Hannah & The Highlander [Book 1 in the time travel series]

Chapter Twelve: Betrayal

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Copyright © 2013



Chapter Twelve: Betrayal



@Cailen's P.O.V.@



Unable to keep his composure any longer, Cailen all but ran from Hannah. He charged down the hall, ignoring the irksome cries of merry making coming from the dinning hall. The heady smoke from the meal causing his stomach to turn. Cailen's heart was heavy in his chest, each beat labored, sending an unfamiliar jolt of pain through his body. This was what it meant to have a broken heart.



Cailen bursted into his rooms, a startled serving girl gave a mousy squeak of surprise, nearly dropping the pile of linens in her arms.



"M'lord!" she cried as Cailen charged past her, completely ignoring the girls presence as he grabbed hold of one of the tall candlesticks throwing it out of his way. The object hit the floor with a deafening metallic clang, sending the frightened wench running from the room.



Cailen's fist collided with the wall, once, twice, thrice, leaving his knuckles scuffed and bloody. He growled a stream of foul curses as he slumped down on his bed. He cursed Douglas and his insistent meddling. He cursed Hannah and the strange world she claimed to be from. Most of all he cursed his foolish heart.



A gentle knocking roused him from his self pity. He grumbled the intruder access and in walked in Angus, one of Cailen's men at arms.



"M'laird, is all well?" the large man asked as he shuffled into the room.



"Nay, but never mind me. What brings you here?" Cailen asked as he sat up straight on his bed.



"Eileen noticed ye skipped sup. She sent me up with a bit o' food and mulled wine, my laird," Angus said as he made his way towards his laird.



A flutter of fondness slipped through Cailen's dower mood. Eileen was like a mother hen, she was.



"Thank you, and send my gratitude to Eileen as well." Cailen said as he took the plait laded with food and the goblet of wine, with a nod Angus departed.



He placed the plate heaped with meats, fruits and a helping of cook's sweet bread down on the bed and turned his attention to the wine goblet in his hand. The dark red liquid inside was placid and murky like the loch just outside his keep. He swirled the liquid before holding it aloft towards his clansman.



"To the Clan! May we have many more years as fortunate as this," he toasted with a bitterly edge to his voice, before tilting his head back and gulping down the goblet's contents in a single gulp.



He threw the goblet away, the cup clattering loudly on the stone floor. The wine had left his blood warm and his senses tingling. He was about to ask Angus to bring him more, when suddenly the room began to tilt band twirl. Unable to cry out in surprise Cailen fell flat on the bed, a drug induced sleep taking hold of him.



@Caitriona's P.O.V.@



Caitriona peaked into the lairds chamber to find him dozing like a babe, unawares of the traitorous acts going on in his own keep. Slowly, she eased her way into his chamber, as quiet as a church mouse she made her way towards his slumbering form. It had been child's play drugging her laird's wine, for in truth, the laird was far too trusting. She had not planned to act so soon. But when she had caught her laird with that . . . that . . . that bitch, she hadn't been able to control herself. That little chit forced her hand. She had gone for MacKinnon's spy telling him promptly of her plan's gaining his assistance.



With the laird drugged McKinnon's men were free to take that meddlesome whore and make sure she never crossed Caitriona's path again. Aye, this was what must happen.'Twas the only way.



Caitriona's eyes were drawn to the slumbering man on the bed. 'Twas not often one saw the laird so at peace. He looked his true age when dozed, not the hardened man who had been fashioned so by too many years of hardship. Aye, she and her laird were truly two halves of a whole. They both knew hardship and tragedy with a shocking intimacy. The laird would realize that now that the trollop was gone.



Leaning down, Caitriona placed a gentle, dove-like kiss upon his rough cheek, a deep electrifying thrill spreading through her at the contact.



Soon, she thought. Soon you will be mine, only mine for the rest of my days.



Aye, all would be perfect now.



@Hannah's P.O.V@



I awoke suddenly, blinking blindly against the abyss of darkness that created me. I sat up slowly, my back stiff with protest. My eyes stung from too many tears, along with the sharp razor stab of a migraine assaulting my temple. What had woken me?



"Ma'am."



I jumped in surprise facing the point in the darkness where the voice had come from. From the shadows a vaguely familiar man stepped forward. He was large in a commanding way, he oozed intimidation. It was too dark to see his face, shadows played across the sharp angles of his face.



I gaze a shaky laugh, and began climbing to my feet. "I'm sorry, you scared me."



"The wrong was all mine, m'lady. The laird sent me to fetch ye. He craves a word in his chambers."



I frowned. Cailen? He wanted to see me after everything that had happened between us? How long had I been asleep? The minutes could have slipped past into hours without me noticing. I played with the fabric of the beautiful dress considering what I should do. Talk to Cailen or ignore him?



