Fraser 02 - Highland Quest (14 page)

Robert snatched the missive and opened it. But as he finished reading the note, his rigid features softened into a wry grin. “Aymer has offered a challenge. Little does he know, that is exactly what I hoped he would do. I’ll draft a response and send it back. We will meet him two days hence.”

While Robert penned the note, Bryce’s thoughts drifted back to Fallon. There had been no mention of the MacDougall’s whereabouts and the last he’d heard, the blackguard was heading toward Turnberry. He prayed she was safe.

“The plan is a sound one.” Alasdair leaned closer to Bryce and nudged him in the ribs with his elbow.

Bryce grunted and shrugged. “What did you say?”

Alasdair tried unsuccessfully to rake his fingers through a matted mane of hair. “This is not a bairn’s game we play. Your head is in the clouds and you need to focus on the battle, not your woman.”

“You’re daft.” Anger heated his blood and with his pulse throbbing in his neck and hammering in his ears, Bryce stomped away, lest he let his brother feel the repercussions of his comments. He was fed up with Alasdair’s nagging and innuendos.

“Am I the one who is daft? You’re the fool who has been sulking around like a lovesick hound.” Alasdair grasped Bryce’s upper arm and spun him around. “If Fallon is not the cause of your distraction, then tell me what keeps you preoccupied both night and day.”

“Let go of my arm,” Bryce growled. He glared at Alasdair’s hands and fisted his own at his side to keep from lashing out at his brother. To his surprise, Alasdair released him and backed away.

“We will soon be headed into battle, but your mind is elsewhere. I’ll wager you dinna hear a word Robert said.”

“I heard Robert’s plan. His idea is feasible, but I still have some reservations. Everything has fallen into place too easily. But if all goes accordingly, I canna wait to see the shock on de Valance’s face when the tide is turned and he is caught in Robert’s web. Retaliation for Methven is all I have thought about for the last year.”

“The overpowering need for revenge can eat away at a man’s soul until there is nothing left. After the battle is over, you can return for Fallon. I imagine you’ll be wed not long after and before I know it, I’ll be an uncle again.” Alasdair slapped Bryce on the back. “Given the virility of Fraser men, Fallon may already be breeding.”

“She is not, and I don’t intend to return to Turnberry when this battle if over.” Bryce cut his brother off. “I will continue in Robert’s service until the English are driven out of Scotland. Then I will journey to France as I intended.”

“So you keep telling me.” Alasdair slid his hands over his belly and laughed.

“What is so humorous?” Bryce asked through gritted teeth as an image of his fist connecting with his brother’s jaw rose to his mind’s eye.

“You are, little brother. No matter how much you protest or try to deny the truth, your preoccupation with Fallon is evident. I dinna need her gift of second sight to foretell the future. As bleak as settling down with one woman may sound.”

James approached. “The messenger has been sent, accepting de Valance’s challenge. The English are camped about a mile from here, maybe more. They are not close enough to see the trenches being dug.”

“By the time they arrive for the skirmish, we will be ready for them.” Robert patted James on the back. “I have faith our time has finally come.”

“Do we have any word on the MacDougalls?” A rush of excitement and anticipation coursed through Bryce’s veins as it always did before a battle. He relished the idea of facing Dungal again. But concern for Fallon still niggled at his gut, a feeling of foreboding he was unable to shake.

“From what I was told, the MacDougalls are joining de Valance, but have yet to arrive. When they do, it will increase the enemy forces to over three thousand,” James replied.

“I have no doubt the MacDougalls will come. Rats always travel in packs,” Bryce added, then left the gathering.

While some of Dungal’s men gathered wood and started a cook-fire in the center of the clearing, others piled dried leaves and fresh rushes, covered them with woolen plaids or animal pelts, and arranged the pallets in rows around the perimeter. The task of setting up the camp completed, Dungal left Fallon in the custody of a guard while he and his men imbibed in food and ale.

The rugged sentry towered over her. With his disheveled red hair hanging loosely around his shoulders he reminded her of Alasdair Fraser. He, too, presented the fierce façade of an unapproachable beast, but she’d seen through Alasdair’s gruff exterior to the gentle man inside.

