Chapter 22
"Sandra, where are ya?"
It was Mangus, or at least Mangus’s body. Sandra could not tell by the voice if Iain was still in him. She pulled in deeper to the hollowed-out old stump she hid in that had been split open by lightning years ago. The smell of burnt wood was still pungent inside the tree's battered trunk, and Sandra was sure she would carry away the black stains of its soot all over her when she escaped, if she escaped.
"Com’ on out, Sandra. It is me, Mangus."
He was closer this time. What should she do? She really had no choice. Either she waited until they gave up and then tried to find her way home in the middle of a snowstorm at nightfall, or she took her chances that Mangus was himself again, and he would easily be able to guide her to her home even in the dark.
"I am here," she said just loudly enough to rise above the howl of the wind that rushed through the trees over their heads.
"Where? I cannot see ya," he said as he shielded his eyes from the blowing snow and squinted into the darkness of the forest she was nestled in.
"Here," she said. With a wave of her hand she caught his eye and motioned for him to come to her hiding place. It was scarcely big enough for two, but luckily for them Mangus was a small man. She pulled him in with a jerk of his arm when he got near enough to the blackened trunk.
"We cannot stay here," he said. There were no more traces of Iain's sarcasm or rolling good humor. Sandra assumed she was again dealing with her old Mangus, old reliable Mangus.
"He will not find us here and he will give up before long, then you can bring me back to my father so I can warn them about what Lex has done." She had to control herself in their confined space when the urge to pound her fist into something came to her.
"I cannot do that either, lassie."
"What do you mean you cannot do this? Did you not hear what I told you he did? He did not deny it right in front of us when I asked. You saw it, Mangus. How could you not help me now?" She had him by the collar of his tunic and pushed him hard against the crumbling charcoal wall of their hideout.
He trembled in her hold and squirmed to distance himself, another sure sign that Iain was no longer in him. "He is my chieftain now, Sandra. I have ta obey."
What a time for him to get a spine, Sandra thought. "Listen to me, Mangus--"
The sound of dry twigs snapping under the pressure of a heavy step stopped her mid-assault. He was coming. She slapped her hand over Mangus's mouth but it was no use. Even though he was a weak man, he was stronger than her and evidently he had finally decided to take a stand on something.
"We are over here, Lex. I found her," he yelled out over her flailing hands that grabbed at his face to silence his mouth.
"You rotten louse! You are all traitors," she screeched out at Mangus as he attempted in vain to pull her from the tree trunk. "No wonder my kin has never joined to yours before. They were wiser than me."
"Let her go," Lex said when he saw Mangus with his foot leveraged against the side of the stump and both his hands pulling on Sandra's one arm.
"She will not be coming out willingly," Mangus said, still retaining his bruising grip on her like a bird torturing a helpless worm.
"She will come out," Lex said. The surety in his voice sent a shiver of terror from Sandra's just-released fingers all the way to her freezing toes. "Iain, I think we could use your help again. I do not want a bruise on her body."
"Iain, do not!" she yelled out the top of her hollow sanctuary into the raging storm. "I helped you when you asked. I gave of myself to help you and Derrdra." Tears fell from her eyes and were instantly robbed of their heat by the snow falling on her face. It was hopeless if Iain sided with him as well. Flesh and blood men she could fight to her own death, but Iain would take even that honor away from her.
"I am sorry, lassie," she heard Iain's voice next to her, shielded from the storm. "I believe he means to make things right, and that can only help us all."
"He sold my family for money and handed over our sword as if it were nothing more than a plow blade." She sank to the ground crying. She could hear her fate already in the decisive tone of Iain's words. They were doomed. Lex had even managed to charm a ghost into following him.
"You will thank me for this someday, lassie," was the last thing she heard on the outside of her body. The force of his entrance pinned her back against the hard ridges of the burnt trunk. She lost all control of her limbs. Her head flopped forward for an instant and then snapped back into place with a lively smile stretching the skin of her cold face.
"It is a bloody battlefield in here," she heard her own voice say.
"Just bring her out so we can make it back to the manor," Lex said. She felt Lex's hand gently wrap around one of her arms as he guided her out of the tree. She could see him, look into his eyes, even feel his warm touch, but she could not bring her arm up to slap his face.
