Highland Captive

by Hannah Howell

  An uncustomary sense of nervousness, almost uncertainty, came over him. Even the fact that he was riding to the Dunmores on Elfking did not banish the unease he felt. For the first time in his life, he was planning to offer a woman more than a brief time of pleasure. Parlan wryly admitted that it was not going to be as cut and dried a matter as he had thought. Now that he had made the decision, he easily forsaw complications. Telling himself not to look for trouble did not really stop him from doing it.

  Riding into the Dunmore keep on Elfking caused all the excitement he could have wished for. He found himself wishing that Aimil was at his side, she on Elfking and he on Raven. There was no doubt in his mind that such a sight would have impressed the Dunmores as much if not more. He was determined to show them such a sight on his next visit, a visit to introduce the mistress of Dubhglenn.

  Being careful not to cause offense, Parlan nonetheless made it clear that he was making only a short stop. He used the situation concerning the Mengues as a reason for the haste he displayed. Since the value of such captives was recognized without explanation, the excuse served him well.

  Several women made it clear that they would be more than willing to fill his bed, but he paid them no heed even though a few of them had pleasured him well enough during past visits. He found himself feeling slightly ashamed of his past. It occurred to him that he had been greedy and without restraint. Wincing inwardly, he wondered if there would be any place he could take Aimil where there would not be some woman or women whom he had bedded. He had enjoyed far more than his share and was suddenly not very proud of it.

  Lying in his bed, he found that he missed Aimil. For nearly four months they had shared a bed. He now found that he hated sleeping alone. Even when they had slept back to back, not wrapped in each other’s arms, it had been comforting to know that he had only to turn over and to reach out to find warmth, loving, or simply someone to talk to. He decided a bed without Aimil was something he would do his best to avoid in the future. He wondered, even hoped it was so, if Aimil found an empty bed as distressing as he did.

  Aimil sighed with heartfelt despair as she crawled into Parlan’s large bed. Even if she did not love him, it would have been nearly impossible to find someone able to fill his place. The absence of a man like Parlan made for a very empty bed.

  She could not help but wonder if the bed he now slept in was as empty as hers. It was hard to think he would refuse a bed partner, and she had no doubt that there would be some available. His appetite was far too large to go hungry voluntarily.

  Cursing, she turned onto her stomach and forced her eyes shut. It might have been easier to fool herself into thinking that he would be faithful if she did not have Catarine’s poison seared into her mind. What confidence she had gained was consistently eroded by Catarine’s venomous words despite all her efforts to ignore the woman. A little spitefully she wished Catarine joy of her own empty bed. The woman seemed to be the sort who would find an empty bed too much of a deprivation to endure for long.

  “He hasnae been to see me since he ordered the flogging,” Artair groused as he watched the scantily-clad Catarine move to the window.

  “Ye erred in touching his precious Aimil,” Catarine snarled. “B’Gad, I am fair sick of that child. ‘Tis her innocence he likes. That is all.”

  Artair did not think so but was wise enough not to say it. He was healed enough to be eager for a woman, and Catarine’s presence in his chambers plus her alluring attire indicated she would be willing to accommodate him. It would not be wise to raise her ire. Her particular skills in bed were well known, and he intended to do nothing that would stop her from giving him a sample. In Catarine’s case he knew that Parlan would not have any objections to Artair’s tasting what Parlan had already enjoyed and had so firmly and clearly set aside.

  “Weel, she will soon be back with her kin and wed to Rory Fergueson. They are betrothed.”

  “Parlan means to stop that wedding.”

  “So I heard, but I cannae see how he means to do it. She isnae a MacGuin he can rule and order about,” Artair countered.

  “Nay, but neither is she kept under lock and key,” Catarine said slowly, her look thoughtful as she turned to face Artair.

  Distracted by his own inner discord, Artair was not at first aware of the air of plotting Catarine exuded. “Nay, she isnae. In a lot of ways she is near to a guest.”

