Seduced By Her Highland Prisoner: A Scottish Medieval Historical Romance

by Alisa Adams

  “As far as it goes, yes,” she said. “But I still don’t know why you didn’t tell me sooner. Why not last night? Or the night in the cave? By then, it couldn't have made any difference. Why were you not honest then?”

  “Don’t you know by now?” he asked desperately. “I have just told you. I didn’t tell you because...because I was afraid. Afraid it would drive you away, as indeed it has. I asked you to marry me Adaira, to cement peace between our clans, yes, but not just for that. I asked you to marry me because I love you. I love you, lass, and that’s the truth. I could not go on without telling you the full truth, and that’s all there is to it. I may be a nobleman and son and heir of a noble clan, but I'm a simple man at heart. I believe in honesty and truth, and I could not go further with you without you knowing the full truth of how it got to this point. And that's it. That's all I have to say. Can you forgive me?” He held out his hands to her in a pleading gesture.

  “Oh, Rodric, I don’t know,” she said. “It all seems so muddled. You love me, and yet you lied to me. You want peace, and yet your father would have butchered my family and all my people. I am willing to marry you, Rodric, if it will secure peace, but I cannot say that I love you. I was truly beginning to trust you, but how can I now?”

  He stood, suddenly. There was a mixture of emotions on his face—anger, but also pain and hurt. With a sudden, convulsive gesture he gripped his belt-knife and hauled it free from its sheath then, to her surprise, he knelt on one knee before her.

  “I swear it, Adaira, by all the most powerful oaths a man can swear,” he said earnestly, “in the sight of the good Lord above, and on the blade of my knife, I swear to you that I will be faithful and truthful, I will never lie to you, nor withhold the truth ever again. May Almighty God strike me down if I tell a lie.”

  She was impressed, but then, with a flick of the wrist, he turned the blade in his hand and held out to her, the handle extended toward her.

  “Take it,” he said. “As a token of my faith. And I ask that if ever I prove false to you, strike me down yourself as a faithless and untrustworthy coward, not worthy of the respect of men, or the love of a woman.”

  She met his eyes then, and reached out to take the blade. He lowered his head, his long hair falling past his neck toward the floor.

  “I’ll need the sheath,” she said. He looked up and saw her smiling, and holding out her empty hand. He unclipped the sheath from his belt and handed it to her, and with a deft motion, she clipped it onto her own belt and slipped the knife in.

  Slowly, he stood. She came to him, hands on her hips, looking up into his broad, handsome, honest face. “I’ll hold you to that,” she said softly. Then she stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the mouth. He wrapped his arms around her.

  “I forgive you,” she whispered. “And I love you too.”

  14

  Everything to Fight For

  Adaira woke up with the cold gray light of the early dawn filtering through the small window of the little room. She rolled over onto one side and then the other, stretching her muscles, which had been cramped from lying in the same position all night. Then she sat up, blinking and rubbing her eyes.

  “It’s early,” she whispered to herself. Looking down, she saw Rodric. He was curled up on the floor in front of the hearth, wrapped in his tartan plaid. She had tried to suggest that they should share the bed, but he had insisted it would be inappropriate for an unmarried couple to sleep together, so he had slept on the hard, uncomfortable floor.

  “I did not mean that we would do anything other than sleep,” she had said to him, scandalized by the implication.

  “I know that,” he replied, eyeing the mattress, “but that's a small bed all the same, and I think you will agree that I am quite a big man! I think I would be more comfortable in front of the hearth anyway.”

  He was right. It was a small bed, and she had been glad to have it all to herself since she had had the best night’s sleep in weeks. She swung her legs off the edge of the bed and stood up. Woken by the sound, Rodric rolled over, muttering in his sleep, then yawned and opened his eyes. Standing by the window in just her linen kirtle, Adaira was the first thing he saw.

  “Well, there’s a sight for sore eyes first thing in the morning,” he said sleepily, pushing himself up on his elbows and grinning appreciatively.

  He looks quite good himself, she thought. He was bare-chested, and with his reddish-brown hair messed up around his head and the innocence of sleep still in his expression, he looked both strong and vulnerable, manly but gentle. She wanted to go to him but wasn’t entirely sure that she would be able to do so without getting too distracted from what they had to do that day.

  “It’s very early,” she said to him. “I wonder if the villagers will be ready for our departure?”

  Right then, there was a knock on the door.

  “Just a moment,” said Adaira, and dressed hurriedly. Rodric went to the door, pulling his plaid around his shoulders as he went. Glancing back to make sure she was ready, he pulled the door open. MacPherson stood there.

  “Good morning, Rodric,” he said. “Sorry to rouse ye so early, but ye did say ye wanted tae leave at first light.”

  “That’s all right,” said Rodric. “We were already awake. Is all ready?”

  “It is.” MacPherson’s voice was firm and determined. “Every man is determined tae dae his duty.”

  “Right then,” said Rodric, smiling as he patted the innkeeper on the shoulder. “Let us go!”

