Captivated by the Enemy: (Scottish Highland Romance)

by Fiona MacEwen

  Blaine felt a smirk tugging at his lips. “Since when did my father, who has no care for me in the world, begin to show concern for my marital status?”

  “Since I discovered that I am…ill.”

  With that, he let go of his son and continued to walk down the stairs on his own.

  Blaine stared at him, expecting his father to turn around and laugh and say that he was joking. But even if the laird had said that, he would not have believed him. He could see the signs on the laird’s pallid face, on his arms, in the way he walked…it all made perfect sense now.

  “It is fatal,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, trailing after Manfred. “Is it not?”

  “Of course it is, my son, or I would have told ye this in passing and not the way I did. The healers have no name for it yet, but, seeing as they have been unable to stop me from growing weaker every day, I have decided to place my trust instead in time, who it is certain will take me away soon. And, of course, I trust my son.”

  “Whit has Mother said about this…illness?” Blaine wanted to know. “Please tell me ye have informed her.”

  “Always showing extreme concern for yer mother,” the laird said. “I wish my son loved me that much.”

  “And I wish my father never treated me harshly as a bairn,” Blaine said coldly. “But we do not always get whitever we want, whenever we want, do we, father? Did ye inform Mother about yer ill health?”

  “Lower yer voice, son. Are ye going to yell that to the heavens, too?” his father said disapprovingly. “The guards do not ken. The only people who are aware of my health, aside from the healers, are yer mother and ye. I informed her just yesterday, shortly after ye departed for Breas. She was…distressed, but I managed to calm her down.”

  Blaine nodded. Then the question that had been prodding at the back of his mind swam to the forefront. “But whit does all this have to do with marriage?”

  The laird gave a wistful smile. “I think it would be nice to see my son find a woman of his dreams and have a child or more before I passed,” the laid said with a bit of a smile on his face. “I would like to see our lineage continue. If neither of us does, at least one of our descendants will finally crush those McGregors for guid.”

  Blaine gave a laugh that never quite reached his eyes. As much as he disliked his father, the thought that he was ill was absolutely unsettling. The laird was likely to lose his life soon.

  “I dinnae ken whom I will marry,” Blaine said, although a thought had already made its way to the front of his mind. He chose not to dwell on it, albeit appealing. “Searching for a bride could take a very long time. Ye may not be alive to see me marry.”

  “Oh, I daresay I have a year, at best. That should be enough time to find ye a beautiful bride. Oh, do not look so gloomy son. Everything will be guid!”

  “Unfortunately, not for ye.”

  Chapter 4

  The Plan

  Over the next few days, Ness’ father seemed to grow more and more afraid. He kept Ness locked in her bedchamber and only let her out to have meals, wash herself, and to have occasional talks with her sister. As much as she knew that it was entirely her fault that her father had lost his trust in her, Ness could not help feeling as though she was being unfairly treated. During the occasional meetings with her father, especially over supper, she made sure to bring up the topic of the relationship between the McGregors and the Campbells. Her father’s reaction was always the same: he growled and shouted and pounded his fists on the table so that the plates and cutlery trembled. Finally, he ordered that Ness be taken up to her bedchambers again. Their relationship seemed to be coming apart at the seams although Ness knew that this was not really the case. Even though the laird got angry whenever she suggested making peace with the Campbells, it was only a matter of time before he calmed down again. But he never agreed to her proposals.

  But this did not discourage Ness. As far as she was concerned, her father was simply too blinded by his pride and hatred for the Campbells to see the truth of the matter. Even her sister, Anne, reasoned as Ness did. If the incident had taken place over a hundred years ago and the main parties involved at the time were long gone, then there was really no need for them to be at loggerheads now. It was completely absurd. Why on earth should two men leave behind a legacy of enmity for their descendants to take up, several decades after they had left? Ness was convinced that this was the most ridiculous thing she had ever heard of. And if it was left to go on like this, things were bound to spiral out of control. One of the clans could suddenly decide to wage war on the other, and many lives would be lost.

  Ness was not going to let that happen.

  She could not deny that the knowledge that Blaine’s ancestor had murdered hers was very horrific, but no way was she letting that cloud her judgement. Bygones should be bygones. And she was going to make sure of it.

  All she needed to do was find a way to get out of her bedchambers.

  It was night, and Ness was standing beside her bed, twiddling her thumbs as she pondered the best way to escape—no, the possible ways to escape. When she was done doing that, she could start selecting the best. There was somewhere she needed to go—and fast, if she was to be able to save her clan and Blaine’s from doom on time.

  Blaine. It was to him that she wished to go. She had never been to Argyll before, but she knew where it was. Right now, the only thing separating her from the other town was her lack of a horse. But she would get that very soon…

  Escaping from her bedchambers would be no problem, Ness thought, letting a silver object slip into her palm from underneath her sleeve. A fork. She had sneaked it off the dining table before the maid came to clear the plates. Ness turned, and covering her head with a black scarf, walked towards the door. All she had to do to be on the other side of it was to jam the fork between the latch and the doorway and heave. Of course, that would limit her opportunities and make it more likely for her to get spotted by the guards.

