The Highlander's Secret Maiden: A Scottish Historical Romance Novel

by Lydia Kendall

  “Get off me! Help! Someone!” she screamed.

  He clamped a sweaty palm over her mouth to stop her from yelling out any further, increasing the force in his grip so that she couldn’t move of her own free will.

  Let me go you disgusting excuse for a man!

  He began dragging her forcefully out of the dungeon-like prison she’d been kept in for the past couple of days. It could have been a week, but it certainly felt like forever. Oh, I long to see the sun and the outside world once more.

  As scared and alone as she felt, she refused to let it show. You haven’t broken me, you haven’t broken me. She clung to this mantra, trying to convince herself more than anyone else. If I break down in front of him, then I lose any sense of dignity that I have left.

  As he marched her out and up a set of dusty stone steps, the brightness of the morning light blinded her after spending so long in the dark. She blinked continually, her eyes trying to adjust to this sudden change, but it was such a relief to finally breathe fresh air.

  “Right, so you’ve got your wish, I moved. Now I demand to know what your intentions are,” Georgina said firmly. Maybe if I look like I’m co-operating, by not trying to struggle or argue, he’ll give me some answers.

  He chuckled, “Awfully full of demands for a prisoner, you are.” They kept walking. Georgina didn’t recognize where they were. It was the countryside and the land was mainly flat, which suggested that they were no longer in the Highlands. Aside from that, they could be anywhere.

  “If I’m your prisoner, then that suggests you’re punishing me for something,” she stated. “I would like to know what it is I’ve supposedly done.”

  “Or perhaps you’re valuable enough to get the attention of some powerful people, missy,” he retorted. It was in a matter-of-fact way but there was a hint of amusement in his tone.

  “So, you’re using me as bait?” She fired back.

  “I suppose you could say that,” he said, “my brother wants to do things properly, take you back down South and hand you over to Bolton’s men for a so-called reward. Me, I don’t reckon the officer can be trusted. Besides, I’m certain we can get more out of him than the measly sum he’s offering.”

  Georgina paused to take in what he was saying, trying to make sense of it all.

  “I’ve done one better. I’ve got a ransom on your head and made it clear to both Morgan Bolton and Conall McGowan that whichever one of them shows me the money first can have you,” he finished, a hint of pride sounding in his voice.

  “Great, so you’re selling me off to the highest bidder,” Georgina said, careful not to give away any emotional response until she could figure out a plan. This is good. Conall knows where I am, which means Marcas must too. He’ll come for me, I know he will.

  “I suppose so, indeed, you’re not just a pretty face, are you?” he replied.

  “So, I’ve been told,” she retorted, her voice like ice. She wanted to punch him. He was just like her father and Morgan, turning her into nothing but a business arrangement.

  In the light of day, she got a proper look at the man who she’d only heard so far. While undoubtedly rough around the edges, he wasn’t nearly as horrible as she’d pictured in her head. His ragged clothing and unwashed aroma suggested he was down on his luck and making a desperate decision with this plan.

  It was certainly better than waiting to be handed back over to Morgan Bolton. She had to play this carefully though, if he thought that she was content with this in any way then he might do something rash.

  If only I can convince him that targeting Conall would be the much better option. Perhaps if I can figure out where exactly we are, then I can calculate who’s most likely to get here first.

  “How are they going to know where to find me then?” She asked, keeping her voice casual.

  “Oh, I’ve sent word, darlin’,” he snarled back.

  “Surely if you make it too difficult then you’re only delaying the chance to get your money.” She stated, watching him contemplate her words before straightening out his expression again.

  “Don’t you worry, you’ll no doubt have a knight in shining armor coming to your rescue soon enough,” he responded. “Right, that’s enough chit-chat, up on the horse,” he commanded, standing by the side of a horse and gesturing for her to mount it.

  She stood still, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at him. “Tell me where we’re going,” she demanded.

  “Look, you can either cooperate or I’ll be blindfolding you and tying you up to this horse so that you can’t move a muscle. Either way it’s happening,” he retorted, hands twitching toward the length of rope he had looped around his belt.

  There was no way she was having this dirty, lowlife tie her up and force her to come with him.

  “No need,” she shrank away in disgust, “I’ll come with you.” She suppressed a shudder as he bared his filthy yellow teeth at her in a smile, swatting his hands away as she pulled herself up and over the saddle.

  “Somebody’s clearly been spending time with the Laird,” he commented, “Most ladies of your stature don’t have the knack nor the strength to get up there all on their own.”

  “Well I’m not most ladies now, am I,” she retorted, sick and tired of being talked down to.

  He merely chuckled in amusement and got up on the horse behind her. His proximity to her made her gag.

  Oh, get away from me, you filthy, rotten brute. Think, Georgina, you can do this. It’s only until Marcas comes for you, which he will. I’m certain of it.

