by Gwyn Brodie
"MacDonell, did you have any trouble along the way?" Colin Monro inquired, as he entered the solar and closed the door.
"Unfortunately, we did. There were several attempts made on Lady Kila's life." The laird was younger than Duncan thought he'd be—perhaps his own age of twenty-eight. His eyes were a vivid green, his hair, long and black, and he stood eye to eye with Duncan.
Colin frowned. "Do you ken why anyone would wish to harm the lass?" He poured a dram of whisky and handed it to Duncan, before pouring himself one. "Please, sit down," he said, indicating a bench along the wall, near the fire.
Duncan drained the cup, and sat down."No' yet. But I intend to find out why, as well as who is behind the attempts."
"You havenae found the culprits then?" he asked, taking a seat across from Duncan.
"Nay. But we haven't stopped looking, nor will we."
"Good. I wish to thank you for bringing my bride."
Duncan nodded, afraid of what he might say if he opened his mouth.
He narrowed his eyes. "James said you wished to speak to me."
"Aye. How bound are you to this marriage contract with Lady Kila?"
He frowned. "Why do you ask?"
"I ken her father made the arrangement without her knowledge."
He nodded. "That is true. But she did agree to the arrangement, once she learned of it, according to the missive I received from her uncle, Laird James Murray."
Duncan took a deep breath. "Since leaving Windmere Castle, Lady Kila has changed her mind about marrying you, and would like the contract broken."
Monro frowned. "I think I'll let the lass tell me that herself, if you dinnae mind. What concern is it of yours?"
Because he planned to marry her himself, but he couldn't very well say that, could he? "I wished only to offer the lady my assistance."
He didn't appear to believe Duncan. "I see. I will take what you have said into consideration, then I will speak with Lady Kila about the matter. As for now, the supper meal is being served, and I'm certain you all are famished."
"Much thanks for your kind hospitality, Laird Monro."
"You are my guests. Please, proceed to the great hall. I'll join you all in good time."
As he entered the great hall, Duncan searched for Kila, and found the steward seating her in the lady of the castle's ornate chair, beside the laird's own.
Connor sat down on her right, and Duncan tapped him on the shoulder.
"Aye?" Connor looked as innocent as a new born bairn.
Duncan raised a brow.
His foster brother moved farther down the table, chuckling all the while.
Duncan sat down beside Kila and filled a trencher with food. "I spoke with Monro about breaking the marriage contract."
"What did he say?" The knife in her hand was trembling, and her knuckles white from gripping it so tightly.
"He insists that you be the one to tell him you no longer wish to wed him. Did you mention to Verona anything about you and me getting married?"
She shook her head. "Nay. I dinnae trust her, nor have I ever, for that matter."
"Eat, lass. You've hardly touched your food."
She picked up a bannock, then froze. "Duncan, where is Verona?" The bannock fell from her hand.
Fear wrapped around his chest and he could hardly breathe. Could Verona be filling the laird's ear, while they sat at his table filling their bellies? "Dinnae fash, lass. Eat your food," he said, and went back to eating his own meal. He didn't want Kila to know just how worried he really was.
VERONA WAS WAITING in the corridor, when Colin left his bedchamber, and her heart fluttered at the sight of him. He was even more handsome than she remembered. While at Windmere, he had worn his long dark hair tied back, but now, it hung loose about his shoulders, and she ached to run her fingers through it. "My laird, might I have a word with you?"
He smiled. "Lady Murray, 'tis good to see you again. I'm on my way to the great hall to greet Lady Kila. I could, of course, speak with you after supper, if you'd like."
"I'm afraid what I have to say cannae wait, and most certain you'd wish to hear it beforehand, for it involves Lady Kila and MacDonell."
He frowned. "Very well. The solar should suffice."
Verona could hardly contain herself until the door closed behind them.
"Now, what is it you wish to tell me?"
Verona forced herself to look solemn. "Lady Kila spent last night in MacDonell's bedchamber."
