Highlanders (15 page)

CHAPTER NINE

A
LTHOUGH
SHE
WAS
tied to a tree and worried to death about Jamie, Elizabeth did fall asleep several times during that long night. She noticed when Niall changed places with Shaw and then when Dougal took over. She saw the sky begin to lighten as the sun threatened to rise and she watched as the clouds thickened overhead and rolled ominously above them.

All night long she tried to remember the secret to Shaw’s knots. She’d been successful in loosening them when she was younger and her brother and his friends liked to play tricks on her and the other girls. Fighting them tightened them, so she tried to slide her fingers loose by easing her hands to and fro within the intricate loops. A dagger. What she wouldn’t give for a good, sharp dagger that could cut through the rope
and
cut off a few dangly bits from her brother’s body, too!

She should feel embarrassed and humiliated, but instead she felt murderous. Dougal had purposely ordered Shaw to take her away so she could not interfere with his plans to beat Jamie to within an inch of life. The earl would never have made such an order and Elizabeth was certain that that part had been Dougal’s decision.

Peering across the clearing, she tried to see if Jamie yet slept. His face was bloodied and swollen. He had not moved since they dropped him there. She needed to see to his injuries before Dougal tried to travel back to Lairig Dubh. Elizabeth was concentrating so hard on freeing herself and on seeing how Jamie fared that she never heard Dougal’s approach from behind her.

“Here,” he said, holding out a skin to her. “Drink.”

Nothing else. No apologies for tying her to a tree and leaving her all night. She was thirsty enough that she would have taken it from him—until she saw the bloody splashes on his hands and arms.

Jamie’s blood.

With the increasing light from the sun, she could see that Jamie must have fought back, for Dougal was a bit bruised about the face. And he grimaced as he leaned over to her.

Good. She hoped he was suffering for what he’d done.

“Connor ordered you to beat him?” she asked.

“Connor ordered me to bring him back alive. I but treated him to the anger of a brother for the mistreatment of his sister.” He held out the skin again.

“‘Twas not your place to do so, Dougal. I did not need you to avenge my honor.”

If he had lived in the village during that previous incident, he would have done the same thing. She tried not to be too angry at him for he did not realize he was returning her to face shame once more before the earl and that it would end with her complete disgrace and exile from their family.

Worse, her parents would bear this shame, too. The earl might be a worldly man and intelligent and willing to forgive a young, stupid and naive girl’s misstep once. But this time would push him into harsher actions against her. The only problem was that she could not explain it to Dougal without first exposing her misjudgment.

She could not bear to have her brother look at her with disappointment in his gaze. That she would not do.

“Drink and I’ll take you so you can see to you needs. You must have to...” He motioned off to the ground, where he and the other men could so easily see to theirs.

“I would see to Jamie, Dougal. Please.”

They had reached a point familiar to both of them. Their innately stubborn natures brought them to it many, many times and it became a joke of a sort between them. Who would give in this time? If she did, would it soften his refusal to let her help Jamie? She must take the chance, for his sake.

She held out her hands and he placed the skin in them, pulling the stopper free. Elizabeth lifted it up and drank slowly. After a few mouthfuls, she handed it back to him. He sealed it and slung it over his shoulder. When she held out her hands to him, he loosened the knots and the ropes dropped off.

It only took a moment to free her feet, but she wobbled as she tried to stand. Dougal grabbed her by the arm and waited until she got her feet beneath her. He tugged her in the other direction from where she wanted to go and walked with her into the trees, looking for a place to use. When they were behind enough trees so she would not be seen, he released her.

“I will wait here. Go, see to your needs.”

She did not take long, once her legs stopped burning from lack of movement, she finished her task and returned to her brother. He walked next to her on the way back to the clearing, allowing her to walk without holding her. So, when they reached the others, she paused and waited, hoping he would let her go to Jamie. He took her by the arm and she thought he meant to tie her up again, but they walked on past the tree and across the clearing to where he lay.

Elizabeth tried not to cry before them, but the tears streamed down her cheeks when she saw the damage her brother had wrought on Jamie.

