by Aileen Adams
Truly, anyone but the man who knew him best would imagine no hostility or even suspicion on Richard’s part. Perhaps this show of friendship would lull Stuart into a false sense of security.
They entered the hall where much of the household—included the highest-ranking members of the guard—spent their nights. Now it was empty, clean, and the table which ran down the center of the room was set with wine and an array of cold meats, cheeses, and breads. There were even several types of sweet cakes. The lass to whom Richard had given orders took the orders seriously, it would seem.
None of this appeared to impress their guests in the least. Richard ignored their raised eyebrows and poured two healthy mugs of wine. “To our guest,” he announced, handing one to Jacob.
“Thank ye kindly,” he replied with what might have been a genuine smile if not for the cold, dead look in his eyes. “It has been a long journey, and we do appreciate your kindness.”
“Come, be seated.” Richard chose the chair at the head of the table, as was his right, and William stood beside him. While his hands were not on his weapons but rather clasped behind his back, he was deeply aware of their presence and of how easily he might reach them.
Jacob sat and motioned with one hand for his men to do as they pleased. They filled clay bowls with food—the devils were hungry, no matter how they pretended to be unimpressed.
“Now. What is this about reports you’ve received?” Richard folded his hands on the table. “They must have alarmed ye greatly if they were enough to inspire such a long ride.”
“Aye, they were quite… alarming.” His eyes cut to William once again as he drank his wine. “I had a matter of personal importance, ye ken. A piece of property was stolen from me.”
“Stolen?” Richard asked, while William bit his tongue and vowed to himself that he would not ruin anything for the lass by speaking out.
He would not give Jacob Stuart the satisfaction, for this was obviously what the man had in mind. He knew who William was and knew she must be somewhere within the castle walls.
“Aye. Stolen. Carried way in the night.”
“And just what would this property happen to be, might I ask? If it is not too personal a question, ye ken.” Richard did not move a muscle, and his voice did not betray his thoughts. William wished just then that he had learned to control himself as well as Richard had, for he was prepared to tear this bastard limb from limb for speaking of her as nothing more than a piece of property.
As though she were nothing more than a horse or a saddle.
“I believe ye already know.” Jacob’s tone was soft, even lilting. “I believe the man who stole it from me stands in this room. At your side.”
“It?” Richard looked up at William, his gaze a stern warning. “I know of no object which the captain of my guard might have stolen from ye.”
“Ye know damned well what I mean.” Gone was the pretense of friendship. “The piece of gypsy scum who escaped my cell.”
“Ye dinna speak highly of her,” Richard observed, his tone still cool. No longer friendly, but without the rancor which Jacob had adopted. “In fact, I would think a man would thank my captain for taking a piece of—what did you call her? Scum?—off their hands.”
“She belonged to me.”
“She is a free woman, and as such belongs to no one.”
“So ye admit she is here somewhere? That ye have her?”
“I admit nothing to ye, as it is none of your affair.”
“It is my affair, as she belongs to me! What about this do the pair of ye not understand? It was none of your concern,” he spat, eyes narrowed, pointing to William. “Ye ought to have kept riding, lad. My men saw ye, and I’ve received reports of the pair of ye riding through the Highlands since that night. I’ve been aware of every move you’ve made. I followed ye all the way here. I suppose ye aren’t half as clever as ye believe yourself.”
William remained silent. The most difficult thing he’d ever had to do, without a doubt. Only the fact that his silence seemed to drive Jacob mad made it possible.
The man’s face turned a peculiar shade of red. “Have ye lost the ability to speak, then? Are ye unwilling to defend your actions, knowing they happen to be indefensible?”
“Perhaps the man knows he has no need to defend himself or even to speak to ye, as he knows he did nothing wrong.” Richard leaned in. “Ye kidnapped a woman and held her in a cell. She was half-starved and covered in filth from what I hear. Ye meant to wear her down, did ye not? Ye wished she would tell ye of her family, the raiders, where they might be found. Ye wished to use her against them and collect a reward. Is that not so?”
Jacob all but sputtered, as did William. He forgot from time to time just how sharp Richard was. He need not be told the specifics.
“Do ye know they have already been captured?” Richard asked, and now he was toying with his prey. When surprise flashed across Jacob’s face, he nodded. “Och, aye, days ago. I suppose ye were too involved with following this man hither and yon to stay abreast of what took place. Those of us who remained at home to mind our lands and our tenants are better aware.”
Jacob sat back in the chair with a shrug. “What of it, then? It matters not in the least.”
“Does it not, now? Then I suppose ye shall be on your way.”
“Why would I leave so soon?”
“For one, ye are no longer welcome here. If half of what I’ve heard is true, ye are nothing but a tyrant. For another, there is no longer reason for ye to hold her. There will no longer be a reward offered for the capture of the raiders. She is worth nothing.”
“She is mine, and she escaped, and I will have her back. Perhaps ye dinna understand the meaning of honor here in the north—”
“That is enough!” Richard bellowed, blocking William’s attempt at lunging for the man as he did. “Ye will remove yourself from my castle and my lands immediately, and ye will never return.”