  Within minutes, she was hurrying through the dimly lit hallways, careful to avoid being seen by any of the guards or servants. It was tough work, but for the first few minutes, she moved unnoticed. It was surprising how the servants did not realize who she was when she walked past them. One of them even mistook her for a servant girl and asked her if she had washed all the supper plates like she was supposed to.

  It was when Ness was nearing the oak doors that separated her from the outside world that the guard standing beside it caught sight of her. Thinking quickly, she delivered a swift kick to his kneecap, and he went down, but not before he had raised an alarm. Ness could hear other soldiers hurrying behind her. She shot the man on the ground a last look before taking off.

  “I am very sorry, sir,” she said truthfully. “But there is something that I must do.”

  “Ye…not…bedchambers,” he groaned. She stepped over his body and ran out of the castle. Ness wasted no time heading for the stables. She raced for the nearest horse and swung onto it, hoping her father would, for a while, believe that she was headed for Breas to see Matilda. Then she flicked the reins, and the horse bolted away from the castle, neighing like mad.

  ***

  Perhaps it was the sound of the horse neighing, or the men’s shouts, that awakened him. Perhaps it was simply the feeling that something was not right. Be that as it may, Wilson McGregor sat up with a jolt, his eyes wide and frantic. A few seconds later, the men’s voices grew louder, and soon they were banging on the door of his bedchamber.

  “Talk tae me!” he snapped, shooting to his feet. He knew something was definitely wrong, otherwise these men would not be causing such a ruckus at a time like this. Wilson had a distinct suspicion, but he chose not to dwell on it.

  “My Laird!” one of the guards cried. “Yer daughter has ridden off!”

  “Impossible!” the laird spat. How could his daughter have gotten away from the castle when she was safely ensconced inside her bedchambers? He strode over to the door and wrenched it open,
glowering at the men; they all fell silent the moment they spotted him.

  “Hoo did this happen?” he demanded. When they all hesitated, he balled his fists and took a step forward. “Answer me!”

  One of the men stepped forward timidly. When he spoke, his voice sounded several notes higher than it used to be. “We dinnae ken how she got out of her bedchamber, my laird. But one of the guards raised an alarm before she attacked him and rode away on a steed.”

  “Has anyone gone after her?” he asked.

  The men all looked at one another. Apparently, this idea had not once occurred to them. Wilson balled his fists and groaned. Unbelievable! Did they not have any common sense in them at all?

  The news that Ness was gone filled the laird with both fear and anger. She had decided to travel not during the daytime when all was much safer, but at night. Had it not been at night that she had gotten robbed and left for dead? And she had disobeyed him once again. He had planned to remove her restrictions once he was sure that she had learned her lesson, but she had lost his trust before he could regain all of it. No doubt this was about the issue she had been trying to get him to discuss with her. “Reuniting the McGregors and the Campbells once more…” as if that was ever likely to happen. He would chop off his arms before he made peace with the bloody–

  Campbells. The name rang in his mind like a large bell.

  He knew exactly where she was headed.

  He opened his eyes. The men were still standing outside his bedchambers, staring at him. It dawned on him that they were waiting for him to issue an order.

  “Well, whit are ye all waiting for!” Wilson growled at them. “Get on yer horses and gang after her!”

  “But, my laird,” said the guard who had spoken before, “we dinnae ken where she is headed!”

  “I do.” Wilson ground his teeth together. It was taking all his willpower to keep from screaming and attacking his men. “My daughter is gaunnae Argyll. If those foul Campbells lay their hands on her, she will never return. Get her and bring her back!”

  Chapter 5

  The Proposal

  The horse thundered along the path, nickering softly. Ness absentmindedly stroked its back, staring ahead. She leaned forward, bringing her body closer to the horse’s body so that her chest grazed it. As they plunged through the path, Ness briefly wondered whether she would be able to defend herself in the event that she was attacked by robbers again. Perhaps this time she would be able to flee before they laid their hands on her. Ness was quite skilled when it came to riding horses; in her younger years, when her father was not aware, she had bullied one of the guards to teach her to ride a steed. It had taken her a lot of practice, but she finally managed to mount a horse without slipping off seconds later.

  It occurred to her that this was perhaps the most dangerous thing she had done in all her years of living. Returning from Breas later than she was supposed to was second to that. Ness did not doubt that her father had sent a search party after her. She wondered if he knew she was heading for Argyll or he thought she was going to pay Matilda a surprise visit. She hoped it was the latter; if so, the guards would take the path which led there. Be that as it may, the laird would be enraged when she returned.

  If she returned.

  Ness had not gone very far before she began to fall asleep. It must be because of the excitement, she thought. She had not once slept throughout the day. She nodded off once, twice, then decided it would be much too dangerous to continue like this. She brought her horse to a halt, led it off the path into the nest of trees and branches, and lay on the soft ground, losing consciousness in moments.

  It was the thundering of hooves that awoke her. She jerked into a sitting position, thinking for a moment that her horse had begun to panic and was stampeding. But the horse still stood nearby, nickering. Besides, there was more than one horse making that sound. And the sound was coming nearer.

