Page 100 of Sins of the Highlander

A grim smile spread over Rob’s face as he tied up his biddable gelding. “That’s my Falin, or the black devil has a twin,” he said to Hamish. Having that stallion under him would be worth ten men at his back. “Either way, I need your help. I have an idea.”

***

The sun balanced on the Highland peaks for a heartbeat and then began to sink behind them. Elspeth sat perfectly still while Normina ran the boar-bristled brush through her hair. She’d decided to wear it unbound, falling past her hips.

“Once the hair catches, it goes fast, they say,” Normina had advised, tight lipped.

If Elspeth had to burn, she wanted it fast. And besides, it was the only decision left to her. She’d been given a clean chemise to wear, and all her other things were taken from her. She’d walk on bare feet across the bailey’s cobbles to her death.

She wouldn’t let herself think of Rob. Whenever she did, the desire to live was so great, she felt as if her heart would leap from her chest. It hurt too much. If life was going to be ripped from her by violent means, it would hurt less if she weaned herself from earth first. And the dearest thing on earth, the man she loved.

“I’ve been tending to the needs of your parents, my lady. They send ye a message by me,” Normina said as she laid down the brush. “Lord and Lady Stewart say to tell ye they know ye are guiltless and they will see ye in heaven.”

Tears gathered at the corners of Elspeth’s eyes, but she blinked them back. “I thank ye.”

“Have ye a message for them?”

A heavy knock sounded on her door. The guard had come for her. Elspeth squared her shoulders. “Tell them…tell them I was unafraid.”

God had forgiven her so many things. Surely He’d forgive one more small lie.

***

She never thought so many people could fit into Drummond’s stronghold. On the other side of the ropes, they stood ten deep, chest to back, all jostling for a better view of her in her thin chemise. Their angry shouts were a wall of sound. Her hands were bound before her, but even if they were free, she wouldn’t have been able to stop her ears against their roar.

She tried not to look around, focusing instead on the long tassel dangling from the back of the judge’s surplice. It swung back and forth as he led the way before her, bearing aloft a gilt cross.

Cold lanced the bottoms of her bare feet and shot up her shins. It didn’t matter. She’d wish for cold soon enough.

One foot in front of the other. That was all she had to do. The last task. She must walk across the bailey with her head held high.

The first rotten bit of cabbage that struck came as a surprise. These were the people who would have owed her fealty if her wedding to Lachlan hadn’t been interrupted. Now all they offered her was scorn.

She hoped her parents were being held some place where they couldn’t see what was happening.

Then suddenly the walk was ended. They reached the stake. Lachlan Drummond was there, waiting for her with a death’s head grin on his face. She looked away. Her hands were jerked over her head, and a leather strap was run from her wrists through the iron loop at the top of the pole. Elspeth had the eerie sense of watching herself from outside her own body, a poor puppet whose strings were so tight her arms couldn’t be lowered.

The crowd quieted to listen to the judge drone on about something. Elspeth heard only the pennants overhead, snapping in the breeze, and in a distant meadow, the mournful call of a rain crow. There’d be a fine, soft rain this night, maybe a hint of snow, and the world would wake with hoarfrost painting every tree and bush and blade. The winter-brown grass would crackle under her boots. She closed her eyes. She could hear it crunching beneath her tread. Then those sounds faded, and all she heard was the rush of her own blood, pounding in her ears.

Torches were lit as the light faded. Several guards held them nearby, waiting for something. Someone lifted a little boy up and propped him on their shoulders. He was a beautiful child, with a mop of poorly cut hair and the brown eyes of a roe deer.

Elspeth smiled at him. She and Rob might have had a dozen just like him.

Oh, Rob. Oh, God! I want to live.

A tear slid down her cheek as the guards lit the branches at her feet and stepped back lest they be engulfed once the flames took hold. Smoke curled around her.

Then Elspeth was visited by her Gift.

A loud boom followed by a puff of smoke drew every eye to the battlements near the gate. Hamish stood there, holding a hand cannon. His first volley struck the slate roof of the Great Hall. The crowd scattered as bits of the slate slid off, peppering them with shards.

A wild battle cry echoed throughout the bailey. “Mad Rob” MacLaren was riding down the center aisle of the kirk astride that black devil horse of his. Its hooves threw sparks off the cobbles.

Fire licked at her feet, and she cried out in agony.

No, she wasn’t having a vision. Rob really was bearing down on her, laying about with his claymore. The stunned crowd gave way, scrambling to stay out of reach of his blade. He reined Falin to a stop before her.

The hand cannon boomed again.