by Alisa Adams
“It looks as if he is too concerned with the prisoner to give any commands,” Adaira remarked dryly.
“I fear ye are right,” said Hamish. “Ah, but see! Good sense has won in the end. Yer brother has stopped wavin’ his sword at Rodric.”
It was true. Duncan made an expression of disgust, indicating with a gesture that Rodric should be moved back under guard. Rodric dismounted from his horse. His hands were tied tightly behind his back, and a group of pike-armed foot soldiers began to lead him away up the hill carefully. He might be bound, but Rodric Montrose could still make an awful lot of trouble!
Duncan, looking over the battlefield, quickly came to the conclusion that there was little more they could do. The remains of the attacking force were long gone. Injuries were low on both sides, there were no deaths, and the leader of the attackers was the only prisoner who had been taken.
“All in all, not a very satisfactory encounter, I suppose,” said Adaira. Her voice was a bit shaky, and her attempt at levity fell rather flat.
“Oh, I dinnae know aboot that,” said Hamish, jovially. “See, they're bringin’ the prisoner up this way. Rodric Montrose himself, the heir tae his clan! He is a valuable prize! Is he no’ a fine-looking warrior?”
Adaira saw that Duncan and most of his bodyguards had abandoned their command post and were now accompanying their valuable prisoner up the hill towards where the women stood with Hamish, looking out over the glen. They were all on foot now, and it took them longer to approach than it had before, which gave Adaira time to examine the prisoner as they approached. He was a big man, but not bulky the way some men are. His frame was in proportion to his broad chest and long limbs. Despite having his arms tied behind his back, and even his ankles now linked together with a foot of heavy chain, he managed to retain a certain upright dignity of bearing. Long, reddish-brown hair fell across his back and shoulders. He was clean-shaven, and his bright, alert eyes were fiercely blue as they stared from his chiseled, handsome face.
“He is certainly a fine-looking man,” Maudie whispered to Adaira. “How different he looks fae Duncan.”
Adaira could not deny it. Her brother strutted beside Rodric. His sword was in his hand, and he gestured carelessly with it as he spoke to the men around him. The foot soldiers laughed and nodded at his jokes even though none of them were remotely funny. Even some of the older, more experienced men of Duncan’s bodyguard smiled wryly at the young man's enthusiasm. But John MacCormick stood close to his prisoner, and his face was as expressionless as a slab of granite.
The party reached the place where the two women were standing, and Duncan drew them to a halt there.
“Well, Sister,” he crowed. “What did ye think of that?”
Adaira bowed her head and replied, “Your army certainly made quick work of the enemy, Brother.”
“Aye, that we did! And do ye see my prisoner, the prisoner I have taken?” It was an odd way to put it, and the thought flashed across Adaira’s mind that he would not have felt the need to repeat the phrase if he had, indeed, taken the prisoner. He had not, of course. That had been the work of John MacCormick, and everybody there knew it. She flicked a glance up at MacCormick’s face. Though it remained as inscrutable as ever, she thought that she might have picked up just the faintest hint of a sneer around the black-bearded mouth.
“It would be hard to miss him,” Adaira said, straight-faced, looking up at the Highlander. She saw now that his plaid had come undone in the course of the battle. It hung away from his body slightly, exposing a great expanse of bared, muscular chest with a faint dusting of auburn hair on it. The sight made Adaira feel strange in a way she did not quite recognize. It was not a pleasant or unpleasant feeling, just strange and new.
Maudie was right, of course. Standing next to Duncan, Rodric was shown to be a very different kind of man. Though they were probably of a roughly similar age, Duncan was awkward and thin, whereas Rodric was tall and well-built, and there was a deeper difference, too, beyond the physical. Duncan radiated a boy’s pride and excitement, waving his sword around as he boasted to his sister and the men around him. He still had a childish mind that needed constant gratification.
Rodric radiated a fiercely restrained, disciplined fury. As Adaira watched the prisoner, his eyes slowly dropped to find hers. They locked, and Rodric's eyes seemed to burn into her soul.
