Chapter 2 #2
“The decision has already been made, and now we’re simply giving you time to stop fighting it.”
“How much time?” Her voice was devoid of all emotion now, as there was little that she could do to fight him.
“A week, perhaps, for you to adjust. Then we announce the engagement.”
Charity looked to Robert, the man she was set to marry, and was astonished to find that he did not look too happy himself. It appeared that her uncle had forced the decision upon him, just as he was trying to do with her.
All so that he can accrue some financial benefit from this, Charity shuddered at the thought. It was truly vile what some people were capable of when it came to money.
“Well, then?” her Uncle kept looking at her. “Do you have any more questions?”
Does it matter?
“I don’t believe so.”
Edward flashed the first genuine smile that she had seen from him ever, looking pleased that he had gotten his victory so easily.
“Tremendous, then. We do not have any problems then,” he said.
Charity nodded, feeling her knees grow weak. They did not waste more time on small talk, and her uncle left with the promise to return again in a few days to prepare for the wedding.
Cold.
That was the first, and the most obvious sensation that Charity felt when she awoke next. Her eyes opened, and for a few seconds she did not understand what she was seeing. Her hands patted around on the space around her, and it was not the usual soft mattress that she slept in each night.
On the contrary, it was rather a thick assembly of leaves and branches. Immediately, a sudden panic began to course through her veins. Where am I? She pushed a palm against the earth and tried to sit up.
“What…” Her voice came out hoarse, and her heart began to beat too fast. Her mind reached for the last clear memory; it was in York in her bed. “Where am I?”
As much as she tried, her mind was only drawing up blanks, which frustrated her to no end. She pressed her fingers to her temples, as if she could physically push sense back into her skull.
She tried again to get up, slower this time, using the tree to brace herself and then…
Thwack.
She turned her head and saw an arrow embedded in the trunk of the tree, narrowly missing her. A scream ripped out through her, now suddenly feeling as though she had no control over what was happening anymore.
“Who is there? Stop….Stop it!”
A moment later, a man appeared from between the trees, moving quickly and with purpose, a bow in his hand. At least that explained where the arrow had come from, though Charity still had little clue as to who this was, or what his intentions might be.
Words were coming out of his mouth now, though Charity did not seem to understand them properly. They did not sound like normal English.
“What?” She stared at him, still breathing too fast. “I don’t understand you.”
“Ye…aye. Ye’re awright. Daenae….daenae be fearin’. I didnae mean to harm ye,” he said, and Charity could barely make sense of what it was that he was saying. Though she did get the gist of it.
“You shot an arrow at my head,” Charity said, straightening her back now. She kept her gaze fixed on the man. If he had come to kill her, he would have done so already. Besides, he was not speaking to her in a very harsh tone.
Still, she could allow herself to feel safe.
The man looked toward the arrow in the tree as if annoyed with himself.
“I didnae shoot at ye, I shot near ye and ye woke sudden and…” He made a quick gesture toward the open woods. “I thought ye’d bolt.”
“Why would you stop me from running?”
“Because ye’re nae well,” he said, speaking more slowly now, as if she were the problem. “If ye run, ye’ll fall or worse.”
“You’re Scottish,” she said, and the realization made her stomach drop again. “This is Scotland.”
It was as though an important part of the puzzle had just been solved for her, though it took her a moment to realize.
“Aye.”
“How am I in Scotland?” she frowned, her head spinning with every passing second. How did any of this happen? Where are my sisters?
He opened his mouth, closed it, then said something in Gaelic again, looking past her shoulder like he expected someone else to answer.
“Don’t talk around me.” Charity snapped, “Tell me where I am.”
“I’m nae tryin’ to confuse ye,” the man’s brows drew together. “I’m tryin’ to figure out what to do with ye.”
“With me?” Charity repeated. “What do you mean, what to do with me? I didn’t wander here, and… well, I can barely make sense of what is happening around me. Did you bring me here?”
“Nay, lass,” he sounded offended, like she’d accused him of theft. Which, of course, only served to confuse her even more.
“Then who did?” Charity.
The man’s eyes flicked away again, and he did not answer.
Charity’s mind latched onto the worst explanation immediately: she had been taken, and he knew why.
“What is your name?”
The man seemed relieved to be asked something simple.
“Malcolm,” he said. “And ye’re goin’ to be awright.”
“How long have you been watching me?” Charity asked, and the question made her skin crawl.
“Long enough to know ye’re nae well,” Malcolm hesitated.
Charity’s stomach rolled again, and she swallowed hard, trying to keep it down.
“Where is the road? Where is the nearest town? I must go back to England.”
She kept wondering what her sisters might be doing, or how much time had passed. They must be worried about her, and that was the last thing that she wanted.
Malcolm stared at her as though she had asked something impossible.
“England’s far,” he said finally, and his gaze flicked toward the woods. He said something under his breath in Gaelic, then lifted his head and shouted.
“Who are you calling?” Charity tensed immediately.
“The man I answer to,” he said. “He’ll ken what to do.”
“Oh…” Charity said, feeling a shudder go down her spine. So, there was someone else in charge.
With great difficulty, Charity propped herself up and stepped back to put a little more distance between herself and Malcolm, but the step made her dizzy again. Her vision blurred slightly at the edges.
You must not faint, she told herself, clutching at the rosary of her necklace again.
In a strange environment, it did a lot to bring her some comfort.
All she could think of was how to return to York and to her family.
Somehow, her problems regarding a forced marriage to her cousin seemed small in comparison to whatever quagmire she had found herself in now.
But before any more words could be exchanged, a man appeared between the trees. When Charity looked at him, her heart seemed to stop for a moment.
The man was tall and broad. He had a threatening aura to him, which confirmed that this was the man in charge, even though no words had been exchanged yet.
He had on a dark coat, which seemed to resemble his expression, and there was a roughness to him that she had not seen before, at least not in the gentleman she came across in England.
And then, of course, he was covered in scars. The sight of them made her flinch and then become curious all at once. It was so strange that she was having such a visceral reaction to this man.
Malcolm straightened immediately, making it clear that he was to be respected.
“Yer Grace.”