Seduced By Her Highland Prisoner: A Scottish Medieval Historical Romance

by Alisa Adams

  Warmth and security enveloped her in that kiss. All else was forgotten for a moment, and her world shrunk to the confines of his strong embrace. Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the timeless moment ended. She jumped back, her hands held up as if to ward him off. He let her go immediately.

  “No,” she said. “No. I cannot. This is not right. I...I must go. Let me go.”

  He did not stop her. Instead, he stood back and out of her way as she rushed to the little hatch.

  “Wait,” he said.

  As if she had no will of her own, she turned and looked at him again.

  “There is one other thing we could do,” he said, quietly. She said nothing in reply but did not leave either. She waited for him to go on.

  “You could get me out of here. If I were free, I could return to my father and try to stay his hand. If he knew that everybody except Duncan desires peace, he may be willing to reopen peace talks.”

  That kiss had thrown Adaira completely. She had no more strength left to continue this conversation. Anyway, how could she help him to escape? It was impossible.

  “I cannot,” she gasped, shaking her head. Then she turned and pushed herself back through the door and out into the corridor.

  When she had made it back up to her room, she lay down on her bed, breathing heavily and trying to still her racing heart. After a while, Maudie came up to the room and found her.

  “What is it?” she asked. “What happened?”

  Through tears, Adaira told her everything. The kiss, the revelation about the spies, and finally, Rodric's request that Adaira should help him to escape in return for a promise of fresh peace negotiations between the clans. Maudie listened attentively to the whole story, nodding but not saying anything. Once Adaira had talked herself out, Maudie stood and moved over to their little table, where she poured a glass of wine and brought it back to her mistress. Adaira drank a little, wiped her eyes, and began to feel better.

  Maudie had paced a couple of thoughtful circuits around the room. Now, she returned and sat beside her mistress on the bed.

  “We could dae it, ye know,” she said slowly. “It wouldnae be impossible tae get him out of there. It seems very desperate, and yet if it is the only chance tae put an end tae this conflict which doesnae destroy the Strachan clan, it may be worth tryin’. For better or for worse, it seems tae me that fortune has placed this chance in yer hands, and if ye don't make the choice, naebody will.”

  Adaira was shaking her head.

  “How could I?” she said, shocked that Maudie could even have suggested such a thing. “It would be a monstrous betrayal of my clan. He is the enemy!”

  “Would it be a betrayal, though?” Maudie asked thoughtfully. “An’ would it no’ be worse tae dae nothin’, knowin’ that ye have this one chance tae stop a disaster fae happenin’?”

  The two women looked at each other for a long moment. Then Adaira let out a long, sighing breath. “What is your plan?” she asked.

  In the small hours of the morning, the new moon shone a pale, glimmering light through the narrow windows of the corridor that led to Adaira’s father’s room. Adaira herself was an inky shadow, dressed in black and moving silently towards the door.

  When she reached the door, she paused, listening intently for any sound of movement from within. When she heard nothing, she carefully turned the handle and slipped inside.

  In the room, the single window let a shaft of silvery-white moonlight in through a gap in the heavy curtains. Adaira could hear her father’s heavy breathing as he slept in his great bed at one end of the room. In a chair by his side, one of the castle healers was snoring gently. Adaira moved towards the wooden box, which sat upon an elaborate dresser at the other end of the room from the two sleeping figures. As silently as she could, she opened the catch and lifted the lid, revealing an array of little colored glass bottles. A quick examination showed her the one she wanted: a pale green glass bottle containing a powerful sleeping draught. There were many of these bottles in the box, and she suspected that one would not be missed.

  Adaira caught her breath when the glass bottle made a high-pitched clink against the neck of another as she lifted it out. She froze. There was a catch in her father's breathing, and the healer grumbled and turned in her chair. After a moment, the long breaths of deep sleep resumed from both of them, and Adaira let out her own breath in a heartfelt sigh of relief.

