April Holthaus - The MacKinnon Clan 01 (6 page)

“Who, who are ye?” she nervously asked.

“I am the Earl and Sherriff of Lancaster and I hope you do not have any ideas of escaping, my pretty one. If you cross me, I swear you will be punished before I get you back to Dumfries to be tried for your crimes.”

“And what crime would that be?” she defiantly questioned.

“Treason. We saw the group of barbarians enter your keep and we know that they support your Scottish rebellion. Any man, woman or child who does not give their pledge to King Edward will do so or die. And I, my lady get to be the fortunate one who serves out these punishments as I see fit.  Perhaps I should share you with my men or take you myself as my reward for my loyal services to the king.”

Bile rose in her throat. Her chest tightened and she felt as if she was unable to breathe. She sat up with all her strength and replied, “I will ne’er pledge to yer savage king.”

The Earl got up from the cot and walked over to her. He kneeled down and slapped her across her face with the back of his hand, making her fall back down to the floor. She raised her hand to her cheek feeling the burn and tears spilling down her face.

“You say that now, my dear, but you will learn your place just like your father. Know this Lady Annella of Dunstan; I am not known to be a man of leniency.

“What did ye do to my father, ye bastard?” Annella shouted.

The Earl snickered and walked out of the tent. Annella knew that her father had to be dead. If he truly was gone and most likely most of the villagers killed as well, who would come for her?
Rory
. Had he left for Stirling? Did he know what had befallen on Dunstan? She had so many questions and no answers for any of them.

Annella held back her tears. Grieving would have to wait. She knew what she must do now was to gather her strength and try to escape herself. She couldn’t depend on anyone to rescue her because she didn’t know who would come for her, or if they even knew where to find her. No, she had to do this on her own. If only she had her bow and then could pierce an arrow in that man’s chest.

She rolled herself over to the plate of food and ripped off a chunk of the cheese that did not have mold on it. She also took a bite into the stale bread and forced herself to swallow it even if it had tasted horrendous. She knew all she needed to do was to wait for the perfect time. After she finished off her ration of food she yelled out to the guard she saw standing outside of the tent.

“I need some privacy please.”

“I was instructed no’ to let ye leave, my lady.”

The guard was a Scot? Her eyebrows came together. Annella couldn’t believe that her own countrymen would act so treacherous. Why was he here helping them?

“Surely ye can no’ deny a lass some privacy. Please, I only need a moment.”

“Fine but any tricks or the Earl will cut us both down.”

The guard entered the tent and helped Annella to her feet. She was not able to stand without assistance as her muscles were starting to become too weak. The color plaid he wore looked familiar but Annella couldn’t place where she had seen it before. It was different than the ones she had seen the men wearing who attacked the castle. The guard checked her bindings and once satisfied, he walked her outside over to the nearest bush he could find.

It was dark outside and she noticed most of the men sleeping around the fire. She was surprised to see so few. She had expected an army. She knew that some of them would be in the woods on watch but with only a few behind to protect the Earl, they would be more vulnerable.

“I’ll no’ be releasing yer ropes, my lady, so do what ye need and be done wit it quickly.”

“Ye are Scottish, why are in alliance wit the English?”

“That is no’ yer concern. Now get on wit it.”

With her hands bound together, trying to lift up her skirt to relieve herself was nearly impossible, not to mention knowing that she had an audience. She did not want to complain or to struggle. Now was not the time. She looked through the trees towards freedom. If only her hands were not bound, she could have a chance but with the guard holding onto the rope with a firm hand, it was hopeless.

“I’m finished,” she said. The guard pulled onto the rope with force, pulling her to her feet which caused the ropes to dig more into her flesh. They walked in silence back towards the entrance of the tent.

“What are ye doing?” A man shouted to the guard. His voice sounded familiar to her.

“She said she needed some privacy. I took her out by the bushes,” the guard responded.

  “Good. I want to talk wit the lass. I dinna want anyone to disturb me. Do ye understand?”

“Aye, my laird.”

