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Chapter Three
Nimue could hardly believe that her night trip to the lake had ended up with a kidnapping. She had been to that lake so many times before, always alone, and she had always been as safe as could be. It was only her luck that her already horrible day would end on a low note.
Between marrying an Englishman and being kidnapped by a Laird, she didn’t know which one was worse, even if said Laird had blonde hair and blue eyes that glowed and glimmered in the torch light, and sharp, handsome features that made him look as though he were chiseled out of marble. His physical allure, one that had Nimue’s pulse quickening with every glance, did nothing to soften his brutish character.
Weel, this barbarian willna have me for long. Me faither will find me. And if he doesna, then I’ll escape meself.
All she had to do was wait for her captors to fall asleep or become distracted, and once they did, she wouldn’t hesitate to escape. She would run as fast and as far as her legs would take her. She didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of completing their plan, whatever that plan was.
They’ll ask me faither for gold . . . or perhaps they ken that me faither is sidin’ with the English and they want to change his mind.
Her second thought gave her pause. What if it was true, and they demanded that her father support the Scottish troops? It was the very thing that she wanted, the thing that had caused the rift between them in the first place, and Nimue wasn’t above manipulation to get what she thought was best for her country. Besides, Laird MacIntosh and his men seemed to mean no harm to her. Perhaps she could side with them, she thought, if her father’s support was what they were seeking, and force her father to abandon his alliance with the English.
Nimue couldn’t utter a word while she was on that horse; she could hardly do anything other than hold onto Chrisdean tightly and pray that she wouldn’t fall off, so she stayed silent while they rode toward the Highlands. Her fingers, bent in an unusual angle, gripped onto him like the claws of a hawk, her brow began to gather sweat, and her heart threatened to beat out of her chest. She could feel her knees tremble, even as she squeezed her thighs together to balance herself on the horse, and she could feel the tears well up in her eyes.
But she wouldn’t cry, not in front of those savages, no matter how scared she was of that horse. She wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.
The scenery rushed by her, a blur of dark shadows; and the darkness made it impossible for her to know where they were. There was one thing that she knew for certain, though, and it was that they were very far from her home already.
The thought brought a frown to her face. She loved her home more than any other place in the world; and she couldn’t even imagine how painful it would be to be away from it. What she dreaded even more, though, was the possibility of not finding her way back. If she was already so far away from the castle, how could she possibly walk all the way back through the thick greenery of the woods? She couldn’t possibly follow the path, after all, not when she knew that Chrisdean and his men would undoubtedly try to follow her.
She had to come up with a plan, whether that involved escaping or teaming up with Chrisdean, to convince her father to stop his nonsense.
As they rode through the darkness, Nimue’s mind raced as she tried to find a solution to her problems, but she had found none by the time Chrisdean brought his horse to a halt. Nimue didn’t know what time it was, though she assumed it was closer to dawn than the previous day’s dusk, and she hadn’t noticed just how tired she was until Chrisdean helped her off the horse.
It sure is good to be on solid ground again. I dinna wish to ride another horse, ever again.
“Alright, lads,” Nimue heard Chrisdean say and turned to see him stretch his arms over his head, yawning. It reminded Nimue of the lions she had seen in books when she was a child. “We’ll rest here for the remainder of the night, and we’ll leave at first light. Get as much rest as ye can.”
There was a chorus of agreement from around them, and Nimue watched the men carefully. Perhaps that was the opportunity that she had been waiting for, she thought, as most of the men seemed more than eager to fall asleep for a few hours, and those who would remain awake to guard the camp would certainly not be in their best shape, tired as they must be after their long trip and a sleepless night.
“Ye should get some sleep, too.”
Chrisdean’s voice came from behind her, and Nimue all but jumped out of her skin, startled by his sudden presence. She turned and scowled at him, her lips a thin, firm line.
“Will ye tell me yer plans noo?” Nimue asked. “Because if ye’re plannin’ on takin’ me back in exchange for me faither’s cooperation, then I can tell ye that I’m on yer side.”
Chrisdean frowned at that, seemingly confused, but Nimue didn’t give him time to say anything before she spoke again. “I ken that everyone must have heard of me faither sidin’ with the English, and I dinna want that either. If yer plan is to demand his alliance for my return, then I’ll help ye.”
Chrisdean laughed, a loud, booming laugh that Nimue thought could make the ground tremble. “There will be na need to ask him for anythin’. I’m na takin’ ye back, lass,” he said and, without any further explanation, turned around and joined his men, who had already begun to drink their weight in alcohol.
Instead of demanding another explanation, Nimue stepped away to the edge of their camp, from where she could make a quick escape once everyone was asleep. If Chrisdean had no intention of taking her back, then she had no intention of staying.
“Dinna go too far,” Chrisdean called after her, but she ignored him. She knew that the possibility of an escape would cross his mind, but it also seemed to her as though he was willing to give her some space.
Perhaps he thinks he’ll get in my good graces if he allows me some freedom.
Finding a spot by a big oak tree, Nimue sat down, curling up against the tree trunk. It was only then she noticed that some of her clothes were still wet, and the freezing breeze of the night made her shiver. For a moment, she considered approaching the fire that the men had hastily started to keep warm, curling up next to its flames and giving herself some time to rest, but in the end, she decided against it. She couldn’t miss her chance to escape; other plans be damned. She could hardly trust someone like Chrisdean, she reasoned, who had come to her home and had snatched her right out of it.
Even if she had wanted to rest, though, she knew that it would have been impossible. Once the men had started drinking, they had also started shouting, some singing, others arguing. One argument led to swords being drawn, and Nimue sat up, looking at the camp expectantly.
Let them all kill each other. That’ll make it easy to run.
Before the two men could even get close to each other, though, Chrisdean stepped between them. “Stop it, the two of ye,” she heard him say. “All of ye, stop yer shoutin’. Go to sleep; we have a long day ahead of us.”
Sooner than Nimue would have thought possible after that fight, the camp quieted down, and the only thing that she could hear was the snores of the men and the crackling of the fire. She could feel the exhaustion in her bones, her knees and fingers aching with it and the cold, her eyelids falling shut every few minutes. Despite her fatigue, though, she was determined to stay awake. Once she started running, she knew that nothing else would matter to her other than getting back home.
One by one, the last few men fell asleep. Nimue scanned the camp, her eyes searching for Chrisdean, but he was nowhere to be found.
