Page 61 of Scot of Deception
Nay one can leave? That’s odd.
“Well, I only wish tae go around the castle an’ collect some flowers fer Mistress Fenella,” Kathleen said. “I willnae stray far, I promise. The guards can keep watch over me.”
The stableboy glanced around him with nervous eyes, as though he feared Laird Stewart would appear behind him at any moment just to reprimand him. “I dinnae ken if I can.”
Kathleen walked into the stables and approached the young man, taking his roughened, mud-covered hand in hers. His eyes widened even more at the gesture and he looked at Kathleen with his mouth agape, as if he could not believe this was happening at all.
“Please,” Kathleen said. “She needs some happiness right the now an’ her favorites are growin’ just outside the walls.”
“Well, then ye dinnae really need a horse, dae ye?” the stableboy asked. It was a fair point, of course; if the flowers were just around the walls, then she had no real need for a horse. But it was not something she wanted to hear in that moment, and since the sweeter attitude wasn’t working, she quickly turned her smile into a frown.
“Ye’ll have a lady walkin’ around without a horse?” she asked, assuming a haughty air about her. “I demand that ye give me one afore I call me faither tae explain tae ye why I want it.”
Though she couldn’t help but feel a little guilty for putting the poor lad on the spot like that when he didn’t deserve any of it, it got Kathleen what she wanted. He was quick to nod and snatch his hand back so that he could prepare a horse for her, much to her relief, and she made a mental note to thank him and apologize to him later, once she would return from her search.
Within minutes, a horse was ready for her, and Kathleen wasted no time before she snuck out of the castle grounds, making sure to stay undetected and away from any prying eyes until she was far enough from the castle that she could begin looking for Blaine’s marks.
It was late in the day. She only had a few hours before the sun would set, so she had to be fast. As she rode in the general direction that led away from Castle Stalker, she kept her eyespeeled for any signs that Blaine had been there, and she soon found them; hoof prints in the soil, still fresh as if someone had taken the very same path not long before her.
It had to be him. There were no other sets of prints around, and so Kathleen followed them as fast as she could, pushing the horse to its limits as she rode. If she only managed to catch up with him before dusk, if she only managed to find him and convince him to come back so they could talk, then perhaps everything would truly be alright in the end.
Soon, it proved to be a mistake that she had neglected to bring a cloak with her. The wind whipped at her face and arms, seeping through the layers of her dress to chill her to the bone. She couldn’t help but shiver, her body trying to retain some of its heat in vain, but the farther she got, the more her spirits lifted. Surely, Blaine could not have been going that fast. Sooner or later, she would catch up to him.
As she rode, though, she began to have the strange feeling that there were eyes following her—the same feeling that she sometimes got when there were big animals around, hidden in the woods. It had to be a deer, she thought, something that gave her this strange sense but which couldn’t harm her.
It must be . . . if it was wolves, I would have heard them.
Still, the thought of wolves chilled her to the core and a bed of cold sweat ran down her back. What if a wolf pounced ather all of a sudden? What if she came face to face with a whole pack—a pack of angry, ravenous wolves who wouldn’t hesitate to tear her flesh apart and eat her?
But when half a dozen figures jumped out of the woods, it wasn’t wolves. They were men. They all surrounded her, circling her horse, which bucked and neighed in fear as it was approached by so many strangers. Kathleen had to hold on tightly to the reins and the saddle, tightening her legs around the beast so that she wouldn’t fall right off, but she had no way of defending herself. She had nothing but the horse, and the horse was too spooked now for her to guide it away from danger. No matter how she pulled at the reins, no matter how much strength she used, it would not obey her.
They’re wearin’ Campbell colors.
Kathleen’s blood ran cold in her veins. She didn’t recognize any of the men but one; it was none other than Laird Campbell.
Kathleen, in her rash behavior, had fallen right into his hands without any effort on his side. Just like when she had left her home, she couldn’t help but feel like an absolute fool. Once again, her actions had put her in danger, and this time the danger was entirely too real.
“Get off the horse, Miss Mackintosh,” Laird Campbell said. He was a tower of a man, tall and broad, and with onemovement of his arm, he could easily force Kathleen off the saddle. His graying dark hair was cropped short, blending into his thick beard, and when he looked at Kathleen, his blue eyes seemed to pierce right through her. “I willnae ask ye a second time.”
Kathleen didn’t move. She only glanced around, trying to soothe her horse with a trembling hand as she searched for a way out of this predicament. All she needed was an opening, however small, the right moment that would allow her to flee the trap and head back to Castle Stalker.
The men weren’t on horseback. Even if they had horses nearby, it would take them a while to mount them and follow her, and she had always been a fast rider.
But before she could find an opening, Laird Campbell grabbed her by the skirts of her dress and pulled her right off the saddle. Kathleen desperately tried to hold on, her fingers curling around the reins and her legs flailing as she lost her balance, but she soon found herself on the ground, landing on the hard earth with a thud.
The breath was knocked out of her as her back met the soil, her head rebounding off the ground and hitting it twice. She winced, a searing pain radiating all through the back of her skull, but she wasted no time before she tried to crawl away, forcing herself to stand on her feet.
She barely made it a few steps before Laird Campbell grabbed her again and Kathleen shrieked, her frustration and terror pouring out of her at once. She kicked and clawed at him, but the man was twice her size and she was no match for his strength. All she managed to do was tire herself out, her breath coming in heavy pants as she desperately tried to fight him off.
Even if she did, how could she ever escape? There were half a dozen men around her, all of them armed, and they would never let anything happen to their laird. She would be dead before she could even get two steps away from him.
When Laird Campbell pulled her close and knocked the handle of his knife against the side of her head, Kathleen barely felt the pain at first. Adrenaline coursed through her, keeping her wild and fighting, but soon her vision began to swim, the world going dark around the edges. As the blackness threatened to envelope her entirely, she tried to look at Laird Campbell, whose face seemed to go in and out of focus.
“Why?” she asked. “What will ye dae tae me?”
“Dinnae fash,” said Laird Campbell, in a tone that was too soothing, too sweet for a man as ruthless—for a man who had just struck her at the head. “I’ll only use ye as ransom.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
