Fraser 01 - Highland Legacy (20 page)

To her surprise, eight of Borden’s men mounted their horses and rode out of camp, leaving six men behind. From what she knew of Connor’s Highland pride and battle skills, the reduced number from fourteen to six against one would be an open invitation for him to make his move. Did her captor know this as well?

Borden strode across the field in her direction. He stopped only a few inches away. An evil grin crossed his lips. “I’ll take it from here, George. Williams will tell you what you are to do.”

“Yes, sir.” George snapped to attention, then trotted off to find the lieutenant. After a brief conversation with Williams, he disappeared into the woods.

“As you might have guessed, your lover has been following us for some time and has played into my hand nicely. Now that we have stopped, I have no doubt he’ll make an attempt to save you.”

Borden’s hot breath caressed her cheek, sending a shiver of repulsion down her spine.

“Once I have dealt with him, we will continue our journey to England. If you are a good girl, I will reward you in my tent this evening.” He dragged his fingers across her lips, down her cheek, and along her neck. His hand came to rest on the swell of her breast. Leaning in closer, he whispered in her ear. “I promise that once I’ve filled you, all thought of that pathetic Highlander will be gone from your mind forever. Well, at least until I see you executed.”

His smugness fueled her anger. “Never!” Cailin raised her chin in defiance. “I would rather die than have you touch me.” A quick backhanded slap silenced her.

“I will bed you. It is just a matter of when and where. Maybe I will let your lover live long enough to watch.”

“How do you know that he will try to rescue me?”

Borden clucked his tongue and shook his head. “He’ll come.” He pulled his sword from its sheath and waved it in the air. “Do you think he’ll stand by and watch while I cut the babe from your womb?” He cocked his head to one side, ran his fingers over the blade, and smiled. “I think not.”

“You are a vile bastard.” Cailin struggled against the ropes binding her to the tree, but to no avail. “I hope that you rot in Hell for your evil deeds.”

“I’m already destined for Hell, my lady.”

Cailin closed her eyes and prayed for strength. If Connor tried to rescue her, he’d be cut down before he got a few yards. If he didn’t make a move, Borden would use her as bait and threaten to kill her and his unborn child. He was vastly outnumbered and didn’t stand a chance. If he perished trying to save her, she didn’t want to live. She was already slated for execution on the gallows. It made no sense for Connor to forfeit his life as well.

Please leave, and dinna make the attempt to save me. I can face my fate and go to my death willingly, but only if I know you live.

Connor watched the English garrison ride down the road and out of sight. Why Borden would send half of his men out on patrol, leaving only a handful to guard Cailin, boggled his mind. This had to be a trap. However, if he was going to make a move, he had to do it now.

Convinced this might be his only fighting chance of freeing Cailin, he crept closer to the clearing and surveyed the camp. Two men guarded the horses, while several others sat around the fire. A lieutenant stood a few feet away from them talking to a man dressed in a plaid he knew all too well. He cursed at the sight of Blake MacDougall. “The traitorous bastard,” he growled beneath his breath.

Borden stood on the opposite end of the field, close to Cailin. Too close. Had he harmed her in any way? Had he bedded her? The thought of him touching her made his blood boil. When the sword pressed against Cailin’s belly caught his eye, Connor drew on every once of self-control he could muster, tamping down the urge to rush into the camp, and run Borden through. But with her bound to a tree and at the blackguard’s mercy, he had to plan his strategy carefully.

“I know you’re out there!” Borden shouted. “I grow tired of this little game of cat and mouse. I’m sure the lady would like me to untie her from this tree. It would be a shame to kill her where she stands.”

Connor’s hand closed over the hilt of his own sword. Anger rivaled fear for her safety, and his heart pounded against his ribs.

“Show yourself now, and I may even consider freeing the wench and letting her bastard live. The choice is yours. Face me like a man and the two of us will have at it. A fight to the death. Winner gets the chit.” Borden waved his sword in the air, and then placed the blade against her belly. “Make me wait any longer, and the babe is the first to die.”

