Chapter 13
Colleen was lying on the icy flagstone floor. What was the point of trying to shake the iron railings or rattle the lock? There was no hope of escape. After smelling the rank pile of straw heaped in one corner, she knew the floor would be the cleanest part of the cell to lie down on. At first, she had curled up into a tight ball in the corner, trying to make out shapes in the dark, but it was useless. The dank blackness stayed the same whether her eyes were wide open or shut tight.
The steady drip, drip of water was enough to drive her crazy. The blow on her head had stunned her, but it had not been enough to knock out her senses. She had been aware of her brother binding her legs and wrists. He had signaled with the lantern at the gate, and a cart and horse came into the yard to carry her away.
Rolling around on the cart bed like a sack of turnips, Colleen had begged the two men from the MacKenzie clan to help her sit up. They were decent men and helped her to straighten upright and lean against the cart side, but they had told her it was more than their lives’ worth to set her free. So step by step, she was taken closer to the man, Laird Torquil MacKenzie, who had tried to mount her like a frisky mare the day before.
Laird MacKenzie had come racing into the courtyard when the news was brought to him that the fair healer maid was once again in his power. Beaming at her bedraggled face, he crowed. “I have missed ye, lassie! Oh-ho! Did ye think ye could escape me? Thanks to yer dear brither, ye will make me a bonny wench. And who knows? If ye behave yerself, I might marry ye.”
She recognized that greedy look on his face and despaired.
“How long did Captain Ewan say it would take for him to capture the Immortal of the Talisman, lads?” he asked the cart men. They shook their heads and shrugged, but this was not enough to dampen Torquil’s good mood. “Oh well, it will nae hurt her to wait a wee while in the dungeons. Take her away.”
With darkness all around her, she found it easy to summon up an image of the mercenary in her mind. Biting her lip to distract from the throbbing lump on her head, Colleen allowed her thoughts to wander…that day by the burn near the woods, lying in the grass surrounded by daisies. Birds singing in the tree branches as he kissed her from the tips of her toes all the way up to her mouth. How they would whisper secrets to one another with their lips touching so that she could feel his warm breath and the roughness of his beard bristles. The stories of his long life thrilled her as he murmured tales of his adventures in her ear and against her cheek. Then, as his mouth drifted back down her body, lingering between her thighs, she would beg him to mount her, take her, and delight her…
The rapture when she felt that rigid penetration. How wonderful it was to know the artful slow grinding of his hips had the power to make her hold her breath and then scream out loud as her passion released in ever increasing peaks of pleasure. “Arran,” she loved to say his name. It brought her comfort. The mercenary had changed her life in such a significant way that even if she were to die anon, Colleen knew that she would be dying as a woman who was deeply in love.
The sound of footsteps on the stairs was so loud, they echoed and rumbled like thunder as Colleen sat up with her images melting back into the dark.
“Colleen?” It was Arran’s voice! Sobbing with relief, she replied. “I am here, love.”
Two guards flanked him on either side. The torch one of them was holding nearly blinded her, so Colleen had to close her eyes. She heard Arran command the guards to light the torch in the dungeon sconce before they left. Without question, they obeyed him. Even in chains, Arran was not the sort of man to be ignored. When Colleen opened her eyes again, the cell was bathed in warm light.
Crawling to the steel bars of the door, she pressed her face against it. “Arran? Are ye alright?” Her imprisonment had made her forget that nothing could hurt him. All Colleen cared about was her lover and her sister. Even in her desperate state, his deep voice still had the power to thrill her. “Isla is fine. I sent her to the village. They will put the clues together. I asked yer brither if I could set the animals free before we left. When the Tavishes see the goats wandering in the roads with full udders, they will sound the alert.”
Giving a sob, Colleen reached her hand out and fumbled for him on the other side of the wall. When she felt his strong fingers touch her, she calmed down. He was with her. He gave her hope.
“What a touching scene,” one of the guards laughed, elbowing his comrade in the ribs. “Do ye think yon Highlander is man enough to tup her through the bars?”
The other guard laughed loud and long, slapping his knees with mirth. “I’d pay good money to see that. That bonny brown-haired wench would nae be here if she was nae fond of spreading her legs.”
Arran growled and sprang forward to the gate. Even with the bars to protect them, the guards got a fright. Gathering up their shields and spears, they left quickly.
They spent some time talking about Ewan and Torquil. “They are canny, I’ll give them that,” Arran growled. “But I cannae forgive Ewan for entrapping ye. He sees himself as the next laird, because MacKenzie only has daughters from the previous wives.”
Exhausted from her worries, Colleen gave a short laugh. “The only thing that drives me brither is money. And the only thing driving MacKenzie is lust. What a pretty pair the two of them make.”