  It had been agreed that as many of the men from the village who wanted to would go with Adaira and Rodric to Castle Dunn. Though it was a farming and forestry village more than anything, there was some stout folk there, and the hardiest had armed themselves and prepared to ride out. A large number of the men had been inspired by Rodric's leadership in the battle of the day before, and many of the women, equally inspired by Adaira, had also turned out to see them off. Maudie was there, still looking sleepy. She had been sheltered that night by an older healer since it had been agreed that she had been through enough already, and would stay in Auldford Village for the time being.

  MacPherson, who would be staying to look after the inn and the remaining townsfolk, said farewell to them in front of the assembled townsfolk.

  “Ye have saved our village fae a terrible fate,” he said. “Who knows what MacCormick and his thugs would have done tae oor wee town if it had not been for ye? Know that we have given ye a pledge o’ loyalty, an’ may yer efforts for peace between the Strachan clan and the Montrose clan bear fruit, an’ quickly. Good luck!”

  Several of the younger men from the village had elected to join them on their journey, and so twenty people set out that morning, their faces grim and determined. They did not go by the road, instead heading up to the back of the village and going out one by one from the door that led straight into the woods. Their leader was an old man called Tom who was a forester and a trapper, and knew the country well around the village. His face was wrinkled and brown from many years of working outdoors. He looked up at Rodric and smiled.

  “All tae fight for now, eh?” he said with a wink.

  Rodric nodded. “Aye, Tom. All to fight for.”

  Once they had all left the village, Tom directed them to get into a column, two abreast, because the path was narrow and not well used. His goal was to take them through the wooded foothills of the mountains, north towards Castle Dunn, avoiding the road where possible. It would be a longer journey that way, but they ran less risk of meeting MacCormick and his men.

  “And if he arrives before us,” Rodric had said, “and attacks my father, we can attack him in the flank at least.”

  “Let us hope that it does not come to that.” said Adaira. “For if it does, all hope of getting a peace treaty will be gone.”

  “Aye, I certainly hope it does not come to that,” Rodric said grimly.

  Despite the ruggedness of the terrain, they made good progress. They took it fairly easy, husband
ing their strength and that of the horses in case they were forced into the battle that they hoped they would be able to avoid. The sun was high in the sky and the woods were very pleasant in the first flush of spring. On the advice of Tom, nobody spoke much, for though they thought that they were safe, nobody knew whose scouts might be patrolling the woods. As he pointed out, the trees and undergrowth provided ideal cover for spies.

  “Ye cannae be too careful on a jaunt like this,” he said, shaking his head. Everyone agreed with that.

  It was almost noon when disaster nearly struck. They had come down from a high, wooded hill, into a clearing that was nearer to the road than they had been all day. Tom had warned them that there was no way to avoid coming onto the road for a little while here.

  “Yon cliff climbs up and blocks the way, ye see,” he said, gesturing at the soaring, impassible cliff that cut across the otherwise gentle foothills. “There’s nae other way tae pass but by the road.”

  “We’ll have to go very carefully, then,” said Rodric, “and someone will have to go and scout out the road before we venture it.”

  As it happened, there was no need for scouts because they almost walked right into John MacCormick’s camp.

  They had been in the clearing and must have gotten up late and taken a long time to get ready because they were just forming up on the road when Adaira, Rodric, and their followers rode out into the clearing.

  Adaira saw them first. “Stop, stop!” she hissed, holding up her hands, and Tom halted the company with a wave of his hand. They all peered out through the trees towards the road. It was clear that MacCormick had not been back to his own lands to collect his men yet. There were still only thirty of his soldiers with him, and they were forming up on the road and beginning to move in the direction that would take them away from Castle Dunn.

  “They must have come back here and rested after the battle last night,” Adaira whispered to Rodric. “I wonder why they didn’t get going sooner? They could have been to MacCormick’s castle, collected their soldiers, and been back by now.”

  “It must be part of his plan,” said Rodric. “He doesn’t want to help your brother, not really. He is waiting and hoping that when he returns, my father will have done the work for him and he can betray Duncan without ever having to commit his soldiers or himself to the danger that comes with engaging in an actual fight.”

  “Look, he’s going now,” Adaira said, and they all watched as the party began to move off away down the road.

  “How long until he gets back?” Rodric wondered out loud.

  Adaira shrugged. “It’s perhaps half a day’s ride to his castle. It depends how long it takes him to get his men together. I suspect he’ll return quickly.”

  “But just in case, we should expect him to do just that,” said Rodric. “Damn the treacherous man!” He turned his head and spat on the ground. “We have twenty good folk with bows and swords here. If it were up to me, I’d ride up and kill him and his folk right now.”

  She laid a hand on his arm, and with that gentle touch, the wrathful Highlander felt his anger cool. He turned his head and looked down into her eyes. Somehow, she managed to look determined and loving at the same time, and for the hundredth time he thanked God he had found her. She was his voice of reason as well as the woman he loved.

  “That would not help us now, Rodric,” she said calmly, shaking her head. “Let us not forget our mission."

