‘What will you do?’ Her mother’s heart beat erratically, worried at all the terrible possibilities and the few good ones in this situation. Connor glanced at her and she held her breath.
‘She is a hostage now. Her kidnapping is a prelude to war.’
Her head spun even as her heart raced then and she felt her legs shake beneath her. Connor was at her side in an instant, embracing her in his strong arms.
‘Connor, you must—’
She would have offered up all kinds of solutions, all from a mother’s caring heart, but her husband, her laird, placed his finger over her lips and shook his head.
‘I know all the words you would speak right now, Jocelyn,’ he began. ‘Remember that she is the daughter of an earl and a chieftain. A widow to the great MacGregor chief. Tied to two of the most powerful families in the Highlands. The Mathesons would be fools to mistreat her.’
At this time.
She heard the words as though he’d spoken them. Their daughter was safe for now, though what safe meant could be another complete discussion.
‘For now, I am sending a messenger to Rob to ask for his terms.’
‘You will not attack?’ Her worst fear.
‘I can always attack,’ he said. The hint of bloodthirst in his voice revealed that the beast was still there and ready to rise when needed. ‘First, I will try diplomacy.’
‘I would see her,’ Jocelyn tried. ‘I would accompany Duncan to Keppoch and make certain she is well.’ Duncan would be the first choice to handle such a delicate and dangerous matter for Connor.
She pushed out of his embrace, determined to gather some clothing and supplies and be ready to leave. She and other wives had travelled with their husbands and kin on matters of state and clan business and this would be nothing different.
‘You will stay here and see to your duties.’
She tensed at the words and the tone in which he delivered them. Turning to face him, Jocelyn saw that he did not jest with her. He expected her to remain here while the fate of her, their, daughter hung in the balance. He expected her to continue to see to her duties and to act as though nothing was wrong. He expected her to …
‘Aye, I do, Jocelyn.’
They’d lived and loved so long now that he could indeed read her thoughts, though she considered that it might have been her face and expression that gave her away. She’d never been good at hiding her feelings—not long ago when they met and not now that they’d been married for almost a score of years.
She looked away from him then, trying to hold back the tears and anger that threatened to erupt. She would be of no help to her husband or their daughter if she fell apart as she wished to do in that moment. Tightening her lips so no words escaped, she thought on how her own goal could be accomplished even in the face of Connor’s resistance.
‘I think I prefer the devastated mother’s expression to the mutinous MacCallum one you wear now,’ he observed, crossing his arms over the wide expanse of his chest and glaring at her.
She shrugged and shook her head. ‘I know not what you—’
‘Come now, Jocelyn. We have been through so much together and I am insulted that you think I do not know what that look in your eyes and the tilt of your chin up ever so slightly …’ he said, as he reached out and outlined the curve of her chin and face down to her neck. Chills shot through her at his touch. Any time. Every time. ‘… means. It means you plan to defy me in this.’
‘Connor, surely—’ She withheld any further arguments.
‘I think I would prefer not to hear a lie from your lips,’ he admitted. His stern gaze gave her no sign of leniency, only understanding. However, her husband was an intelligent man who could make the right decisions when left to it. She waited and finally after several seconds heard his exhaled breath. ‘Do nothing that will lessen our chances of getting what we need. Pay heed to Duncan and Rurik.’
Duncan and Rurik? If he was sending both, he was preparing for war as well and making quite a show of strength. That manoeuvre could either impress the Mathesons or cause them to act rashly. She prayed in that moment that it was the former and not the latter.
‘When?’
‘We must wait on them and the messengers I’ve sent before sending armed men to his lands. Give him a chance to come to his damned senses and release her on his own.’ He paused then. ‘About a sennight, I would think.
‘You will do nothing that Duncan and Rurik do not give permission to do while there. You will remain within our camp and—’ When he began to announce a long list of orders and prohibitions, she stopped him the one sure way she knew would work—she stood on the tips of her toes and kissed him.