"Okay," I said moving to follow him.



"Good, if ye will follow me, lady," the big man said.



I scurried after him. His legs were practically three times the length of mine, so I had to speed walk. We walked in a silence so heavy you could choke on it. I cleared my throat, the sudden noise jolting in the quiet of the night.



"Um, so, do you know what it was Cail-er, the laird, wanted to talk to me about?"



"The laird doesnna discuss such things with me," the man said, not even sparing me a glance.



Okaaay. Small talk was out of the equation. I glanced around suddenly realizing something odd.



"Hey, aren't we going the wrong way?"



The big man stopped, turning to look at me for the first time. Darkness engulfed his features, his identity masked.



"Nay, the laird bid me ta take ye somewhere the two o' ye could converse in private," he explained gruffly.



Warning bells sounded off in my mind. Bad day, bad day, bad day! This guy had creeper vibes just rolling off of him. I started to edge away, striving to keep some semblance of calm even as hostile waves of fear began to take hold of me. The hall we were in was secluded, not a soul in sight and all was frighteningly quiet.



"Y-you know, you never did say what your name was," I said as I started towards the way we had come.



"Donnae make trouble fer me lass," the gruff man growled as he watched my every move.



The threat in his voice made me pause a second too long. He was on me in a moment; his big, crushing hands pinning my arms behind my back so roughly, I heard something pop. I fought with all might; I kicked, bucked and twisted until I was sure I had pulled something important out of its socket. I was left frustrated and winded, my fear growing into terror.



"What do you want?!" I asked unable to hide my fear.



"Yer not meant ta be 'ere," he hissed as he squeezed my arms, causing white flames of pain to ignite. I choked back a yelp of pain.



"Stop!"



"If ye donnae stop yer infernal caterwauling I'll silence ye for good!"



I shut up. I didn't have a doubt in my mind that this guy wasn't above hitting a girl. He dragged me down the deserted hall towards a tapestry, reaching behind it, he pulled something and the wall slowly gave away to a gapping black tunnel. I allowed him to drag me down the hall a ways, the pitch black darkness devouring us, making it impossible to see anything.



I stumbled as he dragged me through the tunnel, my eyes blind and my arms rendered useless. I was like a rag doll; useless and his mercy. As we moved deeper into the damp tunnel, a soft glow began to illuminate the darkness, and the echoes of voice reverberated from the walls. The voices were distinctly male, gruff accented and deep, like the growling rumble of thunder.



". . . Risk our lives . . ."



". . . Why we trust . . . ."



There words were lost to me. We were nearly to the light, close enough that I could smell the smoke and ash. I looked up at the man who held, trying to get a glimpse of my kidnapper. He glanced down at me, then to the torch light uttering a venomous oath.



"Blasted MacKinnon dogs!"



A chill zigzagged up and down my spine. MacKinnon. Flashes of that battle flashed before my mind's eye. The devastation, the cries of terror, the smell of blood mingling with the smog of ash. Fear gripped me, twisting my insides into a pretzel.

I have to get away, I thought, a new surge of defiance filling me to the brim. I started to fight wildly, tugging and twisting wildly trying to break his grip. The man snarled as he attempted to put an end to my struggling. Suddenly, I went limp, just like Dad had taught me. Just like how we practiced, the man fell back, unprepared for my dead weight. I seized my chance and shot forward.



The man hissed as he clambered to his feet. With the way we had come blocked off with about six feet something of pissed off kidnapper, I took the only rout I had; straight ahead towards where the MacKinnon's were waiting. I sprinted forward, racing towards the light. My lungs burned, my legs cried out in protest. My feet caught the hem of the damn dress, I didn't even have time to scream when the floor was suddenly crashing into me head on.



I gasped as the force of the fall knocked the air from my lungs. I tried to claw away, but a hand clasped my ankle, it's grip like an iron vise. I pulled back and kicked out as hard as I could, my foot connecting with his face. He gave a satisfying curse as he fell away from me. A serge of hope filled me. I started to get up when I noticed a pair of long, booted legs, a vaguely familiar scruff of plaid making up the kilt he wore. I looked up and up, and before me was a blond guy that could've passed for a surfer/football player. With a trickle of fear I recognized the tartan.



He's a MacKinnon, I thought with a condemned feeling growing inside me.



"What's this, lad? Ye cannae even handle a wee lass like her?" he said, his lifting voice jovial and filled with sarcasm.



"The bloody bitch broke me nose! I'll skin 'er 'ere an' noow!" the man howled venomously, his accent growing thicker with his anger.



"Now, now, we cannae hae that! The hellion bitch failed ta say Ye were such a pretty little temptress, ma dear," the man said as he offered me his hand.



