As dusk settled into night, Allyson didn’t dare seek shelter anywhere near the town or the keep. She remained outside where the temperature dropped, and her teeth chattered, but exhaustion overrode the discomfort. She fell into a deeper sleep than she expected and was startled awake when someone grabbed a handful of her hair through her hood and lifted her onto her feet. Her eyes snapped open as pain ripped across her scalp. She scanned her surroundings and understood in an instant that a band of border reivers had discovered her hideout.
“Look what we have here.” The clipped English tones came from behind her, and she grimaced that she hadn’t had at least a little good fortune to have Scots find her. The danger she faced grew exponentially now that she was in the hands of an English group of thieves. “Why would a young woman be sleeping alone in the woods with a keep and a town so nearby? She’s avoiding someone, or they’ve left her to struggle on her own.”
“I bet she’ll struggle. Struggle when she’s beneath me,” a deep voice boomed from somewhere to Allyson’s right. She twisted one way then another as she tried to count how many men were in the party.
“Let me go and take the horse. That’s all you want.”
“The horse may be what I want,” came the voice of her captor. “But what I need is to leave no witnesses.” A blade appeared in the moonlight before it pressed against her throat. Allyson considered stating her name, hoping they might ransom her rather than kill her, but she wouldn’t bring these men anywhere near her home, her family, or her clan.
“I haven’t even seen any of your faces. You’re English and will be back across the border before daylight. There is naught to fear from me,” Allyson reasoned.
A man emerged from between two trees, tugging the reins to her horse. He took one glance at her, then paused and gave her a much longer assessing look. He stepped forward and pushed her hood all the way off her head and yanked her shawl from her head and the scarf from her face.
“Bloody hell, if it isn’t Lord Elliot’s daughter,” the third man announced. He was the only one whose face she’d seen. And he was the one who gave away her identity.
“Elliot’s daughter? What’re you doing out alone?” The man who held the blade against her throat muttered. “Never mind the horse. We just gained something far more valuable.”
Allyson sensed more men were in the surrounding area, but none materialized. Within moments, they bound her hands in front of her and tied her scarf as a gag. They tossed her onto her horse, and she almost sailed over the other side with her hands unable to steady her. The man who recognized her kept her reins, and while they kept the pace slow to reduce their noise and to keep her from tumbling off the horse, she had to squeeze her thighs with all her might to stop herself from sliding from one side to another. She assumed they would cross the border and arrive at a small keep, where the reivers would deposit her until someone demanded a ransom from her family. She was unprepared for hours of riding through the dark as they headed east after crossing the border. They rode parallel to her clan’s land, but on the wrong side of the border. When Allyson realized they had no intention of stopping near the Hermitage, she used the dark to hide her movements. She pulled the shawl from around her neck and frayed the edges, dropping pieces of bright colored yarn on the ground. No one could see them in the dark, but in the sunlight, they would leave a trail. She prayed her father made it far enough south to return to their land. He might assume she’d gone home, and he might even look for her across the border since he knew she had a terrible sense of direction. At least she hoped he knew. She was unconvinced her father was any better acquainted with her than most strangers; he’d never taken the time to get to know her. Perhaps someone in their clan would suggest they look in England.
The sky was lightening as the air changed, and Allyson was certain it smelled like the sea. She strained her neck to look around, but she soon wished she hadn’t. She recognized the enormous fortress they were approaching, and she saw stars before her eyes. They were nearing Chillingham Castle, not only home to the Greys, descendants of William the Conqueror but also home to John Sage, King Edward’s chief torturer. She glanced at the men surrounding her, and several grinned at her discomfort.
“You recognize where you are,” the man who woke her stated. “You know who awaits you.”
“Why did we come this far? Or rather why were you reiving so far from here if the Greys support you?” Allyson yanked the gag from her mouth to question them.
“We go where the money is, and there will be plenty of money for handing you over.” The man who still held her reins tossed over his shoulder.
