Abducted, Book 8 Page 7

  Rona smiled. All along she felt something was amiss, but he always had the perfect answer to every question. She understood why he killed his wife and if he knew the whole truth, she’d not have lived as long as she did. The son and daughters he called his, could have been fathered by any number of men. Still, they were her loved ones and killing her nieces was the unforgivable deed. It was cruel, even for him and he could never explain it away with his lies, no matter what he said.

  Once her sister and nieces were gone from the castle, Rona was all the little boy had and it was for him she stayed. Not wanting him to see, she took the child to a cottage to play with another his age before she began preparing the morning meal. Soon the child would be fatherless too, but not quite yet. First, MacAlister would suffer.

  Nursing his morning tonic, MacAlister rarely had anything to say to the old man who sat at the other end of the table. Many times after he murdered his wife, he threw the old man out only to find him there again the next morning. It was to make him suffer for what he did, MacAlister believed, but he felt no remorse. Giving up finally, he learned to simply tolerate the old man, although it did slightly annoy him still. MacAlister watched Rona set the food in front of him. “I desire to eat with my bride this morning.”

  “You cannot.”

  He narrowed his eyes, but she expected it. “She is in the womanly way.”

  MacAlister quickly lowered his gaze. “Oh, I see.” It meant his plans for a speedy marriage would have to wait another week or so. “Have you fed her?”

  “Aye and I gave her a tonic for her pain. She is asleep, I believe.”

  “Take good care of her, I promised she would not suffer.”

  Rona nodded, set another bowl down in front of the blind man, guided his hand to the edge of it, and then started up the stairs. As she went up, one of the guards came down, holding his throbbing head. “I pray you slept well,” she said.

  He only grunted and once he was gone, she smiled. She climbed the last two staircases expecting to see more guards, but they must have left while she was in the kitchen. Her plan was working perfectly. When she reached the fourth floor and walked into the room Paisley had been kept in, she sat down at the small table and began to eat the meal she pretended to make for his captive bride.

  The food was cold, but she had eaten worse. MacAlister was not a patient man with people or food and was prone to quickly consume an entire meal. Therefore, Rona was not surprised when she heard his faint cry three floors down. First, his heart would begin to race, she knew, and then the leaves of the Nightshade would begin to paralyze him.

  Even when MacAlister began to shout, she continued eating her meal as if she had not a care in the world. Then she heard the huge front door creak open and slam shut, rushed out of the room and hurried down the stairs.

  Rona found MacAlister just as she expected. He was slumping on the table about to fall off with his eyelids drooping. At the other end of the table near the old man stood his second and third in command with their mouths open. They did not attempt to help their laird and that too she expected, for neither cared if he fell off the table or not. They were both good men, hated MacAlister and she did not fear either of them.

  “Have you done this, Rona?” one asked.

  She knew MacAlister could hear every word, but just in case, she moved closer to him. “He should not have lied to me.” Although his lids drooped, she saw a slight flicker in his eyes and it greatly pleased her.

  “Rona, the king will have you executed for this.”

  “‘Twill be an honorable death,” said she.

  The second in command grabbed the other man’s arm. “The king will never hear it from us. Let him die in bed with no mark on him.”

  “Aye,” said the first. “And let us live in peace.”

  “Is he dead?” asked the old man.

  Rona grinned, “Nay, I wanted him to know who betrayed him, but a little more poison should do him in.” She saw MacAlister struggle to move. “Fear me, do you? ‘Tis about time.” She grabbed his bowl and headed for the kitchen to make one more bite of porridge. This time, she added plenty of poison.

  By the time she went back into the great hall, the men were dragging MacAlister up to his third floor bedchamber. Thrilled with her freedom, she set the bowl on the table, threw back the dreadful window coverings and let in the fresh air and sunshine. MacAlister had plenty of excuses to keep it dark, but she suspected it was to keep him from seeing what he had done to his own father. The old man was hardly guilty of anything, but he happened upon MacAlister’s wife when she was undressed and for that, he was severely punished.

