Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
Skye didn’t immediately take his hand, but his plea for her to come with him stirred her soul. She knew if he took her with him, she’d slow him down, and yet he still insisted that she come with him.
Finally, she nodded.
He pointed to a horse and carriage standing less than ten yards away. The guards at the courtyard gate were busy warming their hands around a fire, but there were two in the east tower. As Arran and Skye scurried around the castle wall, they were mostly out of sight.
Arran lifted his hand, and Skye stopped and leaned back against the wall, trying to blend into the stones. Arran watched the tower and the guards at the gate. Finally, they crossed the final distance to the carriage, opened the door, and climbed inside.
“Lie on the floor, Skye,” he instructed.
She did as she was told, and he did his best to fold his tall frame into the space that was left. He leaned as far back in the seat as he could.
“Now what?” she whispered.
“Now we wait.”
“Until what? And whose carriage is this?”
“We wait here until the owner of this carriage leaves. We’ll ride out the front gate.”
Skye frowned. “What if he sees us?”
But before Arran could answer, the horns blared—their escape was discovered.
“Man the gates! MacArthur and the Laird’s daughter have escaped. Nae one enters, and nae one leaves!” Arran heard a man shout.
Skye, from her awkward position on the floor of the small carriage, looked up at him and threw up her hands as if to say, Now what?
He motioned for her to wait.
Arran listened closely to the activity outside the carriage—guards reporting on their fruitless search of the castle, others being sent to examine the surrounding buildings. Blackwell shouted orders to every available man or woman to search lands surrounding the castle.
An hour passed. His neck and back ached from lying in the small seat.
“When I find them, I want Arran Gilroy punished, Magnus!” he heard Blackwell shout. “He’ll nae make me look like a fool!”
“Well, if ye find them, ye send word, ye hear? This dispute can be settled peacefully. There’s nae need for a feud with the MacArthurs. Ye can settle this without a fight.”
Laird MacKeith grunted in response.
“And ye say he just attacked ye for nary reason? That doesnae make sense. And kidnapped yer daughter?”
“That he did, and I’ve got witnesses that will back up me claims. The man needs to pay for what he’s done.”
The men spoke too quietly for Arran to hear what they said next, and then the carriage tilted to its left side as Magnus climbed up onto the driver’s seat.
Arran looked down at Skye. Her blue eyes were as wide as saucers, and her face had gone as white as the moon during winter.
“The master of the guard!” she mouthed, and he nodded.
Magnus flicked the reins, urging the horse forward. Skye covered her face with her hands, and Arran suspected she was praying. The carriage turned and moved slowly toward the gate.
Almost there…
It was impossible for Arran to sink further into the seat, and he feared he might be seen through the small carriage windows as they passed through the gate.
We’ve come too far to get caught now.
He quickly dropped to the floor and covered Skye with his body. A lap blanket provided cover for them both. He held his breath and hoped it would be enough.
The dim light filtering through the blanket brightened as they left the gates behind.
That told him that they’d made it out, but he didn’t dare sit up now.
And he didn’t want to sit up. Underneath him, he felt the length of Skye’s body and the soft fullness of her breasts as they pressed against his chest. He inhaled sharply and fought the urge to grind his hips into her.
“Cannae… breathe. Arran… I cannae…” she gasped.
“So sorry,” he whispered. Reluctantly, he leaned up to take some of his weight off her and pulled the blanket off her head. “Better?”
“Aye, much, thank ye,” she replied. She turned her head toward the front of the carriage and asked, “Where are we going? How are we going to get out of here?”
Arran barely heard her words. The closeness of their bodies generated heat. His gaze lingered on her flushed cheeks, and each sway of the carriage pushed them closer. Their bodies moved together, connecting each time the carriage hit a stone or a rut in the rough road.
Skye looked into his eyes, and he leaned down, his lips—
Nay!
With a force of will he never knew he possessed, he crawled off of Skye and sat in the seat. He reached down and helped her off the floor, and she grimaced as she stretched her stiff limbs and sat in the seat opposite him.
Her expression was dazed, and Arran wondered if that was the result of their encounter on the floor or just the lack of air. He turned to the front of the carriage and banged his fist on the wall.
“Magnus! It’s me.”
Skye stared at him, wide-eyed and surprised, and then her head turned to the front of the carriage when he continued.
“Dinnae be alarmed, but ye have a stowaway here.”
