Well, let him try!
“The next time, I won’t be so gentle. Remember that, Abigail, and consider yourself fortunate. Consider yourself forewarned.”
Hadn’t her father uttered a similar warning a couple of days ago?
“Because I’m in a generous mood, I’ll respond to your inquiry. I agreed to give him two of my estates on the border in exchange for the large dowry. The estates were costly to maintain. This marriage was an efficient arrangement. A negotiation, really.”
That was all she was, she thought somberly- a negotiation, a commodity, an instrument for contract.
The day’s light was fading. They were moving towards Lord Elliot’s old estate, one of the ones on the border that had been given to her father by virtue of her marriage. Her husband told her that he had chattels there that he wanted to retrieve.
Slow droplets were the beginning of a torrential assault as the sky growled in warning. Abby couldn’t help but think how fitting the storm was. The omen chilled her more than the rain did. The thought of consummating this farce of a marriage with this disgusting old man made her skin crawl.
How could she allow him near her?
They came to a halt when the guards shouted. The procession of horses, including the packhorses hauling her belongings, neighed nervously. She looked around but couldn’t see through the guards who had fanned out before them as a barrier.
“What is the issue?” Lord Elliot demanded.
She closed her eyes and silently cursed for tempting fate by foolishly declaring that her life couldn’t get any worse.
Apparently, it could.
Abby’s heart beat a frantic rhythm as the shouting continued.
Scots, several of them, surrounded their men. There must have been at least ten, wearing red, black, and blue plaid. They easily overpowered their small contingency. Odd, but she’d always envisioned Scotsmen taller. She’d never truly seen one despite having lived near the border the whole of her life.
“Dismount! All of ye!” the Scots leader commanded.
His accent lacked the typical burr.
“Lord, it’s the border MacPhersons,” Elliot said aghast.
Abby looked at him sharply. His tone lacked something.
Sincerity?
Or was it that it had something more that it shouldn’t, such as feigned surprise? Whatever it was, it didn’t sound genuine to her ears.
“Now!” the leader commanded again.
“Go on, Abigail,” Elliot prodded.
She gave him a sour look. What a coward, to force her down first. Dear Lord, maybe this was God’s way of granting her a reprieve. If she died, she wouldn’t have to live with the wretched man. That was all she’d prayed about since she found out about this mockery of a marriage.
The rain was unrelenting. By this time, Abigail’s light blue wedding gown was soaked through. Thunder clapped in succession, making her jump and flinch. Lightning terrified her, and the storm was not improving. With its cold rain and loud thunder, it caused her high anxiety.
Elliot and Percy stood behind Abigail. When they saw more clansmen wearing different plaids approach, they shared a curious look between themselves. The new Scots had on a muted green-brownish color.
“We just want the girl!” the leader of the first group shouted.
“Go to them!” Elliot shouted in fear at Abigail. He haphazardly put his hands on her shoulder blades and pushed her forward. Abby stumbled and nearly fell into the sludge. She looked back at Elliot with a look of disgust.
“Coward!”
The clansmen from the second group looked over to where Abby stood, and then looked back to the clansmen wearing the red plaid.
A battle cry sounded.
Every man rushed forward in a trifecta of fury. The first and second group of clansmen, and the English guards began fighting. Abby quickly moved to the side, away from the barbarians. The fight was violent, and she did not want to be near the frenzy.
Abby was sensitive to the cacophony of the battle. The men’s agonized screams echoed in her head as she slid back, away from them. She almost shouted out of fear, but when she thought she saw someone approaching, she slid further into the brush and kept quiet.
Bodies littered the ground but not one was of the green-garbed clan. Abby saw a bloodied knife near her and picked it up. It was just in time, too, for a member of the red-garbed clan appeared over her and grabbed her. He raised his knife in the air. Despite the rain blinding her, she screamed in a bid for courage and plunged her knife into his stomach, killing him. His blood squirted out at her.