"She has deep feelings for ya, Lexxie boy," Sandra heard her voice speak out against her will again. "I think I feel the stirrin's of love inside this wee heart."
Lex bent down and pressed a tender kiss on her cold lips. He was warm, he looked so sincere, she wanted to give in. No! He sold my father for coins, she reminded herself.
"Ah," Iain said for her. "We almost had her that time, Lex. But maybe ya better be waiting on any more kissin' until I am clear of her. I am feelin' all confused and I do not like it a bit."
"Does she like it?" Lex asked, still holding her face in his hands and staring down into her eyes.
"Aye, she loves ya all right, but she does not trust ya any longer."
Damn you! Sandra thought to Iain inside her head. He did not need to know all that.
"He needs to know the woman he is going to spend his life with loves him," Iain responded so Lex could hear.
I will die fighting him before I share one more night with him. Tell him that.
"She wants me to tell you she shares your wish for a happy life together, if you too could profess your love to her."
I would kill you if you were not already dead, Iain MacLachlan.
This time she got an odd feeling as a response back from him inside herself. Ya want to know, do ya not, lassie?
Aye, but not like this.
Lex said nothing. He turned from her and gathered up his horse’s reins from the ground. He could not even look at her. Once he got himself situated in the saddle, he put his hand out to her.
Should I ask again, lassie? Iain said to her silently.
He has already given his answer, and it is no different than I thought it would be coming from a traitor.
She felt Lex’s strong hand grasp hers. She felt the warmth of his arms surround her as she was nestled in protectively under his cloak, but that was all on the outside. She was still in control of what her heart felt, and it was as cold as the tip of her nose that she could no longer feel.
I will find a way to warn my father, Iain, and when my clan learns of my treatment they will slaughter you traitors like they should have years ago. The MacLachlan name will die out because the MacLachlan blood will be frozen into the ground. Her thoughts were angry and hurtful, things she never thought she would feel for her neighbor clan, but now she knew why they had been feuding for so many years. The MacLachlans could not be trusted.
A fine threat that is, lassie, but I have already been murdered by a MacEwen. Do ya think murdering more will make things right?
Sandra knew the answer but she did not want to think it. She was too angry to admit it was as wrong as what Lex had done.
You know what is right, Sandra, now ya have to find the courage and strength I know is in here somewhere to forgive and go on.
Never!
***
Sandra's eyes flew open with a start. There was heat in the air around her and candlelight illuminating the darkness. The familiar rafters overhead told her exactly where she was. She had stared dreamily at them many nights after Lex had fallen asleep holding her, wishing upon each one for a long winter, one long enough for her to change Lex's mind about leaving. All she wanted now was for the snow to stop so she could make her way back home once she escaped him.
"Look, she is awake," she heard Derrdra say nearby.
"Derrdra, help me get out of here," Sandra beseeched her.
"We best let Lex know she is up." It was too late. Iain was there as well.
"What do you mean let Lex know? I thought only I could hear you two, or was that as much of a lie as needing me to sleep with Lex to free yourselves?"
"We have never lied to you, Sandra," Derrdra said with a light touch to her shoulder. Sandra jerked in the opposite direction.
"How could I believe anything you say now?" she said, shaking her head.
Just then the door swung open. Lex stood there with an anxious look on his face. "Are you all right? I heard you talking."
"I suppose traitors who could figure out a way around dying could figure out a way around talking as well," Sandra said into the room for the two sinister traitors to hear.
"Just hear him out, Sandra," Derrdra said. "He wants to make things right again and it would benefit everyone if you two could patch things up."
"Speak your lies then leave," she said to Lex, boldly staring into his eyes to let him know she would not be fooled by his deceit a second time.
"We will get no help from this wild cat," she heard Iain say.
Lex came into the room and leaned back on the door to close it. He did not come any closer. He just slid to the floor where he stood by the door. He looked worn out, like a man who had just battled a siege on his castle and was now down to this last door as a barrier to keep the enemy at bay. She had never seen him like this, without fire and anger, without strength. Even in his surrender to her at the hunting shed he had pain and emotions. Now he had nothing.
