Seduced By Her Highland Prisoner: A Scottish Medieval Historical Romance

by Alisa Adams

  He did as she said, taking a deep breath and steadying himself. For a moment, his emotions had been about to overwhelm him, but her touch soothed him and cooled his anger.

  “That’s better,” she said, smiling. “Now, listen to me. I think I know where we are. There’s the road.” She pointed. “If we can get to the road and travel south and west along it, we will come to Auldford, a little village built by the ford at the river. There’s an inn there, and stables where we may be able to get horses. It’s our best chance of getting food and supplies and taking stock.”

  Rodric nodded reluctantly. “It’s the wrong direction, but you are right. We must go there. How far is it?”

  She shrugged. “A day’s walk? Perhaps a little less.”

  “We will need to be careful on the road,” he reminded her. “As you said, your brother may have sent searchers after us.”

  “Perhaps, but I’ve been thinking about that, and actually, I don’t think it likely. There were few enough men there to garrison the castle, so he can ill afford to send any away. They will search the area around the castle, but I don’t think they will search as far as Auldford.”

  With this encouraging thought, they made their way down the slope again to the edge of the treeline. There was no sign of pursuit, but they took care anyway, skirting the woodland until they reached the road which led away from Castle Dunn, around the foot of the hill and away southward. Once they were out of sight of the castle, they felt more secure and made good progress, walking companionably along the dirt road together. They talked little, taking pleasure in each other’s company but keeping their thoughts mostly to themselves. The day was overcast, but the breeze was warm.

  Hours passed, and in the late afternoon, they rounded a corner and saw the little village of Auldford—a cluster of thatched buildings nestled into an angle of the hill beside the river, surrounded by a wooden palisade. A little below the village, the road ran down to the river and crossed it at the wide ford, which gave the town its name. Smoke rose from chimneys. The sound of a smith’s hammer rang through the still air. Somewhere, a dog barked. Adaira and Rodric stopped, looking down at the homely sight.

  “I hope we don’t get thrown out of the village as beggars,” said Rodric, only half-joking. Adaira looked him up and down, then glanced at her own clothes.

  “We don’t look particularly respectable,” she admitted. “But I have a few silver coins in my pocket, and I have this.” She reached up and plucked at her neckline, pulling out a necklace she had been wearing. Three emeralds glittered in a hammered silver setting at the end of a fine silver chain. Rodric’s eyes widened at the workmanship of the lovely piece.

  “Ah, that’s beautiful!” he said appreciatively. “It looks very valuable.”

  “It is,” she said. “It...it was my mother’s. She left it to me when she died. I was very young, only a child when she left us. I’ve worn it against my skin every day since I turned thirteen. It’s very old.”

  “And you would sell it? Now?” he said incredulously.

  “For us? Yes, I would, if it’s needed,” she said firmly. “It is just a thing, and it can be replaced. A human life cannot be. Come on, now, let’s go down.”

  “For us,” Rodric repeated quietly, then followed her down the road to the village. She is astonishing, he thought. Quite astonishing.

  They had a little trouble with the guard at the gate, who took exception to their ragged condition, but Adaira did the talking. She and her husband were traveling south to visit family, she told the guard, and they had been caught in the storm and lost their way. They wished to spend a night at the inn and rest before they carried on. The guard was an officious, self-important man who reminded her a little of Duncan. However Adaira spoke to him politely, and after a moment, he begrudgingly let them through. Rodric did his best not to glower at the man as they passed.

  They found Auldford’s inn. It was a small, smoky place with a couple of rooms for rent and a stable yard at the back. The landlord, a bright-eyed, intelligent man named MacPherson, took one of Adaira’s silver coins and looked at it thoughtfully, but he accepted the story that she and Rodric were a husband and wife who had been caught in the storm and showed them up to a little room above the common room.

  “I’ll bring ye a good meal,” he said. “For a’ that silver, ye may stay two nights and take three meals a day if ye wish.”

  Once they had eaten, drunk, and warmed themselves by the fire, darkness was falling outside. The room was cozy, and they were both tired after the long day of walking on empty stomachs.

