Read Online MacDougall 01 - Laiden's Daughter by Suzan Tisdale - Free Book Online
Authors: Suzan Tisdale
Tags: Fiction, Historical
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They would not stop for long for they did not know how close the English might be. The pace was brutal, but necessary if they were to get the lass to the safety of their clan. Duncan and his men were used to sleeping little and riding hard for they were warriors. But the lass, he was certain, was not trained for such things.
They would sleep for only a few hours before Duncan would startle her awake. She knew he was not doing it purposefully; it was the dreams, the pain and the fear that rippled through her body each time she woke. “Haud yer wheest!” he would quietly say to her. She did not know what those words meant but assumed it to be some kind of Celtic or Scottish greeting for good morning.
Aishlinn had no idea how far they had travelled for she was in and out of awareness far too many times to count. She longed for a hot bath and a soft pallet to collapse onto. She yearned to sleep peacefully, without the terrifying dreams that haunted her each time she closed her eyes.
Duncan was growing fearful that the lass would not survive the ride back to Dunshire. The longer they rode the more she slept and the more he worried over her. When he would feel her body fall limp in his arms he would explain to her the need for her to remain awake. Doing what he could to keep her from falling into a sleep she might not wake from, he told her stories. He would describe the lands that surrounding his castle and tell her tales of his childhood, his clan and the family that would welcome her with open arms.
They had been riding nearly nonstop for two days when Duncan realized he had to get her off the horse and into a bed. “Manghus,” Duncan said, “We be no’ far from Aric McDonald’s cottage. I fear the lass will no’ make it the full trip to Dunshire.”
Manghus and Rowan nodded their heads in agreement as they began to veer their horses northward. Duncan’s clan held good relations with the clan McDunnah of which Aric was a member. They knew Aric would offer them shelter, food and protection if needed. His wife Rebecca would tend to Aishlinn’s injuries without question.
Arriving very late in the morning, Duncan and his men bounded down the mall hill that led to Aric’s cottage. Aric’s sons had been playing out of doors when they caught sight of Duncan and his men. The boys raced into the cottage to announce that riders approached.
Aric McDonald came rushing outside as Duncan and his men stopped in front of the cottage. He was a mountain of a man, with light coloring and arms as big as tree trunks. Aric took one look at the lass sleeping in Duncan’s arms and began belting out orders for the boys to fetch water and then tend to the horses.
“What the bloody hell happened to her?” Aric barked as Rowan took the lass from Duncan. She lay limp in his arms while Duncan dismounted then took her from him.
Aric led the way into his cottage where his wife Rebecca was in their small kitchen with their young daughter preparing the mid day meal. “What is all the commotion, Aric?” Rebecca asked as she turned to see the group of tall MacDougalls walking into her home. Her eyes grew wide at the sight of the lass lying in Duncan’s arms.
“Och!” Rebecca said. “What the bloody hell happened to her?” She quickly went across the room to draw open a curtain that hid a bed. Duncan gently laid Aishlinn upon it while Rebecca went about examining the wounds. She told her daughter to fetch bandages and warm water.
“Again, I ask what the bloody hell happened to her,” Aric said, a bit more quietly this time.
“It’s a story best not told in front of yer little ones.” Duncan said as he stood staring down at Aishlinn who was still and limp upon the bed.
“This is at a man’s hands.” Rebecca whispered through angry teeth. She could see the faint markings left by fingers around Aishlinn’s neck.
“Aye,” Rowan said.
They would not stop for long for they did not know how close the English might be. The pace was brutal, but necessary if they were to get the lass to the safety of their clan. Duncan and his men were used to sleeping little and riding hard for they were warriors. But the lass, he was certain, was not trained for such things.
They would sleep for only a few hours before Duncan would startle her awake. She knew he was not doing it purposefully; it was the dreams, the pain and the fear that rippled through her body each time she woke. “Haud yer wheest!” he would quietly say to her. She did not know what those words meant but assumed it to be some kind of Celtic or Scottish greeting for good morning.
Aishlinn had no idea how far they had travelled for she was in and out of awareness far too many times to count. She longed for a hot bath and a soft pallet to collapse onto. She yearned to sleep peacefully, without the terrifying dreams that haunted her each time she closed her eyes.
Duncan was growing fearful that the lass would not survive the ride back to Dunshire. The longer they rode the more she slept and the more he worried over her. When he would feel her body fall limp in his arms he would explain to her the need for her to remain awake. Doing what he could to keep her from falling into a sleep she might not wake from, he told her stories. He would describe the lands that surrounding his castle and tell her tales of his childhood, his clan and the family that would welcome her with open arms.
They had been riding nearly nonstop for two days when Duncan realized he had to get her off the horse and into a bed. “Manghus,” Duncan said, “We be no’ far from Aric McDonald’s cottage. I fear the lass will no’ make it the full trip to Dunshire.”
Manghus and Rowan nodded their heads in agreement as they began to veer their horses northward. Duncan’s clan held good relations with the clan McDunnah of which Aric was a member. They knew Aric would offer them shelter, food and protection if needed. His wife Rebecca would tend to Aishlinn’s injuries without question.
Arriving very late in the morning, Duncan and his men bounded down the mall hill that led to Aric’s cottage. Aric’s sons had been playing out of doors when they caught sight of Duncan and his men. The boys raced into the cottage to announce that riders approached.
Aric McDonald came rushing outside as Duncan and his men stopped in front of the cottage. He was a mountain of a man, with light coloring and arms as big as tree trunks. Aric took one look at the lass sleeping in Duncan’s arms and began belting out orders for the boys to fetch water and then tend to the horses.
“What the bloody hell happened to her?” Aric barked as Rowan took the lass from Duncan. She lay limp in his arms while Duncan dismounted then took her from him.
Aric led the way into his cottage where his wife Rebecca was in their small kitchen with their young daughter preparing the mid day meal. “What is all the commotion, Aric?” Rebecca asked as she turned to see the group of tall MacDougalls walking into her home. Her eyes grew wide at the sight of the lass lying in Duncan’s arms.
“Och!” Rebecca said. “What the bloody hell happened to her?” She quickly went across the room to draw open a curtain that hid a bed. Duncan gently laid Aishlinn upon it while Rebecca went about examining the wounds. She told her daughter to fetch bandages and warm water.
“Again, I ask what the bloody hell happened to her,” Aric said, a bit more quietly this time.
“It’s a story best not told in front of yer little ones.” Duncan said as he stood staring down at Aishlinn who was still and limp upon the bed.
“This is at a man’s hands.” Rebecca whispered through angry teeth. She could see the faint markings left by fingers around Aishlinn’s neck.
“Aye,” Rowan said.
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