The Highlander's Heart (15 page)

David Campbell’s face was dark, in contrast to the beautiful, sunny day around him. His men had taken him back to the scene of the abduction so they could track the captors. At first the task was easy; the bandits had ridden as a group down the road at considerable speed. Then the tracks led in all directions.

Not knowing the correct path, they had to follow each lead until the tracks disappeared. It had taken days of careful searching, trying to find the right trail. On this day, David followed another set of tracks, which ended at a river. He searched up and down the bank looking for exit tracks but could find none.

This was maddening beyond words. Who knew what treatment his sister may be suffering while he ran after shadows? If anyone dared to touch her, he swore he would make his death slow and painful. Campbell mounted to ride back to camp. He would kill the sons of whores when he found them. And he would find them.

Back at camp, Campbell was disappointed to learn that none of his men had experienced any better luck than he. He was itching for action, preferably violent.

“Set up camp for the night. We ride to St. Margaret’s Convent tomorrow to meet wi’ Cait’s betrothed,” Campbell said to his men.

“What do ye do tonight?” asked Dain.

“I will continue to search.”

“I am wi’ ye,” said Dain.

“Me too,” said Gill.

“And me,” said Finn.

“I am no’ tired,” said Hamish, stifling a yawn.

“Thank ye. We will find her,” said Campbell, reassuring himself along with his brothers.

“Ye ken Gavin can help?” asked Dain.

“His kin knows these hills well. I hope they can tell us who may have taken Cait.”

Campbell signaled for the men who were coming with him to mount up. His brothers and all of his clansmen joined him. Campbell acknowledged their dedication with a curt nod. Searching in the dark would be difficult, but he would not take his rest until he knew Cait was safe.

***

Cait Campbell waited impatiently for Andrew McNab to arrive. Over the past few days Andrew had been an attentive host, and she his most willing captive. Her body hummed with excitement, as if for the first time in her life she was really alive. Even Alys had noticed her mood and commented on the smile often seen on Cait’s lips.

Cait tried to be more circumspect and guarded with her feelings, but it was a pointless exercise ending in abysmal failure after a few minutes of effort. Today, Cait expected to be taken off by her captor and forced to do goodness only knows what to win her freedom. Her pulse raced merrily, and heat flushed through her in odd places.

Despite her determination to remain aloof, Cait drummed her fingers on the tablecloth and stared at the door, waiting for her captor’s knock. Where was this man? Was it too much to ask for him to be prompt in his threat to ravish her senseless?

“Waiting for someone?” asked Alys.

“What? Nay! I mean, Andrew may call on us, but it is nothing to me.” Cait smoothed invisible wrinkles out of the tablecloth.

“I expect Archie will come to call as well.”

“Oh! That hideous man!” Cait clutched the formerly smooth tablecloth. “Has he bothered ye? Do ye wish me to stay wi’ ye?”

“Nay, he’s no bother to me. He is quite gentlemanly. He is handsome, no?”

“Nay!” Cait could not think kindly on the man who had abducted her, though she was relieved not to be obliged to remain with Alys.

Alys frowned. “I think he is simply trying to protect his clan, albeit misguided. He needs someone to take care o’ him.”

“My brother will take care o’ him,” snapped Cait.

A knock came to the door and Cait nearly vaulted over the table to open it. Andrew stood in the doorway, his big eyes sad, the corners of his mouth drooped.

“What’s wrong?” asked Cait.

“Archie is sending me up north to go fishing.”

“What! Why?”

“Ye said m’lady only eats fish on Fridays, particularly haddock. Well, our haddock run has already come and gone, and it being Friday tomorrow, Archie wants me to go up north to see if I can find some.”

“Nonsense, ye must have misunderstood me. Honestly, I dinna ken why I talk when nobody listens. What fish do ye have in the loch now?”

“Salmon.”

“Well that is what m’lady likes best. Shall we go?”

“I need to tell Archie—”

“We’ll tell him together and then go for a ride,” commanded Cait and marched out of the room, dragging her captor behind her.

