Timeless Tales of Honor (6 page)

“Nay!” Aishlinn shuddered at the thought. She despised the English for what they had done to her people.

“Ye be one of us then!” Duncan said happily. He knew his people would welcome her with open arms, especially once they learned she had killed the earl. Having learned what he had of the lass and her life thus far, the possibility of helping her find her real family delighted him.

“We will help ye find yer people then, lass,” he told her.

His next thought worried him. “I just hope it not be any we have feuds with!” He would push that thought aside for now and concentrate on getting her to the safety of his castle.

Aishlinn had long ago given up hope of ever finding her blood family or the truth of her own existence. The prospect of finally finding the family she had dreamt of since her mother’s death brought an overwhelming sense of joy to her heart. There was however, a part of her that remained fearful. What if they were all gone and that was the reason her mother had ended up in the England? Or what if they did not want her?

Knowing nothing of the inner workings of Highlander clans, it mattered not to Aishlinn if her own clan feuded with Duncan’s. After all, these men had saved her life. Feud or no, she would always be grateful to them for that. It was strange for her to think there was the chance of finally finding her real family. As she lay her head upon Duncan’s chest, she prayed they would be as nice as these men.

T
hey rode
hard and fast for Dunshire, with Aishlinn sleeping atop Duncan’s lap. He held her closely, wrapped in plaids with her head in the crook of his arm. After several hours of holding her so tightly, his arm began to ache. When he thought of all the lass had gone through, he decided he could put up with a little pain.

It was becoming increasingly difficult for Aishlinn to breathe or to remain awake. Duncan repeatedly apologized for the fast pace at which they rode but he knew that the sooner they reached his home, the better her chances of surviving. Pausing only long enough to eat, stretch their legs, and rest their horses, they raced toward Dunshire.

It was difficult to sleep being jostled about like a sack of leeks, riding along at a full run. Sleep did not come any easier at night when they stopped to rest, for that was when the nightmares came. In them she was always hiding; in the snow, a tree, or a grotto -- it mattered naught. Each time she was found by the king’s soldiers and carried back to Penrith. She would wake frequently, fighting for air and with a churning stomach. The dreams were telling her no matter where she hid the soldiers would find her.

Even though she was covered in plaids and slept as near to the fire as she could, it was still difficult to become warm. When the dreams frightened her to the point of waking, she would find that Duncan and Rowan were sleeping very close to her. They guarded her as if she were the Queen of Scotland and had forgone their own warmth and comfort by covering her with their own blankets.

They would not stop for long for they did not know how close the English might be. The pace was brutal, but necessary if they were to get the lass to the safety of their clan. Duncan and his men were used to sleeping little and riding hard for they were warriors. But the lass, he was certain, was not trained for such things.

They would sleep for only a few hours before Duncan would startle her awake. She knew he was not doing it purposefully; it was the dreams, the pain and the fear that rippled through her body each time she woke. “Haud yer wheesht!” he would quietly say to her. She did not know what those words meant but assumed it to be some kind of Celtic or Scottish greeting for good morning.

Aishlinn had no idea how far they had traveled for she was in and out of awareness far too many times to count. She longed for a hot bath and a soft pallet to collapse onto. She yearned to sleep peacefully, without the terrifying dreams that haunted her each time she closed her eyes.

Duncan was growing fearful that the lass would not survive the ride back to Dunshire. The longer they rode the more she slept and the more he worried over her. When he would feel her body fall limp in his arms he would explain to her the need for her to remain awake. Doing what he could to keep her from falling into a sleep she might not wake from, he told her stories. He would describe the lands that surrounded his castle and tell her tales of his childhood, his clan, and the family that would welcome her with open arms.

They had been riding nearly nonstop for two days when Duncan realized he had to get her off the horse and into a bed. “Manghus,” Duncan said, “We be no’ far from Aric McDonald’s cottage. I fear the lass will no’ make it the full trip to Dunshire.”

Manghus and Rowan nodded their heads in agreement as they began to veer their horses northward. Duncan’s clan held good relations with the clan McDunnah of which Aric was a member. They knew Aric would offer them shelter, food and protection if needed. His wife Rebecca would tend to Aishlinn’s injuries without question.

Arriving late in the morning, Duncan and his men bounded down a small hill that led to Aric’s cottage. Aric’s sons had been playing out of doors when they caught sight of Duncan and his men. The boys raced into the cottage to announce that riders approached.