The other sounds, the whicker of the horses, the chatter of her brother and his men, and even the moaning of the wind faded away from Adaira’s hearing. She was only aware of Rodric, and as she gazed into their blue depths, she saw the dark pupils dilate. He made no sound, but his brows lowered in a dark frown.
Their shared look lasted only a moment, but that was a moment too long for Sir John MacCormick. The spell was broken when he shoved Rodric firmly with one gauntleted fist.
“Insolent swine!” MacCormick growled, as Rodric swayed from the blow and then found his balance again. “That is the laird’s daughter you are staring at! Keep your eyes to yourself if you want to keep them!”
Rodric dropped his gaze. MacCormick’s ugly face twisted into a smile, and he was looking right at Adaira. He seemed about to speak, but Duncan interrupted him, somewhat hastily as it seemed to Adaira. What had MacCormick been about to say that Duncan did not want to be said?
“Enough of this,” said the young man briskly, dropping his boastful tone. “Pack everything up. I want the prisoner back to the castle without delay.”
“Sir,” was all MacCormick said. He yanked Rodric’s bound hands to get him moving, and led him off under heavy guard, without even a glance back at Adaira. She watched him as he was dragged away, feeling extremely sorry for him. He had no dignity left.
“Can we go home now?” asked Maudie, pitifully. She was shivering in the cold. Even as she spoke, a fine steady rain began to fall. Adaira looked at Hamish, and the old captain nodded, taking off his cloak and throwing it around her.
“Aye,” he said. “It's time we were getting back tae the castle.”
It was getting dark when Adaira and Maudie, accompanied by Hamish and the mounted men under his command, crested the last ridge and looked down through the gloom at the imposing bulk of Castle Dunn, the ancestral seat of the lords of Clan Strachan. They had ridden separately from the rest of the force.
Duncan and MacCormick had gone ahead quickly, riding hard to get the prisoner back to safety. The majority of the Strachan soldiers had remained near the battlefield, under the command of two of Duncan’s senior lieutenants. Duncan had feared that the Montroses would immediately set out in pursuit, seeking to free their captured leader, but no such pursuit had materialized.
“We will get Rodric Montrose back to the castle and safely under lock and key,” Adaira had overheard Duncan saying to MacCormick as they got ready to leave. “Then we’ll come straight back, gather up our men, and make a push into the Montrose lands. That was a pitiful force they sent against us. If that is the extent of their strength, then they are weaker than we thought they were. We must seize the opportunity to strike a hard blow against them.”
Then he turned to Adaira. “Mount up and get ready to ride, Sister,” he had said. “We’ll feast tonight in celebration of the victory here, and I will want you there. I have an announcement to make, which I don't want you to miss.” His mouth had twisted into a cruel smile when he said it, and Adaira felt a deep sense of unease at his words.
A feeling of heavy foreboding settled on her then, and it did not leave her during the whole tedious ride back through the rain to the castle. Now, as they began to make their winding way, it settled like a lead weight in the pit of her stomach.
“Are ye well, mistress?” asked Maudie gently. They had slowed as they approached the great guarded drawbridge, and now they waited as one of the bodyguards rode forward to speak to the guard on the gate. The ruddy light of sputtering torches lit the entranceway and the heavy wooden drawbridge and glinted on the spears and the helmets of the fur-clad guardsmen, well
wrapped against the oncoming night’s chill.
“I just keep thinking of what Duncan said as we were leaving. He said he had some great announcements to make, and he wanted me there. I fear...” She shook her head in agitation. “I don't know what I fear.”
“I dae,” said Maudie quietly. “Ye fear a betrothal.”
Adaira nodded reluctantly. “You are right, of course,” she sighed. “I fear that he will have me betrothed to one of his nobles and I fear… Oh, Maudie, I fear I know which one it shall be.”
3
The Betrothal
“Are you not eating, Sister?” asked Duncan, sounding concerned. Adaira knew better. This was all an act for the benefit of the guests to show how well he protected his sister. In fact, he cared nothing for her and she despised him.
