Plead Forgiveness (Loyalty Series) Page 4

  He pressed his forehead to hers and continued, “I will kill him for this.”

  “It was nae so bad,” she lied through gritted teeth.

  “You never were good at telling a falsehood. If I could, I would take this pain from you in a heartbeat.”

  “I know you would, Uncle James,” she said with a weak smile.

  “Your aunt...,” he began.

  “I will nae leave her.”

  “She does not plan to come this eve.”

  “I will return to Greystone, and then bring her to the abbey.”

  “Nae, don’t you see that she is giving you and Gabriel the best possible chance to escape. I like it nae better than you, but her sacrifice will not be in vain. I will return for her once you and Gabriel are safe in Scotland,” James affirmed.

  Stubborn as a mule, with the tongue of a viper, she hissed, “We will meet you and Gabriel on the morrow at Chester Abbey.”

  When James saw her sway dangerously, he realized she could not journey to Scotland. He quickly changed tactics. “Your aunt will seek sanctuary the day after the morrow. You will await her here until that time, then the monks will see you to Chester Abbey. Once Gabriel is safe, I will return for you both.”

  “I can get her out-”

  James halted her words with a wave of his hand. “I will nae leave until you have given me your word that you will reside here for the next few days. You are in no condition to journey to Scotland.”

  “Very well, but I nae like it.”

  “That is because you are my stubborn, little ox,” he said with affection as he kissed the top of her head.

  The pet name, or rather insult, he often used always brought a smile to her face. She hugged him with what little strength she had, then said, “You must be on your way, I will see myself into the abbey.”

  James eyed her for a moment, then said, “Very well. Gabriel, are you ready?”

  “Ella is nae coming with us,” Gabriel choked out.

  She knelt in front of the little boy, took his smaller hand in hers, and said, “My courageous friend, I must stay to wait for Aunt Eleanor, but ‘tis our hope to go to Scotland and make a new life there.”

  “With my clan?”

  “Aye, we will ask your clan for their protection.”

  “They will give it. Mama and Papa will love you and Aunt Eleanor.” He then looked up at James, and said, “Him too.”

  Ella wanted to laugh at the little imp, but understood why he was wary of her uncle. “If you wish, call him Uncle James. I think he would like that very much. And if you’re good, he will tell you about the land of the dragons and gryphons.”

  “What are gryphons?”

  “You will find out soon enough.”

  A look of sorrow past his features before Gabriel wrapped his arms gently around her, and said, “Thank ye, Ella. I will miss ye.”

  “I will miss ye too.”

  She soon stood alone in the clear moonlight after watching Gabriel and James ride off. The cool night air did little to alleviate the pain she felt seeing them leave without her. She doused the unwarranted emotion, mounted Apollo, and then headed back to Greystone to retrieve her aunt

  4

  Ella was half way to Greystone, riding past the high cliffs that overlooked the ocean, when she heard movement in the woods a short distance away. Despite being in severe pain, she reined in Apollo, and then listened intently. Hearing nothing but crickets at first, then suddenly a twig snapped, followed by the whine of a nearby horse.

  Sucking in a breath, she kicked Apollo into a pace that would be difficult, if not impossible to match. Leaning over her horse’s neck, she raced along the cliffs towards the line of pine trees bordering the forest entrance. Before entering the shelter of the dense woods, she turned to look over her shoulder.

  The quick glimpse confirmed a single rider, who was from neither Greystone nor Montgomery, was following her. The man must be an outlaw seeking to steal her horse, or worst her virtue.

  Aware that he was gaining on her, she shifted her weight in the saddle, and then used her left calf to turn Apollo right. Galloping to the top of a small incline, she rode along the ridge, and then abruptly cut back down the hill. Her heart pounded in her chest as she cleared the narrow brook with easy grace and began weaving in and out of trees. She headed into the shadows of the dense foliage, praying that limited light and rougher terrain would prevent the man from continuing his pursuit.

  Alas, it hindered him not at all. With righteous indignation, she used the advantage of being more familiar with the land, and then proceeded to lead him a merry chase.