  “That could be ended at any time,” she mused aloud. Nearing the bed and thinking that, although he was young and not the man his brother was, Artair was not one to be tossed aside especially when she was so hungry for a man.

  “What do ye mean?”

  “Just that Parlan has never been one for constancy,” she said as she sat on the bed.

  He did not believe her. Even as she leaned toward him and he eagerly met her kiss, he finally sensed her plotting. Her animosity toward Aimil was no secret. That she would plot against the girl was entirely possible.

  Despite his own troubled and confused feelings concerning Parlan, Artair could not shake his loyalty to Parlan who was not only his brother but his laird. It was now painfully clear to him that Aimil Mengue was more to Parlan than a wench to tussle with. As he debated whether he should speak of his suspicions to Parlan upon his return, Catarine’s skilled hand reached between his thighs and put the matter out of his head.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Loving, I can understand why you would like to stay.” Leith looked at his crestfallen sister with honest sympathy.

  “Aye, there are the reasons ye are thinking on but there is also Rory.”

  Leith sighed and sat down beside Aimil on Parlan’s bed. He was torn two ways. Parlan was a man of his word yet nothing seemed to be getting done. Time passed without sight or word of Rory while his father struggled to fulfill ransom demands that Parlan swore had only been made to gain time. And Aimil was falling more in love with a man who made no visible effort to make her any more than his bed-warmer. If nothing else, perhaps if Aimil was taken from him, Parlan would decide he wanted her back—as his wife. It was past time to make some decisive move and escape was all Leith could think of.

  “I will do all I can to keep ye from being wed to him.”

  “But is all ye can enough?”

  “That I do not ken, but I swear upon our mother’s grave he will never have ye, Aimil. I will help ye flee and hide ye if all else fails. I will try all else first but I will do even that if I must.”

  “Oh, Leith, that would put ye against our father.”

  “In this I am already set against him. ‘Tis time to cease being silent about it and take action.”

  “Parlan said he would stop the wedding.”

  “Aye, and I want to believe him. I do believe that he means to, but what can he do? What has he done? Each day that passes brings the ransom closer to being paid in full. He swore to me that the ransom was made so weighty so that he could have time to stop the marriage.”

  Although that surprised her, Aimil added softly, “Yet the marriage is still planned and the ransom gathered.” She shook her head. “Nay, I cannae believe that he plays us for fools. He is an honest man.”

  “So I believe, dearling, yet I cannae let Father hand the man a purse that will leave us paupers because I cannae face the fact that I could be wrong. There are times, Aimil, when trust becomes a risk too great to take, and I begin to think ‘tis one of those times. Ye could be wrong. Feelings for the man could blind ye,” he added softly.

  She rose from where she sat on the bed and agitatedly paced the room. “Aye, they could. I think ye have guessed more than I wish ye to. Yet, as those feelings may blind me, they also make me sicken at the thought of wedding Rory Fergueson.”

  “I swear to you, sweeting, ye will never wed Rory.”

  “‘Tis our duty to try to escape,” she murmured, hoping that by repeating that she could convince herself of it.

  “Aye, because of the ransom and because of what he is doing to ye. There is no honor f
or ye in this arrangement. If he would but offer to wed ye...” he began.

  “I will wed no man for honor’s sake.”

  “Ah, loving, many is the man that speaks of honor but is wedding a woman because he wishes to.”

  “Mayhaps.” She sighed. “I cannae stay only because I wish to.”

  “Nay. Because ye are his captive, there are many who will pay little heed to the bedding of ye. If ye stay of your own will, ye are agreeing to the arrangement and that is when all will think ye but a whore, or most all.”

  “I ken it.” Her mind cringed at the very thought of it. “When do we leave?”

  “This night. I wished to go last eve but I needed to be certain of the best place to slip away through. It took longer than I had thought. ‘Tis a weel-guarded place. Even the place I have found is watched but nae as keenly as others. Also, less time is needed to go from one place of cover to another then out beyond the walls.”

  “What time do we try this then?”

