Chapter 12 #11
Ella looked at her friend. They had grown so close over the past few weeks that she sometimes forgot Mairi still knew nothing about her past. And she was kind enough not to ask. “No, I’ve never seen him before today. You’re probably right. I am still a stranger here.”
Mairi shivered. She would not say so to Ella, because she didn’t want to frighten her, but the look on McInnes’s face did not bode well to her.
She did not think Ella was at all aware of how beautiful she was; how attractive to men, especially with her full beasts, small waist, and softly rounded bottom.
Men would do ridiculous things to possess a woman like Ella.
Had she perhaps never seen a mirror? The McInnes had been looking at her like an object he saw and was determined to take, one way or another.
They stayed there visiting until it began to grow dark and they had to return to their tent.
At the MacKenzie camp, a big fire had been lit, and a number of the men were sitting near it on upturned logs, passing a flask of whiskey and telling tall tales.
She scanned the faces, but Ceann was not among them.
Maggie saw them returning and scolded them into their tent, telling then they’d be ill if they didn’t rest after such a long journey, and then the festivities on the morrow.
Giggling, they crawled into their bed rolls.
Mairi fell asleep almost instantly, but Ella lay awake for a long time.
Even after the music stopped, and the voices died down, her blood still thrummed with excitement.
She wanted to be out in the night, not encased in a stuffy tent.
Mairi snored softly beside her, and she began to wonder where Ceann had gone.
She had not seen him since shortly after they arrived.
Not that she saw him every evening at Tulloch, but things felt different here, among so many strangers.
A sudden thought occurred to her. What if he was with a woman?
Maybe even now he was renewing an old love…
Her stomach pitched uncomfortably. So this was what jealousy felt like.
It was not a pleasant feeling, no wonder Ceann had lost his temper the other day in her room.
She could not rid herself of the disconcerting thought no matter how hard she tried.
She knew that he was not likely to be with someone, given all that he had said, but then maybe he had only meant he wouldn’t marry.
Maybe he still fulfilled his other needs with willing women.
How strange that the thought had never even occurred to her until now.
She lay awake still, stewing, until she thought she would surely go mad if she didn’t know one way or another.
She peered carefully out of the tent. The fires had all burned down to coals, but she could see by the moonlight that all the men had either gone to their tents or fallen asleep where they sat.
There was only the sound of their snores, and the faint wail of a restless bairn from another camp across the lea.
She crept barefoot and silent to Ceann’s tent, and listened at the entrance.
Hearing nothing, she lifted the flap just slightly and looked in.
He was there, alone. She breathed out her relief; feeling like a leaden weight had been lifted from her chest. He was sleeping, and the moonlight shone through the white fabric of the tent so that she could see his face.
He looked… different in his sleep. His features were relaxed from their usual grim scowl, and he looked almost peaceful, except for his hand resting lightly on the handle of his sword, ever-ready for battle.
Her heart squeezed tight in her chest. She wanted to go over and touch him, smooth the waves of chestnut hair that had fallen over his cheek, and aye, kiss his slightly parted lips, and stretch her body out along side his.
She wavered. She almost went to him. But she lost her courage, and instead reluctantly let the flap of the tent fall softly closed and tiptoed back to her bed. This time, she slept.
The next morning Ella opened her eyes to find the day had started without her.
Already there was a clamor of activity outside, and the smell of smoke and the mealy scent of cooking porridge wafted in.
She and Mairi rose quickly and ran down to the river to wash.
Maggie, who had probably been up for hours already, handed them each a bowl of porridge before going off for a rare visit with her sister, who had years ago married into a neighboring clan.
After all had eaten and prepared, it was time for the games to begin.
The pipes began to play, and everyone gathered at the edges of the gaming field, the crowd thrumming with anticipation, the excitement contagious.
Ella sat on a wool blanket to watch with Mairi and Elizabeth and a few other women who held wiggling bairns on their laps.
