by Alisa Adams
Rodric was a full head taller than Adaira, and her face was inches away from the hard planes of muscle that bound his bare chest. She had her fists clenched together at her bosom, and her eyes traveled up across his chest, past his wide shoulders and strong neck, across his square jaw and up to his face, which was now stubbled with three days’ growth of beard. Her gaze lingered on his lips, and despite the peril, the fleeting thought came to her that his was a full and sensuous mouth, not at all like the rest of his hard warrior’s body.
A poet’s mouth, she thought. Or a lover’s...
His hands were on her shoulders, their firm weight a comforting, steadying presence. A small part of her recognized that despite his size and proximity, she was not at all frightened of him; how unexpected!
All this happened in less time than it takes to blink. In the corridor outside, the hard tread of Hamish’s footfalls approached the prison door. Rodric's eyes met Adaira’s for a moment, then he thrust her downwards and reached out to quickly pull the hatch shut.
The latch! she thought. The latch on the food hatch is not locked! Oh, I pray that Hamish will not notice! Then she glanced around wildly for somewhere to hide.
With little to choose from, Adaira dived toward the corner of the cell behind the door. Even if Hamish decided to open the door and come in, there was at least a chance that the open door would conceal her. She crouched, flattening herself against the wall.
“Well, Montrose, how are ye this fine evening? Comfortable?” Hamish was gloating, but there was also a note of fear in his voice. Rodric had taken up his position facing the door, his hands on his hips, legs spread wide apart so that he looked as big as he possibly could.
“Oh, grand,” he said sarcastically. “Three days without food or water, no sunlight, and your guards taunting me through the door because they do not dare to come and challenge me to my face. Aye, I am grand.”
“Mind yer tongue, ye cursed rebel scum. Count yerself lucky that ye have been spared at all. Bread, ye say? There are men in this castle who would sooner see ye on the point of a sword than see ye take bread.”
“I’d like to see them try it,” Rodric taunted, puffing out his chest. “Send ten men. Everyone who wants to have a go at me would need to come through that door, and they could only do it one at a time. I’d pull their heads off their bodies before I’d let them touch me!” He took a sudden step toward the door, and despite the solid wood and the iron grating between them, Adaira heard Hamish take a step back.
“Nae doubt, nae doubt,” said Hamish, “but that kind of talk will get ye nowhere. Ye shall have food and water when ye learn tae keep a civil tongue in yer head and no’ before. Now keep quiet and don’t make trouble, and I might see fit tae bring ye some food myself in the morning.”
With that, the captain turned on his heel and walked away.
Adaira breathed out a long sigh of relief. Rodric stood at the door a little longer, breathing heavily, his face pressed against the grate, and his bunched fists pressed against the wood of the door.
“Damn the man,” he muttered, then struck the door with his fist so hard that it trembled.
“Rodric,” she whispered after a moment. He jumped back from the door as if he had been stung, then turned and looked at her. The expression on his face was terrifying, but as he looked steadily at Adaira, it softened and he smiled.
Out of nowhere, with a suddenness that took her completely off guard, a vivid image flashed through Adaira’s mind. She saw herself standing on tiptoe, her mouth pressed against his, bracing herself against his great chest. She could feel his big, work-calloused hands against her back, the gentle strength in his great arms. She imagined the heat of his breath on her neck as he murmured sweet words into her ear.
Then he spoke, and with equal suddenness, she was back in the present. She stood with her back against the wall, facing him where he stood in the middle of the room, a questioning look on his face.
“What is it?” he asked quietly. “Are you not well?”
“I...that is, yes, I am well,” she stammered. “I got a bit of a fright, that’s all.”
“I’m sorry,” he apologized clumsily. “I suppose I can be a frightening sight when my blood is up. I nearly forgot you were there, so intent was I on that man.” He bunched his fists and gave a fierce frown, but this time she was not frightened.
