Highlander's Betrayed Princess (Scottish Medieval Highlander Romance) Page 8

  He went towards the Swan Inn with a pleasant feeling of anticipation. He could not wait to see her face.

  Jean was inside sweeping the floor. She gave him a curt nod as he came in, and then he remembered the argument they had had that morning when some extremely harsh words had been said.

  “I am awfy sorry aboot this morn, Jean,” he said quietly. “I was no’ very polite tae ye.”

  She sighed and gave him a tight little smile. “I wis no’ very nice either,” she replied. “We will say nae mair aboot it.” Then she went on with her sweeping.

  Iain gave her a friendly pat on the shoulder and advanced upstairs. When he got to Eilidh’s room he knocked loudly and called her name. “Eilidh! Open the door, lass! It’s me!” He waited for a few moments then knocked again, but there was still no answer. An uneasy feeling began to creep over him.

  He tried the door handle, expecting it to be locked, but it opened easily as soon as he touched it.

  The door revealed an empty room. Eilidh was gone.

  11

  Dugald had been patting his own back ever since they had caught Eilidh. What had she been thinking? He was Laird Mackie’s best tracker and he knew it. He was also his most mean and vicious guard, and he took pride in it...in fact, too much pride, according to most of his men. However, they kept on his good side because there was often a reward of goods or money for doing so. He was a good man to befriend, and if he liked someone, they did very well. If he did not, then it was best to stay out of his way.

  Before they left, Dugald had ordered a big flask of whisky from the bar at the tavern to share with his fellow trackers.

  Eilidh had intended to try to escape, but these men were experienced trackers and she no longer had any money. Even if she were able to run away, she could not provide for herself unless she sold her horse, which was her only means of transport.

  So Eilidh resigned herself to her fate. Iain had betrayed her, and now she was going back to marry fat, bloated Cormac McCarthy and spend the rest of her life in misery. Strangely enough, she did not feel sad anymore; a kind of numb resignation had stolen over her, and when they mounted their horses and began to ride back to her castle, she did not think of Iain at all.

  * * *

  A few hours earlier…

  * * *

  Jean had been watching Eilidh and Iain and had come to some conclusions which made her uneasy in the extreme. The men who had come in looking for a blonde-haired girl had not found one. However, the girl who was staying with Iain seemed suspicious. First of all, she had a huge amount of money with her. After that she started paying close attention to her and realized she did not look like a peasant girl. Her hands were soft and beautiful and she had the manners of a lady.

  But what really made her believe it was the girl who had run away from home was seeing her sending her horse away. No one would do such a thing, no matter how wealthy he or she was. Why would one let their horse go unless they had good reason? Maybe she did not want the guards to recognize the horse.

  Later that day, her suspicions were confirmed. Iain and the girl were gone for a while so she went in her room to look for clues. Everything appeared normal in the beginning but then she saw it.

  Her pillow was a bit red.

  Jean had washed so many clothes and bedsheets she could tell the origin of any stain. The girl must have dyed her hair. Maybe beetroot. Yes, she had seen that before.

  She was not a real redhead... It all made sense now! That was the only part that did not fit till then. The clothes too, but changing clothes was rather easy and anyone could have thought of that.

  She remembered that there was a reward on offer, and she knew that it was a big one, enough to keep her in comfort for the rest of her years, in fact, because she did not need much. Jean felt like the luckiest woman in the world. In the off chance the girl was not the right one, then she had lost nothing. The guards would shout at her but she would be fine. But if she was...for a moment she indulged herself in a little daydream.

  Then she called a boy from the vegetable stall across the street and asked him to take a message to the trackers, who were camped in an open field by the end of the street. She tried not to be too excited.

  Jean was bringing in washing from the yard behind the bar when the big broad guard came swaggering in, with all his subordinates trailing behind him. He looked very pleased with himself, as he usually did, and even at this time of the day, at the tail end of the morning, he was inebriated.