Allyson remained silent as they arrived at the gates to one of the most notorious castles in Northumberland. King Edward, the Hammer of the Scots, had stayed in the castle on his way to fight William Wallace. He’d left behind his most trusted soldier, giving him carte blanche to rain down terror on all Scots near and far. She could only imagine the vile depravities and pain that awaited her. Marrying Ewan became more appealing by the minute. Her impetuous decision would probably get her raped and killed. Allyson entered the bailey with her hands still bound, but her shawl no longer existed. She’d dropped the remaining length when she recognized where they were taking her but before they would notice her actions. Allyson remained motionless until a guardsman pulled her from the saddle. She stumbled and pitched forward, landing hard on her knees. No one offered assistance as she struggled to get to her feet, her skirts twisted around her feet.
The massive castle doors opened and two men along with a woman emerged. The woman was stunning, willowy, with graying hair. Despite her age, she was still remarkable, and Allyson couldn’t look away until movement in her periphery distracted her. She looked at the man who walked with a limp and gasped. She was watching Sir John Sage coming to greet her or, more likely, assess how he would torture her.
“Who is this?” The man who stood next to the elegant woman demanded. Allyson deduced they were Sir Thomas and Lady Agnes Grey. The older knight had an illustrious career fighting on behalf of King Edward. He’d moved through the ranks, surviving one battle after another. While John Sage might have a sadistic streak, Sir Thomas wasn’t to be underestimated.
They’ve brought me to hell on Earth. This is where I shall breathe my last.
“One of the Elliot daughters. She hasn’t said which one.” Allyson wished she could stick a dirk in the man who kept announcing her identity. Lady Grey approached, and a chill ran down Allyson’s spine when she noticed the gleam in the older woman’s eyes. It was lascivious and calculating. The woman swept her fingers along Allyson’s jaw before grasping it in a tight grip, turning her head one way then another. Allyson felt like a horse at market, waiting for Lady Grey to curl her lips back to test Allyson’s gums. She braced herself not to flinch or cower. She looked over the woman’s shoulder until Lady Grey curled a lock of hair around her finger and tugged to bring Allyson’s head closer to her.
“You’ll do well here,” Lady Grey purred. Defiance crackled between Allyson and her new tormentor. “You haven’t told us your name. Where are your manners?”
Allyson glanced at the woman and offered her a practiced court smile. It was coy and suggestive at the same time. “Wouldn’t you like to know, my lady?” Allyson’s voice matched the saccharine sweetness of Lady Grey’s.
“Playing the coquette won’t endear you to me, even if the men find it alluring. You need an ally here if you wish to survive, so I wouldn’t piss that away.” Lady Grey’s jaw firmed as her eyes narrowed. “Your stay can be one where you are an untouchable and honored guest, or you can be a toy for any man interested in tupping a nobleman’s daughter. Either way, Sir John will ensure you don’t cause any unnecessary difficulty.”
“Perhaps a tour is in order, my lady,” Sir John wandered closer, and once more Allyson steeled herself not to flinch or cower. The man’s reputation for sadism preceded him, and Allyson was well aware of the torture chamber that lay in the castle’s du
ngeon. After William Wallace’s attack that killed much of the surrounding village’s women and children, Sir John arrived to instill fear in everyone within a day’s ride of either side of the border. She’d heard his name before she left home; parents used it like the bodach—the bogeyman—to scare children into listening to them. Now she stood face-to-face with the monster of her childhood nightmares. He was an intimidating figure despite his limp, but upon first glance, no one would guess the horrors he perpetrated. There was a haunting emptiness in his eyes, as though he were devoid of a soul, and Allyson supposed that must be so, for him to be capable of the atrocities she’d heard of. She didn’t want to imagine the ones she hadn’t heard.
“I believe once we know this young lady’s name, we’ll find her more agreeable. Your reputation appears to precede you once more, Sir John. I don’t expect to have many problems from her now that her memory has been jogged. I suspect she’s familiar with what lies in our dungeon.” Lady Grey chuckled as she glanced at her husband and Sir John.
Allyson nodded once before clearing her throat. “Lady Allyson, my lady. My name is Allyson, and I am Laird Elliot’s youngest child.” She watched the looks exchanged between the lord and lady along with the ones that passed to and from the retired knight.