“That’s certainly true,” she said, smiling slightly and glad that he had given her another, simpler reason for being flustered. The raw power of the thought that had filled her mind scared her a little. She wondered what it would be like to kiss him. He was a fighting man, but she was beginning to suspect he had a very gentle side. Surely, he had a wife of his own back in his father’s lands? Still, she could not help wondering what it would be like.
Again, he brought her back to herself with his words. “Lass, you should go,” he said softly.
She nodded. “I’ll go out the hatch,” she said.
A little unsteadily, she walked over to the hatch and pushed it open. Before climbing through, she turned back to look at him. He had reached a hand toward her but drew it back suddenly.
“What is it?” she asked, alarmed.
“I...you have not told me your name,” he said. He seemed embarrassed, even a little shy.
“Adaira,” she said, smiling. “I was named after my mother, who is long dead.”
He nodded. “Adaira,” he repeated, as if tasting the word. “Adaira. What a lovely name. Well, thank you. Will I see you again?”
“I’ll do my best to come back,” she promised, and slipped out through the hatch.
The next day, in the gray light of the early morning, a messenger arrived at the gates of Castle Dunn. He was an old, gray-bearded man, riding a tired horse. He came into the courtyard and nearly fell from his saddle.
“Wake up, mistress,” said Maudie urgently, shaking Adaira by the shoulder.
“What is it?” Adaira grumbled sleepily. “The sun has not risen yet.”
“There is a man down in the kitchen demanding tae see the clan chief. Hamish has put him off, but he is angry an’ upset. I dinnae know who he is, but I think ye should go down an’ see him as quick as ye can.”
“What is he?” asked Adaira, hauling herself out of bed. “A soldier?”
“I dinnae think so. The servants are saying he is a common villager. Come on!”
The castle was just beginning to stir as the two women, after dressing hurriedly, made their way down through the cold stone corridors and stairways to the great kitchen. Once there, they immediately found the man they were looking for. He stood stiffly by the door, his damp and torn cloak wrapped around him, and a look of hurt and pride on his face. When he saw Adaira enter, his eyes focused on her and he took a step forward.
Hamish was there, and he stepped up to place a restraining hand on the man, but Adaira held up her hand in a gesture of restraint, and Hamish stepped back a pace, letting the man approach.
“What can we do for you?” Adaira asked the man curiously.
“Ye are the lady of the castle?” he asked her, before answering.
She nodded. “I am Adaira Strachan, Mistress of Castle Dunn. What can I do for you?”
“Ye can give me justice,” he said, in a loud, carrying voice. “Me and my folk have been cruelly wronged. Your brother an’ his army came past our village, heading northwards intae the Montrose lands. Our young people an’ our women came out tae greet them and cheer them on, but before we knew what was happening, he and his soldiers came marching right intae the village.
“A great number o’ men marched in and raided our granaries and food stores. Last year's harvest was a poor one, as ye will know, and yet we dae not mind supporting Duncan and his troops. But then one o’ his men took a liking tae one of the young women in the village. When the lassie’s husband complained about this, he was knocked down.”
The atmosphere in the kitchen was very tense and angry. Everybody was listening to the man's stor
y, and Hamish was looking increasingly uncomfortable, as if he wished he could have kept this conversation private.
“Ye can, I'm sure, guess what happened next. The mood became ugly. Some o’ our people, including the elders of the village, came out and tried tae reason wi’ Duncan and his men, but Duncan just laughed. Once they had cleared out every morsel of food and drink they could find, someone set fire tae an empty barn. Thank God Duncan led his army away then, and our womenfolk were left unmolested, but the fire spread, destroyin’ three houses and damagin’ two others. Duncan Strachan may be the laird o’ these lands, and perhaps he is defending us from the Montroses, but I tell ye frankly that many men from my village and other neighboring ones are speakin’ o’ pledgin’ allegiance tae the Montroses after this.”
“This is terrible!” said Adaira, horrified. “What can I do to make it right?”
