April Holthaus - The MacKinnon Clan 01 (7 page)

Rory didn’t respond. Instead he thought about what his cousin had said. Is that what made him sweat every time he was near her? What made him purposely seek her out just to see her beautiful smile? Perhaps Ewan’s assumption was right. Rory was starting to fall for her. He yearned to hold her again in his arms, to kiss her and claim her as his because…he loved her.

Ewan continued to look at him but said nothing. He could see the internal struggle Rory was having with himself. It made him happy to see that the thoughts inside his head were turning and hoped that he had somehow helped Rory realize that he did indeed love the lass.

“Let’s go see how the men are doing wit the tents and food.”

“Aye,” Rory sat up from the grass and walked over to Torran to tie him up for the night.

With only enough food to barely sustain life, Annella’s stomach growled with intensity. Her denial to marry Laird Stewart and her refusal to give the Earl her oath to Edward had cost her a good beating and a cold cell in the dungeon. She had no idea where she was and knew that no one was coming for her. Annella’s hope was lost as she knew that her life would soon be cut short. Either she would be hung in the gallows tomorrow or the dirt packed ground of her cell would become her deathbed.

The bruises on her face caused her pain when she would try to open her eyes and her throat was so parched that it burned when she would try to speak. Sears of pain below her chest ached from where Stewart had aggressively kicked her after she refused him.

The dungeon had no light coming in and was cold and wet. The rain water had seeped into the walls and dampened the floor. She could hear the faint sound of mice scurrying about and droplets of water lightly thumping on the ground.

Her gown had been stripped off her body and only her ripped chemise remained. The thin fabric did not provide much warmth and she felt the coldness in her chest creeping in. She accepted her fate.

With her arms tightly wrapped around her body she said a prayer that the angels would come for her this night. She spoke of all of the things she was thankful for and for the kindness and love she was given. In her mind, she was instantly brought back to the moment on the hillside when Rory had kissed her. Kissing Rory had been the greatest things she had ever experienced. With her eyes closed, she recalled how she felt in his arms. Her body tingled as a slight warm tingle shivered down her spine. What she would give now to see him again, to tell him how she felt. To tell him that she did love him, wholeheartedly. She felt like such a fool.

“Pick her up. And this time dinna ruin her face,” Stewart roared at the two guards outside the gates.

The two men entered through the cell door and lifted Annella into the air. Thrusting open the door to the outside, Annella’s eyes were forced closed from the sting of the bright light. She had spent two days in the darkness. They carried her inside the large castle and up the stairs to the tower room. Stewart watched as she was tossed onto the bed.

              “The priest will be here within the hour. A maid is here to help ye wash. If ye defy me again, lass, ye will get more than a good whipping,” Stewart snarled and walked away barring the door behind him.

Annella laid on the bed, too sore to move. A young shy blond girl about sixteen years of age entered with an empty basin and a pitcher of water.

Quietly she held the water to her lips and Annella greedily accepted. She poured some water into the basin and dipped a cloth into the water. The maid gently dabbed the cloth onto Annella’s face to wash off the dirt and blood.

“Thank ye,” Annella whispered in a hoarse voice.

“Ye are welcome. My name is Caitlin. Ye really should no’ anger Laird Stewart, my lady. He is a nasty mon.”

“Where am I?”

“Ye are at Caerlaverock Castle near Dumfries,” she answered.

Annella examined the girl and saw bruises along her arms. “Did he do that to ye?”

The young girl looked at her arms and pulled down the sleeves of her dress to cover them. Annella saw the shame in her eyes as she looked away. The two women remained quiet while Caitlin continued to wipe her down.

“My Laird, we should be past Campbell lands and be in Buchannan’s territory now, we are no’ too far from the lowlands. Should we be looking to set up camp?”

“Nay, we will ride a wee longer. I know of a monastery on Buchannan land we can stop at and replenish our supplies and rest the horses.”

