It was no use; she was too confused to figure it out. All she knew for certain was which way he pointed. She turned and started down the path she hoped would take her closer to home.
JUSTIN AND HIS THIRTY men arrived not more than two hours after Chisholm left. By then, MacAlister’s body was in a box with six men carrying him toward the graveyard.
From his position in the trees, Justin caught his breath. He looked at Shaw, who only shrugged and then at Ginnion.
“We do not know who is in the burial box,” Ginnion tried, but he could tell Justin was not convinced.
“How many?” Justin asked, reluctantly turning his attention back to the village.
“Perhaps a hundred lads. ‘Tis a very small clan. I count less than thirty cottages on this side of the castle,” Shaw answered. “We cannot count the other side without showing ourselves.”
“I see no stables and no piles of hay. Where are MacAlister’s horses?”
Shaw raised an eyebrow. “If we are very fortunate, there are no more cottages and the livestock grazes on the other side of the castle.”
“Aye, if we are fortunate.” Justin stared at the castle windows. “Were I to take a lass, I would keep her on the top floor with guards outside her door.”
Ginnion nodded. “As would I. We could take all his people and demand a trade.”
“Take them how?”
“Surround the village,” Shaw answered. “If they try to fight, we will fight them, otherwise we will only keep them within.”
“And if he hurts Paisley? A daft man does not take a lass and then easily give her back.”
Ginnion, the commander of the warriors, thought hard about it and could not think of another way short of an all-out attack. An attack might also mean Paisley’s death if they did not get inside the castle in time, and he doubted they could. He rubbed the side of his face and tried to think of another way.
“Perhaps we three have only come for a friendly visit,” offered Justin. “MacAlister does not know us and will perhaps not suspect.”
Shaw shook his head, “He will know our colors and our size.”
Justin puffed his cheeks. “What then?” Neither of his men answered and he too was perplexed for a moment. “MacAlister will expect us to attack, unless he is completely witless, but he will not expect us to show ourselves in his courtyard. Perhaps we should simply go in and ask him if he has her. Once we are inside, we can search. Tell the lads to go to the top floor first.”
“Agreed,” Shaw said. He spread the word, followed his laird out of the forest and down the path.
The MacAlister clan was no different than the Kennedys and the Gunns. The sight of thirty-one heavily armed, very large men made them stop in their tracks afraid to move. There was one man, however, who instantly recognized the MacGreagor colors and slipped around the side of a cottage. He crouched down behind some bushes and hid.
Justin and his men ignored the people, rode into the courtyard and dismounted. Then Justin went to the door and gave it a mighty banging. When no one answered, he banged again. At last, the door opened, but the woman took one look at the size of the MacGreagors and tried to close it. Just in time, Shaw put a flat hand against the door and stopped the movement. As soon as he could feel no more resistance, he pushed the door wide open.
Rona quickly backed up. Her eyes were wide and her mouth had dropped open. She watched Justin’s thirty men spread out to search the castle and her eyes widened even more when Justin walked toward her.
“Where is my daughter?”
“Gone,” Rona managed to whisper.
“What?”
The giant’s voice was as loud as his knock and she greatly feared him. She nervously cleared her throat and tried again. “Made off.”
“When?”
“Last night,” the old man shouted. He was getting a little tired of answering all the questions, especially those concerning MacAlister’s captive. For hours, every member of the clan wanted to know, came to ask and he was weary of the telling.
“Where is MacAlister?”
The old man huffed, “Dead and soon buried, as he should be.” He felt Rona walk up behind his chair and put her hands on his shoulders.
Justin took a forgotten breath. At least Paisley was not in the burial box. His men came to report from the kitchen, each shaking their heads and when the last of them came down the stairs without his daughter, he was convinced she wasn’t there. “Where did she go?”
“Into the forest, would be my guess,” the old man answered.
“Did she have water and food?”
“Nay,” Rona admitted, “but I did give her my dagger.”
“Why should I believe you?” Justin demanded.
A little more emboldened now, Rona put her hands on her hips. “Why would we chance lying to you? You would only come back and kill us all. Your daughter is no doubt half way home by now.”
Justin was still not satisfied. “And the lad who took her from our glen? Where is he?”
For her brother’s sake, Rona would lie. “I know not who took her. She was brought in while I was fetching food for the laird’s dinner.”
“If you have lied to me, I will surely be back.”
There was nothing left to do but go into the forest and try to find her before she fell victim to another evil man, a wild boar, thirst or hunger. Justin turned and bolted back out the door. He was mounted and on his way up the village path by the time he shouted “Spread out.” For the first of many times, he pursed his lips and sounded the whistle he knew Paisley would recognize.
HER DECISION TO FOLLOW the edge of the forest was a good one for just when she needed water most, she found a shallow creek. She quickly knelt down, filled her hands with the cool, refreshing water and drank. Then she splashed her face and neck. It was time to rest but first, she stepped from rock to rock to get to the other side. The shade of the trees offered some measure of relief from the hot afternoon sun, but walking heightened her body heat and her exhaustion.
