Captivated by a Highlander

Chapter 12 - Loathing

It was becoming harder and harder everyday to avoid Kain Monroe.

I had made it official I wanted nothing to do with him. Nothing at all. If I could have, I would have just stayed in Ivan's study, reading line after line of Gaelic text, familiarizing myself with the language. But see, it wasn't that easy. After my stunt at the field with the McLeod ambush three weeks ago, Kain was hardly allowing me out of his sight. He was determined to find out if I was a threat to myself and his people. I was determined to find out if he would keel over if I kicked him hard enough in the royal jewels.

If there was one constant thing in this place, it was that the only place I was safe was my room. He never dared to come in there, knowing that his Aunt Emma-my seemingly only girl friend in this whole damn castle-would question his presence and then shoo him away. I would thank her for it. Emma seemed to understand that I was nervous around him and seemingly downtrodden in this cage of a keep, so she made me a promise to take me to town at least three time before the Sabbath. I thanked her graciously every time.

My injuries on the other hand were the only things seeming to be getting better. The bruises from my former life had faded completely and my ribs weren't actually broken. However, there were still brown-ish yellow marks on my neck and chest, ones that Emma said wouldn't fade for a while. That was the only thing that kept me from screaming. Mostly because the near strangulation had damaged my vocal chords and I could barely speak until they were healed. When that would be, I didn't know.

I walked down the pathway to the gardens (this place had gardens!) alone, one of my arms crossed over my chest as I hugged myself, the other holding my violin and bow. My lips were forever pressed into a grimace ever since I couldn't speak. The weather had taken an unexpected turn over the last few days, bringing clouds, humidity, slightly cooler temperatures, and looming storms. The wind twisted and turned, pulling my hair every-which-way. The humid air made my curls frizz up, which in turn contributed to my increasing frustration. I couldn't speak, and now I couldn't even control my mane of hair. Could life get any worse?

Apparently, it could, and it was just about to hand me a bushel of lemons.

I walked deeper into the gardens, following the paths of brambles, exotic flowers I couldn't name, and beach roses. I found a little nook in the alcoves of the keep. Along the side of the cold stone walls, there were vines and creeping ivy. I, being the determined and stubborn child I always was, decided to climb. I held the neck of my violin in one hand, the bow in the other, and pulled myself up. It was easy enough: the vines were thick like rope and easy to hold on to. In less than three minutes I was in the alcove. It was slow going because I was holding my instrument, but it was a place to hide myself nonetheless.

I sat in the recess, tucking myself into the corner and hopefully out of view of anyone below. The sun peeked through the clouds for a brief moment and washed over my face. I breathed deep, a small smile coming to my lips as I did. From up here, I had a view of the gardens and the land that belonged to the Monroes. It was just past midday now and the brief moment of sunshine shone over the lands. The grasses shone a brighter, more vivid green. The trees swayed with the wind, the backs of their leaves showing. The fields of wildflowers glimmered in the dew that never left the earth. On the wind that pushed hair into my eyes, I could smell rain and a faint hint of the ocean. It smelled so beautiful, a perfect combination that calmed my nerves and my ever growing anger. I closed my eyes and basked in the sunlight while it lasted and listened to nature's songs that carried with the wind.

My skinny fingers plucked on the strings of my violin like it were a ukelele. I listened to the soft little tune I was playing as the sun faded back behind the clouds. The wind blew against me, chilly and smelling heavily of rain. And as if on cue, I felt a little drop on my face. My eyes opened and I stopped playing, reaching up and wiping the water off my cheek. Another hit my forehead, followed by another on my arm and a third on my collarbone. I looked up at the sky as the rain started to come down, slow and steady until my hair was sticking to my forehead. I glanced down at the ground. It was a ten to fifteen feet drop if I were to jump.