  Close to an hour later and no closer to Greystone, she became aware of her sole disadvantage. More than one man was hunting her. They had fanned out, herding her away from Greystone. The precarious position she found herself in would not have been so grave if not for her rapidly depleting energy.

  Spying the English boy amidst the thick foliage, Laird Gavin Macleod slowed his steed to a halt. He was beyond irritated that his initial assumption had been wrong, and that this lad was no mere servant on some errand for Greystone. No serf owned such valuable horseflesh or would have the time to acquire the riding skills this boy obviously possessed. He surmised from the colors and insignia on the horse that he was indeed from Greystone and could provide the information needed to retrieve his nephew.

  Gavin thought back four days prior when he’d learned of his nephew’s kidnapping. Assailed by a wave of foreboding he could not explain, he and his elite warriors waited an hour past Gabriel’s expected arrival time before they departed Doran Castle.

  They rode with haste in search of the traveling party, and shortly thereafter found the bloody remains of his nephew’s slaughtered escort. By sheer luck one had lived long enough to say, ‘Montgomery’s men took Gabriel to Greystone. Ransom’.

  Gavin sent men to inform Gabriel’s clan of the abduction and he and his men were in route to England. He also gave special instructions to notify the King of Scotland of the kidnapping since it broke the peace agreement between the two countries. Gavin concluded with a warning not to follow since more than likely it was a trap to lure Scotland’s most powerful lairds into England.

  Due to the weather, Gavin and his men were unable to catch the men that kidnapped Gabriel before they secured the lad behind the walls of Greystone. The Highlanders were enraged by this setback, but devised another plan upon arriving a few hours ago. They surveyed the land and sought out those who worked within the confines of the castle for the sole purpose of gaining information.

  Gavin’s hand fisted the reins as he focused on the boy that caused them to waste precious time this eve. The whelp would pay dearly for his folly, he thought, and then kicked his heels into the flanks of his horse.

  Reining Apollo to a halt, Ella listened intently as she glanced around, praying the men had given up their chase. Unexpectedly, a horse and rider burst through the shadows, viciously yanking her from her saddle. She hit the ground hard and rolled to her stomach to ease the pain in her back. While fighting to breath, she heard heavy boots stomping towards her, and was quick to find her dagger.

  Gavin was unable to abate his unleashed wrath as he stalked the English varlet lying on the ground. Yet, when he moved to grab the foolish twit, he was mildly surprised that the lad jumped to his feet and sliced the air with a puny dagger. Beyond annoyed, the Highlander halted the dagger the miscreant wielded with one hand, grabbed the front of the lad’s tunic with his other, and then slammed him into the nearest tree. As expected, the dagger fell harmlessly to the ground.

  Hearing the thunderous beat of hooves coming his way, Gavin turned his head, shocked by the sight of the boy’s horse charging him. The animal gave an ear-piercing scream, then reared up on his hind legs a few paces away.

  “Call yer beast off or I will kill him,” Gavin warned in a low, ominous tone.

  When no response came forth, he slammed the boy into the tree again, and then kept him suspended o
ff the ground.

  The lad whimpered in pain, then spat, “Go to hell!”

  “If ye dinna value yer horse, so be it,” Gavin growled as he threw the boy to the ground, and then pulled out his claymore. He knew the reaction he would receive, and was not disappointed.

  “Nae, do not hurt him,” Ella said as she flung herself in front of Apollo.

  Gavin stared in disbelief when the beast instantly calmed. Obviously, the youth had a gift with horses, a trait he always respected. Yet, when his men approached, the horse became agitated again, moving closer to his young master.

  “Tavish, take the boy’s horse. Water him, and then return to camp,” Gavin ordered knowing his youngest brother would be able to soothe the horse while he dealt with the English twit.

  “Please be at ease,” Tavish said to skittish lad and irate horse. “Ne’er would I hurt such a magnificent animal, but for now I must take him.”

  Ella watched as the young Scot, who looked to be a year or two younger than she, walked away with Apollo. She gave no protest, fearing if she did they would harm her horse.

