by B. J. Scott
Fighting back the urge to defend herself and stand up to him, she peered up, her chin held high. “I explained that I was ill and meant no disrespect. I’m sorry if you thought I was disobeying your orders and hope you can forgive me.” The words left a bitter taste in her mouth, but she suspected if she showed him any backbone or angered him further, he would force himself on her then and there.
“Forgive you?” he spat. “You humiliated me in front of my brother and his men when you dinna show up as ordered. Damen MacQuin promised me a willing bride, a virgin who would obey me and sate my needs when called upon. So far you have done neither. You are also na the woman I was promised.”
Gwen sat up and looked the laird in the eye. “If you are not pleased with me, I will gladly return to MacQuin Castle.” She figured her openness might evoke his anger, but also believed if you show a bully fear, they will feed on it and take advantage.
The laird’s glower intensified and he leaned so close, she could smell the overpowering stench of whisky on his breath, but she refused to look away.
“You are na the woman I expected, but you are bought and paid for, and will have do beneath the pelts,” he growled. “Damen will hear about it soon enough, and that I expect some compensation for the change. He promised me a buxom, raven-haired beauty with soft curves, not someone like you.”
Arrogant, bastard. I’d rather die than have you touch me, was the first thought that popped into her mind. But she kept it to herself. She couldn’t believe the insulting way he spoke to her, but honestly didn’t expect more from the barbarian, known as the Demon of the Kirkwall.
“You are right in being angry with Damen and should demand he honor his agreement,” she stammered. “He should never have made a substitution without telling you first, but I also had no say in his decision.” She couldn’t tell by his never-changing scowl if he was softening or getting angrier.
“He sent me a missive, explaining that his cousin, the lass who was supposed to be sent, was found dead in her chamber, and that he was sending you, his sister, in her place. He said he felt it was a better choice, given you are Laird MacQuin’s daughter, but I canna say I agree.”
Gwen’s heart clenched and her pulse began to race when she heard Ainsley was dead. Damen had told her and Lilith his cousin ran off in the middle of the night with her lover, but now Gwen wondered if he had the lass killed so he could send her instead, thus getting her out of the castle and protecting his true identity. “Our cousin was lovely and her death is certainly a great loss, so I don’t blame you for being disappointed.”
He pinched her chin between his thumb and forefingers and tilted her face toward the candlelight, examining her features. “You are comely enough, even if you are a bit thin for my liking, not to mention you have pale hair. But I supposes you will have to do.” He fumbled with the ties at the top of his trews, the fabric eventually falling open, exposing his burgeoning shaft. “Lift your night rail and let’s get this done.” He leaned forward and placed his hand on her thighs. “But first, I’ll sample the wares and taste you.”
He tried to pry her legs apart, but Gwen refused to yield. Her stomach churned at the thought of this horrible beast putting his lips anywhere on her body, especially where he intended. She wanted to kick him in the groin and make a run for the door, but figured she’d not get far, and once tackled, he’d beat her, then rape her.
She decided humble and sweet was the way to approach this delicate situation. “Please, m’lord, I beg you not to do this. We are not yet married and I wish to wait until we arrive on the island and have said our vows before God.” Her words obviously caught him by surprise and he released his hold, providing her with the opportunity to scoot to the other side of the bed and temporarily out of his reach. “Is that not arrangement you made with my brother?”
“My groin aches and I desire a tumble, now. Clearly inebriated, his words were slurred and he swayed as if about to lose his balance. “It has been a while since I had a virgin in my bed,” he growled. “Besides, Damen is na here.” He lunged forward, caught her around her waist, then threw her onto the bed. “We’ve tarried long enough.”
“He may not be here now, but Damen sets great store in this treaty and betrothal.” She, hoped the pact was as important to Gower as it was Damen and might reconsider his plan to rape her. “It is a sacred agreement meant to mend the discord between our clans and an end to the bloodshed. If you dishonor me or the agreement, mistreat me in any way, there is not telling what Damen might do?”
He halted and glared down at her. “Are you saying you refuse to lay with me?”
