Chapter 2 #2
“It’s Dunefall. If we ride north and ignore any distractions, we should find the elusive Sorcha and her maither.”
Douglas laughed. “So, this is what it is to think like a woman. Who’d have thought it of ye Lyle! Should we be checkin’ ye out next time ye visit the jakes?”
“Me parts be as manly as any ye have, Dougie. I have six sisters back home. But it doesnae take havin’ female relatives to figure this out. All ye need is an understandin’ of how scary the world is after dark when ye’re armed with naythin’ fiercer than a fryin’ pan.”
Colin, one of Blackwell’s men spoke up. “That’s the God’s own truth. And the marshes be a fearful place by night, even for a fullgrown man. Why, I’ve a mind to tell ye a tale. . .”
Arran, tuning out their banter, turned his horse and trotted north. And Lyle was right. It wasn’t long before he saw two women carrying sacks, walking ahead. He slowed his horse to a walk and then stopped. Neither woman turned around.
He dismounted and yelled, “Ye there! Stop!”
The figure on the right turned and replied pleasantly, “Aye, what do ye need, Laird MacArthur? Are ye or either of yer men hurt?”
Arran almost rolled his eyes. “Nay, Sorcha. We dinnae need help. Or should I call ye Skye?”
The only emotion that flashed across her face was confusion. “Skye?” she echoed. “I dinnae ken who ye’re speaking of. Me name is Sorcha, and this is me maither, Helena. As ye ken, I am a healer, and we are traveling to Dunefall. There’s a woman in hard labor, and I cannae be delayed.”
Arran was impressed by how convincing she was. “So, this is Helena, yer bedridden maither? She doesnae look like she’s ailing to me.”
Skye’s confident facade faltered. “Uh… well, she has good days and bad days. This is a good one.”
“Enough with the lies. Stop the act, Skye. I ken who ye are. And that is Helena—I can tell by the scar.” Arran spoke those last words less gruffly. He winced inwardly. It was a nasty scar. A hair’s breadth lower and she would have lost the eye.
What man would hit a woman?
Reluctantly, he walked over to Helena and gently took her hands in his. “Lady MacKeith, I dinnae wish to harm ye. Please dinnae resist. I willnae bind yer hands if ye promise nae to run or resist.”
Helena nodded, accepting her fate.
Before he turned back around, he heard Skye’s voice, desperate but determined. “Step away from her, Arran Gilroy!”
She darted behind him, and he felt a small dirk digging into his back.
Lyle and Douglas stepped forward, both ready to assist their Laird if needed, but Arran motioned for them to step back.
“Ye are very brave, Skye, but I’m nae sure ye’ve planned yer next move very well.”
“Release me maither, ye insufferable clod!”
“Now, that I willnae do, lass,” he replied softly. “For ye see, I cannae go back to Blackwell without her.”
“But ye ken his character, and ye ken he doesnae want her for love or duty. There’s nary a loving, honorable bone in his sorry body!”
“Ye are right, Skye, but there’s more than ye ken. I must take ye and Helena back to Laird MacKeith. Even if ye kill me now, ye willnae be able to escape. Colin, Douglas and Lyle will finish what I started, and they will take ye both to Blackwell.”
Skye’s eyes flickered from him to the road ahead and back, clearly searching for an escape. A long moment passed, and Arran kept his men at bay and allowed her to think. Finally, she broke the silence.
“Arran Gilroy, I want to make a deal.” Helena gasped, but Skye continued.
“I’ll let ye to take me to Laird MacKeith, but ye let me maither return to Braewall.
Tell his lairdship that she perished in the bog – which will be the truth if ye do nae send someone back with her, for she’s stayed close within our cot. ”
Arran heard the desperation in her voice, and he wasn’t unaffected. “Remove yer blade from me back, and I will hear ye out.”
Skye paused for only a second, knowing that her mother could not escape these three men. She stood a chance if she ran, but Helena was not fast enough. So, she stepped back from his broad, strong back and tried not to sound like she was begging.
“I’ll come with ye willingly if ye promise to take me maither back to our home in Braewall.”
“Nay, Skye!” Helena implored. “I willnae go along with this!” she said to Arran.
Skye stepped up to her mother and wrapped her arms around her. Arran wasn’t able to hear all the words she whispered in her ear, but he heard her promise to return someday.
He felt the love between mother and daughter, and his heart ached.
Colin stepped forward. “I’ll take her back, Laird MacArthur. Every man, woman, and child heared Lady Helena’s screams that last night he beat her. Aye, and I’ll put it about that she perished in the swamp.”
Skye regarded Colin steadily. “So, it was ye I heard in the corridor,” she said.
Colin dipped his head in acknowledgement. “And it was me that led the men about the castle until I kent ye’d made it to the forest wall. But then I had nay choice but to give the alarm that ye’d escaped.”
Skye knitted her brows for a moment. Then she asked the very question that was niggling at Arran. “Why?”
“Because me Aunt Mary is the head cook in the kitchen, and she’d told me plain I was to look the other way.
She said it would go ill with me if I daenae.
I daenae believin’ in it mind, but me maither always said that Aunt Mary had the sight.
And because it wrung me heart sore to hear the lady cryin’ out. ”
Arran did not ask why the young guard did not interfere. It would have meant his life had he touched his laird in any way, even if only to restrain him.
Lyle helped Helena, who’d started crying, up onto Colin’s horse and Colin climbed up behind her.
“Dinnae make me regret me decision, lass. I’m taking a risk by letting her go, ye ken?” Arran said gruffly.
He wondered if this act of mercy would prove to be a huge mistake if MacKeith discovered his trickery. He started to formulate a plausible story in his mind to tell Laird MacKeith, but Skye’s sobs pulled him out of his thoughts.
As she watched them ride away, tears streamed down her face, but once her mother was out of sight, she looked up at her captor with a glare that was an odd combination of anger and hopelessness.
Arran mounted his horse and reached down a hand to help her climb up.
She jutted her chin, her eyes flashing. “I’d rather nae,” she hissed.
“Well, ye cannae walk the entire distance, lass. That will take two days, maybe more.”
“Precisely,” she replied. “What makes ye think I want to get there any sooner than I have to?”
“And what makes ye think that ye have a say in the matter, Skye?” Arran retorted in a tone that gave her pause. “Either take me hand, or I will throw ye belly down across me saddle. Either way, ye are mounting this horse now.”