His eyes narrowed, and the muscles of his jaw twitched. "Are you certain?"
"Aye. I was waiting for her in her bedchamber when she returned. She was wearing only a smock and her cloak." She shook her head. "I must say, I'm dreadfully disappointed in Kila's most inappropriate behavior."
His fists were clenched at his sides. "Did she tell you that was where she'd been?"
"Nay, but when I said I knew she'd spend the night with MacDonell, she didnae deny it."
He turned away from her and walked to the window. "'Tis clear that MacDonell is the reason Kila wishes to break the marriage contract."
"I was unaware that she did, but I'm no' surprised. Even though I reminded him she was betrothed, and to keep away from her, he refused, and ended up with Kila in his bed."
"Leave me," he ordered, without turning around.
"Aye, my laird," she said, stifling a smile. She couldn't wait to see what Colin did to Duncan and Kila.
MONRO NEVER MADE IT to the great hall, which caused Duncan to be even more concerned. And after seeing Kila to her bedchamber, Duncan went in search of Connor and Eadan. He found them returning from the stables. "As soon as Monro agrees to break the marriage contract, we leave this place."
Connor nodded. "Do you think he will?"
Duncan exhaled loudly. "He insists on Kila telling him she no longer wishes to marry him. Whether or no' he'll abide by her request, I'm no' certain."
"Do you think there could be trouble?" Eadan asked, his voice low.
Duncan shook his head. "I dinnae ken, but I dinnae want to take any chances. Perhaps tomorrow our worries will be over," he said, entering the castle.
Monro's steward headed their way. "The laird wishes your presence in the great hall."
Filled with foreboding, he followed the elderly man across the great hall to where the young laird was seated beside the fire. "You wished to see me?"
Connor and Eadan had followed Duncan, and came to stand behind him.
Monro narrowed his eyes. "Aye. 'Tis my understanding that Lady Kila to whom I am betrothed, spent last night in your bedchamber. Is that true, MacDonell?"
He figured lying would only make matters worse. "Aye, but she has no' been compromised, I assure you."
"You're daft, if you expect me to believe that," he said, agitation clear in his voice.
"'Tis the truth, but I'll admit I wasnae truthful when I said I was assisting her. The fact of the matter is that I wish to wed the lass myself." He heard footsteps and peered over his shoulder to see Kila come into the room.
She looked uneasy when she saw Duncan, then stopped before Monro and curtsied. "You wished to see me, laird?"
"Aye. We've just been discussing your sleeping arrangement with MacDonell last night. Do you deny it?"
Her face paled, and for a moment, Duncan thought she might faint. But instead, she answered Monro. "Nay."
"He has informed me that you have changed your mind about our marriage. Is this true, as well?"
She kept her chin up and her voice never faltered. "Aye, 'tis."
Duncan was proud of Kila. She was a much stronger woman than most people perceived her to be.
"Then why do you wish the contract broken? Is it because MacDonell compromised you?"
Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open. "Nay, my laird. He did no such thing. 'Tis because I love him, and he loves me. The two of us wish to wed."
He snorted. "You both have tried to make a fool out of me, and I'll no' stand for it. Guards, take MacDonell to th
e dungeon, until I figure out what to do with him."
"Nay!" Kila screamed, tears running down her face. "Leave him be!" She started toward Duncan, but a guard grabbed her by the shoulders and held her back.
Connor and Eadan stepped forward, but were quickly stopped by several guards with their broadswords drawn. Without their weapons, there wasn't much they could do to aid him.
Duncan swung at the first guard who approached him, knocking him into the stone wall. The other four jumped him all at once. Somebody's fist made contact with his nose, spraying blood over them all, and a sharp pain shot through his head. He continued to fight, ignoring his bruised ribs and aching jaw, until a guard pressed a blade to his throat.
Kila's heart ached as the guards dragged Duncan away, leaving a trail of blood—his blood—across the floor of the great hall.