“I’m saying the treaty is important and I don’t want to do anything to jeopardize its success,” Gwen replied. “I was not raised in MacQuin Castle and was only this week reunited with my family,” Gwen stammered. “But I quickly learned that Damen is not someone I would rile or double-cross. To dishonor me is the same as dishonoring my brother and father. I ask you, m’lord, is a tumble out of wedlock worth risking all you have worked to achieve?”
“Damn you Damen,” he cursed, the spun on his heel and stormed out of the room.
Once she was certain he would not be back, Gwen curled up into a tight ball in the center of the bed, sobbing. She’d come perilously close to being raped and prayed she’d figure out a way to get away from here before he tried again. “Kyle,” she muttered his name on a whisper, wishing he was the one here and the laird was the nightmare.
Chapter Fourteen
The castle guard stared down at Blair, Rory, and Kyle. “You are in luck. Lord Damen must be in a generous mood. He has agreed to see you.” He stepped out of view, then the portcullis inched open.
Kyle was grateful Blair and Rory had agreed to come with him to MacQuin Castle in search of Gwen. True, he had to endure their non-stop ribbing and jokes about his sexual prowess, and persuading Laird MacKay to let them go to the castle of their enemy had not been easy. Fortunately, in the end, he managed to convince them all he was justified in seeking out Gwen, and they agreed to help.
The three men entered the bailey, greeted by the gawks of the MacQuin villagers. They road through the streets, arriving a few minutes later at the castle steps. Kyle was starting to feel very much at home in the fourteenth century and there were even times when he thought living here might not be so bad. Life was certainly less complicated than in the twenty-first century. If you didn’t count the feudal system of government and the fact that England was trying to assimilate the country.
A short, stocky man, whom Kyle guessed was in his mid-to-late forties, met them at the door. “I’m the castle steward, follow me.”
A man of few words, the steward didn’t bother to give them his name, which Kyle found odd, but he wasn’t here on a social call. He followed the man down a long corridor and into the great hall, where he spotted a dark figure standing by the dais. “Damen,” he muttered with distain, shocked when the man whipped around and glared at him. He’d barely spoken above a whisper, so there was no way Damen could have overheard him, yet the man ogled Kyle as if he had and knew his inner thoughts. If what Beatha said was true about him being fae, maybe he did know what his guest was thinking.”
“Perhaps this was a mistake,” Damen snapped. “I am a busy man and dinna have time for visitors. If you havena heard, my father had a spell and I am acting as laird until he recovers. I’d like you to leave, now,” he ordered, then faced the steward. “See them out at once.” Damen turned to leave, but Kyle hurried forward and clasped his arm.
“I understand your father is ill, but this won’t take long,” Kyle said. “The least you can do is hear us out.”
“Unhand me,” Damen growled. “I dinna have to do anything, and if you dinna leave, I will have you thrown in the pit.”
Blair moved forward and wedged himself between Damen and Kyle. “Let’s stay calm and talk about this.” He shot Kyle a look of disapproval that made him back off.
“There is naught to discuss,” Damen s
aid. “Leave.” He pointed to the door of the great hall.
“Not until you tell me where I can find Gwen,” Kyle blurted.
“Who?” Damen acted like he had no idea who Kyle was talking about.
“Gweneth, your sister. I want to see her, now.”
“She’s gone,” Damen hissed.
“Gone where, you bastard?” Kyle lurched forward and grabbed Damen by the front of his tunic. “Tell me where she is.”
This time both Blair and Rory moved forward, each one taking one of Kyle’s arms, and hauling him off Damen. “I’m sorry,” Blair said. “If you’d just tell him where he can find Gweneth, we’ll leave.”
“By now she’s married and on a ship to her new home, so best you forget about the chit and dinna come back.” Before he could ask any more questions, Damen left.
“No!” Kyle crumpled to his knees. “We are too late.” He buried his face in his hands. “I’m sorry, Gwen, I failed you when you needed me most.”
“Calm down. We’re na sure she’s married yet and maybe we can reach the coast before the ship leaves,” Blair said. “All we need do is to find out where she was sent.”