“Och, but I will.” Jacob stood, now flanked by his men. Their hands rested on their weapons—dirks, swords, pistols. “I shall return in one hour, and my men shall come into your castle and take what belongs to me. Ye have a short time
“Your men?” Richard asked, looking at the four he’d brought with him.
“Dinna fool yourself,” Jacob smiled. “Do ye believe I would come to ye with no more than four men? I’ve brought half my guard with me, and along the way collected every man willing to fight alongside me.”
“Why would they do that?” William asked. It was the first time he’d spoken, but there had been no holding back the question. “Who would fight when there is nothing to be gained?”
“Men who have nothing to lose,” Jacob smiled. “Though again, ye are incorrect. I intend to compensate them for their trouble.”
Richard snorted. “Can ye give them back their lives? For that is what they shall lose if they attempt to take this castle—or anyone in it.”
“So ye wish to believe.” Jacob continued to smile as he and his men backed away. “Ye shall see in one hour. If ye come to your senses, send her to me, and I shall be willing to pretend the entire affair never took place. Ye have my word.”
“As though I would trust your word.”
“As ye like.” Jacob shrugged as he and his men turned to leave.
“I could kill ye now,” Richard reminded him.
“My men will still come; they have orders to do so if I dinna return.” Jacob’s soft laughter echoed through the entry hall as he and his men left.
“I had assumed as much, though I felt it worth saying,” Richard growled as the five of them mounted. They watched the men ride away, walking the horses as though there was no need to hurry.
“Close the gate,” Richard ordered the moment they were outside. When the heavy chains pulled the door down, William turned to him.
“What shall ye do? Send her or nay?”
Richard merely scoffed at this. “What do ye think, man? Do ye believe I would turn her over to h
im for any reason? I never intended to. I merely wished to get a sense of the man before I ground him into the dust.”
With that, the castle sprang to life. William had trained his men to be prepared for just such an invasion, and they went about their orders without needing instruction.
Richard waved to Maggie, who’d worked in the household since he and William were lads. “I want all of the women down in the cells. A handful of the men will go with ye to keep ye safe. Ye still have the weapons in the kitchen?”
She was grim as she nodded. “Aye. We’ll do what needs to be done.” She led the women to the kitchen to fetch the weapons—dirks and swords from what William was aware of.
“What about her?”
Richard frowned. “What do ye think? I shall leave this to ye, as ye know her better than I. Do ye believe she ought to be left down there, that she would be safer there?”
“Aye. She’ll hate me for it, but she ought to stay down there. If all goes well, no one will never make it down to her.”
It was time for his men to prove he’d trained them well.
26
Shana was just beginning to consider working her hand free from one of the shackles when the sound of at least a dozen female voices rang out. They were growing louder, getting closer.
She dragged the chains behind her, going to the bars and craning her neck to look down the narrow corridor between the rows. The women—so many of them!—were pouring down the stairs, all of them armed.
“Hello! What goes on?”
They ignored her at first, or else they did not hear her. With all of the noise they made, all of their chatter and whispers and such, it was possible her voice had been lost among the others.
“Hello!” she cried out, louder this time. “What goes on?” It was then that she became aware of many voices coming from upstairs, and the pounding of feet.
Her heart began to pound as well. “Will any of you tell me what’s happening?” she demanded, now torn between panic and fury as they continued to ignore her.
One of them—she recognized her as one of the lasses who’d washed and combed out her hair that very morning—peeled off from the others and scurried down to where she waited. “They’re comin’,” she whispered, eyes wide.
“Who is coming?” Though she need not have asked. She knew in her heart what was about to happen. What she’d brought upon all of their heads.
Little wonder the women had ignored her.
“The one who was lookin’ for ye and Captain Blackheath.” The young woman’s eyes swam with unshed tears. “The laird sent us down here with weapons to defend ourselves.”
“All because of ye.” This was one of the older women, whose scornful glare all but burned a hole in Shana’s head. She was not the only one who shared this opinion it seemed, as many of the women shared her resentful expression.
“Jacob Stuart?” she whispered, her terror growing.
“Aye, Jacob Stuart,” the woman spat. “He gave the laird an hour in which to return ye. He said that if ye were not returned, his men would come back and attack the castle and everyone in it. He knows ye are here.”
This was nearly too much to be believed. “Th—this means Laird Richard will not turn me over to the Stuarts?”
“Aye. What do ye believe it means? And now we’re all in danger, thanks to ye.” Mutters and whispers accompanied this as the other women expressed their displeasure.
“How much time do we have?”
“We?” the old woman scoffed. “There is no we.”
“Please,” Shana whispered, staring at her. Willing the woman to meet her gaze, holding it once she did. “Please. I want this no more than you do. I wish to bring an end to this. But I need your help.”
“Ye canna help us,” another of the women muttered. “Ye have already done enough to put our lives in danger. The lives of our men, our brothers, and sons, and husbands. They shall follow the laird’s orders, because that is their duty. And they might die today because of ye.”