Rory was familiar with the monastery at Buchannan. Father Gregory used to minister at Dunakin Castle when his father was alive. After his passing, he left to minister to another nearby clan before making his way to Buchannan. Father Gregory was like a second father to Rory and his brother Bram. Often than not, Rory was with him in the church serving out one of his many penance due to his wild and disobedient nature as a young lad. 

By the time they reached the monastery, the sun had already begun to set and the rain had finally ceased. He scaled down off Torran’s saddle and gave the reins to Angus to bring him to the creek with the rest of the horses.   

Rory grabbed his bag and headed inside to greet Father Gregory. Buchannan Abbey was a small monastery. The thin slits for windows offered little light and did not provide much draft to freshen the stale smell of the rooms. The floors were covered with old rushes and small particles of dust floated around inside the chapel.

Father Gregory and the rest of the monks who inhabited the monastery lived off simple means. Eating only meager meals themselves, they offered whatever they could to fellow Scots in need. With the English burning villages and battles breaking out across the lowlands, many Scots were left helpless and homeless.

“Laird MacKinnon, it is good to see ye again, my young friend,” Father Gregory said with an extended hand. It had been some time since Rory had last seen him. The man now standing before him looked shorter. His hair had turned from grey to white and his beard was now a foot long. His garb robes were brown and matted and his hands were showing signs of aging as well. No longer steady but shaky and bony.

“Father, it is good to see ye as well.” Rory firmly shook his hand and offered him a brief embrace.

“Why have ye traveled so far? Last I heard ye were on yer way to join Wallace.”

“Aye, we stopped at Dunstan castle for a few nights to gather more men. However there was an attack upon their lands and their laird Hamish MacCallum has been killed. They took his daughter Lady Annella and we are going after them. It is my fault that this had happened, Father, so it is only right for me to be the one to rescue her. Have ye heard any word on the English passing through?”

“Aye. Word has it that they passed through here several days ago heading to Dumfries. But it is no’ just the Englishmen ye seek. The clan Stewart has joined them.”

“Stewart?” Rory thought about the name for a moment then realized that Stewart was the name Annella mentioned that her father was forcing her to marry. Rory walked with him around the gardens that surrounded the monastery retelling him all that had happened. “We ask to stay the night then must make our way when dawn breaks.”

“Aye, of course. There are no’ rooms for all of ye but plenty of dry hay in the stables to make enough pallets for the lot of ye.”

“Thank ye. That will suffice.”

“I hope ye dinna plan on doing anything foolish, lad. These be dangerous men.”

“I ken. But I have to go.”

Mercifully, he looked up at Rory with his grey eyes and smiled. “Ye just remember this; ye will face the darkness before ye are shown the light.”

Rory nodded his acknowledgement towards the old man and walked back to the stables. He found his horse and pulled out dry trews and a fresh
leine
shirt from his satchel to change out of his wet clothes. Taking out his plaid he laid it down upon the dry hay to rest his sore muscles. Each time he closed his eyes, he saw Annella; her reddish brown hair and her remarkable large, round eyes. He knew rescuing Annella not going to be an easy task but she was worth it, in every way.  

Sneaking into Dumfries when the English had already seized the castle was going to make this much more difficult. He would have to slip into the village undetected and keep his identity concealed to find out exactly which side the Laird of Dumfries was on; whether he is a traitor to his country or if he too is being held captive. Dumfries was a large trading community. Several people would be coming and going so he knew that getting in wouldn’t be a challenge. It would be getting out.

Rory prayed for Annella’s safety and that no harm has come to her. He would not let Laird Stewart live if he had harmed Annella in any way.

With battle on the horizon, he realized he had a new reason to fight, a purpose. Over the past few days, Annella had become his flame in the darkness. He missed how her smile could brighten even the darkest of days. After meeting her, he had never felt so alone. But he was, because he realized that what was missing in his life was her.

Chapter 7

Annella and Caitlin both turned their heads toward the door when they heard the sounds of multiple footsteps coming up the tower stairs.

“I am so sorry, my lady,” Caitlin said as she held her hand.

Crashing the door open, Laird Stewart and the English priest entered the room.