One Scotsman in the green plaid looked over to her when she shrieked. He saw her kill the man who now lay dead on the ground. The Scotsman saw as she took the knife from the dead body, and retreat into the bushes with a crazed look on her face. She looked young to him, and freshly married by her dress.
The rain continued to drown them. Each group was fighting for a different cause. The English were defending Abby, Elliot, and Percy. The clansmen wearing the greenish-brown plaid were fighting the other clan because those Scots were wearing their plaid. The clansmen wearing red plaid were fighting because they had been given their orders.
Kill the girl.
Abby sat and watched the battle unfolding, crying to the point of hysteria over the atrocities she was witnessing. Splotches of red marred the pretty blue of her dress.
Dear Lord, what will happen to me?
The clansmen in green were far superior. They were besting all others. She heard a sound to her right and looked up.
Percy and Elliot loomed, looking down at her. She was shaking and soaked through to the bone. Percy grabbed her and made her stand up.
“Bitch! This was for you. You were supposed to die tonight!”
Percy brought his knife up to stab her when she let out an ear piercing scream and plunged the knife into his neck. Blood spurted all over her, mostly on her face and bodice. Percy stumbled backwards and fell dead. Elliot stood in silence, his eyes wide and teeth clenched. She saw his nostrils flare. He let out a loud growl, wound his fist back, and made contact with Abby’s face. She cried out and flew backwards. It took a few minutes to regain her senses, although truth be told, there was barely any left. Slowly, she stood up, dazed.
“Whore! I’m going to kill you!”
“Do not do this, Charles! We’re wed. He was going to kill me!”
“Aye, that was the intent behind all of this! I paid those men in the red plaid. They’re Englishmen wearing stolen MacPherson plaid. It is no secret the enmity that exists between that clan and your father. I wanted your dowry but not you. Debts and all, you know.”
By this time, the only men who stood alive were the clansmen garbed in green. The leader of the clan looked at Abby and Elliot, although he could not hear them.
“Look at you. ‘Tis your own blood you should have bathed in!” Elliot shouted.
She looked down and saw her blue dress largely splattered with crimson despite the rain’s attempt to wash it away. Abby raised her hand to wipe her forehead and it returned with more blood. Her shaking became more violent. An anguished scream bubbled in her throat and forced itself through her mouth.
Her shocked cry reverberated through the air, and echoed around them. She was beyond reason now, in a state of shock and hysteria. Her hands shook as the bloody water dripped from them.
“Now you’ll die, wife!”
Elliot lunged down for a knife. He seized her by her dress, and brought her close.
“Stop yelling!”
Elliot drew the knife back and over her, when he gasped and looked down. A sword’s point just barely protruded from his stomach. Elliot stumbled backwards and fell, unmoving.
Abby renewed her hysterical and anguished screams as she fell down on to her knees. She was the only survivor, other than the clansmen in green. She rocked herself, shaking uncontrollably.
The leader of the men stood before her but she didn’t notice him. Sinking down to h
is knees so that they were face to face, he doubted she realized she was screaming.
“Are ye all right?”
The rain forced him to practically yell.
She gave no response, but continued to scream while rocking back and forth.
He laid his right hand on her shoulder as his other hand lifted up her chin. Her glossy green eyes slowly focused on his face.
“What is yer name, lass?”
The leader’s serious gray eyes touched all points of her bloodied face as he studied her. His black hair was pulled behind his head. His thumb brushed over her swollen, cracked lips.
Abby’s screams stopped. Her head tilted to one side as she curiously stared at him. Her blond hair was plastered against her head by the onslaught of the unforgiving rain.
He pointed to himself and said, “My name is Cameron. What is yer name?”
Her green eyes narrowed more closely. At one time they must have been vibrant, he thought to himself. Now, they looked lifeless. A battle was no place for a woman. That notion rang truer the longer she vacantly stared at him. The rain continued to wash down their faces.
