Ceci Giltenan(68)

Katherine stilled. She was terrified. Finally she asked, “Who are you and what do you want with me?”

He released her legs, but he still kept one arm firmly clamped around her waist. He nudged the black into a trot towards Eachan. “My lady, I am Tadhg Matheson, laird of Clan Matheson. Am I right in assuming ye are Niall MacIan’s wife?” She gave a little nod. “Then, my lady, what I want is for ye to be my guest at Cnocreidh.” By this time he had ridden close enough to the brown gelding to take hold of the reins. Then he turned both horses back in the direction from which they had just ridden.

Katherine turned her head so she could look him in the face. “My husband will kill you,” she said, with more bravado than she felt.

He smiled at her and said mockingly, “And just where is he, lass? If ye were my wife I wouldn’t trust a group of cowardly MacLennans to see to your safety.”

Tears threatened and she looked away. “He thought he was keeping me safe,” she said defensively, adding, “Laird MacLennan is one of his oldest friends, and Niall trusts him.”

“Well, as it appears Laird MacIan’s trust was misplaced. His oldest friend has abandoned ye.”

She knew he was right. If Malcolm and his other men were ‘just around the corner’ as her escort had said, they should have heard the attack and ridden back.

She bowed her head, feeling completely defeated, “Why do ye want me?”

“Lass, have ye never seen your reflection? There are many reasons a man would want ye.” She snapped her head around in fear and he quit teasing. “Lass, ye are in no danger, I swear. I am going to take ye to my home and keep ye safely there until I can get your hard-headed husband to stop raiding my holding.”

By this time they were back at the scene of the ambush. Her MacLennan escort had been relieved of their weapons and sat on the ground bound at the wrists and ankles. The Matheson warriors sat on their mounts, waiting for their laird to return. One of them asked, “What do ye want us to do with them, Laird?”

“Take the horses. We’ll leave the cowards trussed. I expect MacLennan will send someone for them, but one never knows what a cur will do. Just in case, leave a dagger, maybe they will manage to free themselves before Laird MacIan can kill them. Oh, and lads, one last thing,” he said, addressing the MacLennan soldiers, “Please make sure Niall MacIan gets this message. His lovely wife will be my honored guest at Cnocreidh until he is willing to discuss a truce.” Then he signaled his men to leave and the Matheson warriors rode fast and hard to the northwest with seven new horses and Katherine MacIan.

He might consider her “his guest,” but she knew that was a farce. After her initial fight he had loosened his grip on her. She suspected that he believed she had resigned herself to the situation. He was mistaken. If he thought she would make this easy for him, he had another thing coming.

She might not be able to escape easily, but she could make him miserable, so she launched a more insidious attack. She fidgeted and twisted on his lap, forcing him to constantly readjust in order to maintain balance. Occasionally she bumped his chin with her head, knocking his head backwards, or dug her sharp elbows into his ribs. Each time she issued a polite, sweet apology. Katherine was prepared to make him suffer the whole journey, but before long he must have realized these were not accidents. “Enough! Ye will sit still,” he commanded, clamping an arm around her waist and once again pulling her firmly against his chest.

Having effectively curtailed her attack there was nothing left for Katherine to do but endure the ride and think. She tried to fit all the pieces together. She could not find an explanation for Malcolm’s abandonment or the fact that her MacLennan escorts had barely raised a sword. Laird Matheson had said something about getting Niall to stop raiding, but it was Matheson who kept harassing the MacIans. Nothing made sense. She needed Niall. She was afraid and she needed to escape, but as long as Laird Matheson held her on horseback, she couldn’t. She would have to find an excuse to get down and get away.

~ * ~

Tadhg had hoped if they pushed, they would reach Cnocreidh before sunset, but when darkness fell, they were still about an hour’s ride away. However, the temperature dropped and a bitter cold wind whipped up. He had no intention of sleeping on the frozen ground with this particular hostage. The moon was bright and they rode over familiar terrain well within Matheson territory, so he pushed on at a slower pace.

After hours of silence from her, his hostage turned her head and, looking up at him, said, “Laird Matheson—”

“Please call me Tadhg.” He looked at her for a moment. Even in the low light, the fear he saw in her eyes concerned him.