Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

W hen Minna opened her eyes her mind was a complete blank. She was staring into darkness broken only by the light of a small wood fire flickering a few feet away from her. She realized that she was lying on something coarse but yielding, which felt like a straw pallet, and was wrapped in a woolen blanket. A feeling of warmth and peace stole over her, and she smiled into the darkness.

Then she pushed the blanket away to yawn and stretch, wondering why her throat was sore and her breathing was so wheezy and labored. That was when she discovered that she was naked. She gave a strangled squeak, because she could not speak.

Then, all of a sudden, everything came rushing back - her imprisonment in the bedroom the night before, the argument with Jamie, and him pushing her into the loch. She remembered the feeling of her body hitting the water with a great slapping sound, the pain in her back from the impact, and the horrible sensation of the water closing over her head.

She felt herself flailing and thrashing around trying to reach the surface that was so tantalizingly close yet so far away. Then there was the sheer terror when she drew in a breath, only to inhale water instead of air, the burning in her lungs and the horror when she realized that she was about to die. The sense of desperation was almost unbearable.

Abruptly, Minna sat up and tried to scream, but nothing came out of her throat but a croak, and the resulting fiery pain brought tears to her eyes. She began to cough again, unable to stop, and the more she hacked, the worse the agony in her throat became. She needed air, but she could get none.

Suddenly a shape rose from the floor. In the near-blackness it looked like a dark, sinister shadow, and terror, pure and hot, scorched through her. Minna's first instinct was to scream in fright, but she could only make a feeble croak, and she instinctively scrambled backwards on her elbows.

She was so desperate to escape that she did not realize that she had pulled the blanket off and was wearing only a sheer, almost transparent undergarment. It was the camisole she wore under her shirt. She tried to get to her feet, but a heavy hand came down on her shoulder, forcing her downwards.

She stilled, and realized that she was entirely at the mercy of whoever was keeping her in this strange place, and she knew that it would be futile to fight. Whatever it was, it was much stronger than she was. Then she remembered all of a sudden that she was almost unclothed and bared to the creature's eyes. This must be the demon from the woods, she thought. What was it going to do to her?

Minna reached for the blanket that had been covering her, having felt that it was down by her waist, but was astonished to find that the blanket had been pulled up and draped over her. Then hastily, she dragged it up to her chin.

"Wh-who are you?" she asked fearfully. Her voice was so hoarse it came out as a feeble whisper, even as tears of terror sprang to her eyes. "Are you the devil?"

The shape chuckled, a deep sonorous sound like a bass drum, but softer. "You don't need to know that," it replied. "You are in my house now and I ask the questions. Understand?" The voice was deep, gravelly and unmistakably male, but it did not sound at all like what Minna had expected the devil to sound like.

She had always expected the devil to hiss, and the devil would definitely not help her to cover herself! If anything, he would strip her naked and leer at her. Minna nodded frantically then realized she could not be seen. "Yes," she croaked, beginning another bout of coughing that caused her eyes to stream.

The creature moved away from her and she heard the sound of a door being unlocked. A moment later it opened a crack and a tiny sliver of daylight crept in, enough to briefly illuminate a tall, hooded figure. His face could not be seen at all, and resembled nothing more than a dark hole in his head. Minna shivered and looked around herself curiously.

She was in a small cottage with a thatched roof and a fireplace at one end. The only furniture was one chair, which was obviously homemade, since it looked as though the wood had just been hacked from the tree. There was a similarly constructed table, and a roughly made sleeping mat. The floor was covered in fir leaves. A stack of wooden cooking instruments and plates sat in one corner, and next to it was a pile of firewood. The cottages of the villagers were in much better shape than this one, she reasoned. Who was this strange man who chose to live like this?

Did the devil eat or drink? It looked as if this creature did. Or did he feed on the souls of human beings? She was trembling with fear as these thoughts passed through her mind, even though she had always thought such notions were fanciful before. Then she began to question that belief. Surely if so many folk believed in the devil then he must be real? She thrust the thought away, telling herself how foolish she was. If she was in the hands of the devil it was pointless to worry about it. There was nothing she could do.

