Captured by a Laird

by Loretta Laird

  “Name yourself, stranger,’ a voice called from the top of the parapeted surround.

  “Stref Harris. I come to talk.”

  An audible gasp resounded around the barricade.

  “Lay down you weapons!” came the order from behind the gated croft.

  Stref took his sword from its sheath on the side of his saddle, and threw it down on the ground beside his mount. He added his bow and arrow pack; then pulled a long knife from inside his boot and added it to the growing arsenal. Raising his hands in a gesture of submission, Stref looked up to the perimeter wall.

  “Get down from your horse and walk slowly towards the gate,” the voice instructed.

  Stref complied by swinging himself arrogantly down from his mount. A young lad emerged from the gate and took the reins of his large black horse. Stref walked at a steady pace towards the gate, his long stride soon leaving his horse and the groom in his wake. As he approached, the heavy wooden gate swung open to reveal the slightly stooped form of an older warrior.

  “Archers are aimed at you. Keep your pace steady and walk towards me,” he directed.

  As the two men met, Stref raised his right hand and presented his palm to the older man.

  “I come in peace,” he opened. “Are you the representative of Rwenor?”

  “I am Val,” he answered solemnly. “I speak for my clan.”

  “Then I seek to meet with you, Val.”

  Val gestured to a small dwelling just inside the gates of the croft. Stref followed him inside and sat on the bench that was presented to him. The older man settled himself in an armed seat and placed his hands on his knees.

  Stref regarded the man who greeted him. His hair was pure white and his beard matched the snowy tone. Age had slightly withered his stance and size, but the warrior was still evident within him.

  “You are welcome here, Lord Harris.”

  “Stref, call me Stref.”

  “I assume you come with news of your hostage?” As Val spoke his hands clenched and unclenched on his knees.

  “I do, although I am beginning to discover that she may not be the common whore that I mistook her for.”

  Val jumped to his feet and grabbed Stref by the clothes that encircled his neck. “She is no man’s whore, and if you have laid one filthy hand on her, I will…”

  “Caution, old man.” Stref covered Val’s hands with his own. “I may have left my weapons at the door, but I am apt at bare-handed combat.” He pushed Val roughly back into his seat. “Your reaction is the last piece of the puzzle, and I assume you would do just about anything to get your champion back.”

  Val nodded. “Name it.”

  Stref sat back in his chair with a satisfied sigh. This was the way he liked negotiations to proceed. “I propose an alliance with our two clans. It will make us both stronger against Haigh and Fogert, and will give me access to more fertile lands for grazing and crops.”

  “The people will never agree to it. There has been too much suffering,” Val argued.

  “On both sides,” Stref said curtly. “I will marry the girl.”

  As soon as he had spoken the words, Stref wondered where the idea had sprung from. She was quite outstanding to look at, but to marry the enemy, what was he thinking?

  “Marry her?” Val exclaimed. “Have you asked her?”

  “Things have not gone so well in my attempts to converse with my prisoner,” Stref admitted.

  Val let out a bellow of laughter. “Lena does not make life easy for herself. She is her father’s daughter.”

  “Lena?” Stref asked.

  Val baulked as he realised his mistake.

  “So, not only do I have the Green Bow herself in my possession, but one in the same is the clan chief herself. I certainly imagined her older and less…well, less attractive.”

  Val smiled knowingly. “I may be like a father to her and as old as her grandfather, but I am not immune to her charms. The man who tames her will be lucky in so many ways, but will need to be all man to control her.”

  “Oh, I think I may be up to that challenge.” Stref found himself grinning at the prospect. “I will marry Lena, unite our lands, and together we can face Haigh and Fogert and their unholy raids.”

  Val nodded wisely. “Your biggest issue is not with Haigh and Fogert, son. You will need to convince Lena of your plan.”

  Riding back to his keep, Stref was still smiling to himself. It may take him a while to persuade Lena of his alliance, but he would enjoy trying.