  “Well, we made it safely,” said Rodric comfortably. He sat on the rug before the fire, a cup of warm ale in his hand, while she sat in a chair with her feet stretched out to the fire.

  “So far,” she agreed, stifling a yawn. “What comes next remains to be seen, of course.”

  He nodded gravely, then raised his eyes to look into hers. The firelight cast deep shadows and ruddy highlights across the shapely planes of his handsome face. She met his eyes and smiled.

  “Adaira,” he said, frowning slightly, “I’ve been thinking about what we must do.”

  She said nothing, but her silence was an invitation for him to continue.

  “When I was captured by Duncan, I had a...that is to say, I did not think peace was an option for our clans.” He paused, seeming to find it difficult to go on.

  Adaira did not think that was quite what he had been about to say, but she let it pass. She smiled at him and nodded for him to continue.

  “But now that I’ve met you, and spoken with you, well, now I understand the situation better, and I see that there could be a way to achieve peace after all, without the destruction of your clan.”

  “But surely—” she began, but he held up a hand to stop her.

  “Wait,” he said, putting up a hand, “let me finish. What I mean to say is...if we were to join our clans together, then we could make a bond of peace which would last longer than that which could be achieved by domination in battle.”

  “Join our clans?” she said, not understanding what he meant. “But how could we do that? A blood oath?”

  He didn’t answer, but just looked at her, a slow smile on his face.

  “Oh!” she said after a moment. “You mean... But I thought—” she stammered, and let out a nervous laugh, one hand rising to cover her mouth.

  “Aye, lass,” he said, and clumsily rose from his sitting position, putting down his ale and kneeling on one knee before her. “We could marry, you and I,” he said. “Would you? Could you see your way to doing that? Adaira Strachan, will you marry me?”

  “For the sake of peace?” she asked. Her eyes had become a little frightened, and she seemed to be thinking hard.

  “Well, aye,” he said, “but not just for the sake of peace. I care for you, Adaira. After what we have been through together recently, you are a fine woman, and any man would count himself blessed indeed to call you his wife. I would gladly take you as mine.”

  She got up abruptly from her seat. “Oh, Rodric, I don’t know,” she said. “I had imagined that we would negotiate with your father together and that we could achieve peace that way, but this, I...” She trailed off and looked at him uncertainly. “Do you really feel for me that way?”

  “I do,” he replied, and she could see that he meant it. “Before I met you, I would gladly have seen Clan Strachan destroyed, but now I would see our two clans joined in peace. And our children would be the first of the new clan, the best of both of us.”

  Adaira nodded slowly. “It’s hard for me. Our two clans have been enemies for so long, and I’ve known you for such a short time. If you could prove your feelings to me, I would marry you for peace, but for love? I don’t know just yet, Rodric.”

  He smiled and got up from where he knelt. He opened his arms, and Adaira went to him, leaning into his embrace. Rodric leaned down and kissed the top of her head.

  “For peace?” he said into her hair.


  “If you can prove your feelings for me,” she said, and closed her eyes. “I want to trust you, but I dare not, not fully. Not just yet.”

  “Aye, lass,” he said regretfully. “I can understand that.”

  They said little more after that. They were both tired, and they were content to take the affection they felt for one another and leave it at that. They pulled the blankets off the bed and laid them out in front of the fire, which they built up into a comfortable blaze. Rodric looked away while Adaira undressed and wrapped herself in a blanket, hanging her dress and kirtle up near the flames to dry them fully. Rodric wrapped himself in his plaid, and they lay down together.

  They did not know what was going to come of any of this, and as Adaira had told him, she was not sure if she could entirely trust him yet. But for that night, she decided she would accept his assurances and his affection. Wrapped in their blankets, they curled up together in front of the fire and quickly dropped off to sleep.

  10

  The Pursuit

  Adaira woke with a start and sat up, glancing around. Someone was rapping insistently on the door to their room. It took her a moment to get her bearings.