There was a deep gash that began on his forehead and ran into his hair, which still bled. His left eye was swollen shut and his jaw was mottled with bruises. His lip was split in the center and dried blood covered his face and neck. From the strange way his fingers fell, she thought he might have broken two or three of them on his left hand. It was all she could do not to fall to her knees and wail like a
bean-shithe
singing her song of death. Elizabeth took a deep breath and told Dougal what she needed.

Though he stood there silently watching her, he nodded and left, returning a few minutes later with water, her other shift to use for bandages and some whiskey for cleaning the wounds and helping with his pain. She proceeded to clean the wounds she could find, even tearing open the bloodied shirt to find more bruises and cuts on his chest. His head and face were the worst and she thought the gash was deep enough to need stitches—stitches she did not have.

It took her some time and all the while the three men stood off a bit watching and saying nothing. Did they hear her prayers as she whispered them to the Almighty? Elizabeth had helped her mother tend the sick but this was beyond that. What worried her the most was that through it all, through the poking and prodding and cleaning, Jamie never moved or made a sound.

She called Niall over when she needed help wrapping the long strips of linen, torn from her shift, around his chest to support what she thought might be broken or badly bruised ribs. Finally finished, she gathered up the cloths she’d used and handed the water skin back to Dougal.

“The rains are coming again and he will need shelter, Dougal. At least until he wakes.” She tried to soften her voice so it did not sound like an order, but she knew it did. And she did not care. “If he wakes.”

All three men paled at her words. Dougal took them aside to talk amongst themselves and she knelt at Jamie’s side, holding his battered hand in hers. Niall walked away first and then Dougal returned to her.

“Niall is going to the village. There was an unused cottage there and he will make arrangements. Since these people pay their rents to the MacLerie, it should be easy to arrange.”

“My thanks, Dougal,” she said. Then she watched as he frowned and stared at her as though trying to decipher a puzzle.

He did not try to move her from her place next to Jamie, so she remained there, watching him closely for any sign of waking. Each hour that passed with him asleep brought the danger closer. He could not die because of her. Because of her brother’s need to settle a score. Because of her past indiscretions.

Some time passed and Elizabeth’s stomach grumbled, reminding her of how much time had passed since her last meal. Though she did not want to leave his side, she climbed to her feet and walked to where they’d piled all the bags from the horses. Finding the right sack, she found the leftover oatcakes, quail, cheese and bread. She kept one oatcake and gave the rest to Dougal and Shaw.

She leapt up at the sound of Niall’s return. When she stood and saw that his horse now pulled a wooden cart behind it, she thought there was some hope for Jamie. Niall drove the horse into the clearing and held onto the reins while Dougal and Shaw lifted Jamie and placed him in the back. When they tossed the bags in, she arranged a couple of them under Jamie’s head to absorb most of the bumpiness of the rough road on the way back to the village.

The small cottage sat just before the village, farther into the forest so it was not seen from the road. Niall turned the horse down a small, almost-hidden path and it appeared after a few minutes. Trying to keep her bearings, Elizabeth thought it might have been about a quarter mile. Niall helped her down from the bench of the cart and she went to see what the cottage looked like inside. The winds whipped her hair loose and she had to gather it in her hands to keep it out of her face. She leaned down to enter through the lower door.

Not as tiny as the shieling, but not very big, the cottage had three rooms—one main living area with a hearth built into one wall, another smaller, windowless room suitable as a storage room and one bedroom, this with one small window high in the back wall. Escape would be impossible from this cottage, which from his smile, Dougal must have realized at the same moment she had.

The good thing was that it was clean, with no rodents or other creatures hiding in it as usually happened with unused crofts. And, as the skies opened and the rains poured down, it did not leak. She’d managed to make a pallet out of some blankets on the floor of the storage chamber for Jamie, and Niall and Shaw carried him inside just as the storm began.

The men also brought in supplies and foodstuffs, a small keg of whiskey and another of ale. From the looks of it, Dougal took Jamie’s injuries seriously and understood it could be days before he could travel.

