Chapter 2 #3
The larger man spoke to Malcolm first, in Gaelic, which Charity did not quite understand. Malcolm answered quickly, gesturing toward the arrow, then toward Charity. She shuddered visibly in response when his eyes landed on her.
Is he going to hurt me? Something in her heart said that he was safe, even though there was no indication that she was correct about such a thing.
When he spoke to her, it was proper English but with a Highland burr.
“You’re awake,” he said.
“Who are you? Where am I?” she stuttered out her questions.
The man didn’t answer and instead looked at her clothes and the state that she was in.
“Who are you?” he asked as though she had not asked him anything first.
“No, you answer first. If I’ve been kidnapped and brought here, then you tell me where I am and why,” Charity felt herself growing stubborn. Usually, she held more patience than this, but it was hard to do so under the current circumstances in which she had found herself in.
Besides, there was just something about this man that seemed to set off something inside of her. An immediate emotional reaction, even though she did not even know his name.
Strange.
“You’re on my land,” he said, narrowing his eyes at her.
“Then are you the one who brought me here?”
“No,” he said after a pause, offering no further explanation.
“Then who did?” Charity pressed, feeling her mind spin again.
The man watched her for a long moment, and Charity felt the distrust thicken, and Malcolm shifted behind him, uneasy.
“Tell me your name,” he said again, and it did not sound like a request in the slightest.
“I want to know if you had anything to do with bringing me here. Tell me who you are,” she sighed. He did not look like someone who took instruction, and it felt futile to even ask.
“Duncan,” he replied after a moment. It surprised Charity that he even bothered to reply, as she was certain that he would ignore her. But it was enough to give her encouragement to ask him the next question.
“Duncan what?”
“Duncan is enough,” he replied, establishing that he had communicated what was necessary.
“All right, you say you didn’t bring me here. Fine, then you help me leave. I need to get back to England. My sisters are in York, and if I’m not there…”
“You’re not going to England today.”
“What?”
“You’re not in any state to travel,” he said, frowning as he gave her a once-over.
“But that is not your decision to make,” Charity felt her voice shake. No, she could not accept that, nor would she be kept hostage like this. “I must go; in fact, it is imperative that I go.”
“Lass, we’re nae goin’ to hurt ye. If we meant harm, ye’d have it already.”
“That’s not reassuring,” Charity said sharply. Her head was feeling dizzy again, and she took a few steps forward.
“You’re shaking, and you’re going to fall,” the words came from Duncan and they were laced with warning.
“I’m not going to fall,” Charity insisted stubbornly, and even she could hear how thin it sounded.
She tried to shift her weight to prove it but it failed. For a second she managed to correct, planting her foot harder.
“Tell me what place this is and what you want from me,” Charity’s stomach rolled again and the dizziness surged, and her vision blurred at the edges.
She took an involuntary step back while Duncan moved one step forward at the same time. Charity’s body reacted immediately and she lifted a hand as if it would stop him.
“Don’t come closer. I don’t know you.”
Duncan stopped, but his eyes stayed fixed on her.
“You’re going to fall.”
Charity’s mouth opened, ready to deny it again, but this time, her knees went weak. The next moment, her balance slipped. Immediately, she tried to grab the tree, but her hand missed.
Oh, no, no. I cannot faint. She tried hard to keep control of herself, but it was proving harder by the second. Duncan was there instantly, faster than she expected from a man his size. One moment she was falling, the next his arms were around her, catching her as if she weighed nothing.
“Don’t touch me,” she said, but the words came out strained, “Don’t….”
“You’re not in a position to argue.” His grip was firm, and it left no room for her to slip away. Charity hated that she felt warm in his hold and how safe it had suddenly made her feel.
It made no sense, after all. She did not know this man.
“I need to go back,” she forced out, and the words cracked. “My sisters are in York and I can’t…”
“I heard you,” he said as Charity struggled to keep her eyes open. The woods blurred and sound dulled, as if someone had stuffed cotton in her ears.
She felt Duncan shift his grip, adjusting her weight, and he lifted her properly, hoisting her up into his arms.
“Put me down,” she whispered.
Malcolm stepped closer, speaking quickly to Duncan in Gaelic, worry in his voice.
“We’re going back now.”
Malcolm nodded quickly.
Duncan turned, already moving through the trees with Charity in his arms. Charity tried to cling to consciousness, but her body wouldn’t cooperate.
The last thing she heard clearly was Duncan’s voice again, directed at Malcolm.
“Blackford,” he said. “To the castle.”