“Nay, nay,” Annella pleaded.

“Leave us,” Stewart barked his order to Caitlin.

Caitlin gave Annella a sad look and hurried out the door.

“Lady Annella MacCallum of Dunstan, ye have been charged of treason for harboring known enemies of King Edward and your refusal to give your oath to England. Your punishment is death by way of the gallows. Prior to your hanging, we have agreed to your marriage to Laird Stewart so that he may rightfully inherit both your lands and your castle upon your death as agreed in the contract he possesses,” the English priest said in a cold and heartless tone.

Stewart walked over to the bed and held Annella down while the priest mumbled in Latin in which Annella did not understand. She had assumed that he was either giving her last rites or reciting the vows of marriage. With all her strength, she struggled to get off the bed but Stewart kept her down with the strength of his arms.

“Do you Lady Annella take his man as your wedded husband?”

“Nay, ne’er,” she screamed and fought Stewart on the bed while he was beginning to remove his trews.

Stewart covered her mouth with his hand and bellowed out, “Aye she does and so do I, get on wit it.”

“Then I pronounce you husband and wife.”

Stewart leaned down on Annella and kissed her hard. Crying, she continued to buck underneath him. The priest stood watch to witness the consummation.

“Nay ye may no’ have me, ye will ne’er have me,” Annella shouted and with her hand, she dug her fingernails into the side of Stewart’s face drawing blood.

“Ye bitch.” Stewart said and with as much force as he could muster slapped Annella unconscious.

The next morning Rory and Ewan looked down upon the village of Dumfries. Nothing had appeared out of the ordinary. Rory saw merchants and traders busy hustling their goods and several villagers walking about. This was a good sign. Any sign of panic or threat would cause his plan to fail and he would not let it falter.

After a few moments of observing, the men rode their horses into the village below to uncover as much information they could about the occupying English. Rory and his men walked through the busy streets until he had seen an inn at the end of the road. He knew that would be their best bet. Drunken men often had loose tongues. Rory and a few of his men entered the inn while the others went to take the horses to the stables. They entered the inn and found a small round table near the back, waiting and listening.

Not long after they arrived a plump and fleshy woman came up to them. “Get ye fine men a drink?”

“Aye, whiskey,” Ewan said back to her. Leaning over to Rory, he whispered, “Looks like nothing but Scots here. Do ye think we got here too late?”

“Nay. They are here, somewhere,” Rory replied scanning the room.

The barmaid quickly came back with three mugs of whiskey. She leaned over to set them on the table, exposing her busty cleavage. With a smirk on his face, Rory asked, “What do ye ken of the English that came through here, my lady?”

“Seeking out the English are ye, my fine handsome mon? That will only get ye at the end of a noose around here.”

She gave him a devilish grin and placed her hand on his shoulder. Leaning in she pressed her lips against his ear.

“Rumor has it that now that Laird Maxwell has been away for a fortnight, they have detained Caerlaverock Castle until he returns. He has been charged with treason, they say. A group of riders just passed here three nights ago.”

“Was there a lass wit them?”

“A lass? If ye are looking for a lass, I can help ye with that,” she said and winked her eye.

“Nay thank ye, but I am looking for someone.”

“Mmmph, Nay I dinna see a lass.” She put her hands on her hip and snarled as she walked away.

“What did the wench say?” Ewan questioned.

“She said that the English are occupying Caerlaverock Castle. Laird Maxwell has been away and the English are charging him wit treason. They wait for his arrival. That must be where they took Annella.” He slammed his fist on the table and swallowed back the rest of his whiskey.

Even thinking about Annella being in the hands of the English made the anger inside him fuel with intensity. She has already been in their company for almost a full week and the fear and vengeance inside him was escalating with each passing day. He needed to get to Laird Maxwell’s holding and fast while striking down every Sassenach he passed along the way.

“Sir. I do not mean to disturb you but the guards have caught a man lurking outside of the gates. He’s a Scot and is demanding to see the Englishman who is in charge,” an English guard informed the Earl.

“Is it that bastard Maxwell?”