Abducted, Book 8 Read online

  When he arrived, he felt even worse. His eldest daughter, Leslie, was there with tears in her eyes and he hadn’t bothered to go to her cottage to comfort her. He set his clothing on the table, wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her dark hair. “Forgive me; I believe I have gone daft.”

  “As have I.” She pulled away and looked up into his eyes. “I am with child.”

  Truly delighted, he hugged her again. Of all his children, this one looked the most like her mother with dark hair and blue eyes. “Now there’s a spot of good news. Are you well?”

  She wiped the tears off her cheeks with her hand and stayed in his arms a while longer. “They tell me in about seven months, I will be.”

  Justin chuckled. “Come sit down, have you eaten?”

  “Aye, but it did not stay down long. Father, where can Paisley be? I fret over her so.”

  He pulled out a chair and let her sit down. “We all do. You are often with her, have you noticed strangers in the woods or any lad paying particular attention to her?”

  “I have seen nothing odd.” Justin looked even older than the day before and she noticed. “What can I do to help?”

  “You can see your brothers stay out from underfoot. I’ve not the restraint for them just now. And, you can come with me to the loch. I wish to bathe, but not if the lasses are still there.”

  She stood back up. “Most of the lasses are back, but I will go with you just in case some of them linger.”

  THE GRAHAM VILLAGE was close to the edge of the massive forest that covered most of southern Scotland. It looked much like many other villages, except for the excess of baskets stored in a large three-walled shelter to keep them out of the rain. They had other storehouses too, one to stock with food for winter and one that belonged to their Laird alone. The clan was composed of several hundred all, including the children, wearing matching colors, as was the custom in all clans.

  The Keep was only two stories, yet expansive enough to house half the clan should a harsh winter and not enough fuel for hearths force them to double up. The cottages surrounded the Keep, paths enabled prospective customers to enter the courtyard from any direction and a nearby loch supplied them with water.

  The baskets were hand crafted and made out of heather, an overabundant bush that grew wild. The people also made brooms, cloth sacks and of course, everything that could be made of leather.

  For leather, they needed a large herd of cattle and making use of the hides supplied them with plenty of fresh meat. The excess beef was dried and smoked, and bartered in the marketplace in exchange for fresh fruits and vegetables. Occasionally, a price that seemed excessive caused an argument, but Grahams were prepared and usually tossed the buyer out of the village on his ear. Yet the Grahams also had a soft spot in their hearts and normally let the buyer back in, slipped food to a child that looked hungry and often accepted worn out or useless goods from widows.

  The most popular items were weapons and leather sheaths. Laird Graham bartered for the weapons from another clan, but his clan made the sheaths and many thought the workmanship the finest in the world.

  More importantly, the Graham market was a splendid place to hear all the latest gossip, for which buyer and seller alike had an insatiable appetite.

  Over all this, Chisholm Graham was laird. His home was clean and well kept, but like his bedchamber, it desperately needed a woman’s touch. For that he had plenty of bartered tapestries and adornments in his storehouse for his bride to choose from, should he finally have a bride. He was nearly twenty-three and could have taken a wife earlier, but there was never enough time to go looking, and choosing one from his own clan, most lairds knew, was problematic at best. Women had a way of not showing the proper respect to one they grew up with and perhaps did not like.

  Besides, he wanted a wife who loved him the way his mother loved his father. Marriage was forever and life without love could be brutal. It was not until he laid eyes on Paisley at the MacGreagor feast that he knew it was fortunate he had not already taken a wife. Yet if the MacGreagors could not keep her safe, how was he to?

  It was of that he thought as he sat outside on an aging but comfortable trunk. He reasoned that if he managed to find and marry her, he would hold the biggest wedding feast in all of Scotland and let men get their fill of looking at her. Then they would know the most enchanting woman of all was his and his alone. Perhaps he would even invite the King and Queen.

  When he wasn’t thinking of her, he watched the people come and go and listened intently to the gossip. The rumor of Justin’s missing daughter and the unbelievable reward he offered for her return came to the Graham marketplace quickly. He had no idea Justin had that kind of wealth and it made his assortment of jewels seem like a pitiful offer in comparison. He wondered if Justin had a lot more wealth than he wanted anyone to know. Ransom, therefore, was not out of the question after all.

  On the other hand, was a gold chalice something an ordinary man would risk his life to get? Perhaps Chisholm had something of value to offer too, something the common man wanted even more than gold and jewels—something that would help feed his family and his clan.

  He quickly stood up, climbed on top of the chest and shouted, “Silence!”

  Normally on guard to keep the peace, his men stared at the Graham laird who had never done such a thing before. Realizing he was serious, they quieted the crowd.

  “Justin MacGreagor’s daughter is missing. To the lad who brings her to me, I will give four cows and a bull.” He could tell by the shock on their faces they considered it a fortune.

  Twice more that morning as new barterers arrived, Chisholm made the same announcement. When they heard it, two brothers in the back of the crowd exchanged looks. “Five head,” Adair MacDuff whispered to his brother, Ross.