A large rock near the creek was the perfect place to sit and rest. Cautiously, she looked through the trees in every direction, decided she was safe and started to sit. Just then, something moved in the bushes and before she could draw her dagger, the biggest dog she had ever seen raced forward, jumped into her lap and knocked her backwards into the creek.
Paisley began to laugh. Not a second later, the rambunctious dog was on top of her trying his best to lick her face. “At last, a friend!” Distracted finally by something he spotted in the water, the dog started off down the stream into the open meadow.
She didn’t mind getting wet, in fact, it felt good and it was the closest thing to a bath she was probably going to get for a while. She sat up, languished in the feel of the water washing over her lap, washed her face and arms, and took another look at the scratches on her legs. Then she got up and waded out of the water.
The dog was back but this time she was prepared and said, “Sit,” and when the dog lay down and rolled over on his back instead, she giggled. There was no resisting him, so she leaned down and rubbed his belly. Instantly, his hind leg began to jerk his delight. As soon as she stopped, the dog was up and running again, only this time into the forest.
Seeing him disappear depressed her a little. “Dog, come back dog!” She waited but he did not come back. Paisley was alone again and it upset her. Once more she stepped out onto the path and looked around. Ginnion taught her to follow the creek to find people, but that meant walking in the meadow where MacAlister could see her. Soon she would lose the better daylight, so instead of resting, she decided she best keep going. There had to be people somewhere.
CHAPTER VIII
THE EVENING MEAL IN the MacGreagor great hall was a somber affair. Another night was upon them with no word of Paisley or Justin and the men.
The guards and hunters came as soon as they returned home to report to Carley’s husband, Moan, but they had very little to say. The hunters often met hunters or wa
rriors from other clans on the paths and there was nearly always some rumor to report. Save for the MacGreagors telling of Paisley’s abduction and the reward, the clans seemed to have no other news.
MacGreagor warriors found no trace of her in the woods after yet another search and felt they had combed every inch. Their captive was still not talking, nor was he being given food or water just as their laird commanded. The stable near the Keep, housed only the mounts belonging to Justin’s top men and was now void of horses. All the grain and possible food sources had been removed as had any wooden buckets with even a single drop of water. Still, the man refused to utter a word.
The long table in the Keep seemed empty with most all the men in the family gone. Justin’s sons, his sisters and enough children to fill any normal sized room ate their meal quietly. Blanka tried twice to start a happy conversation but her attempts fell flat.
The air was still too warm, everyone was exhausted and when Blanka walked outside, she was not surprised to find Thomas waiting for her. She went to him, leaned against the short stonewall he sat on and let the cool evening breeze blow against her face. Even Thomas did not seem to want to talk and she did not mind. Just being with him felt normal and comforting.
Half the usual number of guards stood in the glen and watched the trees, but most of the women and children had gone home and there were few to worry over. Blanka could feel Thomas look at her occasionally as though he wanted to say something, but he did not speak. Still, when she looked at him, he turned her way, gently moved a lock of loose hair away from her face and when she smiled, so did he.
CHISHOLM WAS BECOMING more worried by the moment. He called her name often, wove his horse around bushes and ferns and kept searching. The forest was growing dark again and he greatly feared for her. If she managed to survive one night, could she do it again? Several times he halted his horse just to listen or reconsider his choice of directions, but he heard nothing unusual and could not think of a better direction.
He missed her, he even loved her, he was determined to find her and he would keep looking if it took him an eternity.
JUSTIN WAS JUST AS frustrated. His men fanned out as soon as they entered the forest with Ginnion on one end of the fan and Shaw on the other. They had become a moving semicircle, looking around every tree and behind every bush trying to find her. Yet the whistle he longed to hear in return did not come and soon they would need to stop and rest the horses before they killed them.
To Justin, Paisley was still that little girl who loved to hug his neck or curl up in his lap when she was tired. It was something he allowed all his children to do, even in the great hall when he was busy. It wasn’t much, but the demands of the clan offered too little time to let his children feel his love otherwise. Now the most loving child of all was lost somewhere in a forest and he could not find her. His rage had turned to fear for her and after hours of looking, his heart began to hurt.
SUDDENLY, CHISHOLM saw movement in the bushes up ahead. He swung down off his horse, drew his weapon, prepared himself to fight and waited. He didn’t have to wait long; Mutton stuck his head out from behind the bush. Only this time, he did not try to jump up on Chisholm or give his normal overwhelming greeting. Instead, the dog stopped, looked at him and barked.
“What?” Chisholm asked.
The dog swiftly turned around and started off, but then he stopped again and when Chisholm was not following, he went back. Again he barked, and when that didn’t work, he showed his teeth and growled.
“What is the matter with you?” He watched the dog turn his head to one side. “Are the brothers hurt?” He didn’t want to give up the search for Paisley, but the dog obviously wanted him to follow. Perhaps this would not take too long and then he could set out again. He put his weapon away and got back on his horse.