  Father’s men.

  No sooner had the thought occurred to her than she heard the men’s voices. A second later, the path was illuminated as guards bearing torches, fully clad in armor, rode past. Then they were gone.

  For a few moments, Ness did nothing. Then she let out her breath, which she had been holding. The men were gone, but they were headed towards Argyll. That was a huge problem, aggravated by the fact that she was not there. There was no telling what might take place when the guards reached the town and found that she was not there. Possibilities flashed through ness’s mind. None of them were pleasant.

  She could go after them now and allow herself to be taken back to her father’s castle and face his judgement, or she could wait until they returned—perhaps bloodied and exhausted—before heading for Argyll to meet the man she desired…no, not desired. She could not possibly be having feelings for Blaine after their first meeting. No, on the contrary, she merely wanted to have another opportunity to speak with him so that the clans could be reunited once again. Aye, that was definitely it. He would probably tell her that she was being foolish as her father had done earlier. Or, worse, he might pretend that he did not know who she was. Nevertheless, she would do her best to ensure that he saw reason. Perhaps she would convince his father afterwards.

  Ness sat, waiting patiently.

  ***

  Blaine knew something was wrong the second he heard the horses.

  “Ye will go to them and make the proposal,” Manfred was saying, leaning against the table to support his weight, and waving his hands for emphasis. “Should the council reject it, ye must make them aware of the benefits of the alliance. Remember to place focus the benefits…”

  “I ken this, Father. Why do ye not think I can handle this perfectly?”

  “I have faith in ye, my son. But one must always make sure that all corners are seen to.”

  He and his father were in his study, two floors up, bonding, which in this case meant discussing more diplomatic issues. He was to go to represent the Campbells in the town after Breas and secure an alliance with them. It was odd how these days his father kept sending him to other clans for this purpose. Perhaps he wished that all neighboring clans would be united with his by the time he passed away and his son took his place.

  Blaine did not want to think about his father dying, but the second the thought entered his mind, he knew it would be difficult to remove it. He had never really thought about what it would be like to watch his father die, but now he imagined it as vividly as though it had already happened. Would he be there when his father’s illness finally took his life? Blaine wondered what his father’s last words to him would be. It was amazing that he was even thinking this, considering the fact that he and his father were not usually close.

  “…and tell them that the terms of the treaty are…Blaine?” Manfred said. “Son?”

  Blaine blinked. His father was staring at him with a strange expression on his face. Was that…concern?

  “Aye, father?”

  “Hoo are ye?” Manfred wanted to know. “Ye looked quite pale for a moment. One would have thought ye had seen a ghost.”

  Yer ghost, Blaine thought, but he merely said, “I am fine, Father.”

  “Are ye sure?”

  “Aye, I am.” Blaine felt himself gritting his teeth.

  Then he heard them. It started with a faint clopping of hooves. Then the sound became thunderous. If Blaine did not know better, he would have thought that an earthquake was happening. But even this was unsettling. Why were horses moving about at this time? Had they been startled by something? Did they have riders on them? Were they…?

  Enemies.

  He ran to the nearest window and peered out, clutching the iron bars. All he could see was semi-darkness. But there was a strangely bright light to the left. He turned his head. Sure enough, dozens of men were riding towards the castle, their horses ghastly looking in the light from the lit torches the men held raised over their heads. They were chanting something he could not quite hear.

  “Whit is that?” Manfred
demanded. Blain could almost feel him frowning in bemusement as he strode across the room and stared down through a window at the men. “This is an outrage!”

  Without another word he marched out of the room, his clothes billowing behind him. Blaine could hear him calling for his guards, his voice growing fainter and fainter as he drew farther away. He considered remaining where he stood and watching the events play out from the distance, but it occurred to him that that would be the most unwise decision, considering that his father could be quite explosive at times and could stir up a war without knowing. Heaving a huge sigh, Blaine trailed after Manfred.

  His father was approaching the men when he got outside the castle, stumbling as he walked. Manfred’s guards flanked him on both sides, all fully armed, hands on their sword handles. The horsemen had stopped and were watching the laird and his men advance. They were still chanting. It took Blaine a few moments to realize that they were saying. “Surrender her or face his wrath!”

  Surrender? What was the matter with these people?

  Blaine skirted around the guards and came to a stop beside his father. He could see the horsemen more clearly now. Their clothes, Blaine realized, were quite different from what he was used to seeing. They wore colors that were foreign to the town of Argyll. When Blaine looked more closely, he saw stripes of green and orange.

  He knew exactly what those colors meant.

  “It is those wretched McGregors!” his father said under his breath. He cast a sideways look at his son. “We must destroy them before they do us.”

  He reached for the sword strapped to his waist, but his son stopped him before he could draw the weapon.

  “Calm down, Father,” said Blaine, who was as eager for a war as he was to get himself killed. “I will handle this just fine. There is no need for war right noo.”

  He stepped forward, holding up his hands. “Put down yer weapons, my friends. We must not fight, lest we fall in disunity.”

  He heard one of the McGregor men give a snort and say, “Friends, he calls us. Whit a madman.”