“I borrowed what I could and bought some. The innkeeper provided me with a griddle pan and some pots and plates. They recognized me as the earl’s man and said he would get whatever we needed,” Niall explained as he set out the goods he’d returned with. “We can return everything when we leave and pay for what we use.”

She walked into the smallest room and checked on Jamie before beginning to organize the food and supplies in the cooking area. He lay unmoving as before and seemed no worse for the short, though bumpy journey here. Her brother and the others would expect her to cook while they stayed here. Elizabeth wondered if Dougal yet remembered how badly she cooked.

The rains continued through the rest of the day. The innkeeper had sent along another quail, so she boiled it to make broth for him and the others would eat the rest of it. Tempted to cook the way she had at home to hide her skills, she decided against it. So, she made simple foods to feed them.

The day passed slowly for her. She spent most of her time sitting with Jamie, hoping that he would wake so she could explain things to him. The earl knew the truth about her past and would certainly not force Jamie into a marriage knowing that. If nothing else, she had decided to plead that to the earl when they returned and hopefully Connor would be content banishing her from Lairig Dubh and returning Jamie to face his parents’ wrath.

That night she and Dougal shared the bedchamber, with Dougal sleeping across the place in front of the door. Niall and Shaw slept in the main room. Elizabeth prayed for many things that night, but mostly she prayed that Jamie would wake up.

* * *

D
ARKNESS
AND
AGONY
swirled around him, making it impossible for him to see anything. He struggled against it, fighting his way through the waves of pain only to face more. His body hurt, his head hurt, but worse was the anguish that pierced his heart when he remembered how he’d treated Elizabeth.

Her eyes, carrying that secret shame deep within them, pleading with him for understanding. And he failed her. He professed his love and ignored his pride. He needed to tell her.

Elizabeth! He tried to call to her but she faded away.

He would never let her go. He would never let her face her family, the laird, and be subjected to censure of any kind. She was his.

Her voice echoed in his head then and he pushed his way to reach her. But no matter what he did, he could not seem to make her hear him. Over and over, hour after hour, he called for her. Her touch on his hand or his arm or his head soothed him. When he tried to reach for her, his body would not do what he wanted. His eyes would not even open so he could see her.

Had Dougal hurt her? Had he punished her for his sins?

With all his might, against the terrible wall of pain, he pushed, trying to get a sound through to her. Then exhausted, he fell back into the black depths of unconsciousness.

His last thought was for her, a prayer that she would forgive him for failing her so badly.

CHAPTER TEN

A
T
FIRST
,
SHE
thought she was dreaming or imagining it.

Elizabeth moved the tallow candle closer and watched carefully, but now there was no sign of movement. Two days and nights had passed and he remained deeply unconscious. Dougal even sent for one of the old women of the village, one who had some skills in healing and treating the sick, but she said she could do nothing more for him.

Head injuries, she whispered to Dougal believing Elizabeth could not hear her, were the least predictable of all. But, she warned him that this deep sleep was lasting too long and not a good sign. With a promise to visit again in a few days and after leaving a few potions and concoctions behind in case she had need of them, the old woman waddled her way along the road back to the village, refusing any attempt to take her by cart.

As had become her practice these last few days, Elizabeth sat at his side and spoke quietly to him. Most times she simply repeated prayers so that he could hear them. Other times, she told him of her childhood and good stories about Dougal so he would know her brother was not just an evil person. And sometimes, when the men were outside the cottage, she spoke of her love for him and her failures.

But mostly, she prayed she would have a chance to make things right between them.

Old Muireall approved of feeding him some of the broth Elizabeth had made, so a couple times a day, she sat behind him, with his head resting on her chest, and dribbled spoonfuls of liquid into his mouth. She could coax it down his throat, much more successfully than the first few times she’d tried. Now, he swallowed more of it than they both wore.

The outside door opened and she waited for word of what the men had discussed. When no one approached, she walked to the chamber door and eased it open. All three stood there, silent now that she’d opened the door. Dougal motioned to her to come out, so she stepped out and pulled the door behind her.