“I will have her shown to a chamber where she can bathe and ready for the morning meal.” Lady Grey spoke to everyone and no one before turning to Allyson. “You’re in time to break your fast.”
Allyson followed the trio into the Great Hall and missed a step when more than a hundred pairs of male eyes turned toward her. Every guardsman and male servant at Chillingham must have been present for the morning meal. Allyson felt like the proverbial lamb to the slaughter. She kept her eyes straight ahead as a maid led her to the stairs and to a chamber where she waited for the bath to arrive. She declined the maid’s offer to help her bathe because she needed time alone to assess the situation and begin planning. Allyson looked out of the window to orient herself within the castle and the surrounding land.
The chamber faced the rear of the keep, but it was too great a height for her to leap from the window and hope to survive. She crossed the chamber, and as she suspected, they’d locked the door. She placed her ear against the wood and could hear movement on the other side, even though she couldn’t distinguish what it was. Allyson presumed they posted a guard lest she try to escape when the servants arrived with the tub and hot water. She rushed to lay out a fresh kirtle, chemise, and stocking before the maid returned to direct the filling of her bath. Once she was alone again, she peeled down her stockings and removed the dirks strapped to her legs. She had a knife on the inside of one thigh and the outside of another. If ever a man raised her skirts against her will, she was prepared to defend herself. Part of the reason she didn’t want any help was because she had no desire for anyone to discover where she stashed her weapons. She pulled a sign dubh from its sheath at her waist. It looked like an ordinary eating knife while tucked away, but it was far more deadly. The short blade was razor sharp and pointed. She’d begun carrying it soon after arriving at court and the first unwelcome suitor attempted to accost her in a darkened passageway.
Allyson resolved to bide her time, obey her captors, and tuck away any information that might aid her newest escape endeavor. In the meantime, she would do what she could to get along and be as unobtrusive as possible. She appreciated the plain kirtles she had in her satchel, as opposed to the gowns she would have donned at court.
Chapter Ten
The sun’s first rays poked above the horizon as the Gordon twins prepared to mount alongside the other men in the search party. They would need the daylight to track Allyson. Ewan led the charge through the portcullis, but he swerved toward a copse of trees. His intuition told him Allyson must have stopped there if she hadn’t approached the keep. He reined in before dismounting when he spotted the disturbed earth. He kneeled and swept his hand over a spot where several hoofprints overlapped. He looked around and noticed a spot where something squashed the grass, as though a person sat there for an extended period. Taking the reins of his horse, he followed the hoofprints that separated into individual trails but moved in the same direction.
“Either Allyson’s hiding nearby from whoever came into these trees, or they’ve taken her.” Ewan looked south toward the invisible boundary between Scotland and England.
“Ewan, come look at this,” Eoin called to him. His brother had examined the same spot where the grass was disturbed but moved a few steps away from the hoofprints. When Ewan approached, Eoin pointed to a patch of dirt Ewan hadn’t noticed. “There was some struggle. Look at the footprints. Their pattern is in too much disarray to be men who stood around talking. These boot prints are smaller than the others.”
“Someone’s taken her then.” Ewan suspected he knew who took her and feared where she was being taken.
“It’s those bluidy reivers,” Kenneth proclaimed. “And they’ve dragged her to Chillingham. If they rode through the night, then they will be there. We ride for the border and the pieces of shite who took my lass.”
The party rode south the five miles that separated the Hermitage from England and crossed over. Ewan’s gaze alternated sweeping the surrounding landscape and watching the trail of hoofprints. They hadn’t traveled far into England before Ewan’s brow furrowed when he noticed a brightly colored piece of wool beneath his horse.
“Halt!” Ewan swung down from the saddle and pulled the threads loose from where horse trampled them into the grass. “This is yarn. I can’t imagine a man wearing aught this bright a shade of green, so my guess is it came from a woman’s clothing.”
“Let me see,” Kenneth examined the wool, then clenched it in his fist. “The last time Allyson was home, she helped die several spools of wool then began knitting a shawl that included yarn this color.”
