Abducted, Book 8 Read online

  Sawney glanced back at the six guards. “They follow us.”

  “As well they should,” said Paisley, then she pointed at a dapple gray. “I believe I prefer that horse?”

  “Without a bridle? That, even I will not allow.” Sawney took her arm and guided her to the corral. He lifted a bridle off the fence and then whistled and soon, a mare with a brown coat and white markings started toward him. Sawney remembered to reach in a sack hanging on the fence and grab a handful of grain with which to reward the horse. He slipped the bit into its mouth, turned and lifted his sister up.

  “You have gotten stronger,” said Paisley, knowing that would make her brother proud.

  It was only then that the guards began to panic. “Where does she go?” one asked Sawney, a look of horror on his face.

  Paisley took the reins Sawney handed to her. “I go for a ride, are you with me?”

  “Your father will have my head if I let you go,” said the guard.

  “I go anyway and he will have your head if you do not protect me.”

  The guard looked down, “I am a dead lad.”

  Paisley smiled, “We will wait for you and we will not be gone long, but do not delay.” She watched the men race for their horses, smiled when Thomas mounted behind Blanka and her brother did the same behind her. Not long after, the six guards surrounded them and all of them rode out of the glen.

  THE PATH LEADING AWAY from MacGreagor land split once, twice and then three times on the way to the village of the Keith. At each crossroads, Justin and his three fully armed brothers-in-law kept right, rode up hills, down again and then across meadows. Fresh horses, the shorter, wider ones better suited for endurance than speed, enabled them to keep from resting often and when the sun was at its highest, the Keith hold came into view.

  Undaunted, the four MacGreagors rode the path through the wooden gates into the center of the village, halted and quickly dismounted. They drew their swords and faced all four directions.

  “Keith!” Justin shouted. When the door of the Keep did not open, he shouted again. “Keith, I call you out! Arm yourself! ”

  Laird Keith opened the door slowly and walked out. He was already armed and protected on all sides by his men. “Why do you call me out, MacGreagor?”

  “Your lad was seen leaving my daughter’s body in a meadow and I have come to kill him. If I must, I will fight you first.”

  Laird Keith stared at Justin’s sword for a moment before he looked into his stern eyes. “He was seen?”

  It was an admission. It was the wrong thing to say, and instead of stern eyes, Justin’s glare turned to rage. “I will have the lad...now!”

  Keith shifted his eyes and then turned to two of his men. “Find Blathan and bring him to me.” Instantly, the men took off running up the path to a cottage and before long, they were back, each holding one of Blathan’s arms.

  “This is the lad?” Justin asked.

  “Aye,” said Laird Keith, “Do with him as you will.”

  Justin turned to Shaw and nodded. “See to him.”

  In turn, Shaw glared at the two men until they released Blathan and backed away, but instead of striking Blathan dead as they expected, Shaw gave Blathan a hearty slap on the back and smiled. “Paisley wants you safe.”

  “Safe?” Laird Keith stammered. “He is the one who...”

  “Aye, and you are the one who ordered it,” said Justin.

  Keith raised his chin in defiance. “I did no such thing.”

  “My daughter speaks English.”

  He was caught, knew he was caught and tried to move behind one of his men. “She is alive?”

  “Draw your sword, Keith.” Justin demanded. He took a step closer just as Laird Keith tried to hide behind yet another man. Justin put the tip of his sword on the chest of the guard shielding Keith and motioned with his head for him to move aside.

  “Protect me, you are to protect me!” Keith whined. Nevertheless, none of Keith’s guards were willing to fight a giant and began to inch away.

  “Laird MacGreagor, might I be allowed to fight him?”

  The voice came from behind Justin and he glanced back to see who it was. When he spotted Blathan, he said, “You want to kill him?”

  Blathan walked forward until he stood not far from Justin. “I have wanted to kill him for years. He killed my father without just cause. I will give him the chance he did not give my father, but I will kill him.”