Shana willed back the tears the woman’s words inspired. “I did not wish for that to happen, for harm to come to anyone under this roof. Please. I know what I must do, but ye must free me. I will go. I shall offer myself to them. But I need ye to free me. Please.”
She began pulling her hand through the shackle, crying out as the iron dug into her skin and instantly began to tear it. “Please!” she wept, tears of pain and panic blurring her vision. Yet she continued to struggle.
There was so little time. She had to escape. She had to get out of the castle, somehow, and show herself to the Stuart men before they attacked.
William would fight for her, fool that he was. He might even die.
And she loved him. In spite of everything, there was no denying how the thought of him dying because of her—even though she’d done nothing to deserve Jacob Stuart’s ire—caused her chest to clench painfully and her throat to tighten so, she could barely breathe.
He was everything. The entire world. And he was going to fight for her.
Or, he believed he was. She would do everything in her power to stop it.
“What do ye think you’re doing?” the old woman bellowed as she rushed to the cell.
“I’m trying to get out of here so that I might turn myself over to Jacob Stuart. Do you not understand me? If you wish to spare your men a battle, you will help me. I do not have much time.”
The old woman’s mouth all but disappeared when she pressed her lips together in a thin line. “He will not be pleased.”
“He will be pleased when he does not have to fight for me. I know the laird wants nothing to do with this. I would not have brought this on any of your heads, this I vow. Now. Please. I beg you.”
They exchanged a long look.
The woman pulled out a ring of keys. “I hope I dinna regret this later,” she murmured as she went through her collection. “I truly do.”
“I shall worry about the Stuarts,” Shana assured her. “You need not pay another moment’s thought to me. And if the laird—or Captain Blackheath—ask why you freed me, tell them I would not allow the guard or anyone living in the castle to suffer. This is what I must do.”
In spite of these assurances, the woman looked none too pleased at having to open the door. She then unlocked the shackles. “I suppose we’re all fortunate that I keep a key to everything in the keep,” she muttered as she worked the locks.
“I need a weapon. Anything.” Shana rubbed her chafed wrists, red and raw from her struggles. When the women looked at her with doubt, she gritted her teeth. “They might wish to take me, but I will not allow them to do so without taking one or two of them along with me, if you ken.”
The young woman who’d first answered her questions handed over a small hatchet. “God bless ye,” she murmured in a voice thick with tears.
Shana gave her a short, tight hug before gathering her skirts and running up the stairs.
When she reached the top, she remembered one important thing, she had no idea how to escape.
Cries rose up all around her, both inside and outside the keep. Hold your positions! Man the walls! Archers at the ready! She pressed herself into a corner, deep in shadow, her eyes moving up and down the corridor. They would have closed the gates, would they not?
How could she find her way beyond the castle walls with men manning them, watching every move of everything on either side?
Perhaps if she begged one of them to let her out?
With the hatchet held up against her midriff—better than hanging at her side, she decided—she tiptoed down the corridor, watching all the while as men hurried to and from the courtyard and through the entry hall. None of them noticed her, either because she remained in the shadows or because they were too absorbed to pay her any mind.
The door was open, but the gate was closed as she had expected. What was she to do?
“Have any of the men gone down to check the cells?”
William’s voice. She loo
ked about in greater panic than ever when she heard him approach.
“Nay, Captain.”
“I ordered a handful of men down there to protect the women!” There was such force, such power. She had never heard him sound so, even when they’d fought.
It would hardly do to have him discover her. He would lock her up again.
Rather than wait for him to find her, then, she ducked into the nearest room and hid behind the door before he passed. Once he had, she looked around to find where she had hidden herself.
“The bastards!”
She jumped at William’s shout, which was followed by further shouts which she took to mean Jacob Stuart had not kept his word and waited a full hour.
They flanked us! Approached from the north and west! Breaching the walls!
Breaching the walls! They were coming in? How was it possible? Feet pounded down the length of the corridor as voices overlapped—furious, frantic voices.
Shana panicked, looking around again. A pile of furs in one corner brought to mind memories of hiding in Drew’s wagon. It was better than waiting out in the open. She ran to them, digging her way inside and pulling them about herself, leaving only a small space through which to see. The door was still partway open, giving her a view of the entry hall and part of the open front door.
Chaos, pure and simple. Men running to and fro, shouting orders, spilling out into the courtyard where—she gasped at the sight of men not wearing the same green sashes worn by Richard’s guard pouring in from elsewhere. They must have scaled the walls somehow, lowered themselves over the side opposite the gate. Now they dashed about, brandishing pistols and waving swords, shouting.
She held her breath as this unfolded, clasping her hands in prayer while still holding the hatchet. Oh, please, please, let them be victorious. Please, let him live, keep him safe. I beg you…
Men ran into the keep, one of them falling almost instantly as one of Richard’s guard skewered him with a sword. Another leapt over him and soon met the same fate, gurgling and choking on his own blood. Smoke filled the air as pistols were fired, and the ear-splitting cracks were followed by screams and groans.
