Page 94 of Love with a Scottish Outlaw
And Finn—the little girl so afraid of the world she’d had to pretend to be a boy. Duncan hadn’t kept her safe, had let her be plunged back into her worst fears.
Duncan knew the sheriff’s men made occasional forays to the castle ruins to look for him, and he’d always been well-prepared. But this night raid had been a new tactic, and it had caught a helpless woman and child, instead of him. But at least he knew the sheriff never bothered to disguise his tracks, had always felt superior to the “savages” of the Highlands. Duncan reached a main horse trail, where tracks were obscured by others, and then he had to make a choice. The sheriff wouldn’t head deeper into the Highlands, nor would he go to Glasgow. If the rumors were true, he had three children now, at least—and a woman—and it would be the coast he’d aim for. There were two paths to Loch Lomond, while Duncan had only two men. The extra man would have to serve as the go-between. It was only a several-hour journey to the loch, but where along its coast would the men await the next stage of their journey?
And what would happen to Cat while they passed the time?
His stomach tightened, and he fought back his fear. It wouldn’t do her any good, and would only impede him. He’d spent a lot of years mastering his emotions, and he fell back on that experience now.
In the end, the two clansmen saw signs of them first, and one doubled back to find Duncan. By the time the three of them trailed the group to a hidden bay of Loch Lomond, where barren mountains rose above the tree-lined coast, it was obvious a rescue attempt couldn’t easily be made. Duncan and his men worked their way through trees at a crouch, and then on their bellies until they overlooked the rocky coast. Duncan took no satisfaction that at last Sheriff Welcker himself was there, since there were five other men with him. It was obvious by the weapons on their belts, and the way they carried themselves, that these were no mere clansmen but mercenaries. Duncan and his two men might attack six, but the odds were they’d lose, or some of the captives might die. He couldn’t take such a risk.
When he saw Cat, alive and unharmed, he thought he’d feel a measure of relief. And he did. But he hadn’t imagined how his gut would clench, his fear would threaten. She sat with three children gathered around her skirts, a young one literally clinging to her, though Cat’s hands were tied together in her lap. Finn sat nearby, stiff with trying to look brave, though she, like the other children, was bound. Cat herself, though white-faced, exuded calm.
Duncan signaled his men, and they all crawled backward, away from the sheriff’s encampment on the beach, until it felt safe enough to speak in low tones.
“Angus, you gather our patrols and bring them here.”
Angus grimaced. “I know the paths, aye, but to track them all down could take through the night.”
“I know, which is why I want Torcall”—he turned to the other man—“to go to Castle Kinlochard and tell the Earl of Aberfoyle that his sister, Lady Catriona, is in danger.”
Both men gaped at Duncan.
“Lady Catriona . . . ?” Angus began. “She’s Mistress Catherine?”
“Aye. We’ll discuss it later. Tell the earl to bring all the men he can spare.” Duncan glanced grimly back through the trees toward the loch. “I’ll do my best to delay them until ye arrive.”
“But how will ye—”
“There’s no time for discussions. Go!”
Crouching, the two men headed back toward the horses. Alone, Duncan crawled on his belly to take the measure of his enemies. He spent a long time estimating their strengths and weaknesses. The sheriff paced as if on edge, and the mercenaries calmly talked among themselves. The littlest child cried against Cat’s breast on and off.
And then a small two-masted fishing lugger sailed into the bay just before dusk, and Duncan’s hopes sank. They would smuggle a human cargo at night, because once they reached the river, there’d be more traffic, more questions during the daylight hours. The darkest part of night was creeping on them, and the moon that rose was only a sliver, which would aid the kidnappers but delay his reinforcements.
