Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Ignoring Jamie’s
look of fury, Ian strode forward and caught Lindsey’s hand,
bringing it to his lips. “I regret that I was too late to save you
myself, my lady.”
“Too late?” Jamie’s eyes narrowed with sudden
fury.
“Aye,” Douglas interjected. “Robbie and Neal
met Ian on the journey back to camp. It seems Ian had been
searching all the night for our Lindsey. In fact, he saw the men
who captured her.”
“Did you now? And you never sounded an
alarm?” Jamie’s hands clenched and unclenched at his sides.
“I had hoped to take them by surprise.” Ian
tore his gaze from Lindsey long enough to reply. “As I explained to
Douglas and his sons, I was intent upon securing the lady’s freedom
quickly and easily. When I saw the horses disappearing into the
forest, I took up my sword and followed as swiftly as
possible.”
“You could have been killed,” Lindsey
protested. “You had no way of knowing there were only two of
them.”
“Two or two score and ten, it mattered not,
my lady. I gave no thought to my own safety. My only thought was
that I must save you from those villains.”
“A single shout would have awakened the
entire camp and alerted all to Lindsey’s peril.” Jamie took a
menacing step closer, his hands curled into fists. “It would have
been a simple matter for our entire company to overpower her
abductors.”
“Alas,” Ian said, shrugging his shoulders, “I
realize now that. I was misguided. But my mind was clouded by the
danger to the lady. My only thought was to stop the villains and
save the lady Lindsey.”
“If, as you said, you were close on their
trail, how did you not locate them before we did?” Jamie
demanded.
“I must have lost them when they crossed the
river. I hid myself until they disappeared into the forest. But
when I tried to follow, I became lost in a maze of trails.”
“Odd,” Jamie mused aloud, “that we were able
to find them, even though we were far behind you. And even stranger
that we did not come upon you in the forest.”
Ian turned, ignoring Jamie’s taunts, to give
Lindsey a brilliant smile. “Aye. But at least we are all safely
together now.”
Jamie glanced from Douglas to his sons in
disbelief. Surety they did not accept this story as truth. Were
they all blind? Or worse, addled?
“I do not believe you.” Jamie’s words were
spoken in dangerously icy tones.
Everyone in the camp went silent. Murray and
Donald exchanged knowing looks. Neal and Robbie appeared nervous
and agitated, glancing quickly toward their father for
guidance.
Lindsey’s eyes went wide. Stepping close to
Jamie she reached out a hand to him, as if to silence his words,
but he fixed her with a cold look, causing her to pull her hand
away.
“Do you call me a liar?” Ian’s gaze darted
from Jamie to Lindsey, then back to Jamie.
“Aye.” Jamie touched a hand to the sword at
his waist. “Step away, Lindsey,” he commanded softly.
“Nay. You must not do this, Jamie.” She cast
a pleading look in her father’s direction.
Seeing the fire in Jamie’s eyes, Douglas
moved quickly to diffuse his anger. “I understand your mistrust,
Jamie. We voiced the same questions as you. But Ian has put all our
fears to rest. He carries a missive from the queen, attesting that
he journeys to Holyrood at her bidding. Surely one who has the
trust of our queen must have our trust as well.”
Jamie’s gaze never left Ian’s face. “I would
read this missive.”
With a smug look Ian reached into his tunic
and withdrew a rolled parchment. Handing it to Jamie he said with a
sneer, “I hope the Heartless MacDonald can read.”
Jamie unrolled the parchment and studied the
words, then carefully scrutinized the queen’s seal. He handed it
back without a word.
Ian’s voice was a low challenge. “I await
your apology.”
Jamie fixed him with a chilling look. “You
will receive my apology only when we reach Holyrood and hear this
from the queen’s own lips.”
Everyone in camp seemed shocked.
“You would question the queen’s seal upon
this missive?”
“Nay, only the manner in which you acquired
this parchment.” Jamie deliberately turned his back on Ian
MacPherson and said to Douglas Gordon, “We take our leave of this
place within the hour, my lord. Prepare your men to ride.”
The old man glanced at his daughter and
thought sadly about the joyful reunion he had planned. “I had hoped
we could take a day to rest and feast my daughter’s safe return
before resuming our journey. She has been through so much.”
Jamie’s lingering anger caused his words to
be harsher than he intended. “And our queen has been through much
more. ’Twas your decision to bring the female along on this
dangerous mission, my lord. Our queen has need of us. We have
tarried long enough.”