  Once the beast was out of sight, Gavin grabbed the boy by his tunic and lifted him off the ground with one hand. He asked in a low, feral tone, “Who are ye?”

  The boy responded by landing a solid kick to the side of Gavin’s knee, but with no strength behind the blow, he didn’t so much as flinch. However, for the ludicrous act of fighting someone of his stature, he slammed the youth into the tree yet again.

  The boy’s high-pitched cry and trembling slight body gained him no sympathy. With his men standing behind him, Gavin attempted again. “I ken my English is understandable, so I will ask ye one more time. Who are . . . ” His words trailed off when he spied a long hair escape from the boy’s tunic.

  “Nobody, Sir,” Ella whispered, unable to mask her feminine voice.

  Silence followed her statement, and then the fierce man lowered her to the ground. The hands that held the front of her tunic in that vice like grip loosened, moving instead to take hold of her upper arm.

  Her eyes widened, noticing his powerful build and incredible height. There was no mistaking his body for English or even Scottish. He was without a doubt a Highlander.

  Gavin and his warriors, stunned by the revelation, couldn’t believe that the one who gave them such a merry chase was indeed a very young lass, judging by her small frame. Holding her by one arm, he asked, “Ye be a lass?”

  Ella confirmed his belief with a slight nod. Assuming these men were here for Gabriel, she planned to inform them that the boy was on his way home to Scotland. She hoped they would believe her.

  Unfortunately, her hopes died when another Scot came forward, and proclaimed, “Warin said that Baron Greystone has a female ward, who is a distant relation to his wife. Lady Ella, I believe. Apparently, Philip claimed guardianship of her eight years ago. However, he also said that she might be nae more than his bastard daughter or his whore. Either way, the king granted guardianship to Greystone to lift Lady Eleanor’s spirits after losing her father, sister and child.”

  Ella barely listened. She was far more concerned about the way the six Scots were staring at her. They were as tall and large as oak trees, but that did not alarm her as much as the animosity radiating from them, cloaking her with scorching revulsion. She should have expected this reaction, considering the hatred the Scots had for the English.

  Gavin gently shook her arm, but his hostile tone remained when he asked, “Is that true? Are ye Philip of Greystone’s bastard daughter?”

  Refusing to clarify the misconception, she demanded, “Take your hands off me, before I-”

  “Before ye what, English? If ye dinna notice, ye are in nae position to argue.”

  Her indignation made her blurt out, “I think you a fool to believe repeated gossip told by chambermaids and old women. Now, Lord Ignorant, tell me who you are so I may be on my way.”

  The highland warriors were dumbstruck at the hellion’s outburst. Never had anyone been dim-witted enough to speak to their laird in such a disrespectful manner.

  “The lass is daft, with naught but rocks between her ears,” Edric spat in Gaelic.

  Stunned by wench’s audacity, Gavin would have laughed if his men weren’t within earshot. Instead, he lifted her by the shoulders and leaned forward so his face was near to touching hers.

  “I am Gavin Macleod, Laird to the Macleod Clan. Uncle to Gabriel, the boy your guardian had kidnapped. And one who dinna have patience for brazen English bitches.”

  With that said, he threw her over his shoulder. He used one hand to hold the backs of her legs, while she thrashed around and pummeled his back with her small fists. He was astounded that a lass, who weighed no more than a lad of ten summers, would continue to fight him.

  With his free hand, he gave her rump a hard whack, and then instantly regretted the action. The feel of her firm, perfectly shaped little bottom was too enticing, and with experienced hands he gave it a slow caress.

  A slew of curses followed her bellow of outrage. The Macleod warriors were helpless to contain their mirth and ribald comments. A thoughtful grin curved Gavin’s mouth at having the little hoyden close at hand for the next few weeks. At least until he exchanged her for Gabriel.

  Gavin and his men regained their horses and headed back to camp. Ella sat in front of the fierce- looking laird, attempting to keep her back from his chest, but the arrogant man had other ideas. He tightened his arms around her, forcing her body to his.

  Just before entering their camp near the Westshire Abbey, Gavin gruffly asked, “Yer name wench?”

