Page 65 of Claimed Highland Brides

20

INFILTRATION

T he publican had more than a location for Gilroy MacFarland. He had a note from the man. Barclay snatched it and read it aloud.

“If ye’ve gotten this far, then there’s no much further to go. Meet me at old lady Fraser’s cottage. Leave the laird behind if ye wish to see yer wife again.”

Barclay looked up at Daividh. “He was most definitely watching us.”

“Aye, he was, but we thought so. I shall stay here, wait for Simon, and then come and find ye.”

“Ye ken he probably wilnae have Aileen at this location? ’Tis more likely a meeting spot from which he can grab me.”

Daividh nodded. “’Tis likely. But we have good trackers. I feel confident that we will be able to find you.”

Barclay nodded. “Vera weel. I shalnae rely on it, though. Either way, I mun’ get her back.”

Daividh clapped him on the shoulder. “Godspeed. We shall see each other soon.”

With a last nod of acknowledgment, Barclay set out.

* * *

Aileen opened her eyes to find herself lying on a cold stone floor, her hands tied to something above her. She tried to look up but winced as she registered the pain in her neck from lying so uncomfortably. Taking a deep breath, she prepared to call out but was sidetracked by a coughing fit. The room was very dusty, and once she was done blinking, she noticed that all the furniture in the room was broken and extremely old.

She tugged at her hands, realizing she was bound with rope and the rope anchored to something above her head. The room was shrouded with shadows, and it was difficult to see what exactly was holding her hands up. She scrabbled her feet along the floor, trying to find an anchor so she could get to her feet. The floor was slippery with dust, and it was difficult to find a purchase.

She tried wriggling her back against the wall to see if she could ease upwards slowly. Using her hands as a counterweight, she struggled to get to her feet. Her head throbbed with pain, and she had a blank spot where the memory of how she came to be here would have been.

“What happened to me?”

Whatever it was, she knew it was bad. Someone had clearly abducted her as she went about her business and if she was to venture a guess, she would say it was probably Gilroy since she had no other known enemies.

What does he mean to do ?

Her stomach rumbled loudly, and she realized she was quite hungry. Even as she thought it, a wave of nausea swept through her, and she swallowed bitter bile.

How long have I been here ?

Her foot slipped out from under her, and she ended up on her bottom again. She groaned in pain while feeling glad that no one had been around to see her ignominious fall. Taking a deep breath, she decided to call for help.

“Help! Help me! I’m trapped! Please, somebody? Help!”

“Haud yer whisht ye wee besom,” a voice growled as someone banged their way into the room. The light was behind them, so she could not see their face, but from the breadth of his shoulders and his height, she knew it wasn’t Gilroy. He was much smaller than this man.

“Who are ye?”

“Tha’s none o’ yer business. Now stop yer screeching. Ye’re scarin’ the goats.” With that, the man stepped back out and slammed the door behind him. Aileen blinked, wondering at this turn of events.

What if it’s not Gilroy that has me locked up in here? What if it’s somebody else…? But who ?

“Sir! Please, sir! Where am I? Why am I here?” she shouted and then waited, but there was no response. She began to shout again and scream for help, but the man didn’t return. Finally giving up, she began to struggle again to get to her feet. Perhaps if she could get her hands loose, she might just walk out.

Her stomach rumbled again, reminding her that it was empty.

“Will you not at least feed me?” she called and waited hopefully.

There was no response.

* * *

Barclay came upon the abandoned cottage, hiding behind some thistle bushes so he could reconnoiter. The place seemed as deserted as it looked, a crested tit hopping around in the grass, undoubtedly in search of worms. Otherwise, nothing else moved.

He waited, barely breathing for a few more minutes before straightening up and approaching the cottage with caution. There was still a door standing, and Barclay slowly pushed it open.

A piercing scream from inside the house made him jump back, looking frantically from side to side before rushing in. Aileen was there, tied to the wall and screaming for help. She seemed not to have seen him, for she continued to shout.

“Help me! Let me go!”

He dove to her side with a shout of his own. “Aileen!”

She stopped mid-scream, opening her eyes to stare blankly at him. “Barclay?”

“Aye, it’s me.”

She sagged with relief as he looked up at her bindings. Suddenly a shadow blocked the light from the doorway, and he turned to see a huge man standing there. He flung something towards them before stepping back quickly and banging the door shut. Barclay got to his feet, sword in hand, looking for the danger. There was a hissing sound beneath his feet, and something was definitely moving around down there.

Suddenly Aileen gasped in fear. “It’s a snake. Barclay, help! Help!” She wriggled madly, trying to get away from it. Barclay wheeled around, squinting in the dark. He daren’t take the time to see if he could open the door for more light. Not when the thing could bite Aileen at any moment.