  Chapter Six

  Lena had eventually given in to the demands of her body and slept. The soft feel of the skins had lulled her to slumber. Her dreams were peppered with images of burning and death, and she awoke in a pool of her own sweat. In the dark, she sensed that she was not alone. She tensed; then concentrated on the sounds in the room around her.

  Breathing? I can hear a person breathing.

  The tone was raspy and contained a faint rattle. Lena ruled out Stref Harris, and concluded that it came from someone older.

  “I know you are awake,” a voice hissed. “I can hear the change in your rhythm. We cannot have Lord Harris using a hostage to form an alliance, so I suggest you come with me.”

  “You are mistaken if you think I will go anywhere with you,” Lena spoke defiantly.

  “Oh but you will,” came the silky reply. “None will know you are gone, as the incessantly squawking bird roosts for the night, and the bastard Harris has not yet returned.

  Lena silently pulled her blanket towards her. Her eyes were becoming accustomed to the dim light, and she could make out the silhouette of a figure sitting in one of the high-backed chairs just feet from where she had slept. She could hear his breath coming in faster pants, and surmised that he readied himself for her capture. Twisting the cloth around in her hand, fashioning a noose with which to choke the intruder, Lena started as the door suddenly swung open.

  “Just in time, my dear,” the wizened voiced rasped.

  Lena looked towards the shaft of light that surrounded the approaching figure. It was Anna, the servant girl who had left her master’s bed to show her to her room. She carried a bright burning candle before her. Lena didn’t need much light to see the spiteful gleam in the girl’s eyes as they alighted on Lena’s wakening form.

  “I believe you have met my…well, my whore. She has been keeping an eye on things here for me.”

  Anna giggled as swept across the room to throw her arms around the man still hidden in shadows.

  “Gavin,” she spoke with a low and throaty tone. “I have missed being in your bed.”

  Anna moved slowly around the seated man, her ample hips swinging in a provocative style.

  “Missed me when you had Stref Harris to keep you warm between your legs?” snorted the older man in disbelief.

  “That brute has none of your expertise,” Anna purred as she moved the candle to the side of the stranger.

  Gavin? Lena’s mind made the connection instantly. Gavin Haigh, the most feared man in the lands around.

  Knowing your enemy was a thing her father had always implanted in her, so she knew the name Gavin Haigh and all of the horrors that those two words conjured up. Terrorising the land, his very name stilled the hearts of highlanders and lowlanders alike. He took without morality, raided without reason, and killed without cause. Lena’s own clan had lost a few souls to his ruthlessness, but tales more horrifying had reached her borders. Maidens were taken, raped and then left for dead; hung on stakes outside his unholy dwelling. Daughters of clans were his speciality. He targeted them to ensure the loyalty of neighbouring crofts. Just the threat of his arrival, was enough for doting fathers to declare their allegiance to save their offspring from the torment that defiance may bring.

  Lena’s father had not been immune. He had lost countless men, as well as seen women subjected to the horrors of rape. Lena dared not think about what may be in store for her if she fell into his malicious hands.

  By the soft candle
light, Lena looked for the first time on the features of the man whose very name conjured fear and loathing. He sat hunched over in a chair. The lump that caused the shape of his posture, protruded from beneath his woollen tunic. His face was drawn up in a permanent sneer, caused by a long scar that ran from his left eye down to the corner of his mouth. Exposed teeth were brown, and gaps remained where teeth may once have been. His skin was pale, yet his hair appeared dark as cinder. He regarded her with interest, ignoring the vain attempts of Anna to gain his attention.

  Lena held the fur fast in her hands, ready to spring. She knew she could knock the silly girl out of her way and be on Haigh in seconds. With the cloth around his neck, she would just need to hold on until the air left him and he was rendered unconscious. The open door would then be her escape route.

  “Your father is responsible for the scar you seem intent of viewing,” Haigh interrupted her scheming.

  Her shocked intake of breath caused Haigh to chuckle.