“Wheesht, lass,” Arran hushed her, stroking her hand with his fingers. “Try and sleep. Where there is life, there is always hope.”
Some of whatArran had said to Ewan had trickled into the young man’s heart. While Ewan was not prepared to leave Laird Torquil’s power and influence entirely, he did not want to burn in hell forever either!
Approaching the dais in the great hall to give the laird his report, he decided to bring up the subject of his eldest sister’s capture.
“I want to order the men to draw up the bridge, Laird. Me youngest sister, Isla, told me the villagers are armed to the teeth and skilled in the art of war. The last thing we want is for a crowd of angry, pitchfork-holding villagers to storm the castle.”
Torquil laughed so hard he nearly fell off his chair. All of the courtiers and ladies tittered behind their hands. Even the laird’s three spoiled spinster daughters joined in the hilarity. For as long as anyone could care to remember, Aberkin and its surrounding farms had been populated by weaklings and ruled over by a cowardly old laird. “Ye should be a court jester, young Ewan! As if those wee mice could ever manage to find the courage to confront me in my own castle. At any time since their auld laird cocked up his toes, the villagers of Aberkin could have stormed MacKenzie keep or set up watchmen along the roads to safeguard them, but they have never. I dinnae respect those folks who allow stronger men to trample over them.”
“But that was before the Aberkin council hired the mercenary.” Ewan whispered under his breath. Treading lightly over a delicate topic, Ewan reminded the laird that he had almost one and a half dozen less soldiers now than before. “The castle walls are short of men. The lads who came to join us as paying soldiers are not fully trained yet. The situation is…delicate, Laird.”
Torquil grunted. “We have the magic mercenary in oor dungeons. He’s the only person I wish to concern meself with right now.”
Seizing his chance, Ewan said what was on his mind. “Er…aboot me sister, Laird. I dinnae like the idea of her being left to freeze in the dungeons. Might we invite her into the hall? She will make a reluctant bride if she never gets to see yer better nature.”
Some of the younger maidens began to listen. Because Torquil was so intensely disliked throughout the Highlands, no laird would propose his daughter or sister as a match for the MacKenzie clan chieftain. Many of the castle women were keen for the laird to choose another wife and each one hoped it would be them. He might be middle-aged and fond of lewdness, but Torquil MacKenzie was still a laird at the end of the day. But when Ewan ordered the guards to bring Colleen into the great hall, their hopes sank.
Even with her hair and clothes bedraggled, the Cunningham girl was lovelier than could ever be imagined.
Her long brown hair twirled in soft ringlets down her back and her amber eyes flashed with anger like bright lightning. “I’m surprised to see ye all assembled here,” Colleen scoffed. “I would have thought ye would be knocking on innocent villagers’ gates to see who else ye could kidnap and drag here.”
It was clear that Torquil had eyes for no one else. The memory of her pale body was imprinted on his mind. The laird was entranced by her spirit and lusted for the chance to see those amber eyes widen with pleasure as he rammed himself into her. “I dinnae want to mount a bucking mare,” Laird Torquil announced. “Well, Fair Maid, what will it take for ye to welcome me into yer arms?”
Ewan knew his sister too well. Before she could moisten her mouth enough to spit at the laird, he stepped in. “If ye would parlay with me, Laird, I will make sure me sister does yer bidding. She is spirited, sure, but she is nae stupid.” Going to stand next to Colleen, Ewan hissed in her ear. “If ye do as I say and act sweet, I will see to it that yer lover gets well treated. Do we have an agreement?”
Narrowing her eyes as she glanced at him, Colleen was suspicious. “I dinnae care what happens to me. Just promise me that ye will protect Isla. And…make sure yon laird o’ yers does nae get any vengeful thoughts about beheading Arran. I dinnae ken if he can survive that.”
Nodding briefly, Ewan approached the dais again. “Colleen will come meekly to yer bed, Laird, but she has a few conditions that must be met first— and so do I.”
Laird Torquil nodded to show he was listening, so after taking a deep breath, Colleen’s brother began to speak. “I am nae highborn, Laird, but I am loyal. If I help ye conquer Aberkin and marry me sister, I want ye to make me laird over Aberkin village. I’ll collect the taxes for ye and train an army ye can call upon to serve ye if ever the castle is attacked. All I want in return is yer support for me claim when we stand in front o’ the King.”
No one was surprised to hear Ewan’s list of demands. He was an ambitious young man and a shrewd soldier. “Anything else?” the laird wanted to know. Darting a look at his sister, Ewan continued. “All Colleen wants in return for her good behavior in the bedchamber is for ye to treat the mercenary fairly. Not one drop of his blood must be spilt. And ye must allow me to look after Isla, my youngest sister when I am in charge of Aberkin Castle.”
