My Captive Highlander (Highland Adventure Book 7) (2 page)

Maili's
hands shook as she tried to concentrate on embroidering green bracken fronds onto a dress, but a feeling of distress near overwhelmed her.

'Twas
the same feeling she'd experienced last night when she dreamed of the drowning man.

Maili glanced up at her cousin Constance who sat across from her, embroidering serenely. Fair-haired and green-eyed, Constance was beautiful and she knew it. Maili didn't wish her cousin to know anything about her thoughts. She looked on
Maili's
"sight" with scorn.

Unable to tolerate the suspense any longer, Maili tossed down her embroidery, sprang from the chair and strode to the window. Her gaze skimmed over the loch, much calmer now in the sunlight and reflecting the brilliant blue sky. At first, she saw naught, then she noticed a small galley being rowed toward the castle. Her brother's scouts patrolled the loch each day and night, going so far as the sea and then returning. Had they picked up the man she'd had the nightmare about?

Her stomach knotted as they rowed closer. When the men leapt ashore and pulled the galley in, one man remained lying in the boat, unmoving.

"
'Tis
him," she whispered, touching the wavy glass.

"What?" Constance asked behind her.

"Naught."

One of her brother's guards dipped a bucket of water and splashed it into the stranger's face. When he roused, two men dragged him from the boat. The bound stranger was dark-haired, tall and lean… and he wore a tartan weave she'd never seen before.

The two scouts tugged him up the shore and around the side of the castle. He jerked against them, trying to fight or escape. Fury, pain and fear radiated from him.

Who was he and what would her brother do to him? She hastened toward the door.

"Where are you going?" Constance asked.

Maili paused. "Some of the men are bringing in a stranger. I but wondered who he is."

"Why does it matter? Probably someone who trespassed onto clan lands."

"Aye. I'll return forthwith." She calmly exited and closed the door. Once out of sight, she trotted down the narrow stone stairwell to the great hall. She flew down the outside steps just as her brother smashed his fist against the stranger's jaw.
Nay!
One of the other men delivered a fearsome jab to the poor man's stomach. He was already bloody and haggard, his hands bound behind his back.

"Stop!" Maili yelled, racing toward them.

Elrick
turned a furious glare on her, his tawny hair glinting in the bright sunlight and his eyes the color of blue flame. "What the bloody hell are you doing out here?"

"Who is he?" she asked. The sight of the newcomer's beaten, battered and bloody face made her ache inside. His doublet was drenched in blood. When his dark eyes met hers, 'twas clear he was halfway insensible and near to passing out. Something within her demanded that she protect him.

"He's a damned
MacKenzie
," her brother said. "Why do you care?"

She'd heard about the past blood feud with the
MacKenzies
years ago. "He's injured."

"Aye, and he's going to be even more injured before I'm through with him."
Elrick
gave a malicious grin.

Images of war and carnage flashed through her mind. "Nay, you must not harm him further or you will bring another feud to our clan," she warned.

"Don't think to order me about, sister! Take her inside!"

"What do you intend to do with him?" she asked, trying to keep her voice calm and reasonable.

"Get her out of here. Now!" he ordered.

One of the burly guards picked her up, tossed her over his massive shoulder and carried her up the steps. She pounded her fists against his broad back, fighting to escape, but kept her gaze on the
MacKenzie
stranger. She had to help him!

But how?

"I cannot wait until she's married and gone from here," her brother grumbled loudly.

Chuckles followed.

"The wee witch is naught but trouble," her brother's sword-bearer and war leader Hamish said.

After the guard carried her into the great hall, the entry door slammed, cutting off the rest of the conversation about her.

"Damn you! Release me!" she told the guard.

He gave a brief laugh and tossed her to her feet. "Do not place a curse on me, witch. I'm only following orders."

"I am not a witch," she said through clenched teeth and tried to dart around him toward the door.

"Nay." He jumped in front of her and blocked the door.

She hastened across the room to the narrow window that looked out over the
barmkin
.

Her brother slammed his fist into the
MacKenzie
man's stomach and he doubled over.

"Stop it,
Elrick
," she grumbled. Shouting at him would do no good. '
Twould
only make him angrier. How could he be so vicious? He was nothing like their dear, departed father or her other brother, Neacal.

Elrick
stepped back to converse with three of his advisors. Her gaze locked to the dark-haired stranger. He needed the healer and probably some food. But 'twas something beyond his immediate needs that drew her attention. Something that made her want to run to him and protect him against her own clansmen.

She sensed he was a man who would be important to her.

***

As Shamus stood in the walled
barmkin
, pain lacerated every part of his body. He ground his teeth to keep from groaning and showing weakness before these bastards. He blinked, trying to maintain full awareness.

The chief and his men talked of ransom and how much they could get for him. If that was what they intended, they wouldn't kill him at least. But they wouldn't care how many injuries they gave him on top of the ones he'd endured in the ocean.

His throat dry as sunbaked sand, he swallowed and tried to remain still as he puzzled over why the chief's sister had come to his defense with such vehemence. They'd called her a witch. Could it be true? One thing was certain, her lustrous dark hair and fair face were the only rays of hope and beauty at
Bearach
Castle.

"Take him to the dungeon," the young MacDonald chief commanded. The whoreson appeared younger than Shamus' own twenty-eight summers.

When he didn't move fast enough, the two clansmen dragged him by the arms. Pain stabbed through his shoulder.

"Bastards," he growled as they pulled him toward a doorway.