They had been sitting eating for what seemed like a week, Duncan and Adaira with John MacCormick and various other nobles up at the high table, and all the other castle folk sitting below them. It was a great banquet to celebrate the victory in the glen and the capture of Rodric. Duncan’s father, too ill to attend the gathering, was conspicuously absent. Adaira wished she were too.
Maudie sat next to Adaira, happy to be ignored by the nobles. Musicians on the dais near the fire played a merry tune, and the low murmur of pleasant talk filled the big chamber.
The great hall was bright with the light of torches, candles, and the huge wood fire that crackled and roared in the yawning fireplace at the far end of the space. Seated on benches at long wooden tables, the great majority of the castle’s folk, both common and noble, made the most of the generous feast.
The smell of beer and roasting meat tantalized the appetites of the gathered folk, but Duncan was right. Adaira was not hungry; she was terrified, and her stomach was churning with anxiety and dread. Her worst fears were about to be realized.
Duncan was drinking heavily and talking expansively. MacCormick was chewing roast venison thoughtfully, his dark eyes lingering on Adaira when at last Duncan decided to make his announcement. He stood and clapped his hands for silence, then began to declaim to the gathered folk in the hall. All eyes were on him.
“I have decided,” he said in a loud, carrying voice, “that for the good of a clan, my dear sister here should marry.”
His eyes swept the assembly, and he smiled, relishing the suspense, and puffed up with his own importance.
“I have discussed this at length with my father and taken advice from my nobles,” he announced, looking around him to make sure that everyone was listening. “After due consideration, I have decided that it is only right to extend this closest bond of kin loyalty by offering my sister’s hand to a trusty companion, a dear friend, and a loyal brother in arms—Sir John MacCormick!”
The world seemed to swim around Adaira and she felt sick. John MacCormick was the last man on Earth she wanted to marry; indeed, she could hardly bear to be in the same room as him. Adaira felt Maudie’s steadying hand on her arm as MacCormick stood to receive the polite applause of the assembled crowd. Adaira knew she should look pleased, so she got to her feet and made her lips twitch up at the corners, but that was the best she could do.
MacCormick came to stand by her side, but Adaira ignored him. The assembled company stood and toasted the happy couple with a great chorus of: “Sláinte Mhath!”
Then Adaira curtsied to her prospective bridegroom, not meeting his eyes as she did so, and excused herself. “I am sorry,” she announced to the guests, “but all the excitement has given me a bad headache, and I must retire. Thank you all for coming.” Then she fled.
John MacCormick’s dark gaze followed her. Adaira had embarrassed him, and he was not happy—not happy at all.
Later, in their apartment, Adaira sat on her bed and wept with Maudie’s arm around her.
“Oh, Maudie, I always hoped for a good husband,” she said through her tears. “You know that I always have. When my father was well, he promised me that he would be able to see to it that I would marry a man whom I liked, not just a man who would bring a political advantage. But now my brother has signed my life away to that brute MacCormick, and the only reason is that MacCormick can command many men from his own lands! What a horrible time to live in, when a brother can do such a thing to his sister on a whim!”
Maudie held her like a baby, shushing her gently. She was furious and decided that when Adaira was feeling better, they would find a way out of her predicament. Marriage to MacCormick was unthinkable.
It took Adaira a long time to get to sleep that night, and when she did, she tossed and turned, pursued by half-formed, unpleasant dreams.
Early the next morning, they were awoken by the sound of trumpets and shouting in the castle courtyard, far below their window. Adaira, eager to see what was happening, clambered out of bed and walked over to pull the shutters open and lean out. The weather had improved, though it was still not warm. Bright sunlight illuminated the gathering in the courtyard below.
Her brother was there with Sir John, and they were accompanied by heavily-armed soldiers mounted on giant warhorses.
All of yesterday's events came flooding back to Adaira’s mind, and she realized that Duncan and Sir John were setting out with all that remained of the soldiery of Castle Dunn. They would link up with MacCormick’s army and set out to strike into the Montrose lands, capitalizing on yesterday's victory. Adaira wondered if MacCormick would bring soldiers to the cause now that he had been promised her hand in marriage.