Kenneth only knew of Allyson’s project because he’d had to pay for the expensive dyes and had objected, arguing it was frivolous. He’d hurt Allyson’s feelings and had seen the disappointment in her eyes. She’d offered to unravel the shawl and find a better use for the wool, perhaps making something for the less-fortunate members of their clan. Kenneth had felt so guilty that he refused to allow her to destroy what he could tell she’d worked hard on.
“My laird!” A guardsman at the head of the entourage called out. “I can see another piece of wool up ahead.”
Ewan jogged to where the warrior pointed and discovered several purple threads. They looked like they’d come from the frayed end of a garment, but it was another sign Allyson had passed that way.
“She wouldn’t have dropped these if she wasn’t leaving a trail. She knew people would follow her, but we have answered many a prayer tracking her with little difficulty,” Eoin commented.
The riders pushed on, following the ongoing trail of fabric until Chillingham lay over the next rise, and the remnants of a tattered shawl lay on the ground.
* * *
Allyson forced herself to swallow another spoonful of porridge. It looked and tasted more like sludge, but she understood she needed the sustenance, or the lightheadedness she experienced as she stepped out of the tub would leave her unable to protect herself. She kept her head lowered as she ate, but her gaze shifted among the people gathered on the dais and at the tables below. The only women she noticed were the servants, and many of them looked haggard, sporting bruises on their faces, necks, and arms. Allyson could only imagine what their clothing hid. She shuddered as a warrior grabbed a young woman’s arm and pulled her into his lap before squeezing her breast. Allyson saw more than heard the responding whimper, but what concerned her the most was the woman’s acceptance of the poor treatment. She tolerated being manhandled even when she flinched as the man’s hand wandered up her leg beneath her skirts. Allyson used all the restraint she possessed not to order the man to cease, realizing making a scene would endanger her and the servant.
“I propose that tour is in order, my lady.” Allyson j
umped at Sir John’s menacing tones, but she could do little more than nod. She laid her spoon on the table and rose, hesitating before placing her hand in Sir John’s. He guided her off the dais and toward the doors of the Great Hall, leading her outside. “You had the opportunity to see the bailey when you arrived, but there is much that lays around the keep that might hold your interest.”
Allyson managed a nod while fighting a cringe as Sir John’s hand clasped hers in what appeared like a lover’s hold, but crushed her fingers. She held her head high and her back straight as Sir John led her from one building to another. She didn’t understand his interest in showing her so many storage rooms until she realized he was offering her places to hide as he taunted her with a game of cat-and-mouse. He wanted her to attempt to flee, and he wanted to be the one to find her. They returned to the keep through a side door before Sir John pushed her toward a descending set of stairs. Allyson was certain the dungeon laid at the bottom, but Sir John crowded her, denying her any chance to turn back. Lest she tumble down the steps and injure herself, Allyson had no choice but to walk down them. When they reached the base, Sir John’s breath tickled her ear as he reached past her to unlock a door. As he retracted his arm, his hand pressed against her breast before sliding down the front of her gown. Allyson could feel the metal of the keyring as Sir John used his other hand to open the door. He’d used his body to cage her in, attempting to intimidate her with his size and proximity. He intended her to understand that he remained in control, since he possessed the tool that could free her or lock her in.
Sir John was in no rush to reach their destination, making it appear as though they were strolling through a park rather than a dungeon. When they reached the end of the corridor of cells, many of which contained battered and broken men and women, the knight swung a large door open and nudged Allyson to enter the pitch-black chamber. She waited for what felt like an eternity before light flooded the room from the torch Sir John placed in a wall sconce. She recognized his tactic of trying to terrify her by leaving her alone in the unknown. Like an unpredictable wild animal, Allyson wouldn’t allow him to smell her fear. She’d intuited he’d brought her to his torture chamber, but she was unprepared for all the devices intended to create pain. Her eyes traveled over whips, cat-o'-nine-tails, metal cuffs, and wooden paddles before settling on the enormous stretching rack that appeared to take pride of place in the center of the floor. Allyson smelled the stench of death as much as she noticed the blood that stained the floor, parts of the walls, and was ingrained in the wooden table.
A Rogue at the Highland Court: An Arranged Marriage Highlander Romance Page 7