Monro turned to Connor and Eadan. "You two are confined to your bedchamber, until I decide otherwise. Dinnae try to leave, for there will be a guard posted outside your door as well." Two guards led them away, leaving Kila alone to face the laird.
Colin's eyes flashed with anger, as he turned to her. "And, you, Lady Kila, are to be locked in your bedchamber until further notice. Guard, take her to her room and wait outside the door until you receive further orders."
"Aye, m'laird," he said, as he led Kila across the great hall.
When they reached the stairs, she found Verona on the landing, gloating. She'd more than likely been there the whole time, listening to what Colin did to them, after she'd told him what she knew.
Kila glared at her through her tears. "See what you've done, Verona?"
She raised a brow. "'Tis no' of my doing. I but told the truth."
"Aye, and a bit more to go along with it, I'm certain," Kila said, before entering her bedchamber. Once the door was closed, she threw herself across the bed and cried.
Wyn hurried to her side. "M'lady, what has happened?"
"'Tis Duncan. He has been taken to the dungeon."
"Saints above! But why?"
"Verona told Laird Monro I spent the night with Duncan. The laird feels he's been made a fool of by both of us. In fact, he posted a guard outside my door, as well as Connor's and Eadan's. This is my fault. If I'd no' allowed myself to fall in love with Duncan, and gone ahead with the marriage to Colin Monro, he would not be in the dungeon as we speak, awaiting punishment."
The maid smiled. "But ye did fall in love with him, and he loves ye just as much. I can see it in his eyes every times he looks at ye, m'lady. Ye're a lucky lass, indeed, to love, and to be loved so much."
She nodded, wiped away her tears, and then sat up on the edge of the bed. "Aye," she said, then lowered her voice, "And if I intend to spend the rest of my life with him, I'd best be finding a way to get him out of that dungeon."
WHEN THE GUARDS DRAGGED Duncan into the dungeon, a rat, the size of a cat, scurried down the corridor. The stench of urine and unwashed bodies hung heavy in the air. He wondered how many others were being held prisoner in the rat infested hell-hole, even though the cells they'd passed had been empty.
They entered a vacant cell, and the guards dropped him onto the dirt floor, then bolted the door from the outside.
"Enjoy ye stay, MacDonell." Their laughter echoed against the stone walls and timber ceilings as they left the dungeon.
Duncan's ribs ached, as he crawled up from the floor and moved to the window. He grasped the iron bars, one at a time, and twisted with all his strength, hoping to find a weakness in the stone surrounding them, but they were built solid. He raked his fingers through his hair. He had to get out and find Kila. No telling what that bastard, Monro, might do to her in his present state of mind.
It would more than likely be morn before a guard checked on him again, which gave him some time to devise a plan of escape. He sat down with his back pressed against the door, where he would be sure to hear the guard's approach, and folded his arms across his knees. Two massive rats shoved their way between the bars, and dropped to the floor. Sniffing the air, they moved toward him. It was the blood they smelled—his blood. Cursing, he quickly got to his feet.
Duncan had seen ten summers when his uncle Angus disappeared, and two summers more before he saw him again. His uncle's once handsome face was badly scarred, to the point he was nigh on unrecognizable by his own kin. While in England, he had been falsely accused of stealing, beaten unconscious and thrown into an English prison. It'd not taken long for the rats to find him, and since he'd been unable to fight them off, they'd feasted on him.
Duncan clenched his teeth; he'd be damned if that was going to happen to him. He waved his arms and shouted, sending the blood-thirsty creatures scurrying to the opposite side of the cell. A third rat came through the window, then a fourth. He had to stay awake, or else they'd be all over him.
KILA PACED THE BEDCHAMBER, as she'd been doing for most of the night. The man she loved was locked away somewhere in the dungeon, and as if that wasn't bad enough, according to the man standing guard outside her door, Laird Monro was thinking of challenging him to a duel.
Duncan's life was in danger and it was no one's fault, but her own. She blew out a breath and plopped down on the settle near the fire, staring into the flames. She couldn't just sit around and wait for Colin Monro to decide Duncan's fate. She had to do something, but what?
