Plead Forgiveness (Loyalty Series) (6 page)

The boy’s high-pitched cry and trembling slight body
gained him no sympathy. With his men standing behind him, Gavin attempted
again. “I ken my English is understandable, so I will ask ye one more time. Who
are . . . ” His words trailed off when he spied a long hair escape from the
boy’s tunic.

“Nobody, Sir,” Ella whispered, unable to mask her
feminine voice.

Silence followed her statement, and then the fierce
man lowered her to the ground. The hands that held the front of her tunic in
that vice like grip loosened, moving instead to take hold of her upper arm.

Her eyes widened, noticing his powerful build and
incredible height. There was no mistaking his body for English or even
Scottish. He was without a doubt a Highlander.

Gavin and his warriors, stunned by the revelation,
couldn’t believe that the one who gave them such a merry chase was indeed a
very young lass, judging by her small frame. Holding her by one arm, he asked,
“Ye be a lass?”

Ella confirmed his belief with a slight nod. Assuming
these men were here for Gabriel, she planned to inform them that the boy was on
his way home to Scotland. She hoped they would believe her.

Unfortunately, her hopes died when another Scot came
forward, and proclaimed, “Warin said that Baron Greystone has a female ward,
who is a distant relation to his wife. Lady Ella, I believe. Apparently, Philip
claimed guardianship of her eight years ago. However, he also said that she
might be nae more than his bastard daughter or his whore. Either way, the king
granted guardianship to Greystone to lift Lady Eleanor’s spirits after losing
her father, sister and child.”

Ella barely listened. She was far more concerned about
the way the six Scots were staring at her. They were as tall and large as oak
trees, but that did not alarm her as much as the animosity radiating from them,
cloaking her with scorching revulsion. She should have expected this reaction,
considering the hatred the Scots had for the English.

Gavin gently shook her arm, but his hostile tone
remained when he asked, “Is that true? Are ye Philip of Greystone’s bastard
daughter?”

Refusing to clarify the misconception, she demanded,
“Take your hands off me, before I-”

“Before ye what, English? If ye dinna notice, ye are
in nae position to argue.”

Her indignation made her blurt out, “I think you a
fool to believe repeated gossip told by chambermaids and old women. Now, Lord
Ignorant, tell me who you are so I may be on my way.”

The highland warriors were dumbstruck at the hellion’s
outburst. Never had anyone been dim-witted enough to speak to their laird in
such a disrespectful manner.

“The lass is daft, with naught but rocks between her
ears,” Edric spat in Gaelic.

Stunned by wench’s audacity, Gavin would have laughed
if his men weren’t within earshot. Instead, he lifted her by the shoulders and
leaned forward so his face was near to touching hers.

“I am Gavin Macleod, Laird to the Macleod Clan. Uncle
to Gabriel, the boy your guardian had kidnapped. And one who dinna have
patience for brazen English bitches.”

With that said, he threw her over his shoulder. He
used one hand to hold the backs of her legs, while she thrashed around and
pummeled his back with her small fists. He was astounded that a lass, who
weighed no more than a lad of ten summers, would continue to fight him.

With his free hand, he gave her rump a hard whack, and
then instantly regretted the action. The feel of her firm, perfectly shaped
little bottom was too enticing, and with experienced hands he gave it a slow
caress.

A slew of curses followed her bellow of outrage. The
Macleod warriors were helpless to contain their mirth and ribald comments. A
thoughtful grin curved Gavin’s mouth at having the little hoyden close at hand
for the next few weeks. At least until he exchanged her for Gabriel.

Gavin and his men regained their horses and headed
back to camp.  Ella sat in front of the fierce- looking laird, attempting
to keep her back from his chest, but the arrogant man had other ideas. He
tightened his arms around her, forcing her body to his.

Just before entering their camp near the Westshire
Abbey, Gavin gruffly asked, “Yer name wench?”

Aware of his fierce reputation, she realized that
refusing was futile. People referred to him as the spawn of the devil, and
 just like his sire, all feared him. Laird Macleod’s father was known as
the devil himself, whose greed for money, power, land and women was notorious.

