“Oh, Collin.” I whispered his name and knew it was he in the casket. With every breath my heart broke more. I had not known I cared so much, but the grief encompassing me surpassed even that which I had felt for my father. Instead of being mystified at it, I suffered under the worst kind of anguish, of a love forever lost. I pressed my hands to my chest, a feeble attempt against the physical ache crushing me.
“Please,” I begged at the doors once more. Release me from this.
Come.
Against my wishes I heeded the demand, facing the center of the room once more and
stumbling toward the dais. I stood before the box that held my Collin, then fell to my knees, laying my hands and face to the smooth wood as tears streamed down my cheeks.
Collin, the man I loved more than it seemed anyone ought or should or could love, was dead.
A terrible creaking came from within, shaking the casket, causing the candles to flicker. I stood and backed away as the lid crashed open. Inside I saw not Collin, but a woman who could only be my real mother— with a delicate and kind face and grey eyes that mirrored mine. She raised her arms, inviting me closer. Still crying, I climbed onto the platform, then leaned into her as she put her arms around me.
“It’s all right, my little lass. All will be well. Courage, Katie. I am with you now.”
I nodded into her shoulder but instead of softness and warmth felt only cold and the brittleness of bones long laid to rest. I fell backwards, screaming as her skeleton rose up, leering at me.
“Remember... all is not always as it seems.”
My eyes flew open and the face, those black holes where eyes ought to have been, vanished. No creature of the dead towered over me. Beneath me I felt only grass— not the cold stone floor of a castle. The only lights were those of the moon and stars overhead.
A dream? It had seemed far too real. My rapid heartbeat pounded in my ears, trying to banish the all-too-lifelike images. I brought a hand to my mouth to quiet my heavy breathing.
A man standing a few paces away whirled to face me. I dropped my hand to my chest, scrunched my eyes closed, and feigned sleep, though not before identifying him as a Campbell, the youngest one. Malcom, whose water pouch I had lost in the river.
What is he doing here?
I peeked through one eye, daring another look, and saw his back to me, arms crossed as he gazed about the camp. He gave a low, peculiar whistle, and somewhere, from the other side of the meadow, it was returned.
The night watch. That is all. I strove for calm. Never had I experienced a dream so real— so tangible. I’d seen my mother’s face. What did it mean? And even more disturbing, what of the casket I’d believed to be Collin’s? I turned my head and saw that he was indeed gone from his sleeping place.
The sense of dread returned. I needed to see him, to know he was well. The meadow that earlier had seemed so quaint and lovely now felt only dark and threatening. Malcom had wandered off, to another part of camp, and I did not want to be alone.
I sat up slowly, pushed my blanket aside, and began groping about for my shoes. I’d found the first when strained voices reached my ears.
“I’m doing you a favor.” Ian’s harsh whisper cut through the dark.
“Keep telling yourself that lie, Ian. All the way to your grave.”
Collin. I leaned my head back against the wheel in relief. He is all right. It was just a dream— a ghastly one.
“Won’t be my grave tonight,” Ian said. “But yours might be another matter.” The click of a pistol being cocked followed this threat. “Be a part of it, or get out of my way.”
The shoe slipped from my fingers as I rose up on my knees, peering around the back of the carriage. My heart jumped to my throat as I stared at Collin and Ian, facing one another in the clearing, Ian pointing a gun at Collin.
Collin held his hands out in supplication. “You know I can’t do either.” His voice sounded calm but insistent. “If you’ve any brains in that thick head of yours, you’ll see why. Start a war with the Campbells, and they’ll wipe out what little we’ve left. If you want the MacDonalds completely off the map of Scotland, this madness is the way.”
I glanced behind me, fervently wishing Malcom was still nearby. Had he seen them and signaled for help?
Hurry. The same whispering I’d heard in my dream spoke to me now. I felt a breeze against my back, once more urging me to move, prompting me.
I looked toward Collin again. His lips were pressed tight, and his gaze locked on Ian’s. Their profiles, silhouetted in the moonlight, were nearly identical, save for Ian’s long hair, rustling behind him with the breeze.