Maudie spoke at her side, and Adaira flinched. She had not heard her maid approach. “It’s a gamble,” Maudie said quietly.
“What do you mean?” asked Adaira.
“I mean,” she said, “that he takes nearly every soldier fae the castle wi’ him. Only a wee garrison is left here. If a’ goes according tae plan, well, that shouldnae be a problem for him. But if things dinnae go his way, and if the enemy was tae attack the castle here while he was far fae home, few would be left here tae defend it.”
“Perhaps Sir John will send for men of his own command to come and garrison the castle? Everyone knows that he commands a large number of his own soldiers. Securing those men is the only reason Duncan wishes me to marry Sir John.”
“I fear ye are right, mistress,” said Maudie with a great sigh. “And I fear what will happen to me when that marriage happens. They will not permit you and me to stay together, that’s for sure.”
Adaira shuddered. “I cannot think about it just now, not before breakfast. Come, let us get dressed and get something to eat since I had nothing last night.” She rubbed her forehead since hunger was giving her a real headache now. “Then we shall find out what goes on in the castle in my brother's absence. At least we can hope that his campaign will last for some time, and we may be free of his presence for a while.”
Adaira and Maudie went to the kitchens, the beating heart of any castle, first. They saw two guards sitting at a broad wooden table drinking ale from mugs and looking dejected. Healers were in attendance, wrapping bandages around their heads. The men were cut and bruised as if they had been in a fight.
“What happened to them?” Adaira asked of Hector, the old cook who was in charge of the kitchens at Castle Dunn. Hector chuckled, wiping his hands on his apron.
“Them?” he replied. “Well, yer brother left orders that the prisoner who was taken in the battle yesterday should be treated none too gently. Those two thought they would follow his orders an’ gie him a wee bit o’ their ain kind o’ justice. Well, ye can see who came off best!” He chuckled again.
Adaira was horrified. “You mean to say that my brother ordered that the prisoner should be beaten?”
“A’ the time milady,” said the man, with some satisfaction. “Often, an’ right well.”
“I see,” replied Adaira, in a grim voice. “We will see about that!” She stormed off angrily.
They ate a very quick meal and then set out in search of Hamish, who was not only the captain of Adaira’s guard, but he was
also the man who had been left in charge of the garrison in Castle Dunn. They found him in the castellan’s little room, not far from the stairs down to the dungeons. He had a mass of papers in front of him and looked harassed.
“I want to see the prisoner,” said Adaira without preamble.
“The prisoner? No, it cannae be done,” said Hamish immediately. “It would no’ be right. An’ it would be dangerous, too, nae doubt about it, milady. He is dangerous, more like an animal. The laird decided that only a lack o’ food will tame him.”
“You are starving him?” Adaira asked in shock.
The man nodded. “Aye, ye could say that. That is what we must dae, aye. Lack o’ food and water will bring him tae heel if nothing else will.”
“But that’s inhuman!” she cried, horrified. “Surely there is no harm in treating him like a human being?”
Hamish held up his hands against her protest. He looked uncomfortable, but he said, “It’s my orders, milady, no’ my choice. There’s naethin’ I can dae. I’m a soldier, and I must follow my orders.”
Adaira drew a breath to speak, but he spoke firmly across her.
“Sorry, milady,” he said regretfully. “Your tender heart does ye credit, I’m sure, but we are at war, an’ this man is the worst of our enemies. Ye must see that tenderness has tae give way tae the needs of the clan.”
Adaira glared at him, and he looked away, back down at his papers.
“If ye’ll excuse me, now, milady,” he said, indicating the mess on the desk, “I have a great deal tae be gettin’ on wi’.”
Adaira turned and marched from the room, leaving Hamish shaking his head and muttering.
“What will ye dae?” asked Maudie, as she followed Adaira at speed along the corridor back toward the kitchen.
“What we will do is bring him some food ourselves. Captain Hamish has his orders, but you and I have no orders at all.”