Forget Me Not, My Scottish Love by Allie Palomino

Chapter Thirty-Six

Cameron and his men arrived at Haynsworth’s at a time when the sun would’ve peaked, had the sun not hidden behind the storm clouds.  Cameron was furious. 

It had begun to rain. 

From one moment to the next, the sky darkened to the point of night, and the rain pelted the ground so harshly, it slowed their progress.  Lightning and thunder compounded on one another, making it one of the worst storms Cameron had ever experienced.

While the omen was lost on him, it wasn’t lost on his brothers.

The horses became jittery, neighing and bucking when the thunder crashed.  The archer’s arrows had become wet, making it impossible to light them.  The ground had become soaked, slowing their march to Haynsworth’s. 

Cameron’s face was a mask of death and rage.  He’d been anticipating this day for years, and had been obsessed with it for months.  So long the wait, and now this storm had to slow him.

They reached the holding and charged with their fury.  Immediately, his men began to engage the ground-patrol.  Rory’s information had indeed proved to be beneficial, for they had found those men in hidden areas.  More of Haynsworth’s men ran out, not having had the time to don their battle gear.  Cameron’s men slaughtered them, rushing forward mercilessly.  Haynsworth’s holding, they noticed, was extremely vulnerable.  The entrances were open to guests.  Though Cameron was indeed a “guest,” he was an unwanted one at that.

Cameron’s fury and rage was unleashed.  Soldier after soldier was killed as he made his way quickly into the holding.  The servants were in despair, running about to seek shelter from the angry, vengeful Scots.  Most of them crossed themselves when they saw Cameron’s face.  They murmured a prayer, swearing he was the devil.

Cameron had only one thought- to slay Haysnworth and rescue his wife- and nay in that order.

“Where is that bastard?” he asked, taking hold of a servant who tried to run past him but wasn’t quick enough to escape him.  “Where is my wife?”

“Sir?” she asked, her eyes wild.  “Please, spare my life.  I’ve a son!  Two summers, he is,” she pleaded, tears running down her plump face.  Her brown hair was a mane of bland-brown, with a braid running down her back.

“I’m not a despot, woman.  I doona kill innocent women and children like the bastard ye serve.  Where are they, damn it?” he asked impatiently.

“They?”

“My wife and Haynsworth!”

He saw something flash in her eyes.  “Yer wife is gone, sir.”

Cameron’s breath seized.  His nostrils flared.  “Speak the truth, woman!”

Her lips trembled.  Although the Scot had said he wouldn’t harm her, the look on his face had her wondering.

“He’s in the chapel, to the east of the holding, sir,” she said, and when he let go of her, she ran.

“Keith, Aidan,” Cameron bellowed and his brothers looked up briefly as they fought two men apiece with their swords.  “East to the chapel,” Cameron said, quickly turning to ward off an attack.

Aidan and Keith followed Cameron.  Other men joined as well, trying to keep Haynsworth’s men at bay while Cameron fought his way to the chapel.

“Ye canna enter there, Cameron.  Even in yer rage, ye know the sanctity of the church!” Keith said, staying Cameron back with a strong arm.  Cameron was in a frenzied state.  His face was a mask of rage and his eyes were wild and furious.  They were gray no more, but instead appeared to be a fathomless black that gave those who looked at him chills.

Cameron hastily scratched his long beard.  His eyes were hard and pensive. 

“Then I shall enter without my sword.”

“Nay,” both Keith and Aidan said in unison.

“They’ll murder ye!” Keith said.

Cameron laughed.  “Ye just said that we canna offend the sanctity the church, Keith,” Cameron said, derisively.  “He’ll not do a damn thing,” Cameron said, his chest heaving from exertion.  “With spectators,” Cameron shook his head, “He’ll do nothing.”

“He’ll have ye overpowered,” Aidan said, and continued to talk over Cameron’s burst of laughter, “and then kill ye.”

He looked at both of them, along with the other soldiers who’d fought behind Cameron.  Ignoring them, he ordered his men to surround the chapel.  No one was to leave.  Without another word, he opened the door to the chapel and stopped.

“God damn it!” he roared in fury.

The chapel was empty.

“He must have heard the commotion,” Keith said, aggravated.

Standing there, Cameron seemed to grow in physical proportion to his ferocity.

