Anise

Cameron hated not being able to sleep, for the last few nights she tossed and turned in her bed until she finally got up and moved to Drustan's. It seemed that one night had ruined her for sleeping alone ever again,

She pulled herself out of the bed and wrapped herself in the extra plaid Drustan had left behind before leaving her room and heading down the hall to Drustan's. She still only tried to sleep in her bed because she was afraid that if Drustan decided not to take her back after her tantrum she didn't want to be use to sleeping in a bed that smelt of him.

The keep was quiet and quiet cold on a night like this, it had rained all day and had stopped only a few hours before and fires had only been lite in the rooms that were being occupied. So the stone floor was slowly freezing her feet.

She opened the door to Drustan's room and quickly closed it behind her before going to the hearth and standing in front of it. The fire was still burning and she sighed in contentment as she pulled the tartan from around herself and warmed up.

Cameron had only been standing there for a few moments when the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, she was beginning to turn around when a hand covered her mouth and a large body pushed herself face first into the wall. Her heart pounded in her chest so hard she thought it was going to burst out as she struggled against the hold the person had on her.

The pressure against her didn't stop until she bit down on the hand covering her mouth hard enough to break the skin and she kicked her leg back and make contact with some part of his body. Then person yanked their hand away and shoved her to the ground, her hands and knees scrapped against the stones.

She looked up from where she'd fallen to see and older man, in his mid-fifties, shaking the one she had bitten. "Ya stupid whore," he cursed.

Cameron quickly stood on backed herself towards Drustan's trunk, keeping her eye on him as he watched her, not making a move to aggress on her. "Who are you? And how did you get in here?" She asked feeling she already knew the answer to her first question. She bent just enough to lift the lid on the trunk and grabbed one of Drustan's dirks out, tossing the sheath to the ground as she pointed it at him.

The man laughed, "Lassies are nay supposed ta play wit' knives."

"Brody! Ramsey!" She called for the Campbell guards, hoping that they'd hear her.

"They will nae hear ya, lass. Did ya really think I would come alone and risk that the MacLean would leave ya protected?"

"Shut the fuck up and tell me who the hell you are and how you got in the keep," She yelled at him.

"Tis I, Douglas MacDonald, or do ya nay remember the man who killed ya the first time, witch." He spat the last word, an angry glow coming to his eyes. Or was it the light from the fire? "Ya would also think the MacLean would know of the tunnel that leads inta his own root cellar."

Cameron's stomach flopped as nausea overcame her, fearing what would happen to her but she did little more than glare at him as say, "I'm not Anise."

"Lies coming out of yer mouth," He growled, "but tis of no worra ta me. Yer the MacLean's whore none the less and I will finish ya like I did the last."

Douglas MacDonald came towards her then and she slashed at him with the dirk, it barely grazed his arm but stopped him where he stood. "Don't come any closer or I'll slice you open." She knew her threat was empty, he could easily over power her but she hoped that he was stupider than he looked.

He laughed again, a cold laugh as his eyes locked on her. "A wee lass like yerself cannae hurt me."

She gulped, pushing herself farther against the wall her dirk still pointed at him, "Then I'll curse you," Maybe he really did believe she was a witch? "I'll put a curse on you so bad your family will suffer for generations. Or maybe there won't be generations..." she trailed off, pinning him with a serious stare and though for a moment of things men in their century cared about, "I'll make you so ugly no woman will have you." Sex was important to men in every century. "And you won't be able to have children." They needed sons to carry on the name, so those were important.

"Doesnae matter ta me, I have plenty o' sons. An' who needs a woman ta want me when I can take what I want?" He asked, stepping closer to her as he drew his own dirk. "Now, make this easy on me, lass."

It was then that he lunged at her but she had been anticipating his first attack and she jumped to the side and on the bed, rolling off as quickly as she could so she could put that between them. Though, now she was farther from the door.

"Ya can run, Lass but yer nay leavin' this room alive."

"Why are you doing this?" She asked, her voice cracking as tears welled up. He was right, she wasn't going to leave alive, because her call for help had gone unheard meaning her only two guards were probably dead.

The MacDonald started to slowly make his was around the bed as he said, "They are a cocky bunch. All o' them flauntin' their wealth like they are kings, like they are better than me! Flauntin' their women like yer all more than the whores ya are. Ha! One would think yer Laird would o' learned his place at ma feet beggin' fer his life."