They were on a small rise, so even though they were farther from the field than most, they had a good view; Mairi wanted to be sure to see her Robbie when he took the field.
Elizabeth declared it didn’t matter because she never could watch when her husband Donnie was fighting.
She just shut her eyes and waited until it was over, then patched him up as best she could.
Ella watched the first part of the games without too much interest; she’d never been all that fond of sport.
Instead she idly wove a necklace for one of the children out of long stems of grass.
But when the fighting began with the clash of swords echoing and the crowd cheering, she sat up and took more notice.
She was terrified that someone would be seriously hurt, but at the same time enthralled by the skill and brute strength of the men wielding the weapons.
When Ethan appeared on the field, she held her breath, afraid to keep her eyes open as he fought.
If anything happened to Ethan… In some ways he reminded her of Malcolm, like an older brother, and Ethan, she knew, wanted happiness for Ceann.
She wanted that too. At the cheer of the crowd she finally let out the breath she had been holding in a sigh of relief. He had won.
That relief was not to last long, as a moment later Laird McInnes strode on to the field, standing still with his sword raised high in the air until the crowd had quieted. His words cut her to the quick.
“I challenge you, Ceann MacKenzie, to a contest, your lovely captive as the prize!” The crowd roared with laughter and cheers, and more than a few bawdy remarks. Ella realized her mouth had dropped open and abruptly closed it.
She turned to Mairi, incredulous, and whispered, “Does he mean me?”
Mairi had a grim look on her face. “Aye, he does.”
“Oh, well Ceann doesn’t have to fight him then, because I won’t go with the McInnes. He can’t just win me.”
Once again, Mairi found herself eyeing her new friend speculatively, wondering where exactly she had grown up, that she didn’t know such simple things.
“Aye, he can win you, the laird hasn’t claimed you, you’re just a…
well, a captive. Now, by his honor, he has to fight.
He can’t lose face, especially not in front of everyone here”, she swept her hand across the crowd.
“Some of the most powerful clans in the highlands are here. If our laird won’t fight and show his strength, they’ll assume they can take anything they want from us. ”
“Oh.” Ella’s face fell. She turned back to the field, and this time she kept her eyes open and could not tear them away.
Ceann was more than annoyed. No, he was furious.
How dare McInnes call him out like this!
It was an old grudge that made him do so, and the grudge was against his father at that; it had nothing to do with him.
The man was shameless. And vile. Worse, he thought to take Ella away from him, all to spite a man who no longer even lived.
He never should have brought her here, she was far too beautiful.
And charming. Already he had been approached at least twenty times by men who wanted to take her off his hands.
He should have locked her in the tower at Tulloch and left her there.
Then he thought of Colin and groaned. He couldn’t have left her, either.
His temper flaring, he took the field, glaring at his opponent.
They were fairly evenly matched, Ceann thought, both tall and well muscled. But there was no way in hell he was going to lose this fight. There was no way in hell McInnes would ever have Ella, that damned old viper.
No one will take her from me!
The signal came. Ceann growled and lunged forward with all his might.
McInnes blocked the blow and thrust at Ceann from the side.
The clash of metal could hardly be heard above the deafening roar of the crowd as the two men fought.
Ceann heard nothing at all, he was focused only on the man he had to best. He whirled away from the next blow and thrust again, the point of his sword catching McInnes in the side.
The wound was shallow, but McInnes roared in anger and redoubled his efforts.
On his next lunge, he caught Ceann on the arm with the side of his blade, leaving a thin gash that oozed red.
“She’s mine, now, MacKenzie”, he said in a low voice. “I’ll have her in my bed this very night.”
Those taunting words were his downfall. Ceann reacted with a vicious strength, growling in rage as he flew forward, knocking the other man’s sword out of his hand, and kicking him to the ground in the same motion. He stood over him, his sword point resting against his chest.
“No, I don’t think so”, he said between harsh breaths.