In retaliation, they yanked on his injured shoulder extra hard. Once in the dungeon, they cut the ropes binding his wrists, tossed him onto the hard-packed dirt floor of the cell and slammed the iron door shut. Pain smashing through several parts of his body, he lay still, his teeth clenched tight, praying the agony would go away.

What the devil had he done to deserve this?

The aches wracking his body eased away bit by bit in the silence after the men left. He inhaled a deep breath of the dank, mildew-scented air and opened his eyes. The only weak light came from a torch in the stone corridor further along.

Where were Fraser and the rest of his clansmen? Had they survived the galley wreck or were they all dead, drowned, and washed upon some other clan's shore? And what of Dermott, his crew and galley?

Shamus' stomach ached with fear for his brothers. The pain in his head throbbed so severely, nausea rose up within him. At the same time, his mouth felt parched and dry as a ten day old bannock.

How long would they leave him here? And how would they get word to Cyrus that he was being held? He hoped they would send a messenger soon.

***

"
Tavia
, gather your supplies," Maili whispered to the clan healer a short time later, then glanced over her shoulder at those in the great hall. Neither her brother nor his closest men were present and it was not yet time for midday meal. "We must see to the stranger's injuries."

"Who is he?"
Tavia
asked, keeping her voice equally quiet. Though she was more than a decade older than Maili, they had been close since Maili had broken her arm as a wee lass and
Tavia
had set it.

"The
MacKenzie
chief's brother. A gentleman of the clan. If
Elrick
kills him or injures him further, I fear what the
MacKenzies
will do. Come down on us with fire and sword, without doubt."

Tavia
lifted a mischievous brow, her green eyes twinkling. "Are you certain that's the only reason you wish to help him? Or is there something else?"

Maili frowned. "Is that not enough?"

"Of course."
Tavia
grinned. "But I'm thinking you're drawn to the mysterious stranger."

"Well…" Maili rolled her eyes. "I could not even tell if he was handsome or not, with his face so swollen and bloody," she said, trying to pretend she had no interest in him. "His shoulder was bleeding badly. While you're preparing your herbs and supplies, I'll go fetch him some food from the kitchen."

"Are you sure the chief will allow us into the dungeon to help him?"

"If he does not, I'll appeal to the elders and the council."

A portion of the clan was already dissatisfied with
Elrick's
leadership skills, or lack of them. He was too hotheaded and impulsive, they said.
'Twas
sad her other brother, a year younger than
Elrick
, had left the clan several months ago. She did not even ken whether Neacal was still alive. Every day, she prayed he was, for she missed him. He had always treated her with kindness. He had a dark and tormented soul and could not abide the castle walls. He'd told her he had to leave to save his own sanity.

After gathering a few bannocks and a jug of ale for the stranger, along with a woolen blanket for warmth, she met
Tavia
in the great hall and they proceeded out to the sun-warmed bailey where a high, thick stone wall surrounded them. Lifting the hem of her plaid
arisaid
, she stepped over a puddle of water which remained from last night's storm as they strode toward the entrance to the dungeon.

"We've been sent to see to the prisoner's injuries," Maili told the two guards.

The massive guard,
Gegrim
, wearing leather armor and helm, crossed his arms over his chest. "The chief mentioned naught to us about it."

"What are you about, Maili?"
Elrick
yelled as he crossed the courtyard.

Stiffening her spine, she waited until her brother stopped a few feet away. "We're trying to make sure your prisoner survives. What do you think the
MacKenzie
chief will do if his brother dies here at your hand?"

"Not at my hand, my daft sister. He was already badly injured when my soldiers picked him up."

"Do you think the
MacKenzies
will believe that?" she challenged.

Elrick
narrowed his eyes. "I don't give a damn."

"I'll ask the elders what they think we should do, then," she said.

"Nay, not a word to them,"
Elrick
growled. "Go. See to the whoreson, and be quick about it." He turned to the guards. "Watch them and make certain the prisoner does not escape."

Gegrim
gave a sharp nod and stepped aside. Maili proceeded down the stone steps into the darkness below,
Tavia
following.

Good lord, how Maili hated the dungeon. She could distinguish little until
Gegrim
brought forth a torch. Then she saw that the prisoner lay on his side on the filthy dirt floor of the cell. The second guard unlocked the door and she entered with
Tavia
.

"We need better light," Maili said, motioning
Gegrim
forward. He entered the cell and stood near them, bringing the torch so close the heat of it warmed her skin.

Maili knelt on the floor beside the dark-haired man. "Master
MacKenzie
, we're here to dress your wounds. And we brought food."

He turned his bloody face toward her and his swollen eyes opened a crack. "Thirsty," he whispered.

"Of course." Damn her brother and his men for beating him so badly. "I have some ale," she said in a soothing voice. After uncorking the stoneware jug, she tilted it to his mouth. He drank heartily, some of the liquid running down his cheek and spilling onto the floor.

He lay back, breathing hard. "I thank you, m'lady," he whispered.

"What is your name?" Maili asked.

"Shamus
MacKenzie
." His voice was a bit stronger, not as raspy.

"I brought the healer to tend your wounds. Are you in much pain?"

When he didn't answer, she grew concerned. "Master
MacKenzie
—"

"Shamus," he murmured.

"You will not harm us, will you, Shamus?" she asked.

"Nay."

Kneeling,
Tavia
set about removing his doublet and shirt while Maili stood beside the guard holding the torch and tried not to watch. But Shamus was a lean and finely-hewn man with broad shoulders and defined muscles in his chest and arms. She had accidentally glimpsed a few men of her clan, distant cousins, taking swims in the loch at sunset once but none would compare to Shamus.