Chapter One
Caitlyn kept a wary eye behind her as she slipped into the dense woods by the keep the rest of her clan now called home. Dismounting from her
horse, she turned for one last look. With everyone's attention diverted to their assigned tasks, it had been almost too easy to slip away this time.
When her horse shifted, causing his bridle to jingle, Caitlyn put a hand on his nose. "Shh, Nightshade," she admonished, "ye dinnae wish to gi'e
us away, do ye?"
The horse bobbed his head as if he understood, then stood quietly beside her.
Using a large oak to shield herself from any eyes looking in her direction, she watched the clan scurry about, everyone busily settling in. Her
father, Alistair MacGregor, along with her elder brother, Iain, stood in the middle of the bailey directing the men in either fortifying the walls or
seeing to the unloading of the heavier carts. Meanwhile, her mother, Sorcha, tried to be everywhere at once.
Caitlyn stifled a giggle as she watched Sorcha hurry from one person to the other. Sorcha stopped to speak with several maids whose arms were
full of linens and such, before she rushed across the courtyard to speak with Cook for a moment. Spotting Elsbeth, Caitlyn's wet-nurse and her
mother's friend and companion, Sorcha interrupted whatever Cook was saying, lifted her skirts and ran over to speak with Elsie.
Shaking her head, her hands gesturing and pointing as she spoke revealed Sorcha's animated speech. With a nod of reassurance to Elsie, she
turned away and headed back to Cook.
Alistair reached out to grab his wife about the waist as she rushed by. Ignoring her shriek of surprise, he pulled her close, bending his head to
whisper in her ear. Sorcha slapped at his arm, but laughed in delight at whatever he'd said. When she squirmed, he dropped a kiss on her nose
and released her to be about her business.
A sigh of intense longing escaped before Caitlyn could stop it. Maybe someday, she too would get to experience the kind of love and passion her
parents still portrayed, even after forty odd years of being wed. She swiped at a tear that leaked from her eyes to roll down her cheek.
Fists clenched, she fought to swallow the lump in her throat. There was no time for tears or self-pity. She knew what needed to be done and
do it she would. The sooner she got to France, the sooner she could find her two eldest brothers and bring them home where they belonged.
Neither Jamie, nor Duncan, gone for almost thirteen years, knew of the Kings edict against the MacGregor clan. They had no idea that just
bearing the name MacGregor could get a man killed or a woman branded like a piece of cattle. And Heaven forbid if the lass had any bairns, for
they would be taken from her and given to another clan, to be raised by strangers.
Caitlyn's own mother and Elsie had already suffered from such a branding. It could have turned in a raping as well if they had not fought so hard
to keep their attackers at bay until help arrived. Her mother hadn't left her assailants unmarked either. Sorcha was very handy with a blade,
wielding it well enough to do some major damage.
Straightening her spine, determination took a firm hold in her heart. Never would she let another of her kinsmen, or kinswomen, endure that
humiliation or pain again. Finding her brothers and bringing them home was only the first step. They then needed some solution to this problem
King James VI, along with the Campbells, had foisted upon them. A solution that did not involve herself being wed to a swine like Blake
Drummond.
A shudder passed through her.
Though quite sure her father would never force her to wed against her will, Caitlyn knew that by wedding into such a powerful clan, the
MacGregor's would have a much needed, influential ally on their side. One who could speak on their behalf to the King, as the Campbell laird
was supposed to have done.
The tales about Blake's cruelty, however, gave her pause. Though she realized they might be exaggerated, she also knew there was usually some
truth to such rumors. From the odd glimpses of feverish light she'd seen in his eyes on occasion when he didn't realize she watched, she was
more than ready to believe them true.
Nearing twenty-three, she should have been long since wed with a couple of bairns to show for it. But her parents, especially her mother, always
insisted Caitlyn be allowed to have some choice in the matter. Sorcha had married for love and saw no reason why her children should not do the
same.