“If he does not wake in another two days, I am sending Niall back to Lairig Dubh with word of his condition,” he said.

Elizabeth nodded at his grim announcement. For Dougal to send word to the earl that exposed that he had lost his temper and caused Jamie’s condition was a serious admission to make. He would be in trouble for disobeying the laird’s commands, losing whatever status he might have and being humiliated among his clan.

How had things gone so wrong?

She went back into the chamber to watch over Jamie, but dissolved into tears when she knelt next to him. Everything had gone wrong and a simple desire to be together had now ruined more lives than she could count—and might even cost Jamie his.

All for love? She thought love would be the answer to their problems, but instead pursuit of it seemed to cause all their problems. Standing by while Ciara married him could not be worse than the mayhem and damage following their own desires had wrought. Mayhap being content in marriage was enough and seeking a grand adventure of the heart just brought pain?

She leaned her head down and let her grief and worry out for the first time. Praying that his life would be spared, she bargained with the Almighty, offering up all manner of possible sacrifices if only...if only...

“Dinna greet, lass.”

Low and raspy, she nearly did not recognize his voice, but as he touched her head, tangling his fingers in her unbound hair, she knew he was truly awake. Elizabeth lifted her head and looked into his eyes for the first time in days.

“Nothing can be as bad as that,” he whispered to her. He had no idea of how bad things were at that moment. Happy that he was waking up, she smiled through her tears.

“Not now that you are awake,” she said. Without thinking about anything else, she leaned over and kissed him. Careful not to press too hard against his torn lip, she only touched her mouth to his for a moment. Realizing he must be parched, she sat up and reached for the cup she kept there, always ready for him. “Here now, sip this,” she said, lifting his head so he could take some.

She did it in small steps, until he’d emptied the cup. When she let his head rest back, he reached out and took hold of her hand, squeezing it for a moment.

“Elizabeth, we must talk,” he said. His eyes began to droop and she knew he was falling asleep again, this time into a normal sleep so she did not fear for him. “I have to tell you...”

He never finished his words. She did not care for there would be time now to sort it all out. After watching him for several more minutes, she left the chamber to tell Dougal the news.

With the news that he’d wakened, everyone’s mood lightened and their meal included a bit of conversation that no one had felt like having at previous meals. After eating and cleaning up, Elizabeth reached for the latch to his door. Dougal stepped between her and the chamber, stopping her from entering.

“Go now, Elizabeth, and get some rest.”

“I want to sit with him, Dougal. If he wakes...”

“When he wakes, I will call you. But, if you do not get some sleep, you will make yourself sick and be of no good to him or anyone.”

When he crossed his arms over his chest, she knew she’d lost this argument. Nodding, she went into the bedchamber and laid down on the pile of blankets there. Only planning to sleep for a short time, Elizabeth was surprised when morning’s light greeted her as she woke.

* * *

D
OUGAL
WATCHED
THE
steely determination in his sister and understood what, or who, caused it. Murray had not forced her in any way—Elizabeth was deeply in love with him. As he observed her care of him over the last several days, it was a fact he could not miss. Not even while his temper still held sway over him. Not even when the man’s death seemed imminent. And not even now when the news he’d awakened lifted her spirits.

He sat with his back against the wall inside the small chamber, drinking some whiskey and thinking on how this would all go and not liking any of it. His first time in command and it was a debacle. He’d lost his temper within seconds of encountering the two of them and nearly beaten Murray to death. He was not one to shy away from a good fight or even from killing when it needed be done, but the results of this lack of control sickened him.

Connor expected obedience from everyone who served him. Duncan and Rurik had tried to warn him, but he was too bent on avenging what he thought was Murray’s dishonoring of his sister to keep his temper under control.

Taking another swallow of the
uisge beatha
he considered his choices in how to carry out his orders and how they would affect his sister and the man before him. Her earlier indiscretion aside, she was his younger sibling, the only one to live through childhood, and though he and his friends tormented her endlessly, their bond was unbreakable. She probably wished him in hell right now, he knew that from the glare she gave him from time to time.