  “Tis a great day,” she muttered, touching the old man on the shoulder as she picked the bowl back up.

  “Aye,” was all he said.

  CHAPTER VI

  IT WASN’T THAT HARD to catch up with the MacDuff brothers after all. They kept to the well-worn path traveling east and their dog raced back to Chisholm often. Each time he got down off his horse, gave the dog a much deserved scratching behind the ears or under his chin to encourage him and then watched him run off again. For a time, Chisholm wondered if the brothers truly knew where Paisley was. Still, this was his only lead and at least now, he was doing something other than just sitting on the trunk waiting for gossip.

  At the junction of the paths, Chisholm halted his horse. The one to his left would take them to the river, the MacGreagors and the MacDuffs, while the one straight ahead led to other clans. Which did they take? He looked for fresh tracks in the dirt but there were several, and it was not until the dog came racing back that he knew the brothers had continued east. He found it comforting to know they were not headed home.

  Twice more the dog came back to be petted and twice more he ran off after the brothers. By the time the sun was high in the sky, Chisholm wondered if the brothers were wise enough to let their horses rest, but he began to hear voices and recognized them. He halted his horse, dismounted and tied the reins to a tree. The dog, he knew, would probably give him away, but he was willing to chance it just so he could hear better. He crept forward until he could stand behind two trees and see every move they made.

  Ross dumped water out of his flask and began to refill it in a creek. “She is probably already dead.”

  “Then she’ll not likely marry me,” said Adair.

  “She would not likely marry you alive or dead.”

  “Why not, I am the handsome one.”

  “Aye, but I am stronger and many a lass prefers the strong lads.”

  Adair finished filling his flask and pushed the stopper back in place. “I am younger. I will be as strong as you once I am grown. Then I will be handsome and strong.”

  Ross rolled his eyes. “She will prefer me.” He dug half a loaf of bread out of his sack, sat down and took a big bite.

  Behind a bush, Chisholm was tempted to force them to tell him where Paisley was, but he couldn’t be certain she was the woman they were talking about.

  “Father said we best not take a wife until we build another cottage. We cannot both stay under the same room with her, now can we?” said Adair. “The cottage is mine; therefore it is you who must build another.”

  Ross broke what remained of his bread in half and handed it to his brother. “Me? I do not know how to build a cottage.”

  “Aye, but you are the strong one, remember?”

  Just then, the dog appeared, leapt into Adair’s lap and nearly knocked him over. “There you are, Mutton.” He strained against the weight of the dog and plopped the last bite of bread in his mouth before the dog could get it.

  “Mutton,” Ross snickered. “Mutton is sheep, not dog, everyone knows that.”

  “Aye, but the dog likes to chase sheep. Mutton chases mutton, do you see?”

  Chisholm had to restrain himself to keep from laughing. He didn’t do it well enough and soon the dog stood next to him, wildly wagging its tail demanding attention. He quickly knelt down to pet him and looked back, but the bro
thers did not seem to care where the dog was.

  “The thing is,” Adair was saying, “how do we get her out.”

  “The place is clearly haunted,” said Ross.

  “Aye, by an old blind lad what caught us.”

  “And yelled for help. ‘Tis your fault, you did not watch where you were going and ran right into him.”

  “‘Twas dark, remember?” Adair shot back. “I nearly broke a leg. At least ‘twas me who thought to tell the laird about the bonnie lass so he would let us go. I saved us.”

  “Well I’m not going back in that castle. ‘Tis dark, ‘tis haunted and it smells.”

  “Not even to make Paisley MacGreagor your bride?”

  At last they said her name and Chisholm wondered why he had not thought of that before. Of course MacAlister took her, he was a greedy man who wanted only the best of everything and a fetching wife would be high on his list. Chisholm abruptly stood up and stepped out from behind the bush. “I will get her out and you will help me.”