Connor stepped into the clearing with his weapon drawn. “I accept your challenge, but first, let her go.” He refrained from looking at Cailin, knowing if he did, he’d lose his focus, along with revealing his weakness. Instead, he glanced beyond Borden and into the woods. He cursed when he spied three archers strategically perched in the trees, their weapons aimed at his chest. Before he could speak, an arrow whizzed by him. He managed to dodge a second, but the third caught him squarely in the left shoulder. He dropped like a stone to his knees.

“No!” Cailin shouted.

He turned his head to hide the grimace of pain and grasped for the arrow. With teeth clenched, he yanked the shaft free, and then covered the wound with his hand. Blood oozed between his fingers, soaking the front of his tunic. Seconds later, English soldiers surrounded him, their swords drawn.

“Watch her. Run her through if she so much as breathes the wrong way,” Borden told George, before focusing his attention on Connor.

“You didn’t think I’d let you stroll in here and take the girl, did you? I’ve waited three years to have her, and won’t be put off this time.” Borden laughed and strutted across the clearing to where Connor knelt in the dirt.

“I honored my end of the bargain. Let Cailin go,” Connor challenged.

Grabbing a fist full of his hair, Borden snapped Connor’s head back. “I have chased that little witch halfway across Scotland. She murdered my brother, and the king will reward me handsomely when I bring her to back to England to stand trial.”

“I killed your brother, not Cailin. He attacked her and tried to rape her. I would repeat the act in a heartbeat if given the chance. That pondscum deserved to die.”

“How chivalrous,” Borden mocked. “Too bad a witness swears the lady did the killing. She will hang for the deed.”

“He lies to cover his own guilt. Your so-called witness was waiting his turn to tup her when I intervened. Cailin escaped in the scuffle and was nowhere near the riverbank when your brother died. I killed him in self-defense, but I’m sure that holds no credence with the king. If there is any honor in your lecherous soul, punish me for his death and let her go.”

Borden stalked with purpose toward Cailin. He moved behind the tree, cut the ropes that bound her, and then dragged her into his embrace. Despite her attempt to fight him off, he captured her lips in a brutal kiss, then spun her around to face Connor. He held her back against his chest, his hand resting over her belly, his blade at her throat. “Nothing you say will change my mind. She will stand trial, and she will be hanged.”

Despite his weakness from lost blood and the pain radiating across his chest, Connor climbed to his feet. “All those present stand as witness to my confession! If you allow her to be tried for a crime she dinna commit, you are condemning an innocent woman, and therefore guilty of her murder in the eyes of the Almighty.”

“Kill him, Morrison. But before you do, I want him to know that his woman will warm my bed tonight and every night until I see her hanged. Your bastard will not live to take a breath.”

“A Mhor-fhaiche
!”
Connor shouted the Fraser war cry. “All my hope is in God!”
The Fraser clan motto quickly followed as he lunged forward. Two soldiers tackled him before he could advance and two more dragged him to his knees. But it took all four men to hold him still.

“Kill him now!” Borden demanded.

Morrison nodded, positioned himself in front of Connor and raised his foil, but Lieutenant Williams grabbed his arm.

“I’ll do it.” Williams drew his sword and without hesitation, drove it into Connor.

Excruciating pain shot through his body, and he couldn’t breathe. He turned to look at Cailin, wanted her to know how much he loved her and had, from the day they met, but couldn’t speak. He didn’t have to. Their eyes locked as if they were the last two people in Scotland. Something in the way she looked at him gave him solace, letting him know she understood what he wished he could say. Judging by the scowl on Borden’s face, he saw it, too, and dragged her away.

“Connor!”

He heard her call out his name before everything around him faded to black.

Cailin pressed her forehead against the door, the fingers of one hand splayed across the cold oaken surface, the other resting over her swollen belly. After the grueling ride from Scotland to England, she was amazed that the babe survived. Then again, he was from strong, stubborn stock, and he’d kicked relentlessly, day and night, to remind her of that fact. “If only I could see you safely born and raise you to know of your father’s bravery.”

When Connor stood before Borden, and had offered his life for hers, she saw devotion in his eyes. He didn’t need to speak the words she longed to hear. If able, she would have run to him, thanked him for the gift of his child, and begged him to wait for her at Heaven’s gate. Her heart sank like a stone in a lock, and she fought the urge to scream in anguish.