"I have no more lies to keep from you, Sandra."
"Then you can let me go."
"No. You have to stay here until you believe me. Too much is at stake if you tell your father only what you know right now."
She cocked her head to the side. "Did I hear correctly? I am a prisoner here until I believe your lies and can pass them along to my father to make your job easier?" Her sarcasm dripped with all the distrust she already felt for him.
Lex dropped his head to his knees and rested it there in silence for a moment. "Things have changed since I first came here. I knew nothing of you or your clan, other than that your father killed my brother. For twenty years that has been the only thing driving me on when my life should have ended numerous times."
"My father is no murderer." Sandra's spine became stiff with pride as she defended her father's honor.
"I know that now. He is an honest man and a great chief. I only wish I could be half the man he is."
This was odd, especially coming from Lex. Her heart felt his pain. But he is a master at deceiving, she reminded herself. "You will never be even that, or a chieftain. You have not the honor."
His head snapped up and met her defiant eyes. Her words had apparently twisted a truthful cord in his lying body. "My honor would not be in question if my brother were alive. I never would have left my home in the Highlands, my mother would not be dead..." he stood up and kicked back at the middle of the door with the flat of his boot, causing it to shudder with his pent-up anger, "and I would not have a bag of gold as payment for your father's head."
"So you admit it," she said, coming at him fast. "You admit you sold my father to your damn English king for coins. How could anyone with a heart trade a life for useless metal?" she screamed as she reached him and pounded aimlessly into his chest with her fists.
He let her pound and hit and slap until her own tears stopped her from seeing her target. "Aye, I did all that, but I did it before I knew the truth."
"What do you know about truth? You shame the word by even speaking it." She turned from him and made her way with small shuffling steps to the hearth in a daze of her spent anger. All that remained was the pain of his betrayal. She just wanted to go home, anywhere away from him, but he was not finished torturing her yet.
"Iain showed me the truth of my brother's death, and even before that I saw it in your father's eyes when I spoke to him. He could no more have killed his own son than I could harm you."
With her back still to him, she held in the sniffle that was halfway up her nose and waited for more, waited for the words she had longed to hear from him for so many nights.
Only silence. It piled up in the room between them like the stone wall that had separated their lands for so many years. He could not say it.
She inhaled her sniffle and her battered pride. "No, you will not harm me, but you will keep me prisoner here so that I cannot warn my father of your plans."
"If you told him what you believe right now he would send every able man in your clan through this snow to kill me and possibly the rest of the MacLachlans."
"Aye, he would," she said with spite.
"All because you saw me give Worthington a sword?" Frustration furrowed his brow as if he could not comprehend the logic of her thoughts.
"It is more than just a sword. It is my family, it is my clan you gave him. Do you not remember anything of Highland pride?" She wanted to rush over and pound on him again to make him hear her. It seemed no matter how she said it or how many times, he saw nothing wrong in what he had done. He acted as if she were the danger to her father, not him.
"I remember," he said. His lip twitched at her slight to his honor. "But would you give your life for that sword?"
"It is not my life we are discussing."
"Yes it is," he said with deadly seriousness.
"What?"
"I explained my reasons for not bringing your father in to Worthington, and when he would not accept my change of heart, I explained your father's condition to him. That he understood. The king needs a healthy chief in his tower to make an example to the other rebellious Highlanders. That is why he wants your father's heir."
"But that is me," she said, holding her hand to her chest in disbelief. Things had been frightening enough knowing Lex wanted to get to her father in his castle, but what was to stop his plan now? He had her completely under his control already.
"And that is why I gave him the sword...as a means of buying myself enough time to return to England and settle the matter with the king personally. He will listen to me if I offer my services to retrieve him another treasonous criminal."
"You would do this to another clan as well?"
"I did not say a Scottish criminal." He glared at her as if she had accused him of something so farfetched when he had already proven to her otherwise. "Why would I do that to my countrymen if...I plan to stay." He said the last words with reluctance and seemed to be watching her for a reaction.
"Why would you want to stay here? I thought you have so much more waiting for you back in England, manors, women,...coins." Her lips slurred her last word out in disgust.