“You’ll not give me any trouble. Try to run, and I’ll cut you down before you take your first step.” He slid his hand over the hilt of his sword. “Woman or no, I won’t hesitate to use my blade.”

“You take your duty seriously. Do you value your honor as a Scotsman as much?” There was no sign of compassion in his eyes, but she hoped if forced to make a choice, he’d opt for the latter.

Dungal had selected well. The guard stood at attention, staring straight ahead, and did not utter a word in his own defense. His expression was unreadable.

The spicy aroma of roasted meat wafting in the air caused her stomach to growl, providing a stark reminder she’d had nothing to eat or drink since breaking her morning fast. She licked her parched lips, imagining a dipper of cool water to sate her thirst, but quickly pushed the thought to the back of her mind. She refused to ask her captors for anything.

Dungal staggered toward her. “Leave us. I’ll watch the chit while you eat.” He dismissed the guard, and waited for him to saunter away before dragging Fallon to her feet. Amidst the bawdy comments and shouts of encouragement from his friends to take her where they stood, he snaked his arm around her waist. “Shall I do as they request?” he groaned in her ear.

She’d rather be struck dead than to suffer the humiliation of spending one minute wrapped in his arms. The notion of being physically claimed by her enemy made her skin crawl. Convinced if she showed him any sign of weakness he’d follow through with his threats, she steeled herself against his advances. “You told the men I was not to be touched. Have you forgotten, or do you not abide by your own demands?”

“I set the rules, m’lady, and I can change them.” He nuzzled his beard-roughened chin against her neck.

“So it appears.” She stiffened in his arms.

A chuckle rumbled deep in his chest, but his stern expression remained unyielding. “In all my days, I’ve never met a woman as outspoken or as irritating. Yet I find your tenacity intriguing.” He tightened his embrace. “I should have killed you when I had the chance, but like a burr under a horse’s blanket, you hold my attention and pique my curiosity. You are either a very clever temptress or a fool.”

“I am neither, sir. Before she died, my mam taught me to stand up for myself and to speak my mind, even against overbearing men. I demand you release me at once.” She tried to wriggle free, then pressed her palms to his chest and shoved. He may think her bold, but if he knew how terrified she was that he’d rape her, he might complete the deed. She pushed him again, but he remained steadfast.

Dungal grabbed her hands and twisted her arms behind her back until she released a whimper of submission. “You are my prisoner. Best you remember your place.” He let go of her wrists and pinched her cheeks between his thumb and forefinger, forcing her to look him in the eye. “Dinna delude yourself, woman. I can, and will, have you whenever I see fit to do so.” He released his grip, and she stumbled backward.

Fallon bit back the urge to further express her disgust at the idea of bedding Dungal, deciding it was better to hold her tongue rather than anger him further. In his drunken state, there was no telling how he might react.

“I am weary from the journey and need to rest.” She lowered herself to the ground.

“Is that so?” Dungal raised his brow. “You may share my pallet if you wish, or spend the night tied to the tree. The choice is yours.” Dungal crossed his arms over his chest and awaited an answer.

“I dinna consider those suitable options.”

“You are fortunate that I gave you any choice at all. Nonetheless, they are the only two you have. Either you select one, or I will do it for you.”

“I pick the tree.”

“Suit yourself. After we win the battle, you will no longer have a say in where you sleep—or with whom,” Dungal sneered as he summoned the guard. “Tie her to the tree and when you’re done, take her slippers as an added precaution.”

Twilight faded into night and the forest grew dark with ominous shadows shrouding the clearing. Except for the low drone of a conversation going on at the distant edges of the camp, the crackle of burning wood, and the warriors’ snoring, all was quiet.

Fallon shifted her position, trying to get comfortable, but with her back against a hard tree trunk, her efforts proved futile. Dew-laced fog swirled around her, dampening her clothing and hair. She tucked her bare feet beneath her gown and shivered. A plaid or pelt would shield her from the elements, but she would rather freeze than ask Dungal for anything.