The last time Elizabeth had fallen from honor, it was because she was too sweet and too young to know a man’s game...and because he was not there to watch over her. It would have taken him no more than a breath to see the craven bastard’s plan and put an end to it—if he’d been there. But he was training and living elsewhere and Elizabeth had been drawn in with the man’s pretty words and promises. She did not think he knew about it but he did.

He could not fail her this time.

So, when word spread that she’d been taken by Murray, that he’d forced her to leave with him, he knew his chance had come. The smell of recent sex in the shieling just proved Murray’s guilt to him and he’d attacked the man—for his own failure once more.

From Connor’s comments to his wife, he fully expected Murray to marry his sister. Actually, it sounded as though he expected they would already be married by the time they were found. He’d allowed his friend Tavis to marry Ciara, though in many ways, it was not an acceptable match. Ciara Robertson was higher in status, connected to powerful families in Scotland and wealthier than any woman Dougal could think on. And it was her wealth, not her husband’s.

Now that he’d time to think on it, mayhap Connor waited to give Murray time to marry Elizabeth? The earl knew where they were heading because Lady MacLerie told them about the priest. By giving them an entire day before sending someone after them, Connor knew they would have done the deed before being found. Which would give Connor less control over separating them once they were returned. A valid marriage, even in the Old Church style, was legitimate and hard to break.

But the storms arrived and delayed them in getting to the priest. And that gave him a chance to catch up with them before that marriage could happen.

He drank down the last of the whiskey in his cup and thought on all of this. It was moot until Murray was able to travel, so there was time aplenty to make decisions about his orders. Dougal was about to close his eyes and get some sleep when Murray moved, shifting and moaning out his sister’s name as he did.

The man, though a Lowland nobleman and not trained as he’d been by the best warriors in the Highlands, could inflict pain with his punches, too. Dougal had been impressed, as had Niall, in his ability to last as long as he had and to land some bruising blows. His own ribs ached even now. Pouring more whiskey in his cup from the keg at his side, he went over and crouched next to him.

“Here, Murray,” he said, lifting the man’s head. “This will help with the pain.” Although he did not resist, Murray eyed him with suspicion as he drank it down. “I am not trying to poison you. If you think to marry my sister, her cooking may very well do that for you.” Dougal let Murray’s head rest back down.

“She told me as much,” Murray said, as he slid his hand down over his tightly bound ribs.

Though now that he thought on the matter of Elizabeth’s cooking, Dougal realized that none of the meals she’d made for them had sickened any of them. Hmmm.

“What are you going to do, Dougal?”

How many times could he fail his sister before doing what was best for her? That was the true question in all this, was it not? And all he knew is that he did not know the answer yet. Pouring himself another wee dram and drinking it down, Dougal shrugged.

“Get some rest, Murray. We will talk in the morn.”

Knowing the man was well-enough, Dougal rose and walked out into the main room. And laying himself down in front the chamber’s door, he went to sleep, wondering just what the bloody hell he would do.

* * *

J
AMES
LISTENED
AS
Dougal left the chamber.

Every part and bit of him hurt, but he was alive. Until he woke to the sound of Elizabeth crying, he did not know if he would ever wake again. He’d actually thought at first that she was sobbing because he’d died. The pain seeped into his mind and he knew that only being alive could hurt this much.

What a fool he’d been! Not speaking on things that mattered with the woman he loved was likely the stupidest thing he’d done in his life. For a time, while drifting in that blackness, he thought would lead him to death, he prayed for a second chance with her. To make things right.

He did not know how, he only knew to the core of his soul that he must keep her with him and keep her from further humiliation.

As he drifted back to sleep, he thought on how he could do it and realized the only way was to kidnap her from her brother and get to the priest before they could be stopped. He laughed then and it made his ribs spasm with pain at the movement. The pain reminded him of all the reasons that would be impossible.

But, he would find a way to do it, to prove his love to her and to keep her at his side for the rest of their lives. If he died trying, so be it, however he would try.

For Elizabeth.