“Send men and supplies tae my village, mistress,” he answered immediately. “Help us to rebuild. I am nae traitor tae the Strachans, but yer brother must dae better if he wishes tae keep the loyalty of his people. We willnae be treated like this.” His old eyes glittered fiercely.
If it had been possible, Hamish would have resisted this demand for men and supplies, but in front of everybody in the kitchen, servants and guards alike, Adaira immediately granted the old man’s request. Hamish had no choice but to scurry away and see to the arrangements.
Later, back in their room, Adaira had been staring at the window, thinking about the situation when she glanced up and found Maudie looking at her consideringly, with a small smile on her face.
“What are you smiling at?” she asked. “There doesn't seem to be much to smile about.”
“Oh, I was just thinkin’,” said Maudie. “Ye took charge o’ that situation very well. The kitchen folk and the servants saw the justice in what ye did. Ye probably did a great deal o’ good for the reputation of the clan there.”
“Thank you, Maudie. I'm glad to hear that, but it is not enough. My brother’s actions seem to be leading more and more swiftly to the destruction of our clan. What is our clan without the loyalty of the many villages on our lands? If they begin to turn on us, well...”
Maudie nodded. “What will ye do, then?” she asked.
“I think I must go and talk to Rodric again,” said Adaira. “Perhaps he will be able to see some way of avoiding war that I cannot.”
“Will ye go into his cell again?” asked Maudie. Adaira had, of course, recounted her adventure in detail to her friend when they had met up again the night before.
“I think that would be safest, don't you?” Adaira asked.
Maudie gave a knowing smile. “Oh, aye, I think that would be safest. For ye, at least.” She shook her head in disbelief. “Ye know, it really is strange. Here we have a whole castle full o’ seasoned soldiers and battle-hardened old men who dinnae dare open Rodric's door tae try tae give him a knock on the head. And yet ye, a lassie of barely nineteen years, are actually safer inside his cell than out of it. He must have a tender heart inside that fierce warrior’s body.”
“You know,” said Adaira thoughtfully, “I think you may be right.”
6
Choices
“Rodric,” she hissed through the door. In his cell, Rodric Montrose was dozing on his hard bunk. One arm pillowed his head, the other lay across his belly. When he heard her voice, he sat up, glancing warily towards the door.
“Who’s there?” he asked, suspiciously.
“Shh, it’s me, Adaira,” she replied.
“Adaira,” he whispered, and moved over towards the door. “Thank goodness you have come. When you did not come last night, I feared for you.”
She had tried to come the night before, but Maudie's favorite guard had the night off. His replacement was a sour-faced old veteran, and they thought it more sensible to wait until they had a better chance of safety. Now, Maudie and her guardsman sat together in the window alcove as usual, and Adaira had been able to slip confidently down the passage and round the corner. Under her arm was a bag full of food.
“Can I come in through the hatch again?” she asked.
Rodric smiled. “Be my guest,” he said, wryly. Adaira slipped the catch and pushed the bag of food through the hatch before scrambling through herself. She managed it rather more gracefully this time, having dressed in more suitable clothes, and when she stood, dusting her hands down her dress, he was standing in the middle of the cell with his arms folded across his chest, regarding her intently.
“So, you have come to visit me again?” he asked. “Thank you for the food. Are we safe from the guards tonight?”
“Aye,” said Adaira, “I think so. My maid distracts the guard. In fact, I think they are becoming quite fond of each other. And Captain Hamish is preoccupied with other matters. He will not be along for a tour of inspection tonight. We have a little time.”
Rodric nodded, and picked up the food bag, regarding its contents appreciatively.
“Come,” he said, “let us sit with our backs to the door here. Then, even if somebody comes and looks in through the wee window, they will not be able to see us.”