“Find him!” he roared.  “And leave him to me!”  He picked up his sword and stalked back to the castle, killing those in his path.

Cameron went room by room, trying to find Haynsworth.  Finishing downstairs he stalked upstairs with Aidan and Keith.  After thoroughly searching, Haynsworth was nowhere.

“Damn it!” Cameron said, punching the air.  “He will not run from me again.”

He led them downstairs again.  His men were killing the last of the English soldiers.  Haynsworth’s force had dwindled in number since the battle months ago.  Luckily for Cameron, the bastard hadn’t the time to call upon his allies for help.

Cameron cornered another skittering servant who ran past him in a hurry. 

“Where is my wife?”

“Who, sir?”

Cameron growled.  “Abigail.”

Trepidation entered the servant’s eyes.  “She’s gone, sir.”

“Gone where?”

The servant looked over his shoulder, calculating his chances of escape at his next words.

“Dead.”

Cameron’s grip tightened on him.  “You.  Lie.”

The servant was breathing so harshly, he was in jeopardy of collapsing. 

“Where is he?” Cameron asked.

The servant didn’t pretend not to know whom Cameron was asking about.  “There’s a secret passage, milord.  In the great room hangs a large tapestry, and behind is the hidden passage.”

Cameron let the servant go and prowled to the great room.  He snatched the large tapestry down and saw the door. 

“Coward,” Cameron roared before carefully entering the barely lit passageway.  Aidan, Keith, and his soldiers followed behind him.  It took minutes before Cameron reached the end.  Opening the door, he saw that the passage had ended just outside the stable.  He heard commotion inside and entered.

“Hurry up, Haynsworth!  We must leave.  I only pledged my men to yer cause if I wed her.  I cannot wed a dead woman.”

“Quiet, buffoon.  How was I to know what would happen this day?  How was I to know that damn Scots bastard was alive!” Haynsworth said, straining as he heaved himself on the horse and exited.  “I’ll kill him, like I did his father.”

“Then by all means, Haynsworth,” Cameron said calmly, as he spread his arms wide, his right hand gripping his broadsword, “have at me.”

The rain continued its assault and had soaked them all.  Cameron’s wet beard made him look spine-chilling.

Haynsworth visibly paled.  The barbarian had gained muscle and an evilness that far surpassed the devil’s.  He shuddered and not because of the cold rain.

“I thought you dead, bastard.”

“Ye thought wrong, to yer detriment.”

They had to shout over the storm.  Aidan and Keith stood watching.  They were there to make certain that Haynsworth was fair this time, unlike when he’d killed their father.  They itched to have at Haynsworth, too.

“I should have ordered her to give you poison instead,” Haynsworth spat.  “She had a damn weakness for you.  Jealous she was, but foolish I’d not taken her for,” Haynsworth gritted, dismounting.

Cameron’s gaze pierced Haynsworth.  “I suppose ye’re speaking of Gillyanne.”

Haynsworth found his first smile.  “Aye.  She contacted me after you forced her out.  It had been years since I’d heard from her.  She’d been quite helpful throughout the years, even when your father was alive.”

At Cameron’s widened eyes, Haynsworth smiled.

“Aye.  I can see you did not suspect her treachery.”  He laughed.  “That one had her sights set on seeing you as laird, and she alongside you.”  His laugh was hearty.  “Initially, she only provided information as to your father’s actions.  She hoped his enemy would send him to hell, and I did.  For her, the sooner he died, the sooner you would lead that group of mongrels you call a clan.”

Haynsworth quirked an eyebrow.  “We conspired a scheme to prevent my whorish daughter from conceiving your bastard.  Poison, she said, would prevent her from conceiving.  Gillyanne became overly zealous, nearly killing your damned wife.  I needed Abigail, though.  That daughter of mine was to beget me a large estate.”

Haynsworth had seen that his words had affected Cameron.  The Scot had fairly twitched with seething rage.  There, Haynsworth had found his solution to his present dilemma.  The more he spoke of his damned daughter, the more the Scot would lose focus and control.

“I was told about that fateful day of battle.  Do you recall?  Oh, perhaps you don’t.  You were on your back like a babe, watching that whore of my daughter get what she deserved, hmmm?”

Haynsworth laughed when he saw Cameron breath through his mouth.  Cameron snarled at Haynsworth, and though Haynsworth showed no outward reaction, he was quivering with fear inside.  The angry Scot looked at him with those dark eyes- so frightening they were, they could make time stop.

