by Willa Blair
Jamie liked the notion of getting Caitrin out of the MacGregor keep by sending her to the village with one of MacGregor’s women, along with Uilleam and himself as escort. If MacGregor insisted on some of his men accompanying them, so be it. A few MacGregors would hardly be an impediment to Jamie’s plans.
Another Lathan could follow with Fletcher later the same day, and the rest of his men could slip out as they found opportunity to do so during the same period. With a great deal of luck, the fact they were all out of the keep would not be noticed for hours—long enough to get Caitrin to safety and lay some false trails.
First things first, to secure a safe hideaway for Caitrin.
Fletcher’s cousin’s croft sat low against a hillside, topped by the heavily thatched roof typical of many Highland holdings against the incessant wind. The man who came out of the stout oak door to greet them bore little resemblance to his cousin. “Ho, Uilleam, what news?”
“Little has changed,” Uilleam answered succinctly, passing him the Fletcher’s letter. “Meet Jamie Lathan, who escorted Lady Fletcher to MacGregor at Fletcher’s request.”
“Lathan.” The cousin nodded affably.
Jamie dismounted. “’Tis good to meet ye, Rabbie” he told the man. Jamie judged him to be older than Fletcher by a few years, but the croft appeared well-kept—by a wife or daughter? “Do ye live here alone?”
“Alone, aye, since my wife passed a few years gone. My son rides with MacGregor’s men. Malcolm. Perhaps ye met him at the keep?”
“I have had the pleasure,” Jamie confirmed. That was a stroke of luck. Malcolm had already shown his willingness to protect Caitrin. He would, no doubt, assist in getting her away from Alasdair to his father. On the other hand, in the confusion of their absence, would the MacGregor notice Malcolm had also disappeared and put two and two together? That would bear consideration, especially if MacGregor knew of the kinship bonds between Malcolm, this man, and Fletcher.
“Come in. I’ve a bit of bread and cheese to go with a wee dram, if ye’d like.”
The interior of the croft was, thankfully, divided into a main living space, a separate sleeping area and a shallow loft. If Caitrin had to bide here for a time, she could have some measure of privacy.
After they settled, Rabbie cocked an eyebrow at Jamie. “Pleased as I am to see Uilleam so soon after his last visit, I do wonder what brought ye here.”
“We’ve come to ask sanctuary for Lady Fletcher.” Jamie watched Rabbie carefully to gauge his reaction, but he seemed genuinely concerned.
“Why would the lass need sanctuary here when she’s well guarded in the MacGregor keep?”
Jamie glanced at Uilleam, who shrugged. It was up to him to explain the situation. “Fletcher’s letter should answer most of yer questions. Caitrin is no’ safe there. I believe we will have to remove her, without the MacGregor’s permission, for temporary safekeeping.”
“What about my cousin Fletcher?”
“He’s agreed to the necessity, whether he leaves with his daughter or no’,” Jamie told him. “Caitrin has been attacked and confined. No matter Fletcher’s ambitions for that marriage, he has realized it’s no’ worth his daughter’s misery or her life.”
“Indeed? As bad as that?” Rabbie looked around the chamber.
Jamie followed his gaze to the hearth where a cook pot hung. The table where they sat and the chairs they occupied, along with a corner cabinet full of dishes, cups and other odds and ends, occupied the rest of the space.
“I’ve little to offer a lass, but if ye think she’d be safe here, then she’s welcome.”
“’Twould be for a short time, a few days at most. I plan to move her out of MacGregor’s reach as quickly as possible.”
“I hope ye ken what ye risk.” Rabbie lifted his cup in a mock toast.
“I do.” He cut his gaze to Uilleam, but the man remained as impassive as a log. “We do.”
The cousin shook his head. “I havena seen the lass since she was a babe in her mother’s arms, God rest her soul.”
“When we must, we’ll bring her the best way possible. We may arrive at any time.”
“Dinna fash. I rarely stray far from the croft these days. Likely I’ll be here or nearby.”