Aric McDonald came rushing outside as Duncan and his men stopped in front of the cottage. He was a mountain of a man, with light coloring and arms as big as tree trunks. Aric took one look at the lass sleeping in Duncan’s arms and began belting out orders for the boys to fetch water and then tend to the horses.

“What the bloody hell happened to her?” Aric barked as Rowan took the lass from Duncan. She lay limp in his arms while Duncan dismounted then took her from him.

Aric led the way into his cottage where his wife Rebecca was in their small kitchen with their young daughter preparing the mid day meal. “What is all the commotion, Aric?” Rebecca asked as she turned to see the group of tall MacDougalls walking into her home. Her eyes grew wide at the sight of the lass lying in Duncan’s arms.

“Och!” Rebecca said. “What the bloody hell happened to her?” She quickly went across the room to draw open a curtain that hid a bed. Duncan gently laid Aishlinn upon it while Rebecca went about examining the wounds. She told her daughter to fetch bandages and warm water.

“Again, I ask what the bloody hell happened to her,” Aric said, a bit more quietly this time.

“It’s a story best not told in front of yer little ones.” Duncan said as he stood staring down at Aishlinn who was still and limp upon the bed.

“This is at a man’s hands,” Rebecca whispered through angry teeth. She could see the faint markings left by fingers around Aishlinn’s neck.

“Aye,” Rowan said. “And again, not to be told in front of yer bairns,” he warned.

Duncan spoke up. “Can we talk outside Aric, away from yer children?”

With a quick nod of his head, Aric led the MacDougall men out of doors and to a spot behind the barn. “Who is that lass and who the hell did such a thing to her?” There could be no doubt the man was angry.

“Her name be Aishlinn,” Duncan said as he dusted the dirt from his trews. “And ’twas the Earl of Penrith that did it to her.” Aric’s eyes turned to dark slits at the mention of the earl’s name.

“What in God’s name for? What could such a wee lass as that done to him?” Aric knew the answer before he finished asking the question. “The whoreson!” he said as he ran a hand through his hair. “She be a Sassenach?”

“Nay,” Rowan offered. “She be a Highlander, or at least her mum was. Her mum died when the lass was but a bairn and she be raised by a stepfather and three brothers. The stepfather now be dead. ’Twas her brothers that sent her into the hands of the earl.”

Aric listened intently, his face growing redder as his anger increased. “What of her father then? Her blood father?” he asked.

Manghus shook his head. “She says he died before she was born.”

“A Highlander orphan, then she be?” Aric asked. “What clan?”

“She ken no’. I think her stepfather kept it from her,” Duncan said.

“It gets better,” Manghus said as he crossed his arms over his chest and hung his head.

“Better?” Aric asked. “What do ye mean?”

Duncan had to tell Aric the truth for a band of English soldiers could be fast approaching. “The lass laying in yer bed, Aric?” Duncan said. “She killed the Earl of Penrith.”

Aric attempted to speak but could not get the shock dislodged from his throat and ’twas nearly all he could do to keep his chin from falling to the ground. “She killed him?” he whispered. “How in the hell did such a wee thing as that kill the earl?”

“Stabbed him,” Manghus said. “With his own dagger. We ken no’ much else of it.”

“We be fairly certain she stabbed him because he was rapin’ her,” Rowan said angrily.

Aric glared at the men before him. “So someone finally gave that bastard what he deserved?” There was not a clan in all of Scotland who did not despise the Earl of Penrith. Once word spread of his death, great celebrations would most likely take place.

“Aye,” the MacDougall men said in unison.

Aric’s chest puffed out as he crossed his arms. “Then she must be a McDunnah, with courage like that to no’ only take such a beating from the earl, but to kill him as well!” A sly smile came to his face.

“That is a possibility, Aric,” Duncan replied. He was not ready yet for anyone to lay claim to the lass. “We’ve sworn our allegiance to the lass and will be taking her to Castle Gregor with us. We’ll sort out who she belongs to later. Right now, we have to get her healed enough to ride. The English could be closer than we realize. I’ve sent Richard and Findley to scout nearly three days ago. We’ve no’ heard from them since.”

With a band of English soldiers possibly descending upon his home at any moment, Aric decided it best not to argue to whom the lass might belong. The McDunnah clan was small in comparison to the MacDougalls and he knew theirs would be a better match against the English than his own would be.

“Well then,” Aric said as he led the men around the barn, signaling the conversation was done. “We best see to it that the lass is well cared for.” He turned and looked at the travel worn MacDougalls before him. “I’ll make haste and warn Caelen that there might be trouble a comin’. While I’m sure we’d do well against the English lads, I think it might take more than the four of us to do it.” Caelen was the chief of the Clan McDunnah, a good friend of Angus’, and hated the Earl of Penrith as much as any other Scot.

