by Fiona Faris
From somewhere a little closer, she heard the sound of their cow, Bessie, lowing. It was probably milking time. Would someone be allowed to milk her or were their animals being neglected?
Rebecca added that to the list of things she needed to worry about.
Chapter Two
Onesmus declined the chance to bite the man that had bitten him.
“Hell, if I was in his place, I’d ’a probably bit me too.” he conceded.
Chris nodded in acknowledgement. “Good. So, I have had a think about what to do with these men. The longer we keep them prisoner, the more time they have to plan escape or that bastard of a lord will come for them. So, here’s the plan. Tomorrow the lass and I will ride for Gretna Green. The rest of you’ll blindfold her men and ride them to the Forest of Dean. You can leave them there to find their way. They’re Scotsmen, so it might take them a while.”
There were murmurings and chuckles from his men.
“You tie them up good, leave them their weapons and food in another part of the wood. That’ll give us some extra time. By the time they untie themselves and find their weapons, you’ll be long gone. They’ll be on foot, and we’ll have their mistress as hostage.”
Toby stepped forward. “Are you sure this is a good plan?” he asked.
Chris frowned. This was the second time Toby had questioned him in as many days. It was beginning to annoy him. “Yes I am.”
“What if they come after us? Try to kill us?”
Chris smirked. “We still have a hostage,” he stated as if it should be obvious.
“Yeah but-”
“Enough! I’ve given your orders. Now carry them out.” he turned away, bristling with irritation. Toby was really beginning to get on his nerves. After all this time, why would he be questioning everything Chris did? He dismissed the thought from his mind. He had to get ready for his journey to Gretna Green with a reluctant bride. That meant they could not just ride, he needed a carriage, and some kind of restraints. He might need some whiskey to doze her, just to make her a little more compliant to being manhandled about. He imagined that getting her from her locked tower to the carriage might be a nightmare otherwise.
She would fight him all the way just on principle.
Never mind the very strong objections she had voiced about eloping with him. Chris would have to come up with something really good to make her comply and he had the inkling of an idea how he could bring it all about.
He smiled, even while shaking his head. He might get what he wanted but his bride would no doubt want to take it out on his hide in kind. He shrugged as he walked toward the keep, bottle of whisky in hand. If that was what it took then...that was what it took.
He opened the door to the keep and found her huddled on the floor, looking a bit worse for wear. He got on his knees and leaned in, trying to get her to look at him but she studiously avoided his eyes. Manfully repressing an eye roll, he sighed, holding the flagon of whisky out to her.
“Go on, you'll feel better. " he urged softly neglecting to mention the laudanum he had adulterated the drink with.
Rebecca shook her head, still avoiding his eyes and so Chris sat down heavily beside her, pretending to take a sip of the drink. “Would you like some food instead? It’s just that you look quite exhausted right now and I thought you could use some cheering up.”
“Letting me go would cheer me right up.” Rebecca snapped, a lot more life in her voice than Chris had been expecting.
“Right. I want you happy as well, Rebecca, really nothing would make me happier. I need you with me because you are a crucial pawn in my negotiations with your brother, you understand? There is no need for any of this to be unpleasant.”
“It’s already unpleasant ye weasel!” Rebecca shouted so suddenly that it startled Chris.
“I misspoke. What I meant to say was that we do not have to exist in continuous misery. Here, please, drink with me.” he nudged the bottle against her arm and she turned to glare at him with blood red eyes.
“I said no thank ye.”
Chris exhaled sharply, leaning his head against the wall as he sought inspiration from the ceiling. “Are you hungry?” he asked at last.
She simply shook her head without looking at him.
“Mm, I think you’re hungry. I’m going to look for something you can eat. Hang on.” he struggled to his feet leaving the bottle of whisky on the floor as he walked around her and left, taking care to lock the door behind him. He listened for a moment, not hearing any movement from inside the room and then walked away, ready to get the food.
He took his time to put together some bread, pickles, ham and cheese, hoping Rebecca would have succumbed to the temptation to drink. Putting his offerings on a tray, he made his way back to the keep where he found Rebecca still slumped in on herself...but the contents of the bottle were slightly depleted. His heart leapt with joy and he put the food down next to her.
“Would you like me to keep you company while you eat?” he asked as he loomed over her.
She shook her head quite frantically.
“Okay then. I’ll uh...leave you to it.” he hesitated a moment longer, hoping she would change her mind but she kept her head firmly embedded inside the circle of her arms. He shrugged, sighed and made to leave, still walking slowly in case she changed her mind.
She didn’t.
He closed, and locked the door behind him, leaning against it with his eyes closed as he waited. Listening to the cow lowing and the shuffling about of the pigs, it really was quite peaceful here. He had a hope that somebody had thought to milk the cow.
