The Burden of a Scottish Chieftain (Clans of Mull #2)

Chapter Twelve

Lennox

Lennox made his way toward Craignure, Taskill following him. He had some essentials already packed and attached to his saddlebag.

“Where the hell are you going, Lennox? I thought you would be joining our patrol with us. We’re leaving in a quarter hour.”

“Listen, there’s something I must attend to, Taskill. You can handle the patrol. I’ll be back on the morrow. I’m just following a hunch, but I do not wish to pull any men away from the patrol.”

“You are the chieftain. You should not be going anywhere alone. You know that, especially off the isle.” Taskill crossed his arms, looking serious now, something Lennox rarely saw. “If Mama finds out, she’ll never let you forget it.”

“I would only travel alone off the isle. No one on the mainland knows of me. I’ll be unrecognizable.” He waited, knowing that Taskill would not argue. He never did. It was simply not in his character to do so. “How would anyone know me without my plaid?”

Taskill glanced at his attire, then shrugged and said, “True. All in black with black trews. Looks the same color as your hair, Lennox. No one will recognize you. Tell me on the morrow all about it and Godspeed.”

“Of course. You’ll be first to know.” His brother turned around to head back toward Dounarwyse Castle, and he wondered how two brothers could be so different coming from the same two people. Taskill was fair while Lennox was dark-haired like their sister. He ran his hand through his hair, thinking he should probably trim the long locks soon, but he hated to fuss over something as shallow as his looks. While many lasses had begged for a proposal from him over the years, most had given up at this point.

Finally.

A few had blamed it on his blue eyes, one telling him they were as cold as ice. That comment had hurt because sometimes he feared she was right. It took a great deal for him to become invested in anything. He blamed the man he knew as Egan. Since that horrible time during and after Lennox’s abduction, he’d locked up his heart, and he knew it wouldn’t be unlocked until he freed the world from men like Egan.

Pushing his thoughts down deep, he had to focus on his present task: where exactly to look for the fool.

He was nearly at Craignure when he was approached by Dyna and her husband, Derric.

“MacVey!” Dyna shouted.

“What is it?” He turned around, surprised to see the two alone. “Are you not going on patrol?”

“We are, but I wished to speak with you. Rankin is too upset to discuss anything, and Thane recommended I have a conversation with you about my visions. He says you know the isle best.”

Dyna’s aura was something he wasn’t accustomed to. What would it be like to have a child who was much like you were? And how would it feel to lose that wee person? Tora was the image of her mother, hair nearly white and haunting blue eyes.

“I’ll help in any way I can.”

“Where are you going? You’re a chieftain traveling alone?” Derric asked.

“I have to take care of something. Taskill is handling our assigned patrol. Worry not. I’ll be back on the morrow. I need to see to a situation on the mainland.” Then he waited for Dyna’s question.

“I’ve had some visions and because I don’t know the area, I have no idea where they are. And I’ve had more than one, so it confuses me. I need help sorting through the pictures in my head.”

“Go ahead. Tell me what you’ve seen.” He had his doubts whether Dyna was indeed a seer, but it was worth hearing her out. He respected Dyna and Eli for all they’d accomplished in their lives—Dyna was a chieftain of Clan Grantham with Maitland Menzie, and both were powerful archers.

“One scene is the four huddled on a cot in a strange building and the other one is three of them in a small boat. They wouldn’t be going from Craignure in a boat that size, would they?”

“Nay. It would be too rough for a small boat, though if they have at least six oars and a sail and the sea was mild, they could do it on a good day. Mayhap to Ulva? I’m not sure. It could be on a loch. The cot could be anywhere. I wish I could help you, Dyna.”

“The boat was dark. They dragged it out of some brush.”

The skin on his neck raised, but he didn’t let on. “If I think of anywhere like that, I’ll have my patrol check, and I’ll definitely let you know. It’s a bit too vague.”

Dyna looked devastated, but what could he tell her? That the boat sounded like the one he’d been on fifteen years ago when he’d been stolen away?

“Dyna, fear not. The plan we created will cover the Isle of Mull. If they’re here, we will find them.”

“And if they’re not?”

“Then we’ll create a new plan on the morrow. I’ll be here to assist with that. I’ll be aware of everything I see on the mainland.”

Memories washed over him and nearly made him shiver, but he held the emotion inside. The mention of the small boat in the brush had set his mind churning.

Derric said, “Diamond, we must move along. Godspeed on your journey, wherever you go, MacVey.”

He waved to them and led his horse to the small port, glad to see few people around, because he needed time to think on what Dyna had said. As much as he’d tried to forget everything that happened to him, perhaps it was time to allow the memories to return. More and more memories resurfaced, and the puzzle of all that happened was finally making sense to him. It was time to put the pieces of the puzzle together.

Once he settled on the ship headed toward Oban, toward the fool who stole him away, he allowed the memories in.

This had to stop.

Fifteen years ago

Lennox woke with a pounding ache in his head. He was being dragged across the path in a forest, one he’d never seen before. He had to get away. He kicked and fought, doing his best to be free of two fools, one who held his arms and the other his legs, but they held tight.

