own. It belonged to his laird and his clan and he had no right to promise her anything. That realization devastated him for what was he to do now? He could plead with his father, would plead with him desperately but he did not hold out much hope. His father had a plan, his laird always had a plan and Blake could do nothing to stop it.

  Blake held Lizbeth close as he softly kissed her as a sadness nearly overwhelmed him for he knew while she may not realize it now, he had hurt her deeply. He had truly wounded her beyond repair and knew someday she would despise him. He had been so callous and had taken this gift from her. He had stolen her innocence and she could never get that back. And he knew she deserved so much better than this.

  With a sure misery he was now resolved this time and this moment would be the last he would see her alone unless he could convince his father otherwise. But he really had no hope. He truly promised if only to himself that he would make sure he would stay far away from Lizbeth. He understood he could not control himself around her and he vowed to harm her no more.

  Lizbeth lay within his arms as he kissed her as a joy spread through her heart like no other she had ever experienced. While she had felt the passions he kindled in her previously, she had no idea the extent of it nor to the places he could take her. She understood she had given herself to him but truly had wanted to even though they were not wed. In all of the recent years she had been completely miserable and her life meant nothing until he brought her from her desolation and gave her a new hope. And she owed him much for that. She owed him everything. This was her payment to him for that gift he had given her and she never would regret her actions no matter the consequences.

  When their breathing had slowed, he rolled from on top of her and gently kissed her once again. As he moved his lips tenderly over hers, he held her tightly within his powerful arms as the pain continued to resonate within his heart. As he held her, he reached down and moved her skirts to modestly cover her legs. He knew his time was running short and he should leave her, must leave her if only for her sake.

  Lizbeth slowly came out of her haze of ecstasy and realized they were in the stables. The dawn was soon to be upon them and the activities for the day would begin. Not wishing to be found in this precarious position, she hastily made to rise.

  Blake understood her thoughts immediately as she moved from below him and nervously looked around with a concern upon her face. He stood and he reached down to help her to rise next to him.

  Lizbeth gazed up towards her warrior through the murky darkness with a smile upon her face but felt a silent awkwardness settling around them. His hands still encircled her waist and as she attempted to catch his gaze, he averted his eyes while clearly not wishing to look upon her. He then stepped back slightly, permitting her to stand on her own as he dropped his arms to his sides.

  A sure coolness consumed her as he stepped further away from her, he clearly now uncomfortable with their closeness and with her presence. Lizbeth felt as if her heart was ripped from within her breast as she watched his face as it took on an impassive stare. Without looking directly into her eyes, he simply inclined his head in her direction and turned on his heal walking away from her down the dark and dirt path. Blake walked away and left Lizbeth feeling rejected and all alone.

  ******

  The Laird Campbell stood in his window looking down over the Stewart estates in the predawn light. He was deep in thought for he was preparing as he considered the plight of his own clan.

  He noticed a motion down near the entry of the stables and watched as his eldest son Blake emerged from the murky entryway. A small smile appeared on the great laird's face for he was proud of his son and of the man he had become. He was ever attentive to his people as he was loyal to his chieftain and most dutiful to his clan. He was a good one and would prove to be a strong leader when it was his time. The laird watched intently as his son and heir moved towards the keep as he disappeared from his line of sight.

  It was just a moment later when he noticed the second person exit the stables and the knowing smile upon his face grew a bit wider. He concluded his son had most likely just had a tryst with one of the household maids for it was definitely a slight lass exiting the stables directly after him. And there was nothing wrong with him taking advantage for the young man surely had his needs.

  The smile was instantly removed from his face and an anger overtook him as he recognized the lass as she removed the hood from her head. He tightened his fists harshly at his side as he clenched his jaw tightly. Her long and blonde tresses and her small form were unmistakable for it was the Lady Lizbeth.

  The laird's rage grew for this is not at all what he had planned and this simply would not do. There would be no match between these two for he had great ambitions for his son with even stronger alliances to be made. His hopes had always been to strategically match his son with someone who would elevate them further in the eyes of their king. It was acceptable to pledge his daughter to this clan but definitely not his first born son.

  The Laird Campbell clenched his fists as he tensed his jaw further as the fury grew ever so dark within. He knew he must act now and he must act quickly…

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Lizbeth stood in her room shortly after the dawn broke with a coldness now lying heavily upon her heart. She had acknowledged she loved Blake and she had given herself to her warrior fully. In the end, she felt abandoned and confused by his actions for this had been so unlike all she had known of him. The empty look upon his face just before he left her had cut her deeply. He had walked away and soundly rejected her.

  But Lizbeth knew deep inside no matter his reactions that had she the ability to do it all over again, she knew in her heart it would be the same. She truly and unequivocally would not change anything. She would still surrender everything to this man, her warrior, for the life he had given her and for the love upon her heart. Even if it was not returned.

