Page 58 of A Knight To Call My Own
“Berwyck is no longer my home,” she declared, lifting her chin in confidence that Ian would soon be close at hand. “My husband will find me.”
“If he is still alive, then I am counting on it,” said her captor, “and when he comes for you, I will kill him.”
There was no time for a retort or protest of any kind as he swiftly gagged her and bound her to a tree. She was becoming familiar with a coarse rope that seemed to continually be the choice means of her captors to keep her in one place. She closed her eyes, steadied her breathing, and remembered a time, not too long ago, when she was in this exact same situation, just with another bent on ransoming her for a bit of coinage. She had lost her friend that day, and she regretted not being able to save him.
Giving a silent prayer for Rolf’s eternal soul to be at peace, Lynet practically willed Ian to her side and asked God to keep him safe. Her heart could not stand to lose another person she cared about, especially the one man she had loved her entire life. Once they were reunited, she would press the issue for Ian to declare his feelings about her, no matter that thus far she had been a most troublesome wife. She had waited her entire life for him to speak the words she longed to hear, and her faith in her husband that he would soon find her would not waver.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Ian tightly gripped the leather reinsin his hands all the while attempting to remain level headed. ’Twas nigh unto an impossible task. Worry etched his features, wondering at what Lynet’s fate had now become, and who had abducted her, this time.
With the slightest pressure from Ian’s knee, his well-trained horse turned sharply into the forest and off the road to follow the tracks of the cart that had taken Lynet from the boundaries of their land. Angus and Connor rode by his side in silence as the miles continued to distance them from Urquhart. Whoever had taken his wife, they certainly made no attempt to hide their tracks. ’Twas almost as if the miscreant was giving Ian ample time and ease to locate Lynet, without much effort on his part. At the very least, he had that much going for him.
Judging for himself that the sun was beginning to set, caused Ian to push his steed harder afore the cover of night halted their progress. They rode light to make better time of catching up to the scoundrel who had stolen his wife. With a brief glance at the MacGillivray plaid and the rest of his attire, he barely recognized the knight of old who used to dress in full armor to fight for an English king for many years in his past. He would not need the heavy metal, encasing his body, to see that justice was swiftly served…again.
But English knight or Scottish laird, he was determined to bring Lynet home, and upon her return, if he must needs keep a guard upon her night and day, he would ensure no one would ever dare to steal his wife, again. ’Twas becoming an irritating occurrence, and he cringed when Calum’s words about Ian not knowing the whereabouts of his wife echoed in his head. Certainly, he should be able to keep one tiny woman safe within the walls of her own castle.
Ian pulled back on the reins to slow his mount with Angus and Conner doing the same. He knew of this place, although he had not been here since his youth. Memories of his family spending hours upon hours enjoying the warmth of a summer’s day near the small lake invaded Ian with pleasant thoughts of happier times. For one brief moment, he relished the visions that danced afore his mind. He could see himself and his brother frolicking in the water whilst his sire and mother laughed in joy at their antics. They were peaceful memories of days gone by when he was young enough to believe his father would live forever, and he would never lose faith in his family’s love.
A burst of annoyance almost erupted from his lips as he thought on his brother ruining the clan, but he choked the bitter memories down, not wanting to alert anyone they were near. He shook himself free of the images that quickly faded from his mind. He peered at the landscape with a practiced eye of one who knew what dangers to look for. Ian had no doubt he would find Lynet up ahead, and but a short distance away from where he now stood.
Ian dismounted, and his horse neighed, as if not pleased he must needs stand still. Ian reached out to pat the stallion’s neck. The horse’s skin quivered afore he began to snort air from his nose, toss his head about, and then proceed to rear his front legs up in anticipation. The beast finally gave Ian a nudge, almost as if to tell him to mount up so they could be on their way.
“Easy, boy,” Ian urged with another calming pat. “We must needs handle this matter delicately. We do not want any harm to come to the Lady Lynet, now do we?”