“Good.” Jamie tossed off the rest of his whisky and stood. “We’d best be getting back. I thank ye for yer hospitality and yer willingness to help keep Caitrin safe. With luck, the MacGregor will never ken she was here, so ye willna be disturbed when she’s gone.”
“Aye, that’ll be good.”
Uilleam stood and exited the croft ahead of Jamie. He glanced skyward and nodded. “We’ve plenty of time to work our way south and come to the keep from another direction. If we do a bit of hunting on the way, none will remark our absence.”
Jamie’s horse stood patiently as he mounted. “That’s sound thinking.”
With a nod to cousin Rabbie, he headed away from the croft, Will at his side.
Chapter Seventeen
Caitrin did her best to hide her trembling as she stood before Alasdair in his solar at dawn the next morning. Guards waited outside the door, and the fact that she’d just heard Malcolm’s voice out there gave her some small measure of comfort. If MacGregor forced her to scream, he might come to help her, though he would risk his laird’s displeasure or worse. But where were Jamie’s men? He’d promised they would keep her from Alasdair’s clutches. Did they know where she was? Even if they did, now that she was here, what could they do about it?
Alasdair had simply regarded her from his relaxed position, leaning back in the seat behind his desk, since she’d been brought to his lair. His stare made her nervous, but she had no doubt he intended just that. If he got her off balance, he might think to startle a confession from her. She kept her gaze off the tapestries or anything else in the room and firmly on her hands clasped before her.
Finally, he sat forward. “It pains me to confine ye, Caitrin,” he began. She kept her gaze on her hands, refusing to react, no matter that his voice, pitched uncharacteristically soft and low, had startled her. “I’ve found nothing disturbed, yet I feel in my bones ye did more than watch the moon from yon window.”
Caitrin refused the bait and did not look at the window. She remained silent and still. What was he up to?
“Have ye naught to say? No’ even to defend yerself?”
At that, she ground her teeth and met his gaze. His smile unsettled her further, but she stiffened her spine. “Ye didna believe me days ago. Why would ye believe me now? I’m no’ in the habit of wasting my breath.”
“So ye willna confess.”
“Confess? Confess what? I told ye what happened. I canna make ye accept the truth when ye hear it.” Caitrin held her breath. Had she said too much? Did she sound too aggrieved, or not enough? Years of sensing how others lied had given her a repertoire of tone, expression, and movement, but she was not always sure what worked in a particular situation.
Alasdair remained seated, sprawled back and smiling.
Caitrin’s skin crawled. She didn’t like the smile and wondered what he hid behind it.
“Ye ken I can ruin ye? For any other man? Will ye spend yer life alone, unwanted?”
She merely held his gaze. It seemed she’d missed the mark. Alasdair remained on the offensive.
“And then I can ruin yer da. Yer clan. Or ye can tell me what ye were doing in here. What does Fletcher want?”
That startled her into an involuntary lift of an eyebrow. She hoped Alasdair missed that small telltale sign, but when he got to his feet, she knew he’d seen it. She stood her ground on quaking knees as he rounded the desk and grabbed her by the upper arms. “What advantage does he hope to gain? Marrying ye to me is no’ enough?”
“Ye have imagined a threat where there is none,” Caitrin replied, certain her tension-induced trembling would be obvious to him.
“I’ve imagined naught,” Alasdair growled and shook her. “Or is it Lathan ye serve? I’ve seen the way J
amie Lathan looks at ye. And ye him. Hardly fitting behavior for my betrothed.”
Caitrin tried to break free of his grip, but she quickly regretted her mistake. Apparently, he’d been waiting for just such defiance.
“So let’s begin, shall we?” he whispered as he pulled her closer to him and bit her ear.
Pain washed through her, inciting her anger. “Nay!” Ach, when would she learn? Fighting him would only feed the beast within him. She thought she was in for another beating. But as he started to fumble with her clothes, she realized he intended to make good his threat to ruin her.
She tried to push him away, but he spun them and backed her into the desk, then shoved her down so hard she saw stars when her head cracked against something on the surface. She felt a cool wetness on her neck. Blood? Or had she hit the inkpot? It didn’t matter. He held her down with his upper body while he fumbled one-handed to pull up her skirts. She kicked as hard as she could, forcing him to trap her legs to protect himself, which meant he couldn’t yank her skirt any higher. But he managed it, rolling her onto one cheek and getting a hand inside her clothes.