“Stay still,” he hissed, eyes peeled for any movement. Aileen was gasping with fear, infecting him with it. “Can ye feel it? Is it near ye?” he whispered.

Aileen whimpered in reply before making a movement with her head that he could not see. He could hear the whisper of her hair brushing against the wall, and so he knew she was moving her head.

“I need ye to speak t’me.”

“N-No,” she whispered. “I cannae feel it the noo.”

“Good.” He reached out, still clutching his sword, and felt around until his hand closed on her wrists. They were tied to some sort of hook on the wall. He tried pulling the rope, but the knot was fastened tight. He cursed under his breath, listening for any rustling or hissing as he struggled with her bonds.

“B-Barclay, ye have to get the door open first. Ye cannae see, and the snake could strike at any time.”

He felt a surge of pride at her brave words, even though her voice was shaking so much. He knew she was right; the darkened room was one kind of prison, but being in it with a dangerous animal they could not see was making everything seem many times worse. One wrong step, and he could be bitten. They had no way of knowing what kind of snake it was or if it killed outright unless they got some light.

It's likely an adder . Scotland doesn’t have many other types of venomous snakes .

He tried to remember everything he knew about adder bites and whether they were survivable. The problem was that he had been away for a long time, and even when he had been growing up, he’d had no need to know anything about snakes.

“Alright,” he whispered, “I’m walking towards the door. Keep very still, ye hear?”

“Aye,” she replied with barely any breath, even though he could hear how harshly she was breathing. Her fear had an odor to it, and he wondered if the snake could sense it.

Taking one step, and then another, each foot placed down carefully, sword at the ready, he got to the door. He reached for the knob and tried to open it, but it was wedged shut from the outside.

“ A dhia !” he cursed in frustration before turning back to her.

“What is it?”

“Do ye ken if’n there’s a window?”

She let out a sob. “No. I dinnae.”

Slowly, he began to edge along the wall, searching for an opening. If they could just get some light, they would know what they were dealing with.

Sniveling coward! Barclay cursed at his uncle. He had come prepared for a duel, and instead, he’d been trapped in this underhanded way. With a trembling hand, he felt along the wall until his fingers hit a surface that felt both warmer and less unyielding than the dry stone of the walls. He felt along them, knowing they were slats of wood, and feeling the cold wind seeping in from the gaps between the slats. He pushed at the wood, ready to break it, but it was old and rotted and fell away with no trouble.

The rays of sunshine flooding the room made his body sag with relief, and he looked at once towards Aileen. She sat on the floor, hands tied above her head, bosom heaving, eyes wide, her hands visibly shaking.

Beside her, on the floor, curled up in a curving S, was a brown and grey snake.

“B-B-B...” She tried to say his name but was trembling too much. He put a finger to his lips, exhorting her to be silent. He did not want to set the snake off before he could move close enough to kill it. He took a step towards it, moving away from the window, and the light spread a little more, to land fully on the snake.

It rose, hissing, and before Barclay could do a thing, it struck at Aileen, its fangs sinking into her thigh.

“No!” Barclay leaped forward, sword raised, ready to kill it, but it darted away, moving with reptilian speed towards the opening Barclay had provided and disappeared out the window.

Barclay dropped to his knees in front of Aileen, sword discarded, clutching her frantically. “Oh, my sweetheart. My darling. Are ye alrigh’? Speak to me!”

Her mouth was open, and she was staring at him with wide eyes. He pushed up her gown so he could better look at the rapidly swelling wound; his heart constricted with fear. “We mun’ get ye some help.”

He picked up his sword and sawed through the rope holding her wrists. Her arms dropped, and she sighed with relief even as he frantically unraveled the knot and massaged some blood back into her flesh.

She winced. “Speak t’me. Stay awake. Are ye in pain? We mun’ get ye to the inn.”

She squeezed his shoulders. “Ye still have to get past the big man. And the door is locked.”

“Nay, nay. We’re no’ trapped. We cannae be. We mun’ get ye help.” Barclay felt as if he was losing his mind. It was his father all over again, slowly dying while there was not a thing he could do but watch.

“No, not again. God, not again. God, why? Why d’ye do this to me?”

Aileen shook him hard. “Stop it!” Her voice had stopped shaking. “We cannae wait for help. Ye mun’ straighten oot my leg, suck the poison oot.”

Barclay whimpered in protest but realized she was right. Slowly, tenderly, he straightened out her rapidly swelling leg.

“Does it hurt? I dinnae want to hurt ye.” His voice was soft and gentle, and even with the tear tracks along her face, she smiled at him.

“Ye could never hurt me. Now cut wi’ yer knife and suck. Suck as much as ye can oot.”

Barclay nodded and bent to do as he was asked, all the while praying for an answer, for a miracle.

Please, God, I cannae lose her. Dinnae make me lose her.