  “After the evening meal. We will retire as always and, as soon as the place quiets for the night, we will be gone.”

  She smiled when he kissed her cheek, but her smile faded quickly when he left. Leaving was the very last thing she wanted to do. All of Leith’s reasoning was perfectly sound. There was no arguing with it yet she desperately wished that there was. Once she was back home, Parlan would never get near her again. She could not even feel sure that he would try.

  There was also the possibility that, if he did hold some feelings for her, her escape would hurt him. He would probably understand what drove her to it, but emotions could be irrational things. She knew that all too well. No matter how solid her reasoning, there was no ignoring the fact that she was escaping not only Dubhglenn but his bed. She did not relish delivering that dart. She could almost wish that he held no more feelings for her than a healthy lust.

  Shaking her head, she sought to disperse such thoughts. She needed to convince herself of the need to escape, of the rightness of the action. To view the unpleasant even painful side of it all would weaken her and she needed strength.

  It proved difficult to keep up a facade of normality during the evening meal. Aimil found herself almost glad of Catarine’s presence and her continued acrimonious talk. It kept her thoughts from dwelling on how soon she would be gone from Dubhglenn and Parlan. So too did it give others a reason for her less than cheerful mood. They no doubt felt that she was simply angry with or tired of Catarine.

  As she waited for Leith in Parlan’s room after they had retired, Aimil thought on Catarine and wished she had not. The woman would heartily welcome a vacancy in Parlan’s bed. Aimil did not feel confident that since she had left him of her own free will, Parlan would suffer an empty bed. She felt sick over the thought of him with other women, especially Catarine. It was enough to make her determination waver, but then Leith arrived.

  “Ready, love?” he murmured, his gaze soft with understanding as he recognized her distress.

  “If we must.” She sighed.

  Grasping her gently by the shoulders, he said, “We must try, Aimil. If the man cares for ye, he will come for ye.”

  “I am betrothed to Rory.” She did not really want to cherish too many hopes concerning Parlan for it would only hurt her more when they came to nothing.

  “Then Parlan will end that betrothal as he said he would. He can do that be we at Dubhglenn or at home.”

  She nodded and allowed herself to be led from the room. It was tempting to look back but she resisted. Now was the time to look ahead and to concentrate upon the business of escaping. Memories and regrets could come later. She was sure that she would find herself heavily ladened with both when she finally gave them free rein.

  Moving through the shadowed halls of Dubhglenn, she was a little surprised at the laxity of the guard. Soon after that, she grew insulted. It appeared that the men felt Parlan had her well and firmly shackled to the bed. That a woman would try to escape the Black Parlan’s arms was a possibility they plainly considered a remote one. In what she knew was a rather contrary and perverse way, she decided she was going to enjoy proving them all wrong.

  Slipping out of a little-used door into the bailey, she and Leith pressed their backs to the wall, taking full advantage of the shadows while they surveyed the strength of the guard. Here she noted that it was far more in evidence even though the men’s attentions were mostly turned away from the keep. She realized that slipping through the keep had been the easy part of their plan.

  “Where do we head, Leith?”

  “To the stables, loving. Between the wall of the stables and the curtain wall is a small space, barely enough for us to slide into. There is a small door in the curtain wall there. Getting to the stables from here will be difficult, but it can be done. When I cry “now,’ ye are to bolt over the open ground toward the curtain wall. Flat against it, ye will see the space.”

  Aimil felt her heart quicken with tense excitement. She held no fear for she felt sure that Parlan’s men would not harm her or Leith although there could be a few bruises forthcoming in their recapture. Despite her regrets and her desire to stay, there was a thrill in the thought of eluding Parlan’s men and escaping such a well-secured keep as Dubhglenn. She wished a successful escape did not mean an end to all she had shared with Parlan.

  When Leith hissed the signal, she moved with no hesitation. She had seen that he watched for that brief moment when the two guards who could have spotted them had their attention elsewhere. That meant not only stealth was needed of her but speed, and she produced all she could as she silently raced across the open space to the stables.