***

Isabelle awoke securely within the walls of St. Margaret’s Convent. She breathed deeply, relishing her newfound freedom. It was marvelous to have finally succeeded in her plans, even if her pallet was made of rocks, and the homespun wool gown they gave her must have been woven by the weaver’s blind, drunk cousin. It fit poorly. And it itched. But she was at St. Margaret’s, a feat that pleased her greatly.

When a small band of travelers had caught her on the road from Innis Chonnel, she feared her escape would be short-lived. Remembering her lesson from the common room in Glasgow, she clamped her mouth shut and said not a word. Instead, she clasped her hands together, and looked toward the heavens in a universal sign of piety. Maybe it was her look of innocence, maybe it was the gold coin she offered, but the party agreed to take her on to the convent.

A woman in the party dubbed her a little lost nun and took her up in the wagon as they traveled. It took two days to arrive at St. Margaret’s Convent. Two days without speaking and looking pious; it nearly killed her. But it worked, and Isabelle relished her success.

She had arrived late yesterday and had been given hospitality without question. Her kindly traveling companions had continued on their journey, so today she needed to make her plea. Convincing some Church official to give her an annulment or allow her to divorce could hardly be as difficult as escaping from Campbell. She smoothed her rough gown, brushing away her fears. It had to work. She had come too far to fail now.

Isabelle briefly considered simply pretending to be some random peasant girl requesting to enter the convent, and to hide here in this foreign place until her husband died. But what would happen to her people while she hid to protect herself? No, she could not treat them so poorly. They were the only family she had left. She must plead to have her marriage dissolved. Besides, the wool gown was itching something fierce.

Isabelle entered the common room and was invited by the nuns to break her fast with them. She quickly learned she needed to present her case to the Mother Superior, but Mother Enid was out visiting and would not return until the next day. There were a few whispers between the nuns about the number of other guests, but an elder nun waved away the concerns and invited Isabelle to stay as a guest at the convent. Isabelle readily accepted.

After a bland meal of porridge, Isabelle walked outside the hall into the bright sun of a crisp morning. A group of men were entering the hall, most likely the other guests the nuns had discussed. Isabelle stepped to the side and turned her face away from the sun shining directly in her eyes. Shielding her eyes from the sun, she brushed against the large form of a man.

“I beg your pardon,” she mumbled without looking up.

“Good morn to ye, Lady Tynsdale,” said an all-too-familiar voice.

Isabelle’s head shot up and she jumped backward with a small shriek. David Campbell stood before her.

Campbell pressed his lips together, glaring at her with accusing eyes. “My congratulations, madam. Ye have finally made yer escape.” Campbell’s voice was hard and detached.

“Campbell!” Isabelle stared at the figure before her like an apparition. Beyond the shock of seeing him, his appearance was much altered, dirty and worn from the road, his face had taken a grayish tinge. “You look dreadful.”

His shoulders hunched with invisible weight. “Thank ye, my lady.”

“Will you… are you going to take me back with you?” asked Isabelle. She forgot for a moment she was trying to escape him.

“Nay. If ye find my hospitality so displeasing, I winna force ye to come back. I canna take ye from the convent, or do ye think so poorly o’ me that ye dinna think I would respect the sanctuary o’ the Church.”

Isabelle said nothing. So many thoughts and emotions bombarded her mind, she could not decide what to say or how to feel. His face was wan, the lines on his forehead etched deep.

Campbell clenched his jaw and took a deep breath. “I only regret ye had to endure my hateful company as long as ye did. Good-bye to ye, Lady Tynsdale. I will no’ force ye to suffer my presence any longer.” Campbell stormed past her.

“No, wait, ’tis not that I do not appreciate—please stop!” He did not appear to have any intention to heed her, so she grabbed his arm and spun herself in front of him.

Campbell grabbed her arms as if to physically remove her from his path, but held her in place before him instead. “What do ye want from me?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Are you well?” Isabelle asked, putting her hand to his face. His eyes were dull and weary. David Campbell was suffering and all else was forgot.

“I canna find Cait.” His voice was rough, and splintered with pain.

Tears sprung to Isabelle’s eyes and she held David close. “You will find her. You can do anything.”

“I am afraid she has been…”

“No, you must not think that way. I am sure she is fine. She is a smart girl and you are a man of remarkable talents. You always find me, no matter where I go.”