  THE SILENCE WAS DEAFENING in the place Paisley now considered a stuffy and rotting castle. She was too high up to hear the villagers and she could detect no footsteps outside her door. Why anyone would intentionally live in a place like this was beyond her. The furnishings were indeed as grand as any she had ever seen, but the place smelled of mold. The dry season was upon them, the heat on the fourth floor was stifling and she wanted nothing more than to somehow climb down and run to the shade of the nearest tree. Even a breeze would help, but with only one window, a cross wind was impossible.

  Climbing down was an idea she constantly toyed with. She even wondered if a jump would break both of her legs. Perhaps she could tie the covers together, she thought, but when she examined them, the cloth looked worn through and unreliable. She would be better off jumping.

  For long moments, she stood at the window and scanned the countryside. Nearest to her were scant trees, a grassy yard and beyond that, tilled land in uneven squares of green, blue and yellow according to the crop. Farther away, she could see meadows, rolling hills and mountains the size of which she had never seen before. Another time, she would have loved sitting in the window just to look at them.

  There seemed to be few people, although she spotted one woman on a stool that morning milking a cow and squirting a share of milk into a waiting cat’s mouth. She kept watch and hoped the woman would glance her direction so she could wave a desperate wave for help. Alas, when she finished milking, the woman carried the bucket out of sight without as much as an upward tilt of her head.

  Paisley sighed and once more sat down at the table. She could not be certain, but she guessed her father was sending word of her abduction all over Scotland. It was with this in mind that she removed her scarf, unbraided her hair and pulled it around to the front to let it show the next time she went to the window. Maybe, just maybe someone might see her even if she could not see them. It was the first time ever she was glad to have such distinguishing hair.

  As soon as she heard someone begin to unlock her door, she quickly retied her scarf and was ready to pounce no matter who it was. The instant the door swung open, a rush of cool, refreshing air reached her. She basked in the fe
eling a moment more before she realized her guest was a boy of not more than five. “Thank you.”

  “For what,” the child asked.

  “For letting in the pleasant air. ‘Tis far too hot in here.” Her impulse was to run right over the child, find the stairs and flee for her life, but the little boy’s smile was overwhelming and her heart melted. A few moments with a child would make no difference, she decided, so she walked to him, knelt down and opened her arms. Instantly, he went into them and kissed her cheek.

  “Shall you be my mother, then?”

  Paisley got up, carried him to the bed and settled him in her lap. He left the door open and at least she could enjoy the breeze. “Where is your first mother?”

  “In the ground.”

  “I see.” She had never heard it put just that way and it surprised her, although with four younger brothers, it shouldn‘t have. “My mother is in the ground too.”

  “Are you sad?”

  “Very sad. Is Laird MacAlister your father?”

  He nodded. “Father is a very big lad and fierce when I am bad.”

  “My father is the same.”

  “I like you, shall you be my mother? Oh please say you will.”

  “I cannot promise. You see, I am lost and my father does not know where I am.”

  “Lost?”

  She had to do something soon before the open door was discovered. She decided to set the boy beside her on the bed and make a run for it, but it was too late for when she looked up, the figure of Laird MacAlister stood blocking the doorway. Paisley turned away and closed her eyes. “There now, that’s a good laddie. Best you go along so I may speak to your father.”

  In a blink, the child hopped down, skirted around his father and ran down the hallway to the stairs. She listened, and tried to count the sound of his shoes on the steps, but MacAlister’s voice interrupted her.

  “That was very kind of you.”

  She stood up and turned her glare on him. ‘Tis too hot up here! You promised no further harm would come to me, yet you let me bake like bread in a kiln.” Her ire did not seem to faze him at all.

  “Why did you not try to run?”

  “What do you intend to do with me? Do you hope to ransom me for some imaginary wealth?”

  He left the door wide open and walked to the window. “I would prefer you not take your scarf off while standing at the window.”

  His back to her, Paisley glanced at the open doorway and tried to guess if she could outrun him. Probably not, especially since she did not know which way to run. No doubt he had guards on the stairs prepared to capture her anyway. Perhaps the best answer was to let him gain some measure of trust in her.

  “Did you hear me?” he asked as he turned around to face her.

  “Aye.” It was the first time she took a really good look at him. His face was not an unpleasant one, his build was acceptable and his manner of speaking did not frighten her. Still, he was not Chisholm and it was of Chisholm she dreamed since the day she sat next to him at the feast. Indeed, MacAlister was nothing more than a corrupt, evil man with yellow hair and dull brown eyes. He was the one man she could never love.

  “We are to wed soon. Rona will come to help you change into MacAlister colors.”

  “I need to bathe, I smell of horse sweat, not to mention my own.”

  He looked down at the floor and considered how she managed to change the subject. It was an acquired trait and one he greatly admired. Paisley was as clever as he had heard. “As you can see, I have no need of your father’s wealth or that of any other man. You will marry me and you will be happy here.”

  “I will be happy when my father kills you and burns this rotting castle to the ground!”

  This time he narrowed his eyes, but just for a moment before he smiled. “He will never find you here and once we are married, it will be too late.”

  Paisley looked away. He was right; once she was married, even her father could not set it aside. Never had she felt so trapped. “I will not agree to marry you and the priest will not force me.”

