Highland Captive

by Hannah Howell

  She wondered if love was what had kept guilt and shame away. It had been there from the start, had simply been too new to recognize. She had so easily accepted his absurd bargain because the seed of love had already been planted and had begun to grow within her.

  The sadness came from the fact that he did not share her love. He desired her, and she did not think it was vanity that made her so certain that he liked her as a person. It was not love, however. He gave passion and friendship while she gave him her soul. It was not the fairest of trades and not one to make any woman happy. Unrequited love was all the poets claimed it was she decided.

  Her real pain stemmed from the knowledge that it must end. Once her ransom was paid, she would be sent home, home to marry Rory Fergueson. She could not believe that Parlan could stop that as he claimed he could. Holding Parlan a little tighter and smiling when he murmured her name in his sleep, she stoutly vowed not to think of what was to be but only of what she was enjoying at the moment. She would wallow in her love without a thought to the morrow.

  Chapter Ten

  “Elfking is a verra smart horse.”

  “He is a verra contrary beast.” Parlan, leaning against the fence watching Aimil feed the stallion an apple, fought a smile as he added provocatively, “Just like his mistress.”

  “Because he willnae let ye woo him doesnae mean he is contrary.”

  “Ah, ye have caught me.” He made no attempt to deny her accusation, saw no reason to do so.

  “Aye, though I was slow to do so. I said, “Nay, Parlan wouldnae be so sly.’ Then ye said that sly thing to my father.”

  “Sly am I?”

  “Aye, a bit. Verra clever with words ye are. What ye say is the truth and lulls a person, stopping their questions, but ‘tis not the whole truth.”

  “Here I am thinking I am being charming and gallant, wooing ye and your beast and ye call me sly.”

  She sent him a mock glare, struggling not to laugh at his crestfallen expression. “Give it up. Dinnae ye have aught to do this day aside from pestering me?”

  “Aye. Actually, I do. I must leave for the Dunmore keep soon.”

  “Ye are taking Catarine home?” She tried hard to appear casually interested.

  “Nay. She claims she needs time to ready herself before she travels to the court at Stirling.”

  He could not hide his smile at the annoyed expression Aimil could not disguise. It pleased him to see the hint of jealousy and possessiveness in her. He knew there was more to it than that, however. Catarine was annoying. If she was any but a Dunmore and his sense of hospitality any less, she would have been tossed out on her ear a long time ago. Instead, she lingered, accosting him at every turn and filling Aimil’s ears with poison, making far too much out of one evening of lust. It was fortunate that Aimil did not let jealousy turn her shrewish. He hoped it would not take Catarine much longer to realize that she could not gain her obvious objective of replacing Aimil in his bed and to see that he had absolutely no interest in her. Aimil might have the strength to tolerate the woman, but he was rapidly losing all patience.

  “I will be gone twa days, mayhaps three.”

  Pleased by the expression of distress that fleetingly passed over Aimil’s face, he idly wondered if she knew how easily read she was. She could shutter her expression, but more often than not, not fast enough. He had quickly learned to keep his gaze trained upon her face when he said anything, for in that first brief instant was the chance to glimpse her real reaction to whatever he had said.

  “I see.” She told herself that she was glad he would be gone for a while and did not believe a word of it.

  Quietly drawing nearer to her, he mused, “Aye, there will be talking, dealing, drinking...”

  “Wenching,” she muttered.

  “Nay,” he said softly, and kissed her ear, meeting her start of surprise and resultant scowl with a smile. “None for me. I must give the poor, wee fellow a rest. Ye are so greedy.” He sighed. “I fear t’will be worn out before its time.”

  “I am greedy?” she squawked, turning to look at him in outrage.

  Moving so that she was caught between him and Elfking, who now tolerated Parlan completely, even if the horse still did not let Parlan ride him, he drawled, “Weel, mayhaps I am nae so temperate meself. Of course, ye being such a comely lass...”

  “What are ye after?”

  “Now, lass, just because I try to speak sweet words to ye and to cuddle some...”