She’d need her wits about her if she had any chance of getting away, albeit at this moment the possibility appeared bleak. Determined to make the most of her precarious situation, she inhaled deeply, allowing the scent of pine to calm her senses. Exhausted, she closed her eyes and drifted off.

“Do you plan to slumber the day away?”

The deep voice startled her. When someone nudged her with the toe of his boot, Fallon opened her heavy eyelids and found herself staring into the face of Dungal’s brother squatting beside her.

Keith straightened his posture. “You haven’t eaten since yesterday and I’d wager you’re famished and thirsty. I brought you something.” He raised a wineskin to her mouth.

Fallon stared at him in disbelief. Until now, he’d been gruff and unaccommodating.

“Dinna glare at me as if I am trying to poison you. It’s ale. Drink.” He brought the vessel to her lips again. “If you dinna want it—”

Fallon drank greedily then pulled her head away. “Thank you.”

His act of kindness surprised her. Fallon glanced around the camp, but amidst a flurry of activity, Dungal was not present. “I’m not sure your brother will approve.” She accepted another sip of ale.

“Dungal isn’t here. He had an important matter to tend to and left me in charge.” Keith raised his chin and puffed out his chest with pride.

“Where did he go?” she couldn’t help but to inquire. Her uncle’s wise words sprang to mind.
Always keep your enemy close, so you know what they are about.

“You’d do best not to
fash
over things which are none of your concern. Dungal will return soon enough.” Keith stood and capped the wineskin. “Are you hungry?”

Fallon gave a hesitant nod. “Aye. I would appreciate something to eat.”

Keith trotted off, but unlike Dungal, he did not ask anyone to stand guard. Fallon searched the surrounding area, hoping to find a suitable means of escape. She tugged at the ropes binding her hands behind her back, but the knot tightened. She blew out a deep sigh of frustration. Unless she convinced Keith to untie her, there was no way she could flee.

“It’s not fancy fare, but will fill your belly.” Keith carried a trencher and eating knife. He squatted beside her, stabbed a small portion of meat, and held the morsel to her lips.

Fallon accepted a piece of venison and then another. The spicy flavor exploded in her mouth. She closed her eyes savoring each bite, forgetting for a moment she was being held captive. The oatcake that followed was dry and not as tasty, but Keith was right, it did allay her hunger. She swallowed the last mouthful then coughed to clear her throat. “I must tend to my needs.”

Keith grunted. “I, um, I dinna know where to take you,” he stammered, his face turning a deep crimson. “Mayhap we should wait until Dungal returns.”

“Your brother may be an arrogant, insufferable . . .” She refrained from further comment on Dungal’s despicable character. “But he granted my request when the need presented itself. It will take but a minute and the thicket at the edge of the camp will do fine.” She inclined her head in the direction.

As he took a minute to ponder the request, her mind raced with possibilities. Was he softening to her? Guilt niggled at her belly. If she managed to flee, he’d be left to face Dungal’s wrath. After showing her a gesture of kindness, she hated to deceive him, but she had to try. Keith was different in many ways from his older brother, but desperate times called for her to use whatever tactics were necessary to get away. “Please, I would not ask if it wasn’t urgent.”

Keith raked his fingers through his hair. “I guess there is no choice but to trust you.” He bent and untied her bonds, releasing her from the tree. “Get up.” He cupped her elbow and helped her to stand.

Fallon rubbed her raw, swollen wrists and rotated her shoulder to work out the stiffness. “Thank you. I am again indebted to you for your kindness.” The words left a sour taste in her mouth, but she had to win his confidence. Her legs were numb from sitting, but after a few steps the feeling returned.

“Wait. Dinna go any farther.”

The deep rumble of Keith’s voice stopped her in her tracks. She glanced over her shoulder.

“Give me your hands or I’ll tie you to the tree again.” The rope dangled from his fist as he closed the gap between them. “I am not the buffoon Dungal believes I am. If you dinna cooperate, you can sit and wait for my brother to return.”