While Duncan did not want word to spread that they now protected the young lass who had killed the earl, he did not relish in the thought of only the four of them against the English. “Aric,” Duncan said as he followed him into the barn. “I fear if word gets out what happened, then it could spread to the ears of the English.”

“Aye,” Aric said as he began to saddle a horse. “That’s why I’ll be speaking to Caelen and Caelen alone. If word gets to the English that we have her here...” his voice trailed off for he did not want to think of the battle that most assuredly would ensue. “We’ll come up with a different story of how the lass came to be in yer hands. Dunna worry of it.”

Within minutes Aric was mounted and leaving to meet with Caelen. As he rode away from his home, he sent a silent prayer up that the good Lord would keep his family as well as the MacDougalls safe until his return.

B
eams of light
streamed down through the trees and cast brilliant threads of gold onto the fresh spring grass and blooming flowers. A tall, strong man stood in the center of the trees. Light glimmered and danced all around him. It glanced off his fine clothes, his hair and the sword that hung at his side. Though she did not know his name, could not see his face, she knew the man standing before her was her father, her real father.

Warmth radiated from a smile she could not see but could only feel. With open arms he stood waiting for his little girl. He scooped her up and squeezed her so tightly that she struggled to breathe. He was whispering to her that she was bonny and sweet, and he was here to protect her. She need not worry or be frightened ever again.

In that place between dreaming and waking, a small voice spoke her name. It was whisper soft, as if it were being carried on the wings of a butterfly. Something warm and soft caressed her cheek. Weakly, she batted her hand at it, demanded it go and leave her to the dream. It ignored her quiet order and continued its soft assault. She attempted to curse at the offender, but her mouth was so unbearably void of moisture, her curse sounded more like a dry and husky grunt.

When her eyes fluttered open, the bright sunlight burned at them. She squeezed them shut, attempted to mutter another curse, and buried her head into the pillow. When the fog finally lifted, she realized she was in a bed and lying on her stomach. There was something damp and cold upon her back. She tried to lift her head to catch a glimpse at whatever it was, but the movement caused her head to throb.

When she made another futile attempt to lift it again, she heard a very soft voice speaking in her ear. She managed to turn her head, and saw that the voice belonged to a little girl. The child possessed cherubic, rosy cheeks and bright blue eyes that sparkled in the sunlight.

It was a little girl, no more than eight, who had been whispering Aishlinn’s name. She smiled sweetly before disappearing. Aishlinn wondered for a moment if she was still dreaming or had finally succumbed to death and now awaited entrance into heaven. With another move of her head, the relentless pounding proved she was not in heaven. Hell perhaps, for the pounding had a decidedly hell-like quality to it.

She had only closed her eyes for a moment when she heard Duncan’s voice. “Lass! Yer awake!” He was crouched beside her and looked quite relieved, if not downright happy, to see her. It was as if they were long lost friends who had not seen each other in months. She thought it was quite odd.

Aishlinn tried to speak. Her mouth and throat were as dry as sand, and she couldn’t manage a whisper. She tried to roll over to sit but was immediately stopped by Duncan. “Nay, lass! Lay still, now.”

She was thirsty beyond all measure. She raised her hand and pointed to her open mouth.

“Be ye hungry?” she heard Rowan ask from behind her. She cringed and shook her head and realized instantly she should not have done that. The throbbing had turned into an all out assault, as if someone were hitting her with a large tree limb.

“Thirsty, then?” Duncan asked. She nodded her head yes and knew that should she move it again, her head would definitely explode.

Within moments someone had handed Duncan a tankard of water. Aishlinn pushed up to rest on her forearms as Duncan carefully held the tankard to her lips. The water was as cold as the winter snow and it made her teeth hurt, but it felt magnificent as it hit her tongue and traveled happily down her throat. With her thirst finally quenched she collapsed back into the bed. “Are we at your castle?” she managed to ask.

Duncan smiled at her. “Nay, lass, we’re at the home of friends. I swear ye were near death when we arrived!” he told her. “Rebecca and Mary have been taking good care of ye.”

Without a clue as to who Rebecca and Mary might be, she lifted her torso and rested on her arms again to look about the room. A draft was floating in from somewhere and when she lowered her head to stretch her neck, she noticed she was completely naked from the waist up! Only the bottom half of her body was covered with a blanket. If it were possible to die from embarrassment she very well could have when she felt cold air dancing gingerly across her naked bosom. Aishlinn gasped, covered her bare chest with her arms and plopped face down into the pillow. 