  Upon reaching the high stone wall beyond the stables, she clung to the cool stone and the safety of its shadows. It took a moment for her to espy the space Leith had spoken of. The shadows and its narrowness made it nearly invisible. Still clinging to the wall, she slid into the space, releasing her breath in a soft expulsion of relief when no outcry was made. She had made it without being discovered. Now she tensely waited for Leith to do the same.

  Her tension, accumulating as she waited for her brother, was released in a soft squeak when he finally reached her side. There had been no warning of his approach by sight or by sound. One minute she had been alone, in the next he was there. It took her several deep breaths before she quieted the furious pounding of her heart. Despite that, she felt proud of his skill.

  “Where is this doorway, Leith?” she hissed, eager to continue now that she had committed herself to the plan.

  “Slide along some and ye shall feel it.”

  It was several feet before her hand left stone and touched wood. “A bolthole, do ye think?”

  “Aye. T’was weel concealed with debris and there is but a wee walkway of rock between it and the loch that guards this side of Dubhglenn. A boat may have been tethered below or near. There is none now, but I cannae think any who fled by this route meant to swim the loch. It has been long forgotten, I believe.”

  “It could be a weak spot if ‘tis forgotten, a way for enemies to gain Dubhglenn.”

  “We will send your love word of it when we are safe away. I have no plans to make use of such a thing. Open the door, sweeting. By staying close to the wall, we can work our way round to the front whence comes another difficult part. There is a large open space between the walls of Dubhglenn and any cover. We shall have to bolt across and hope that some clouds arise to dim what light there is.”

  She forced herself to open the door. It required all her strength, and she pressed her body against it. Leith kept a grip on her in case she stumbled for there was no room for a misstep outside the door. She could easily be plunged into the loch. As she slowly worked the door open, she fought the urge to end the escape, to give into the temptation to return to Parlan’s bed and await his return.

  Parlan scowled when Elfking hesitated in his steady pace toward Dubhglenn’s gates. He had little patience for dealing with the spirited animal’s vagaries. Although he could
not stop himself, he felt foolish for driving his men so hard just so that he could reach Dubhglenn and a tiny lady one night earlier than planned. That the men suspected what pushed him only annoyed him more. Cursing when Elfking sought to turn toward the loch, he struggled to keep the horse on the road. Finally, he decided that he would waste less time if he allowed the animal his way for the moment.

  “Ride on ahead,” he ordered his men. “This fool beast has a fancy to see the loch and willnae be dissuaded. I have decided that, this time, t’will be easier to let him have his way.”

  “I will ride with ye,” murmured one burly man as he moved out of the group to ride at Parlan’s side.

  Rolling his eyes in exasperation, Parlan nodded curtly. It would be unfair to take his ill temper out on the man. Iain felt he was only doing his duty in insuring that his laird was well-guarded even so close to Dubhglenn’s walls. Although Parlan did his best not to gather too many enemies, he had enough to warrant the concern.

  A frown touched Parlan’s face as he allowed Elfking the freedom to go where he wished. The animal’s ears twitched, and his nose worked much as if he were a hound on the scent. Parlan’s curiosity began to outweigh his annoyance. He thought now that the horse was not simply being contrary.

  As the horse picked his way over the increasingly rocky ground, Parlan mused upon what had brought him hieing back to Dubhglenn. He honestly admitted that it was not only physical need. There was no doubt about his eagerness to bed Aimil again, but he was also eager to see her. He wanted to hear her laugh, to see her smile, and simply to talk to her. It was a source of some wonder to him to discover how thoroughly he missed her as a person and not just as a body that gave him pleasure.

  When Elfking’s steps faltered, Parlan dismounted. Something drew the horse to a place the animal would not usually go, and Parlan wanted to see what it was. He drew his sword and heard Iain do likewise. Although he could not fathom why the animal would approach danger so doggedly, there was always the chance that it was a threat the horse had scented, and it would be wise to be prepared for it.