Fallon slowly raised her hand. There was no point in challenging and her compliance might win him over. “I never believed you were. Dungal is the fool.”

Keith shrugged. “That may be, but he is my brother and laird of the clan. It is my duty to serve him. If I let him down, he’ll see me flayed.”

“Even if what he does is wrong?”

Keith grunted again, but did not respond to her question. He tied the rope around her wrists then led her to the thicket. “Hurry and do what you need to do,” Keith mumbled under his breath as he placed his hand on the small of her back and urged her to move.

Fallon planted her feet and refused to budge. “I canna hold my skirts with my hands bound. If you’ll untie me for just a moment, I promise to be quick.”

“Dungal will skin me alive if I cut you loose. I won’t go against his orders. You’ll have to manage.”

“Your brother took my slippers. We are in the middle of a dense forest. What harm can it do if you untie me for a few minutes? Surely Dungal would understand a woman’s need for privacy,” she concluded, and dropped her chin, hoping he’d be embarrassed enough at her implications to comply. Her heart leapt when he cupped her hands and the cold blade of his dirk brushed her skin.

“Dinna make me regret my decision.” He cut the rope. “Do what you must and make haste.”

“Will you step away or at the least turn your back?” she asked while offering him a pleading pout.

She was pressing her luck, but she stood a better chance of getting away if he wasn’t watching.

Keith grumbled something indiscernible, threw up his hands, and turned around. “Make haste. You have but a minute.”

Fallon stepped into the bushes, then bolted without glancing behind her. The moment of remorse at duping Keith was brief. This was war, and despite his compassion, he was duty-bound to Dungal and her enemy.

Keith let out a string of ribald curses that she was certain resonated for miles then shouted for warriors to join him in the chase.

She started out on a well-worn path, but if she had any hope of eluding capture, she needed to find a less conspicuous route. She could never outrun highly trained men in a sprint, especially if they hunted her down on horseback. Leaving the marked trail might prolong her journey, but it gave her a fighting chance.

Making her way through bracken and branches, stumbling over rough rocky terrain, she headed east, in the direction of Loudon Hill.

Her heart hammered and her chest constricted, begging for air. The painful stitch in her side worsened with each step, but she kept up the pace. Her feet were bloody and laced with cuts and bruises from the stones and twigs on the forest floor. Taking her slippers was a strategic coup for Dungal, but while it slowed her down, it would not deter her from her goal.

She heard Keith and the others in pursuit and judging by the closeness of the approaching voices, they were gaining ground. To linger in one spot was not prudent. However, with her feet in their current state, things could only get worse.

She paused for a moment and sucked in a gulp of air. In desperate need of a rest, she was frantically searching for a place to hide when an idea came to her. She quickly scaled a nearby tree, climbing to a large curved branch. From her perch she could see for miles and the thick foliage kept her hidden from view.

“I found a scrap from her gown, but her tracks end here,” a male voice echoed. “She must have doubled back.”

She covered her mouth, stifling a gasp. Keith and five warriors stood directly below. Even the slightest movement would alert them to her presence.

“I canna believe we lost her.” Keith bent over at the waist, planted his hands on his knees, and drew in a slow breath. “Dungal is going to kill me.”

“I dinna want to be present when he finds out she’s gone.” One of the men let out a long, slow whistle as he sat on the ground then rested his back against the base of the tree. “She scurries like a hare, and I’m spent. I’ll rest here for a while if you want to go on without me.”

Fallon couldn’t breathe and panic squeezed her lungs. Her heart raced and remaining still seemed to be an impossible task. But she had to try. If she made any noise or rustled the leaves and the man raised his eyes, she’d be discovered.

“Get up.” Keith kicked the man’s boot. “If we dinna locate her before Dungal returns, you will be the target of his ire as much as me. And you’re right when you say he’ll not be pleased about this turn of events.”

The man’s face paled and he lumbered to his feet. “I’m suddenly refreshed.” He brushed the dirt and dried leaves from his tunic then trotted into the woods with Keith and the others on his heels.