  She clutched the little bottle of sleeping draught in one hand as she hurried silently away back down the corridor towards her room. Adaira was far from convinced that helping Rodric to escape was the right thing to do, but now, at least, she had the option of carrying out Maudie’s desperate plan if it became necessary. She hoped something would happen to take the decision out of her hands, but her heart told her that there was little chance of that happening. It was as Maudie had said: for better or for worse, the fate of the clan rested in her hands. For better or worse.

  The next day, Duncan returned to Castle Dunn.

  7

  The Return of Duncan

  Duncan arrived in the morning. Adaira and Maudie were in the courtyard of the castle, and Adaira had been discussing with Hamish the arrangements for relieving the village, which had been raided by Duncan’s force when they heard shouting from the gate, and the hoarse blare of trumpets.

  “What is it?” asked Adaira of no one in particular.

  “I don’t know, but I must go,” said Hamish. “I beg yer pardon, mistress.” With that, he turned and headed off towards the gatehouse, shouting to two guardsmen who stood nearby to accompany him. He then pointed to another man. “Ye, wake up a’ the off-duty men out o’ their beds. Muster every man in the courtyard at once.”

  Amongst the sudden bustle of action, Adaira and Maudie remained unnoticed.

  “What shall we dae?” asked Maudie anxiously.

  “Let us go up onto the walls and see what is afoot,” answered Adaira.

  “Dae ye think it is the Montroses?” Maudie said breathlessly, as the two women ran up the wooden stairs that led up to the top of the castle walls.

  “Surely, it cannot be,” said Adaira. “It’s too soon!”

  “Hamish seems tae think sae, rallyin’ the men like that,” said Maudie.

  They reached the top of the wall and looked out over the field beyond. Immediately, it was clear who it was. Duncan was leading a ragged band of men on horseback across the open plain, which stretched out to wooded foothills in front of the castle.

  A little way behind him, Adaira could see Sir John MacCormick, leading a group of horse-drawn carts that contained both men and supplies. Some of the soldiers Duncan led had dirty bandages wrapped around their heads. Some had their arms in slings, and all looked disheveled and beaten. From the moment she saw them, Adaira knew that Duncan’s army had suffered some great defeat.

  The gates were thrown open, and the routed remnants of Duncan’s beleaguered army rode in, looking weary and broken. Adaira watched from the walls as Duncan dismounted, and Hamish approached him with a look of ashen horror on his face. His expression was justified; Duncan had ridden out to lead an army of nearly seven hundred men. Here, he was returning with less than one hundred. As Hamish began to speak with Duncan, Adaira could hear their conversation clearly from her position on the walls above.

  “Sir, what has happened?” asked Hamish without preamble. Duncan glared at him with disdain.

  “We were routed in battle by the Montroses,” said Duncan. “They laid a cowardly ambush and took us off guard, and my foolish men allowed themselves to be beaten by a force of inferior numbers. The Montroses are in pursuit. They will be upon us in a matter of days. We must gather everyone we have left and prepare to defend the castle.”

  Hamish looked horrified. “The...the whole army? Killed? A’ those men?”

  “No, no, you imbecile—captured, not killed,” said Duncan in exasperation. “Most of them, anyway. The cowards. It would have been better if they had died. Then, at least, the
y would have retained some honor.”

  Hamish glared coldly at the younger man, but Duncan did not seem to notice.

  “Get about your orders, man,” Duncan said. “We don’t have all that long before the cursed enemy is upon us. I will fight them to the death!”

  He turned, stripping off his leather gloves as he marched away, muttering and cursing to himself and shouting orders at servants who scurried off to bring bathwater and food to his rooms.

  Through the gate, Sir John rode with the first of the wagons, which contained the wounded men. Unlike Duncan, Sir John said nothing to anybody. He pulled his horse up in the middle of the courtyard and looked slowly around at everything. His eyes traveled along the top of the wall and found Adaira. His black eyes met hers, and the look he gave her put ice in her veins. She shuddered as she turned to her friend. “Let us get out of here,” she muttered to Maudie.