  The brothers could not have been more shocked. Both instantly got to their feet and backed away until Ross almost fell over a bush. Then Adair mustered some measure of courage. “What will you give us to help you?”

  “Brother!” Ross said, shoving his brother away. “You cannot make demands.”

  “Did I not say four cows and one bull? ‘Tis yours when we bring her home,” answered Chisholm.

  Adair regained his balance and suspiciously glared at Chisholm. “You want her for yourself, am I right?”

  “I do, but I too must win her. You are the handsome one, he is the strong one and I am only a laird. I say we see which she will choose.” Both brothers nodded. It seemed being a laird did not impress the MacDuff brothers much and for a moment, Chisholm wondered if Paisley might think the same. After all, she was the daughter of a laird and knew all the disadvantages. He decided to worry about that later.

  They waited for the horses to rest while Chisholm ate his noon meal and played with the rambunctious dog. He tossed a stick away and the dog was more than happy to retrieve it repeatedly. “Tell me why you went inside MacAlister’s castle.” It was apparently the wrong question to ask. The brothers glared at each other as if to dare one to answer.

  “Well then,” Chisholm tried again, “How did you breach the castle? Were the doors not bolted?”

  “Not the small one in the back,” said Adair, “and as we are small lads.”

  “We are not small,” Ross argued.

  “Small enough to go through the door. I should like to see a MacGreagor fit it,” said Adair.

  About that Ross had no argument.

  “Was it at night that you entered?” asked Chisholm.

  Ross rolled his eyes, “Not until we got inside, the covers were all let down on the windows.”

  “We were hungry and...” Adair began.

  “You hoped to steal food, then?” asked Chisholm.

  Adair grinned. “A laird can afford it, we steal from...” Once more, Ross shoved his brother.

  “From me? Ah, so that is why my honey bread disappears. In the future, you may ask when you are hungry. The Graham will not deny you.”

  “I told you to ask,” Ross sneered.

  “You did not, when?”

  Chisholm was getting nowhere fast with this conversation. “Did you know Laird MacAlister killed his wife and daughters?”

  “Aye, ‘twas why we greatly feared him when he caught us,” Adair answered. “But we could not know he would take Paisley, we swear it.”

  “I believe you.”

  Ross snickered. “He took her right out from under Laird MacGreagor’s nose. MacAlister is daft.”

  “Aye,” agreed Adair, “Mean and daft!”

  They talked for a while longer but Chisholm was eager to get going. He decided the horses had rested long enough, the three of them mounted and started for the land of the MacAlister.

  PAISLEY AWOKE WITH a start. She must have fallen asleep and her first instinct was to look around for any kind of danger. Satisfied she was alone, she relaxed a little and got up. It was daytime, she could finally see much better and the birds chirping in the trees comforted her. It was then that she smelled smoke. At first she feared a forest fire but it had been days since rain, lightning or thunder graced the land of Scotland. It was another smell that made her sniff the air—the smell of hot cakes. Where there were hot cakes, there were men and where there were men, there was water. She brushed off the back of her plaid and began to creep toward the odor.

  Not but a few yards away, three men sat around a small fire making their noon meal. She hid behind a tree, peeked out and licked her lips.

  “Are you hungry, lass?”

  The voice of a man behind her made her jump nearly out of her skin. The man took hold of her by the arm and pulled her out into the open. “MacAlister sends a lass to spy on us.”

  The other three laughed. “Aye, and a bonny lass at that,” said one.

  “I’ll have her for my own,” said another. “I have want of a wife.”

  “I am already married,” Paisley scoffed. The lie hadn’t worked on MacAlister, but it might work on them. “And I am not a spy, I am lost.”

  The man holding her arm forced her to sit on the ground before he let go of her. “No doubt MacAlister told her to claim that if she got caught.”

  “I am not a MacAlister,” she demanded. “I am Paisley, second daughter of Laird Justin MacGreagor.”