Caitlyn agreed. Too many matches were made for alliances or money, and in most of those she'd witnessed, one or both parties to such a union
were miserable, doing what they could to hurt each other.
Shaking aside those thoughts, Caitlyn refocused once more on her family, a small smile on her lips as she envisioned them all together once
again. The sooner she started on her journey, the sooner she'd accomplish her goal and reunite with them. Why she couldn't shake the sudden
feeling that she would not be seeing them again for a very long time, she didn't care to ponder.
Foolishness, she decided and turned to mount. One foot in the stirrup, she couldn't stop one last look over her shoulder. With a grimace of
resoluteness, she mounted Nightshade and rode away, burying the urge to look back again.
* * *
With a sigh of intense relief, Caitlyn pulled off her boots and submerged her aching feet in the icy stream. After close to four days of hard riding
on little used paths to avoid any main roads or towns where people were wont to be overly curious and might ask too many questions about a lass
traveling on her own, she'd stopped earlier than usual tonight. The small stream running close to a secluded clearing beckoned to her as soon as
she'd spotted it.
"'Tis as good a place to rest as any, wouldnae ye say, Nightshade?" She rose from the bank and returned to her mount.
The horse stomped and blew in agreement as Caitlyn loosened the saddle and removed her pack. Glancing up at the sky as she collected enough
wood for a fire, she wondered how long her luck would hold and the weather remain fine. It had been unseasonably warm for the past fortnight.
She only hoped it would continue for awhile, at least until she got to France.
Soon, a nice fire blazed, large enough to keep any unwanted beasties away. The water beckoned to her again as a sudden longing for a bath
assailed her. That would be heartily foolish. She knew better than to indulge in such an ill-advised idea, at least until she found her brothers and
had someone to guard her back. Perhaps then she could gratify to that desire. At least she could still wash some of the dirt and sweat from her
person without leaving herself open and exposed for an attack.
With that thought, she grabbed her saddle pack, rummaging through it until she found a small piece of lavender soap and a square of linen. The
stream wasn't very deep and being fed from the snow of the mountains because of the recent warmth, was extremely cold. She likely would
have frozen before she'd accomplished a decent bath anyway.
Returning to the shore, she knelt, but found it difficult with her sword, still attached to her hip, poking into the ground. Standing, she unbuckled
the sword belt, laying it close beside her should she need it.
Unlacing the tunic she'd borrowed from Iain, she dipped the cloth in the water, soaped it and began to wash, shivering as the icy water touched
her skin. Gritting her teeth against the cold, she continued, her movements quick and efficient.
A noise from behind her in the growing twilight made her stop all movement. Going completely still, as she'd been taught, she turned slowly, one
hand automatically going to her weapon. Seeing nothing, she cocked her head to listen. Nothing out of the ordinary, just the normal sounds of
night approaching.
Uneasy, she rose, sword in hand, and checked the perimeter of her camp. Peering into the brush and trees, she saw no shape that didn't belong.
With a shrug, she returned to the stream. Must have been an animal of some kind. If so, it was probably more frightened of her fire than she
was of it.
Still, as she picked up her cloth and resumed her wash, a flicker of apprehension coursed through her, causing the fine hairs at the nape of her
neck to spring to life. Whipping her head around, she expected to see someone or something behind her, watching her, waiting to spring.
Nothing.
With a shaky breath, she forced herself to relax and chuckle. "Get a hold of yourself, ye wee silly thing. There is nobody about but ye and your
wee silly fears."
"Oh, I wouldnae be so certain of that, my love." The voice made her spin about again, sword in one hand, the other going for the dagger at her
waistband.
Caitlyn gasped, a shiver of panic running through her as she stared at the man before her. Her stomach clenched in terror when a satanic smile
spread across Blake Drummond's lips.