“I never liked Abigail much.  She was always a difficult child.  Always speaking her mind when women weren’t supposed to have one.  Fighting my decisions with every breath she had, even until a moment before her wedding to Elliot.  The whore still didn’t want to do right by me.  Then to face years of her broken mind and mute tongue!  Fragile of soul she was after her wedding to Elliot, so unlike the lioness she was before.  To tell you the truth,” Haynsworth said, smiling, “Those years weren’t so bad, because she was unable to speak. 

“She was a difficult daughter, though my men tell me that she wasn’t too difficult after the battle.  No,” Haynsworth said, with a shake of his head.  “You should have seen what my men did to her once they took her away.”  He saw a flicker in Cameron’s eyes, and continued with his barbs.

“I was told she would have moaned had the whore been awake to enjoy it.”  Haynsworth taunted, laughing at the veins twitching on Cameron’s neck.  “The beard…was that for her?” he taunted.

“Is that all Haynsworth?”

To any, Cameron’s stance looked casual, almost disinterested, but a closer look into his eyes showed pure fury.

“Nay.  Your father was a bastard as well.  He was so God damned dim-witted.  How could he think that I would give up an opportunity to kill him?  He was an easy kill, too.”

“If ye’re finished, Haynsworth,” Cameron shouted, his voice steel and icy.  “I would like to kill ye before tomorrow.”

Haynsworth laughed and charged at Cameron.  Haynsworth proved to be skillful at swordfight.  He parried and deflected a great many of Cameron’s blows.

“She deserved to burn you know,” Haynsworth said, breathless from exertion.  “Her burial cannot be completed on sacred ground.  She’d birthed the devil’s spawn.  My man should’ve run it,” he said the word as if it were blasphemy, “through with his sword.”

Cameron’s nostrils flared but ignored the taunts, and came at him with more strength.  Within minutes, Haynsworth lost his footing in the mud.  He was trying to return to get to his feet and was surprised that Cameron hadn’t pierced his chest with his sword.

“Are you nay going to take the advantage?” Haynsworth asked, horribly out of breath.

“I want no advantage when I kill ye.  A courtesy ye didna extend to my father, ye damn coward.”

Haynsworth stood and balanced himself despite being fatigued.  Cameron charged Haynsworth.  Haynsworth managed to deflect three consecutive blows, but failed to block the fourth.  Haynsworth looked down in surprise as Cameron’s sword cut through the side he’d inadvertently left open.  Haynsworth fell to his knees and then onto his back.  It was not a lethal blow, and that worried Haynsworth more than if it had been.

Cameron’s face appeared above his.  Haynsworth’s eyes met Cameron’s.

“At last, Haynsworth, ye will meet yer maker.  Say hello to the devil for me.  Mayhap I willna be so far behind ye.”

Haynsworth half-smiled.  “Your wife is there as I speak.”

Cameron slammed on his knees, and grabbed hold of Haynsworth’s shoulders.  Shaking him violently, he asked, “Where is she?”

He laughed.  ‘You’re too late!  She didn’t die that day.”

Cameron stopped breathing. 

He knew she hadn’t.

“The blow my man struck hadn’t killed her.  I intended to punish him for the failure before I realized it would be to my advantage. I could gain something in my favor.”

Cameron shook him savagely.  “Where.  Is.  My.  Wife!”

Haynsworth’s head hit the muddy ground underneath several times.  After his head stopped spinning, Haynsworth laughed and spat in Cameron’s face.  It did no good, for the rain washed it away.  Only Cameron’s form blocked out the onslaught of water from the sky.

“You’re…too…late!”  A series of coughs shook his body.  He ended the coughs with more laughter.  “She was…to marry…today.  But…this morning…she dove out…of her…window.”

At Cameron’s look of horror, Haynsworth erupted in laughter that could only be described as genuinely gleeful.  He was fairly basking in giving Cameron the news.

“Nay.”

Haynsworth coughed.  “Oh, no, aye.  Aye.  AYE!”  His throat convulsed into coughs.  “She’s dead.  DEAD!  And…I’ll…see…her……in…hell!”

Cameron’s veins bulged underneath his skin.  His face contorted into one of fury and rage.  His roar went on for several minutes.  It was soul-wrenching, communicating with it all of his anger and pain.