"It was my plan since..." He turned away from her and leaned his head against the door as if he could not face her and say what he had to say, "...I thought things had changed between us. I thought..." With a slowness that terrified her because of what he was saying, what it could mean to her heart, he turned again and faced her. "I thought you might ask me to stay one more time."
She stared at him, unable to respond with a quick jab or a slicing retort. She wanted to, but her heart would not let her. He appeared so honest, so heartfelt. He looked like a lost soul searching for a resting place, knocking at her door for shelter. How could she turn him away? "I thought so too," she finally said, not committing, but not denying him either.
She watched him, unsure of what was going to happen next or even what she expected to happen. His hand slid between his tunic and his quilted vest as he took slow, heart-pounding steps toward her at the hearth. The fire flicked a soft light over his face and she saw deep emotion and uncertainty in his eyes. "Will you ask me again?" he said as he went down on one knee before her. He withdrew his hand from his vest and on the tip of his finger was a tiny blue flower, still coated with white specks of crumbled soap.
Her throat constricted with a deep-felt ache that was coming from her heart. Her chest hurt, her eyes hurt, she wanted so much for this to be real. Her trembling hand came up to stroke his firelit face...and she remembered. She remembered the night they had stood here in front of this very hearth and she had asked him to wield her family's sword as their chief. She remembered how he had made love to her instead of giving her an answer. Now there was no sword to offer, hence no offer to be made. She recoiled her fingers into a tight fist before they touched his skin. "I no longer want you." She was not sure if her words hurt him more or herself.
He rose without looking at her again and strode to the door at a fast pace. Her breath caught on a sob she was holding in when he paused with his hand on the latch. But as always, he fought himself and won. The door opened and shut with a swiftness that left her alone by the time she opened her eyes from the flinch of the slam.
Her defenses at their end, she dropped to the floor and let her tears soak into the sleeve of her blouse. She had no desire to go back to the bed, and even the floorboards held painful memories of their time shared together. A hint of blue blurred with the brown of the wooden floor through the pools of tears in her eyes. She dragged her hand across her eyes to clear her vision long enough to see his flower. With a tear drop clinging to the tip of her finger, she reached out and dabbed up the delicate dry bloom he had offered out to her as if it were his heart teetering fragilely on his own fingertip.
"Why did you ever come here?" she cried as she curled her fingers into a fist, crushing the tiny blossom into her palm.
"Because you are my fate just as much as I am yours," came Lex's voice from the other side of the closed door. She sprang up from her lying position and prepared herself for his entrance. He did not come in. The crackle of the fire was the only sound she heard for several tense moments. Then ever so softly, like all the other assaults on her body, his music drifted through the shut door and penetrated the thick stone walls. He played the pipes of the Highlands, the music that embodied the very people themselves. It could be spirited for a wedding feast or courageous for a battle march, but tonight it was sorrowful, a deep, hurting sorrow that pulled at the heart of anyone capable of love...or loss.
"Please stop," she said through her tears. She did not want to feel like this, for him or anyone right now. She was hurting, yes, but she had to keep her senses about her if she was to save her family.
The music did not stop. The haunting sounds that had been so lovely to melt into when he played them at dinner several nights before were now like the pull of the tide, drowning her slowly with every breath she tried to take.
Sleep. If she could sleep, just for a while, she could regain her stamina and fend off his assault on her rationality, she thought. If she did not respond to him he surely would give up and go away. The bed was the best option for comfort even though they had shared it together. She went there and lay down with her eyes already squeezed tightly closed before her head touched the fluffy down pillow. She began to imagine the music was playing for her wedding...to Mangus.
No matter how hard she tried the tension would not leave her. Her hands gripped into the velvety fabric of the bed cover with each change in his chords. It was the velvet cover that was bothering her, she decided. It held too many memories in the folds of its plushness. Like a mad woman trying to rid herself of evil spirits she could not see, only hear, she tore violently at the green velvet, pulling and tugging, until it lay in a pile on the floor. What she uncovered just beneath it was even more threatening to her fragile emotions.
