A Fire Within (These Highland Hills, Book 3) (10 page)

Rumor also had it that Darach MacNaghten, promising to
make the now unmarriageable girl his wife, had lured her from
her home one cold, late autumn day. The lass's serving maid had
even produced a note to that effect, signed by Darach, so there
was no doubt in anyone's mind that the ill-fated girl had gone
out to meet him. His intent, however, had evidently not been
that of a lover's. He had instead supposedly killed her, some said
for being the unwitting cause of his exile.

In the end, in addition to his new status as a clanless, broken man, Darach MacNaghten had also accumulated the title of
murderer and outlaw. An outlaw with a price on his head. An
outlaw who now had once more stepped outside the bounds of
decent, God-fearing folk and added abduction to his charges.

A shiver rippled through Caitlin. He had said that he didn't
shoot women. But then a man as powerfully built as he didn't
need any weapons other than his hands. Hands that had already
broken the neck of one innocent lass.

From his earlier conduct with her, she could see that he had
no morals, that he would seize what he wanted when he wanted
it, and not suffer a moment's compunction in the doing. And, to
add insult to injury, he had taken full advantage of the Highland's
hallowed code of hospitality, using it for his own nefarious ends.
He was a thief, liar, and heartless fiend. Somehow, some way, she
must find a way to escape him ... before it was too late.

Caitlin glanced down at her bound hands and feet. As long
as she remained in this condition, escape was impossible. At the
very least, she would need her feet untied. She must find some
way to convince her captor to do that and, once done, not feel
the need to bind them again.

A plan began to form in her mind. Darach MacNaghten was a
man, after all, and a particularly arrogant one at that. All she had
to do was allow him to imagine she was cowed and of no threat
to his greater intelligence and cunning. A task, Caitlin thought
with a tiny smile, that should be simple enough for a woman of
her cleverness and mettle.

They made camp at twilight beneath a rocky overhang deep
enough to provide shelter from the light rain that soon began to
fall. With the cover of the rain, it was safe to build a small fire
with wood Kenneth managed to gather before it became too
wet. After tethering the horses and bringing in the saddles and
other gear, Darach set about rifling through the contents of the
food basket.

"Quite a feast for such a wee outing," he said as he unwrapped
cloth parcels of a strong, white cheese, a loaf of fresh baked bread,
a generous slab of sliced roast pork from last eve's meal, and a
dried apple tart, before extracting a large leather flask of cider.

"Not that I'm complaining, mind ye." He glanced up at Caitlin
with a grin. "With all the switchbacks to throw off our pursuers, it may be awhile before we reach a village where we can buy
provisions. In the meantime, this fine meal will provide us with
at least supper and tomorrow's breakfast."

"I'm pleased we could be of service," she muttered, glaring
at him.

Darach produced a knife and hacked off a piece of bread and
cheese. To that, he added a slice of pork. "Here," he said, offering it to her.

Caitlin wrinkled her nose and shook her head. "I've lost my
appetite. Something about the company, I'm sure."

"Suit yerself" With a chuckle, Darach instead handed the food
to Kenneth. "Of course, growing weak from hunger won't sit well
with yer plans to escape, ye know." At the angry look Caitlin sent
him, he smiled and shrugged. "I'm no fool, and well ye should
understand that first and foremost. I've taken yer measure a long
ways back. But it suits me fine to have ye weak and helpless.
Makes this sorry affair all that more easy on me, it does."

"Give me that!" Caitlin leaned toward Kenneth and, with
bound hands outstretched, demanded the food Darach had just
given him. "Far be it for me to make aught about this any easier
for either of ye!"

"Och, now ye've gone and done it, Dar," the younger man
said as he handed the meal back to her. "Ye just can't help but
always make things worse, can ye?"

"Dinna fash yerself," the dark Highlander curtly replied, slicing off another hunk of cheese to add it and a piece of pork to a
fresh slab of bread, before handing that to Kenneth. "She's just angry I've so quickly seen through her little ploy to make good
her escape."

