Chapter 5
Kyleakin Village – Festival Day
Una locked the door to her small sewing school and pocketed the key with a satisfied smile.
Summer. Blessed, glorious summer.
Her cousins had departed a week prior for Edinburgh, their trunks loaded with the finest garments Una's skill could create, their heads filled with dreams of wealthy courtiers and advantageous marriages. The parting words they'd offered her had been predictably cutting.
"I daresay we'll return engaged to noblemen whilst ye're still arguing with the weaver over the price of linen."
"To think we'll soon be dining in the king's castle while you'll be tending the fire alone in this hovel."
And even her aunt had thought it necessary to chime in. "If only yer ma had not married beneath her, perhaps ye'd be fit for royal court. I fear ye have inherited her stubborn spirit."
Una had smiled through every barb, nodded through every slight, and waited until the sound of their horses faded before she leaned against her closed door and breathed freely for the first time in months.
Which meant Una had nearly three months of peace.
Well, relative peace. She would still need to earn coin, which meant taking commissions and working on pieces she could sell at market.
But that was different from the daily grind of teaching girls who looked down their noses at her while simultaneously demanding she teach them skills fine enough to impress royalty.
With happy thoughts putting a spring in her step, she adjusted the basket on her arm and set off down the lane toward the village proper. The summer festival had just begun, and she planned to enjoy every moment of it.
She had dressed carefully for the occasion, wearing one of her newer creations – a gown she'd spent the winter months perfecting.
The kirtle was a soft sage green, made from fine wool she'd bought from a traveling merchant.
The bodice fit perfectly, the result of multiple fittings and techniques she'd learned from her grandmother.
But it was the embroidery that truly made the gown special, giving it the look of something a fine lady would wear.
Una had spent countless evenings working by candlelight, using silk threads in cream and gold to create delicate patterns along the neckline and cuffs.
There were tiny flowers intertwined with leaves and vines, each petal formed with the split stitch embroidery that separated true masters from merely competent sewers.
Her arisaidh – a length of wool in deep brown – was draped over her left shoulder and pinned with a simple bronze brooch.
She had woven the trim herself, the pattern created by carefully counting threads and varying the over-under of the weft, producing texture without the need for different-colored yarns.
The lane was quiet that afternoon, most people already at the festival. Una could hear music and laughter carrying on the warm breeze, and could smell roasting meat and fresh bread.
She found herself humming as she walked, her basket swinging gently. In her pocket were a few coins saved from her teaching wages, enough to buy some ribbons and perhaps a honey cake or two. She might even commission a new length of linen from the weaver if the price was right.
Perhaps she would visit her friend Bella MacKinnon tomorrow and bring her godson baby Quinn a gift from the market.
Una smiled at the thought. Seeing Bella so happy, so loved, so completely content with her husband, the fearsome Laird Boyd MacKinnon, and their baby son, made Una's heart warm.
When Bella and Boyd had named Una as Quinn's godmother, she had been deeply touched.
At least there were some people in the world who did not find her beneath their notice.
It was through Bella's encouragement that Una had decided to open her sewing school and set up shop permanently in the nearby village.
Within weeks, she'd had a steady stream of customers and a means of making coin for herself.
The MacKinnons were her staunchest supporters, and Una would be forever grateful for their friendship.
The lane curved ahead, passing through a small stretch of woodland before opening onto the village common. Una had walked this path dozens of times since moving to Kyleakin and thought nothing of the trees crowding close on either side.
Which was why she didn't notice the man until he stepped out onto the road.
He was rough-looking and armed, blocking her path.
Una stopped abruptly, her hand going instinctively to the small knife she kept hidden in her kirtle's pocket. It was not the first time she had encountered trouble on a lonely road, and she had learned years ago to be prepared.
"I need to pass," she said coolly, already calculating whether she could dart past him into the trees.
"Do ye now?" he replied, grinning to reveal several missing teeth. "Well, that's nae goin' tae happen, because we need ye to come with us, Lady Fenella."
Una blinked. "Lady Fenella? I think ye have the wrong person."
That was when she heard the footsteps behind her.
Una spun around, but it was too late. A second man had circled around, cutting off her retreat. Before she could scream, rough hands grabbed her arms.