  “Any funny business and you’ll pay for it, darlin’, you hear?” he hissed in her ear, holding something solid and sharp against her side as he threatened her.

  She gasped, her heart rate spiking and fear shooting through her. “Yes, I hear you,” she choked. Perhaps she was wrong not to be scared of him.

  As they traveled across this unfamiliar expanse of countryside, he kept up a tirade of commentary in her ear.

  “So, who do you reckon will come to your rescue first? My money’s on Bolton. The man has the whole weight of the British Army at his command after all, plus more wealth on his side,” he voiced.

  “Or perhaps it will be Conall McGowan. Lairds are bloodthirsty and menacing, after all, I can just see them all now, charging down here in a fit of fury.”

  “Then again, Bolton must be furious at McGowan for snatching you up from right under his nose. I doubt he’ll want to risk being the loser once more,” he continued.

  “How do you even know what happened?” Georgina asked, finally irritated enough by his chattering to bite. He was certainly several classes lower than she, how would someone like this know all the details of what happened at the Earl of Aylesford’s wedding? It’s not like he could possibly have been a guest.

  “Word gets around, love,” he said, “it made quite the scandal it did, the whole region is talking about it.”

  Still it doesn’t explain how you knew where to find me, plus had the capacity to blackmail both Conall and Morgan.

  “I saw me an opportunity. You see, I may not look like much, but my brother and I were once proud members of the British Army. Sadly, our family got into debt with Bolton due to falling behind on the rent. You see, he was also our landlord,” he continued.

  “He struck us off without pay and we were evicted from our home. Ever since, he’s been making our lives impossible, bad mouthing our names all over. Of course, once he announces that you’re a good for nothing git, everyone takes notice. This here is my last chance to turn our lives around.” Georgina listened to his story, almost feeling sorry for the man.

  This is Morgan all over, asserting his dominance over the lives of this family when he easily could have shown empathy. Of course, that would imply that he has any humanity buried underneath his cold exterior.

  “That certainly is an unfortunate turn of events,” Georgina said, choosing her words carefully and feeling her previous spark of hope plummet. This surely means
he’s more favored toward Morgan than Conall, meaning we must be travelling further south toward England.

  “Unfortunate,” he scoffed, muttering to himself.

  Perhaps I could just jump off this horse and run.

  The reality of that would hardly be any better though. I don’t even know in which direction to run and if I were to escape, then Marcas and Conall would have less of a chance to be able to rescue me if they weren’t able to find me. I’d only be doing myself a disservice, with no guarantee of food, water or shelter out in the unknown open.

  As grim as it was, she was stuck with being an amiable prisoner, humoring this man’s conversation and musings. He must be lonely if he was so willing to open up to her like this. Then again, it’s not like I have the power to use any of this information against him. I don’t even know the man’s name.

  Finally, they arrived at his intended destination. Georgina frowned in confusion, “Where are we?” she couldn’t help but ask.

  They’d stopped outside a large building which looked to be bustling with activity. There was nothing around it for miles apart from trees and an expanse of green lawn out front, and the place itself had a sinister look about it, largely due to the bars on the windows and the ugly brickwork.

  It didn’t make sense. If he is holding me prisoner, then why would he bring me somewhere so public? Unless…no…

  “This here is Greyfriars Sanatorium. A women’s insane asylum.” He announced.

  Georgina felt sick to her stomach. “No, no, you can’t do this. Please, I’ll do anything, take me back to the dungeon, chain me up, anything but this,” she begged, her resolve to stay strong was over in that one moment.

  She’d heard awful stories about insane asylums, people being chained, beaten and tortured by water. It all seemed like the stuff of horror tales, something that could never possibly happen to her.

  “You have no grounds or authority to commit me, who’s going to listen to you?” she yelled out.

  “On the contrary, I do indeed have the power to do just that,” he said as he began stripping off his outer layers of shabby clothing, to her horror, revealing a clinical-looking uniform underneath. “And there are numerous possible reasons for committing you: lunacy, women’s troubles, hysteria. All too easy to believe given the state of you,” he said calmly, looking her up and down.

  Georgina felt terror consume her, a fear she’d never experienced before. She looked down at herself, she was still wearing her nightdress that she’d been captured in that night. It was now stained and dirty from the time she’d spent locked up in that dirty underground place and from not having the opportunity to wash or tidy herself up.

  She dreaded to think what she must look like, having not had the opportunity to see her reflection all this time. The reality of his words sunk in, hitting her hard and causing unwelcome tears to rise up in her eyes.

  “Please,” she begged, “you can’t do this to me,” her voice was thick with emotion. What kind of monster was this man?