Her body was tense due to the searing pain in her
back, but she managed to grit out, “Lady Ella.”

“Related by blood to Lady Eleanor?”

“Aye.”

“Ward to Philip, Baron of Greystone.”

“Aye.”

Ignoring her curt tone, he asked, “Where is my nephew,
Gabriel? And why was he taken?”

She replied with a question of her own. “Is Gabriel a
Macleod?”

“Gabriel is Mackenzie.”

A cold shiver rippled through her body when she asked,
“Who are Gabriel’s parents?”

“My sister, Eva and her husband, Keir, who is heir to
Alex Mackenzie, Laird of the Mackenzie Clan. Now, I will ken about Gabriel.”

Fear, stark and vivid, hammered in her chest as she
absorbed the revelation that Eva had married her eldest brother. Dear God, she
needed to escape these men that were kin to the Mackenzie. Her father’s letter,
she remembered, stated that he would not hesitate to end her life if she
returned to Scotland.

An unexpected wave of serenity suddenly engulfed her.
Gabriel
is my nephew, my kin.

With confidence that masked her anxiety, she said, “I
have just returned from taking him to Westshire Abbey with instructions for Sir
James to return him to Scotland.”

“If what ye say is true, Greystone would skin ye
alive,” Gavin sneered as he tightened his hold on the English vixen. “Ye expect
me to believe ye would risk yer life for a Scot? Try again, and this time I
will have the truth.”

“I have told you the truth, you stubborn ox. Now,
unhand me so I can-”

Gavin blinked in disbelief at hearing this small
female’s slur. She has the airs of a noblewoman, aye, but she was dressed in
the rags of a peasant boy.

“Listen well wench,” he snapped, “Yer lies and insults
will only get ye the back of my hand, nae yer freedom. Since the baron has
stolen something of mine, I will steal something of his. Yet, ‘tis doubtful he
will want ye back. Mayhap ye are his whore, but by the looks of the rags he
dresses ye in, ye must nae be verra good. But, I suppose all English women look
the same in the dark.”

Hearing him call her a whore, Ella’s ire exploded.
“Bastard, I’ll kill ye with my bare hands.”

Gavin chuckled at her attempt to fight him yet again.
Would the wench ever learn she was no match for him, a highland warrior. His
immense size and strength, coupled with superb fighting skills and keen
intelligence made him unbeatable. Yet the instincts that demanded he treat her
gently as possible left him hard pressed to hold onto his outraged captive. He
slowly moved his palm from her stomach, up to her. . .

“Get yer teeth out of my hand, ye wee fiend,” Gavin
exclaimed.
Apparently, she does not welcome my gentle touch
.

He squeezed her body, forcing her to release his hand
while his mouth curved into an unconscious smile.
She is nae the least bit
intimidated by me.
It was as refreshing as it was uncommon for a female not
to fear him.

When the Highlanders and their captive reached camp,
Gavin dismounted then grabbed her tiny waist and pulled her down to stand
beside him. Loosening his grip on her, he was unprepared for the wee slip of a
lass to turn and throw her fist into the side of his face.

He was made of iron, Ella thought, for he didn’t even
flinch. Her eyes widened as a ribbon of faint moonlight broke through the dense
canopy of foliage above and illuminated his smiling face. She was stunned that
he was actually handsome. Very handsome.

Quite amused, Gavin hauled her over to a nearby tree
while she fought every step of the way. Due to the limited light it was difficult
to make out her features or distinguish her age. Nevertheless, he admired her
spirited nature.

Paen, Gavin’s half brother, stepped forward with rope
in hand, and sneered, “This bitch deserves to be whipped for insulting ye, nae
to mention spewing naught but lies.”

Grabbing the offered rope, Gavin then pushed her to
sit on the damp earthen floor and tied her wrist around the tree. Turning to
Paen, he said, “Nicholas and I will ride to the abbey at dawn.”

“Why? Ye dinna believe this whore’s lies, do ye?”