Seeing the remorse on her father’s face,
Lindsey stepped between the old man and Jamie. The look she shot
Jamie was filled with fury. To her father she murmured, “Do not
fret. I am well rested and strong enough to ride.” She turned to
include Jamie as she muttered, “And, like my lord MacDonald, I am
most eager to leave this place.”
Giving him one last furious look, Lindsey
hurried away to change her gown and prepare for the journey looming
before them.
Douglas watched as Jamie’s gaze followed his
daughter. Then he turned and gave the order to his men that they
should prepare to ride.
* * *
Jamie drove their small band unmercifully.
For the next two days they were up at dawn and riding hard until
dusk. Four men took turns watching the camp each night while the
others slept. Jamie refused to allow Ian to join those who watched.
He made no secret of his intense distrust of the man.
At night, as they sat around the fire, Jamie
kept to himself. While the others spoke in muted tones, he mended
harness, tended to his horse or sharpened his weapons.
Often, as he worked, he watched Ian
MacPherson seated by the fire, regaling the young Neal and Robbie
with stories of his adventures. The young, impressionable lads hung
on every word spoken by the man who carried a missive from their
queen. In their eyes he had become an adventurer, a hero.
When Lindsey joined the group around Ian,
Jamie found himself honing the blade of his sword with a vengeance,
until it was razor sharp. The lilt of Lindsey’s laughter seemed to
mock him. The husky sound of her voice on the night air only added
to his misery. All in their company, it would seem, had taken Ian
MacPherson to their bosom.
With a sense of sadness Lindsey watched Jamie
as he drove himself and the others. During the day he led them
silently through the treacherous Highlands, watching always for any
sign of the band of villains that had escaped. When they made camp
he worked long into the night, until the others were asleep. Often,
before dawn, he was joining the men who guarded their camp.
Did he never rest? Worse, did he never
question his righteous attitude? Even though she harbored similar
questions about Ian MacPherson, Lindsey was willing to wait until
they reached Holyrood to make a judgment. But Jamie’s mind had
already hardened against the stranger. And once his decision had
been made, he refused to back down.
She missed Jamie, she realized with a shock.
Though their conversations had often been stilted and awkward, they
had, in their short time together, begun to enjoy and respect each
other’s company. As she listened to yet another of Ian MacPherson’s
flamboyant stories, she experienced a deep yearning for Jamie’s
calm tones and quiet humility. She found Ian’s boastful stories
tiresome. Whatever titles and honors had been bestowed upon the
Heartless MacDonald, they had truly been won upon the battlefield.
The rumors that abounded about him were spread by men who feared or
respected him, and not by his own inflated sense of pride.
She studied Jamie’s shadowy silhouette,
nearly swallowed up by the dark shape of trees around him. Getting
to her feet she left the fire and made her way to where he worked
over his horse’s swollen hoof.
He looked up as she drew near, then lowered
his head and continued working as though she did not exist.
He had stripped off his tunic and shirt and
the muscles of his arms and shoulders rippled as he bent to his
task. Despite the coolness of the evening, sweat beaded his brow. A
lock of hair had fallen across his forehead, and Lindsey had to
fight the urge to brush it away.
“It is late to be working.”
“Aye.” He did not bother to glance up. “But
the work never ends.”
She crossed her arms beneath her breasts and
studied him. “So it would seem.”
He leaned in to the horse, lifting its hoof
as he applied a poultice.
Lindsey studied Jamie’s muscled thigh,
straining against the fabric of his breeches. Suddenly her throat
went dry and she was forced to swallow. Before she could think she
blurted, “You avoid my family.”
“Nay, my lady.” He lowered the horse’s leg,
then wiped his hands on his breeches before glancing at her. “This
has naught to do with you or your family.”
“Ian MacPherson then. You avoid us because of
Ian.”
“Aye.” He turned and began walking toward a
small stream that glistened in the moonlight. On the banks he knelt
and plunged his arms into the cool water. Following several steps
behind, Lindsey watched as he splashed water over his face and
chest.
“Can you not wait until we reach Edinburgh to
judge him? Or does the Heartless MacDonald not even heed the word
of his queen?”
Pressing a square of linen to his face, he
dried himself. Lindsey stared in fascination as he ran the linen
over his chest and arms.
“I am more than willing to offer my hand to
Ian MacPherson, should the queen declare him to be what be claims.
If, however, he is the liar I think him to be, it will not be my
hand but my sword he faces.”
“Do you really believe that one of my
abductors would return to my father’s camp and risk his wrath?”
Jamie crushed the linen as his hand formed a