If she could get past the guard at her door, perhaps she might be able to make it to the dungeon and free Duncan. Kila knew it was a risk, but one she was more than willing to take for the man she loved. "Wyn, quick, switch clothing with me." Luckily, they were of a similar height and build.
The maid's eyes widened, but she removed her arisaid. "What are ye about, m'lady?" she whispered, glancing at the door.
"Freeing Duncan, if I can fool the guard outside the door into thinking I'm you," she whispered, tying Wyn's kerchief around her head, and securing the maid's cloak about her shoulders.
"Do ye think he'll believe ye?" Fear and worry showed clearly on her face.
"We need to convince him that I—who is really you—am in need of a healer. Now, get into bed and pull the covers up over your shoulders." She placed the basin beside the bed. "Hang your head over the side and start retching and moaning loudly." She moved the candle on the bedside table to the far side of the room, leaving the maid's features in the shadows. "Are you ready?"
Wyn sighed. "As ready as I'll ever be, m'lady."
"Good. One more thing. Do you happen to ken which bedchamber is Duncan's?"
"Aye. Earlier, I saw him enter the last room on the left, if ye turn right after leaving here."
"Much thanks." Kila tugged the hood of the cloak over her eyes, picked up a candle, then opened the bedchamber door. "M'lady is ill and I must fetch the healer," she told the guard, keeping her head down.
He hesitated.
"I fear ye laird wouldnae like it if ye allowed the lass he's about to wed to perish," she said, praying he'd listen to her.
He peered into the bedchamber, and Wyn leaned over the edge of the bed and pretended to empty her stomach into the basin. He quickly closed the door between him and the woman he believed was ill. "Then be quick about it," he snapped, before moving several feet away from the door.
Kila hurried down the corridor, coming to a stop in front of Duncan's previously appointed bedchamber. Seeing no one about, she entered the room and searched for his pack. Its contents would sorely be needed, once they were away from the castle. She found it well hidden beneath the bed.
When she left the room, she took the stairs leading down to the empty kitchen, and though the fire had died down, the room was still warm and smelled of fresh baked bread. She searched the cupboard for food to take along with them, and stuffed two loaves of bread, and a chunk of cheese into the pack. Then she saw the tarts. After carefully wrapping them in cloth, she added them to the bread and cheese, then left the kitchen.
With wall torches lighting her way, she searched for a route out of the castle. She soon
found the servants door, and slipped out into the cool night. She shivered, and drew her cloak tightly around her. By moonlight, she located the entrance to the dungeon. A guard sat slumped on the ground against the wall, snoring loudly. Kila spotted a large key hanging on a wooden peg beside the door. Holding her breath, she carefully took it down, and opened the lock. She put the key back where she had found it, and slipped through the door, quietly closing it behind her. Except for the small amount of light from her candle, she was plunged into total darkness.
The putrid smell of human suffering assaulted her senses, and she covered her nose with her cloak. A large rat raced over her foot, and she stifled a scream. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she slowly moved down the corridor, peering into one cell after another and finding each one empty. The thought of Duncan being left alone in such a dreadful place brought tears to her eyes. How was she ever going find him?
MOONLIGHT FLOODED THE small cell with light, allowing Duncan to keep a close watch on the large rats huddled in the far corner. Between the bars, he stared up at the yellow globe. "How the hell do you plan to get yourself out of this mess, Duncan?" he growled.
A sudden noise in the corridor drew his attention. Someone was coming. This might be his one and only chance to escape. He pressed himself against the wall behind the door, raised his clenched fists over his head, and waited.
Candlelight flickered into the cell as the door slowly swung open. His heart pounded as he waited for the guard to come further into the small room.
"Duncan?" Kila whispered.
He breathed a sigh of relief and reached for her.
She squeaked when he pulled her against him. "Bless the saints, 'tis you. This was the last cell on this corridor, and the only one that was bolted shut. I prayed you would be in it. Here is your pack."