“Don’t do this, Ian,” Collin said. “Please.”
“I don’t want to kill you,” Ian said, though the evil in his tone led me to believe otherwise. “It’s them I’m wanting revenge on. And what more perfect way than to take away their chosen one, the prophetess who’s going to restore the Campbells to their former glory.”
What is he talking about? My peculiar dream rang fresh in my mind, but I dismissed it. I could not be the one they spoke of.
“You shouldn’t believe everything you hear,” Collin said. “Superstition. That’s all it is. She didn’t exactly predict we’d be met by an English patrol, did she?”
They were talking about me. I touched a trembling hand to the back of my head and the braids wound there as Collin’s earlier warning rang through my mind. It’s said the Campbell leaders know the future. There are those who would use such a gift for their own purposes. If Ian wanted me dead, then who were those others Collin spoke of? Who else believed I possessed such an ability?
“As for revenge,” Collin said. “Don’t confuse the Munros with the Campbells. I married to pay a debt,” Collin said. “I owe Liam Campbell my life.”
Hurry.
I stood, reaching up through the open carriage window. Bracing my hands on the frame, I placed one foot on the wheel and hoisted myself up, crawling carefully inside, fortunate the curtains were still closed, keeping me from view.
“Not to mention Katie’s dowry comes at a crucial time for us,” Collin continued.
I crouched on the floor, then reached beneath the seat cushion, attempting to pry it from the frame.
The cushion wouldn’t budge. There had to be a latch. I ran my fingers along the top of the frame, earning a sliver before I felt the well-concealed lever.
“As for the rumors—” Collin said.
The seat lifted. I thrust my hand inside and felt nothing. Collin had said there was a second latch somewhere that would separate the seat entirely and reveal an additional, hidden compartment.
“—she’s nothing but an ordinary woman.”
Who knows very little of secret panels and the weapons within. Precious seconds ticked by as my hands fumbled along the bottom of the seat, searching. At last I found a bar, nearly hidden within the hinge at the back. I pulled, and the cushioned top sprang up, revealing a half dozen pistols. My hand reached in and closed around cold steel. Please be loaded.
“An Englishwoman, and a Campbell,” Ian hissed. “You couldn’t have wed a lower form. Get rid of her and you’re free to do as you like, to have Mhairi warming your bed.”
I thrust the name from my mind. God willing, there would be time enough later to discuss that subject with Collin. But only if his brother didn’t kill him first. I parted the curtain and eased the pistol through the glassless window, then took aim at Ian’s hand.
“What I want ceased to matter years ago,” Collin said. “I did what I must.”
“As I do what I must.” Ian’s voice rang with finality.
Hurry! The trigger was slow to budge, though I held the gun in both hands.
Help me. I called upon whatever force had prompted me to act. The metal bit into my finger. I squeezed harder. A shot went off, ringing in my ears and sending me sprawling backward onto the carriage floor.
Alarmed at the strange sensation overtaking me, I looked to the old laird. “I feel—”
“Bound?” he suggested, even as he removed his hand covering ours. I wished to let go of his granddaughter and found I could not, as if some unseen force held us there.
“It is not I who has brought you together,” Laird Campbell said. “Not my hand that joins yours today and again in the future. A far greater power is at play here and intends to work through you both.”
In that moment he sounded and looked far more like a wizard, his grey beard touching his knees as he bent forward, close to us.
Chapter Fifteen
Jarring pain shot up my shoulder as my elbow smacked the edge of the open seat. I winced but clawed my way back to my knees to peer out the window.
Chaos reigned where only Ian and Collin had stood just seconds earlier. Campbells and MacDonalds alike had risen, alert and ready-to-battle. My eyes scanned the men, searching for Collin and not seeing him.
I took too long. Ian fired first.
“Coll—” The door opened, and a hand grasped me, interrupting my cry. I raised my arms, attempting to fight off my captor.
“Shh.” Malcom appeared in the doorway, a finger to his lips. I nodded, and he released me. I followed him from the carriage and crouched behind it, all the while my eyes searching through the dark for Collin.