Apart from the elderly steward - Amos, Chris believed his name was – there were only two permanent staff on hand. A young man and woman whose names he had yet to find out. They tried to fight at first but stood down when he informed them that their mistress’ life would be at risk should they cause trouble. It was further proof that Rebecca was revered in her brother’s household and thus was the perfect hostage. After he and his men left, they would undoubtedly get a message to The MacTavish that his sister had been kidnapped.
Meanwhile, they were useful for keeping the house hold operations going. Chris had ordered Amos to inform the day staff from the village that they were no longer required, at least until their master returned. That was one less headache he had to worry about. If the townspeople were resentful of losing their jobs, so much the better for Chris. He would be able to persuade them that he made a better lord than Alexander MacTavish all the easier.
Chris got to his feet with a sigh, thinking that in the meantime, it would not hurt if he allowed the house servants to see to the animals. He trudged off in search of them. They were allowed to feed themselves, use the facilities but they were to make sure to stay in sight of one of his men at all times. The penalty for disobedience was that their mistress would be hurt and they were not prepared to risk that.
Lucky for me. Chris thought with an evil grin. He really did not want to cause any more harm to Rebecca than he could help. She was a little spitfire, but a lady forby and he respected her backbone...he could also admit that he was a little enamored of her rosy cheeks and waves of brunette hair, her round hips and her fiery blue eyes. She was a passionate woman and he had no doubt that she could keep him on his toes.
Perhaps he had had more than one ulterior motive in wanting to wed her. That was nobody’s business but his own.
He stepped into the kitchen to find Amos and the two young ones huddled by the stove. “You two,” he pointed at them, “there’s a cow that needs milking.”
The young man immediately broke away from the huddle and scurried toward him, “I’ll see to it,” he volunteered. Chris nodded, eyed the other two that were glaring back at him and then stepped back out. He had given Rebecca enough time. She must have eaten the food and drunk some more whisky by now.
Likely she would at least be feeling slow and drowsy if the laudanum had done its job. He would get her on a horse and ride all night if he
had to. A horse would be much faster than a carriage and the further away they were from anywhere familiar, the less tempted Rebecca would be to run away from him. He had a feeling he would not be able to drug her two nights in a row.
“Let me see...I will need rope, to tie her to the horse,” Chris felt his body react in a very inappropriate way as he said it.
To have Rebecca, tied up and at his mercy...He dismissed the thought as fast as he could.
“I’ll also need food, bedding...” he nodded as he let himself into the keep, “that will do for now.”
“Wha..?” Rebecca lifted her head from her hands, eyelashes fluttering as she tried to focus on him. His eyes went to the bottle and saw that the liquid was more than half gone and he nodded in satisfaction. He almost clapped his hands and skipped but refrained. Squatting on his haunches, he took a closer look at her eyes.
He could see fear in them, some awareness that something more than drunkenness was wrong with her, and she tried to move her limbs as if to get away from him. But she could not.
“I don’t want you to worry. This is just to make you easier to transport,” he reassured her even as her eyes widened at his words. He got to his feet, watching her for a moment longer before nodding and stepping out of the room. He locked her in because being drugged did not mean she was any less dangerous. He hurried to the house, gathering the things that he needed and saddling a horse. The faster they got on the road, the sooner it would be done.
The room was swirling around her and she could see rainbows dancing on the dust motes. It was distracting because she was trying to worry about the brigand and what he meant by drugging her in such a manner. She had eaten the food and drunk the whisky because she needed sustenance; why it had not occurred to her that the drink might be laced with stronger stuff she could not imagine. But she had thought that since she was already thoroughly imprisoned, there would be no need to compromise her further.
At least she had hoped.
Now her limbs felt so heavy she could barely lift them, and her neck could not support the weight of her head. Everything was blurry with a purple sheen around the edges and it was all she could do to even keep her eyes open.
“Ye bashhhhtaard,” she murmured carefully, angrily, fearfully and her back shivered. Then he was there, kneeling in front of her, a blanket in his hands. He tucked it securely around her and lifted her up. She was dimly impressed by his strength even as she struggled weakly unable to coordinate her extremities into any sort of coherent attack.
“L-leave mmmeee aloooonnne,” she tried to articulate as clearly as possible but he ignored her, hoisting her over his shoulders like a blanket-covered sack of potatoes and striding out of her prison.
“L-l-lettt me gooo,” she tried again but he was transferring her onto the back of a huge black stallion, her hands tied to the saddle, and then he was climbing up behind her. The wind whipped at her face as they took off at speedy canter and it helped to sober her up a bit.
Not enough though.
Not nearly enough.
