Page 26 of A Flawed Scotsman
Deciding to ride to the village on Fraser lands, Ruari urged his horse forward. The beast had seemed less temperamental that day. In a way, it was a bit alarming being the animal did not enjoy the saddle or being ridden.
Deciding not to worry overmuch, Ruari allowed the horse to set the pace. When crossing the field and into a small portion of wooded area, something caught Ruari’s attention. Broken green branches signaled that someone had ridden past recently.
Normally, it would not worry him to be on the same path as someone else. But being that he’d been warned that the Mackenzies often trespassed, he ensured to keep on guard.
The unmistakable sound of movement made his steed jerk, its ears moving toward the noise.
Ruari drew his sword.
“Do not move,” a voice from atop a tree called out and he looked up. On tree branches over him were four archers with arrows pointed at him.
Horsemen appeared from behind the trees and he recognized the colors of their plaids.
Just a few moments later, Ruari fell from the horse and onto the ground. Someone had thrown a rope around him and yanked him off the horse.
He struggled to pull free, but the rope held his arms tight against his sides. Before he could do more than kick, they dragged him backward to the bushes.
Ruari caught sight of the men on the ground. There were three of them. The men on horseback joined them as he fought the trio who tried to bind his hands.
“Whoever ordered this will pay,” Ruari gritted out and then let out an “ooof” as someone kicked him in the stomach.
At the painful strike to his head, he fought not to lose consciousness. Ruari grunted and kicked at one man so hard that the aggressor stumbled backward and fell to the ground. Taking advantage of the momentum, he struggled to stand, but the other men were able to shove him back to the ground.
Finally, they managed to tie his hands and legs and blindfold him.
“Let me go at once,” Ruari hissed, annoyed at the situation. Obviously, they did not mean to kill him, else they’d not bother with the blindfold.
“Bring the wagon,” a man said, barely able to speak. He was too winded from the struggle.
Moments later, despite his struggles, Ruari was loaded onto a wagon.
“What about his mount?” someone said. “It acts as if it’s wild. I cannot get it.”
“Leave it then.”
*
It was a long time later, perhaps an entire day’s length, that he was pulled from the back of the wagon and half-dragged into a building. Upon being placed in a chair and the blindfold removed, Ruari glared at the Mackenzie.
The man sat in his study, a tankard next to his right hand.
“I apologize for the manner in which ye were brought here. I did not expect them to mistreat ye. But when laymen do the work of warriors, one cannot know what will happen.”
“Ye could have sent a messenger. I would have come willingly,” Ruari replied through clenched teeth. His head throbbed and throat was dry from a dirty cloth being shoved into his mouth.
The man’s shrewd gaze met his. “I could have, I suppose.” He looked to a guard and motioned to Ruari impatiently. “What are ye waiting for? Untie his hands and legs. Ruari Ross is not our prisoner.”
A servant neared and held out a tankard. The woman’s hand shook as she took in his bruised face. “Tis ale,” she said in a soft voice.
Furious but at the same time needing to know what the imbecile would say, Ruari shook his head and glared at Laird Mackenzie. “What do ye wish to speak about? Surely ye do not wish to gain the ire of my cousin. Although I am sure ye could have me killed and none would be the wiser. However, ye would be the first he comes to for answers.”
The Mackenzie didn’t seem fazed. “Yer cousin is tired of battles.”
What the comment was meant to do, perhaps scare him, Ruari wasn’t sure. All it did was annoy him more. “Speak. My head hurts and I must find my mount.”
Clearly the Mackenzie was not pleased at his lack of appropriate reaction because his nostrils flared. “Drink the damned ale. I know ye must thirst.”
The Mackenzie lifted a tankard and took a long draw.