She pounded her fist on the door. “Please, you cannot mean to keep me locked up in this dreadful place forever.” When the latch lifted and the heavy door opened, she stepped back out of the way. Had someone heard her plea?

“You’ll stay where you are until his lordship decides otherwise.” A guard she had never seen before strode across the room. He carried a trencher and a mug of ale. After placing it on a small wooden table in the corner of the room, he turned to face her.

“How long do they mean to keep me locked up?”

“Don’t be fretting your pretty head, you’ll be out of here soon enough. I have it on good authority that your trial is set to take place on the morrow. King Edward sent word that he is tied up with other matters and instructed Lord Borden to go ahead without him. If things go the way his lordship predicts, this place will seem like a palace compared to the dungeons.”

She drew the tattered scrap of plaid about her shoulders, glanced around the small, musty, dark room, and shivered. This was a far cry from a palace. Except for the pallet of moldy straw on the floor and a small table, the room she’d occupied was empty. A single arrow loop provided the sole source of light, her only link to the outside world. A brassier sat in one corner of the room, but there was neither wood nor peat to take away the dampness and chill.

When she’d first arrived, she found her surroundings of little interest. Immersed in her grief and mourning the loss of her beloved Connor, she didn’t care if she lived or died. But as the days passed and the fog of despair slowly lifted, she’d become more aware of her predicament, and fear for her unborn child took precedence.

Once a day, a guard entered the room with a tray of food and something to drink. Otherwise, she’d spoken to no one. A blessing in disguise if one really thought about it. As long as Borden kept his distance, he’d not make good on his threat to bed her. The thought of his hands upon her, of him taking intimate liberties, made her stomach roil. Pain and sorrow gripped her heart. The only man’s bed she wanted to grace was Connor’s, and he was lost to her forever.

“Best you eat. After the trial, there’s no telling when, or if, they’ll feed you again.” Without saying another word, the guard left the room as hastily as he’d entered.

She pushed the food around the trencher and curled up her nose in disgust. The wooden platter contained the same fare every day—cold porridge, a slice of dry bannock, and a small wedge of cheese. She opted for a sip of ale instead.

The babe rolled and kicked—a babe that would not live to carry on his father’s legacy.
Connor.
Memories of the man she loved and their brief time together flooded her mind. At night, his face haunted her dreams. During the day, she relived the events leading up to his death more times than she could bear to count. If the sentry’s predictions held true, she and the babe would soon join him in Heaven.

The sound of hammering broke her train of thought. When she stood on her tiptoes and peered out the small arrow loop, a chill ran down her spine. The men busied themselves by building a gallows meant for her.

At sunrise the next day, two guards escorted her to the great hall of Carlisle Castle, where the four-man tribunal waited. She bit down on her lower lip to keep it from trembling. With the sudden weakness in her legs, would they be able to hold her upright? Her pulse raced, her head spun, and dizziness threatened to claim her, but she somehow managed to stand her ground. She was frightened and alone, yet she was determined to face the men who judged her with dignity and pride.

“Lady Cailin Macmillan, you stand accused of murder and treason against the crown. How do you plead?” William Ormsby, King Edward’s Chief Justicair, leaned back in his chair and tapped his finger on his jaw, awaiting her answer.

“This trial is a mockery of justice. I’m innocent of the charges, and demand you release me at once.” Her hands protectively covered her belly, and she looked at each member of the tribunal in turn.

The hall erupted with shouts and comments regarding her deplorable conduct. It was rare, and frowned upon, for a woman to speak her mind in public. For Cailin to make demands of the King’s appointed men was unheard of.

Borden waited for the din of disapproval to fade before facing the tribunal. “This impudent woman lies to save her own life, and that of the bastard she carries. There was a witness to the crime. Thomas will provide the testimony necessary to prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that the lady is guilty as charged.”

When a knight stepped forward, Cailin immediately recognized him as the man, who along with Borden’s brother, had tried to rape her. It would be her word against his. “My lords, I am with child, and appeal to your sense of decency—”

“The babe is the bastard of Scottish rabble and conceived in sin.” Borden cut in. “Her betrothal was not sanctioned by the crown and is therefore invalid. She is no better than a common tramp. Surely you would not take the word of this gutter-swill over that of a brave knight in King Edward’s army?”