  ‘Oh yes, I know who you are. Anna recognised you at once and got word to me. A few years ago I saw you. You were too young for me to bother with then, but your rare beauty is hard to forget. I owe your kin a debt of revenge for my disfigurement. Hell bent on protecting his own people, he was, and now I see why. Such a prize as you was worthy of his efforts. ‘Tis a shame you have no such champion to fight for you today,” he sneered.

  “I need no champion,” Lena fired up at the mention of her father. She flew from the bed with a battle cry and leapt to the chair, encircling the scrawny neck of Haigh in her noose. Her hip sent Anna tumbling to the ground, extinguishing the candle with her billowing skirts. Holding it tightly around him, Lena felt his initial struggle fading fast. She could not risk releasing her hands as she pulled with all her might, waiting for the telltale signs of suffocation. The thump on the back of her head was unexpected and right on the tender part that still bore the pain of Stref Harris’ blow.

  Anna stood over her fallen figure, the candlestick still grasped between her two hands.

  Through the fog of her consciousness, Lena felt the spittle and smelt the rancid breath of her abductor.

  “You will pay for that, lassie. Make no mistake about it,” Haigh hissed.

  Bony hands pulled at her clothing, and Lena felt a clammy touch on her thigh. It travelled up her leg and pushed at the edges of her undergarments. A long finger jabbed threateningly at her womanhood, scratching at her tender folds.

  “What use is she when you could have a real woman,” Lena heard Anna’s petulant voice.

  She froze as Haigh snapped out his orders. “Come whore, we must get back to my men. Harris will soon return, and I want to get a good few leagues ahead of his wrath.”

  Lena was aware of two pairs of hands pulling her weight between them. She forced her eyes open to see Anna ushering them out of the keep by a back door next to the kitchens. It was the entrance used by the cooks and dogs, so was quiet in the still of night. The path to a locked side gate was unmanned. Digging into the front of her low-cut top, Anna pulled out a heavy iron key and brandished it with a theatrical gesture.

  Lena blinked rapidly and forced her mind to concentrate. She opened her eyes like slits to fool the abducting pair into thinking she was still unconscious. Lena watched as though part of a macabre dream, as Haigh took charge.

  “Just get it open,” Haigh spat.

  Obeying with a sullen meekness, the gate was soon ajar, and the trio made their way into the dense wood beyond the keep’s sturdy wall.

  Lena counted ten men all mounted. Their horses were moving in agitated circles around a small clearing. A fine looking chestnut horse was the only one awaiting its rider. With a motion that defied his frail looking stature, Haigh flung Lena over the front of his saddle. He pulled himself up behind her and grabbed the reins.

  “I thought I would ride with you.” Anna pouted prettily, right next to Lena’s slumped body. From here she could read the desperation in Anna’s face. Lena knew that Harris would be most perturbed to find his prisoner missing, and his wrath would soon turn to the few inhabitants of the keep. Anna had evidently thought that she would be away from any retribution, and safely back working as Haigh’s whore. The very thought of that made Lena’s blood run cold.

  “You will return to the keep and inform Harris that his prize has escaped.” Haigh dug his heels cruelly into the animal’s flanks and pulled its reins tight. “I do not wish to be interrupted when I break the spirit of this slut of Rwenor.”

  The laughter of the men joined with Haigh’s as they turned away from Harris’ keep. Lena watched as Anna’s eyes flashed with jealous anger as she stood still, watching them depart.

  Lena cursed the night, knowing that Pride would have reluctantly abandoned his vigil to seek a place to roost in the surrounding trees. She could rely on the animal to track her the next day, and held onto the hope that help may follow.