  “It’s Jean, is it no’?” he asked as if she were his best friend. “The loveliest lass this side o’ Loch Ness! Are you married?” He gave her a leer, baring all his rotten teeth to her gaze.

  “Widowed.” She smiled at him with as much enthusiasm as she could muster. She was used to drunks—she saw them all the time—but there was something about Dugald that made her skin crawl.

  “So your sons take care af yae!”

  “The Lord blessed me with a lone daughter.”

  “I am sure sh’ as beautiful as her mither. Is she here?”

  “She does not live with me anymore. She is married.”

  Dugald smiled.

  He thumped a large earthenware flask on the counter. “Fill it up hen,” he instructed. “Right up tae the tap an’ if ye can get ony mair in pit that in an’ a’!” He threw his head back and laughed at his own wit, then watched carefully as Jean poured the whisky in. “Is that the good stuff?” he asked suspiciously. “Because if it’s no the good stuff I want it free!”

  “A’ my stuff is the good stuff,” she replied flatly. It was one of her stock answers. Whatever clever remark anyone came out with, she had heard it before, and everyone always thought they were the first to say it.

  She placed the flask on the counter and Dugald gave her a shilling, making sure to caress her hand lingeringly as he did so, then kissing her knuckles. Jean shuddered. She felt sick, and when he looked away she wiped her hand on her apron, but it still felt dirty.

  Dugald turned to his men and called for silence. He turned to Jean. “So tell me yer story hen!” he commanded.

  Jean was very uncomfortable under the gaze of so many men, but she told her story as clearly and coherently as she could, then when she had finished she stopped to let them talk amongst themselves.

  Dugald held his hands up for silence again. “Listen, yous lot!” he shouted. “I am goin’ up tae get my hauns on a nice wee lassie, the ane we hae been lookin’ for. Dinnae be surprised that her hair is a nice shade o’ red, because she has been fleein’ fae her faither an’ needed tae turn hersel’ intae some other lassie. I am tellin’ ye noo she is very clever, an’ she will want tae trap ye so’s she can escape, so dinnae talk tae her. I am the only one that talks tae her, understaun’?”

  “Aye,” came the dutiful chorus.

  “An’ when I come doon’ there is oor reward!” He nodded towards the bar.

  “An’ what about my reward?” Jean asked, frowning anxiously.

  “Give yersel peace, hen,” the man replied, as if he were talking to a child. “I need ta mak’ sure it is the right lassie first. Ye will get it when I am certain.”

  * * *

  Jean was not reassured, but she nodded.

  Then Dugald crept up the creaky stairs, trying to be quiet, but he was making so much noise that he had to stop halfway up to take off his heavy boots.

  Despite himself, his heart was in his mouth as he crept up to her door. He had been prepared to shoulder it open, but to his surprise the key was in it and it was unlocked.

  Ye wid think she wis invitin’ me in! he thought excitedly. He listened at the door, and heard nothing. This was going to be so much easier than he had thought.

  When Dugald came downstairs again with Eilidh, she looked utterly defeated, and for a second Jean felt a stab of pity for her; she was rich and beautiful, true, but there was nothing wrong with that, and she was so vulnerable.

  Dugald was congratulating himself on having just acquired E
ilidh’s pounds, before he realized that he could make himself even richer! Half of the reward money was buried deep in a pocket of his saddlebag. He thought quickly, then nodded to one of his men, indicating the whisky on the bar. The man seized it, then they all rushed for the door. Eilidh was already out. Dugald was about to leave too.

  Jean suddenly understood what was happening.

  “Hey!” she shouted desperately. “Where is my reward? Give me my money!”

  “Sorry, hen!” Dugald took a pouch from his pocket and tossed it to Jean, but he threw it to one side of the bar so that she had to scramble to get it from far across the room. Jean tut-tutted as she retrieved the pouch, then she opened it up, expecting to hear the jingle of coins and see the gleam of silver, but instead the bag was full of tiny, useless pebbles.

  “I hope yer man won’t get up from the grave tae chase us!”