He clasped her shoulders and held her close, their breaths mingling, as he stared into her eyes and studied her face. Then he settled her back to her feet and released her.
‘You will be safe, Jocelyn.’ She nodded and began to leave, for there was much planning and packing to do. ‘And, Jocelyn? I am allowing you to go in case Lilidh needs you,’ he explained.
Those last words would haunt her days and nights until she next beheld her daughter and could ascertain for herself any damages done to her at the hands of the Mathesons.
Oh, woe to Rob Matheson if her daughter was harmed. Woe to him if he incurred the wrath of a mother! Connor could not be more dangerous than that.
Chapter Seven
Lilidh was out of breath and straining with each step by the time they reached the lower level where the hall was located. Dougal had gone slowly, but that mattered not right now. The pain in her leg, eased by the long soak in the hot water, was back in full force. Spasms pulsed through her leg with each step. Finally they stopped and Dougal let her catch her breath. When she looked up and met his gaze, she saw pity enter and she hated it.
‘Hold out your hands,’ he said. Dougal took the length of coiled rope off his shoulder, found the end and tied a looped knot in it.
Her time as a prisoner officially began now and all who saw her would know it.
She reached up and tucked the strands of hair that had come loose from the braid back behind her ears and then offered her hands to him. She needed to stay alive until Rob and her father could sort this out. She needed to remain unharmed or her father would not let a stone remain standing in this keep or village. So, she did not fight this.
When he finished, he let some rope drop between them and began to lead her into the hall. All the talking stopped as she entered and she could feel their scrutiny as she made her way slowly towards the front. To the dais where Rob no doubt sat eating. Along with the scoundrel Symon who’d brought her here. She swallowed back her anger with him, because she must stay in control of herself for now.
Her head pounded with each step. She noticed some of those watching muttered or whispered under their breath. Some looked away and would not meet her eyes. She saw hatred and distrust in some; in most she thought she recognised pity and sympathy. Especially from the women. By the time they walked the length of the big chamber, she was limping badly and out of breath again. But she squared her shoulders when she stopped before him, for she was a MacLerie and would not let them forget it.
‘Here she is, Symon,’ Rob said loudly enough for all to hear. ‘Not too coddled, as you accused.’
A young woman sat between the two men and she realised this must be the Lady Tyra who Beathas had mentioned. Lovely, with long, auburn hair and green eyes and a heart-shaped face, the look in her eyes seared Lilidh with hatred. As quickly as it had appeared, it was gone, and the woman turned her softened gaze towards Rob. Lilidh blinked, thinking that exhaustion had caused her to see something that was not there after all.
‘Must she be here at all? Her very presence insults me.’
Bold, this one was, to say such a thing. Lilidh was the equal to any noble-born woman, daughter of an earl, so to hear such a thing surprised her. Prisoner, aye, but a noblewoman none the less. Symon’s sister bowed her head—a humbling nod in other circumst
ances, but one played just for Rob and the others now. Even Lilidh could see it plainly.
‘Take her back, Dougal,’ Rob called out.
‘Hold!’ Symon shouted when Dougal took her by the arm. ‘She is a prisoner here and should not have a life of leisure while we wait to hear from the MacLerie.’
A few men called out in support of his words with loud, rude words and noises. From the sound of it, they believed she should be performing personal services of a kind she did not wish to think upon. She lifted her face and looked to Rob.
His calm expression surprised her.
He did not look as though he was interested in her at all. He stood then and walked to where Symon stood, ignoring the lady’s soft pleas to return to her. Now, watching her speak to Rob, Lilidh suspected that she was more than simply sibling to the brigand. When Rob reached Symon, he pushed his cousin out of the way and took her by the arm, tugging her up on the step.
‘Lady Lilidh MacLerie is mine. You brought her here, Symon, and I claim her as chief. For as long as she remains here, she is mine alone. If anyone else touches her, they answer to me.’