I stared at it, as if it were some sort poisonous snake that was ready to strike me at any moment. The man chuckled loudly, as if my reaction was the funniest thing since Eddie Murphy. He glanced over at the other man, his companion, chuckling joyfully.



"There willna be a dull moment wi' her at the keep, aye, Lachlan?"



The man, Lachlan, let a snicker, a predatory smile lifting up the corners of his mouth.



"She be a spitfire. We may hae more on our plate then we thought, my laird."



My heart dropped out of my cheating, hitting my stomach with a splat.



"'Laird'," I whispered, the tiny word bounced off the walls and sounded like a deafening shout to my ears.



The blond giant grinned pointedly at me, his eyes afire with some sort of dark emotion. I wanted throw up all over him and wipe that look off his face.



"Aye, allow me to introduce myself, I am Tavish MacKinnon, laird of Tioman castle."



My throat was dry, and now I was most defiantly going to be sick. I tried to edge away, but they caught the slight motion and Lachlan was grabbing, pulling my arms behind my back, his grip bone crushing. I twisted against his unbreakable grip, snarling ever curse word I knew and a few I made up on the spot. MacKinnon let a body shaking laugh, a wolffish smile turning up his mouth.



"Aye, ye will be a most delightful distraction! An' when MacBain is dead, and Argyll is mine, ye will be a most fitting leman for a highlander laird."



I spit at him, the nasty wad of saliva hitting his booted foot. "Go to hell, you douche!"



"Aye!" he chortled, flashing a toothy grin at Lachlan. "She is indeed a wee spitfire!"



I growled twisting all the more. Where was Cailen? Why wasn't he here? Something on my face must have betrayed my thoughts, because Tavish grinned coyly as he sauntered towards me.



"MacBain willna come. He is . . . occupied." He said as he lifted up his large, beefy hand to brush the clumps of hit that had come undone from Daisy's complex up do. He stared at me, his eyes alight with a ravenous fire, that familiar wolffish smile returning.



"Ye are far too bonny a lass to spew such foul words. Ye would be better suited to adorn my bed," he said, his smile lecherous.



Okay, now I was going to be sick. He drew closer, and his scent filled my senses; he smelled like he hadn't bathed in a week with a hint of some other overpowering cologne that made my head ache. His hand reached up, smoothing back the snarled tangles of my hair. Fear welled up inside me, paralyzingly me. He was so close I could feel his breath fanning across my face; warm and filled with the bitter scent of wine.



"When ye wake again, ye will be in my castle, wi' no one there ta protect ye," he whispered, he took a sip from the water skin he had been carrying, before suddenly smashing his mouth against mine.



The kiss was sickening. It was about dominance, nothing tender or sweet or even desirable, as though he were trying to devour my soul. I felt the liquid travel down my throat, nearly chocking me. I sputtered and gaged but he ignored my discomfort. I twisted but it was useless. I was immobile, completely at his mercy. He shoved away from me as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.



"Sweet dreams, lass." he said his grin condescending.



I opened my mouth to chew him out but was hit by a wave of nausea. The room tilted and the floor vanished from beneath my feet. Before the darkness claimed me, my last thoughts were of Cailen.



____________________________Author's Note_____________________________

I have recently found some amazing time travel books!!! First is Timeless by Alexandra Monir-utter brilliance composed to paper and ink!!! I want the second book soo badly!!! Next for those of you who may want something more mature is Gwyn Cready. Her Outlander books are sort of similar to what I'm doing with this. I haven't read her books yet, but I'm looking forward to it :) Also there is the River of Time series by Lisa T. Bergen. I LOVE THESE BOOKS!!!!!!



And my dad-who has been in a GREAT mood since getting the Galaxy S III-got me the Cassadee Pope The Voice Season 3 CD!!! I just sort of slid it into the cart and he didn't say anything when we got to the cash register. So happy :) Anyway happy Valentines Day!!! And if you're a V- day hater . . . Happy Thursday! And mom and I have a full day of shopping planed! We're on the hunt for Of Monsters and Men's My Head Is An Animal. We just adore Little Talks!!!



In H&H related news I decided to do some research. According to Google there were various wars during the 12th century, most of them between the clanns. And what's more there really was a Clan known as MacBain, but they spell it Mcbain. It comes from the MacBeth clan line, their lands were in the far north near the West Coast. And I was a bit disappointed to see that I was WAY off on the tartan colors. Their real ones look like christmas threw up on it. Anyway, I've been good at updating this story lately. But, I have to give my others attention too. Especially Wild Roses & Taming Thorns and Wolves of Rome.

Bye guys! Fan, COMMENT, VOTE!!!!! Thanks for reading!