Cameron took out a small piece of red plaid that was hidden on his person, and with the edge, he began wiping her face. She saw the color and began to scream again, pulling back. He noticed and let go of the plaid. bringing her into his arms.
“It’s all right. We willna harm ye,” he said over the rain, rocking her gently.
Something within him knotted up at seeing her distressed state. He felt an odd connection to her. Cameron pulled back.
“My name is Cameron,” he said again, pointing to himself. The falling rain slowed to a light drizzle.
“What is yer name?”
Droplets were still beading on his face. Water ran down his mouth, and off his chin.
“A-Abby,” she replied awkwardly. It was as if she was surprised to hear her own voice.
She was in shock and said her name slowly, as if it was difficult to remember. She looked down at his hands as they tried to pry the knife out of her solid grip. She shook her head and sobbed. Her beseeching stare turned hard and hopeless. It was a purely animalistic stare. She wasn’t rational at the moment, he knew. He let her keep the knife and she looked away.
Cameron’s hand gently glided down the side of her head as she stared off into nothing. Her eyes slowly came back to his for a moment of surprise, and then returned to staring into nothing.
“English guards are coming this way, Cameron. We must leave,” one of his clansmen said.
Abby slowly rocked herself again, not noticing them anymore. He looked down at her, while shouting, “Are they her kinsmen?”
“One of the guards managed to escape when the battle began, and he rides with them. I’m guessing they willna harm her.”
Cameron nodded and tried to turn her face towards his. After failing the first two times, he was successful on his third attempt.
“Yer family’s guard is coming. Ye will be safe. I will remain beyond those bushes and make certain that ye will be well.” He paused for a moment, and repeated himself certain that she was not understanding anything of what he was saying.
“Ye will be safe.”
Her eyes were glossy and unfocused, as if she did not see him. He knew then that she was compromised of mind since she was unresponsive. He hoped that this incident would not permanently damage her mind.
He would never know how the lass would fare, however. He had to retreat with his men.
“Cameron, we must leave,” his clansman insisted.
Cameron ripped off a long piece of his green hunting plaid and gave it to her.
“Keep this. If ye feel threatened, wave it and I will return,” he said slowly. “D’ye understand?”
Cameron placed the piece of plaid in her hand and closed it.
“Cameron,” his man said in a warning tone.
Cameron passed his hand over the side of her face again and stood. “The lass is young for such horrors,” he said, looking down at her.
Abby continued to rock herself, clutching the bloodied knife to her chest in one hand and the piece of plaid in the other. Then she began humming.
Cameron and two of his clansmen hid in the bushes as the guards came forward. Though they witnessed what was before them, they were too far to hear what was being said.
“My Lord! Lady Abigail? Are you all right?” The leader looked over his shoulder when another yelled for his attention.
“Oh, Lord Elliot has been slain!” one guard said when he saw the body.
Abby continued to rock herself and hum.
“Lady Abigail?”
“She’s not well, sir. She is not responding,” another said.
“There was a massacre here.” The leader turned his head. “Look! MacPherson plaid. They’re responsible. They must have heard of milady’s marriage. We must return to Baron Haynsworth.”
The soldier tried to pry the knife from her bloodied hands and she began to scream.
“Leave it to her! Let her have it,” the leader said to the soldier. Abby quieted down as they let go of her hands. She began rocking herself and humming again. The leader bent down, picked her up, and carried her. Abby erupted in a fit of screams.
The clansmen held Cameron back. He looked over to them and they shook their heads. Cameron backed down, but the movement caught Abby’s eye. She turned her head towards him and when Abby saw him, she immediately stopped screaming. Recognition briefly dawned in her eyes.
“What is the matter with her?” one guard asked when she quieted.
“You need not comment upon it. We must bring her back to the holding quickly and ‘tis best without her screaming,” the leader said as he carried her.