  “Aye, mistress,” said Maudie, and they hurried away. The eyes of the black-bearded man in the courtyard followed them relentlessly until they were out of sight.

  The morning passed in a flurry of activity. Adaira and Maudie helped to bring the wounded men into the castle infirmary, and in doing so they heard more about the ambush that had taken Duncan off guard. It seemed that he had ignored advice from more experienced men and had ordered his entire army to travel through a narrow pass in single file without sending scouts out first.

  “The damned fool,” grumbled one infantryman to the women as they helped him into a bed. “I’m only a simple guardsman an’ I could have told him it was a stupid thing tae dae. An’ this is what happened.” He gestured to his leg.

  “It will heal, though?” said Adaira, as the healer looked at the man’s leg.

  “Oh, aye, it’ll heal,” said the man, bitterly. “It’ll heal, but nae thanks tae Duncan Strachan.”

  Later that afternoon, they retreated to their own little apartment to refresh themselves. They were sitting opposite one another at their dining table finishing a light meal when Maudie spoke seriously to Adaira.

  “Ye must try tae convince yer brother tae parley wi’ Rodric or his father. It is the only hope for the future o’ the clan.”

  “Parley?” said Adaira with a disbelieving laugh. “Duncan, talk peace? He would rather see the whole clan go up in flames than give way to anyone. He would see negotiation as a sign of weakness. I don’t think his pride would ever allow it. He is mad, Maudie, and stupid. I do not think he has grown up properly yet. I fear to even approach him with the idea. And do you think Rodric would speak with him? After everything Duncan has done?”

  “We have tae try,” Maudie countered, her deep green eyes pleading. “As I see it, we must dae that, or we must accept the defeat an’ the death o’ the clan. Or, we must free Rodric.”

  Unbidden, the powerful memory of that kiss came back to Adaira. It had never really left her, but for a little while, she had been able to push it to the back of her mind. To free him...what would it mean? For her? For them?

  I cannot think of that just now, she scolded herself. She could not allow her confused feelings for the man to influence her judgment.

  “Mistress?” asked Maudie. There was a slight note of anxiety in her tone.

  “Nothing,” Adaira said, shaking her head, “nothing, Maudie. No, you are right. Hopeless it may be, but I must try. Come on, there is no time like the present.”

  Together, they left their rooms and headed down the stairs to where Duncan had his own personal quarters. The room from which he ran the castle was a lavish one, decked out with the best furniture available. Most of it was mahogany because he loved its color, and the handles and other fittings were gold plated. There was even a silk rug on the floor which had cost more than most of the villagers earned in five years. Fresh flowers were brought in every day.

  Adaira knew that very little of the work of running the castle and estate was done by her brother. She herself and the capable estate manager did all the work while Duncan, typically, took all the credit.

  The two women could hear raised voices as they approached the impressively carved wooden double doors which lead into Duncan’s domain.

  “Not once?” the young man was shouting. “Not at all? But my orders were very clear! The prisoner was to be taught a serious lesson every day until my return!”

  The door was a little ajar. A guard stood outside. As Adaira and Maudie approached, the guard looked at them and met Adaira’s eyes. With a pleading expression on his face, he shook his head almost imperceptibly. Adaira understood his meaning; he was telling her that it was a very bad time to be approaching Duncan. She nodded, showing him that she understood, and then stopped near the door and listened.

  From inside, she could hear the voice of Hamish, quietly trying to placate the furious young man.

  “Sir,” he said, “we tried, but it wisnae possible. I judged it best that we should keep him alive for the moment at least, to retain his value as a bargaining piece.”

  “A bargaining piece?” Duncan's voice was rising almost to a screech. They heard his fist banging on the desk. “I will never negotiate with the Montroses. I would rather die than bargain with them! You know that well, Hamish McMahon, and if you were not the only senior officer I had left in this place I’d have you publicly flogged just for suggesting it! Bargain, indeed. I’ll tell you how I’ll negotiate. Tomorrow morning, at dawn, I want that man brought from his cell to the main courtyard. Then, I want every person in the castle—young and old, injured and whole—to be gathered there to watch how I negotiate with Montroses.”