  MacAlister walked straight to her and looked deep into her eyes. “I have seen your tender heart and you will do it for my son, if for no other reason. You will also do it to keep me from killing Rona.” The shock in her eyes was complete and he was certain his threat was well understood before he left her and walked to the door.

  “Can you not leave the door open? Post your guard if you must, but do not make me suffer the heat.” She watched him leave it open and heard him open the door to the room across the hall. The burst of cooler air rushed to her and she took a forgotten breath. Then she heard his footsteps on the stairs and counted them. Once it was quiet again, she walked to the window. Someone told him she let down her scarf, which meant there were few in his clan she could trust. If she could escape, though, which way was best to go?

  Quietly, she walked to the open door and peeked down the hall in both directions. Seeing no one, she scooted across, went into the bedchamber and hurried to the window opposite hers. There it was, finally, the forest she loved and beyond the forest, the people she loved.

  Paisley looked down, studied the courtyard and counted the number of cottages between the courtyard and the forest, and then quickly went back to her bedchamber before she was discovered. She sat on the bed and tried to think of a way to get down the stairs and out the door without being seen.

  Suddenly, she caught her breath. Was this the same MacAlister suspected of killing his wife and three daughters in a fit of rage?

  CHAPTER IV

  JUSTIN MIGHT HAVE THROWN the man out of the great hall had he not been the most influential man in Scotland, not counting the king. Laird Monro’s land was vast, his clan numbered in the thousands and he was not above burning a village down to get what he wanted.

  Justin and his advisors were trying to decide where to look for Paisley next when the whistles announced strangers. As soon as Laird Monro and his small army of men arrived in the glen, Justin rushed to his third floor bedchamber window to see if he could spot Paisley among them. There was a woman with them, but it was not his daughter and he was so disappointed his shoulders slumped.

  All day his men searched the woods, spied on the closest clans, including the Kennedys just in case, and returned with nothing to report. Their captive still wasn’t talking and it was all Justin could do to keep his temper under control. He was exhausted, worried, enraged and the last thing he needed was to entertain uninvited and unwanted guests.

  By the time he went back down stairs, Laird Monro and the woman were standing in front of Shaw and Ginnion in the great hall. The woman curtsied and he nodded his appreciation. She was not an unsightly woman, though a bit too thin. Her hair was a light yellow, her eyes were a gray-blue and her smile was pleasant.

  Laird Monro was the exact opposite. He was rotund, had red hair, breathed heavy and his voice boomed across the room. “She is my daughter, she needs a husband and I choose you!”

  Justin took a step back. “I have no want of a wife.”

  Laird Monro took a step closer. “Does she displease you?”

  Justin blinked twice and tried to choose his words as carefully as he could. “If I was in want of a wife, she would please me but I am not. And just now...”

  “Then you will want her later, MacGreagor. I know of your missing daughter and perhaps any other time, you might be good-natured. I intend to leave my daughter with you until I return and by then you will want her.”

  Justin began to rub his brow again, a habit he had only just begun the day before. “We will be pleased to see to her comforts, but...”

  “Good.” Laird Monro handed a heavy sack to Justin and started for the door. “If you bed her before marriage, I will kill you.” With that, he walked back out the door and slammed it behind him.

  His daughter jumped. Then she closed her eyes and bowed her head. She listened to her father shout orders and then heard the sound of horses as he and his army headed back dow
n the glen. Only then did she have the courage to raise her head again, but instead of anger, she saw compassion in Justin’s eyes. “I know not what to say.”

  “How have you heard of my missing daughter?”

  “We heard it on the paths.”

  “Good, then I am assured it is spreading.”

  “You will be happy to know we heard it not once but three times since yesterday noon.” She watched Shaw relieve Justin of her sack and continued, “I thank you for letting me abide with you for a time. God knows I can use a rest from my father’s unpleasantness.”

  He had not expected her honesty or her kind nature. It was as if she wanted to put him at ease. “Have you a name?”

  “I am Blanka and a forced marriage pleases me even less than it pleases you.” She walked to Shaw, took her sack and then stood back. “Have you an empty cottage?”

  Justin looked to Shaw first and then to Ginnion. Any other time, he would know the answer to that question, but he was not thinking clearly.

  “She must stay here,” Ginnion said.

  “Why?” Justin asked.

  “People talk and if Laird Monro thinks you have thrown her out...”

  Justin puffed his cheeks. “You are right, but the only place of privacy is Paisley’s bedchamber.”

  Shaw guessed the idea of was painful for his laird and took pity. “We will bring in a second bed and Paisley’s bed will stay in wait for her return. Do you agree?”

  Justin hesitated before he finally nodded. “Shaw, go get Leslie. She can settle Blanka and show her where to bathe. The water is warm and...” He stopped in mid-sentence. “Do you swim?”

  She finally smiled, “Only as often as I can.”

  “Then you will be happy here.”

  “Laird MacGreagor I know you need not have me to bother over at a time such as this. My father is often...well he often does not consider the troubles of others, only the desires of his own heart. Lately, he desires to be shed of me, it seems.” She did not mean to make the men pity her, but the words just came out that way.