"You're fucking crazy!" She yelled at him, raising the dirk higher as he got closer. "You're killing people because of jealousy." It was then she decided there would be no more running, she would either kill him herself or he would kill her.

"Are ya 'fraid, lass?" He asked as he drew even closer, he was now close enough to be in lunging distance with the dirk. She didn't wait to strike; not when that cocky, sadistic grin was plastered on his aging face. Thrusting forward she swiped at him with the dirk, in an instant his face went from amused to anger as he moved to the side, her knife missing her mark of ripping his abdomen open and slicing into his side inside. He roared in anger as his knife thrust upward and sank in right below her breasts.

The pain was indescribable, as she gasped and pushed herself off the knife, falling to her knees at the MacDonald's feet. He then kicked her hard, the blow connecting with her back and she cried out, rolling to her side and curling up into a ball as he continued to kick her.

Cameron wasn't sure how long the assault took but as she was fading into unconsciousness she was aware of him stopping and muttering, "Stupid MacLean whore."

- x-x-x-x-x-

Murray and the men had encountered the Campbell men half way back to the keep. They stopped only for moments, to learn that Cameron had only kept two guards at the keep instead of Drustan's ten. He ordered all the Campbell men to follow him back to the keep.

They all rode their horses almost to death, not stopping or slowing down. They had just ridden through the town when one of his men stopped and yelled, "Ova there! Riders!" He pointed to several horses riding north, away from the keep.

"Go afta them. Spare no mercy if they are MacDonald." Murray shouted as he took off towards the keep. Praying that the riders were not MacDonalds and everything was well in the keep but a pit of dread was brewing in his belly that was telling him otherwise.

It didn't take him to much longer to reach the keep, he dismounted before the horse was fully stopped and ran towards the doors. Seeing nothing wrong in the slightest as he entered, the keep was quiet as he wandered towards the stairs only to see a man laying at the foot of them, his throat slit and his eyes open to stare into oblivion.

Murray cursed and took the stares two at a time, he came to the top floor to see a second man face down in front of the garter robe door, no doubt dead as well. He ran down the corridor and didn't bother knocking on the slightly ajar bedchamber door before he threw it open.

His eyes fell on to Cameron's body, curled up on her side farthest away from the door, blood pooling underneath her with a dirk at the floor near her body and Drustan tartan laying near the floor by the hearth.

Without thinking he rushed to her, dropping to his knees in her blood, "Cammie girl," he said to her, pushing her hair out of her face. "Cammie girl, ya mus' wake up."

Her body curled into a tighter ball and she coughed, blood coming out of her mouth. "Tell Drustan..." she whispered weakly. "Let him know... this isn't his fault. There's a tunnel... in the root cellar. That's how they got in..."

When her breathing became even more labored Murray lifted the girl's chest into his lap so she was looking right up at him, her head resting on his arm.

"Ya will tell him yerself, lass," he told her gently as he went to press his hands to her chest but Cameron shook her head and pushed his hands away weakly.

"You can't stop this Murray." She coughed again and winced. "He's... he's gonna blame himself. Don't let him... Please. I didn't listen to him. I only made two of the Campbell men stay." She pinned him with the most serious look a dying person had even given him before saying again, "He's gonna blame himself. You have to stop him. Tell him I him I didn't mean it and I'm sorry."

When her eyes began to flutter he gave her a shake, "Jus' stay a bit longer, Cammie girl. He was righ' behind us when we rode out. Should nay be much longer."

Cameron shook her head and her eyes closed before she whispered, "Tell him... I love him."

Seconds passed as Murray looked down into the face of his Laird's woman – the wee hellcat the whole keep had grown to love just as their Laird had – her skin pale, her body covered in forming bruises and blood staining that once white nightdress she wore.

Murray sat there holding her, thinking that if he'd just ridden a bit faster he would have been able to save her and spared his Laird's heart. He was about to lay Cameron back down onto the ground when the fire in the hearth suddenly went out and a mysterious wind entered the room, swirling around the two of them. Despite the winds, he laid Cameron's body back onto the ground gently and stood quickly, ready to fight off whatever was causing these winds when suddenly just stopped, dying down in less than a second.

His eyes swept across the room before looking down to Cameron and seeing nothing. She was no longer in a pool of her own blood or even in the room anymore. If he was any weaker of body or mind he would have fainted from the knowledge that a dead body had just vanished