“Come,” Malcom said.
“I’ve got to find Collin.”
“Hold your fire! Ian’s had an accident. It isn’t serious.” Collin’s voice carried across the clearing as I finally caught sight of him kneeling next to someone I guessed to be his brother.
“Thank goodness,” I whispered.
“It was not a Campbell,” Collin shouted at the approaching line of armed MacDonalds.
“Oh yes it was,” Malcom muttered. “Come on.” He grabbed my wrist. “We’ve got to get you out of here.”
“Put your weapons down!” Collin shouted, turning his head to and fro at both Campbells and MacDonalds, moving in to surround him on either side.
“Got to get you to safety. Laird’s orders,” Malcom said.
“Which laird?” Dragging Malcom with me, I crawled around on the grass, searching for my shoes. Collin had said nothing about fleeing to safety in the event of a fight. I’d been, in fact, right where he had instructed me to be— on the floor of the carriage, doing my best to stay out of the way.
“Campbell. MacDonald. Both,” Malcom sputtered. “I’m charged with your safety.”
“My shoes,” I pled as he pulled me to my feet and hauled me away from the carriage in the opposite direction from Collin, Ian, and the crowd gathering around them.
“They’ll bring ‘em later. Hurry.”
It was the same word I’d been hearing all night, and with the shouting and arguing going on behind me, I deemed it prudent to listen once more.
I shot Ian. It isn’t serious. My hands felt clammy, and I swayed on my feet a second. Malcom swore, then stopped and scooped me up, showing more strength than I’d imagined him to have as he dumped me over his shoulders like a sack of grain.
“I’ve never shot anyone before,” I said as we bounced along, my face at his back.
“Picked a good one to start with,” he muttered as he jogged past the bit of earth the Campbells had lain claim to for the night. It was deserted now, save for a bedroll or two scattered about the remnants of the earlier fire. Malcom was proving surprisingly strong for one who appeared so slight in stature. I supposed the urgency of the situation spurred him to greater strength. It caused me to feel like vomiting.
When we reached the horses he leaned forward, nearly dropping me. Though panting heavily, he did not stop to rest but with nimble fingers untethered the closest horse. “You ride in front,” he ordered, pulling me over to the animal.
“Ride where?” I attempted to step from his grasp, but Malcom tightened his grip on my arm.
“Away,” he whispered fiercely. “You don’t think you’ll be safe here, do you? As soon as they sort out the tussle they’ll realize who shot Ian. You’ve seen that the MacDonalds have no love for you, and now you’ve gone and shot the man who should be their rightful laird.”
“Who was about to kill his brother!”
“Ach.” Malcom clucked his tongue. “Most of the MacDonalds would have taken more kindly to that than to what you’ve done. It’s Ian they wish to follow.”
“Up,” Malcom ordered, hoisting me so that I had no choice but to mount if I did not want his hands on me. He pulled himself up next, grasped the reins, and we were off.
I looked over my shoulder, trying to tamp down the panic I felt at being separated from Collin. “Where are we going?”
“Away.” Malcom’s voice was terse.
The cool night air stung my cheeks. Gooseflesh sprang up along my arms, prickling from both cold and fear. What would happen to Collin? When would I see him again?
Once we were a distance from camp, Malcom ordered the horse to a full gallop. I jostled along in front of him, feeling more alone than I had since leaving home.
“Aren’t we far enough away now?” I asked.
Malcom didn’t answer but tightened his grip at my waist, as if he feared I might leap from the horse. I wasn’t that foolish, though my unease grew with each minute.
“Where are you taking me?” I demanded, twisting to look at him.
“To the Campbell holding— eventually. There’s a cave an hour or so from here that will do for shelter tonight.”
An hour. “Will Collin know to meet us there?” I didn’t want to be so far from him. Why hadn’t he told me of this plan to keep me safe?
Malcom shrugged. “Perhaps not, but he knows the way well enough to Campbell land.”
