Highland Abduction

by Blair Keith

  It wasn't as if that was all false. After all, so long as they remained loyal to him they would ascend to heights which they could only dream of otherwise. He was not about to betray any of them, or stab them in the back. They would be rewarded for serving him well. But that was not because he cared about them. If they died, he would not weep. He simply did not care whether they succeeded or failed, so long as he emerged victorious above all.

  "You are lost in thought again, Eadan?" a warlord from the grasslands asked, sipping his ale. "Or is the wine making your thoughts weak? You should drink a nice strong drink."

  Eadan shook his head. "Wine is good for me. It makes sure everyone knows I have enough money and power to go to France."

  The warlord laughed. "You do not need to go to France for wine, Eadan."

  "You do for good wine," Eadan replied. "Quite frankly, if you do not like wine it is because you have merely sampled English wines."

  The warlord shrugged. "Then, if the wine is fine enough for your delicate noble palate, there is something troubling you?"

  "He has much on his mind as of now," the consul said with a slightly patronizing smile. "Especially with the situation with Clan Davidson."

  Eadan nodded. "Thank you, consul, but that is not something I wish to discuss right now."

  Eyes landed on him from across the table, as his guests fell silent. Around them, the party continued, oblivious to the tension between their various rulers. But between the Laird and his guests, there was a sudden chill.

  "Why would ye not discuss such a vital matter with us?" the Bishop asked, pouring himself another ale and burping. "We are your soldiers, your spiritual, physical, and legal warriors, elevating you to the place you wish to be in. And, it was agreed she would be made an example of."

  Eadan shook his head. "She is being made an example of, and she will continue to be."

  "When will you kill her?" the warlord asked.

  Eadan shook his head again. "I am not certain."

  "You should just execute her tomorrow, give the people a show," the warlord remarked bluntly. "I do not see why a man would wait." He looked up at Eadan knowingly.

  Eadan smirked. "You know precisely why a man would wait."

  "There are plenty of bonnie lassies around, Eadan. And I daresay that many are far more pleasant than a Davidson," the warlord remarked.

  The consul just nodded in agreement, earning himself a glare.

  "There are other reasons, also," Eadan explained. "As I said, I am not yet prepared to discuss these matters. I must think them through."

  "I ken what you're doing," the Bishop said. "And yet surely, enough time has lapsed that, if Laird Ronan wanted her back, he would have paid."

  Eadan shrugged and nodded. "I concede you that. He is showing no sign of caring about her. But surely, that is as meaningful as if he came to fight for her?"

  The warlord raised an eyebrow, drained his glass, and raised his eyebrow again. "Go on."

  "I would do anything it took to bring my sisters back from the dead. If Laird Ronan is not coming for Princess Silena, he must not care for her," Eadan explained. "Perhaps, we can persuade her to join us and serve us, either to tell us about the habits of Clan Davidson, or even to serve as our spy."

  The Bishop laughed. "Ye cannae put so much trust in a woman. Sure, her family may despise her. But then, she would betray everyone, not just one side."

  Eadan shrugged. "It is worth the risk."

  "Is it?" the captain of the guard asked. "I am not so sure."

  "I am keeping her," Eadan said. "I am not sure why so many men feel the need to question my choices in that regard."

  "Because she is a woman," the Bishop insisted. "And we all know how men react to women. We are protecting you from her wiles, so that you do not condemn a Lairdship with your member."

  "The soldiers are growing restless, the people even more so," the captain of the guard said. "My Laird, the time has come to end her."

  Eadan glared at all of them. "She is my prize. And I believe I can win her over, or at least make more use of her alive than dead."

  "If her own brother does not come to her aid, then she is useless, Eadan," the warlord said flatly. "Think with your big head for a moment, and you would see that."

  The Bishop nodded in agreement, forcing a lump of meat and potato pie into his mouth and speaking through it. "The only reason you see her as useful is because she satisfies your carnal desires." He took a swig of ale to wash down his pie. "She is of no use to the Lairdship."