"Let go of me!" Una kicked backward, her heel connecting solidly with someone's shin. She heard a curse and felt the grip loosen slightly. She twisted, managing to wrench one arm free and reach for her knife.
But they were faster. One man caught her wrist, squeezing until she cried out and the knife clattered to the ground. Another shoved a cloth between her teeth, muffling her screams.
Una fought like a wildcat, kicking and thrashing, but she was outnumbered. They bound her wrists with rough rope, cinching it tight enough to bite into her skin.
"Feisty little thing," one of them muttered. "They warned us she'd be spirited. That's why she's been creeping about the taverns."
Creeping about? What are they talking about?
Una tried to ask around the gag, but the words came out as muffled nonsense.
They half-carried, half-dragged her into the trees where a covered cart waited. Una renewed her struggles as they lifted her toward it, but it was useless. She was shoved roughly into the back, landing hard on the wooden boards.
"Got her," one of the men called out. "Let's move! We need to hand her over to the gang so we can get paid."
The cart lurched forward before Una could even try to sit up. She rolled into a pile of sacks, her shoulder hitting something hard that made her eyes water.
Through the canvas covering, she could see the men talking as they rode alongside the cart. Una strained her ears to catch their conversation.
"Why do ye think they wanted us to fetch her, Bearnas?" the one with missing teeth asked. "They have enough men. Seems like a lot of trouble for a dowry."
"Who cares, Talorc," the man named Bearnas replied from the driver's seat. "As long as we get paid, I dinnae give a damn what they do with her after."
"Are ye not curious how much they're getting paid, when 'tis us who did all the dirty work?"
"What do ye mean?" Bearnas asked.
"Well, they said they'd pay us fifty sceats, but what if we kept her and ransomed her ourselves?"
"Dinnae borrow trouble, Talorc," Bearnas snapped. "They're dangerous men. The last fool who tried to trick them wound up with his innards gutted and his throat slit."
There was a pause, then Talorc spoke again. "If we ransom her ourselves, her da will pay us far more than fifty sceats."
"Are ye daft?" Bearnas hissed. "The gang will ken what we're doing and slit our throats before we can scratch our arses."
"Let's take a vote on it," Talorc replied.
"How? There's only two of us," Bearnas scoffed.
"Not if we ask the lass what she thinks."
There was a brief pause, then Una heard Bearnas curse and say, "All right. Remove the gag and ask her."
Una's eyes rounded. She wondered what manner of idiots had just kidnapped her.
But if they were fool enough to ask her opinion, she would turn it to her advantage.
The moment the gag was removed, she said, "I agree with Mr. Talorc.
Return me to the village and the thane will pay ye far more than fifty sceats. "
"See, I told ye," Talorc grinned. "That's two against one."
Una held her breath, hardly daring to hope that stupidity might yet save her.
Finally, Bearnas said, "All right, ye win. But we best take another road, because if they catch us here, we're dead."
Una wanted to jump for joy but kept her expression somber.
Unfortunately, she was gagged again as the cart turned and headed in a different direction.
Trussed up as she was, she could not help but turn the situation over in her mind.
Someone had paid these men to kidnap Fenella and mistaken her for her cousin.
But rather than stick to the original plan, they were now going to steal both the dowry and her, and likely enrage some very dangerous men in the process.
Trust her luck to get kidnapped by imbeciles.
A mixture of fear and adrenaline surged through her. She just needed to keep her wits about her long enough to find a way to escape.
The cart bounced over rougher roads, each jolt sending Una sliding across the wooden boards. She could hear the men chatting, clearly pleased with their foolhardy plan.
The cart hit another rut, sending Una crashing into the side. Her carefully embroidered gown was already filthy, covered in dust and straw. The arisaidh had come unpinned and tangled around her waist.
She wanted to scream. Wanted to cry.
Una closed her eyes and forced herself to think. She needed to plan an escape, and when the moment came, they could never know her real identity.
Someone help me, she thought desperately as the cart rattled on. Bella. Boyd. Anyone. Please.
But she knew there was no one coming. She would need to rely on herself.
Story of her life, really.
***