This brought little comfort, but there was nothing I could do, aside from risking Malcom’s ire with my repeated questions. I wished it was Collin seated behind me, or even Alistair. Why had they chosen the Campbell who seemed the least capable to protect me? Was it because the MacDonalds paid him little attention because of his youth and stature? When they realized that I had shot Ian and fled, would they even know with whom I’d gone?
The minutes rushed by like the cold air stinging my eyes. I lowered my head and closed them, then must have dozed, for suddenly Malcom was insisting that I wake and dismount. He jumped down before me, then lifted his hands to help me slide from the horse. We stood beneath the moon’s light at the mouth of a cave.
“Go on.” He nodded his head toward the cave. I’ll see to the horse.”
Still half asleep I stumbled my way inside, the palm of my hand feeling along the rough stone of the wall. It wasn’t a particularly deep cave that I could tell, perhaps twenty or thirty paces before the wall curved to what I believed and hoped to be the end. Behind me I could still hear Malcom and the horse. When I turned to look at them I couldn’t make out more than the barest shapes, shadowed in the faint light from the entrance. The tunnel must have curved more than I realized.
I slid to the floor, knees to my chest with my skirt pulled over them. Collin, I thought wearily. When would I see him again? What if he didn’t come for me at the Campbells’? What if it was he who paid the price for my actions tonight? He’d said Ian’s wound was not serious, but what if that wasn’t true? I’d not heard Ian’s voice again after I fired.
My eyes closed on these worrisome thoughts, and I welcomed sleep. Before it could entirely claim me I heard voices coming from outside.
“Go for Brann. Tell him I’ve got her and no one followed.”
The voice answered in thick brogue, and I could not make out the garbled words.
“I can’t take her farther and risk being caught in the daylight,” Malcom said. “We’ll be safer here. Brann should be at the pass already, so an hour or two at best and another two back here. That will see him here before morning.”
What time is it? This night had seemed forever already, between my conversation with Collin, the nightmare, and then shooting Ian. Our escape on horseback had to have taken some time as well.
Malcom did not re-en
ter the cave, staying near the entrance to stand guard, I guessed. I wondered which other Campbell he had been talking to, who Brann was and why he must come. The name felt familiar somehow, though I could not conjure a face or any memory to go with it. I guessed he must be another Campbell and would see us safely to my grandfather’s home.
It would be good to have another with us. Malcom did not exactly inspire confidence. Were we to meet with one or more angry MacDonalds, I feared the outcome would not be good. But perhaps this Brann would even the odds in our favor.
Or maybe Collin would come before then and I would not have to be escorted by Campbells. On that hopeful thought I again attempted sleep and then for the third time that night was woken abruptly. A heavy weight pressed on my chest, and hot, foul breath huffed in my face. I froze, imagining a bear or some other creature that resided in the cave.
“Malcom,” I cried.
“Right here.” It was his hot breath above me.
“What are you doing?” I made to push him off, but he clasped my hands together and held them tight.
“There now, Katie— that’s what your husband calls you, isn’t it? Don’t fight me, and this’ll be over in a minute.” His knee pressed between my legs, making his intentions clear. I screamed. His mouth crushed mine, cutting off my airway. I sank my teeth into his lip. He jerked back and flung me away.
My head hit the floor a second before Malcom’s hand struck my face. Tears sprang to my eyes, and shock silenced my screams, though I still struggled to get out from beneath him.
He clamped my hands together again, this time pinning them above my head on the cave floor. Once more I was surprised at his strength.
“We all know Collin’s not had you,” Malcom said. “Is this why? You’re too much for the MacDonald?”
I spit in his face, then fought harder as Malcom reached a hand down to lift my skirts.
“Why are you doing this,” I cried, changing tactics swiftly. “We are kin. I’m a Campbell, too.”
“Only part,” Malcom said. “English.” He spoke the word with loathing. “Brann intended to claim you as his in spite of that, but he’s not come, and it’s almost light. And if he’s unable, he’s offered a reward to any man who steals you from the MacDonald and ruins ye for him.”
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