  Jean watched all the guards ride away, and saw her hopes and dreams go with them. She was too dispirited and disappointed to get up and run after them, even if she had been able to catch up. She had had a small hope, but hope nonetheless, and now there was none. She felt humiliated and guilty. The girl had done nothing wrong to her and she had betrayed her. For nothing.

  Dugald, however, was jubilant. Not only had he got away with a small fortune but he would be a hero in the Laird’s eyes—the only man who could bring his errant daughter back to him. And it had been so easy! There was this little woman standing between him and a fortune with no husband or son to defend her and no horse to ride after them. It would have been a sin not to take advantage of the opportunity.

  He thought of all the things he could do with the reward money, but he would have to keep it very carefully hidden; if it was known that he had it he might not survive long enough to spend it. There was plenty there to give him a lifetime supply of whisky and whores. He had more solid plans for Eilidh’s money.

  He had at first thought of opening a whorehouse but they were in the middle of nowhere and there would be no customers for miles around, so he would retire in a year or so, then move to Inverness where he could open up his own establishment then sit back and watch the money roll in. He had no plans for a wife and family. He could not bear to share his possessions with anyone and the thought of having children was anathema to him, so all the reward money, and all Eilidh’s money, was his.

  The best part was that fool Iain. Apparently he had met Eilidh and had fallen in love with her since he did not give her away. Or he never understood it was the Laird’s daughter. Either way he was so happy thinking about his face when he would return and Eilidh would be gone.

  That was the best day Dugald had had in a long time!

  12

  Surprised, Iain went inside the empty room very cautiously. His heart plummeted as soon as he saw the tangled bedclothes lying on the floor. Thinking that a robber might have got in somehow, he looked under the mattress for her money pouch, and sure enough it was not there. Where was Eilidh?

  She had promised to wait for him. Had she changed her mind? No, she would not do that. Even though he had only known her for a short time, he knew that Eilidh was a woman of her word. She was too scared to go outside and it was also dangerous. Someone could recognise her.

  Eilidh must have been taken against her will. Her father’s men had found her!

  Why did he leave her alone?

  Iain charged back downstairs and skidded to a halt in front of Jean. “Where is Eilidh?” His voice was anxious but angry at the same time. “Did ye see her leave?”

  Jean took a moment to think about it.

  Iain shook her. “Speak up woman!”

  “Aye...” She leaned over the counter and her dark eyes bored into his. “I did.” Those bloody morons should have given her the money.

  “She left wi’ hauf a dozen o’ thae big soldiers fae Laird Mackie’s. I am only a wee wummin. I couldnae dae onythin’. Anyhow, I ca’d them in the first place.”

  “For why did ye dae that, ya eejit?” Iain’s voice was a scream of fury. “Do ye know what they will dae with her?”

  “I dinnae care what they dae with her!” Jean spat. She pointed at the door. “That red-haired lassie—who is not a red-haired lassie, by the way—is the one they soldiers is lookin’ for. And the one in charge is the one you were fightin’ wi’ the other day. If I had not giben her away they would have probabaly burned this splace to the ground! Ye heard them.”

  Iain remembered the well-built man that was almost the same height as he was. He looked mean and cruel, and the thought of him getting his hands on Eilidh was almost unbearable to him. Then a thought occurred to him. “How did ye knaw that she was no’ red-haired?”

  Jean sighed. Men were such simpletons! “Because when I went in the room tae tidy up there wis red marks on the pillow slips,” she replied. “She dyes her hair wi’ beetroot juice I’m guessin. If ye had ever done any washin’ ye would know that!” Her voice was irritable.

  Iain nodded slowly. “Aye,” he said, very quietly. “She had tae color her hair an’ make herself look like somebody else. It was the only way she could escape.”

  “Aye’, I thought it was something’ like that. She talks like a gey fine lady for somebody that is supposed tae be a common workin’ lass. And there is ane ither thing,” Jean said smugly. “Her horse wisnae stolen.”