  Aware of his fierce reputation, she realized that refusing was futile. People referred to him as the spawn of the devil, and just like his sire, all feared him. Laird Macleod’s father was known as the devil himself, whose greed for money, power, land and women was notorious.

  Her body was tense due to the searing pain in her back, but she managed to grit out, “Lady Ella.”

  “Related by blood to Lady Eleanor?”

  “Aye.”

  “Ward to Philip, Baron of Greystone.”

  “Aye.”

  Ignoring her curt tone, he asked, “Where is my nephew, Gabriel? And why was he taken?”

  She replied with a question of her own. “Is Gabriel a Macleod?”

  “Gabriel is Mackenzie.”

  A cold shiver rippled through her body when she asked, “Who are Gabriel’s parents?”

  “My sister, Eva and her husband, Keir, who is heir to Alex Mackenzie, Laird of the Mackenzie Clan. Now, I will ken about Gabriel.”

  Fear, stark and vivid, hammered in her chest as she absorbed the revelation that Eva had married her eldest brother. Dear God, she needed to escape these men that were kin to the Mackenzie. Her father’s letter, she remembered, stated that he would not hesitate to end her life if she returned to Scotland.

  An unexpected wave of serenity suddenly engulfed her. Gabriel is my nephew, my kin.

  With confidence that masked her anxiety, she said, “I have just returned from taking him to Westshire Abbey with instructions for Sir James to return him to Scotland.”

  “If what ye say is true, Greystone would skin ye alive,” Gavin sneered as he tightened his hold on the English vixen. “Ye expect me to believe ye would risk yer life for a Scot? Try again, and this time I will have the truth.”

  “I have told you the truth, you stubborn ox. Now, unhand me so I can-”

  Gavin blinked in disbelief at hearing this small female’s slur. She has the airs of a noblewoman, aye, but she was dressed in the rags of a peasant boy.

  “Listen well wench,” he snapped, “Yer lies and insults will only get ye the back of my hand, nae yer freedom. Since the baron has stolen something of mine, I will steal something of his. Yet, ‘tis doubtful he will want ye back. Mayhap ye are his whore, but by the looks of the rags he dresses ye in, ye must nae be verra good. But, I suppose all English women look the same in the dark.”

  Hearing
him call her a whore, Ella’s ire exploded. “Bastard, I’ll kill ye with my bare hands.”

  Gavin chuckled at her attempt to fight him yet again. Would the wench ever learn she was no match for him, a highland warrior. His immense size and strength, coupled with superb fighting skills and keen intelligence made him unbeatable. Yet the instincts that demanded he treat her gently as possible left him hard pressed to hold onto his outraged captive. He slowly moved his palm from her stomach, up to her. . .

  “Get yer teeth out of my hand, ye wee fiend,” Gavin exclaimed. Apparently, she does not welcome my gentle touch.

  He squeezed her body, forcing her to release his hand while his mouth curved into an unconscious smile. She is nae the least bit intimidated by me. It was as refreshing as it was uncommon for a female not to fear him.

  5

  When the Highlanders and their captive reached camp, Gavin dismounted then grabbed her tiny waist and pulled her down to stand beside him. Loosening his grip on her, he was unprepared for the wee slip of a lass to turn and throw her fist into the side of his face.

  He was made of iron, Ella thought, for he didn’t even flinch. Her eyes widened as a ribbon of faint moonlight broke through the dense canopy of foliage above and illuminated his smiling face. She was stunned that he was actually handsome. Very handsome.

  Quite amused, Gavin hauled her over to a nearby tree while she fought every step of the way. Due to the limited light it was difficult to make out her features or distinguish her age. Nevertheless, he admired her spirited nature.

  Paen, Gavin’s half brother, stepped forward with rope in hand, and sneered, “This bitch deserves to be whipped for insulting ye, nae to mention spewing naught but lies.”

  Grabbing the offered rope, Gavin then pushed her to sit on the damp earthen floor and tied her wrist around the tree. Turning to Paen, he said, “Nicholas and I will ride to the abbey at dawn.”

  “Why? Ye dinna believe this whore’s lies, do ye?”