Annella turned around and looked directly into the dark eyes of Laird Stewart. He forcefully grabbed onto her upper right arm and helped her back into the tent.

“It was ye.” She shook her head in disbelief. “Ye are the one behind all of this? It was ye who brought the English and attacked my castle and killed my father?” she cried out and tried to pull away.

“Hush now, my bonny lass. Ye dinna want me to get angry,” Stewart said while pulling her tightly against him. Once he fastened the flap of the tent closed, he tossed her onto the cot.

“I dinna understand. Why?”

“Unlike yer foolish father, I gave my oath to Longshanks. In return, I got to keep my head and other benefits I might add. The only reason ye are no’ dead is because I convinced the Earl to no’ kill ye. The only way to protect yerself is by marrying me.”

“Nay, I will ne’er marry ye. I would rather die.”

“Well, yer wish may be granted soon enough. But ye will marry me. Whether ye are dead or no’ makes nay a difference to me. I will still claim yer holding as yer widow.”     

Unlike the calm, but ill-mannered man she had met before, Laird Stewart showed his true self as being brash, aggressive and downright sinister. She was thankful for not accepting his proposal when he first made an offer to her father. Fearful of what he may do, Annella yelled out for help but no one came to her aid. Laird Stewart quickly covered her mouth with his hand and with primal instinct, Annella bit down hard.

“Ye bitch,” he yelled and pulled his hand back. Once the pain went away, he raised it above his head and smacked her across her face causing her lip to bleed. He climbed on top of her, pinning her down with his weight. He forcefully held her head between his bony hands and pressed his lips to hers forcing her mouth to open. He reached down over her breast and began to painfully squeeze it and caress the rest of her body.

She cried out and struggled underneath him to get away but the weight of his body prevented her from moving. She sent up a silent prayer to the heavens asking God to make him stop.

“What is the meaning of this?” The Earl roared as he entered the tent.

Stewart quickly jumped off Annella and waited for the wrath of the Earl to come down upon him. He knew that his leverage would be cut short.

“My laird, I was just convincing the lass that she should pledge her allegiance to ye and King Edward or face the consequences.”

“Until her trial no one is to speak to her, is that understood?”

“Aye, my laird. However consider the matter of our betrothal. I had an agreement wit her father that we would be married in the spring. I was already offered her dowry,” Stewart explained as he pulled out a piece of paper from his inside pocket.

“Nay. He is lying. We are no’ betrothed,” Annella yelled and violently shook her head. The Earl ignored her pleas and looked at the document Stewart held out in his hands. Staring at the flap of the document, her stomach turned at the sight of her father’s seal.
Nay, it can nay be
.
He wouldnae have.
 

He replied to Stewart, “I see what you say is true. Then I shall grant your marriage to the lass. At Dumfries, she must stand before the court and pledge her allegiance to the King and afterwards the priest will give you your vows. She will be your responsibility. But know this, no traitor not even your little bride will be able to save herself from the noose if there is any sign of treachery.”

“Aye, my laird, I understand. She will take her place by my side. Thank ye, my laird.”

Stewart shook his hand and together they left the tent leaving Annella alone.

Annella laid on the cot curled up into a ball crying. She thought about the letter Stewart presented to the Earl. What was on it? Her father could not have possibly made arrangements for her marry to him, could he? She had never felt more abused, humiliated and alone in all her life. She didn’t care whether she lived or died but she would not marry Laird Stewart and she would not pledge to Longshanks.

She had slept a few hours before she was woken up by the guard. “Time to leave, my lady,” he said with compassion in his eyes.

He must have heard everything that had happened in the tent, she assumed. She sat up and allowed the guard to grab her ropes and assist her to the horses. It was daylight outside and the light stung her eyes. The left side of her face felt puffy from the bruise Stewart left upon her cheek. She was escorted onto Stewart’s horse and the group of them headed south. Throughout the ride, Stewart held her waist and pressed her into his groin. Every time she tried to struggle, he held on tighter around her waist.