The steed began shaking his head to and fro again, as though answering him. Ian left the horse standing still, knowing the animal would not move ’til called to do so. “Let us away, men,” Ian ordered quietly, and they took off on foot to scout out the area, as quietly as possible.
The silence of the woods was deafening, and it took much skill on their part to remain just as quiet. They came to a bend on the narrow path made from the conveyance that had stolen Lynet away when Ian held up his hand to listen intently to the strange melody coming from up ahead. Obviously, someone did not care if they were heard or not, and yet, the tone had an eerie, sing-song quality that did not give Ian any sense of comfort as to the state of Lynet’s wellbeing.
Inching their way onward, Ian motioned to his two men, and they made their way up a small hill. The advantage was taken, as they now were able to look down into the camp of the very person who had Lynet tied to a tree.
The man was a complete fool to so openly flaunt his wife for any who would care to come upon their camp, if a camp is what one could call it. His practiced eye took in every detail of Lynet as she was uncomfortably tied to a large towering oak. Her captor kept his identity hidden with the hood of his cloak covering his face. He appeared as though he had not a care in the world, as he sat on the back end of the cart, humming his queer little tune, and swinging his feet back and forth in mid-air. He was whittling something in his hands and occasionally threw a stick into the fire that blazed like a beacon so they would be found.
Lynet never looked more beautiful, even though she was in complete disarray. Her hair stood on end, her face streaked with dirt. Ian’s eyes narrowed, seeing how the simple gown she wore was torn in several places, not to mention her feet appeared battered, for she wore no shoes. She could not be happy, considering she was not only tied to a tree, but gagged, as well. Her eyes were closed, so he had no way of knowing if she slept or was merely resting. There was only one way to know for sure.
He whistled the tune of a nightingale’s song just as softly as he had done but recently when Calum held her captive. He had his answer when Lynet’s eyes opened wide as she searched for his whereabouts in the darkening forest. Her breathing accelerated as her chest rose up and down, and Ian could tell she was more than ready for him to come to her rescue. She began to fidget with the ropes, and he whistled again ’til she remained still. If only her eyes did not show her fright.
Ian moved forward whilst Angus and Connor guarded his back. They had almost made it to the edge of the perimeter of the camp when the scoundrel jumped off the cart to land near Lynet. Ian dared not breathe, considering the man now held a knife to his wife’s throat. Tears escaped her eyes, and he prayed she would remain calm.
“That is far enough, I think, MacGillivray,” the man sneered, pulling off his hood so his identity was at last revealed.
Ian stared at the man who had killed Rolf. “I know you,” Ian snarled, “but who are you to Calum of Clan Davidson?”
The man laughed. “That depends. Since you are standing here, and he is not, should I assume he is dead?”
“Aye.”
The man began to laugh. “Then you have done me a favor, and I now have one less obstacle to hurdle in my quest to gain all I desire.”
“You still have not answered my question. Who are you?” Ian asked, taking a step forward, but held his breath as he watched Lynet’s captor prick the tip of the knife into her neck. A small trickle of blood began to run from the wound.
“I told you, that was far enough, or did you doubt my words?” he tugged at Lynet’s hair ’til she gave a muffled scream of outrage. Ian backed off. “As to your question, my name is Lachlan, not that you will know it for long. Since you have given my brother an early demise, you are now looking at the new laird of the Clan Davidson. I may be a bastard son, but the one person who knew such information as a certainty is now dead. Once I get rid of you, I can collect a handsome ransom for this one here and return to the clan as its leader, since I am next in line to inherit.”
“Let her go, and you may yet live to see another day,” Ian reasoned.
Lachlan gave another eerie laugh. “Let her go? You must be insane. She will bring a fair amount of coinage from her sister’s husband so that I may replenish my dwindling coffers.”
“Aye,” Angus interjected, “if our laird or Lord Dristan does not kill ye first.”
