Chapter 19
CHAPTER 19
A nnabelle's keen ears captured the resounding command of Malcolm as he bellowed for the bandits to prepare for their departure. The urgency in his voice echoed through the night air, stirring her into action.
Quickly, she retreated to her horse, her movements purposeful. Mounting her horse, she positioned herself at the verge of the road, a silent sentinel in the moonlight. She thought quickly about how to leave a trail for Jamie, who hadn’t returned yet. If she had some scissors, she could cut off pieces of the clothing she wore, but it was too thick. As soon as she had that thought, she realized while she couldn’t use her outer clothing, she could use the linen chemise she wore. It would tear easily. Reaching under her top, she pulled the chemise free from the pants and ripped the material, tearing off a piece about one inch in length.
Carefully, she secured the material to a branch along the road, the pale forms luminous in the soft moonlight. Each strip of cloth would be a signal for Jamie to follow.
Soon, the bandits emerged from the depths of the forest, their movements accompanied by the rustling of leaves and the faint clattering of equipment. Annabelle maintained a prudent distance, her silhouette cloaked in the embrace of darkness.
The scent of damp earth and pine trees filled the air as she continued to follow the bandits. Her heart thrummed with tension and determination, the adrenaline surging through her veins like a fierce river. Annabelle continued her pursuit of the bandits as she methodically fastened pieces of cloth to overhanging branches, each one a breadcrumb leading the way for Jamie and his reinforcements.
Then, in a heartbeat, the serenity she felt she’d achieved by keeping her distance shattered. A sudden, boisterous neigh pierced the night, ringing through the woods like a clarion call of treachery. Her heart seized, dread gripping her soul as her own horse responded to the bandit’s horse’s neigh. There was nothing she could do to stop it from happening, and nowhere she could go to hide from the men who now turned, their focus solely on her.
Her thoughts raced as she realized what was happening. The horse the bandit rode had to have recognized her horse’s scent. And the only way that could happen would be if the two horse had at some point shared a stable. Which meant that the most likely candidate was Malcolm's horse, because it would have once shared a stable with her own at Fort Donald. The chilling implications hung in the air like a ghostly specter. Suddenly, the ominous pounding of hooves echoed through the forest. She spun her horse around, her senses heightened, as she urged her horse to gallop back the way they’d come, her heart racing in tandem with the thudding rhythm.
But fate conspired against her, and her desperate escape was cut short. Emerging from the shrouded darkness in front of her came another bandit on horseback. She realized he must have circled around through the trees to get ahead of her and cut her off. He was a looming specter of menace. In the pitch-black of the night, he used his sheathed sword to knock her off her horse, stealing the breath from her as she landed on the ground with a thud. Then he dismounted and moved toward her menacingly. Annabelle's instincts kicked in, and she quickly got to her feet. She would fight with every ounce of her strength. She couldn’t let him win. She wouldn’t.
Annabelle pulled the short sword Jamie had given her a few days before after one of their practice sessions. She still wasn’t proficient at it, but she would give it everything she had. She lunged and struck the man in the arm, but that just served to make him angry. He unsheathed his own weapon and then slammed it into hers, knocking it from her hand with massive force.
Annabelle gasped. The power behind that hit was more than she’d anticipated. She realized Jamie had been taking it easy on her in their practice sessions and if she survived this, she was going to have words with him about it. With the sword gone, she pulled the only other weapon she had, the dirk. She flipped it in her hand and went toward the man like Norman Bates in Psycho and slammed the dirk into his chest, causing him to stumble back in surprise.
Just as she was feeling triumphant, she was grabbed from behind and she lost her hold of the dirk as she was jerked backward. Two massive arms surrounded her holding her tightly as she struggled to break free, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t even use her teeth to bite the guy holding her as he lifted her off her feet and carried her toward the group.
Within seconds he forcibly shoved her into the wooden cage, with Maeve. Her breathing quickened, heart pounding like a trapped bird, as she came face to face with Maeve Campbell, the woman they had risked so much to find.
As she sat there trying to catch her breath, the man she now recognized as Malcolm began to question her, his words sharp and probing. "Who are you, and why are you trailing us?" he demanded.
Annabelle met his gaze with unwavering determination. “I don’t have to tell you anything and I wasn’t trailing you,” Annabelle lied.
“You’re riding a horse from Fort Donald, you’re not alone. No Donald would let a wee lass like you take off with one o’ their horses.” He stared at her, his massive arms crossed over his chest.
“I don’t care what you think. I was just traveling back to the village. I went for a late night ride because I couldn’t sleep. I demand you let me go at once,” Annabelle said defiantly.
“Very well, I’ll believe you were out on your own, as there’s nae sign of any others about, but you’re obviously one o’ them outsiders brought here to marry a Donald, so who is it then? Who are you married to?”
Jamie’s image flashed in front of her eyes, but she refused to name him.
A murmur of disbelief rippled through the bandits, their superstitious minds jumping to conclusions. “I’ve heard tales of the Fae bringin’ women for the Donald Clan but never in all my years thought it to be true,” one of the bandits declared in a hushed and fearful tone.
Annabelle wondered if she could use that fear of the Fae against them, but she wasn’t sure how, so she remained quiet and defiantly stared at Malcolm.
"I asked you whose wife are you?" he inquired again; his tone laced with suspicion.
Annabelle held her head high and declared, "If I were married, I'd be wearing a ring, wouldn't I?" It was a bold response, one she hoped would deflect their scrutiny.
Yet, as she uttered those words, a pang of longing coursed through her. In that tense moment, she wished with all her heart that she could proudly claim Jamie MacDonald as her husband, as he had come to mean more to her than she could have ever imagined, and she hoped she lived long enough to tell him as much.
Malcolm, his lips curling into a sly smile, chose to jest in the face of danger. "Perhaps, lass," he mused, "you're meant for me." His words hung in the air, daring her to challenge him.
But Annabelle, unyielding in her defiance, shot back with fiery determination. "I'd sooner marry the devil himself than marry scum like you, Malcolm MacDonald, you’re a disgrace to the Donald Clan," she retorted, her voice trembling with anger. She punctuated her defiance by spitting in his direction.
Malcolm wiped the spittle from his face and sneered at her. “You’ll regret that, lass,” he replied, his voice laced with anger. He spun on his heel and shouted. “Mount up. We’ve a journey ahead of us.” He glanced at Annabelle, his eyes narrowed. “I don’t know who you’re meant for, lass, and I don’t care, but you’ll watch them bleed at the end of my sword as me and my men conquer Fort Donald and take the leadership from my cousin’s cold dead hand.”
One of the bandits, a burly figure with a scar across his cheek, dared to speak up. "Malcolm, you said this last time, and we ended up in the midst of chaos. Are you sure this is how you want to do this?"
Malcolm's eyes narrowed as he regarded the man who had dared to question him. "Aye, Douglas," he hissed, "I've a plan. We shall slip through the shadows, strike when they least expect it, and Fort Donald will fall like a house of cards."
Annabelle, who had been listening intently from her concealed position, couldn't help but marvel at the audacity of their ambition. There would be nothing left of Fort Donald if she didn’t find a way to free herself and Maeve from these lunatics and hand her over to the Campbells, so they’d know that the actual Donald Clan wasn’t behind the murders or Maeve’s kidnapping.
To get free she was going to have to find a way to outwit Malcolm MacDonald. She also made note that these men he was commanding weren’t completely loyal to Malcolm and seemed to be doubting his leadership. Maybe she could find a way to use that.