His Highland Pledge (The Clan Sinclair Book 4)

by Celeste Barclay

  “Cease, Fraser. Sinclair has given me much to think about. Tavish, retire to a chamber. I will summon you when I am ready to decide.”

  Tavish looked at the king and then bowed. He and Hamish backed towards the door, but just before leaving, he turned to Laird Fraser once more.

  “By the by, yer burr is showing again. Ye can hide here, but ye’re a Highlander, and ye ken exactly what that means. Find ye honor before ye lose yer soul.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Deirdre fought against the men dragging her through the passageways. She struggled to free her arms as she twisted and scratched. She let her body go limp and forced the men to change their hold on her to accommodate her dead weight. When they eased their grasps, she struck out and kicked one in the bollocks and the other in the shin. She broke free and tried to run back to the Great Hall where she saw Magnus being taken. She felt hands grab hold of her, and this time she was lifted off her feet. She arched her back and thrashed until she felt a hand sink into her hair and wrench her head back. A sharp slap cracked across her face.

  “You will gain control of yourself, or I will see you restrained. We have had enough of your self-involved, melodramatic performance. You will cease this rebellion, or I will have it ceased for you. You are one sideways glance away from being locked in a dungeon yourself,” Lady Fraser threatened.

  Deirdre froze at the mention of a dungeon.

  “Oh yes, you should know that is where your lover ended up. I know you did not cease your tantrum because you fear being sent there. No, I know you did it to learn what became of the traitor.”

  “He is nae a traitor,” Deirdre ground out.

  “That is exactly what he is. He defied the king and went against the king’s directive for you to marry Lord Archibald. That brands him a traitor, disloyal to the crown.”

  Deirdre began to laugh hysterically.

  “Ye have lost yer mind if ye think anyone would believe a Sinclair is disloyal. Ye dinna ken that clan at all if ye think that will float higher than a turd.”

  Her mother’s hand whipped across her face again.

  “You will cease such crass speech. You will be done with that dreadful accent.”

  “Ye mean the same one ye had all yer life until seven years ago when ye became a pretentious social climber. Ye think I dinna remember what ye sounded like when I was growing up. I was a woman wedded and bedded when ye brought me here. I remember it all.”

  “Cease!” her mother snapped.

  They arrived at a chamber, but it was not hers. This one was dark and cold. She was pushed into it, alone, and the door slammed behind her. She heard the key turn in the lock and a bar drop across it. She could see nothing. She tried to move further into the room but stumbled into a crate. She felt around with her hands, but she encountered one crate after another. They had locked her into a storage closet. She sank to the floor and rest her head on her arms that she crossed over her knees.

  Magnus, where are ye? I would ken if something serious happened to ye, wouldnae I? Ma mother said ye are in the dungeons. Is that so? Why? We didna do aught wrong. I love ye.

  Deirdre let herself drift to sleep. There was nothing else she could do, and she needed the rest if she was to be prepared for whatever might happen next.

  Deirdre awoke to the sound of the bar being lifted from her door and the key turning in the lock. Light poured in from the passageway, and she had to shield her eyes. Someone pulled her to her feet and dropped a sack over her head. Before she could fight back, she felt a rope being tied around her wrists. She was pulled into the passageway. The only noise was that of her captors moving about. She sniffed the air.

  “Mother, Father, Archibald, ye should nae use such distinct fragrances. Yer expensive taste only makes ye easier to recognize. Father, this is what ye have come to? Mother convinced ye that ye should abduct yer own daughter from the king’s keep. Magnus never had to force me to go with him. Consider that.”

  A hand wrapped around her throat and squeezed.

  “You are mine now. Your father has signed the documents and the king sealed them. It no longer matters what your mother or father say or do. I make your decisions now, and if you would like to remain unharmed, I suggest you shut your mouth on your own,” Hay leaned in to whisper in her ear, “or I will shut it with my cock.”

  He squeezed again before shoving her away. She stumbled but stayed silent. She was shuffled through the empty passageway until cold air hit her neck and shoulders. She still had her arisaid wrapped around her. No one had removed her Sinclair plaid. Not yet.

