To Yield to a Highlander, page 2
Eventually, Haydon had to pull them apart. Moving swiftly, he lifted Elsbeth and placed her on her horse.
"God go with ye, lass.” He stepped back and gave a signal to the man leading the group, and they moved ahead.
She didn’t look back.
She would only look forward.
2
Freuchie Castle
Home of Clan Grant
“I’m afraid we have no choice, Laird.” Owen Grant thumped his knuckles on the desk in front of Duncan, Laird of Clan Grant. “Ye have to stop this. Ye canna allow this marriage to take place. If MacPherson’s daughter weds the MacIntosh son, ’twill give them strength that will be a danger to our clan.”
Laird Duncan Grant sat back and listened to his second-in-command. They’d just received word from one of their spies that an alliance had been forged between MacPherson and MacIntosh via marriage between their offspring.
Duncan had hoped to make the match himself to the MacPherson lass since he’d been urged continuously by his advisors to find a bride and get some heirs on her. Marriage to the MacPherson’s daughter would secure the line and give them a strong alliance. The Grants had always gotten along with the MacPhersons and the MacIntoshes, despite the few raids they pulled on each other’s borders.
However, the strength of the two clans together could wipe them out if they wished since the Grant clan bordered the two others. A few years before, the Grants had allied themselves with the Earl of Huntly which led to the annihilation of the Clan Farquharson, but this new threat was troublesome.
Truth be told, Duncan was tired of the constant threats. He was a warrior, born and raised to fight. He and his men trained daily, and he acquitted himself well on the battlefield, but many times he wished they would all just get along and tend to their own clans so he could settle down with a wife and raise a few bairns.
Although he was quite sure he already knew what Owen had deemed necessary to deal with this new threat, he asked anyway. “What is it ye are proposing, Owen?”
He stood up straight and crossed his arms over his chest. “I say we capture the lass, and ye marry her yerself. ’Twould anger MacPherson, no doubt, but once his daughter is married to ye he would have to accept it, and things would be better for us having an alliance with the laird.”
Owen winked at Duncan. “Especially if ye get a bairn on her posthaste.”
’Twas something he’d considered himself once he heard about the possible nuptials between the two. To have a bride from such a strong clan brought to his castle, ready to wed. He could have the priest marry them immediately, take the lass to his bedchamber to consummate the marriage, and ’twould be finished. Unable to be undone.
“Aye. ’Twould probably frighten the lass to be taken from her escort and brought here, but marriage to one mon or another doesn’t make a difference.” He waved a dismissive hand at the idea of a lass caring about who she married. “And ’twill be the best way to protect us.”
Owen nodded. “Aye. And possibly the lass too. I heard the MacIntosh son is a nasty sort. She’d be better off with ye since ye are a fine mon, and after she settles down, she would be happy with ye.”
They knew nothing of the MacPherson lass except what they’d heard from those who had met her at court. She was a bonnie lass, deep green eyes, straight white teeth, smooth silky skin, and red curly hair. He would certainly not have a hard time bedding the lass.
“I suggest we take a small group of men with us. I ken MacPherson will have a strong escort for the lass, mayhap even himself since there will be a wedding. ’Tis best if we avoid any sort of a clash, just grab the lass and head straight back here. I would prefer avoiding an all-out war, which would result if many of her escorts were killed.”
The next morn, six men rode out of the castle walls with Duncan leading them. He’d left Owen in charge of the keep while he was gone. Things had been peaceful for a while, and even though this might rile the two clans, he didn’t believe it would cause more than a skirmish when their deed was uncovered.
Duncan had been laird of the Grant clan since he’d reached seventeen summers. As the only son of Laird Kerr Grant, Duncan had been thrust into the role much too soon. Well trained as a warrior, he hadn’t expected to serve as laird so young.
His da had been a young, strapping man with many years ahead of him when he was struck down in a battle and bled to death on the field before Duncan had even known.
Due to the risky nature of a Highlander’s life, Kerr had set up an advisory group of men from the clan to act on his behalf should his unexpected death occur before Duncan was old enough to deal with the clan by himself.
Had it not been for the advisory group, Duncan was certain the clan would have been in a mess. Now, at eight and twenty years, he felt he was a confident, fair, honorable leader, well respected by all members of the clan as well as the other clans.
Fighting the number of battles he’d participated in had left him scarred and weary of fighting. He was particularly sensitive over the scar on his right cheek which had resulted from too close of an encounter with another warrior’s sword. He kept a close beard to cover it, taking much teasing from his men for being sensitive about the scar.
Aye, mayhap he was. He’d always been a handsome man, with enough charm to enjoy plenty of lasses’ attention. But he was ready to eschew all of that and join with one woman for the rest of his life. If what they’d heard about the MacPherson lass was true, getting bairns on his bride would be a pleasure, not a chore.
Waylaying a lass headed to her wedding was not unheard of in the wilds of the Highlands. Duncan had just never expected to be one of those lairds who resorted to such tactics.
The group traversed the most likely path that the group escorting the bride from the MacPherson land to the MacIntosh clan would take. They rode most of the time at night, carefully making their way in the woods, keeping off the main path, not wanting to be seen by anyone traveling the road through the clans.