Laird Torquil’s face was unreadable as he smiled, signaling for Ewan to step forward. “We have a deal, ye young whelp.” Beckoning two guards to step forward, the laird told them to take Colleen through to his bedchamber. She did not complain. Her bargaining was done. The only two people she cared the most about would be safe.
Ewan hid the look of frustration on his face as the two guards took Colleen away. The men should be standing lookout on the battlements instead of being posted on door duty. But he bit his tongue because, finally, it seemed as if all of his wishes were coming true.
“Perhaps we can take some time to call a priest to wed ye to Colleen first, Laird?” Ewan prompted Torquil’s memory. “Ye need a bride, and me sister is unmatched in beauty and grace. She is also a skilled healer, having been taught by the wise woman in our village.”
Torquil pretended not to hear him. “A healer. Aye, that reminds me. I need ye to go fetch the auld crone, Dam Bel, and bring her to me, lad. I need to consult her aboot a few things.”
Pulling himself to his full height, Ewan replied. “I am a soldier, Laird, not a messenger. We banished Dam Bel Cowrie, to the cottage in the woods yonder. She is nay wise woman. She is a witch.”
The grin on Torquil’s face grew wider. “Exactly. I need to consult with a witch. I want to learn the secret of the mercenary’s immortality. Find the witch, bring her here, and then go to the dungeon and get the Highlander. Even if I have to torture him, I will find out the secret to his magic!”
Ewan Cunningham saw the promise he made to his sister slowly slipping out of his grasp. Still, he would not let go of his pride. “Send one of the pageboys or an apprentice to get the crone. I am not a messenger or a foot servant!”
“Ye want to be laird of Aberkin? Then do as I say, Ewan. I will only marry yer sister and make ye a laird if ye help me join the Immortal Brethren of the Talisman!” Torquil sneered. He knew he had Ewan in the palm of his hand. No other castle dweller would help him cast a black magic spell. They were too afraid.
Some of the ladies began to shuffle out of the great hall and many of the men muttered something about going to bed early or nipping down to the stables to feed the horses. The servants who were standing by suddenly found an urgent task they needed to do in the kitchens. They wanted to be no part of casting spells or torturing a man just to squeeze a confession out of him.
Soon it was just Ewan and Torquil alone in the hall. “Are ye going to help me?” the laird asked.
Reluctantly, Ewan bowed and backed himself out of the room.
Colleen did not trusta single person inside MacKenzie Castle. As much as she hated Laird Torquil, she knew it would be easier to escape from the laird’s bedchamber than it would be from the dungeons, that was why she agreed to go quietly. Paying attention to every passage and room the guards dragged her past, she made a note of each window and open ramparts.
MacKenzie Castle was a defensive stronghold when it was ready for war or siege, but with the drawbridge down and the shutters open, the structure was more like a leaky bucket full of holes. Thinking that she was a delicate young woman who must be treated gently, all the guards did with Colleen when they reached the bedchamber was push her inside and bolt the door from the outside. Pressing her ear against the door panels, Colleen heard the men’s steps fading back down the passage. Going to the window and looking out, she saw the loch and forest stretching in front of her. To the left, a narrow lane twisted toward Kennet, the closest village, and behind that were the fields.
As she looked, the tower bell rang nine times, telling her that it was nine bells after noontime. It would be twilight soon. The sun set later that far north at the end of August month. She could see the Kennet villagers slowly returning from the harvest, heading for the tavern. It was a landscape used to peace and quiet. No one suspected the wee hamlet of Aberkin would rebel. They would sooner believe that a mouse could roar!
Laird Torquil’s chambers were extensive and luxurious. Colleen almost burst out laughing when she thought of herself lying on that wide bed on top of the satin pillows. She would rather jump out the highest window on the tallest turret rather than allow MacKenzie to ever touch her again.
Creeping along the outward facing wall, Colleen peeked through each balistraria and lifted each tapestry to see if she could climb out. The balistraria were too narrow, originally built as arrowslits when the castle had been a watchtower. But when she got to the washroom and garderobe, she had better luck. The washroom had a sluice. The wash water was tipped down a gutter instead of being emptied by buckets.
The gutter was foul smelling and covered in black slime, but the hole in the wall was large enough for her body to fit through. Wriggling out onto the stone water spout, Colleen saw the grotesque had been carved to look like a gargoyle. These stone water outlets jutted out from the structure were used to keep the drains and rainwater from eroding away the castle wall. I guess I must look like a gargoyle too now that I am covered in slime.
But there was no time to worry about her appearance. Pinching her nose closed after taking a deep breath, Colleen dropped into the muddy sluice pit below.