Up to now, she’d fought him silently, with only gasps signaling her displeasure, but she had to stop him, and she could not do it herself. She gasped to get a lung full of air then screamed.
Alasdair’s ear was right by her mouth. She hoped she’d deafened him. He reared back and removed the hand from under her skirt—but only to slap her, rocking her head to one side. She inhaled. Again he pressed his weight on her chest, suffocating her, so the scream came out as more of a squeak.
“Aye, lassie. Fight me. Ye ken I like it that way. Should I release yer hands so ye can scratch and claw?”
His taunts increased her anger.
“Nay, I think I’ll keep the cat’s claws away from my face.”
He jerked and she heard cloth tear. Her skirt!
“But do continue to struggle. I enjoy mounting a bucking mare.”
She got one leg free and kneed him. She wasn’t sure where—thigh or groin or gut—but his grunt told her she’d hit something.
“Very good,” he praised her, earning him a kick to the back of his leg that probably barely registered. “Ye are spirited, I’ll give ye that.”
“Get off of me!”
“Or what? What will ye do to me? Tell yer da? Then the priest will be called all the sooner.”
With a sinking heart, Caitrin realized the truth of that just as the door burst open.
“MacGregor!”
Oh, God! Not Malcolm. Jamie! He’d found her! Caitrin tried to shove her clothes back into place as Alasdair lifted off her and turned to face the one person who had dared to burst in when she cried out.
“As ye can see,” MacGregor snarled, “yer presence isna welcome here.”
“What I see is ye mauling a defenseless woman.”
“So what? I’m to marry her. I’ll do with her as I please.”
“No’ yet, ye willna.”
Caitlin froze as Jamie’s stance shifted from shock to battle ready, hands at his side near the hilt of his dirk. “She isna yers, and even if she were, ye havena cause to treat her that way.”
MacGregor laughed, but he lacked any hint of mirth. “This is none of yer business, Lathan. I suggest ye leave, now, before I put an end to yer meddling.”
“Caitrin, come with me,” Jamie said quietly.
“She stays here.” MacGregor’s tone made it plain he was unused to defiance. His hand hovered near his dirk.
Caitrin leaned on the desk as she moved clear of both men. If they started fighting, one of them would die, and she greatly feared for Jamie’s life. Without him, hers would not be worth living, especially not if MacGregor had her. “Jamie, I’m well. Please. He is my intended. He’s allowed some…liberties.”
Jamie’s frown grew fiercer, but out of the corner of her eye, she could see her words were having the desired effect on Alasdair. He’d taken a step back and his arms hung loosely at his sides.
“Come away, Caitrin,” Jamie repeated, but softer, as if he understood she hoped to lower the tension in the room. “Ye both need some time to cool off.”
To her very great surprise, Alasdair agreed. “Aye. Go to yer chamber. I’ve had my fill of ye, today. We’ll speak again tomorrow.”
Caitrin fought to keep the frown off her face as she glanced his way, confused by another of his sudden mood shifts, then nodded and left the room, Jamie hard on her heels. She would not miss a chance to make her escape from Alasdair’s clutches.
****
As he followed Caitrin out of MacGregor’s presence, Jamie’s gut twisted harder than it ever had. He paused to make sure the door to the solar shut firmly then he caught up with Caitrin. Keeping his voice low, he demanded, “What game are ye playing?”
She stopped in her tracks, but didn’t turn around. “What do ye mean?”
Her tone of voice told him nothing about how she reacted to his question. He continued speaking through clenched teeth. “Back there. He’s yer intended, so he’s allowed some liberties? Beating ye and half-raping ye?” He could feel his control slipping even as he fought not to shout at her.
Still she did not turn to face him. “I thought ye understood. I was saving yer life.”
Her words were spoken so softly, he barely heard them, but when their meaning penetrated, disbelief drained all the heat from his body. “What?”