  “Rodric,” she said, shaking him. “Rodric, wake up!” Her voice was shaking with fear.

  They had slept all night and part of the morning away, and the room was chilly, the fire having long died out. Rodric groaned and opened his eyes, then snapped into wakefulness as he saw the trepidation in her eyes. Pale light streamed through the thin curtain into the tiny inn room. The knock at the door was repeated, more loudly this time.

  “A moment,” called Adaira, and the knocking stopped. She stood, the blanket which she had wrapped herself in dropping to the floor. Rodric’s eyes widened and he looked hastily away as Adaira clad herself in her now fully-dried clothes. Then she walked to the door and unlatched it, opening it a crack to reveal the concerned face of the landlord, MacPherson.

  “I’m sorry tae bother ye,” he said. “I knocked earlier tae see if ye would be wantin’ breakfast, but when ye didn’t answer I thought it best tae let ye sleep, as ye seemed worn out when ye arrived yesterday. But now, something has happened which—well, I would be glad tae have a word with ye both if I may, without delay.”

  “Come in, then,” said Adaira, opening the door wider. The landlord stepped into the room. He was a tall, thin fellow with a bald head and a high, domed brow. His eyes were bright, and he looked around the little room quickly. His gaze fell on the fireplace, and almost instinctively, he moved toward it and began to set a fresh fire in the hearth. Adaira saw that the man was scared, and needed something to busy himself with, so she let him be.

  After a moment of fussing with kindling, MacPherson had a little flame going, and as he built this into a fire, he began to speak. His voice was flat, expressionless, and he did not look at them as he spoke.

  “An hour ago, there came a man tae the gate,” he said. “A soldier, riding a tired horse. He was no’ wearing the Strachan colors. He asked after a man and a woman, two travelers, he said, who were wanted by the laird up at Castle Dunn. Two spies, he said. He said ye might be dangerous.”

  The innkeeper continued to build up the fire. When he glanced up at Adaira and Rodric, neither of them spoke, and after a moment, the landlord continued.

  “I dinnae want tae cause ye trouble and I didnae say anything tae the man about ye but, well, he gave a description that matches ye two well enough. We are loyal folk here in Auldford, and we keep our own counsel. Ye have paid tae stay under my roof, and sae as far as I’m concerned, ye are under my protection, but no’ all in the village are sae honorable.”

  “Did someone else speak to this man?” asked Adaira. The landlord nodded.

  “Aye,” he said. “Auld Tom who minds the gate, he spoke tae the rider, right enough. I didnae hear what they said tae one another, but after they spoke the man went straight off, ridin’ like the wind. Not long after, Auld Tom was in here, an’ he bought a drink with a sovereign. It’s rare enough tae see a sovereign in this town, and rarer still in the hands of one such as Tom. I think Tom has sold news of ye tae the messenger, and I just wanted tae tell ye both straight away, and let ye decide what’s best for ye tae dae.”

  “Ye say he was not wearing the blue and green of the Strachan clan?” asked Rodric. “What colors was he wearing then?”

  “Red,” said the landlord. “Blood red, wi’ stripes o’ green.”

  “John MacCormick’s colors,” breathed Adaira, and the landlord nodded.

  “Aye,” he said, “sae I thought. MacCormick may be an ally of the laird, but he has a name of ill repute in these parts. If MacCormick is hunting ye, I think it might be best if ye were tae leave. I dae not ask who ye are, but if MacCormick sends men looking for ye, it would be bad for the village of Auldford if ye were found in my inn.”

  Adaira and Rodric looked at each other. They knew that the strict code of Highland hospitality would not allow the landlord to betray them. They were guests under his roof, and in the Highlands, a man’s honor toward a guest is beyond sacred. But neither of them had any desire to bring trouble down on this good man and his house. They did not need to discuss it. With that look, they both knew what the answer was.

  “We will go,” agreed Rodric, and Adaira nodded to that. “When did this messenger depart?”

  “No’ long ago,” replied the landlord. “No more than an hour has passed since I saw him ride off so ye have a little time. Get yerselves ready. I will prepare a pack wi’ some supplies and ye can eat a bit before ye go on yer way.”