  “It isnae that exactly, but there is an air of wheedling about ye.”

  He grinned, not the least bit disturbed by her suspicions, but then said quietly, “I have a fierce desire to ride Elfking to the Dunmores. I am thinking I would look verra fine and impressive arriving on such a mount.”

  “Ye look verra fine and impressive riding on Raven.”

  “Aye, but they are used to the sight.”

  She rolled her eyes in disgust over his lack of modesty, but he grinned. Even while indulging in that nonsense, she was thinking hard. He would look impressive upon Elfking, his darkness a perfect foil for Elfking’s pure white form. It would be a sight the Dunmores would not soon forget. Unfortunately, despite her efforts not to be suspicious, she could not believe that his only motive.

  “Is that your only reason?”

  “Ye wound me with your mistrust.”

  “I doubt that. Ye have been working verra hard to woo Elfking away from me. Dinnae try to deny it. This may be but another ploy.”

  “Nay, ‘tis not that.”

  “Ye really wish to be grand-looking before the Dunmores?”

  “Aye. It never hurts to have your allies see ye as a wee bit bigger than life.”

  He watched her frown in thought as she stroked Elfking’s neck. A twinge of guilt assailed him for, although he had not lied, he had not been completely truthful, just as she had accused him. Advancing his cause to win the horse was ever there but did not prompt his request. He would be gone, out of her bed. Without the bonds of passion holding her, she could well try to slip away. There was a far less chance of her attempting escape if she would have to do it without her precious horse. Inwardly, he grimaced recognizing that increasingly, he found himself jealous of the animal’s place in her affections.

  Aimil stroked her mount and tried to order her thoughts. No matter what Parlan’s reason for wanting to ride Elfking, once he was on the mount’s back, she suspected it would be hard to remove him. She was sure he knew that once Elfking was made to accept him as a rider there could be no going back. The horse could not be made to understand that something was only temporary. To let Parlan ride Elfking could well be the first and irrevocable step to giving him the horse.

  She realized suddenly that that no longer troubled her. Elfking was important but no longer all important. What would make Parlan happy was dear to her. As she turned to look at Parlan, she wondered a little nervously if he would read all that was behind her gesture. He would know as well as she did that once she bade Elfking to let him ride, she was, in most respects, giving him her horse, her most prized possession. It was a gesture that could mean a lot or could be rash. Although she did not want him to think her foolish, she decided that, under the circumstances, it would be better than having him guess the state of her heart.

  “Aye, ye can ride Elfking to the Dunmores.”

  Parlan struggled not to embrace her heartily so exultant did her gesture make him feel. She might be unaware of what lay behind her act. Too exuberant a reaction could be seen as a triumphant display for getting nearer to possessing the horse not her heart. That was not an impression he wished to give her so he simply smiled.

  “How do we go about this then?”

  “We must ride together first.”

  Tossing her up on the horse’s back, he said, “Let us be off then.”

  “Ye are verra eager,” she drawled as he carefully mounted behind her.

  “What man wouldnae be over the chance to ride such a magnificent beast and”—he
nuzzled her neck making her giggle—“with such a bonnie lass to wrap his arms about.”

  “Humph. Ye are verra sweet of tongue when ye get your way.” As they rode out of the gate, she cast him a sly glance. “I may be luring ye to a lonely spot where I plan to stick a dirk between your ribs and then be off.”

  “Malcolm wouldnae stand for it.”

  Looking in the direction he indicated, she saw Malcolm and Lagan trailing a discreet distance behind. “They truly dinnae think I would ever do such a thing, do they?” She was a little offended at that sign of mistrust.

  “Nay, but there are some about who would sore like to.”

  “Husbands most like.”

  “Ye do see me as a rogue.”

  “Are ye not then?”

  “Nae as great a one as ye think, I am certain. Are we on an old woman’s ride then, little one?”

  “Ah, ye want some speed, do ye? Then ye shall have it.”

  He laughed as she spurred Elfking into a gallop. As he rode with her, he was acutely aware of her skill, of how at one she was with her mount. He doubted that there were many other women who could ride as well as she. It was something he deeply admired.