  Chapter Seven

  Dawn saw, Stref Harris arrive at the gates of his keep, breathless yet eagerly anticipating the challenge that awaited him. To think that within his walls he held, not only the infamous Green Bow, but also the clan ruler of Rwenor. All the power was in his possession, and it filled him with a sensation akin to lust. He dismissed the feeling as a pure surge of control, ignoring the small part of his mind that continued picturing the raven-haired girl that he held in his tower room. In his mind, she was licking her parched lips in that beguiling way and looking up into his eyes waiting for his mouth to possess hers. He vowed that his hardening member would not rule this day. The girl would be used merely as pawn to get the lands he so desperately needed to challenge the strength of his avaricious neighbours. Stref had barely time to stable his horse before Anna burst in wide-eyed and panting. Her ample breasts strained at the ruffles that ruched around the plunging neckline. Stref gave nothing more than a cursory glance at the goods on display; then raised his eyes to the flushed face of his servant.

  “Could you not await me to step inside the keep,” he drawled. “I too seek satisfaction, but have a task to attend.”

  “A task that resides in the tower room, I suppose,” Anna snapped with a deepening flush.

  Stref laughed, trying not to allow his mind to return to the girl who awaited him. “If you refer to my future wife; the clan chief of Rwenor then you are correct.”

  Anna drew in a breath, her eyes widening in shock at the revelation. “Wife?” she repeated.

  “Aye, lass, wife indeed.” He moved closer to the trembling maid and leaned in, his breath caressing her cheeks in a deliberate seduction. “If she is found to be unsatisfactory in the marital bed, I will know where to come.”

  Reaching his hand to cup Anna’s rear, Stref looked at her with a wolfish grin.

  Taking an unsteady step backwards, Anna met Stref’s eyes, and then lowered hers to the hay covered floor.

  “She is gone,” she admitted in a voice so low that Stref strained, at first, to comprehend the words.

  Suddenly he stilled as realisation dawned on him. His body froze and his eyes narrowed suspiciously.

  “How could she escape from a locked room?” he asked. “I gave strict instructions for the room to remain secure.”

  “I–I went in to check on her. There was a noise coming from inside. She pushed past me and ran. By the time I got up, she was nowhere to be seen.” Anna voice faltered as she told her tale, tears springing conveniently from her eyes.

  “Did you sound the alarm? Did you send some rider to track her?” Stref frowned at the charade that was being re-enacted in front of him. Something seemed amiss.

  He walked closer to Anna, extending his finger and using it to lift her chin. Under his intense scrutiny, Stref saw a flash of guilt cross her face indicating his instincts were correct. He growled an animalistic rumble that filled his chest and immediately wrapped his hand into Anna’s thick hair, pulling her close. He bent his head down to the level of her face.

  “Tell me the truth,” he spoke quietly wi
th unconcealed menace.

  “He took her,” Anna sobbed. “Haigh has her. He made me open the door. I have heard about what he does to women. I was scared. Oh, Stref, I am sorry.”

  Stref pushed Anna aside. She fell into a pile of hay, her body racked with grief. Stref looked down at her dispassionately, his mind working overtime trying to piece together the evidence.

  “It makes me wonder how he gained access to my well-guarded keep,” he said, pausing at the stable door to look back at the wench.

  “Haigh is welcome to the little whore!” Anna spat after his retreating form. “I did you a favour when I let him take her. Maybe he will teach her how to be a real woman. I’ve heard he has ways to get what he wants from those he takes.” Anna’s smug smile caused Stref’s blood to boil.

  Clenching his fists to subdue his anger, he roughly reached for his saddle and pulled himself back onto his stallion.

  “When did they leave?” he demanded, not expecting an answer from the spiteful woman

  “Hard to remember,” Anna sang as she pulled herself from the hay. The dry yellow sticks stuck to her garments, and her hair hung in a matted mess.

  “You had better not be here when I return,” Stref spat, looking in disgust at the woman who had once warmed his bed.

  A surprised Clyde appeared in the doorway of the stable.

  “There is one angry bird out here,” he interjected. “It seems to have lost something.”

  For the first time since entering the stable, Stref smiled.

  “Clyde, saddle up,” he grinned. “We ride to Haigh’s, and that bird will lead the way!”

  Clyde was instantly beside his laird in the stable. “What causes this raid?” he asked, never for a moment doubting his master’s call.

  “He has taken something that was mine,” Stref said. “I will see it returned.”