With arched brow, he glanced up at Caitlin. "Aren't ye, lass?"

He was insufferable, he was. But she would sooner die than
admit anything to him, especially that he was right.

"And why would I be telling aught I was thinking to the likes
of ye?" She smiled sweetly at him, then broke off a corner of
her cheese, popped it into her mouth, and chewed it slowly and
thoroughly. "Och, but this is so tasty. I believe my appetite's returned. I might even have a second helping when I'm done with
this. To keep up my strength and all, ye know?"

Kenneth exhaled a long, frustrated breath. "Ye're both a pair,
and no mistake. In the bargain, I'm thinking ye both deserve each
other." He gave a vehement nod. "Aye, that I do!"

Caitlin scowled but decided it best not to say anything more.
Darach quietly returned to his own meal, which he had been
preparing even as they talked. The thoughtful look in his eyes,
however, made her uneasy.

He was planning something. Whatever it was, she doubted it
bode well for her. But then, since the first moment she had laid
eyes on him yesterday in Dalmally's market, had anything gone
well for her?

Still, she had never let anything-or anyone-keep her down
for long. And she certainly wasn't going to permit a crude lout
like Darach MacNaghten to be the first. He wasn't as clever as
he imagined. He would soon discover he had met his match in
her.

"Care for more?" Darach asked just as soon as Caitlin swallowed the last of her bread and began brushing the crumbs from
the skirt of her blue wool dress.

Her head snapped up and her gaze narrowed. "Aye, that I
would. A bit more cheese would be nice."

A smile hovering on his firm, well-molded lips, Darach cut her a far too generous chunk of cheese. Leaning across the fire,
he placed it in her open hands. Caitlin was strongly tempted to
grab him and pull him into the fire but managed to squelch that
most uncharitable of impulses. Instead, she murmured a thankyou and accepted the cheese.

Finally, when all seemed sated, Darach rewrapped the food and
placed it back in the basket. "Looks from what's left we'll have
enough to break our fast on the morrow, and mayhap some even
for a midday meal," he then said. "Hopefully, by afternoon, we'll
find a village from which to purchase additional provisions."

"What do ye think, Dar?" Kenneth asked as he pulled over
his harp bag and began untying the leather fastenings. "Another
two days' travel, what with all this going around in circles to
cover our trail?"

"Aye, if the weather doesn't get any worse and we don't run
into any opposition, we should be at Dundarave by then." The
big Highlander put away the basket, then looked to his friend.
"By we, however, I mean Caitlin and myself. I want ye to make a
beeline for home on the morrow. Uncle Feandan and the others
need to know what's happened and the change in plans. Since
Niall Campbell and his men will be hot on our trail by then, ye'll
need time to prepare the castle."

Caitlin gave a derisive snort. "As if that meager tower house
and walls will hold long against my brother! Indeed, is much of
it still standing these days?"

Fury flared in Darach MacNaghten's eyes. "Enough to give
ye and yers a wee pause, to be sure. And that, sweet and gentle
lass, is all the time we'll need."

She had struck a nerve, Caitlin realized. Best to back off before
she set him into a full-blown frenzy and he killed her right here
and now.

"Er, mayhap I misspoke myself," she said. "I didn't mean to
ridicule yet home."

"Aye, ye did, and did just that!"

Picking up a long twig, he poked angrily at the fire. Sparks
rose in the air and the flames leaped high.

Finally, apparently having mastered himself, Darach looked to
Kenneth. "Have ye a few tunes to ease the tensions of the day?
I feel a need for some music, and Caitlin has yet to hear how
fine ye play."

The bard smiled and pulled his clarsach from its bag. Caitlin's
breath caught in her throat. A lap harp of the finest workmanship, the soundbox decorated with four small holes inscribed
with intricate knotwork within ever-widening circles, was made
of wood that appeared to be some sort of willow. The pillar and
neck looked to be of dark walnut. A variety of mythical beasts
were carved thereon.