  Eadan looked to his consul. Of course now, of all times, the man chose to remain quiet, looking nervously about the room like the weasel he was. Eadan groaned. "None of you have met her. You do not know what her use may be."

  "You will not allow anyone to meet her," the consul said.

  Eadan shot him a glare. "I believe I have a consul to support me, not to stab me in the back," he snapped. "If ye cannae defend me, then silence." He finished his glass of wine angrily and poured himself another.

  "We are simply trying to look after you. That woman has some sort of a spell over you," the captain of the guard insisted.

  "I shall do with my quarry what I wish," Eadan snarled. "She is mine to have and to use, and I shall kill her if, and when, I am ready."

  "She is using ye to keep herself alive," the Bishop said. "She has tricked you, and if you do not kill her, she will use her magic to overtake you with demonic forces and kill you. Mark my words, the woman must die for her witchcraft condemns us all."

  "Her brother would rather see her die than return for her," the warlord said with a shake of the head and a wry smile. "That says all we need to know about her usefulness."

  The captain of the guard nodded. "Aye, the people are more useful to us, and we are angering them by refusing to kill the wench."

  Eadan rose to his feet. "Ye shall all be quiet and listen to me," he roared, glaring at the room as silence fell. Suddenly, it was not only the four men at his table who listened to him, but the hundreds that spread out before him at their own smaller tables. The guests put their jugs and glasses down and turned in their seats to better see their Laird.

  "I ken that you all have some sort of an opinion on what I ought to do with my slave, the lovely Princess Silena," he remarked. "I have heard that you think I ought to kill her tomorrow."

  The crowd cheered in agreement, their faces lighting up with hope and excitement.

  "No, she is mine. I have stolen her. I have claimed her. And only I may choose what is to be done with her," Eadan snapped, causing the crowd to fall silent again. "I am your Laird. I am the most successful Laird we have seen in generations. I have risked my own life, and lost my own family, to ensure that we regain the lands that were once ours, that our enemy is decimated, and that our people thrive. And if you believe all that will be turned about and I shall endanger you all for the sake of some petty woman, then you have too little faith in me. You are all weak and fools. I am the only person who has guided you to greatness. And if you wish to continue along that path, you shall give in to my desires."

  It was the drink speaking as much as it was Eadan himself. He should, perhaps, have been a little quieter, a little more reasonable. But he had already started, and he would finish.

  "I am going to say this once and once only: I shall not kill her. I do not know what I will do with her. Perhaps, I shall use her as a pawn to negotiate with Clan Davidson. Perhaps, I shall make her my wife and use her to infiltrate their castle. Or perhaps, I shall keep her as my slave and use her body for my own pleasure whenever I like. But none of that has anything to do with you," he finished. "You do not get a vote, or a say. I do as I please, and if you want victory, you shall allow me to do so."

  The people were not happy. They quietly returned to their drinks. But he could tell they were not happy with him. There was a slight silence, punctuated only by secretive murmurs and angry grumbles. But he did not care. He did not want to be liked. He wanted to be feared and respe
cted. And it seemed that none of them had the guts to rise against him as of yet.

  He sat back in his chair and emptied the last of his bottle of wine into his cup, so that it was full to the brim with sweet red drink. He then emptied the cup down his throat and looked around the room.

  How ungrateful could they be?

  He had lost his sisters and his parents and his cousin. He had put his own life on the line and come back from battles with physical and mental scars that would most likely never heal. He had devoted his entire life to the war, to defending their lands, to regaining their territory, to destroying the enemy and protecting the lives of his people.

  And now, there was a small sliver of hope, a tiny chance of either victory or peace, they doubted him?

  War was all they knew.