  Justin thought about that for a moment and noticed Blathan was without weapons. “To the lad who spared my daughter, I would grant most anything. Arm yourself and we will see that you are not put upon by his guards.” Blathan quickly ran back down the path to his cottage and disappeared inside.

  While Blathan was gone, Keith tried to move toward the door of his keep, but Ginnion went to stand in his way. With his legs apart and his arms folded, Ginnion’s glare was as fierce as Justin’s and he secretly hoped the man would attack him. He would like nothing better than to tear him apart with his bare hands.

  Blathan rushed back out the door of his cottage still tying his sword around his waist. Behind him, his wife covered her mouth with her hand and could do nothing but watch. Finally ready, Blathan faced a frightened Keith and pulled his weapon. He put both hands on the handle and prepared to strike.

  Striking swords clanked with each opposing strike and men began to shout, some for, but most against Laird Keith. It was a fair fight that lasted for several minutes, with each man suffering only a minor cut at first. Just when it looked like Laird Keith was about to prevail, Blathan got his second wind, swung his sword hard across Keith’s chest and made him double over. Then he drove his mighty weapon through Keith’s back into his heart.

  It was done and Justin was satisfied. He nodded to his men, got on his horse, turned it and started to ride away. Behind him he heard someone ask who the next Laird of the Keiths would be and several shouted, Blathan. Good, Justin thought, he is a fair man whom I shall call friend.

  Yet there was one more man he wished to confront before they went home. When they reached the place where the paths crossed, he turned his men toward MacAlister’s castle.

  THE PRIEST WAS INDEED at the Graham village and no one was more excited than Blanka and Thomas. Nevertheless, it was for Chisholm Paisley looked and when she did not see him, she let her brother help her down off the horse. Instantly she was surrounded by guards and it made her smile. Chisholm would certainly notice a woman surrounded by MacGreagor guards. Just to make certain, she took off her scarf. The clouds were beginning to cool the sweltering heat and although her hair was braided, she was certain to draw attention. Still, where was he?

  Paisley watched Thomas talk to the priest near one of the overly laden tables, noticed him giving over the proper donation and then watched him smile at his future bride. This was one wedding she intended to see firsthand and walked that direction. She need not have bothered, the priest urged both Blanka and Thomas to join him in front of the meadow and as soon as the band of MacGreagors arrived, the ceremony began.

  Chisholm could not believe his eyes. The crowd outside had quieted for some reason and he went to his second-floor window to see what it was. Then he saw her. He also saw Paisley glance at the others in the growing crowd and he was certain she was looking for him. He had only just finished bathing and was glad of that, but he took a moment to brush his hair and glance in a mirror to be certain his beard and mustache were clean. He hurried down the stairs to join the gathering crowd. He was not surprised that the people seemed more interested in seeing Paisley than witnessing the happy union.

  It was not until he made his way closer that he spotted the colors of Blanka’s plaid and rolled his eyes. From what Justin told him, Laird Monro was not going to be pleased, but that was someone else’s problem. His problem was to wedge his way between Paisley’s guards so he could stand next to her. Finally his mission was accomplished, and when she noticed him, her smile was glowing.

  This priest
was even more long winded than most and Paisley was glad when it was nearing the end. She did not realize how hard standing still would be after so much walking. At least Chisholm would let her lean against him if she needed and just when she was about to consider doing just that, the wedding was over. Thomas kissed his bride, the crowd cheered and he took his wife for a walk in the meadow where they could be alone.

  “You need to sit,” Chisholm said.

  “Aye, I am not yet well rested.”

  He dared not touch her in front of her guards, so he stood aside and indicated she should go to his home. Even so, one of the guards rushed on ahead, opened the door and looked inside the empty great hall before he would let Paisley enter.