Her face must be the colour of her favourite ribbon—scarlet! How could he boldly claim such things when she stood there with them? And making such a claim in front of both Symon and his sister shocked her, but at the same time, it reassured her. His grasp loosened and she stumbled down from the step, regaining her balance once there. She thought him done, until he spoke once more.
‘But you are right, Symon. ’Tis wrong for a prisoner to expect to be treated as a guest. When I have no need for her, she will work in the kitchens.’
She could not help it—she gasped at his crude insinuation and his command. Work in the kitchens? She would not. Lilidh began to walk away when she found her path blocked by Dougal. ‘I am not your servant,’ she said to Rob and she faced him.
‘You will do what you are told to do, lady,’ Rob ordered as he approached. ‘You will do it when you are told to do it. Or I swear that I’ll be delivering your dead body to your father once he arrives.’
In spite of not believing he would harm her, the sight of his fists clenching and opening, clenching and opening, made her take a step away. She began to back up until Dougal blocked her path and she could go no further.
Was this was a Rob she’d never known? Unpredictable? Dangerous? Was whatever leniency he’d granted her the day and night before over now and did she face him as an enemy this morn? And she was not only alone, but also very overwhelmed and confused. Unable to stand up to him in strength or power, she did the only prudent thing in this situation.
Lilidh dropped to her knees and bowed her head.
If every foul word she’d ever heard or overheard tried to force its way onto her tongue and out of her mouth, ‘twas no fault of hers. Keeping silent at a time like this went against every fibre in her body and soul, but she was no fool. Staying alive to fight another day in another way was her plan. If it required her to swallow all those curses, then so be it.
For now.
Rob grunted from somewhere above her. He grunted! Then Symon seemed to copy the sound. From being raised around so many egotistical, proud, strong men, she recognised it as the sound men made when their pride was satisfied. When she dared to raise her head a bit, she watched as a satisfied smirk found its place on the face of the lovely Lady Tyra. Before she could think more on that, Rob spoke again.
‘Dougal, take her to the kitchens. She can begin there now.’
Dougal’s strong hands wrapped around her shoulders giving her more help in rising than was apparent to others, but she felt it. Once on her feet, he tugged the rope and led her from the hall. They talked about her as even she left and could still hear them.
‘Are you satisfied now, Symon? She will be worked from morning to night in the kitchens and then serve me in my bed,’ Rob said.
She so hoped Symon would not speak again, but from her short experiences with the man, she understood he would never give up the chance to have the last word. She prepared herself for something vulgar.
‘I am glad that you, at least, followed my advice on how to treat her, Rob. Tame her with a strong hand and keep riding the bitch until she cannot walk. It’s all she or her father will understand.’
Fury and pride waged a war within her. How dare they speak of her and of such things about her! Lilidh was about to stop and reply to the lewd words, but Dougal chose to give a real and hard yank on the rope just then and she stumbled forwards, staying on her feet her only thought. Laughter erupted around her. She dared a last glance back as they reached the doorway.
It was a hall divided. Though most of the men laughed, the women sat silently, directing looks of pity in her direction. More than one woman whispered something to her man which caused them to stop laughing. Only one group continued to call out, encouraged on by Symon. His friends, no doubt, and those responsible for capturing her at his side.
Another tug on the rope from Dougal and she shuffled along, limping as she went. If they all chose to believe it was from Rob’s treatment of her, she was not about to disabuse them of that notion right now. A prisoner, a hostage, needed to use whatever tools were at her disposal.
They made their way down the back corridors until they reached the kitchen. It bustled with people carrying out tasks to store and prepare food for the clan. Men, women, even boys, moved quickly in and out of the noisy room, all under the direction of an even-louder, huge man who wielded a large wooden spoon like a sword. When he spotted her and Dougal, he shrugged and frowned.
‘What is this, Dougal? Are you going through my kitchen to reach the dungeon now?’
The cook. As she thought.