  They dressed as best they could in their tattered and damaged clothes. Adaira tied her hair up into a tight bun at the back of her head while Rodric tied his long hair back into a ponytail with a little strip of leather he kept for the purpose. With his plaid wrapped around his shoulders, he looked quite the picture of the noble Highlander. As they prepared to leave the little room, Rodric caught Adaira gazing contemplatively at him.

  “What?” he asked her.

  She smiled secretively and looked away. “Oh, nothing,” she murmured. “That is, I was just thinking about what you had said last night. About marriage. You were kind enough to say that any man would be proud to call me his wife. I was thinking...” She trailed off, then took a breath and looked him in the eye. “I was thinking that any woman would be proud to call you her husband, too.”

  His eyes widened in a surprised smile, and she placed a hand on his chest and leaned up to kiss the corner of his mouth, then rested her head upon him as he put an arm around her.

  “I have not much hope that this will work out, Rodric,” she admitted in a small voice. “But I have more hope today than I did last night.”

  When they got downstairs, the common room of the inn was empty except for the landlord.

  “Ah, there ye are,” he greeted them pleasantly. “I’ve made up a pack for ye, as ye can see. Travelin’ foods: dried meat, bread, biscuits, some dried fruit, and a little goat’s cheese. It should keep ye both goin’ for a few days. And here is a meal for now.”

  He gestured to a small table which he had laid with porridge, eggs, bread, and ale for them. They sat and ate, but the landlord hovered, rubbing his hands together and looking uncomfortable, so they hurried through the food as quickly as they could.

  “I don’t suppose there are two horses to be had in this village?” Rodric asked.

  MacPherson shook his head sadly. “No’ for sale, I’m afraid. There are a couple o’ draught animals in a stable behind the inn here, but nothin’ which would dae tae carry ye two on a long journey.”

  Rodric nodded, unsurprised, but anxious. He did not relish the journey on foot.

  When they had finished their food, the landlord bade them farewell at the door of the inn.

  “I’m sorry tae see ye go,” he said, “but perhaps ye will be able tae return in happier times.”

  They were just about to answer him when a sudden horn blast was heard from the direction of th
e village gate.

  “Riders!” came a shout. “Riders approaching!”

  The horn blast came again. As Adaira, Rodric, and MacPherson stood looking at each other, a boy came tearing up the road from the direction of the gate.

  “Here, laddie,” cried MacPherson. “What’s afoot?”

  “There’s a whole army of horsemen come tae the gate!” piped the little lad, sounding excited and scared. “They’re fillin’ the whole road!”

  “What colors do they wear?” asked Rodric.

  “Red,” said the boy. “Red, and wi’ a green stripe!” Then he turned and scampered off at full speed.

  “MacCormick,” spat Rodric with a curse.

  “I didnae think they’d come sae quickly!” said MacPherson.

  Adaira glanced around. “We have to get out of here! Is there another way out of the village?”

  “Aye,” said MacPherson. “There’s a small gateway at the back o’ the village that leads up intae the hills.”

  “We must go that way,” said Adaira. “We’ll never escape by the road now. MacPherson, will you show us the way?”

  “Aye, I will dae,” said MacPherson, nodding. “Come on.”

  Without further delay, the honest innkeeper pulled the inn door closed, then turned and began to run in the opposite direction from the main gate. Adaira and Rodric followed. MacPherson took them a winding route through lanes between the tightly-packed wooden houses.

  The riders at the gate had caused a stir, and everywhere people were running downhill, in the direction of the entrance. Rodric, Adaira, and MacPherson kept their heads down, keeping out of sight of the villagers as they darted up the narrow lanes.

  “Here,” panted MacPherson. “Here it is.” He leaned over on his knees, catching his breath, then pointed to where a small gateway sat open in the rough wooden palisade that surrounded the rest of Auldford Village. Here, the wall faced the wooded foothills of an impressive mountain range, and it was apparent that this portion of the palisade was not considered vulnerable by the villagers.