Caitlyn kept a wary eye behind her as she slipped into the dense woods by the keep the rest of her clan now called home. Dismounting from her
horse, she turned for one last look. With everyone's attention diverted to their assigned tasks, it had been almost too easy to slip away this time.
When her horse shifted, causing his bridle to jingle, Caitlyn put a hand on his nose. "Shh, Nightshade," she admonished, "ye dinnae wish to gi'e
us away, do ye?"
The horse bobbed his head as if he understood, then stood quietly beside her.
Using a large oak to shield herself from any eyes looking in her direction, she watched the clan scurry about, everyone busily settling in. Her
father, Alistair MacGregor, along with her elder brother, Iain, stood in the middle of the bailey directing the men in either fortifying the walls or
seeing to the unloading of the heavier carts. Meanwhile, her mother, Sorcha, tried to be everywhere at once.
Caitlyn stifled a giggle as she watched Sorcha hurry from one person to the other. Sorcha stopped to speak with several maids whose arms were
full of linens and such, before she rushed across the courtyard to speak with Cook for a moment. Spotting Elsbeth, Caitlyn's wet-nurse and her
mother's friend and companion, Sorcha interrupted whatever Cook was saying, lifted her skirts and ran over to speak with Elsie.
Shaking her head, her hands gesturing and pointing as she spoke revealed Sorcha's animated speech. With a nod of reassurance to Elsie, she
turned away and headed back to Cook.
Alistair reached out to grab his wife about the waist as she rushed by. Ignoring her shriek of surprise, he pulled her close, bending his head to
whisper in her ear. Sorcha slapped at his arm, but laughed in delight at whatever he'd said. When she squirmed, he dropped a kiss on her nose
and released her to be about her business.
A sigh of intense longing escaped before Caitlyn could stop it. Maybe someday, she too would get to experience the kind of love and passion her
parents still portrayed, even after forty odd years of being wed. She swiped at a tear that leaked from her eyes to roll down her cheek.
Fists clenched, she fought to swallow the lump in her throat. There was no time for tears or self-pity. She knew what needed to be done and
do it she would. The sooner she got to France, the sooner she could find her two eldest brothers and bring them home where they belonged.
Neither Jamie, nor Duncan, gone for almost thirteen years, knew of the Kings edict against the MacGregor clan. They had no idea that just
bearing the name MacGregor could get a man killed or a woman branded like a piece of cattle. And Heaven forbid if the lass had any bairns, for
they would be taken from her and given to another clan, to be raised by strangers.
Caitlyn's own mother and Elsie had already suffered from such a branding. It could have turned in a raping as well if they had not fought so hard
to keep their attackers at bay until help arrived. Her mother hadn't left her assailants unmarked either. Sorcha was very handy with a blade,
wielding it well enough to do some major damage.
Straightening her spine, determination took a firm hold in her heart. Never would she let another of her kinsmen, or kinswomen, endure that
humiliation or pain again. Finding her brothers and bringing them home was only the first step. They then needed some solution to this problem
King James VI, along with the Campbells, had foisted upon them. A solution that did not involve herself being wed to a swine like Blake
Drummond.
A shudder passed through her.
Though quite sure her father would never force her to wed against her will, Caitlyn knew that by wedding into such a powerful clan, the
MacGregor's would have a much needed, influential ally on their side. One who could speak on their behalf to the King, as the Campbell laird
was supposed to have done.
The tales about Blake's cruelty, however, gave her pause. Though she realized they might be exaggerated, she also knew there was usually some
truth to such rumors. From the odd glimpses of feverish light she'd seen in his eyes on occasion when he didn't realize she watched, she was
more than ready to believe them true.
Nearing twenty-three, she should have been long since wed with a couple of bairns to show for it. But her parents, especially her mother, always
insisted Caitlyn be allowed to have some choice in the matter. Sorcha had married for love and saw no reason why her children should not do the
same.
Caitlyn agreed. Too many matches were made for alliances or money, and in most of those she'd witnessed, one or both parties to such a union
were miserable, doing what they could to hurt each other.