Duncan didn’t have much time to act. Slowly, he backed up through the brush, then came down to the shore of the loch beyond the bay itself. He stripped off his garments, hefted his dirk, waded into the freezing water, and began to swim around the point, only slowing when he knew his vigorous strokes might be seen. Head barely out of the water, arms moving beneath the surface, he swam to the back of the ship, where it loomed up out of the dark to protect him. He could hear the men on the shore now, saw the cook fire. Some of the sailors had rowed a small boat ashore, but there was probably still a man or two aboard.
Very quietly, Duncan explored the hull, until he found a weak spot near the surface, where a hole had already been patched. Several times he took in a mouthful of water and fought not to cough. With his dirk, he pried a hole between the narrow boards and slowly widened it. Occasionally he had to take a break from bobbing by holding onto the anchor chain. But eventually, when he put his fingers into the carved slit, he could feel water seeping in. He slowly swam out of the bay and around the point. After drying himself off with his plaid, he dressed again and made his way back to his hidden overlook.
Cat forced herself to eat some of the rabbit meat her kidnappers offered, though she didn’t feel at all hungry. They didn’t untie her, and though she could have fed herself, they took turns putting their fingers to her mouth and laughing with each other. She shuddered.
It had been a long, terrifying day, starting with the horror of watching a stranger lean over and grab a running Finn around the waist and swing her over the front of his saddle. Cat had chased after them, screaming, flailing her arms, but she needn’t have worried about being left behind as a witness. A second man had done the same thing to her, as if she weighed no more than Finn. It seemed like hours passed as she’d lain on her stomach across the horse, every pounding hoofbeat jarring her, bruising her ribs. Her kidnapper seemed quite happy to keep a hand on her backside, giving an occasional squeeze. She couldn’t see where they were going, because she couldn’t keep her head arched up long enough to find out.
When they’d at last stopped behind a copse of trees for a midday meal, Cat had fallen forward when the man pulled her off the horse, because her legs wouldn’t support her. She’d come up on her elbow, every gasp for breath making her ribs ache, and saw Finn. The girl had been cowering in a heap, arms covering her head as if to block out what had happened to her—again.
Though one man had stood guard by Finn, the other two had looked Cat over and spoken with coarse English accents. For the hours leading up to the stop, she’d frantically debated: should she reveal her identity and attempt to negotiate their release, or pretend to be a simple Scottish housewife. In the end, the latter had won out, and she figured she could always change her mind later. Luckily, they were more interested in getting back to their leader, who, she was told, would deal with her.
But on the shores of Loch Lomond, their leader, Sheriff Welcker, a thin, nervous-looking man, seemed glad that she could talk calmly to the children and keep them under control. Finn was the oldest, the only girl. One child couldn’t have been more than three years, and spent the rest of the day clinging to Cat and crying in ragged outbursts that only subsided to whimpers when Cat comforted him. They didn’t bother to tie up the littlest one. The other boy, six or seven years old, sat stiff and wide-eyed, and didn’t even seem to notice the food she awkwardly tried to put into his fingers. She got the name Adam out of the littlest boy, but the other wouldn’t speak at all, poor thing.
When Cat had seen the small ship sail into the bay, she’d begun to let go of the last tenuous hope that someone would find them. “Let me keep ’er,” one of the mercenaries said again.
Cat shuddered. This debate had been going on all day. She thought being with the children protected her some, but now that they were encamped on the shores of the loch, she could be dragged off into the woods at any time.
“Nay, she’ll fetch a pretty penny on a plantation,” the sheriff insisted.
He seemed to be enamored of the fact that he might earn more with her, as if he was only now considering expanding his commerce into the sales of women. She shuddered. When several men had come from the ship to join them, she’d tried to keep her face averted.
But then there’d come a shout from the ship itself, and the captain rowed his small boat back. Cat could hear the cursing from shore. The sheriff waited, practically on his toes as he craned to see what was going on at the ship, but the night was too dark.
The boat returned, the captain got out and swore again. “There’s a leak in the hull. We’ll no be goin’ anywhere until it’s patched, and we cannot see to patch it. We’ll be spendin’ the night pumpin’ her out to stay afloat.”