  She heard several horses stomping impatiently. Before she could get her bearings properly, she felt herself flying. She landed belly down, hard, onto a saddle. Someone, Hay she realized, mounted behind her. A firm hand pressed against the small of her back.

  “If you want to survive and not fall to your death below galloping hooves, I suggest you remain still.”

  With that, the horse lurched into a canter and then a gallop as the sounds of the hoofbeats changed from echoing on cobblestones to dirt. Several other horses clattered out after the one on which she lay. She was not sure if being hooded helped or not. Her head spun, and her stomach lurched, but not being able to see the shifting ground kept her from passing out.

  They rode through the night and only stopped a handful of times the next day before continuing throughout the second night. Deirdre felt the horse flag under her when they eventually came to a stop. She was jerked from atop the horse and pushed up steps into a Great Hall. The hood was hauled over her head and blood rushed back into her arms and legs. She shook her head to focus on her surroundings as her limbs burned and tingled.

  The Great Hall was dark with a small fire burning in one of the massive fireplaces. There were only a few people spread throughout the gathering area. They slept, unaware of the arrival of their lord and his guest. She refused to consider this as permanent.

  Hay grasped her upper arm and a blade pressed against her throat.

  “Speak, and I shall cut it.”

  He led her, none too gently, up the wide stairwell to the second floor. He pushed a door open and practically threw her into the room. She heard the all too familiar sound of a lock turning and bar dropping into place. She looked around and realized she was in the lord’s chamber.

  She moved to stand before the fire, chilled from traveling night and day with little food for close to a fortnight. She raised her hands to the fire and inspected the rope. No one thought to check her for weapons, so no one found any of the dirks on her body or in her boots. She would bide her time until she could make her escape.

  She was not alone for long. The door opened, and Hay entered. Deirdre did not move, not even flinched, when he came to stand before her. He reached out and grabbed the front of her kirtle. He pulled her close and then palmed her breast.

  “Small but perky. They will do.” He ran his thumb over her breast until he found her nipple. He circled it and then squeezed. Deirdre bit her tongue, refusing to give him any response.

  “I see. You still plan to be obstinate. I have plenty of ideas on how to cure you of that.” He slipped his hand into the neckline of her kirtle, but before he could reach her nipple again, she stepped back.

  “I am nae yer wife. I canna be. I have a marriage decree signed by Bishop Mackenzie from Ardchatton.” She fumbled to pull the sealed vellum from the pocket she had found sewn into the kirtle. She freed the document and held it before her. “This proves I am another man’s wife. Ye have nay claim over me.”

  “I have every claim I want. I am the one here. Your northern barbarian is not, now is he? I believe he is keeping company with the rats of the king’s dungeon.”

  Hay plucked the parchment from her fingers. Curiosity got the better of him, and he ripped open the seal. He scanned the writ’s contents and then tossed it in the fire. Deirdre did not flinch, and Hay’s sneer slipped.

  “Whether ye believe me married to ye or another mon, I am sure ye di
nna want anyone questioning if the bairn I bear is yers or someone else’s. Ye ken there is every likelihood I am already carrying Magnus’s child. Bed me now, and ye will never be sure if yer heir is yers or if yer giving everything to a Sinclair.”

  Hay moved to stand so close to her that the toe of his boot tapped hers. He leaned so that his hot breath wafted across the bridge of her nose. She wanted to retreat, but she made herself hold her ground.

  “There is more than one way to ensure you are not carrying that man’s bastard. Since I need you to live long enough to bear me an heir, I suppose killing you will not work. The village healer can prepare you a tincture that will cleanse your womb of any unholy seed that may have planted itself there.”

  “Ye may as well kill me now.”

  “Such dramatics.”

  “Nay, ye really may as well kill me now. Ma parents gave me such a tincture when we arrived at court once they knew Magnus and I made love. It vera nearly killed me. I was violently ill for three days. I bled so much that the healer feared I would bleed to death. I vomited blood for a fortnight and could not keep anything down. By all means, if ye dinna intend to free me, then kill me and have done.”