  “What?” Iain’s head snapped up and he stared at the little woman. “How did ye work that oot?”

  “I saw her wi’ my ain eyes chasin’ the beast awa’,” Jean answered. “She gied it a muckle great wallop on the backside an’ it took aff like a streak o’ lightnin’!” She poured herself a glass of ale to draw out the suspense before the next big announcement, because she had all Iain’s attention now and she was going to make him listen. “Aye, an’ she had a great big bag o’ money wi’ her. I heard it rattlin’ aboot an she didnae care much who saw her.”

  “So you are tellin’ me you were the one that called the Laird Mackie’s trackers?” He was furious. “Why wid ye dae sich a thing? Ye saw the other night whit kind o’ men they were!”

  “Aye, I did ca’ them!” she said defiantly. “For the reward money. Do ye knaw how much that Laird is giein’ for her return?”

  Iain shook his head. “Tell me,” he said dully.

  “Two hundred pounds!” she shouted. Then her face became sour. “An’ I didnae see a penny o’ it, even though I did jist what they told me.” She gave a frustrated groan and began to cry tears of rage and sadness. “I hae run this wee tavern a’ by myself for nigh on fifteen years ever since my father died. I have no man to help me. I thank God fer Sunday tae get a wee rest, and that is what I wid have bought with that money. Rest. I want naethin’ else.”

  * * *

  “For why did ye not get the money?” Iain was puzzled.

  “Because them so-an’-so’s took it!” she sobbed. “They ran right past me an’ ane the mean man threw a pouch o’ money at me. Weel, I thought it was money, but when I opened it, it was jist wee stones. They a’ rode away, takin’ that wee lassie wi’ them. I had nae way tae stop them.” Her eyes were glistening with tears and they began to run down her face unchecked. She was utterly miserable, and he felt desperately sorry for her. She had committed no crime; all she had done was taken advantage of an unexpected piece of good fortune that had come her way. He could not blame her for that, since he knew that he would have done the same in her shoes. She could have been punished too if Eilidh was found in her place and she had not spoken.

  He gathered the distraught woman into her arms and she did not resist him. She had been afraid of him for a little while, but now she could see that he had a tender heart and she rested her cheek against his shoulder, wishing that she had married a man like this.

  “I am sorry, hen,” he murmured. “But I cannae sympathize with you right now. I love Eilidh and I will go after them.”

  “I could tell that just by lookin’ at ye.” Jean smiled tearfully. “Thank ye for not punishing me. You
are a kind man. I am sorry.”

  “Where did they go?” Iain asked.

  Jean pointed the direction.

  “Of course the Laird’s castle. I should be goin,’” he replied. “I have tae catch up. There wis a wee bit sleet earlier. I hope it disnae hang aboot. The last thing I need is frozen feet!”

  “Let me gie ye a wee bit food,” Jean said briskly. She wrapped some bannocks, cheese, and fruit for him, then said, “Safe journey, son, an’ if ye catch that big scunner gie him a good blooterin’ fae me!”

  “I will, an’ I will enjoy it!” Iain said grimly. “Look after yourself, Jean.” Then he thanked Jean for the food and left. He had wasted enough time already.

  The sleet did not fall, but it was perishingly cold. Even though Iain was wearing two cloaks and thick socks under leather knee boots, he was freezing. His discomfort meant nothing to him, however. He could put up with numb hands and freezing toes, but he could do nothing about the wretchedness he felt. His heart was breaking as he thought about what Eilidh’s face must have looked like when she had realized that it was Iain who had given her away.

  She must have thought that she was being betrayed for two hundred pounds—a bit more than the thirty pieces that Judas had been paid for betraying Christ—but of course, she was worth everything to him. She was probably thinking by now that she was nothing more than a commodity to be bought and sold. He would buy her safety no matter what it cost him. He would take care of his sisters while he was married to Eilidh. He had decided that now, because he simply could not lose her!

  Eilidh had no idea that Iain was thinking of her at that moment as intensely as she was thinking of him.