PAISLEY COULDN’T REMEMBER a time when she needed food and sleep more. She realized she had not rested for very long beside the creek and each step was beginning to feel like there were weights on her feet. Still there was no sign of human existence anywhere, not a cow, a horse or even a lost sheep.
“MacAlister probably scared even the animals away.” She did not realize she was talking to herself and did not care.
The setting of the sun would soon surround her with the dimmer light and she regretted it. The heat of the day dried her clothing, which she also regretted since they were cooler wet, but the one thing that annoyed her most was the scarf on her head. It kept trying to slide back and at last, she stopped, untied it, pulled it off and released her long hair. Then she looked for a way to carry it so her hands would still be free. She thought to tie it around her waist, but that would make drawing her dagger quickly less possible. She could tie it around her neck, she decided. She wrapped it around, pulled her hair out and was starting to tie it in front when she looked up.
Just beyond the trees sat a man on a horse with a dog sitting quietly beside him. She had not heard a thing, gasped and was about to turn and run when she saw his necklace. Slowly, she raised her gaze, looked at his face, covered her mouth and started to cry.
Chisholm walked his horse up beside her, bent down, waited for her to wrap her arms around his neck and then lifted her into his lap. She didn’t quickly let go and he didn’t want her to. When she did, she wrapped her arms around his torso, laid her head against his chest and began to sob. Never in his life had he felt anything as magnificent as having the woman he loved safe in his arms. For a long time he just held her tight and stroked the back of her hair.
“MacAlister is dead,” he whispered.
It was all she could do to nod.
He let her cry a little while longer and then decided her tears might never stop if he did not distract her. “I am so happy to see you, are you hurt?”
She pulled away just enough to lift her head and point at the bruise under her chin, and then she went back into the comfort of his arms.
“Did someone do this?” Her nod made him furious, but he set that aside for later. “You are safe now.”
“I was so very frightened,” she managed to whisper.
“I know, but you need not be frightened any longer.”
At length, she took a deep breath and tried to stop crying. When he handed her his cloth, she let go, sat up straight and wiped the tears away. “I need a bath.”
It made him smile, but letting her bathe was the last thing on his mind. “Are you hungry?”
She quickly nodded. “It has been a long time since my last meal.”
“I brought cheese, bread and apples. Which would you like first?”
“All of them.”
Chisholm chuckled. “All I have is yours.”
“Wait, ‘tis hard to chew. Can you cut small pieces?”
“I can and I will let you down if you promise not to try to run off.”
She wiped the last of her tears away and rolled her eyes. “I wish to never be alone in the forest again.” She took hold of his arm and slid down off the horse. An instant later, the dog was about to pounce again, but Chisholm dismounted just in time to stop him.
“This is, Mutton,” he said, beginning to untie the strings of his food sack.
She was incredulous. “You named your dog, Mutton?”
“Not I, ‘tis the MacDuff brothers who named him.”
Paisley grinned, “That, I can believe. Mutton knocked me into the creek earlier.”
“You know the MacDuff brothers, Adair and Ross?”
“They are constantly watching us from the trees in the glen, but they are harmless and we pay them no mind.”
“Mutton helped me find you.”
She reached down with both hands and started rubbing the dog behind his ears, “Then he is the best dog in all the world and I shall remember to thank the MacDuff brothers when I am home.”
“Sit down, Paisley, you are tired.”
“I confess I am. She looked around for a place to sit, found a tree stump and gladly took the weight off her feet.
/> Chisholm reached into his sack, pulled out the cheese, folded the cloth back and pulled his dagger. He cut a thin slice and handed it to her. “Who hit you?”
“I do not know his name.” Eagerly, she broke off a small bite, put it in her mouth and savored the taste as it melted and softened.”
Sitting quietly as he was told, the dog ignored the horse as it wandered into the meadow to graze, looked at her and then at Chisholm. Again he looked at Paisley, but neither seemed interested in tossing a morsel his way.
“I would like a word with the lad who took you,” said Chisholm.
“My father will kill him.”
“Not if I kill him first.”
Paisley stopped eating and looked up at him. “I wish to go home; can you not put off the killing until later?” Then she suddenly remembered, “Sawney?”
“He is fine. A small cut on his neck, but it will heal.”
She drew in a deep breath and truly relaxed for the first time in two days. “Who killed MacAlister?”
“A lass said she did. I believe she is the one who helped you escape.”
“Rona is alive then. MacAlister threatened to kill her if I did not obey.”
Realizing he was not going to get fed, the dog finally raced off to find his own meal.
“Just as I arrived, MacAlister came flying out a window.” He watched Paisley’s eyes light up and continued. “A lass in the crowd said he had the look of someone poisoned.”
“Poison, how clever of Rona.” She took the next slice of cheese he handed her and began to break it into small bites as well. Then she watched him put the cheese away, produce a loaf of bread and break off part.
“Paisley, was there nothing odd about the lad who took you? A scar perhaps or...”
She quickly swallowed. “There were two of them.”
“Aye, Sawney overtook one, but the lad would not tell us who the other one was. He only said he was forced to do it or his family would die.”
Abducted, Book 8 Page 10