Campbell stepped back from Isabelle’s embrace and put a hand softly on her cheek. “Unfortunately ye are no’ the lass I wish to find.”

Something tightened in Isabelle’s gut. It was her turn to step back.

“I dinna ken how ye managed to escape but it does’na matter,” said Campbell. “Nothing matters but finding Cait.”

Isabelle nodded and turned away. “I am certain you will find her soon.”

“I wish ye well. Good-bye, Lady Tynsdale.”

Campbell walked past her into the building. The finality of his farewell struck deep. She had lost him forever. Yet he had never been hers to lose, so it could not matter to her. Why then did her stomach sink like lead?

“Good-bye.”

Andrew walked back to the McNab tower house holding the hand of bonnie Alys. It was the height of foolishness. The looks of his clansmen should have been enough to release her hand. But it felt so good and she beamed so happily that he continued, knowing he would most certainly be mocked for it later.

He had spent a most delightful afternoon in a secluded glen with the lovely, fair-headed Campbell lass. They had talked about nothing, laughed nervously, and then kissed away the rest of the afternoon. When it was time to return, he said something about expecting more for her release, and she promised to comply with a saucy wink and they kissed a while longer.

Andrew lingered at the door of her chamber. “Thank ye for a lovely time, Miss Alys.”

She frowned, but only for a moment and smiled up at him through her lashes in a way that got his blood pumping. “Ye are a wicked man, Andrew McNab. I’ll expect to see ye early on the morrow.”

She opened the door to reveal Archie and the Lady Cait sitting close together on the window seat. Archie bolted to his feet, and Lady Cait blushed red beneath her brown curls. It seemed Archie was having good luck as well.

“M’lady!” exclaimed Alys. She did not seem pleased with the scene before her. No doubt she felt she must protect her lady from the likes of Archie McNab. Smart lass.

“Until the morrow,” said Archie, taking Lady Cait’s hand and kissing it, earning him another blush.

Archie strode from the room looking taller than he had earlier in the day. He gave Andrew a playful punch in the shoulder and together they walked to the solar. It was clear Archie was pleased with how things were proceeding with his wooing of Lady Cait. For the first time since the arrival of their female captives, Andrew thought Archie’s daft plan might actually work.

“Thank ye, Andrew, for getting that moat dragon out of the way. Lady Cait is coming around.”

“She’s no’ a dragon.” Andrew was unable to squelch the need to defend his lady. “She’s a beautiful lady and if she dinna care for ye, it only shows her good sense.”

Archie flopped into a chair and gave his younger brother a knowing smile. Andrew recognized too late his ardent defense had revealed too much of his feelings.

“Things going well wi’ Lady Cait, ye say?” asked Andrew in a nonchalant sort of way. Feelings and tender emotions were for the weak. He needed to get himself together before his older brother lost all respect for him and decided to thrash some toughness into him.

“Aye. She is verra different in person than your dragon Alys would make her out to be.”

Andrew sat in another chair in front of the small fire smoldering in the large hearth. He was not going to take the bait again.

“Another few days and I may be able to persuade her no’ to see us swing at the end o’ a rope. Give me a week and I may be able to convince her to wed.” Archie McNab was happy, unusual in itself, but his appearance had also improved. His shoulders were relaxed and the corners of his mouth turned up instead of the perpetual down. He even looked hopeful, and hope was not an expression Andrew had ever seen in his brother’s eye. Andrew should mock him in return, but he did not have the heart.

“Ye both are naught but fools.”

Andrew shrugged at his sister as she entered the room. Morrigan never shied away from giving her honest opinion at its most critical and pessimistic. Trouble was, she was generally right.

“If ye believe Lady Cait, Campbell’s own sister, is e’er going to wed ye, then ye are a bigger fool than I kenned.” Morrigan glared at Archie with glittering eyes. “She’s pretending to be amused by ye just to bide her time until her brother finds ye. Mark my words, Archie, she will ne’er marry ye.”

“She’ll agree to no’ tell her brother ’twas us who kidnapped her.” Archie defended his dream. “We’ll say we rescued her from the real abductors, and mayhap Campbell will even give us a reward for our service.”