Minna lay down on the floor again, then the creature moved away to the cold fireplace, where he had hung a few clothes from a rope, and Minna recognised her own breeches and shirt among them.

He collected some water from a bucket on the floor using a large clay bowl.

The man took the clothes and tossed them over to her, then he went to the door. "Wash yourself," he ordered, before going outside. "I will be back soon."

Minna hastily did as she was told. The feel of the cold water on her skin brought back visions of being back in the loch, but she put them out of her mind and concentrated on cleaning herself. She dried herself with the coarse scrap of linen he had given her, then scrambled into her clothes, which were still slightly damp, before the man came back.

She was quite convinced now that he was not the devil, but he was still big and threatening. Even if he was an ordinary man, he was a threat, since he could likely overpower her with only one hand.

Just as Minna tightened the belt around her waist, the man came in again carrying two freshly caught fish. Minna's mouth watered. How long had it been since she had eaten? She watched while he threaded the fish onto a spit and roasted them over the fire before heating some mushrooms in a shallow pan with lard. When he produced bread and ale she wondered where he got all his supplies from. Dundee was too far away, and she thought that Mulrigg might be too risky. His reputation could have spread as far as that.

She had no more time to wonder, though, as he handed her the simple meal, before dishing up his own. "Thank you," Minna said politely.

Gowan woke up when he heard the woman's hoarse moan and heard her scrambling away from him. He knelt and put a hand out to restrain her before she hit the wall, and discovered that her shoulder was uncovered. She must have shrugged off the blanket while she was clawing her way backwards, so he pushed it upward so that she could draw it over herself, hoping that he had not touched her inappropriately.

When he had done this, Gowan opened the door, and a pair of terrified eyes looked up at him. He stared back, secure in the knowledge that his hood was hiding his face, and realized that he had never before had a woman in his little home before. He had done everything he could to keep people away from it, so it had been a very long time since he had had the urges of his body satisfied.

If he had to choose a woman to grace his little hovel, however, it would be a woman like this, but as he looked around it, he saw it from her point of view. It was small, mean and dirty, and a lady of her quality should not have been sitting in it. Still, it was better than lying drowned at the bottom of a lake, he reminded himself.

When he had given her the food, he sat down beside her and began to eat too. They sat together in a tense silence, the only sound being the sound of Minna's chewing. She was eating from a small bowl, but Gowan had only a piece of tree bark as a plate, and he ate with his fingers, and not a spoon. Perhaps these rough utensils were all he had, Minna thought, since everything looked homemade. He was obviously very poor. Yet he had saved her life and was sharing what little he had with her. He was not a devil, but an angel, she decided and suddenly she felt safe.

Then Minna's eyes drifted to the sword hanging on the wall above the sleeping mat where the man had rested. It was an old sword, and the silver basket hilt of the sword was tarnished, but there was a clan crest on it, one which looked vaguely familiar, although Minna could not quite place it. Was he a warrior?

She finished her meal and licked her lips and smiled. "Thank you," she said, smiling. "That was very good. Fresh food is always the best."

There was a smile in Gowan's voice as he answered. "My pleasure," he said.

Minna could still not see his features but she could discern the glint of his eyes under the hood, and presently a lock of bright blond hair strayed from underneath it. Gowan hastily pushed it back, but Minna had seen that he was fair, and this was evidenced by the pale, freckled tone of the skin on his hands. She deduced, therefore, that his eyes must be gray or green, or perhaps blue like her own.

Yes, now she was painting a picture of him in her mind. With his height and big build she judged that he must look like one of the Norsemen she had heard of in old stories. A longing came over Minna to pull away the hood and examine every feature of this mysterious hermit's face, but she had a feeling that if she tried it would not take much of an effort on his part to stop her.