“We question the monks about the girl’s value to
Greystone as well as her story. They will likely confirm her tale to be false
and her value paltry. In the event that she does hold some value, we will
return home with the intent to exchange her for Gabriel.”

Ella remained silent while the Highlanders stared at
her with open hostility, but after a few agonizing moments the warriors finally
turned away. They gathered around the fire, passed around food, and continue
discussing their plans for the morrow. Fear of the unknown made her body
tremble and pride vanish.

“Please, you must let me go. My aunt is in danger,”
she pleaded. “Philip will kill her when he discovers what I have done.”

“Listen to me,” she yelled. “He will kill her when he
realizes that Gabriel and I have escaped. Please, why will you nae . . .”

Ella’s cries and pleas fell on deaf ears.  Then
Paen roughly gagged her. She realized that her captors would neither help her
nor release her until they had Gabriel. With no alternative but to listen, she
learned that Laird Macleod had sent a man named Warin to Greystone, under the
guise of seeking employment within the castle.

Gavin said to Nicholas, “As a servant, yer cousin will
be able to gain valuable information.”

“Aye, that he will,” Nicholas began, “but I canna help
wonder on my cousin’s pretense of being a servant. Being of noble birth, the
tasks that will be required of him will be verra unfamiliar.”

“Mayhap I should have sent ye?”

“Nae, living amongst the Macleod Clan all these years
has lessened my English accent,” Nicholas explained.

“Aye, ye are right,” Edric interjected. “Ye have
picked up our dialect, thank the bloody saints. Those first few years ‘twas
painful to hear ye utter even a single word.”

Gavin’s youngest brother, Tavish asked, “Nicholas, do
ye ever regret refusing yer father’s title and land? Ye could have been a
baron.”

“Nae,” Nicholas replied, “Unlike my cousin, I have too
many bad memories of Thornton. Warin may be a pain in the arse, but he proved
his loyalty to me by coming to Scotland and informing me of my father’s death
and will. Refusing was nae a hardship, and I am content that Warin is now the
new Baron of Thornton.”

The men surrounding the low burning campfire all
nodded their agreement before Gavin spoke. “Get some rest men, dawn is but
scant hours away. I will take the night watch.”

The men settled in their bedrolls near the warm fire,
while a few paces away Ella remained tied to the tree. She was too far from the
fire to gain any heat, and if she moved even slightly the bark from the tree
dug into her back. Although it was late May, there was a chill in the air, and
it made her shiver uncontrollably.

Gavin had not thought it a particularly cold night,
but then he remembered the girl’s thin garments and the feel of her slender
body. With an exasperated sigh, he stood and walked over to the trembling lass
tied to the tree. He detached her wrist from around the tree, retied them in
front, and then removed the gag before dropping his plaid over her. Since he
did not intend to sleep the ensuing hours till morning, he would make sure she
did not escape.

Ella was startled when she felt warm hands close over
her wrists, but even more so when the cruel laird draped his plaid over her
body. She instantly settled on her side, curling up in a ball, and then pulled
her bound hands to her chest.

“Thank you,” she whispered, and then closed her eyes.

Gavin stood over the lass, mystified by her words. He
was her captor, yet she thanked him. Shaking his head, he returned to sit by his
sleeping men and stare into the glowing embers of the dying fire.

A few pale streaks of morning sun gradually
illuminated the dense foliage that surrounded the Macleod warriors and their
captive. Dawn provided Gavin the light needed to see the vixen he captured
clearly.

Crouching down to where she slept curled in his plaid,
he folded back the covering that hid her face, and was shocked by each
exquisite detail. She had delicately carved facial bone and smooth skin that
glowed with pale gold undertones. The perfectly shaped oval face complimented
thin, finely arched brows, doe- shaped eyes and long lashes. His gaze lowered
to her Grecian nose, and then narrowed to her generously full lips that curved
into a pouty cupid’s bow. Her braided hair remained mostly hidden by the plaid,
but the color was like liquid silver and gold. Her ethereal beauty, he thought,
was fragile and almost unreal in the early morning light.