“And how will ye know that she winna turn on ye once she is back safe with her brother. ’Tis easy to make promises now, prudent even, but I would be surprised indeed if she does’na reveal all to her brother once safely back at home.”

Archie’s smile waned, and he laid his head back against his chair and closed his eyes. “What would ye have me do then? If I send a note to ransom them, Campbell will come, take the lasses, and annihilate us. I canna simply give them back since they already know who we are.”

“And now is when ye get to thinking this through? Ye may have pondered this minor problem in yer daft plan before ye abducted them.” Morrigan shook her head, her eyes catching the light of the fire.

“’Tis possible they may choose no’ to reveal us to our deaths.” Archie folded his arms across his chest and regarded Morrigan with dark, cold eyes. “Though ye ken naught about human affection, it does’na mean these ladies have as black a soul as ye.”

Morrigan’s jaw clenched and her eyes narrowed. “Ye would risk all our lives on that chance? Ye’ve left us few options, Brother. The ladies must be eliminated.”

“Nay!” Andrew was on his feet before he knew he had spoken.

Morrigan slowly turned her maleficent gaze to him. “And ye’re just as big a fool as he, running after that wench.”

“Alys is no wench, she’s a lady-in—”

“She’s the castle whore if she’s spending her time snogging the likes o’ ye. Listen carefully, ye daft fools. ’Tis only a matter o’ time before the Campbell tracks them down. Would ye lead us into war wi’ the Campbells? Have ye no care for the lives o’ yer clan? Think on that before ye kill us all.”

Morrigan stalked from the room, leaving a cloud of desperation in her wake. All the joy and hope Andrew experienced earlier in the evening shriveled in his hands to dust. Collapsing back into his chair he tried to decipher a way out of this mess. He should just return the ladies, but doing that would risk the wrath of Campbell. Morrigan was right; their clan would hardly survive such an attack.

Andrew sat in the solar next to his brother long into the night. Neither spoke, even as darkness smothered the room, and all that was visible was the faint, red glow of the embers in the hearth. Andrew tried to devise a plan in which this situation could end without anyone being killed. The only course of action was to trust his fate to Alys and Lady Cait.

Alys must be made to love him. Their lives depended on it.

***

Cait lay in bed, far from sleep. She closed her eyes and smiled, reliving every lovely moment of her day with Andrew.

“Cait.” Alys spoke tentatively next to her in the dark.

Cait said nothing, hoping Alys would think her asleep. She did not wish to talk to the real Alys. She enjoyed pretending to be Alys too much to let reality intrude.

“Cait, I ken ye’re awake. I wish to speak wi’ ye about McNab. Archie proposed marriage to me.”

Cait snorted. “He wants to marry me, ye mean. Or rather, my dowry.”

“Aye,” Alys said slowly. “But can ye judge a man harsh for trying to better his lot in life?”

“He’s no’ bettering himself, he abducted me. I’m surprised at ye, Alys. One would think ye had gone sweet on him.”

Alys said nothing, the silence hanging heavy in the darkness between them. “’Tis the first proposal o’ marriage I have e’er received, and I’m no’ likely to receive another.”

“How can ye talk such nonsense?” Cait sputtered. “He does’na wish to wed ye, he only wishes my fortune.”

“And what o’ ye?” Alys retorted, her voice raised. “How can ye run off wi’ Andrew, making yerself the gossip o’ the whole castle. Have ye forgotten yer betrothal to Gavin Patrick?”

“’Tis enough, Alys!” Cait’s sparkling dream of happily ever after with Andrew shattered into thousands of pieces. She hated Alys for reminding her of who she was. If only she was the real Alys, she would stay with Andrew forever, not just for now.

Cait turned her back to Alys. Andrew could never be hers. She was betrothed to another. She would enjoy this dream as much as she could, but eventually she would be forced to wake. In the end she would wed Gavin Patrick, and Andrew would be nothing but a fading memory.

But not yet. She was not yet ready to relinquish her dream.

***

Campbell returned to St. Margaret’s after another unsuccessful day’s search. He followed the faint torchlight of St. Margaret’s like a beacon in an inky black night. Somewhere here was Isabelle. What was she doing now? Where would she go from here? Would he see her tonight?