  And it seemed, it was all they wanted or trusted, as well.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Silena wasn't sure why she was doing this. This man was her captor and her abuser. He was a monster, just as the tales said. In fact, he was worse. The tales had not even warned her of men like him. They had warned her of brainless beasts that would smash your skull in and eat your flesh. They had not warned her of smooth, attractive, intelligent men, void of empathy, who would use your body like a personal plaything until you were physically and emotionally shattered.

  And yet, she felt grateful towards him. She knew that few prisoners lived this long, much less enjoyed an improvement in their conditions as time passed. The more she allowed him to do to her, the more eagerly she responded, the better he treated her.

  At least now, he no longer chained her. He fed her well. She had a bed covered in soft, downy pillows and warm woven blankets. Her room was up in a tower, away from the damp and the cold, with a fireplace in the wall and three windows that looked out over the courtyard, so she could get fresh air and sunlight and enjoy the sights and sounds of everyday life carrying on beneath her.

  She was still a prisoner and a victim. She was still being held and used against her will. That had not changed.

  She forgave him, though. She forgave him for being a terrible monster, a complete and utter beast. Because as time passed, the kinder she was to him, the kinder and more honest he was with her.

  As she learned of his parents' brutal death during a siege, of his sisters, burned alive in a castle tower, and of his cousin, a promising young warlord tortured, sodomized and decapitated, left by the river to be found like a dressed deer, she realized that Laird Eadan had good reason to be angry, bitter, and cruel. He had not been born this way. It was not the Stuart blood that made him so brutal and angry, so cruel and callous.

  The man was broken. Deeper than she could have guessed. Of course, he was cold and cruel. That was what the world was like for him. That was how life had been for him, every day of his existence. When someone was pushed and shoved, hurt and cut, shattered inside and out, how could they turn out anything but cruel?

  She had seen flickers of the same brokenness, the same brutality in herself and her brother. After losing their parents, returning from battle, or hearing of yet another attack on their lands, they would both become withdrawn and unemotional. Too angry to feel sad, the only thoughts on their minds were revenge.

  The difference was Silena and Ronan had one another to turn to. They had someone to remind them that life was worth living, that there was beauty and happiness through the pain. They were not alone, and brother and sister fought to keep each other's spirits up and to avoid turning into monsters. They were helping hands to one another, pulling them out of the well of anger whenever they fell in.

  Eadan's last helping hand had been Garbhan, and when his cousin had died, there had been no kind hand to lift him from the well. He now lived immersed in anger, surrounded by hatred and vitriol, with nobody to help him out into the sunshine again.

  Silena could show him a different world, though. Not just the world he once inhabited, no. She could not bring his family back. Nor the world she came from, as the world of Clan Davidson offered nothing to the head of Clan Stuart. She had a better place in mind. A new and bright world, full of love and peace. One where the Clans would become allies once more.

  Rather than seeing her captivity as a curse and a burden, a punishment to endure until she could escape or die, she was seeing it in a brand new light. It was an opportunity. She and Eadan shared something deeper than she could have believed that first night, and perhaps, that would be enough to save the Clans.

  A part of her said she was doing this only for her brother, for the Clan, for the people of her lands. After all, however broken and justified Eadan was, he was still a senseless brute who had kidnapped and tortured her. However much potential he had, and however much she identified with him, he was still an inhuman monster who was as alien to her as a fish would be to a bird. However much he had realized his mistakes and attempted to treat her better, he had still cast a Princess into a dungeon and left her to rot. However handsome he was, he had still raped her, taken her virginity and continued to abuse her in vile ways without her consent.

  She could not like him. She could not do this for Eadan alone. No, she ought to be doing this for her family and her Clan.

  She did like Eadan, though. Not only that, she loved him - she desired him. She hated to admit it, but his body was so perfectly made for hers, it fit so well against her, inside her. She hated being forced to give herself to him, having her body used like some sort of rudimentary sexual tool and then discarded in the tower room until he next felt aroused. But she also enjoyed the moment, as she was immersed in it. She enjoyed the slide of his body, his moans, his firm hands squeezing her.