Towards the middle of the second night, Duncan held up his hand as a signal for the men to stop when he heard the mumbles of low conversation. Once they stopped, he jumped from his horse. “I will see if this is our group and what the layout is.”
John, one of his men, nodded.
Duncan walked as far as he could without being seen, careful not to step in a small animal hole or crunch twigs and leaves. Wee animals scattered from his path as he made his way, and an owl hooted from his perch above him. His night vision was very good, so the lack of full moonlight didn’t deter him.
He soon saw a small campfire that kept about ten men surrounding it warm in the damp woods. There was no sign of a lass, but just as he decided ’twas not the group they were waiting for, a young woman rose from behind a man who had been blocking her from his sight.
Duncan sucked in a deep breath. This had to be their lass. Beautiful, slender, long red curly hair. She smiled at one of the men, and his blood raced to his groin. Aye, he’d have no problem bedding this lass.
She made her way past the other men who seemed to hold her in high regard, no lewd remarks or leering looks. Aye, that sort of respect would be expected for a laird’s daughter. She moved to a tent that had been set up not too far from where the men no doubt would sleep near the fire.
He held his breath and didn’t move when the lass looked straight in his direction, certain she could hear the pounding of his heart. Once she crawled into the tent, Duncan hurried back to where his men remained.
“’Tis our group. The lass is sleeping in a tent about ten feet from where the warriors are camped, probably to give her privacy.”
“Did ye see MacPherson?” John asked.
“Nay. mayhap he’s following later. The bride might have requested time to settle in and get to ken the MacIntosh lad before the wedding. No matter to us. We will snatch her from her tent when everyone else is asleep.”
“How do ye want to do this?” Kevin, another of his men asked.
“I will go with two others. We can access the lass from the back of the tent. We’ll put a cloth over her mouth before we do anything else. Then drag her out and race back to the horses and head home. I’m counting on her being too shocked at being awakened in the middle of the night to make much noise.”
“While we wait, we should eat something from our bags. Once we have the lass, we will ride straight through.”
They’d brought oatcakes and blocks of cheese with them. They ate their food, passing around a flask of ale, and spoke softly, not wanting their voices to carry in the silence of the night.
As they ate and conversed, Duncan thought over their trip thus far. He was a tad surprised at how short a distance they had to travel to meet up with the group. ’Twould make it easier for them to escape and be behind the walls of their castle before anyone even knew where the lass had been taken, or who had taken her. Once they were legally married and he’d bedded the lass, he would make it known to the two clans that he had the bride.
Then he would prepare for battle, but with the MacPherson lass in his care and protection, he didn’t believe ’twould result in much except a great deal of threats and insults. He would welcome his father-in-law, and they would have peace since he had no desire to ally himself with MacPherson for the purpose of taking on the MacIntosh clan.
They wrapped up the leftovers of their food and settled down to wait. Duncan addressed the group. “We wait for a few more hours. John, ye go and watch the camp. Come back when the last mon has fallen asleep.”
“They will have at least one mon standing watch,” Kevin said.
“Aye. One of us will take him out, drag him off, and then we go for the lass.”
‘Twas growing cold, and they didn’t dare light a fire. Being warriors, they were well used to dealing with cold, snow, and rain. A few of the men played a game with pebbles, now passing around the whisky to keep themselves warm.
Duncan remained busy thinking of all the issues he had left behind at the castle that he needed to deal with once they were back and his marriage had taken place.
Before he’d left, he’d spoken with Dennis Grant on the problems the man was having with his son, Brendan. ’Twas the laird they all turned to when they had a problem they couldna solve themselves. Duncan had offered the best advice he could to the man.
Send him to the lists to train to be a warrior. It sounded as though the lad had too much energy for farming, which is what his da, and his da before him, had done. With four other sons, Dennis could afford to lose one if it would bring peace to the household. Brendan should have arrived the next morn at the lists ready for his training. That should keep him out of trouble.
They waited about three hours before John returned. He squatted next to where Duncan sat, resting against a tree. “All is quiet. There is one mon on duty, but things must have been easy for them so far because he doesn’t look as wide awake as I would like one of us to be while on watch.”
Duncan nodded. “Aye. But remember they are crossing from one clan’s land to another’s. They doona expect to run into much trouble, ye can tell that by the way they set up camp.”
Duncan stood and waved at Daniel and Gregory. “Ye both come with me.” He looked over at John. “The rest of ye be ready to ride the moment we return with the lass.”
The men stood and followed Duncan, making their way quietly through the woods until they reached the outer part of the camp. Duncan signaled at Daniel to take out the guard.
He heard nothing, but after only a few minutes, Daniel was back at his side. “‘Twas easy. The mon was asleep.”
Duncan huffed. “’Tis lucky he dinna get his throat slit.”
“Aye.”
“We will go to the back of the tent,” Duncan said. “Gregory, ye approach the lass from the back of the tent and cover her mouth with this cloth.” He held out a strip of Grant plaid. “Daniel and I will pull her out and head back to the horses.”
The men nodded. “Let’s go.”