Shaking aside those thoughts, Caitlyn refocused once more on her family, a small smile on her lips as she envisioned them all together once
again. The sooner she started on her journey, the sooner she'd accomplish her goal and reunite with them. Why she couldn't shake the sudden
feeling that she would not be seeing them again for a very long time, she didn't care to ponder.
Foolishness, she decided and turned to mount. One foot in the stirrup, she couldn't stop one last look over her shoulder. With a grimace of
resoluteness, she mounted Nightshade and rode away, burying the urge to look back again.
* * *
With a sigh of intense relief, Caitlyn pulled off her boots and submerged her aching feet in the icy stream. After close to four days of hard riding
on little used paths to avoid any main roads or towns where people were wont to be overly curious and might ask too many questions about a lass
traveling on her own, she'd stopped earlier than usual tonight. The small stream running close to a secluded clearing beckoned to her as soon as
she'd spotted it.
"'Tis as good a place to rest as any, wouldnae ye say, Nightshade?" She rose from the bank and returned to her mount.
The horse stomped and blew in agreement as Caitlyn loosened the saddle and removed her pack. Glancing up at the sky as she collected enough
wood for a fire, she wondered how long her luck would hold and the weather remain fine. It had been unseasonably warm for the past fortnight.
She only hoped it would continue for awhile, at least until she got to France.
Soon, a nice fire blazed, large enough to keep any unwanted beasties away. The water beckoned to her again as a sudden longing for a bath
assailed her. That would be heartily foolish. She knew better than to indulge in such an ill-advised idea, at least until she found her brothers and
had someone to guard her back. Perhaps then she could gratify to that desire. At least she could still wash some of the dirt and sweat from her
person without leaving herself open and exposed for an attack.
With that thought, she grabbed her saddle pack, rummaging through it until she found a small piece of lavender soap and a square of linen. The
stream wasn't very deep and being fed from the snow of the mountains because of the recent warmth, was extremely cold. She likely would
have frozen before she'd accomplished a decent bath anyway.
Returning to the shore, she knelt, but found it difficult with her sword, still attached to her hip, poking into the ground. Standing, she unbuckled
the sword belt, laying it close beside her should she need it.
Unlacing the tunic she'd borrowed from Iain, she dipped the cloth in the water, soaped it and began to wash, shivering as the icy water touched
her skin. Gritting her teeth against the cold, she continued, her movements quick and efficient.
A noise from behind her in the growing twilight made her stop all movement. Going completely still, as she'd been taught, she turned slowly, one
hand automatically going to her weapon. Seeing nothing, she cocked her head to listen. Nothing out of the ordinary, just the normal sounds of
night approaching.
Uneasy, she rose, sword in hand, and checked the perimeter of her camp. Peering into the brush and trees, she saw no shape that didn't belong.
With a shrug, she returned to the stream. Must have been an animal of some kind. If so, it was probably more frightened of her fire than she
was of it.
Still, as she picked up her cloth and resumed her wash, a flicker of apprehension coursed through her, causing the fine hairs at the nape of her
neck to spring to life. Whipping her head around, she expected to see someone or something behind her, watching her, waiting to spring.
Nothing.
With a shaky breath, she forced herself to relax and chuckle. "Get a hold of yourself, ye wee silly thing. There is nobody about but ye and your
wee silly fears."
"Oh, I wouldnae be so certain of that, my love." The voice made her spin about again, sword in one hand, the other going for the dagger at her
waistband.
Caitlyn gasped, a shiver of panic running through her as she stared at the man before her. Her stomach clenched in terror when a satanic smile
spread across Blake Drummond's lips.
| Caitlyn's Ring Love shines through the mists of time carrying not only the heart between now and then. You may purchase this ring here |
| Terisa Wilcox Passion, adventure and Highland Romance ...travel back in time for love |