  She fought the tears that threatened as they burned within her eyes. With a sigh and a vow of strength, Lizbeth resolved she would never show this kind of weakness again and could not afford to show any kind of vulnerability. She knew deep inside she was a strong woman and recognized she was slowly and finally turning into the person she knew she should be. She would overcome all that had befallen her, for the man who had sired her, the clan that had raised her and the proud woman she was born to be.

  A slight knock was heard at her door drawing her from her thoughts and turned slightly as she watched Cait slowly enter. Cait. Her beautiful friend who had given so much of herself to help her through her own troubled times and who now clearly needed her. One look at her distressed face and Lizbeth knew whether she was ready or not, she was to become her sister. And more importantly, she would become the wife to her brother Macay and future chieftain of the Stewart clan. With one glance, Lizbeth could see Cait was afraid, knowing she must perform her duty by pledging her life for her father and her clan.

  Cait walked hesitantly into the room as her attempt at a brave smile began to falter. Lizbeth could only smile weakly herself, wanting desperately to help and wishing she could make it right but with a heaviness still upon her heart. She held out her arms as Cait moved forward quickly and fell within her grasp as she clutched her tightly. She held her with all her strength for long moments as Lizbeth attempted to instill within Cait the will to confront all before her.

  The wedding was to take place at two-o'clock on that same afternoon. That was, if they could get the priest there on time for the Stewart estates held no clergy in residence. But they had gratefully heard he was visiting a neighboring estate and one that was not too far away. It had been Burk and Lucas who had volunteered to make the journey together, to bring him back and in time before their own warriors could embark upon their clan's war.

  Lizbeth had ordered up a tray of food which allowed them to stay in the chambers above for she did not wish for either of them
to have to enter the great hall until the ceremony was upon them. She had also ordered up a tub with water so that Cait could take a bath and prepare herself for this blessed day.

  The two women spent all of their time together mostly in silence, each desperately lost in their own thoughts for no words were needed. The bond these two women had formed was a strong one and they shared a true understanding of each other's support and could take contentment just from each other's presence.

  Lizbeth sighed heavily as she gazed across the room to the gown Cait would wear. It was a true reminder of the special day as it hung upon the outside of the wardrobe. As she peered out the window at the sun already past its apex, she realized it must be nearing the one o'clock hour and it was time to ensure Cait was prepared for this momentous event.

  Cait looked exquisite in her emerald green gown with a dipping neckline and three quarter length sleeves. The full skirts accentuated her tiny waist as the color brought a new life to her eyes. Lizbeth knew this was a truly lovely woman standing before her and was hopeful her brother would appreciate her exquisiteness and would grow to love her. More than anything, Lizbeth knew she deserved nothing less.

  Lizbeth brushed Cait's deep crimson tresses until they glowed in the firelight, leaving her hair long and unadorned. She stood back slightly as she gazed intently at the stunning bride with a smile. Lizbeth knew she was truly beautiful and was now prepared for the next phase of her life.

  Lizbeth herself had found one of her own mother's gowns hanging in the wardrobe that fit her nearly perfectly. Even though it was exceptionally lovely, she had not really noticed nor cared what she wore, for her heart was still as chilled as it had been that early morning when she left the stables. Lizbeth begrudgingly admitted it was for Cait's sake alone she dressed accordingly and pretended to care for her own appearance.

  At ten minutes before the appointed hour, a slight knock was heard upon the door. Both women looked up anxiously, their eyes locking in a knowing stare for it was nearly that time. Lizbeth moved to open the door slightly and as she peered through the tiny crack as her heart beated heavily in anticipation. It was the Laird Campbell, Cait's father who stood before her and just outside in the hallway.

  "The priest has just arrived and we will be able to begin shortly. Is Cait now ready?"

  Lizbeth smiled tentatively at the Laird Campbell, opening the door now wide for him to be admitted. When he had passed over the threshold, Lizbeth quietly closed the door behind him and effectively barred view from the great hall below.

  Lizbeth moved quickly over to Cait and took her hands within hers, knowing her time had now ended. She knew the next time she would be near, the ceremony would be complete and she would be her sister. Lizbeth held Cait close as she hugged her warmly.

  Lizbeth kissed Cait upon the cheek and released her hands. She stepped back looking at her deeply one last time and whispered to her sweetly, "I will leave you alone with your father and will see you shortly down in the great hall."

  Lizbeth walked from the room and closed the door quietly in her wake. For long moments, she stood with her back to the wall in the hallway, just outside of Cait's door as she wondered how she would make it through the next part of this day. How would she be able to be within her warrior's presence and for no one to know, no one to see the truth of her devastation written clearly upon her face?

  She closed her eyes as she took a deep breath praying her strength would not abandon her and not when she needed it the most. With a heavy sigh, she moved resolutely away from the doorway and down the hallway. Lizbeth was resolved to remain brave and to not break down, determined to be strong if for no one else, but for Cait.

  *****

  Lizbeth moved down the stairway quickly and into the great hall, keeping her eyes carefully averted and cast downward while not looking upon any of the chamber's many occupants. Once she quit the stairs, she moved quickly to the edge of the hall and over to her father's side.