"It's beautiful!" she breathed. "What do they signify? The
beasts, I mean?"

"The animals are all religious symbols." Kenneth pointed to the
top of the right side of the pillar. "This is a lion and is associated
with the Resurrection. Tales have it that young lions are born
dead, only coming to life three days after they're born, after being
breathed on by their sire."

Next, he indicated the lower right side. "And this is the unicorn, one of the most common and potent symbols of Christ.
Its strength and white color represent purity, and the belief that
though it was extremely wild and fierce, it could be captured by
a virgin of spotless character. Like our Holy Mither Mary in the
Incarnation of Christ in her body."

The bard next turned the harp to reveal the left side of the
pillar. "This is a griffin," he said, pointing to the top. "It has both
the body and fierce nature of the lion and eagle, and represents
Christ the Conqueror. And the dragon"-he indicated the final
creature at the pillar's bottom-"though usually thought of as
representing the Devil, in this case is placed here to signify the foot of the cross where Evil has been overcome. The plant work
twisting up both sides of the pillar, with its stems sprouting tiny
crosses, is meant to represent Christ, the `true vine.'"

Jewels of various kinds-emeralds, rubies, and sapphiresglinted in the eyes of the fantastical creatures, as well as being
embedded in the knotwork surrounding the soundbox holes.
Caitlin understood now why Darach had claimed that not only
the bard but also his harp needed a protector. It was indeed a
costly, even priceless, instrument.

"Yet clarsach looks verra old," she said. "Was it passed down,
then, from yet father?"

Kenneth nodded. "Aye, from my grandfather through my
father, who never became a bard, from my great-grandfather,
and his father, all the way back for at least two hundred years.
Or, leastwise, that's how the tale goes. It was a gift from some
ancient king, in repayment for loyal service."

He settled the instrument in his lap, nestled it against his left
shoulder, and lightly stroked the strings. A bell-like ripple of
sound rose in the air. Then, he looked to Caitlin.

"Would ye like to hear a few songs?"

Despite the gravity of her situation, despite the fact she was
the prisoner of at least one if not two dangerous men and sat here
this night far from home and family, Caitlin couldn't help but get
caught up in the eager anticipation of hearing some music and
song. It was time better spent, after all, than constantly dwelling
on her misfortune.

"Aye, that would be verra nice," she replied.

He plucked a few chords, and the rich tones carried a haunting sustain that floated out into the night. "Mayhap a lively jig
or two then?"

She nodded. "Aye."

For the next half hour or so, Kenneth played one tune after
another, each one seeming better than the last. Caitlin found herself tapping her foot in time to one particularly spirited song,
then leaning forward for a softer, more lyrical one. From the
corner of her eye, she caught Darach watching her, but she didn't
care. Indeed, as best she could, she tried to block him from her
sight and thought.

Finally, though, as the latest melody died away, the dark Highlander loudly cleared his throat. Two heads turned to him.

"It's past time we retired for the night," he said. "We've a long
ride ahead of us on the morrow."

"Och, just one more, I pray." Pointedly ignoring Darach, Caitlin glanced imploringly at Kenneth. "Please?"

The bard looked to his friend.

"Fine. But only one more," Darach muttered from behind her.
"Play away. It's evident ye've beguiled the lass, as ye manage to do
with them all, once they've had a taste of ye and yet harp."

Kenneth grinned. "And can I help it the lasses far prefer a man
of gentle sensibilities over a brutish lout like ye?"

Darach mumbled something that Caitlin thought might well
be a foul word or two.

"Well, be that as it may," the bard said with a chuckle, "this last
tune is an English one that I recently learned. Indeed, this is the first
time I've ever performed it. The song's a particularly touching one
and speaks to life's vicissitudes. It's called `Fortune, My Foe."'

He strummed a few, soft chords and then began to sing.