“Damen is not going to tell us,” Kyle replied sharply. “I need to think. I need some air.” He stormed down the hall and out of the castle, not stopping until he reached a small garden outside the castle kitchen.
“You give up too easily, Caol MacKay.”
Kyle spun around, coming face-to-face with Beatha. “I’m no quitter, but I arrived too late to save her. Gwen is gone and likely married. You know what that means.”
“It means you give up too easily,” Beatha repeated, this time with more conviction. “Anything worth having is worth fighting for. If you truly love her, you’ll find her, Caol.”
Kyle glared at her. “I have no idea where to look. Damen will never tell me where she is and Scotland is a big country.” He hung his head, feeling defeated. “I let her down.”
Beatha clucked her tongue and shook her head. “You let yourself down by quitting. If you want to know where she is all you need do is ask me.”
Kyle grabbed Beatha by the shoulders. “Are you telling me you’ve known where she is all this time? Why the hell didn’t you just tell me?” It took every ounce of his self-control not to lose his temper. He needed her to tell him where Gwen was and once he’d found her, they needed the old woman’s help to get back to their own century. But it still didn’t explain why she’d kept him in the dark and wondering where to find her.
“Why did you put me through all this worry and trouble? Tell me where she is and if she’s married,” Kyle demanded.
“I told you, things worth having are worth fighting for. And I had to be certain your love and devotion genuine and na just empty words.”
“Hopefully, I’ve proved to you how much Gwen means to me. Now, please tell me where I can find her before it is too late.”
Beatha hesitated for a few moments, then answered. “You’ll find her at Gower Castle on the northern shore, about a day’s ride from here. Damen sold her in marriage to Duncan Gower, knowing he would take her to his home on the Orkneys. His brother Collin is also a laird and owns the castle on the coast.”
Dread twisted his gut and his chest tightened. He now knew where Gwen was, but not if she’d been harmed in any way. Nor did he know if he could reach her before the ship set sail. “Are they married yet, has he hurt her?” Kyle blurted. He had to know.
“They are na wed, but soon,” Beatha said.
“When, how—” Kyle began, but stopped when he realized Beatha was gone. “Damn it, old woman!”
Blair and Rory entered the clearing. “Who are you talking to, cousin?” Rory asked. Both men scrutinized the garden before fixing their stares on Kyle. “There is no one here. Have you lost your mind?”
Kyle spun on his heel and strode toward the horses, his cousins following behind him. “I’m not crazy. Where is Gower Castle?”
Rory grabbed Kyle’s shoulder and spun him around to face him. “Gower Castle? Why do you ask?”
“That’s where Damen sent Gwen. She’s staying there until the ship leaves for the Orkneys, where she is to marry Duncan Gower. And we have to get to her before they set sail.” Kyle broke free of Rory’s grasp and mounted his horse. “Are you going to tell me where it is, or do I have to find it by myself?”
Rory glanced at Blair, then faced Kyle. “What makes you think she’s there? Damen never said where he sent her.”
Kyle hesitated for a moment. If he told them how he knew where Gwen had been taken, they’d think him mad—or they would after they finished rolling on the ground laughing. “A maid from the castle told me where she is. Are you coming with me or not?” Kyle quickly changed the subject and pointed toward the horses, hoping they would just take his word for it and agree to go along.
“What maid?” Rory took another look around the clearing before addressing Kyle. “You are alone, man.”
“She was here, but left before you arrived,” Kyle replied. “Besides, what difference does it make how I know? I just do.”
“We saw no one enter or leave the clearing.” A frown creased Blair’s brow and he scratched his head. “If what she said is true, you may want to rethink your plan to go after the lass.”
“Why on earth would I do that?”
“Blair is right,” Rory said. “If you think the MacQuin’s are bad, wait until you meet the Gower brothers. They are feared throughout the Highlands, and evoke terror wherever they go. If Gwen is there, getting her out will na be easy.”
“Are you afraid of a challenge, cousin?” Kyle asked in a taunting tone.