Her eyes remained focused on Cameron. The leader handed her to another guard who was already mounted on a horse. Abby’s eyes remained trained on Cameron all the while, even when the horse began moving forward.
Her world had changed forever. As they faded into the quiet darkness, so did her mind.
Cameron saw her fall in a dead faint in the guard’s arms.
Chapter One
Dìleas Neart Castle, Scotland 1223
“Damn it!” Cameron cursed, slamming his hand against the table. He threw the missive down.
“What does it say, Cameron?” Keith, his first-in-command and brother, asked.
“Alexander. He is refusing my request. He insists that after having married Joan, Henry’s sister, he now wants to bestow the honor of marrying an English bride on to me.” His mouth twisted.
“He continues to want ye to marry an Englishwoman?” Aidan asked. He was the youngest brother, and second-in-command.
“Aye, that he does.” Cameron sighed heavily. “I have supported Alexander on many occasions. We aided him in his mission to quell the revolts after his accession and after he aided the English barons against King John. I remained loyal throughout that trying time. This clan remained loyal to him. That loyalty extended again when he ordered the hands and feet of men amputated after the death of Bishop Adam of Caithness.”
Alexander II began religious institutions throughout Scotland. He ordered the amputation of the hands and feet of those men who witnessed the death of Bishop Adam of Caithness.
Cameron paused and the muscle at his jaw throbbed.
“This directive, however, is unacceptable. I responded after the first missive and told him of my unwillingness to enter into such a distasteful marriage. He overruled my refusal and vehemently insists that I take an English bride. He’s selected her already.”
Many English barons grew rebellious when King John of England reneged on the promises he made after the signing of the Magna Carta in 1215. Alexander II of Scotland aided the rebellious English barons against King John. In 1216, Henry III of England, John’s son, became king at the age of nine. Regents have ruled and will continue to rule until Henry becomes of age. Alexander is married to his sister, Joan.
“What will ye do, Cameron?” Ke
ith asked.
“I will respect this order.” Cameron sighed and shook his head. “I have nay wish for a wife, but I am in need of an heir. I have supported Alexander many times and this will be no different. I will remain loyal to my king although I dread being forced to marry a cold Englishwoman."
“Do ye often think of her, Cameron?” Aidan asked.
“Who?” Cameron asked, knowing whom his brother was referring to but refusing to be baited.
“Ye know who, Cameron. That young girl that night on the borders years ago,” Keith said, smiling.
“Wipe that smile off yer face, or I will. That was one night many years ago. I doona think about her. Why should I?” Cameron said, knowing full just the opposite was true.
“He who protests so heartily has something to hide.”
Cameron snorted and pushed Keith.
“Who has he selected?” Aidan asked.
“He doesna mention her name. Although, what does it matter? One woman is like another. Alexander is resolute on solidifying peace with the English through a marriage. Mine. I am the fortunate one selected as repayment for my loyalty, Alexander said. I recognize his other motive, however. Being laird of the most powerful and strongest clan in Scotland has its benefits and disadvantages. This would be a disadvantage. My marriage to an Englishwoman would send a message to all.”
“Doona let Amy hear ye say that, Cameron.”
“What?”
“Women are nay all the same. She’ll give ye a good scolding,” Keith laughed, referring to his wife.
“She has ye wrapped around her finger, Keith.”
“I love my wife, Cameron. One woman is nay the same as another and hopefully one day ye’ll see that.” After a moment, Keith asked, “Gillyanne hasna conceived?”
A shadow briefly darkened Cameron’s silver eyes. The topic of children was a sore one for him. Despite the mistresses he’d kept, they had never conceived. He began believing himself incapable of siring a bairn.
Cameron wanted to be a father.
It was not solely to have an heir to continue his line, but a child to raise, to teach, and to watch grow.
He wanted a child to love.
The Highlander Who Loved Me (Heart of a Highlander Collection Book 4) Page 29