  She gazed up hesitantly, ever so fearful of seeing her warrior and the vacant stare that would surely be within his eyes. Lizbeth knew with a certainty she could not bear to see that look again, especially if she were to stay within this hall and keep her emotions under control. Slowly, she gazed up towards the hearth, spying first the priest and then her brother Macay standing to his left with her brother Burk by his side.

  Lizbeth caught her brother Macay's eyes and smiled and nodded her head, a silent affirmation all was ready and well. She wanted to relay to him with her look he was fortunate for Lizbeth knew this woman well and could truly appreciate her kind and beautiful nature. She was compassionate and she was loving and had a beauty both inside and out. Lizbeth understood if he only gave her the opportunity, he would truly understand he had been blessed.

  A sudden hush came over the room as a movement was detected at the head of the stairs. Macay took his eyes from his sister and gazed upwards and in that direction. While it was clear two stood on the landing above, it was obvious he only had eyes for the one. A slight smile touched the corners of his lips and his pulse began to take on a quicker beat at the vision that stood before the full of the hall.

  Macay stared almost heatedly at the woman at the top of the stairs who was dressed in a dark green gown and one that fit her perfectly. Its shade enhanced the deep color of her hair and the green of her eyes. Her creamy ivory skin stretched enticingly down her slight neck and beautifully to the top of her full breasts as they shown enticingly above the bodice of her gown. His heart beat faster for the sight of her as he acknowledged his good fortune. For she was beautiful and this woman pleased him greatly.

  As the two stood before the priest saying their vows and speaking of duty and of devotion, Lizbeth timidly scanned the room around her in search of Blake. He was the warrior who had captured her own heart and the one who had made her truly feel both beautiful and like a woman for the first time.

  As her eyes passed over the hall's many occupants, she held her breath in search of him. In her moment of uncertainty, her eyes alighted upon him. On the other side of the chamber he stood, tall and ever so powerful with a hard line to his face. From the corner of her eye, she watched him longingly as he stood regally by, intently watching the pledges being made before them.

  Lizbeth could feel her heart begin to quicken at just the sight of him. She tried desperately to concentrate to ensure her emotions did not show upon her face for all to see, nor the tears fall that were surely threatening. She squeezed her hands tightly as she allowed her nails to bite sharply into her palms and concentrated upon the slight sting that it made. All the while, she attempted to elude the grave pain upon her heart.

  Lizbeth was brought back to the purpose of the gathering as she heard the priest state loudly, "…And I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride."

  Lizbeth held her breath as she watched intently ever hoping beyond all that was possible they would be happy. She saw her brother turn to Cait as a slight smile played upon his face. He brought his hand upward and placed it tenderly under her chin as he leaned in softly and claimed her lips. It was not a short kiss and from her proximity her heart skipped a beat as she realized it was lingering and there seemed to be a definite passion to it.

  When her brother released his wife, his eyes were shining and a softness had washed over his features. When Macay turned his new bride to the hall for all to see, a slight blush had appeared upon Cait's cheeks and a smile played softly across her face.

  Lizbeth's heart filled with gladness and the tears welled up in her eyes for the confirmation she had so hoped for was clear and obvious before all. She did not care as those tears slowly spilled over and the wetness trailed down her cheeks. For these tears were not for herself but for her new sister and her husband. By the looks upon their faces Lizbeth understood there was truly a hope this match would be a happy one.

  Lizbeth absently looked across the hall as a smile graced her lips. Her breath caught in her throat as her eyes found and l
ocked with Blake's. Her warrior. For long moments they stood as such as the activity around them began to intensify as people began to move freely about now the ceremony was concluded. She stood staring at him with a longing upon her face and a slight coolness upon his.

  And Lizbeth could not have been more miserable.

  *****

  The Laird Campbell spoke loudly and with conviction within his bedroom chamber in the darkening evening, his son and heir Blake the only one being in attendance.

  "And you will do your duty! The banns will be announced very soon and a new and strong alliance is to be formed. They are a very persuasive clan in the north and this union is needed for our survival. And you cannot go back on my word for the betrothal has been all but agreed upon."

  Blake pursed his lips as the anger consumed him for the understanding of the life known to be truly his. He had tried to reason with his father, begged him as he had never before, but to no avail. And now, the great man had spoken and his mind was decisively made up. Blake could only stare at his father for he knew there was nothing more he could say. His father had given his final word and his laird would never concede.

  With anguish upon his heart, Blake simply inclined his head in his own concession as he left his father's room, closing the door quietly behind him. He walked away in silence as his heart screamed of the great pain he felt within and for the desolation he knew now to be his.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The morning came much too soon. Just before dawn, Lizbeth left her room and moved down into the great chamber that was already lighted and full of activity. Clansmen from both sides were conversing together as others moved around with certain occupation. She moved slowly through the crowded room and over to her father's side, watching silently as he held his final council with his clansmen.