Duncan and his men were doing their best not to laugh. Aishlinn spoke into her pillow, demanding to know where her clothes were, but the men could not understand her muffled words. She kept her face buried and thought death from suffocation might not be a particularly bad way to die. It most assuredly would be better to die that way than from the embarrassment that flooded throughout her weary body.

Several agonizingly long moments passed when she heard a woman’s voice and the woman did not sound particularly happy. The woman was yelling something in Gaelic to which Duncan responded in kind, but he was not nearly as loud or angry sounding as the woman. His voice resembled that of a child who had just been chastised by his mum. Moments later Aishlinn could hear the sounds of boots as they scurried across the floor, quickly followed by the sound of a slamming door.

“The eejits be gone now, lass.” The woman’s voice was softer now and very near Aishlinn’s ear. “I booted their arses out the door, and they’ll not be comin’ back ‘til we’ve got ye properly covered.”

Aishlinn took a chance and rolled her head to the side to see who was speaking to her. The air cooled her burning cheeks and it felt good to take fresh air into her lungs. A very beautiful woman with dark blonde hair and blue eyes was crouched next to the bed and she was smiling at Aishlinn. “I be Rebecca, lass. I had to put salves and bandages on yer back. The cuts were starting to get infected, but I believe I’ve managed to stop the worst of it for ye.” She brushed hair from Aishlinn’s eyes. “How do ye feel lass?”

“Besides mortified?” she whispered.

“Och! Dunna worry over it, lass. The hellions didn’t see as much as they could have!”

Somehow that did nothing to make Aishlinn feel better. The simple fact that they had seen her naked back and portions of her naked bosom was enough to make her skin burn red again. She didn’t know which hurt more at the moment, her back or her pride.

“Let me take a look at those cuts of yers, lass.”

Aishlinn remained as still as she could whilst Rebecca tenderly lifted the bandages and examined the cuts. “They be healin’ quite nicely! I’ll need to be puttin’ on fresh bandages. I imagine ye’ll be wantin’ to move those achin’ bones a bit fer ye been on yer belly for two days now.”

“Two days!” Aishlinn was shocked.

“Aye. Ye were in a verra sorry state when the MacDougalls brought ye here. Ye’ll be needing plenty more rest lass, before yer healed proper.”

Aishlinn sighed for she could not remember a time in her life when she had slept for so long. Unsuccessfully she had tried to count the days since she had fled Castle Firth, but too much of it was tangled and blurred. It was like trying to catch a clear glimpse of the roots of a gnarled auld tree whilst staring at it through a piece of linen. ’Twas impossible as well as a bit maddening.

Rebecca took her time to remove the old bandages, careful to cause as little discomfort for Aishlinn as possible. Once the bandages were removed, she carefully cleaned the cuts with warm water before she applied the salve.

The salve more than stung, it downright burned. Aishlinn hissed softly and dug her fingers into the mattress. She tried to relax, for when she tensed, her muscles were quick to remind her why she was here. When she took a deep breath, while still painful, her ribs no longer screamed in agony. It was quite a relief to be able to take in a breath and not wish for instant death.

“I’m sorry for being such an inconvenience to you, Rebecca.” She was trying to think of something, anything other than the burning in her back.

“Och! ’Tis not an inconvenience to me, lass,” Rebecca said as she began to apply fresh bandages. “May the bastard that done this to ye rot in hell for all eternity!”

Aishlinn was certain the bastard in question was doing just that, and for a moment wondered if she should share that fact with Rebecca. Not knowing what Rebecca’s opinion of her was at the moment, she decided against it.

Rebecca applied the last of the bandages and began to wrap long strips around Aishlinn’s torso to hold them into place. It wasn’t easy for Aishlinn to suffer such an indignity as having a complete stranger care for her in this manner, nor to be seen naked. Aishlinn held her breath and tried to remind herself that she had suffered other mortifications, many far worse than her current predicament, and she should be well used to them by now.

When she was finished, Rebecca patted her shoulder. “’Tis the best I can do for now, lass. I’m afraid I dunna have a gown small enough for ye. Why, I’d have to cut me own in half for it to fit ye!”

It was impossible from her current position to judge Rebecca’s size. There was no doubt however, that the woman had been blessed with a very ample bosom. ’Twas a blessing Aishlinn was certain she would never be bestowed with.