Both men snickered at the implication, mounted their horses, then joined him. “Let’s go,” Blair said. It’s a good day’s ride or more to Gower Castle.”
Relief washed over Kyle when his cousins didn’t badger him any further. If forced to tell them the truth, it would not be easy to explain without disclosing the entire unbelievable story. He was still angry with Beatha for withholding information that could save Gwen, but decided it was better to concentrate on getting to their destination, rather than the old witch.
~ * ~
After the laird’s visit, Gwen couldn’t sleep, not without keeping one eye open. Uncertain if he’d honor his word or decide to return at any minute, she spent the night pacing, wondering what she’d do if Lilith couldn’t find Beatha. Rather than go down to break her fast in the morning, she stayed in her room, grateful that Laird Gower hadn’t come looking for her again.
When she wasn’t worrying about how to stop the wedding and how to keep the laird from touching her, thoughts of Kyle and the life they might have had together flooded her mind. She wished she hadn’t been so stubborn, that she’d trusted him when he told her they belonged together, when he promised he’d make her happy.
“Are you awake, Lady Gweneth?” Enid called from the hallway.
“Yes. Come in.” She scrubbed the heel of her hand across her tear-stained cheeks, sat, then scooted to the edge of the bed.
Enid entered, carrying a tray of food. She placed it on a table by the bed, along with a clay jug and pewter mug. “You never had anything to eat before you went to bed and dinna come down this morning to break your fast, so I thought you might be hungry.”
Her interest piqued and her stomach rumbling, Gwen examined the content of the tray. After tearing off a piece of bannock, she popped it into her mouth, followed by a piece of cheese. “Missing meals has become a bad habit,” she said, savoring the taste of each bite. She was so concerned about her situation, she hadn’t realized how hungry she was. She devoured the meal, then faced, Enid. “Thank you. I didn’t mean to be so greedy.”
“Dinna fash, m’lady, no one will know but us.” Enid chuckled and patted Gwen’s hand.
To her surprise, Enid made no mention of the laird’s reaction to her absence this morning. Gwen imagined he was furious, but was grateful he hadn’t come looking for her. “Was the laird angry wh
en I didn’t come to the great hall to break my fast?”
“He dinna show up either. Some claimed he spent the night in your chamber,” Enid said. “But I know that isna the case. I heard him shouting at you, feared he might do you harm, then saw him leave. I waited outside the door and when I heard you moving about, felt it best na to disturb you.”
“How much did you overhear?” Gwen chewed on her thumbnail as she replayed the confrontation over in her mind.
“I imagine I heard most of what his lordship had to say.” With downcast eyes, Enid shifted her weight from one foot to the other and twisted her hands. “Please forgive me, m’lady. I dinna mean to listen in on a private conversation, but the laird is na a quiet man when he is angry.”
Gwen rose and lightly stroked the maid’s shoulder. “You’ve nothing to apologize for. The laird was drunk when he came to my chamber and he made no effort to keep our encounter a quiet affair. I’d not be surprised if the entire keep heard him.”
“I am glad his lordship honored your wishes and will wait to consummate your union until you are wed.” Enid’s cheeks flushed red. “But his restraint surprised me. He has a reputation for bedding who he wants, when he wants.” She quickly cupped a hand over her mouth. “I should na speak so of your betrothed.”
“When you speak the truth, there is no reason for you to apologize.” Gwen sat on the edge of the bed and released a sigh. “I have no doubt my betrothed has the morals of a stray alley cat, and will remain about as faithful. “But to be very honest, I don’t care who he beds as long as he leaves me alone. If we never consummate our vows, I would be elated. If we don’t get married at all, would be even better.”
“But you were promised to Laird Gower by your brother and his lordship seems determined to hold him to his word. Unless you have magical powers, I see no way out of the wedding.”
Gwen shrugged. “I wish I did have some magic, but I can hope, can I not?”
Enid bobbed her head. “I suppose it doesna hurt to wish. However, I still doesna make it right for me to speak poorly of your betrothed. My mam is always telling me that I need to learn to curb my tongue.”
