Page 25 of Highlander’s Devious Ally

For a while the defenders put up some resistance, but they were outnumbered, and no match for Lyall’s disciplined garrison. In three minutes it was all over, and the ground was littered with the groaning bodies of the wounded and the dead.

None had been ready for the shock of the ambush, and when it was over, all of three minutes later, most of Jock’s men were lying in the mud moaning or not moving at all.

Inside the cottage where Findlay had run in the first minute of the ambush, Jock had been floored by a mighty swipe from his right fist on the left side of his face, and had hit the ground with an audible thump. Then Findlay hauled Jock up from the ground and gave him another swinging punch on the jaw with his right fist. All the brute strength of his arm and shoulder was behind it, and Ailith heard a crack as Findlay threw him back on the ground.

“That was for my brother, you gutless swine,” he growled, “although I would like to do a lot more, like torturing you on the rack.” Then he aimed a kick into Jock’s stomach, and he squealed like a stuck pig, writhing on the floor in agony until one of Lyall’s guards hauled him up and bound his hands so tightly behind his back that he screamed in pain. Findlay smiled with sadistic satisfaction.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, deceptively softly.

“Yes,” Jock replied, with tears of pain in his eyes.

“Excellent,” Findlay replied savagely. “By the way, you have not remarked on my personality change, M'Laird. Do you like the new me?”

“I liked the old one better,” Jock replied, scowling. That remark earned him another blow to his stomach.

“What a pity,” Findlay replied in a silky tone as he bent down to take a vicious tug at Jock’s hair. “Because you are never going to see him again. And by the way, I am taking back my brother’s horse. I have lost count of the number of kicks you have given me over the years but I will give you back as many of them as I can; after all, fair exchange is no robbery. Starting with this one.” He swung his leg back and with his booted foot he kicked Jock hard in the shin.

Jock let out a bloodcurdling scream. “Get used to it,” Findlay advised him, dusting off his hands. “There are a lot more where that came from.”

Lyall rushed into the cottage, where Ailith was standing in the middle of a filthy room that was covered in mud, cobwebs, and dust and smelled of mold.

Immediately he was incensed. How could Jock keep Ailie in a place like this? As he entered, a rat scurried across the floor and disappeared into a crack in the wall.

Ailith fell into his arms, bursting into fresh tears as she did so, and she held onto him with her remaining strength, leaning on his solid, hard body, safe at last. She realized one thing in that moment; Lyall was her home and her refuge, and as long as she had him to hold onto and shelter under, she would never need anyone else.

Lyall sighed with relief and love as he tightened his arms around her. “You are safe now Ailie, and you will be safe forever. Forgive me for allowing this to happen to you, but I have come to take you home.”

“Lyall, it was not your fault,” she whispered, “Jock—he fooled me completely. I thought he was a good man, even when he was unpleasant to me...I never thought he would do this.”

Lyall bent his head down to kiss her but she turned her head away. “No, Lyall—I stink,” she said, disgusted. “They gave me no water to wash.”

Indeed, she was filthy. Her hair was lank and greasy, her face and body covered in mud from the hole she had been digging. She had torn strips of fabric from her brown dress to bandage her bleeding hands, and it hung in rags from her body. She had lost weight on her starvation diet, and he could feel her ribs beginning to protrude a little.

Lyall was seething inside, but he bit down his anger. “You smell of all the perfumes of Arabia to me,” he murmured, leaning his forehead on hers. “Now will you give me a kiss, or will I have to steal one from you?”

“Are you sure?” she asked, “I am so dirty.” But his only answer was to press his lips to hers, gently but firmly. The feel of his mouth on hers was heavenly, but she was weak from hunger, pain, and exhaustion. With a small sigh, safe in his strong and protective embrace, she gave herself up to unconsciousness.

Lyall, feeling her go limp, lifted her into his arms, then he listened to her heart. It was still beating strongly, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He put her down gently on the thin mattress and went to find Findlay.

“Ailie has fainted,” he said urgently. “Can you go to Kinlochan and get Mistress Kennie, the wise woman?”

“Of course. I know her well!” Findlay replied, looking concerned. “Is she all right? It may just be the stress of all this that has taken its toll on her. I will lend her my horse Tammy.”

“What will you ride?” Lyall asked, knowing the answer already. He wanted Findlay to take the swiftest horse.

“Sheba, of course,” Findlay replied, “now and forever. I will be back soon.”

While he was away, Lyall cradled Ailith’s head in her lap and looked around himself. Ailith had tried to sweep the floor as best she could with her bare hands, but it was clear that the whole cottage needed to be scrubbed spotless from floor to ceiling. He wondered what she had been eating; now he could see a crust of bread on a plate, a half-eaten bowl of porridge, and a half-full pitcher of water. There was no soap or washing water anywhere. It seemed clear that Ailith had been receiving a very meager amount of food and had done her best to divide it up throughout the day.

Oh, my God, he thought, what has he done to you, my precious? Then he caught sight of her hands. Ailith had torn strips from her dress to bandage them.

Lyall looked down at the lovely face that had become so dear to him and felt a furious surge of anger inside himself, and he knew that if Jock caused Ailith’s death he would not be responsible for the consequences. His rage was like a living thing; if for once he let it loose it would destroy whatever got in his path.

He was desperately anxious; her face was so pale, and she was so still. He checked the pulse at her neck again but it was still reassuringly strong, and he cradled her against him, wishing he could take her fatigue and pain away from her and feel it on her behalf.

She stirred, then turned her head this way and that for a few moments before looking into his eyes.

“Lyall,” she frowned, confused for a moment. “I thought...I thought I might never see you again.”