  So too did he deeply admire the horse they rode. His guilt over his ploys to gain her stallion would have been greater except that he grew more certain each day that Aimil would remain at Dubhglenn. It would be a sharing of her horse that he acquired, not full possession. He grew as eager to make Aimil a permanent part of Dubhglenn as he had been to make Elfking a permanent part of his stables.

  The ride was short for she did not want to tire Elfking. It was a relatively long ride to the Dunmores. So too was she certain that Parlan would wish to experience Elfking’s full potential while he held the reins. She reined in at a small clearing.

  “Here is as good a place as any for your maiden ride.”

  “Are ye sure he willnae toss me to the ground?” he asked as she slowly dismounted.

  “Nay. This is how I got him to allow Leith upon his back. To get him to toss Leith, I must order him to do it. ‘Tis a way to discourage strangers. If ye had mounted alone, ye would have found yourself sprawled in the dirt but because I have let ye on with me then left ye on, Elfking willnae object to ye. Weel, go on then. Ride away.”

  Hearing the reluctance in her voice, he smiled. He bent down, grasped her chin, and pressed a brief kiss to her slightly pouting mouth. Then, because he could no longer wait to take his first ride, he spurred Elfking on, leaving Aimil behind.

  Aimil stood watching them disappear and sighed. He did look magnificent upon Elfking. They were two strong yet graceful male animals. She simply wished she did not feel as if she was always giving but never gaining. Forcing away such depressing thoughts, she smiled at Lagan and Malcolm as they rode up to her. She wished that they did not look so sympathetic. It made her fear that her feelings were all too easily read.

  “We willnae have to go and find where your beast has tossed him, will we?”

  “Nay, Malcolm.” She smiled a little. “Ye may have to search him out to remind him that he has work to do though.”

  Parlan had to remind himself sharply of the plans he had made. Reluctantly he reined in, sitting and gazing around at his lands briefly before returning. He also savored the feeling of sitting astride one of the finest pieces of horseflesh he had ever seen.

  “She isnae slow of wit, Elfking. She kens what she has done. I just wonder if she kens the why of it.”

  He continued to think about that as he returned to collect her. They rode back to Dubhglenn in relative silence. He then shooed her away so that he could see to Elfking’s rubdown and order the preparations for his journey. It did not really surprise him to see Malcolm lingering for the man had never approved of his plans to gain the stallion.

  “So ye finally got your arse on the back of her horse.”

  “Aye, Malcolm. I mean to ride him to the Dunmores.”

  “Ye will make a fine show.”

  “We will that.”

  “She has given ye a verra fine gift.”

  “She has. ‘Tisnae a gift though but a sharing.”

  “Ye dinnae mean to keep the beast in your own stables?”

  “Aye, I do, but I mean to keep his mistress in my own private stable as weel.”

  “So ye have decided that, have ye?”

  “I think I would be a great fool to let this one slip away.”

  “Weel, I wouldnae be saying so,” Malcolm drawled, slowly grinning.

  “Mayhaps not, but ye have been thinking on it. Nay, the thought entered my head that first night and hasnae faded, only grown to a conviction. She will make a fine lady of Dubhglenn. I will see to that when I return from the Dunmores.”

  “Are ye taking that bitch, Catarine, with ye?”

  “She willnae go. She claims she prepares to return to Stirling.”

  Malcolm made a sound of scornful disbelief. “She means to fill the wee lass’s head with poison about ye.”

  “Aye, I ken it. She has been trying that since she got here. I cannae toss her out though. ‘Tis my hope that Aimil will trust in all I have said on the matter and recall where I have spent all my nights despite Catarine’s lavish invitations. T’will come to a test of trust. Keep a close eye upon the Mengues.”

  “I cannae stop twa lasses from fighting.”

  Parlan laughed. “Nay, my thoughts veered without warning. Watch for an attempt to escape.”

  “Ye think she will try?”