  In fact, if she did not enjoy his body so much, this next move might have been tougher.

  She waited for him, stripped down and with a blanket lightly draped over her body. She knew he would come. He always visited at night now. And this time, he would not force her, weeping and resisting, onto the bed where he would impale her dry body until she began to enjoy the sensation and despise herself.

  No, this time she would lay back, already ready for him, embrace him, and enjoy it from the very start. This time, she would be willing and eager, and she would show him everything he could have, so long as he agreed to work to unite the Clans instead of continue the war.

  As the door opened, she shivered a little, feeling nervous, but dropped the blanket down, exposing her nakedness.

  He was slightly intoxicated, but nowhere near as drunk as the first night. He was surprised to see her nakedness, but he smiled appreciatively. "You forgot your clothes, Silena," he said. "How are you going to deny me my prize if I do not even have to fight a cloth barrier?"

  Silena blushed and smiled back. "Perhaps, My Laird, it is time for me to accept my fate, and for you to contemplate yours."

  He grinned. "Contemplate mine?"

  "Aye." She nodded. "I ken that you want me in full, not just by force. And perhaps, if we can overcome our initial meeting, we could save half of Scotland in this very bed."

  "Do you welcome me, then?" he asked, climbing on top of her and pulling the remaining blankets aside, feasting his eyes on her beautiful curves.

  Silena nodded. "I do, My Laird. I welcome you in your entirety."

  "Do you welcome me in your entirety?" he asked, feeling down between her legs and letting out a soft, lustful sigh as he felt how ready she was for his body.

  "What do you think?" she asked with a smirk as he raised his hand to his lips, as though he could not believe this was real.

  He leaned in, kissing her lightly, and then hesitated. "I think you are finally so scared for your life, or so broken, that you are giving yourself to me in hopes I may finally leave you be."

  "No, I welcome you not out of fear, or respect, or hopelessness. I welcome you out of love, Laird Eadan," she explained, voice shaking. "And, I welcome you out of hope that our union might reunite the Clans and save us all."

  "How could that be?" he asked, moving on top of her. Although
he was uncertain, she could feel that whatever doubts existed in his mind did not exist below his waist.

  "If you and I were to wed, the Clans might have a reason to celebrate one another, and we might unite both Lairdships, so that there is no cause to war any longer," she explained.

  "You would marry me?" he asked, blushing with pride and contentedness.

  She nodded. "Aye. I know you were cruel to me, but perhaps, if you can save my Clan and treat me kindly from here onward, I could grow to love you more each day."

  He remained silent, scrutinizing her face, looking for something. As he realized she was telling the truth, he smiled. Not his usual wicked smirk, but a warm, gentle smile. He leaned in and kissed her again. "I suppose I could love you as well, if it will save our people. And especially, if it means coming home to this every night."

  She was ready, and his hands were gentler than ever before, despite their speed.

  "How can you love a man who has treated you so terribly?" he asked. "A truly royal lady, reduced to a mere concubine."

  "I can forgive and forget, if you can forgive and forget," she said quietly. "If we expect our people to forgive one another, to move on from the past and to unite from here on, then we must set an equal example."

  "But I have done such terrible things to you," he said, "I have been a monster. This is worse than any of our people have done to one another, do you not think?"

  "No, you have treated me well. You were in pain, and had every right to kill me," she explained. "You did not. You spared me. Every other Stuart, every other Davidson would have done no such thing. All our ancestors would have killed one another given the chance. You have not killed me, and I have not killed you."

  He laughed. "You have not had the chance."

  "On the contrary," Silena said, reaching under the covers and lifting her hand, firmly grasping a rough, handmade, yet clearly sharp and robust blade she had fashioned out of the spoon he had given her to eat with. "I have had a chance to kill you, and I did not, despite all you have done to me. I forgive you, My Laird."