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‘You may never do that to me again, Ramsay. If I have wounded your pride, forgive me, but you should not have spoken to me of such matters, and you should not have put a hand on me. It is not right.’
‘Not right?’ Tears swam in his eyes, shocking and mortifying. His shoulders sagged, and all the life seemed to go out of him. Ramsay was one of the hardest men she knew, but she felt a surge of pity for him.
‘Now listen, Ramsay, ‘tis best we keep this matter between us, for if Cormac finds out, there will be hell to pay.’
‘He’ll not find out, Morna. I’ll not be telling him and sadly, nor will you,’ he said as he pulled back his forearm and lashed out.
Chapter Two
She was swaying back and forth, her head pounded and her cheek throbbed, as she struggled to open her eyes and cling onto consciousness. Morna tried to swallow, but her throat was so dry her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. There were birds calling in the trees and a cold wind was buffeting her. How had she managed to fall in and out of sleep when she was in such dire straits? Fear was exhausting - that was why.
They had been riding for a night and a day, putting miles between them and Beharra. At dawn they had stopped at a ramshackle farmhouse and Ramsay had dragged her inside and pushed her down to the floor. A woman had given her stale bread and sour ale, refusing to meet her eye, while Ramsay talked in a low voice to the farmer. Both strangers were gaunt with hunger, and the coin Ramsay pressed into the man’s hands was for his silence, no doubt.
Cormac would have started to look for her by now, raised the alarm, and men would be out searching. Where could Ramsay possibly take her where her brother would not find them?
Ramsay had barely said a word to her since she had come round, demanding to know where he was taking her. When she had asked him why he had struck her, all he had said was, ‘Such is the violence of love. Be quiet, or I will do it again, ten times harder. I will break every tooth in your head if you try to plead for your release, if you try to bend me to your will as you always have. Your indifference has poisoned my love for you, and I think I hate you now. So be quiet, Morna, if you know what’s good for you.’
Those words were spoken by a terrible stranger, not the man she had known and trusted.
Morna tore her eyes open. They were in dense woodland, dark, the tops of the trees cobwebbed in thick mist which a thin dawn light struggled to penetrate. A track, rutted and full of puddles, stretched off into the distance. A cart stood to one side of it with two horses in harness. All seemed deserted until men on horseback began to emerge from the trees, the chink of their bridles loud in the silence. Dread tightened Morna’s chest.
Ramsay dismounted and pulled her down off the horse. Morna’s legs would barely hold her as she looked at the men’s faces, trying to recognise someone, anyone, who might help her. There were about ten of them and the leader, the one who strode towards them with hard eyes, was young, about her age she guessed.
‘You are Ramsay Seward?’ he asked, narrowing his eyes at her captor before turning his gaze back to her.
‘I am,’ replied Ramsay.
‘I was surprised, no, shocked, to get your message. A Buchanan stalwart turning on his master. I feared a trap was being set.’
‘There is no trap. It is as I said,’ replied Ramsay.
‘No matter. I have men all around these woods. I am always prepared for the deceit of my enemies. If this is a trap, those who have laid it will die this day.’
The man took a step closer and regarded her with distaste. His gaze was penetrating and unwavering. He had pale hair and a bleak face, dominated by hooded, grey-blue eyes and a chiselled jaw. He was clean-shaven, his hair clipped short, his clothes neat and his movements were slow and controlled, as were his words. ‘So, this is she, Cormac’s precious sister?’ he said to Ramsay.
‘Aye, it is. Morna Buchanan belongs to you now, to do with as you please.’
‘I do not,’ said Morna trying to make her voice firm. ‘You will return me to my brother, or he will hunt you down and kill you all.’
It was as if the man did not hear her for he continued talking to Ramsay as though she did not exist.
‘You’ve damaged her a little, I see,’ said the man indicating her bruised cheek.
‘Not as much as she has damaged me, and she’ll heal better than I will,’ said Ramsay.
‘She’s smaller than I expected,’ said the man, eyes roaming over her. ‘Not without some kind of coarse beauty I suppose, if you like that kind of thing, which you obviously do Ramsay, for why else would you betray everything you hold dear? Did you have her already?’
‘No.’
‘So, still a virgin. I admire your abstinence. Did you think to up your price?’
‘No, I only need enough to take myself off to France. Look, I’ve no wish to tarry here so just take her and give me the coin.’
‘Don’t you want to know what I am going to do with her?’ said the blonde man handing him a leather pouch, chinking with his reward for treachery.
‘No,’ replied Ramsay, but Morna’s eyes caught his, and there was anguish in them. This was difficult for him, this selling her to these strangers, else why would he be so eager to be gone. He must care for her still. If she pleaded, perhaps she had a chance.
‘Ramsay, please don’t do this. If I hurt you, it was unconsciously done. For the love you said you bear me, don’t leave me with these men. I am begging you.’