They rode for an interminable time, no stops to rest or water the horse or themselves. Her heart was pounding rapidly and she did not know if it was because of fear or the effects of whatever drug he had given her. She did not try to talk again, deciding to bide her time and wait for her chance.
Sooner or later, he was going to have to stop and then she would make her escape. Unfortunately, she had no clue of their current direction, could only imagine that they were headed towards the shotgun wedding he had promised her. She could not fathom how he thought he could make her marry him but was willing to let him have his delusions if it lowered his guard and gave her a chance to escape.
Soon, the effects of the drug and fatigue from riding had her eyes closing, her body listing to the side.
She was unconscious, snoring softly. Chris arranged her so she was lying against his chest, even as he tried to ignore her intoxicating warmth. He resolved to find a place for them to rest because as soon as Rebecca was alert again, he would have to be as well. He squeezed his stallion’s flanks, urging him to go faster. There was an inn not five miles from where they were. It would make a perfectly good resting place. It would also give total strangers the perfect opportunity to witness them sharing a room thus compromising Rebecca beyond the possibility of repair.
He would be sure to use her name extensively just in case. Perhaps she and her brother might have got away with her being held hostage, but she alone with a man, sharing a room together? She could never land a proper husband after this. MacTavish would be forced to take Chris’ troth seriously or else condemn his sister to an existence on the periphery of society. Of course, he might argue that being married to Chris was not much better but there lay the rub. If MacTavish was willing to leave Dun Alba to Chris, then he in turn, was willing to turn his back on his life of crime.
Chris was of the opinion that it was a very good deal and if he could persuade MacTavish that his sister was happy with it, then it could very well work out. The only trick was to get Rebecca on board.
A light drizzle began to fall and Chris urged his horse to go faster, making sure Rebecca was securely covered with a blanket. They got to the inn an hour later and he untied her hands from the bridle and carried her into the inn.
“My bride to be and I would like a room for the night,” he informed the innkeeper. The man peered at Rebecca’s peacefully sleeping face and nodded.
“This way, I have a double room on the first floor you can use.”
Chapter Three
Rebecca startled awake to find herself lying prone on a rather hard surface, a line of warmth on her left side and nothing looking the least bit familiar. Whipping her head around, she belatedly realized that the warmth beside her was due to a body in the bed with her! Examining herself, looking for signs of defilement or that anything about her was different; she found nothing which was a relief. She felt no different from before and her clothes were intact.
Auburn curls were spread all over the sheet, much to her horror, the brigand’s eyes were closed and his mouth was open. He looked like a rag doll, flung onto the bed and abandoned beside her. It was disconcerting how much more innocent his face looked in repose. Staring at him, she wondered what could have happened to turn him into a hardened criminal, a lawless bandit who kidnapped innocent maidens for his own nefarious reasons.
With a jerk, she realized that she was untied, and her captor was asleep. Yet here she was wasting time wondering about him when she could be escaping! Scrambling out of bed, she was face down in the muddy floor before realizing that her feet were hobbled.
Trying to get up, she found that her feet had no purchase and all she could do was scramble to her knees.
“Mmm, what a magnificent view.” The brigand’s voice startled her and she turned her head quickly, realizing he was staring at her arse.
“Stop it!” she cried and then felt stupid. It was not as if he would listen to her.
He swung his legs off the bed and sat on the edge, smirking at her. “Stop what?”
“Stop your…gawping!” she cried as she tried to scramble around so that her head was facing him rather than her butt.
He laughed, apparently very amused by her antics, but then he stood up, grasped her arm and pulled her to her feet. “There you go. Better?”
Struggling to stay on her feet, she swayed a bit from side to side before she attained some balance. He gestured toward her feet. “Sorry about that. Couldn’t have you running off during the night now could I?”
“I dinna see why not.”
The brigand barked out a laugh. “You’re a funny one, aren’ you?”
“Oh aye, I’m hilarious. Will ye let me go now?”
The brigand hissed, shaking his head with faux regret. “I’m sorry but it’s too late. We’ve spent the night here and people have seen us spend the night here. They know your name. You’re already compromised.”
Rebecca stared at him with wide
eyes, trying to comprehend his words. Then she gave a banshee scream, launching herself at him and closing her hands about his neck. “I’ll kill ye. I swear I’ll kill ye dead ye big Jessie!”
Chris grabbed her hands, holding them tight in his own. “Whoa! Calm down lassie. No need for all the hysterics. It's alright. I’m quite willing to marry you.”
Rebecca screamed with rage struggling to break away from him but he just laughed, keeping hold of her hands with seeming effortlessness.
“Bastard!”
“Now now, no need for that. The innkeeper will think I am beating you.” Chris laughed, his eyes alight with amusement and Rebecca just wanted to kill him.
“Come on, do you want some breakfast before we go or are you ready?”