He had planned this all so well. Padding the bed under the velvet cover was another of his MacLachlan tartans. Her hands reached out to rip it from the bed as well but when she felt its thick softness against her palms, she stopped. Ever so lightly she bunched up a handful in each of her fists. She felt its texture and remembered him. She saw the colors of the weave and was reminded of his dark coloring. Even his smell lingered in the fibers to taunt her. All of it was bundled together nicely with the chords of his song that had yet to cease.
She pulled his tartan up and buried her face in it. There was nowhere to hide from him. He was not just all around her, he was in her, in her in the deepest way, in her heart. With his huge plaid wrapped around her shoulders and trailing behind her, she made her way to the door with the slow steps of defeat. Her shoulder and head leaned against the hard frame, and she slid to the floor in the same position, the same emotional state he had been in.
"Why are you doing this to me?" she asked just loudly enough for him to hear over the foreboding of his music.
The music stopped mid-note. She felt the thud of his head against the door where her head was propped. It was almost as if they were leaning against each other for support, yet not touching.
"I never brought in a man who was innocent of his charges."
She was not sure what that meant or why he was telling her. Maybe he just wanted to clear his own conscience. "How do you know? You are not God. You cannot judge a man's innocence."
"No, I am not God, but we are all human, all capable of breaking at some point. I do what I do well because I know how to reach a man's breaking point."
"And a woman's?" she asked, already knowing the answer was yes because he had brought her to hers with such effortless skill, just as he had brought her the greatest pleasures and happiness she had known in her life.
"I found your father to be innocent just by looking in his eyes, but you..." he trailed off and she heard his heavy sigh.
"I am innocent as well. It is you who is guilty of the only crime here."
"It is not your innocence I am trying to learn."
"What do you want then?" She closed her eyes in exhaustion. "I will tell you anything you want, just leave me be and let me go home. If you are telling the truth then just leave and never return again."
"I am telling the truth. But whether I return here again is dependent on your answer."
There was silence again. A long silence that racked her already tense nerves. "Just ask me and be done with it."
"Is there any way, anything, I could do to make you trust in me again...like the trust we had just two days past?"
"No." It was an easy answer, one she would have answered earlier had he just asked.
"That was too quick. I am very good at getting to the truth, remember."
Oh, how he infuriated her with his presumptions. She thought very hard, dug deep inside her and asked it of only herself, her answer for only her heart. 'Could you trust him again? Do you love him that much?' She held tight to the plaid around her shoulders with one hand and opened her other to reveal the blue flower. Yes, she loved him, but how could she trust a man who had come into her life with the lie of love on his lips and a sword in his hand for her father's heart? She could never live with herself if her foolish feelings of love brought down even one member of either clan.
"No," she said again. "I have thought on it and the answer is no, I can never see us as we were, without a doubt in the back of my mind that you are something other than what you say."
"I swear to you on my mother's soul that I am telling the truth." His words were slow and hoarse. His sincerity plausible. Sandra wanted to believe no honorable man would swear a false oath against his mother's eternal rest, but then she did not know that he was an honorable man any longer.
"There is only one thing you can do that might replace my trust." She sat up hopefully and listened for his response.
"Name it."
"Let me go home." Again she waited anxiously.
"Done."
Sandra stared at the door in amazement. She had not actually thought he would agree. "I do not believe you."
She heard the scraping of metal on metal and looked up to see the lock on the latch turning from the outside. "If you will not have me in your life, then Mangus will escort you back home tomorrow and I will leave for England as well."
"I do not need an escort, nor do I want Mangus anywhere near me."
"Do not hold your anger for me against my clan. Things should go on as before...as if I had never come here."
Sandra thought on his words. For the first time he had actually said something that made him sound like a true Highland chieftain. He put his family and clan before himself. Their well-being before his own happiness. Maybe he had changed from the man who came with a mission to destroy. Or maybe he was setting them all up for another mass slaughter. Her mind could no longer think of him without pulling a doubt in to match his every well-meaning gesture.
"Things will proceed as planned then. I will marry Mangus as if you never existed." She listened hard, hoping to catch even a minute sound of his pain, his reluctance to leave her. The only thing she heard was the slow strike of his boots, one after the other, fading away in the distance, walking away from her.