‘She’s to work here, at the laird’s orders, I’m afraid, Calum,’ Dougal replied.
‘What am I to do with a lady in my kitchen? Did he think about that?’ Calum asked with the attitude of a man in charge who did not want interference from anyone. From the tone, she knew he did not expect an answer.
‘Here now, Calum,’ a woman interrupted. ‘I will see to her.’ The woman walked to the cook’s side and whispered something to him. Her words seemed to calm him, for he nodded several times before speaking.
‘Siusan will take her, Dougal.’ He motioned her away. ‘Any other orders from the laird, then?’ She knew not of a cook who appreciated any visitors or disturbances in their kitchen and Lilidh almost smiled at how closely Calum fit the mould.
Dougal shook his head and followed Siusan away from the main area. Still tethered to him, she went, glancing around the hustling place. They stopped before a large table in one far corner.
‘Give her to me,’ Siusan said, waiting and watching Dougal. When he held out the rope, the woman shook her head. ‘What good does a bound servant do me, Dougal? There is no task here that doesn’t use her hands.’
The stout woman placed her hands on her hips and stared Dougal down as Lilidh watched. Clearly, it was not something he’d considered on their way here.
‘She is a prisoner, Siusan. Not to have the freedom of a guest. Do you understand?’
‘Aye, Dougal,’ she said in a tired voice. ‘We have all heard about the laird’s plans for her. Work her here, work her in his bed.’ Lilidh blinked quickly, fighting back both a laugh and a retort. News travelled quickly, but even faster through the servants in a keep.
Silently, Dougal untied her hands and coiled the rope back up and pulled it onto his shoulder. She met his gaze for a moment and knew he was not amused. But, truly, what could he do? Or rather, what did he need to do? With her maimed leg, she would not be running away. In this place filled with Symon’s cronies who thought nothing of hurting her, where would she run?
‘She is not to be left alone. Someone on guard at all times.’ Siusan waved her hands in a sweeping motion, urging him out, so Dougal turned and left.
‘So, what can you do in a kitchen?’ Siusan asked as she pointed to a stool next to the table.
Grateful to sit aft
er so long on her feet, Lilidh walked slowly to it, held on to the edge of the table and lowered herself on the wooden surface. Looking up, she noticed that Siusan stared at her as she moved. Lilidh was about to answer her question, when the woman spoke first.
‘Has Beathas seen to you, lass?’ she whispered.
Siusan, like the others, thought Rob had beaten her. Since most had not seen her when she arrived in the hall, wrapped and filthy, it was a natural assumption to make, she supposed. Deciding not to say much about it, Lilidh nodded and looked away.
‘My mother made certain I can do most kitchen tasks, though I have little skill at cooking,’ she answered the first question instead. ‘I was expected to oversee my husband’s household,’ Lilidh said into the surprised woman’s face.
Siusan called one of the rushing-by girls over and took a basket from her. Reaching into her own belt, she pulled out a small paring knife and held it out to Lilidh.
‘Clean and chop these,’ she directed, as Lilidh took both of them. ‘And I’ll be having that knife back before you leave here.’
Lilidh smiled and when Siusan did as well, she knew she had not misunderstood the woman’s attempt at humour. Oh, there were many things she could do with that knife, but she would not risk it—yet.
She’d cleaned several baskets of vegetables when her stomach reminded her she had not eaten that day. Or even the last one, for all she’d had was Beathas’s concoctions. Siusan heard the rumblings as she moved around the table.
‘Have you eaten today?’ she asked.
‘No,’ Lilidh replied.
‘When last did you eat?’ The woman walked closer.
Lilidh shrugged, for she really did not know. If she’d slept through most of one day and into another, and had been on the road for another one with Symon, had it been three days? ‘A while.’
Within moments, a large bowl of broth and a chunk of bread were placed before her. A mug at the plate’s side. ‘Go ahead,’ Siusan said.
At the Highlander's Mercy Page 6