"How are you feeling?" Gowan asked suddenly, and Minna was surprised to hear concern in his voice.

"Much better thanks to your care," she replied with a grateful smile. "I am very grateful to you. If not for you I would be lying at the bottom of the loch by now, and I am forever in your debt."

"You said that already!" He laughed, then shrugged. "Anyone would have done what I did. It was no more than my duty." He felt his heart beginning to beat faster as he gazed at her. God, she was beautiful!

"I doubt that," Minna replied, an edge of bitterness in her voice. "Many people would not care."

"Who was the man who pushed you in?" Gowan asked, curious.

"He is my brother," she answered. "And although he is my blood kin, I loathe him with all my heart."

He was silent for a moment. "You loathe him?" he asked. "That is a very strong word. But I think I would feel the same way if someone tried to kill me - was his action deliberate?"

Minna shrugged. "I don't like to think so - perhaps just careless," she replied, miserably, sighing. "You probably know the story of the conquest of this castle. My father and his army came and took it by force ten years ago, and my father ruled it with a rod of iron for the first two years. He killed the Hepburns who were here before and was very, very pleased with himself."

Gowan felt a jet of pure, scalding rage shoot through him, but he restrained himself from reacting. He screwed his face up and clamped his lips together, then counted to ten. He reminded himself that this woman was a pawn in a very cynical game of chess, just as he had been.

"Then he died," she went on. "They said it was a heart attack, but I think he was poisoned."

"What makes you think so?" Gowan asked, feeling a sense of unholy triumph. James Darroch deserved everything he got and more.

"Because he was a mean, callous brute, and so many of his soldiers hated him." Her tone was bitter in the extreme. "So did Jamie and I. We both suffered at his hands, perhaps Jamie more than I, because he was a boy and Da wanted him to be tough. Apparently the way to toughen him up was to beat him.

I did not suffer quite so much in a physical way, as my father did not see any point in toughening up a girl. Also, I had Lorna to protect me - for some reason my father was always a little intimidated by her." She paused, collecting herself. "I was only eleven when we came here. My father had wanted to marry me off to the young Laird Hepburn, but he and his mother had disappeared by the time I arrived here. You can see what my father did to this estate, and now my brother is doing exactly the same thing. I do my best to help the people in the village to survive, but it is not enough - it will never be enough."

"But you are doing your best," Gowan said softly. "I am sure they are grateful."

"My best is not good enough!" Minna growled, then choked again.

Gowan fetched some water for her and she drank thirstily. "You should rest," he advised. "Sleep for a little longer. No-one will disturb you."

Minna nodded, then she took a long look at him. "Why do you not let me see your face?" she asked.

Gowan completely ignored the question. "You will be safe here," he assured her. "I will protect you."

"Thank you!" Minna was amazed. "Why are you doing so much for me?"

The man hesitated for a moment. "Because I hate men who bully and abuse women," he replied grimly. "They are beneath contempt. I had to watch a woman who was very dear to me being taken away to die when I was younger, and I have nightmares about it to this day." His voice was throbbing with anger.

"I am very sorry," she said softly. "Was - was it your mother?"

Again, he did not acknowledge the question. He stood up, picked up her plate and his makeshift one, then stacked them together.

"I need to find us some more to eat," he told her. "Bolt the door for your own protection. I can't keep you here against your will, but I would advise you to stay inside with me, at least for the moment for your own safety. Your brother might come back. There are candles by the fireplace."

"Thank you for everything you have done - are doing for me." Minna said gratefully. Then she blushed and said: "When - when I woke up I was almost naked. Did you undress me?"

"I had to," he replied, a note of apology in his voice. "Your clothes were soaking wet, and you would have been cold and very uncomfortable if I had not. I left your camisole and did not look at you for longer than I had to. I did not touch you in any way -"

Minna held a hand up to silence him. "Thank you," she said gently. "I believe you. What is a little loss of modesty compared to my life?"

Gowan nodded and slipped out silently.