  “On her own, mayhaps not. I should like to think she would be reluctant to leave me. So too will I have her prized Elfking. Howbeit, her brother lingers here and may spur her on. He cannae ken what I have decided. The plan he and I first talked of has taken too long to work, and I cannae blame him if he thinks I play him for a fool.”

  “To take her home is to take her to Rory Fergueson. He willnae do that.”

  “He will no doubt have many a plan to keep her out of Rory’s grasp. He may even think to bestir me in some way.”

  “So why dinnae ye tell him how ye be thinking?”

  “I have no time to do it right now. Just keep a verra close eye on the pair. They are canny brats,” he muttered as he strode out of the stables and headed for his chambers within the keep.

  Aimil watched Parlan pack and tried to act as if she did not care that he was leaving. It was not an easy pose to hold. The only good she could find in it all was that Catarine was not going with him, but then she wished heartily that Catarine was going somewhere.

  He had jested about having no need for wenching but that was no calming vow of fidelity. There was no reason for him to give her such a thing as she was but a captive for ransom who was convenient to serve his needs. Since she doubted that the Dunmore keep was without women, there would assuredly be ones there offering to warm his bed. There were no doubt past lovers there eagerly awaiting his return. She could not confidently envision him refusing a willing woman and that hurt.

  “Ye are looking a wee bit dowie. Going to miss me?” Parlan sat down on the bed at her side.

  “I am merely fretting over Elfking. He has never gone anywhere without me,” she huffed.

  “Weel...” He grinned as he pushed her down onto the bed, gently pinning her beneath him. “I think I best leave ye something to remember me by.”

  “Ye cannae mean to do that now?”

  “Och, lassie, ye are always saying I cannae and I must show ye that I can.”

  Aimil forced a scowl to her face as she struggled back into her clothes. “Ye are a rogue, Parlan MacGuin.”

  “Aye, I ken it.” He laughed and neatly avoided her attempt to hit him. “Thought ye ought to have a proper fareweel.”

  “That was far from proper. Who goes with ye?” she asked, not truly interested but feeling a need to keep talking.

  They kept talking until he was mounted upon Elfking and ready to ride out. Parlan knew it would have soothed her troubled feelings a great deal if he would tell her how tempted he w
as to take her with him. He resisted the temptation, however, for that could easily cause more trouble than it solved. Until he openly declared otherwise, she was a prisoner for ransom and should stay at Dubhglenn.

  Before all, he gently kissed her farewell. He knew she would not understand what the gesture meant to the ones watching. If there was a man at Dubhglenn who thought to take advantage of Parlan’s absence, he would now think again. Parlan would not take such a public and fond farewell of a woman who was no more to him than a prisoner for ransom and a convenient vessel for his lusts.

  As he rode away, he told himself not to take it to heart if she did try to escape. She had no reason to believe that she was anything more than a prisoner no matter how well-treated she was. Even Leith, despite the discussions they had had, could not be sure that Parlan could or even would do as he had said he would. Leith could well think it his duty to free Aimil and end any further extortion of his father. It would be easy enough for Leith to make Aimil see it as her duty too. Until she was offered more than a place in his bed, it was her duty for she certainly had no cause to feel that she owed him any fealty or even that he wished it of her.

  Suddenly he wished he was back at Dubhglenn and not forced to visit the Dunmores. Parlan saw that he might well have erred in waiting so long to decide what he wished to do about Aimil. For once he might have been too cautious.

  Although he tried not to recognize that there was a chance that she and Leith could escape, he knew they were clever enough to succeed in such a venture. He would then have to find a way to get her back. A direct approach would gain him nothing for she was still promised to Rory Fergueson until that man either revealed his true self to Lachlan Mengue or repudiated Aimil. Parlan realized that by being so wary, he could well have let himself in for a great deal of trouble.

  He also recognized that he could do nothing about it until he returned from the Dunmores, a visit he was now intending to make as short as possible. It was suddenly imperative to settle things between himself and Aimil. As soon as he returned to Dubhglenn, he would arrange an appropriate setting and let her know that she was no longer simply his prisoner and lover.