Cameron snapped.

His massive hands curled around Haynsworth’s throat.  Haynsworth’s eyes opened in surprise and his hands came up to Cameron’s wrists.  Haynsworth began thrashing and kicking, looking like a fish out of water.

“This is what I’ve been wanting for over a decade,” Cameron growled.  “The pleasure of yer neck in between my hands as I squeeze the life out of ye.”

Cameron released a bellow of a decade’s worth of frustration, anger, and rage as he squeezed his enemy’s neck.

“This is for my wife…and my…father!”

Haynsworth’s eyes bulged and slowly, he stopped fighting. 

Time seemed to slow even though the rain had not.  Cameron made sure to watch every second that the life was drained from his eyes.  Haynsworth’s life slowly left him.  Cameron sat back on his knees for a moment of reflection.

Ten years had been distilled into this moment.

And he wanted to savor every second of it.

Aidan and Keith cautiously approached him.  They, too, had felt the satisfaction at Haynsworth’s death.

“Cameron, our task is completed here.  Let us leave, Brother.”

The rain was beginning to slow.  Cameron showed no indication that he’d heard Keith.

“Cameron?”

Aidan tried to take Cameron out of his thoughts.  He and Keith looked at one another, uncertain how to proceed.  If Cameron had indeed snapped, it would take ten men to knock him out and carry him home.

“I want her body.  I willna leave without it.”

The urge to cover their ears was overwhelming.  Cameron’s tone was full of bitter rage and mournful sorrow.  Those few words and their tenor had the effect of crushing the souls of his brothers.

The rain halted just as Cameron stood. 

“Her mother,” Cameron added after a moment of silence.  “Search for Diane.  Offer her the freedom and choice my wife was never given.”

Cameron walked away.

“Where are ye going?”

“I need a moment,” he said without stopping.

It wasn’t too long after that that Cameron returned.  Where he was, they didn’t know.  He looked like death.  The life that had inhabited their brother’s body was no longer there.  His eyes were lifeless.  Even his walk was purposeless. 

Keith stepped forward.

“Trystan.”

Cameron looked at him.  “What about my son?”

Keith’s face was fierce.  “Ye doona slide into that place, Cameron.  Get yerself out of there.”

“What place?”

“The one where ye wish ye were dead because the love of yer life is gone.”  He grabbed hold of Cameron’s shoulders and shook him.  “We willna let ye give into the lure of living there.  Ye have a son, and one who needs ye.  Ye may not want to fight to live for yerself, but ye keep placing one foot before the other, and live for him.”

Cameron’s eyes finally met Keith’s.  They shared a long moment of understanding.  Keith gripped the back of Cameron’s neck and brought him close for an embrace.

“We will always be here to support ye, Brother.  Ye’re nay alone.”  He patted Cameron’s back as Cameron nodded.

“Keith?”

Keith turned.

“We were unable to find the lady’s mother.  Some servants indicated that she did not fare well after her daughter’s…” He stopped speaking at Keith’s shake of his head.

They shared a look and the man returned to the group.

“Let us go from here, Cameron.  Let us go home to our family and sons.”

“Her body, Keith.  I willna leave without it.”

Keith exhaled but he nodded his head.  He called over a small group and ordered them to search for her.

“Where are ye going?”

“To find my wife.”

Aidan and Keith shadowed Cameron.  They’d asked servants, some of who ran at seeing them approach. 

It was nearly morning before they called a halt.

“She isna here, Cameron.  None of the servants know where the body was taken.  God only knows what Haynsworth did with her.”

Cameron’s breathing grew heavy.  They had literally scoured the whole area, and were unable to unearth anything regarding the whereabouts of Abby’s corpse.

“I canna imagine how ye feel, and hope to never know, if I’m being honest.  I doona tell ye this lightly.  We must go.  We’ve done everything we could.”

Cameron folded his lips over his teeth.  He looked up at the sky.  The sun was rising over the carnage, almost as if it was purifying the land from the horrors that took place hours earlier.

“Aye.”

At once, they gathered their men.  Mounting on his warhorse, Cameron surveyed the standing structure of Haynsworth’s home and the frantic people running about.  He prayed that at last his father and wife had found the peace they so deserved.

They set out on their return journey home.