  Hay gave her a long, hard look before stepping back.

  “I am not usually a patient man, but I can wait a fortnight. I have other ways to entertain myself. I believe you know her. Mary Kerr has not defiled herself with some illiterate peasant.”

  When no look of surprise or dismay passed Deirdre’s face, Hay stormed out and slammed the door shut.

  I kenned he’d bedding the witch! It explains how Archibald could hunt near the king while someone tried to shoot Magnus. They conspired together. I wonder if they planned this all along or if greed makes strange bedfellows.

  Deirdre heard horses below the chamber window. The sun was just rising, and she saw Hay mounting a horse.

  Where is he going now? Is he leaving me here?

  Deirdre ran back to the door, but she already knew it was locked. She rushed back to the window in time to see Hay ride out with his entourage following. Deirdre stared in disbelief as they faded over the rise. She remembered seeing people sleeping in the Great Hall, but she had no idea if anyone even knew she was locked in here. She forced herself to calm as she puzzled through the situation.

  This isnae the first time ye’ve been locked away while others wait to see if ye are increasing.

  ~~~

  “I willnae drink that! Ye canna make me. I warn ye, I will only spit it out.”

  Deirdre thrashed her head from side to side, her hair coming loose. Her sisters held her in the chair, one pinning her arms behind her while the other pulled her hair back. Her mother pried her jaw open and poured the bitter tincture into her mouth. Deirdre had already taken a deep breath through her nose, so when she felt the liquid pool in her mouth, she blew hard from deep within her throat. The foul brew spewed from her and splattered across her mother’s face. Her mother stared at her in disbelief before slapping her.

  “I dinna ken who ye have turned into since meeting that beast, but ye arenae the daughter I raised.”

  “Ye raised?” Deirdre laughed raucously.

  “Ye ungrateful wretch. Ye would squander yer family’s opportunities all because some behemoth lad turned yer head. Are ye that desperate for attention since ye dinna inherit the good looks yer sisters did?”

  Deirdre sensed her sisters shrink away from their mother’s vitriol. Deirdre was used to her mother’s caustic comments about her insufficiency. They still hurt, but they no longer created the desperation they once did.

  “Magnus chose me. This time around ye didna have to buy a husband for yer daughter.” Deirdre heard her sisters’ gasps. She regretted being unkind to them until she remembered who had her pinned to the chair.

  Lady Fraser once again stepped to her daughter’s side. This time, she pinched Deirdre’s nose close. She waited until Deirdre had no choice but to open her mouth and suck in air. She quickly poured the brew down Deirdre’s throat not pausing despite her daughter’s coughing and spluttering. When the last drop dripped from the cup, her mother stepped back.

  “It doesnae matter what either of ye chose. Ye willnae be carrying a bastard by morn.”

  Deirdre looked defiantly at her mother. At that moment, she had never hated anyone as much as she did her mother.

  Her mother took a deep breath and patted her hair back into place. She straightened her gown before looking back at Deirdre. Deirdre recognized her mother’s court persona had slipped back into place.

  “Daughter, you would do well to remember that this lad you claim to love did not even wait until you left the keep before he was in the mead tent with a woman splayed across him, her bosom heaving before him. You may think you love him, but clearly, the feelings are not mutual.” Maeve Fraser stared down at her daughter’s crestfallen face and smiled. She nodded to her two older daughters, and the three women left the room. Not an ounce of remorse passed through the older woman. Not for her rough treatment of her daughter or the lie she told.

  Deirdre woke to an excruciating pain gripping her midsection. She could not tell if it was her stomach or her back that was causing her such agony. She tried to roll over, but the cramps seized her and stole her breath. She moved her legs and a flood was unleashed from between her thighs. She pulled herself up to look at what drenched her. The entire bedding around her was soaked crimson.

  Dear merciful heavens. That is blood!