“He wouldha killed ye for interfering.”
Not a chance. “He couldha tried.”
“Ye forget,” she said and turned to face him.
The tatters of her torn skirt whirled around her legs, giving Jamie a heated and heart-rending glimpse of her thigh, but her expression chilled him.
“I could feel the truth in his words. He was ready to kill ye where ye stood.”
Sudden shame hollowed his belly. This wasn’t about him. His anger was for Caitrin. Not at her. For what she’d been through. What MacGregor had almost done to her. Jamie took her in his arms. “Look at ye, lass. He attacked ye, and ye have the strength to worry about what he might do to me?”
Caitrin pulled from his embrace and backed up a few paces, wide-eyed. “Not here. If he comes out and sees ye do that, nothing I can say will stop him.”
“Ye canna believe...”
“I ken it.”
The lass was determined, he’d give her that. “I’ll walk with ye to yer chamber, then. I dinna wish for any other man to accost ye.” He glanced at her torn skirt.
She tilted her head and eyed him, as though considering refusing his escort, but she said, “Verra well. I dinna ken where the guards who brought me went. Or Malcolm. I thought I heard his voice.”
“Malcolm took them away when I arrived, probably to keep them from interfering.”
They proceeded in silence, Jamie thinking furiously, weighing alternatives as they went. He suspected Caitrin simply didn’t wish for their voices to attract any attention as they moved through the MacGregor’s halls, but if she thought they’d finished talking, she was wrong. When they reached her door, he opened it for her, but remained outside, decisions made. Now if Caitrin would only do as he asked. “Pack anything ye canna do without and be ready. I will come for ye late tonight. Ye canna remain here any longer.”
“My da…”
“I’ll speak to him. But right now, be about getting ready to leave. Ye are in danger, and ye are putting yer da, me, and my men in danger, as well. This has to end.”
“What if Alasdair…?”
“Kyle will be outside yer door until I come for ye. He’ll be armed.”
“Is he better than Alasdair?”
“I hope we dinna have to find out. Latch this door and open it only to me or Kyle.”
Jamie didn’t wait for her agreement, simply closed the door and fetched Kyle to stand guard, then went to Fletcher.
“’Tis time,” Jamie told him without preamble. “MacGregor attacked Caitrin again. I saw it with my own eyes. If ye dinna believe her,
believe me. He isna a fit man to be husband for yer daughter.”
Fletcher dropped his face into his hands. “What have I done?”
Sympathy bloomed warm in Jamie’s chest as he finally heard genuine dismay in Fletcher’s voice. “Ye tried to find a good man for her and an advantageous ally for yer clan. There’s nothing wrong with that. Nor with admitting ye made a mistake.”
Fletcher lifted his head and glanced around his chamber. “We must leave immediately.”
Jamie couldn’t argue with that, though Fletcher’s sudden capitulation surprised him. “We will.” Why wait until tonight? “Caitrin is gathering what she needs. Ye must do the same, but stay here until one of my men comes for ye. Kyle is at her door against more trouble. Dinna go looking for MacGregor. I dinna intend to leave any hostages behind.”
“How will ye get her out?”
“With the help of one of MacGregor’s men. We’ll meet her in the village and leave from there. Bring only what ye can carry. Ye’ll be walking to the village.”
Fletcher nodded. “Go do what ye must.” He moved to the table behind him and picked up a document. “First, I must burn this.”
Something in his voice told Jamie what Fletcher held. “The betrothal agreement?”
“Aye.” Fletcher hesitated.
With his back turned, his expression could not help Jamie determine what was going through his mind. The longer Fletcher studied the document, the tighter Jamie’s nerves wound, disbelief warring with the urge to cross the room and rip it from the man’s hands. “Ye didna sign it after what he’s done the last few days?”
“I signed it days ago, before the boar hunt.” Fletcher finally looked up from the document and turned to face Jamie. “MacGregor had already signed it. I thought he behaved as an eager bridegroom would. Nothing more than that.” He flinched as Jamie started toward him. “He hasna seen it,” he stammered, “and doesna ken I’ve signed it.”