  “What will ye do, sir?” asked Hamish.

  Adaira could hear the evil smile in Duncan’s voice as he said his next words crisply and clearly to the captain.

  “I will cut off his head,” he said. “Then I will deliver it to his father.”

  Maudie met Adaira’s eyes, and at that moment they knew that all other choices had been taken away from them. They would help Rodric escape from his captivity, or he would be executed and they would face the inevitable destruction of the clan.

  That night, they waited until the castle was all abed, then they put their plan into action.

  Clouds covered the moon, and the night was dark. Adaira waited around the corner, listening as Maudie laughed and joked about Rodric’s execution with the guard. Maudie had brought him a tankard of ale, and the man had been grateful, knocking back half of it straight away, then taking the rest to the window seat where he sat with Maudie, chatting amiably to her.

  Waiting in the shadows, Adaira hoped very much that the stolen sleeping draught she had put in the tankard would not take much longer to work. She was on edge, her heart racing, but even as she listened she could hear the man's words becoming more and more slurred. A few minutes later, gaps began to appear in his words and after a few more moments he fell completely silent.

  “Mistress,” came Maudie’s voice, after a moment. “It’s done. He is asleep.”

  Adaira hurried forward, to find Maudie standing over the guard who was slumped in the window embrasure. He was snoring gently, with the empty mug dangling from his limp hand. Maudie looked a little regretful.

  “I feel that bad for deceivin’ him,” she said thoughtfully. “Not a bad fellow, really, an’ he thought I really liked him.”

  “No time for that,” Adaira hissed. “Come on! Where are his keys?”

  The guard’s keys were hooked onto his belt. It took a moment to get them off, and he stirred and grunted in his sleep, but he did not wake. As they turned to the corridor, they jumped as lightning flashed and a rolling boom of thunder seemed to shake the very foundations of the castle. With incredible suddenness, rain began to lash down from the sky.

  Without another word, Adaira and Maudie ran down the corridor to the door. Everything was dark within the room.

  “Rodric,” Adaira called his name in a loud whisper. “Rodric! Wake up!”

  There was the sound of a rapid movement inside, and suddenly his face appear
ed at the little grate. He looked surprised.

  “What’s all this?” he asked. “Have you come to bring me more food?”

  “You have to come with us,” Adaira said urgently. “We’re getting you out of here now!”

  She shoved the key into the lock and wrestled with it to turn it. After a moment, the lock rattled, the key turned, and the door swung open. As wary as a hunted animal, the big man peered out of the doorway and up the corridor past the two women.

  “Come on,” said Adaira. “We have hardly any time. The guard might wake up or another come to see how he is doing. There are regular patrols in the corridors now.”

  “Are you helping me to escape?” said Rodric. “After last time, I thought...” He gazed at Adaira in disbelief.

  “Well, whatever ye thought or didn’t think, ye were wrong,” said Maudie. “Now are ye two goin’ tae stare at each other a’ night or are ye goin’ tae get out o’ here?”

  Rodric seemed jolted by her words. “Of course. You are right. Lead the way!”

  The three of them turned, and Maudie led Rodric and Adaira up the corridor. She poked her head around the corner, scanning the dim corridor for any sign of life.

  “All clear!” she whispered, gesturing for them to follow. The trio hurried off down the corridor together. Maudie led them past the sleeping guard, and down a short flight of stairs to where a wider window opened onto a steep drop.

  “This is as far as we can go!” she hissed. “There’s no going further than this because the corridor just leads ye out intae the courtyard, which is guarded. Ye’ll need tae go out this window.”

  Rodric looked doubtfully at the drop. He stuck his head out of the window and looked down. “There’s a rope!” he exclaimed jubilantly.

  “Aye, we set it up before we came to get ye,” said Maudie. “Go on now, ye must go!”