  “Aye,” he said, sighing. “Of course, you are right. There is no use in me going off on a hunt now. It would serve no purpose, however much it would satisfy me.”

  “That’s right,” she said. “Peace, that is the goal. Look, they are well out of sight now. Let’s go.”

  They led their group warily out onto the road, and then, seeing no sign of any scouts or other enemies, they turned their horses’ heads in the direction of Castle Dunn and put on speed. After about an hour’s ride, they saw the looming bulk of the castle of the Strachans in the distance. Though they could not be certain, it seemed to them that there was a darkness around the castle, like smoke, as if there was a great burning going on. The bright afternoon light was hazy in that direction.

  “How far now?” asked old Tom.

  Adaira looked upwards, guessing the time to be about noon. “Half an afternoon’s ride, maybe? If we stay on the road and put on a touch of speed we could make it there a wee bit sooner.”

  “Aye, I think ye had better do that then,” Tom agreed thoughtfully, stroking his beard. “MacCormick is long gone, so ye have nothing tae fear on that score for now. And though we could go back up intae the hills for the rest of the journey, that’s a weary way, and ye’d be lucky tae reach Castle Dunn before sunset.”

  “The road it is, then,” said Adaira, determination in her dark eyes. “Time is of the essence now.”

  “I agree,” said Rodric. “I do not like the look of that haze over there, though. I hope my father has not attacked the castle already. If he has, then we may already be too late, despite all our efforts.”

  They put spurs to their horses and began to ride faster. After about an hour, it became clear that the haze around the castle was indeed the smoke from a huge fire, and Adaira and Rodric felt their hope die. The sun was in their eyes and they squinted as they peered ahead, wishing they knew what was going on but dreading finding out.

  Then, as they came to the great loch that ran alongside the road for the last few miles of the journey, the weather changed. Out of nowhere, a scurrying dark gray cloud bank rushed up the glen behind them and darkened the sky, dimming their view. Cold rain began to fall, and they were forced to slow their pace to avoid their horses falling over in the mud, which was slick and slippery.

  “Damn this rain!” said Rodric. “Just when we need to see the most!”

  “Ye wilnae have tae wait long,” said Tom, pointing one gnarled finger ahead of them. “Look.”

  Out of the gloom, there suddenly rose the great shape of Castle Dunn. Torches were burning on its battlements, and men were encamped around its outer wall, but the smoke came from the many fires that had been built on the flat expanse of ground in front of the castle, and not, as they had feared, from the burning of the castle itself.

  “Thank God,” breathed Rodric. “We are not yet too late to save ourselves from disaster.”

  15

  Arrival at Camp Montrose

  When the Montrose army saw the towering figure of Rodric riding into their camp, a mighty cheer went up, and the entire company ran to surround the little party. With everyone shouting over each other to ask Rodric where he had been, if he was staying to fight, and how his health was, the din was ear-splitting. Rodric endured so many good-natured thumps on the back that it began to ache, but there was so much warmth and goodwill in the gestures that he endured it.

  Adaira noticed that he stood a head taller than any other man in the camp, and she felt extremely proud of him, because not only was he a big man on the outside, but he had the largest heart of any man she had ever known.

  Rodric looked back at her with a smiling frown, then shrugged as if to say: Now what do I do?

  She dismounted from her horse and made her way through the crowd of men to stand by his side, and he immediately pulled her close to him. She felt better at once, for so many fighting men in one small place was extremely intimidating, but as always, Rodric made her feel safe.

  Presently the troops all fell back and a broad path opened up in front of them. Suddenly Adaira realized that Rodric was not the tallest man in the encampment after all; the ferocious-looking figure striding up the path towards them was obviously his father. They were of equal height, and both had the same deep red hair, although the older man’s was short, and threaded through with a few white strands. They had the same muscular bodies too, but Andrew Montrose’s face had the grim hard features of a warrior seasoned in battle. When he saw his son, though, he threw his arms around him in an embrace so strong that Adaira saw Rodric wince.


  “Thank God you are home, Son,” his father said, in a tone of deep thankfulness. “You were away for such a long time we thought you were dead.”

  The two men clung together for a long time, and Adaira saw the chief whispering something in Rodric’s ear, and she thought that it was probably some expression of paternal love that was too intimate for the soldiers’ ears. When Andrew Montrose let go of his son, they smiled at each other, and Adaira was touched to see the love in their faces.

  Both men turned to Adaira, and Rodric reached out to draw her towards him again and said proudly, “Father, this is Adaira Strachan, my betrothed.” He took a deep breath and held his hand up to stop the thunderous tirade that he knew his father was going to unleash. “Hear me out, Father. You thought I had died, and I almost did, but Adaira saved me from a slow death from starvation, then she helped me to escape from her brother, who was going to behead me. It is a long story, but I am only here because of her.”

  A deafening silence followed, then Rodric’s father bowed to her and touched his lips to her hand. “Andrew Montrose at your service, milady,” he said humbly. “Please accept my deepest thanks for saving the life of my son and for bringing him back to me. I am forever in your debt.”