Campbell shook the treacherous thoughts from his head. Must be lack of sleep breaking down his defenses. Isabelle was not his concern. It was his sister he needed to find. His rage at his sister being abducted had diminished into a gnawing fear for her safety.

With a growing urgency, Campbell quickly stabled his mount with his brothers and strode to the room the nuns had given them to meet. He hoped some of the other men would have good news for him, but one swift look around the table told him different.

Gavin Patrick and his uncle MacLaren sat at a heavy oak table. Neither bothered to look up when he entered. Gavin’s stepfather, Chaumont, leaned on the mantel, his usually lively face grim. Campbell’s brothers Dain, Gill, Finn, and Hamish filed into the room and sat heavily on benches or chairs. They looked something awful.

“Let us examine the map, and see where we have searched and where we have yet to go,” said Campbell.

They spent an hour poring over the map with weary eyes, discussing different theories of what happened to Cait.

“We’ve followed all the tracks of the whoresons who took Cait, but each led to a dead end,” said Campbell, rubbing his aching forehead. “I was hoping ye could tell me where bands of thieves may be hiding.”

“We’ve heard of bands of ruffians roaming these parts, causing mischief of one sort or another,” said MacLaren. “Some attacks have been close to the convent, some to the north. It is not known if it is the same or separate bands.”

“There has also been unrest in Stirling,” added Chaumont.

“I have also heard that McNab to the north has been hiring himself out as protection from bands of ruffians,” said MacLaren. “He could be using the situation to increase his purse, or it could be a plot. I’ve had dealings with him in the past and I dinna trust the cur.”

“What sort o’ plot?” asked Campbell.

“He creates fear in the countryside by robbing and pillaging, and then sells ‘protection’ against his own band of thieves.”

“So we could go out toward town or farther north into the Highlands,” said Campbell. “What do ye think we should do, Gavin?”

Gavin’s head shot up, his wide eyes full of surprise. Campbell sighed. As Cait’s betrothed Gavin had the right to take the lead, but he was young yet. Still, it was proper to ask, and Campbell would do all that was right.

After more discussion they developed a plan of attack for the morn and the men retired to sleeping quarters given them by the nuns. His brothers offered to continue searching through half-closed eyes, but Campbell ordered them to bed. Never had one of his commands been more readily obeyed. They had all pushed beyond the point of exhaustion.

Campbell himself, however, slipped away unnoticed and went to the stables. He would continue to search. Cait was his sister and he would see her safe… no matter the cost.

***

Sleep would not come for Isabelle. She tossed one way, then another. Perhaps it was the simple pallet, or the plain sheets, or the thin blanket. She sat up. It was none of those things. It was Campbell. She was worried about him. Worried he would come find her and drag her back to his castle. Despite the obvious contradiction, she was even more worried she would never see him again, and that fear more than anything kept sleep at bay.

Isabelle got to her feet and paced back and forth in her small cell. So tiny was her room that she could only take a few steps before it was time to turn and go back again, making it a very unsatisfactory place to pace. Perhaps a little fresh night air would do her good. She reluctantly pulled on the torturous wool gown. At least the good sisters had washed and returned her linen chemise so the gown did not itch quite as much. She wrapped a long cloak around her shoulders, and slipped down the narrow, dark corridor and out the heavy oak door into the night.

Isabelle took a deep breath, the cool night air reviving her flagging spirits. Thick mist swirled around her. The moon illuminated the fog, making a half circle in the sky. The pale light reflected in the mist, making it difficult for her to see more than a few feet in front of her.

Isabelle strode off in the direction of the chapel, but soon was engulfed by the mist. After a few minutes of invigorating walking, she began to wonder why she had not found the chapel. She stopped and turned around to get her bearings, but could see nothing but gray blankness. She stopped turning and realized she now had no idea from what direction she had come. Isabelle rolled her eyes. Honestly, getting lost all the time was getting tiresome.

With a shrug of her shoulders, Isabelle was off once more. She knew she was still on the grounds of the convent, so she would simply walk until she found the wall that surrounded them or a building. She had come out for a walk after all, so she should be little concerned by the fact that she was getting one.