Chapter 18
Nora lay awake, picking at her nails. Because there were no windows in her room she had no idea if dawn had arrived yet or if there were some hours to wait.
The night hadn’t seemed long enough to do all that needed to be done.
Last night she had caused a distraction for the guards, tossing stones near them to make them think someone was lurking nearby.
While they were occupied, Samuel rode away.
He seemed convinced that Callan had helped enough people that they would want to help him in return.
He said there was so much enmity towards Laird MacPherson that they just needed something to rally around, and Callan’s execution could be just that.
He needed to get to the nearest village, start spreading the word, and then return with enough villagers to make a difference.
Since Callan was due to be hanged at dawn, it didn’t leave much time.
Nora’s stomach twisted in knots. Through the night she had done much wrangling, but by the end of it clarity did settle in her mind.
Although she was still distraught that her parents had been killed, she didn’t hate Callan for it.
It had been a sorry, stupid accident, and she did not wish to judge him for it.
The sense of profound sorrow she felt at the thought of losing him far outweighed any lingering despair she possessed.
Nora felt stronger in Callan’s presence. Instead of telling her what to do, he allowed her to discover her own strength. He had given her a choice, something that her brother and Laird MacPherson had never done.
He had saved her on multiple occasions, and when they lay together Nora knew that she could never feel such intense things for anyone else.
When she pictured her future bile rose in her throat when she thought of sitting at Laird MacPherson’s feet, having him press meat into her mouth, or using her to produce a strong heir.
She was nothing to him other than a tool to create a legacy that would surely see the Highlands seized by the grip of cruelty.
Nor did she enjoy the thought of escaping and living alone, either in a quiet village somewhere, forsaking her noble heritage and perhaps her name entirely. She would be at peace, but her life would always be hollow.
No, the only thought that brought her any joy was the life she had dreamed of that night with Callan.
The one where they lived in his cabin, where she learned to cook, where they would ride out to villages, helping people where they could, before sneaking away to a hidden glade where they would make love as the sun bled across the sky.
Being held by him was the only thing that brought her comfort and meaning. The night they shared together meant that a piece of her belonged to him, although she suspected that this transference might have occurred before then.
The maids came by shortly. Nora was once again squeezed into a cramped dress and escorted to the courtyard.
There was a smattering of villagers there.
Nora was dismayed to see that these were the only people to have come to Callan’s aid, although she could not see Samuel among them.
To her right was Callan, standing on the gallows.
The noose was draped around his neck already and his hands were once again bound behind his back.
There were fresh bruises on his face and his lip had been cut.
A drop of blood oozed out. Guards stood beside him.
Laird MacPherson seemed in a buoyant mood.
“Ach, there she is, my fair bride. Come, come and look at this, a fine wedding gift indeed. What could be better than the punishment of a villain?” he asked, rubbing his hands together with glee.
“I hae even summoned an audience tae watch. After all, there is nae point in a hanging if people cannae witness it. Dinnae worry, I’ll send them away before the wedding.
We dinnae need them bringing their poor stench inside. ”
“My Laird, please, will ye nae grant this man clemency? Surely a death would only serve tae curse our marriage,” Nora implored.
Laird MacPherson glared at her. “I dinnae believe in curses,” he muttered, then marched towards Callan.
Callan promptly spat a glob of phlegm in the Laird’s face, which made the Laird recoil and claw at his face.
“Ye can kill me taeday, but ye can never kill the spirit of the Highlands. Ye can only torment people for sae long before they hae enough. All of ye who witness me taeday, ken that I am nae afraid. I die with my eyes open, for Laird MacPherson is just a man! Rise up! Fight! Dinnae let him get away with his cruelty. Ye all deserve better than this.”
The words rolled over the courtyard. Nora smiled with pride, admiring the way Callan remained defiant towards the end. This was the man she loved, she realized. But how was she going to save him if Samuel didn’t arrive in time?
Laird MacPherson wiped the phlegm from his face and strode towards Callan.