  Again the men laughed. “A MacGreagor who wears the colors of the MacAlisters?” a man teased. “Does your husband know?”

  Paisley closed her eyes and hung her head.

  Blathan was Laird Keith’s second in command, sat closest to her and was beginning to take pity. He didn’t believe a word she said, but any woman in MacAlister’s clan deserved pity.

  When she lifted her eyes, Blathan’s smile seemed the most kind. He was a well-proportioned man for his height, with red hair and green eyes. “I thirst.”

  He untied his flask, pulled out the stopper and once he noticed the bruise under her chin, he helped her hold it to her mouth while she drank. When she finished, he tied the flask back around his waist. “Who hit you?”

  She answered before she realized how it would sound, “A MacAlister.” Again they laughed at her.

  “What did you do to deserve it, lass?” one asked.

  “I have done nothing wrong and I am not a MacAlister,” she demanded through gritted teeth, although it soon caused her considerable pain.

  “If not a spy, what then?” asked Blathan.

  “As I said, I am lost.”

  “How did you get lost?”

  “In this forest it is quite easy, I have discovered.”

  “That much is true.” Blathan picked up his bowl and let her have the last of his hot cake. He watched her gobble it down and for a moment, he almost believed her. But then, if she was a MacAlister spy, he could hardly let her go. “You shall go with us,” he said at last.

  She studied his eyes for a moment. He seemed harmless enough and she still had a dagger in case she needed it. “Do you not want to hear how I came to be lost?”

  “Nay!”

  That, she did not understand at all. The Scots were a curious people and why not let her tell them? “To where do you go?”

  “Home, we shall let our laird say what to do with you.” Blathan got up. “We shall hear no more of your lies.” The meal was over and it would be a while yet before he would see his wife and children. Before one of his unmarried men could claim Paisley, he announced she would ride with him. Claiming a woman was the same as betrothing her. There was just a slight possibility she was who she said she was and if so, he wanted no part of a war with the MacGreagors. A man who claimed a woman does not often want to give her back, even to a fearsome father like Justin MacGreagor.

  As soon as their things were gathered and the fire put out, Blathan mounted his horse, gave her his arm and helped her swing up behind him.

&
nbsp; It felt good to ride instead of walk. She did not completely trust these strangers, all of which had red hair and looked as if they were brothers, but if they truly took her to their laird, perhaps he would hear her story and see that she got home safely. Not only that, there would be women to help her bathe and get out of the hateful MacAlister colors. Paisley was willing to wear most anything not to smell like MacAlister’s castle any longer.

  JUST AS HE HAD WHEN he entered the Kennedy hold, Justin and his thirty men rode directly through the center of the Gunn village to the courtyard in front of the Keep. Just as it had been in the Kennedy village, the thunder of so many horses made Laird Gunn burst out of his door to see what was at hand. He was very old, no longer a brave man and as soon as he saw the size of the invaders, he was ready to surrender.

  Laird Gunn’s eyes bulged as he watched Justin swing down off his horse and draw his sword. From the door of several cottages, men and women rushed out and when the Gunns drew their swords, so did the MacGreagors.

  “Stowe your weapons, lads,” Shaw shouted. “We are not here to fight unless we must.” Both sides felt relieved, except Laird Gunn who openly shook at the sight of the much taller man holding a sword not two inches from his chest.

  “I have come for my daughter.” Justin was not as enraged as before but he was just as determined.

  “Who is your daughter?”

  “Paisley MacGreagor.”

  “The one with white hair? She is your daughter?”

  “The same, give her back and she best not be harmed.”

  Laird Gunn glanced down the row of MacGreagor warriors and briefly wondered where he might find such men. “If I had her, I would surely give her back. ‘Tis true, some of my lads need wives, but we do not so boldly take them and not one with white hair easily recognized. A man who did that would have to be daft...unless.”

  “Unless what?”

  “I have heard, if a lass boils the Autumn leaves of yellow and red, she can change her golden hair to red. I have never seen it done, but...”