Page 45 of Savage Kilted Highlander

“Hey, you there! What are ye doin’ with Lady Agnes!” the lead man shouted, geering up his horse and racing towards them. Cries of alarm erupted from the riders as they drew closer and also caught sight of Constance. She ducked behind the tree, but it was too late. As Bane turned to run towards her, the lead man thundered up to Tav, slipping expertly from the saddle before the horse had even stopped. He flung himself after Bane, shouting, “You there, stop at once, ye bastard. Ye’re nae takin’ Lady Agnes, nae while there’s breath in me body!”

Seeing no alternative if he wanted to live, which he most certainly did, Bane ran. Behind him, he could hear Tav shouting, “Hey, leave him be, that’s me braither! Let him, go, I say!” But whatever Tav did to help him was useless, because a moment later, he was tackled to the ground and several men piled on top of him, knocking the breath from his body and completely immobilizing him. He fought as hard as he could, but it was impossible to get free. He gave up, knowing the situation was hopeless. It was turning into the nightmare he had been so careful to avoid.

“Get off him, he’s me braither, I tell ye!” Tav was yelled furiously. Bane, his face pressed into the ground, gasping for breath, imagined his brother trying to pull the men off of him. At the same time, he could hear Constance screaming at them to let him go, that he was innocent. Even in the midst of his suffering, he felt a flash of admiration for her valor and found comfort in her love. She had sworn to intercede with her father on his behalf, and he trusted that she would do her best to help him if she could.

But there was no denying he had kidnapped her. Her father was not going to be happy about that, and Bane knew his fate depended upon his decision, that he could very well end up swinging from the end of a rope by his neck.

He was roughly dragged to his feet, sustaining several stupefying, vicious blows to his face and kicks to his body from his captors, each one bringing with it an anguished scream from Constance. Even through his pain, he hated her seeing him helpless like this.

“I’m sorry, braither, there are too many of them, I could nae hold them off,” Tav cried apologetically as Bane was roughly manhandled past him by the soldiers. Bane shook his head, trying with his eyes to tell Tav he understood. Tav ran alongside his comrades as they dragged Bane along by the arms, shouting, “Leave off hittin’ him!” His pleas fell on deaf ears.

Raising his head slightly, he saw two of the men leading a struggling Constance after them. Clearly believing her wits were addled by her ordeal, one of them was assuring her she was safe. Looking both shocked and furious, she shook them off and ran towards him. “Bane, I will tell my father you are innocent!”

Anger filled him as the men grabbed her by the arms, and again he was impressed by how she fought against them, raging furiously, “I am not Agnes Kerr! I am not her. It is a simple misunderstanding. We only look alike. That man is not abducting me, he is innocent! You are making a mistake!” But none of the men seemed to notice her cut-glass English accent, ignoring her protests and attempts to explain in their haste to save their laird’s precious daughter from, as they imagined, being abducted. The last thing he heard was her shouting, before a mighty blow to his face knocked him clean into unknowing darkness.

Constance was horrified to see Bane beaten to the ground by several man and punched and kicked where he lay. “That man is not abducting me, he is innocent!” she cried, terrified for him. “You are making a mistake!”

“He is innocent!” she shouted, shaking off the men’s attempts to lead her way. But to her intense frustration, none of them would listen to her, however hard she tried to convince them she was not her sister. Then she saw the blow that knocked Bane unconscious, and she screamed at the lead man who had delivered it, “There was no need for that, you brute!”

The soldiers exchanged confused glances but nevertheless continued with their perceived mission to save here. “Tav, bring their horses,” the lead man shouted to Tav over his shoulder as they dragged an insensible Bane between them towards the castle. Tav hurried back and fetched them, leading them from among the trees and hurrying to catch up with the men who were pulling the unconscious Bane along between them.

Meanwhile, one of the men, who kept trying to take hold of a struggling, enraged Constance’s arms and lead her away from the tree line back towards the castle, was telling her solicitously, “Come, me lady, we must get ye back tae the castle, where ye’ll be safe. What a terrible ordeal fer ye tae havetae go through. ’Tis a good thing we got the man before he could kidnap ye.”

“We must report this tae the laird right away,” his comrade said as they hurried her over the stretch of grass between the forest and the gates. “Dinnae worry, me lady, ye’re safe with us. He cannae hurt ye now, and ye can be sure the laird will make certain he’ll get the punishment he deserves.”

Terrified for Bane but realizing there was no convincing them that she was not Agnes or that Bane was not a kidnapper, she fell silent. She allowed them to march her up to the castle and through the gates. Bane was dragged alongside the whole way, his head hanging down and his body limp. They would not let her go to him, but continued marching her along, clearly thinking they had saved her. Inwardly, she prayed they would not inflict further violence upon him until they came before her father, explained the misunderstanding, and secured his freedom.

She found herself inside Castle Ferniehurst at last, but in radically different circumstances to those she had previously imagined. The soldiers hustled her across a vast, cobbled courtyard toward an edifice she assumed was the keep. Armed sentries stood at the double doors, pikes barring the way. But they lowered their weapons, staring with astonishment when they saw their comrades approaching with Lady Agnes and an unconscious stranger between them. The sentries stood aside and opened the doors, so the party could enter. Constance stepped over the threshold of her father’s castle at last, with Bane being dragged inside after her.

It did not seem to occur to any of the men that if she were indeed Agnes, then she would not have needed them to guide her across the large vestibule and along a broad hallway lined with tapestries. In their zeal to please the laird, they were determined to deliver her safely to her father regardless of the fact that she could walk and talk perfectly well and make her own way to see him. They wanted to be there when Bane faced the laird and punishment was handed down for his crime.

They strange party halted halfway along the hallway, outside a set of large carved doors. “Take your hands off of me,” Constance instructed the men who persisted in trying to hold her arms, as though she needed their support. She shook them off and straightened up, pushing her hair back from her face, her heart racing. She was suddenly aware of how disheveled she must appear, just as she was about to be thrust before her father for the first time. It was not how she had pictured it. But such things were secondary. Bane was her first concern, the rest could wait.

The man who seemed to have taken charge of the situation rapped sharply on one of the doors.

“Come,” said a deep, commanding voice from the other side.

The man put his hand on the door handle, and she knocked it away. “I can open the door for myself, thank you,” she told him sharply, summoning her most precise English diction, which had no effect upon him at all. Were they all fools, she wondered, as she pressed her hand down on the handle and pushed the door open.

The men hustled her inside, with the pair hauling Bane between them pushing in behind. She flinched as they dropped him to the floor. She glared at them, swearing silently to herself that she would get him out of this, protect him as he had protected her. The soldiers jostled in front of her, obscuring her initial view of the room. As she waited for them to move aside, with her heart pounding, she glanced up at the coffered ceiling, saw the tops of the paneled walls crowded with paintings, ancient weapons, and other memorabilia. She breathed in the scent of woodsmoke, ink, and leather.

“What is this commotion?” came the same deep, rumbling voice as before. It was not a shout, yet it was penetrating and laced with an impatience that made Constance shake with nerves. The effect on the men was astounding. They all straightened up and stepped away from her side. It was only then that she was able to see in front of her and she laid eyes on her father for the very first time.