Page 18 of Claimed Highland Brides

17

SEARCH AND RESCUE

S imon walked down to the dungeon to check on Daividh, still fuming about how he had handled the news to his men. Now there would be rumors about his friend in the garrison which would put his life in danger. He wanted to apologize and warn him in advance. Surely the laird would let him free soon and he did not want to aggravate the problems that might arise as a result of this.

He came to a stop by the cell, shocked to find the door hanging open, and nobody inside. He looked around, mouth hanging open, wondering what was happening. Walking into the cell, he bent down to examine the patterns in the dirt. From what he could tell, and he was no tracker—not like Daividh anyway—someone had been dragged out of here and by the looks of things, there had been a struggle.

He ran out of the cell, not thinking just acting, and went straight to the laird’s quarters. He knocked on the door, frantically shouting the McCormick’s name.

“Wha’s the matter?” The door opened and the laird peered out, looking annoyed.

“Something’s happened tae Campbell. They took ‘im!”

The laird frowned. “Who? Wha’ are ye on aboot?”

“Daividh Campbell, someone dragged him from his cell. We need tae find him.”

“Hold yer horses.” The laird opened the door wider, his arms held up in a quelling gesture. “Are ye saying that Campbell is no longer in his cell?”

“Tha’s wha’ I’m telling ye! They took ‘im.”

“Who? Who took him?”

“I dinnae ken!” Simon shouted. “Brigands for all ye ken, or maybe it was Hunter’s men. We need tae assemble a hunting party.”

McCormick shook his head. “Calm yersel’. Go back tae the garrison and I will handle this problem.”

Simon was already shaking his head before McCormick had finished speaking. “No, please listen, I mun’ help. I can track. We can get ‘im back afore something irreparable happens tae him.”

“Aye weel, ye can try,” McCormick said drily.

“Wha’s that supposed tae mean?”

McCormick shook his head as if to fling the words away. “Nothing. Let me be. I have work tae do.” He closed the door behind him and Simon was left staring open-mouthed at it. He turned, unable to decide what to do next. His legs automatically took him to the kitchens where he pilfered a loaf, chewing thoughtfully as he tried to decide whether to follow Daividh on his own. The men would not leave without the laird’s permission. Indeed, if Simon left, there would probably be consequences. But he could not just sit and do nothing.

A flash of red caught his eye and he turned to see Lady Fiona’s maid busily filling a tray with food and drink. No doubt they intended to eat breakfast in their chambers. He got up and followed her up the stairs, watching as she disappeared into one of the chambers on the east wing. He walked slowly toward the door, raised his hand, and knocked.

“Aye? Who is it?” a voice called from inside.

“My name is Simon Campbell. I am Daividh Campbell’s kin. I need yer help.”

The door opened at once. Lady Fiona regarding him with wide eyes. “What has happened to him?” she asked without preamble.

“They have taken him.” Simon’s voice shook with fear.

“They? Who exactly?”

“I dinnae ken but his cell is empty and it looks as if there was a struggle.”

“His cell? He was imprisoned ?” Her voice rose with every word, as her eyes widened with horror.

“Aye.”

“Why?”

Simon favored her with a wry glance. “Why d’ye think?”

She sighed, shaking her head. “My uncle...he did this?”

“I dinnae think so. But he willnae do anything aboot it.”

She inhaled noisily, nostrils flared with annoyance. “Give me time to change my clothes and I shall go and see my uncle.”

Simon stepped back at once. “Aye, alrigh’.”

The door closed in his face and he took a deep breath before beginning to pace as he waited. He hoped with everything he had that the lady would not take her time with her toilette. Time was of the essence. Wherever they had taken him, he doubted that his kidnappers meant Daividh any good. He feared that even now, they were too late.

The door opened and Lady Fiona strode out, followed by a retinue of women. Simon recognized them as the lady’s sisters and perhaps their maids as well. They seemed to be quite a number. They marched down the stairs and straight to the laird’s quarters. Lady Fiona knocked quite loudly on the door and then turned the knob without waiting for permission to enter.

She closed the door behind her and left the rest of them waiting in the corridor like a royal guard. Simon planted himself in the back, resolving not to move until he knew whether his friend was to be saved or not.

* * *

“I love ye Uncle Donnchadh,” Fiona said and could see the surprise on his face at her words when she had walked into his rooms with so much aggression.

“I too love ye, my niece. Why have ye?—”

“Ye ken why I am here, Uncle. I need yer help. Because as much as I love ye like I did my faither, Daividh is my soul. Ye mun’ help me get him back, please Uncle. Tell me where he is.”

Uncle Donnchadh blanched, looking disconcerted at her blatant honesty. “Ye’re engaged to Hunter. Ye cannae?—”

“I will gang the noo and break the engagement but this is urgent. Where have they taken him? What will they do wi’ him?”

Donnchadh looked away. “I dinnae ken.”

“Uncle Donnchadh, ye say ye love me. Do ye want me tae be happy?”

“O’ course I do but…”

“Wha’ is he holding ower ye, Uncle?”

Donnchadh looked away, hunching in on himself. “I dinnae?—”

“Ye will never be free o’ him. He will use ye until he has wrung ye dry. Please Uncle, can we no just make a stand? Tell me where they have taken him.”

Donnchadh turned to look at her, eyes bleak. “I really dinnae ken. But…” He stopped, forehead sweating, and licked his lips. “I suppose a good tracker could find them. They werenae hiding. And I suppose there is only one place really that Hunter would take him.”

“And where is that?”