  Deirdre let forth a bloodcurdling scream that bounced around the walls of the chamber, slid under the door, and echoed through the passageway. Her screams continued as pain ripped through every inch of her as her body hemorrhaged. Her mother and father burst into her chamber. Laird Fraser took one look at the bloody sheets and blanched. The battle-tested warrior thought he might collapse at the sight of his youngest daughter surrounded by blood. Lady Fraser merely grinned and clapped once.

  “Donald, we have naught to worry about now.”

  Laird Fraser looked blankly at his wife.

  “How can ye say that? Our daughter is dying.”

  “Don’t be foolish. She is not dying, but her body is purging her of the bastard she must have carried.”

  Deirdre released another scream that sent shivers along everyone’s spine who heard it. It was a mixture of pure pain and heartbreaking agony. Her sisters huddled in the corner, wide-eyed and shocked to see what was happening to her. Deirdre’s cries continued as she curled into a ball, feeling as though a flame burned through her middle and that every inch of her insides was being torn from her.

  A crowd was beginning to form in the passageway when the queen stepped into the chamber. Her gasp brought all eyes swinging from Deirdre’s to the royal. Bows and curtseys were made and ignored as the queen rushed to Deirdre’s side.

  “Child what has happened to you?” The queen looked around and summoned the healer.

  Deirdre could do nothing, but sob as black dots danced around the corners of her eyes. She tried to move past the pain, but it consumed every cell of her being. She wished for death at that moment if it meant a release from the pain. She moaned as she prayed that Magnus could find her and rescue her once more.

  “Magnus. Magnus. Where is Magnus?” she whispered.

  “What is that, my child? Who are you asking for?” the queen leaned forward. “Who is this Magnus?”

  “Ma husband,” was the last thing that Deirdre whispered for a sennight.

  She floated between darkness and lucidity. She thought she heard Magnus’s voice but when she reached for him, there was no one to touch. No one came near her except for one pair of cool and soft hands. Someone tended to her but never said more than a few calming words. Escaping to the blackness was easier than the pain in her body or of knowing Magnus was not there.

  “She’s rousing, ma lady. Her fever broke in the night.”

  “Very well. Thank you. You may go.”

  “But, my lady, she is still very ill. She still ne
eds constant care.”

  Deirdre heard her mother’s beleaguered sigh. Her refined tones were once again in place, gone was the Highlander and back was the courtier.

  “Fine, but she is not to know there was never any child. She is not to know there was no reason for this to happen. Is that understood? If she learns of it, I will know it came from you, and I will have you sent away with no coin and no references.”

  “Aye, ma lady.”

  Deirdre kept her eyes closed as she took in all that she heard. She was never pregnant. She and Magnus had not made a child together. There was never a baby to lose. She curled into a ball. The pain of losing what might have been, what could have been, was as excruciating as experiencing the purge all over again. Tears leaked from her clenched eyes. She buried her sobs in her pillow.

  “It’s all right, lass. She is gone now. Ye dinna have to cower. Let it out, lass.” The gentle hands Deirdre recognized soothed her and brushed back her curls. “I ken ye heard me speak to yer mother. I dinna agree in the least. Ye should ken that ye were never carrying. There was nae evidence of a bairn. Yer life was at risk for nay reason than fear and pride. Ye had a vera serious reaction to what ye mother gave ye. Lass, listen and hear me well. Ye canna ever have one of these purging tinctures again. Ye body doesnae tolerate it. Ye vera nearly died. If it’s given to ye again and there isnae a skilled healer nearby, ye will die.”

  Deirdre could only look at the woman and nod. She rolled back onto her side and sobbed until sleep swept her away again.

  ~~~

  Deirdre placed her hands protectively over her belly. She was certain she was carrying this time. She felt different after she and Magnus made love at the rocks. She knew that instant she had conceived. Something within her told her, and she believed the silent voice.

  With Hay gone, she no longer feared being molested. She sat down on the bed and then laid down. She would not cut her bindings yet, not until she knew who her jailor was or if Hay would return, but she would rest.