  Paisley was a little chagrined, but she knew they feared what Justin would do if they lost her again and as she expected, they followed her inside. Chisholm’s home was pleasant, although it seriously lacked color and even the tall-backed chairs looked uncomfortable. When he pulled a chair away from the table, she was more than happy to sit down even if it was not the best of chairs. He poured a generous portion of water into a goblet, set it down in front of her and took a seat on the opposite side of the table.

  “There you are, sister,” Sawney said as he came in the door. “Have you seen all the goods on the tables? How is it we have never been here before?”

  She smiled. “How is it we have never been anywhere before? Father protects us too well, I have come to think.”

  Sawney glanced around, “For you, I doubt that will change anytime soon.” Then he smiled at Chisholm. “My sister tells me you are the one who found her. I thank you for that, since I am the one who lost her.”

  Paisley looked at Chisholm too, “I do not believe my brother will ever forgive himself.”

  “I quite understand,” said Chisholm.

  Sawney again looked at the blank walls. “Do you find it difficult to hang a tapestry or two? ‘Twould do the place no harm.”

  Paisley was horrified. “Sawney, you are being unkind. Perhaps Laird Graham does not have the means...”

  “I have tapestries aplenty,” Chisholm interrupted. “They are stored until the time is right.”

  “When will that be?” Sawney wanted to know.

  “When I have taken a wife. A wife who does the choosing, I have heard, is a much happier wife.” Chisholm thoughtfully stroked his beard for a moment. “Would you care to see them?”

  Paisley’s eyes lit up. “I would like it very much. Our tapestries are getting old and perhaps Father will barter for one or two, that is if your wife does not prefer them.”

  He smiled, “If I am fortunate enough to have the right wife, perhaps your father will have more tapestries than even he can hang.”

  His meaning was not lost on her and she blushed. This was the happiness she dreamed of and it seemed to be coming true sooner than she expected. When he stood, she stood as well, and after the guards made certain it was safe, she followed him out the door. She noticed Sawney was beside her and she would rather he was not. “You need not attend me so closely.”

  “I do not need it either, but I will have a look at these tapestries too.”

  There seemed no way to be shed of him, so she decided ignoring him was best. As soon as Chisholm opened the door to his personal store house, the guards once more went in to be certain it was safe. At last, she was let in and there was no mistaking the pride in Chisholm’s smile.

  “Some are old and not so very good,” he began, “but others...” he made his way between stacked trunks to the back, lifted a rolled up tapestry and began to spread it out on top of the trunks for her to see.

  It was a magnificent portrait of a Graham mother and her child against a light blue background. It was made of fine woolen threads that felt extraordinarily soft when Paisley ran her fingers over it. She looked up just in time to see how pleased he was with it. “‘Tis glorious.”

  “And this is but one. At last count, there were fifteen very good ones to choose from,” said Chisholm.

  “What is in the trunks,” asked Sawney.

  “Nothing of much value, but you are welcome to look. They are weapons no longer in use mostly.” He shoved the tapestry aside and opened the lid to the top trunk. When he did, particles of dust filled the air and it was obvious he had not opened that trunk in a while. “There are some very fine wood carvings in this one.”

  Sawney was excited to see each new piece and lifted one to show his sister, only to find the next equally as wonderful.

  The dust was getting to Paisley, so she moved back a little. Soon the man she loved was standing beside her and feeling his nearness was about to completely consume her. She wanted him to hold her again and make her feel safe the way he had before.

  Chisholm was struggling to contain his desires too. It was time to say something more, so he leaned down and whispered, “If you wish it so, you will be mistress of all this.”

  She slowly turned and stared at him. Is that what he thought she wanted—to be mistress over his belongings? She had forgotten to breathe until now and suddenly felt the need to fill her lungs. Only she feared she would soon explode, calmed herself and whispered back. “Tis not good enough.”

  Chisholm was completely taken aback and he did not bother to keep his voice low. “What is not good enough? Is it my home, do you desire a bigger keep? I am aware yours is...”

  Paisley rolled her eyes. “I came to thank you and thank you I have. Sawney, we are leaving.”