Donnchadh met her eyes. “Glendale.”

Fiona leaned forward. “Uncle Donnchadh, will ye gi’ me men to follow them?”

Donnchadh sighed. “Nae. I willnae gi’ ye men. I will take ye.”

Fiona smiled. “Thank ‘e Uncle.”

“Dinnae thank me, Lady Fiona. I am the one who betrayed him in th’ first place…” He met her eyes. “Just as I betrayed yer faither.”

Fiona blinked, a few things rearranging themselves in her mind. It came to her that her uncle was saying her father’s death had not been an accident. That somehow, Laird Hunter had engineered it...with her uncle’s help. To his credit, her uncle did not plead for her forgiveness or try to justify his actions. He simply looked at her and waited.

She took in a deep, shaky breath, and tried to clear her mind. “Find Daividh and save him and then we can discuss the rest.”

Donnchadh nodded. “Aye. Come, there is a lot to plan.” He took her arm and led her to the door, pausing only briefly in surprise when he saw the crowd outside.

“Simon, gather the men. We have a man down we mun’ bring back home.”

Simon’s face brightened visibly and he nodded determinedly. “Aye sir. Right away.” He hurried off towards the courtyard as Donnchadh led the rest to his war room.

“Ye mun’ understand that he willnae let ye gang easily my dear. I think he has been planning this since ye were born.” Donnchadh shook his head.

“Aye weel, I willnae play his game. So let us plan how to get Daividh back and then we will deal with Padraig Hunter. By the by, I am coming wi’ ye, and I will need a weapon.”

To her surprise her uncle did not protest. “Aye. I have just the thing.”

* * *

Simon rallied the men as fast as he could. Daividh was generally well-liked and when the men learned that he was taken, they did not need much persuading to follow. In an hour the courtyard was full of warriors on their horses, awaiting the laird. There was some murmuring when he came up from the stables, riding his black mare, with Lady Fiona at his side on a brown horse. Nobody said anything to her directly as they all rode out, but there were many sidelong glances and raised eyebrows.

They rode fast, following their best trackers.

“Looks like they’re headed towards Glendale,” Simon said.

“Aye. Makes sense,” the McCormick agreed. Fiona cast him a bleak glance. Simon knew she was thinking the same thing he was. The man clearly wanted to be in his own jurisdiction so that whatever he decided to do to Daividh, nobody could challenge his authority.

“God, I hope they ride slow,” she whispered.

“Daividh will slow them down if’n he can.” Simon said it just to console her. He knew his friend had fought as they dragged him away, but it would be the matter of a moment to knock him out for the count. He had some hope that they would find him whole...but it was a small hope. He at least wanted to be able to bury his friend on Campbell land.

* * *

Daividh was tired. The wagon he was lying in seemed to aim for every pothole they passed, jarring his body from side to side. With his hands and feet tied, he could not even brace himself against the impact. His body ached as if someone had spent hours beating him up. Still, he tried his best to relax, knowing that when they stopped he would be fighting for his life. He had listened to the men talking and knew these were Hunter’s men. Whatever he meant to do with Daividh, the soldier knew he was not meant to survive it.

He could not entirely blame the man. If their places were reversed, he too would have done whatever he could to keep Lady Fiona. Somehow though, he did not think the laird was doing this out of love for her.

He felt a moment’s regret that he had not at least been able to say goodbye to her and tell her that he loved her, that he was happy to have met her and been blessed with the opportunity to feel this way. That in this world or the next, he would never forget her.

That if there was anyone worth dying for, it was her.

Suddenly the wagon came to an abrupt stop and he was thrown against the wooden side with violence. Rough hands grabbed him and pulled him out of the wagon, dragging him along with them. He fought to get loose, digging his heels in the dirt to keep them from moving him. Suddenly the covering over his head was removed and he blinked into the brightness of sunlight.

Hunter stood in front of him, a triumphant smile on his face. He inclined his head to the side, surveying Daividh from head to foot. “Ye dinnae really think ye would get awa’ wi’ deceiving me did ye?”

“Get awa’ wi’ it? That wasnae the intention.” He shrugged as nonchalantly as he could. “Ye cannae help who ye fall in love wi’.”

The laird reached out and slapped his face, hard. Even as his cheek burned, he narrowed his eyes, glaring at Hunter. “Ye hit like a girl. Is that the best ye can do?”

Hunter growled, gesturing roughly to his men. “Take him, tie him up. Let the ants have him.”

The soldiers holding him began to drag him to a tree. He dug in his heels, trying to pull his shackled hands from their grip, but they were inexorable. They pushed him against the tree and began to bind him with thick ropes. They started with his feet, winding the rope around his ankles and then his thighs before unshackling his wrists and forcing them around the tree. They shackled his hands together at an awkward angle and then wound the rope around his neck twice. It was so tight he could hardly get a breath to pass through. He could feel himself begin to panic as the thought of strangling to death became a reality. Hunter did not mean to make it quick.

He thought about pleading but knew that the cold man before him would only relish breaking him before he killed him. There would be no mercy to be had.

So he tried to be stoic, closing his eyes and thinking of Fiona. He tried to regulate his breathing so that he could get a bit of air into his lungs. When they were finished with him, he realized with horror that if he relaxed his hands even a little bit, the rope around his neck got tighter. He was forced to hold his hands up at an awkward angle if he intended to breathe at all.

Hunter laughed. “I would say I’ll see ye in hell but I dinnae intend to see ye again.”

Daividh said nothing. He was saving his energy for keeping his hands elevated so he could breathe.