“Ye can say whatever ye want, lad, but yer fate will remain the same. Dae ye think ye can goad me intae giving ye an easy death? I will watch ye squirm and writhe. I will hear ye beg for mercy with yer last breath, and—”
“I will never beg, nae tae ye,” Callan interrupted the Laird, which made him more incensed.
He widened his eyes and clenched his jaw. For a moment Nora believed he was about to draw a sword and drive it straight through Callan’s heart, but he managed to restrain himself. The Laird’s lust for suffering trumped everything else.
“Guards, tighten the noose!” he cried out, stepping away from Callan and raising his hands.
Nora’s heart rose to her throat. She gazed anxiously towards the gates of the Keep, but there was no sign of Samuel. He was too late. Perhaps his faith in the villagers had been misplaced and he hadn’t been able to find anyone at all.
It was left to her. Somehow, she would have to battle all the guards and make it to Callan.
If not, then she would die trying.
Perhaps that was the best alternative. At least she and Callan would suffer the same fate.
There was a sharp sound as the rope tightened.
The gallows creaked as Callan was hauled into the air.
His head lolled to the side and he gurgled, the grunt not quite having enough strength to fight past the rope that now cut into his neck like some evil serpent.
His face turned red and his eyes bulged, while his feet kicked out.
Laird MacPherson laughed. The color drained from Nora’s face. She wanted to scream his name but it was like she couldn’t suck in any air either.
She began to move towards Callan, and just at that point a storm started to rise. At least she thought it was a storm. Within a heartbeat it became clear that it was a hollering, angry mob of people.
“Guards, see to whatever that is!” Laird MacPherson said.
The gates crashed open and a sea of furious people poured through, wielding axes, hammers, and thick poles. They cried out as one.
“Death tae MacPherson!”
The guards weren’t enough.
An army wouldn’t have been enough.
All of them had suffered under Laird MacPherson’s cruelty. All of them had lost people because of him. Among them, Nora spotted Samuel waving a hand in the air. The guards were trying to hold back the raging crowd, while two of them grabbed Laird MacPherson and escorted him away.
“I will nae let them get away with this! At least ye are gaeing tae die, ye thief!” he cried out as he disappeared into the safe interior of this estate sparing no regard for her, of course.
Nora wasn’t about to waste any time. She flung her arms around Callan’s waist and hoisted him up, giving him a chance to breathe.
He wheezed desperately, although by this point his face had changed from red to purple and his eyelids were growing heavy.
Nora struggled to keep his weight aloft.
The strain of him made her shoulders ache.
“A knife! I need a knife tae save this man!” she said, although she soon wished she hadn’t as a dozen knives were thrown towards her.
They clattered at her feet, all of them tossed without any fury, and she had her pick of weapons. The guards turned, but the villagers made sure that they could not interfere.
Nora grabbed a knife. Callan dropped again. She heard the ugly grunt and the groaning struggle to breathe. She got beneath him, moving his legs around her shoulders, and reaching up to free his hands, twisting and straining her neck to make sure she didn’t cut him.
“Will ye stop moving,” she muttered.
When the rope fell away, she pushed the dagger up and Callan gripped it. He raised his arm and slashed at the noose. Suddenly he was free, and the two of them fell upon each other, although Nora bore the weight of it.
“I was a wee bit too busy dying tae stop moving, lass,” Callan rasped, holding his throat and coughing afterward. He looked through the mob for a moment. He seemed taken aback by the number of people who had come to his aid.
“Seems ye quite a lot of people owe ye one,” she said and he smiled.
Nora grabbed his hand and rose to her feet. Their boots thumped against the gallows as they ran to the stables, where Samuel had prepared a horse. Nora and Callan mounted it together, rushing away behind the crowd, away from the guards who could do nothing to stop them.
Nora rode hard and fast, intending to put as much distance between her and the estate as possible, just in case guards managed to get away and pursue them.
Wind whipped her hair while Callan rested behind her, his arms holding onto her.
They only slowed when the horse grew fatigued.
They slipped off near a river. The horse ambled over to it and slaked its thirst.
“I could use a wee bit of that myself,” Callan said, still rubbing his sore throat.