Page 3 of Highland Dove

“I – I want to do it,” she said with a slight nod, her excitement and anxiety making her knees wobble. When she started to fall, he lifted her up in his strong arms, kissing her so passionately that she felt as if she were going to shatter even before he’d entered her.

“Nay, no’ yet,” he said in a seductive growl, putting her back down on her feet.

Mari’s heart dropped to hear this. “Nay?” she asked. “B-but I thought –”

“I dinna want ye to make love to me just because I am leavin’ and ye’re afraid I might never return.”

“But what about givin’ ye somethin’ to remember me by?”

He picked up her hand and kissed the back of it gently. “I respect yer wishes and I had no right puttin’ ye in such a position. I’m sorry I acted that way.”

“B-but I said yes.”

“I ken ye did, but now I’ve changed my mind. I willna take the chance that ye will regret this later.”

Feeling like she was about to cry, and not knowing what just happened, Mari bit the inside of her cheek and remained quiet. The cooing of the doves from the cage filled the air, making her wonder if she and Duncan would truly be mates for life after all. That bad feeling was becoming worse and she couldn’t push it aside. Tears filled her eyes as Duncan let go of her hand and stepped away from her.

“I must go now, Mari,” he told her. “But even though I am gone, I never want ye to forget that I love ye – my little Highland Dove.”

Chapter 1

Three weeks later

With shackles around his wrists and with his feet still chained together, Duncan MacLean pushed the sharpened end of a spoon into the padlock, trying to gain his freedom. The bloody Sassenachs who held him and his brother captive for nearly three weeks now were trying his patience. He was also tired of waiting to be rescued by his clan, and decided to take matters into his own hands.

A dozen of his clansmen were killed in the bloody battle because the English had outnumbered them three to one. Eideard had given them wrong information. Had Duncan known how many there truly were, he would have been prepared. If he’d had more Highlanders at his side, they would have easily been victorious in this battle. It was only because he and his brother were the sons of the chieftain that they’d been taken prisoners instead of killed. But now it was time for them to go home. Since no one from his clan could bother to send the ransom money, he decided he’d just have to escape the wretched place on his own.

His prison was Carlisle Castle on the English border, too far away from his home back in the Highlands. With any luck, today would be the day he’d set himself and his brother free. It would take at least three days to make it back to the Highlands on foot. But if they managed to steal some horses, there was a good chance they could travel the distance within one day.

The sounds of merrymaking came from the guards’ post since the English were well in their cups. Today was Christmas Eve and they were celebrating Yuletide. Duncan gritted his teeth as he worked on the lock, longing to be back in the Highlands celebrating with Mari instead of rotting away in this filthy hellhole.

Duncan had to use this opportunity to his advantage. If not, he and Angus would be killed come morning. He’d overheard the guards talking. They were no longer going to wait for the ransom money. Tomorrow morning, he and his brother were scheduled to die.

“Duncan,” whispered his brother from the cell next to him. “Have ye got it yet? Hurry.”

“Angus, haud yer wheesht, before they hear ye,” scolded Duncan, trying aimlessly to pick the rusty lock. He’d been filing down the spoon a little at a time for the last few days against the stone wall when the guards weren’t looking. Up until now, they’d had no way to break loose. But his luck had changed when he was able to steal the spoon from the food tray without the guard noticing. The English were holding them for ransom but, sadly enough, no money ever came from his clan. He couldn’t understand it. His father wouldn’t leave them here to rot and neither would he turn a blind eye and not want vengeance for the deaths of his clansmen. Something was wrong, he was sure of it. But whatever the reason, he was no longer going to sit around and wait to be rescued. Bid the devil, he no longer cared what anyone did. One way or another, he was leaving here today, even if he died trying.

“This is our only chance,” his brother whispered, as if Duncan really needed to be reminded. “If we dinna succeed, we’re goin’ to lose our lives come mornin’.”

“Blethers, Angus, pipe down,” growled Duncan through clenched teeth. “Yer clishmaclaver is only goin’ to alert them and get us killed tonight instead. Now once again, haud yer wheesht. Because if ye dinna, I swear I’ll leave ye here and go home without ye.”

“Duncan! I’m yer wee brathair,” whined Angus, playing up the fact he was the younger of the two, not that it mattered to Duncan. “Ye wouldna really leave me here to die, would ye?”

“Wee brathair, my arse! Wee in the brain is what ye are,” Duncan mumbled under his breath, jiggling the makeshift key in the lock once more. Angus might be two years younger than Duncan’s age of three and twenty years, but there was nothing small about him. He was built like a castle’s retaining wall and usually scared anyone when they met him face to face in battle. Angus made Duncan look like the wee one when they were together, although Duncan was taller than most men. “I think I have it. Now, keep an eye on the guards at the door while I set myself free.”

With a soft click, the lock popped open. Duncan sighed in relief and quickly freed himself from the shackles on his wrists and feet. Trying to be quiet, he didn’t want their enemy hearing the rattle of the chains. Cautiously, he crept to the door and picked that lock as well. As he slowly pushed the cell door open, the rusty metal let out a loud groan. It was almost as if the cell were calling out to the guards, announcing his attempt to escape. Duncan stopped in his tracks, his body going rigid. His head snapped up and his eyes flashed over to the guards. All the while, his heart drummed loudly in his ears, mimicking the turmoil in his brain.

“What was that?” One of the two guards at the gate lowered his bottle of whisky and peered into the darkened area. Duncan and Angus were the only two prisoners in the dungeon at this time. One lone torch flickered, lighting up the holding area, but threatening to extinguish at any moment. It was near the guards’ post, so the cells were cloaked by the darkness of the underground cavern.

“I don’t know what it was, but mayhap you’d better go find out,” commanded the second guard with a loud belch. Duncan saw him wipe his mouth with his arm.

“Brathair, hurry,” Angus urged Duncan in a throaty whisper. “They’re comin’.”

“Aye, I suppose I’ll go find out,” reluctantly agreed the first guard, shrugging his shoulders and heading toward the cells. He still clutched his bottle of whisky in one beefy fist.

Duncan slinked over and fiddled with the spoon in the lock of the door to his brother’s cell. But to his dismay, the makeshift key jammed and did nothing to release the confinements of his brother’s hell.

“Bid the devil, hurry, Brathair!” Angus ground out, his eyes fastened to the guard post. “They’re comin’ this way!”