“If I am gutter-swill, sir, why did you wish to soil yourself, and your reputation, by taking me to your bed? I had barely seen fifteen summers the first time you tried to force yourself upon me. The second time you initiated such desire, I was heavy with my husband’s child. I am not a whore, but a woman targeted by a man who must bed bairns to satisfy his needs. As for your brother, he was a lecherous man who tried to violate me against my will, but I dinna kill him,” she declared in direct challenge to Borden’s claims. “As for the legitimacy of my betrothal, I am properly handfasted according to Scottish law. The betrothal sanctioned by Robert the Bruce, King of Scotland.”

A collective gasp, along with murmurs, rumbled throughout the room in response to her declaration.

Ormsby slammed his fist on the dais. “Silence, or I will clear the hall. You, m’lady, will not speak again unless you are asked to, and only if you show the utmost respect for the tribunal.”

A self-aggrandizing grin crossed Borden’s face as he continued. “The crown does not recognize Robert the Bruce’s claim to the Scottish throne. Not only does she pledge fealty to an outlaw and an enemy of England, but has committed a most heinous crime. She bewitched my brother in order to seduce him, and then when she tired of him, she murdered him in cold blood.” He turned his head and addressed Thomas. “Do I not speak the truth?”

Thomas nodded. “That’s exactly what happened. Poor Harold did not have a chance. Begged for his life he did.”

“You lie. I’m innocent,” Cailin protested.

“Silence! I’ll not warn you again,” Ormsby chided, and then frowned at Borden. “Your witness will have his chance to speak when he’s called upon by the tribunal to do so, and not before. Do I make myself clear?”

“My apologies, my lord.” Borden bowed before Ormsby. “If she was innocent, then tell me why she ran away? Have her explain why I had to chase her across Scotland, then drag her back to England to stand trial. She is a witch, my lords, and a threat to mankind. She must be punished.”

“Witchcraft you say.” Ormsby stroked his bearded chin and took a moment to consider the charges. “Are you a witch?” he asked bluntly.

“Nay, I am not, my lord. These accusations are a ploy to discredit me and to justify the terrible way I’ve been treated.”

“The way you have been treated is not the issue. According to English law, Lord Borden is well within his rights to bed you if he wishes. Your refusal alone warrants an execution. However, this tribunal was called to determine if you committed murder.” Ormsby looked at Borden. “Have you proof of witchcraft, something to substantiate your claim?”

Borden nodded. “I ask that Thomas be permitted to tell the tribunal what happened.”

Ormsby motioned with a sweep of his arm for Thomas to step forward. “Tell us what you saw.”

“Harry and me were just sitting by the stream, minding our own business, when all of a sudden, out of the water walks a siren. Her sheer gown was wet and clung to her like skin, her hair of fire flying wild about her shoulders. One look from those emerald eyes and Harry was bewitched. She taunted, teased, and he accepted what she had to offer. He couldn’t help himself, being under her spell, and all.” Thomas hesitated and dragged his hand across his brow, catching the drops of perspiration forming there.

“Go on,” Borden ordered.

“Suddenly, she pushed him away, and accused him of propositioning her against her will. She threatened to summon the fires of Hell and cursed him to a life of pain. Harry begged her pardon and backed off, but she did not accept his apology. Instead, she mumbled an incantation. The wind began to blow with a fury and bolts of lightning shot across the sky. She raised her hand in the air and a dagger materialized. Before he could react, she snatched the blade and plunged it into his belly, gutting him like a fish. Poor Harry didn’t know what happened. He lay on the ground, moaning and writhing in pain while she stood over him, laughing.”

Gasps of shock and the drone of voices filled the courtroom for the third time. “Witch! Burn the witch!” a man shouted from the crowd.

“She’s guilty of witchcraft and must be punished,” a woman chimed in.

“Silence,” Ormsby ordered, then turned his attention to Thomas. “What were you doing when this slip of a girl attacked your friend? By the look of her, a strong wind would topple her over.”

“W—why, she had me under her spell, too, my lord,” he answered nervously. “I was paralyzed and couldn’t move a muscle. The next thing I knew, I was tied to a tree with a knot on the back of my head the size of a melon. Lord Borden can attest to that. He saw the lump.”