Silently, and almost too easily, they reached the tent. With his dagger, Duncan slit the back of the tent. Gregory covered the lass’s mouth with his hand, then quickly replaced it with the plaid they carried.
That apparently awakened her enough that she began kicking and rolling around. Before she could make any more noise, Duncan and Daniel grabbed her under her arms and pulled her out. She bucked and kicked, but Duncan took her in his arms and tossed her over his shoulder.
Within minutes they were racing toward the horses, the lass bouncing on his shoulder and pounding on his back. He was worried her muffled cries might be heard, but so far, no one seemed to be coming after them.
At one point, she wiggled and almost threw herself to the ground, but he ignored it, merely grasping her tighter.
The men waiting for him were already mounted. He tossed the lass onto the horse, vaulted behind her on the animal, and they left the wooded area, quietly so as not to awaken the rest of her camp.
When they were far enough away, Duncan clamped the lass’s hands together that she’d been using to slap and punch at him, then wrapped another piece of plaid around her hands.
Garbled words spewed from her mouth, but it only made him grin. He liked a spirited lass. This one would be good in the bedchamber. He had to hold tight to her, because more than once she tried to toss herself sideways.
Finally, he leaned down close to her ear. “Ye best behave yerself, lass. If ye throw yerself to the ground, ye may end up dead instead of married and carrying bairns.”
She turned toward him, her eyes wide. “Muff noth mait?”
He assumed she was repeating his words. She would have plenty of time to speak once they were behind the castle walls. Now they needed to put as much distance between them and her escorts as they could.
They rode like the devil, not stopping until they reached the village close to Freuchie Castle. Outside of the Crow and the Cow public house, Duncan raised his arm, calling a halt to the group. He leaned down and spoke into the lass’s ear. “Do ye need to relieve yerself, lass?”
She shoved her elbow so hard against his muscled stomach he almost felt it. She mumbled some words, then pitched her head back to hit him on his chin. He raised his hand again to the men. “We doona need to stop.”
The group moved forward, and soon they were riding over the drawbridge and through the outer gates. “Close the gates and pull up the drawbridge,” Duncan shouted as the last of the men rode through.
He jumped from his horse and pulled the MacPherson lass down. She immediately wacked him over the head with her bound hands, then stomped on his foot.
Knowing how angry the lass was, he had to hold in his laughter at her poor attempts to harm him. He was a warrior, had fought many battles, practiced his sword skills daily, and no hitting or stomping by this wee lass was going to hurt.
“Now, lass. I ken ye are upset, and for that I apologize.”
She screamed something, her eyes flashing with anger. Her beautiful deep green eyes. Aye, the men who’d seen her at court were right. She was truly a bonnie lass. Pale skin just as they’d said, along with plush lips, and despite her slender size, curves in all the right places. He’d felt plenty of them as he held onto her during their ride.
“I’m going to remove yer bindings, lass, but be aware ye canna escape, so please doona try. I doona want ye to hurt yerself.”
She glowered at him but remained still. First, he untied her hands, and when she didn’t reach out to scratch his eyes out, he removed the cloth from her mouth.
He gave her a courtly bow. “Welcome to Freuchie Castle, my lady. ’Twill be yer home from now on, once we are married.”
The lass placed her hands on her hips and leaned forward. “I have no idea who ye are and why ye dragged me away from my group. Further, this place,” she looked around, “’twill no’ be my home, and we are no’ marrying.” Once more she stomped on his foot.
“Aye. I ken ye were expecting to marry up with the MacIntoshes, but I’m afraid we couldna allow that, so ye will marry me, instead.”
“Ye lackwit. I’m not marrying anyone.”
Allowing for the lass’s anger at being taken, he didn’t remind her she was speaking to the laird in a manner not acceptable. “Aye, lass. Ye are. Ye might be relieved that ye willna be wed to MacIntosh. From what I’ve heard, he’s no’ a nice mon, so ye are better off here.”
Lady Agnes Pherson fisted her hands at her sides and growled. “I am better off back at my tent.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I demand ye return me right now.”
He grinned, which probably only made her madder. “Now, Lady Agnes, ye need to settle yerself down.”
Her arms dropped to her sides. “Who?”
He shook his head, smiling at her attempt at ignorance. “Lady Agnes MacPherson, daughter of Laird MacPherson.”
She narrowed those beautiful eyes. “I have no idea of what ye are speaking, even though I understand the language. I am no’ Lady Agnes whoever, I am Lady Elsbeth Johnstone, and I have no intention of marrying ye or anyone else since I am headed to a convent in Perth.”
“Shite.”
3
Elsbeth stared at the man who had just whisked her away from her group and then stood there claiming she was someone else. She wiped her palms down her face. “I canna believe this. Ye took the wrong lass.”
“Aye.” He shook his head. “But ye look just like her.”
She stabbed his chest with her finger. “Nay. I look just like my twin sister, and she isna Lady Agnes whoever, either. Ach!” She turned and stomped away, not sure where she was going.
“Ye were headed to a convent?” His words seemed to be pulled from his chest.
“Aye.”
“Have ye already taken yer vows?”
She turned back. “Nay.”