  “Oh, I think you’ll find I can. There is nowhere more secure: barred windows, chains and guarding ‘round the clock. There are doctors tasked with ensuring you are kept safe and locked up, and I will be able to keep an eye on you too,” he explained, his voice cold and unfeeling.

  “Besides, no-one will be able to find you here. You see, you are expected under the name of Sally Compton, so even if any rogue rescuer were to come asking, there would be no record of a Miss Andrews here at all.” She let out a sob as his words sunk in, unable to see a way out.

  Panicked, she looked about her to find the best direction to try running in. Maybe if I could distract him for just a moment, that would give me the opportunity to get out of his grasp and make a run for it. Perhaps I could deliver a punch to incapacitate him.

  “There’s no point trying to run,” he said, as if he’d read her mind, “That’ll only make you look crazier and make a case for having to restrain you,” he smiled as he spoke, clearly having calculated every last detail of this plan.

  There was no hope, none whatsoever.

  Nevertheless, her survival instincts kicked in. I am not just going to stand by meekly and let this brute lock me away in this hellhole.

  He glanced away from her direction for just a moment and she seized her chance. Swinging her knee upwards with all her might, she crashed into his groin and he yelled out in pain, releasing his grip from her arms and bending over in a ball, a stream of profanities tumbling out of his mouth.

  She took off running without a moment’s hesitation, heading for the trees as fast as her feet could carry her.

  Come on, come on. Her mind was a blank blur as she focused on nothing but putting as much distance between her and this horrific fate as she could.

  Thundering footsteps and yells sounded out behind her, but she didn’t stop to turn around. No no no, I HAVE to get away. This cannot be happening to me.

  Suddenly, her breath was knocked out of her as a heavy weight struck her in the middle of her back, sending her flying and landing with a thump on her front. “Aha, got her!” an unfamiliar voice shouted out in victory and she heard several more sets of footsteps running to catch up.

  He twisted her arms behind her back and picked her up in a practiced fashion, binding her hands whilst another equally burly man held on to her other side. She could no longer stop the tears from cascading down her face, blurring her vision as the three men forcibly dragged her to the entrance of the asylum.

  Oh, Marcas, Conall, please come for me.

  Please.

  Chapter 13

  It had been some time since Georgina had been thrown in this godforsaken place against her will. How much time had passed, she had no idea, for her world had become foggy and bleak ever since.

  In the beginning, she was filled with terror all the time, at the men who locked her away in a cell, with no windows or any way to reach the outside world. She heard the screams and shouts of the other patients, the sound of pain and suffering traveling through the halls.

  At first, she assumed that these people must be the truly insane, that she was the only one here under such barbaric circumstances, but she soon came to realize, as she listened closely, that perhaps these women weren’t so different after all.

  Nobody would believe her when she stated that her real name was Georgina Andrews, that the horrible man had thrown her in here for his own gain and given a false name to keep her hidden. They also refused to entertain the story of her capture, telling her to be quiet and calm down.

  She soon learned that the only way to survive in this place was to be silent and appear to go along with instructions. After all, who was going to believe the hysterical girl in her nightdress and covered in dirt?

  It probably looked like she had escaped from another institution just like it; especially after she tried to flee from the man who made out he was trying to help her.

  It was of no use. The only power she had was internal — to hold on to who she was and why she was here and have faith that Marcas would come for her.

  A loud clacking sound alerted Georgina to the fact that someone was opening the door to her cell. This horrid, windowless room could be described as nothing else. The walls were bare and there was nothing but a hard, uncomfortable bed, a bedpan and a chair inside of it.

  “Here ye are Miss,” the nurse announced as she entered with a tray of what looked to be food.

  Whatever this is it smells vile and looks even worse. Georgina wrinkled her nose as the woman brought it close to her.

  “You need to eat,” she commanded, glancing at the chart she held in her hand, eyebrows raised critically.

  Am I going to be ticked off for misbehaving if I refuse to eat this disgusting slop?

  Instead of ignoring the nurses, like she usually, did, Georgina straightened up and reached out to take the tray from the nurse’s bony hand. “Thank you,” she said.

  Picking up the fork to find the least repulsive place to start, she s
nuck a quick glance at the nurse, who was enthusiastically noting something down on her chart.

  So, here’s my chance to prove I don’t belong in here.

  She began to eat, trying to imagine that she was at the dinner table with her father, entertaining guests and enjoying a luscious stew or a freshly baked slice of pie.

  Urgh, urgh urrghh. No fantasy on earth could disguise how vile this grey mush is. It’s like they’ve mashed up the remains of whatever was left in the kitchen into one big slab of muck.

  “Someone will be along soon to collect the empty tray,” the nurse said as she strode across the room to leave, barring the door behind her as she left.

  It wasn’t long before someone else entered, only this time the face was familiar.