Chapter 6

Rain fell with intensity for the first few days of Rory’s travel, making it difficult for both the men and the horses. He was fortunate that each night they were able to find shelter either in a cave or underneath the thick canopy of the dense forest.  During the day the fog was thick and hard to navigate through, and the heavy wind caused the raindrops to sting his face.

“My Laird, they were here. I can see signs that they must have set up camp here for a night. The ashes in the pit are cold but still fresh. They must have left a day or two ago,” Colin called over to Rory.

Damnation
. He missed them but knew he was on the right track. He worried for Annella’s safety. He had no idea, no sign if she still lived. Only that his heart told him that she was. He couldn’t explain it but knew she needed him and he was not about to let her down.

Rory had noticed that several footprints appeared in the dirt. At least two dozen were in the traveling party that held Annella. Rory had ridden with about a dozen men so the odds would be two to one. An easy victory for his warriors, he thought. Each Highlander himself could take on three at a time and not break a sweat. 

“We should break to set up camp here. It’s secure and away from the high road,” Ewan suggested.

Rory looked at him with resentment in his eyes. Ewan knew that Rory wanted to press forward but he knew the status of the men and the horses. Rory needed to make the decision of a warrior and not with his heart. Ewan saw it in his eyes that he cared for Annella, whether he wanted to admit it or not. It was not just guilt or duty that led him, it was love and he was going to make damn sure that he opened up Rory’s eyes and marry the lass.

“The men are tired and the horses need rest, my laird,” Ewan reminded him.

“Aye, ye are right, cousin. We shall have a short rest and then be on our way.”

Rory walked away both annoyed and displeased. He would have ridden nonstop if he could, but he knew it would not be wise to make this journey on his own. He walked over to Torran to bring him down to the river himself. He needed to be alone to think and devise a plan. His insides felt twisted. He felt helpless. Each passing moment was each moment Annella was in danger.

Sitting in the long grass Rory plucked one blade of grass at a time out of the ground and tossed it to the side, angered, and feeling that they were wasting time. He kept his attention fixed on his mission and duty. He began to think about the lessons his father had taught him about being a warrior. His father Duncan MacKinnon often spoke to him about honor, duty and the importance of not underestimating your opponent. 

“
Soon my son, ye will be laird of this clan; and ye will face many challenges. Ones that I have faith ye will overcome. Ye have grown into a strong warrior, one who will lead this clan into greatness and I have pride in me to call ye my son.”

Sitting on his father’s bed he had taken Rory’s hand, he placed it onto the jeweled hilt of his sword as he spoke his final words.

Remembering the days that followed his father’s death still made his chest feel tight with anguish. Rory looked down at his father’s sword strapped to his belt.

“Am I interrupting?” Ewan asked as he sat in the grass besides Rory.

“Nay,” Rory shook his head.

“Do ye remember when we were young lads and we would play in the woods pretending we were rescuing damsels in distress?” He smiled.

“Aye. I also remember ye always wanting to be the hero and made me yer servant,” Rory softly laughed.

“Aye. I almost forgot about that part. But I always was the better looking mon and the lasses always enjoy a mon with looks as fair as mine,” Ewan said in return being cocky.

“The lasses just swoon at the sight of ye. Must be yer plucky lips,” Rory teased.

“Ye are such an arse.”

“Is that how ye speak to yer laird now?” Rory raised one eyebrow.

“On the contrary, only in the company of others do I insult ye,” Ewan laughed out loud.

In front of the men, he would never dare call Rory by his Christian name other than address him as laird, but when they were alone he never forgot that Rory was still his cousin and the same lad he used to play with, taking sticks and using them as swords to fight off invisible bandits.

Giving him a more serious look he continued, “Ye love her.”

“What?”

“Lady Annella. Believe what ye will but the lass is real flesh and blood I tell ye and as bonny as they come. I’d take her meself if she was no’ already
spoken
for.”

Rory looked at him with a hint of jealousy. He did not want to think about Annella being with another man, especially not with his own cousin. “I do care for her, but love?”

“Aye, dinna be so foolish.”