She saw the sense in this and made herself as comfortable as she could, sitting on the cold damp floor beside the door. For his part, Rodric leaned his back against the stout wood and began to eat hungrily. After a few minutes, he took a deep draught of water from the bottle she had brought him and turned to look at her. He took a breath, but she spoke before he could.
“We must talk, you and I,” she said. He nodded, and she took a breath, before explaining what had happened the day before. She told him more than she had intended to; about her brother’s raid on the village, the messenger, and her fears that Duncan’s actions would cause the many little villages on the Strachan lands to give up their loyalty.
“I understand your fears,” Rodric said after he had taken a moment to think about it. “I will not deny that such a situation might be desirable for my clan, but it would almost certainly lead to a bloody civil war within your land before we could claim victory. Many innocent people would lose their lives, too. Clan Montrose wants to end the war and will do so by military force if necessary, but we have no desire to rule over a land wracked by strife and suffering.”
“I fear that my brother’s actions will make that the only possible outcome to this situation,” said Adaira miserably.
Rodric looked uncomfortable for a moment, then said, “There is another possibility.”
“What’s that?” she asked, interested, but also a little afraid.
“Well, the other possibility is that my father will defeat or draw off your brother’s army in the field, then march quickly here to Castle Dunn and take it. That would be the end of your clan, but also the end of the war. It is my belief that this is what is most likely to happen.”
“But surely,” said Adaira, “your father would fear to lay siege to the castle, right in the heart of the enemy lands?”
“Is it not the case that this castle is very poorly guarded?” He looked at her keenly. “Only a small garrison remains here.”
She looked at him, shocked. “Well, yes,” she said, “but how do you know that? And how could your father know? Surely he will think the castle very well defended still?”
Rodric looked more uncomfortable than ever. He took a bite of bread and chewed slowly, giving himself time to think before replying. After he swallowed, he said, “No, lass, my father will not think that. I probably shouldn't say this to you, but I suppose it can do no harm now. The fact is that my father had placed several spies here in Castle Dunn. The second night that I was imprisoned here, one of them managed to come here and speak to me. I gave him orders to take one of his companions and immediately ride out to meet my father’s army to bring him the news of how poorly guarded the castle is. If I know my father, he will seek to use his advantage as quickly as possible.”
Adaira stood, suddenly, as the consequences of this came crashing down on her. Rodric's
father, a much older and more experienced military commander than Duncan, would take full advantage of Duncan’s idiocy in leaving the castle so poorly guarded. The army of the Montroses would take the castle easily, subjugating the last stronghold of Clan Strachan. In such a scenario, her clan would almost certainly cease to exist as anything but a footnote in history.
“But this means,” Adaira said in a choking voice, “that there is no hope of a peaceful resolution to this conflict. How can there be? Oh, this will mean the final destruction of my clan!” She turned on him with an accusing stare.
“Keep your voice down!” he hissed at her. Then he held his hand out in a helpless gesture. “What could I do? We are at war, Adaira. My clan has tried other means and been rejected. Do not fear for yourself. I will not forget how you have helped me. If it were not for you, these soldiers would have starved me to death by now. Once all is over, I will see that you come to no harm and that you are granted some honorable position afterward.”
“Honor?” she growled furiously. “What honor can there be for me as the last daughter of a beaten clan?” As suddenly as her temper had flared, all anger left her. Tears started in her eyes. Without thinking, she stepped towards him and he stood, reaching out to her.
“I am sorry, Adaira,” he breathed, as he put his arms around her. Tears rocked her, and she cried silently for a minute or two, her cheek resting against the rough woolen weave of his plaid. After a moment, she leaned back from him and looked up into his face.
“Oh, Rodric, this is so strange. I...” She trailed off. There was a look in his eyes that caught and held her gaze. For a long moment, time seemed to stop. Then he lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her with firm gentleness. It was her first-ever kiss from a man, and his lips were unexpectedly soft as they caressed hers tenderly. Adaira could not believe it. Surely such a big masculine man would be rough and impatient?