“I’ve a nightdress that’ll do fer now,” Rebecca told her as she helped Aishlinn to roll over and sit up. It was a struggle, for her muscles ached from the beating and lack of use, but they finally managed. “Should be plenty of room in it so it willna rub.”

Rebecca had been right. There was room enough in the nightdress to hold two of Aishlinn but at least she was no longer naked. When she attempted to lie back in the bed, her cuts insisted ’twas not the best of ideas. She lay instead on her side and found she was growing quite sleepy again.

Rebecca stepped away and returned a few moments later. “I’ve broth and warm bread for ye, lass. Ye’ll be needin’ yer strength about ye, for ’tis another two days to Castle Gregor.”

Aishlinn drank and ate as much as her stomach would tolerate. She repeatedly thanked Rebecca for the kindness she and her family were showing her, to which Rebecca repeatedly told her ’twas not a bother and to quit worrying so. It did not take long for her to fall asleep after eating, but not before she sent a silent prayer of thanks to the Good Lord for putting her in the care of such kind and good people.

N
ight had fallen
before Aishlinn woke again. Although she had never been drunk before, Aishlinn imagined her current state might closely resemble the after effects of being in one’s cups far too long. She blinked a few times, rubbed her eyes and winced for they were still quite swollen and sore.

The little girl was sitting on the edge of the bed and looking quite concerned. Aishlinn could not help but smile at her. “Who are you?” she asked.

“I be Mary,” the child answered quietly. “Does it hurt much, Lady Aishlinn?”

“Aye, but only a bit, thanks to the good care you and your mother have shown me.” Her little face beamed at Aishlinn’s compliment. “Mamma says I’m a very good helper. And I’m smart too.” She continued to stare at Aishlinn’s face. “Mamma says a very bad man did that to ye,” she said. “Was it him that cut yer hair too?”

“Nay. My brothers did that. As a punishment.” Regrettably the words were out of her mouth before she could stop them.

Mary’s look of concern turned instantly to one of anger. “That’s mean! Did ye beat them up for it?” she asked as she thrust her tiny hands to her hips. Aishlinn could only wish she had possessed the nerve at the time to have beaten them senseless. She noticed that Mary was casting a deathly glare at someone. Aishlinn turned to see that Mary was staring at two boys, most likely her older brothers. They had the same dark blonde hair and blue eyes that Mary possessed.

“We’d never do that to ye, Mary,” the oldest boy said sternly.

“Aye. Papa would beat ye dead if ye did!” She stuck her tongue out at the two of them.

“Aye. But only a coward would do such a thing.” With heads held high, both boys left the room.

Very soon Duncan appeared with Rowan and Manghus behind him. Duncan looked relieved to see Aishlinn awake.

“Mary,” Duncan said. “Could ye leave us be for a moment, lass? I’ve a need to speak to Aishlinn privately.”

The little girl crawled down from the bed and returned her hands to her hips. “Ye’ll take care of her well, won’t ye?”

“I do so promise, Mary,” Duncan said with a warm smile. Mary studied the men for a moment. Apparently convinced they would take proper care of her charge, she disappeared behind the curtain.

“How be ye, lass?” Duncan asked.

“Better than when you found me,” Aishlinn told him.

“Good,” Duncan said as he put a hand to her forehead. Although it was the simplest of gestures, Aishlinn was not prepared for the way his hand felt upon her skin. Men never touched her that way. Tears welled and she fought hard to hold them back.

“What be the matter lass?” Duncan asked. “Are ye in pain? Do ye need Rebecca?”

Aishlinn shook her head. “Then why do ye cry?” he asked.

How does one explain to a complete stranger that his simple touch brought back a flood of memories and feelings she had not experienced since she was a bairn? She did not have the words to express how she felt at that moment. “I know not why you’re all being so kind to me!” she blurted out. “You know me not and yet you all watch over me as if I were one of your own.”

“We be Highlanders, lass!” he said as if that was all the explanation necessary. He gently brushed the tears from her cheek. “We help those who need it.” For Duncan, it was simply how things were done. You helped those who needed it.

He gave her a few moments to compose herself. “Do ye think ye might be able to travel in the morning lass?” he asked her. “We dunna ken how close the English be. We’ll be much safer at Castle Gregor,” he told her. “But if ye feel not up to it yet--” Aishlinn stopped him with a wave of her hand.

“I want to waste no more time lying abed,” Aishlinn said. “I could ride now if we needed.” It was a little lie, but one she felt necessary. She knew the longer they lingered here, the closer the English might be nearing. “I want no harm to fall on this family.”