  Her brother was almost as shocked as Chisholm and when he turned, he let the trunk lid fall making an even larger puff of dust. By the time he looked, Paisley was already out the door with Chisholm right behind her. He would have liked staying longer, but something upset her and Sawney was well aware that when his sister had her mind set, there was no changing it. All he could do was hurry to catch up with her.

  “What is not good enough?” Chisholm watched her guards escort her back to the horses and tried again. “Tell me and I will make it better?” he shouted.

  She stopped and turned back to face him. “We are to have a feast in three days. Bring the MacDuff brothers... if you can tear yourself away from...“ She threw her hands up in defeat, “all this splendor.”

  Sawney lifted her up on the horse, mounted, waited for the guards to surround them and started to leave. Suddenly he halted his horse. “We have forgotten Blanka and Thomas.” He whistled, waited and before long, Thomas and Blanka came out of the trees and ran for their horse.

  At all this, a very confused Chisholm could only stare until the MacGreagors rode out of sight. “Splendor?” he mumbled. “First it is not good enough and then she calls it splendor?”

  CHAPTER XI

  PAISLEY COULD NOT BELIEVE it. He seemed to love her, but how dare he think he needed to tempt her with wealth? She wanted to scream or throw something. Unfortunately, her guards would get upset if she did. They were probably eager to get home before her father did and she could not blame them for that. Blanka and Thomas were now married and that was the purpose of their visit.

  Chisholm was not nearly as handsome as she thought he was at the feast. She could never marry a man who thought only of his wealth and not of love. In her anger, she invited him to their next feast, a welcome home just for her, and now she regretted it. She would be pleasant, she decided, but her smiles would not be for him. Instead, she would stay as far away from him as she could.

  “What about the dog?” Sawney asked. He had his arm around his sister’s waist, could feel her tension and decided he should try to calm her.

  “What dog?”

  Sawney smiled, “Did we not come to see a dog and the MacDuff brothers? I would have liked staying long enough to see the dog.”

  Paisley playfully smacked his arm, “Believe me when I say, if the dog were there, you would have seen him.”

  “Do you want to tell me what has upset you?”

  She closed her eyes and leaned back against him. “Nay, it will pass soon enough. Be
sides, we’ve enough to fret over. What are we to do when Laird Monro returns?”

  ALL THE WAY FROM THE Keith’s, Justin thought about how to get the MacAlisters to give up the man who hurt Paisley. With MacAlister dead, they might not have chosen a new laird yet and therefore, there would be no one with whom he could negotiate. He would rather just go home and let the nightmare be over with, but he had a reputation to uphold for the sake of his children and his clan. There was a price to pay for any man who hurt a MacGreagor, the time to have it over with was now, and he boldly rode up the path to do just that.

  The last person Rona wanted to see was Justin MacGreagor. This time, he came with only three warriors into the MacAlister courtyard, but she feared him just as much. She thought first about where to hide her nephew, decided the boy would probably not be harmed and then feared for her brother.

  “Bring me the lad who hurt my daughter!” Justin bellowed.

  Inside the castle, Rona trembled. Yet Justin had believed a lie before, perhaps he would again. She hurried down the last flight of stairs, pulled open both of the large wooden doors and stepped out. She was too late. Laird MacGreagor had already dismounted, drawn his sword and her brother was standing in front of him. Rona caught her breath.

  Justin glared at the man and then noticed he held a baby in each arm. His determination quickly turned to ire. “You dare hide behind wee ones?”

  “Nay,” said the man. “I dare hurt your daughter to keep MacAlister from killing mine.” His words hung in the air for a long moment before the man saw Justin lower his eyes. “I would do it again,” he muttered.

  Justin took a deep breath. “I would do the same.” Yet he did not put his sword away and instead began to look the people over. “What of the other lad?”

  “Gone,” Rona’s brother answered. “He returned in the night, took his belongings and rode away.”