“Stop fighting, lad. We are not going to hurt you. You’re going to work, that’s all. You get a pallet to sleep on this eve, then on the morrow, we’ll take you to the new castle far away. They need big, strapping lads to muck their stalls and carry stones to make their curtain wall. You’ll see. It’s not so bad.”

“When my sire finds you, he’ll kill you.”

“I might worry, but your father will never find me. Will he, Egan?”

The other man laughed and said, “We’re making good coin for the big lads, but tell him the next one must be smaller. I cannot carry them up the hill.”

“Where am I? Where are you taking me?”

“Nowhere that matters. The lord wants a new castle and a new wall. So, you’ll be building it.”

Lennox fought for all he was worth. He finally freed one foot and kicked up, catching the man who’d been talking right in his jaw. He let out a screeching bellow, dropped Lennox for a second, but then grabbed him and landed a punch square to his jaw.

Lennox punched him back.

“The blow to your head wasn’t enough for you? Well, I know exactly how to fix you, laddie. Fingal, you know where we’re putting him, do you not?”

“Aye, in the cottage.”

“Nay. This one is going in the cellars.”

He grabbed Lennox’s legs and tied them together, then laughed when he picked him up again. “You’ll not be kicking me anymore, you spoiled brat.”

“In the cellar? That’s not nice, Egan.”

“It’s where he goes.”

The two didn’t say anything, as dark was nearly upon them and the trees were thinning. They entered through a back gate, then carried Lennox over to the rear door of a dilapidated building. Lennox stared at everything, doing his best to memorize his surroundings in case he was able to break free.

If he had the chance, he’d run, but he had to know where to go.

Once inside, they carried him down the stairs into the castle cellars, into a dark room where they tossed him on an old cot.

“See how you like this. You can sleep with the rats. When you wake up, they’ll be nibbling on your toes and your nose.”

The two men left, and the mean one named Egan laughed through the small window in the door. “I can’t wait to see how hungry you are on the morrow. See how many places the rats have nibbled you.”

Lennox said nothing, looking around the chamber for any means to escape, but he found naught useful. The door was locked and solid, and the cot was filthy, but the floor was worse. A dim torch far down the passageway provided the only light through the small window, and an urn sat in the corner, probably one to pish in.

He’d never been so frightened and angry in his life.

He stood at the door and screamed until his voice was raw. He remembered something his father had told him about being captured, that the most important thing was to maintain your strength. If you had your strength, you could wait for the right moment to escape, but the best way was to outmaneuver the bastards.

When Lennox had no voice left, he moved over and sat on the cot, the smell horrible, but it was better than the floor. He didn’t see any rats, so he put his head down and cried, eventually falling asleep.

Something awakened him in the middle of the night. He opened his eyes and peered into the darkness, and when his eyes adjusted, he found himself staring into the eyes of a mouse. He screamed and screamed. In his desperation, he finally came up with his solution.

He would give them what they wanted.

When Egan and Fingal came in to get him in the morning, he didn’t move. He had no voice left, no strength, no will to live. He’d lost all hope. He stared straight ahead, not answering any of their questions, not responding to any of the pinches, punches, or cuts on his body.

They could do whatever they wanted to him. He would not respond, saving his strength for what he would need to do.

Another man came in behind Egan and moved over to where Lennox sat on the cot, leaning against the wall. The man spoke to him, poked him, slapped him, yelled in his face, and finally spit on him, but Lennox didn’t react. Not once did he flinch.

The man spun around and said, “He’s no good. Take him and toss him overboard.”

They carried him back to the coastline, pulled a boat out of the bushes, then set him inside. He still didn’t react. He had no idea where he was, but having lived his whole life on an island, he was a strong swimmer.

They moved across the water, waited until they were near the middle, and dropped him over the side of the boat. He fell in with hardly a splash.

He went under, held his breath, and swam as hard as he could. He pushed himself as far as possible, not coming up for air until he had to. To his surprise, it had started to rain and the two in the boat were busy yelling at each other to row faster. They were rowing away from him.

He closed his eyes and swam harder, keeping his strokes calm until he came up for air again. He looked both ways, satisfied that the boat had nearly gone ashore. They weren’t even looking at him because they didn’t care.

He turned to the opposite bank, glad to see it was visible, but he’d have to swim. So, he paced himself, starting on his back and opening his mouth to drink the fresh water coming from the sky rather than the loch water. He’d been sickened by it once and would never drink from the lochs or oceans again.

He swam and swam, alternating from his back to his belly, pleased he didn’t encounter any creatures along the way. When he was nearly there, he worried that he had weakened enough that he wouldn’t be able to climb up the bank.

But he did. He climbed across the rocks and found a grassy section, falling into it with relief.

He’d made it.

He didn’t recall anything else until he woke up in his chamber at home, his mother sobbing by his bedside.

But he never told her all the details. He’d told her he couldn’t remember anything that happened—not the men, the mice, nor the beating he’d been forced to endure from Egan after the other man had left.