The carriage came to an abrupt halt. It wobbled a bit as Magnus jumped down from the high driver’s seat, and then the side door flew open.
“Well, I dinnae believe me eyes!” he exclaimed.
Skye gaped at him, bewildered. The enforcer, an older man with mostly gray hair streaked with brown, appeared to be about the same age as her mother. He was smiling, his eyes twinkling. He reached out his hand, and Arran grasped his forearm and clapped him on the shoulder.
Skye looked from Magnus to Arran and then back. “Wait. Do ye ken each other?”
“Of course, lass. MacArthurs are me clan.”
“But why did ye answer Blackwell’s summons if Arran is yer Laird?”
“I serve as high enforcer for the Highland Council. I work for all the clans that I can reach within a few days’ ride.
It’s me duty to make sure the truces and agreements are upheld, and now and then, I have to stop a battle or two.
” Magnus winked at her, gesturing toward Arran.
“I’ve kenned this lad all his life. Pulled him out of many tussles and scrapes, but none as serious as this. ”
His face softened. “I met yer maither, too. She was a kind and generous woman. Too good for the likes of Blackwell if ye ask me. Many were happy that ye left and got Helena out with ye, and I’m nae ashamed to say I was one of them.”
Skye nodded. “Thank ye, Magnus.”
“All right, back in the carriage, ye two. We cannae waste time getting back to Castle MacArthur. I willnae relax until ye are back home, Arran.”
“Ye and I both, Magnus,” Arran agreed.
“I cannae believe we got away,” Skye muttered once they were back in the carriage, before heaving out a sigh.
Arran saw the tension leave her body. The horse settled into a brisk trot, but the road was smooth, and soon they were out of MacKeith territory.
“Was he always like that? Blackwell? Was he always so terrible to ye and yer maither? Our clan never thought much of him after the dispute over me faither buying back the lands, but I never kenned how vile he is.”
“Me faither died when I was fourteen years old. Theirs was a love match, and Maither vowed never to marry another. She did her best on her own for year, of workin’ at whatever she could find, and us goin’ cold and hungry.
Then, as she was cleanin’ stalls at the cattle fair, a man attacked me.
Blackwell stopped him, and persuaded her she needed a protector. So, she married him.”
“Doesnae sound bad. When did things go wrong?”
“I cannae be completely sure. But when she failed to produce an heir, he grew angry. The abuse was mostly threats at first. And then he started hitting her. We learned too late that his four wives before him suffered the same treatment.”
“She could have gone to the council. Wife or nay, mistreatin’ women is nae allowed.”
“She tried. But when she was caught, me stepfaither got worse. And me maither started locking herself up in her chamber most of the time.”
Arran was repulsed, and he barely contained his rage when he asked the next question.
“And ye? Did he treat ye the same?”
“Nay. Oh, he was vicious enough with his taunts and insults. But he never hit me. He said I was too valuable to him to leave a mark and that I was the only thing that kept him from tossing me maither out because I’d be worth all the trouble me maither had brought to him when the time was right.”
Arran shook his head, his blood boiling.
“But what about ye, Arran?” Skye asked, deciding to distract him. “What happens when ye get home and ye dinnae have the deeds in yer hand?”
“I dinnae ken, Skye. It’ll nae be long before the council will appoint a new Laird. If that happens, I cannae guess if I can stay with me kin. The shame will be too great. I have to get the land back, nae matter what.”
“Even if it means sendin’ me back to Blackwell?” she asked hesitantly.
Arran looked at her, but he didn’t answer for several long moments. “Nay,” he said. “I’d nae treat ye so. There must be another way to get our lands back, for I’ll nae willingly put ye back in his power again.”
Then he sighed heavily. “But truth be told, if I lose the lairdship, there might be nothing I can do to defend ye. The council might well send ye back.”
Skye leaned her head back against the leather seat and closed her eyes. Tears leaked from beneath her closed eyelids. Arran felt as if each one of them was a drop of scalding acid dripped upon his heart. But he’d been honest with her. All the tears in the world would not change their situation.
They rode in silence for sometime.
At length, the rocking motion of the carriage lulled them both to sleep.
Skye awoke to Arran gently shaking her shoulder. It had been bright day when she fell asleep, but now it was dusk. She looked out the carriage window. They were traveling up a steep road toward a business-like keep at the top hill.