by B. J. Scott
“Your honesty is refreshing and welcome,” Gwen replied. “I must say I was very relieved when he finally backed down. But for a while, I feared he might take me against my will. Thank the Lord he was not too drunk to listen to reason.”
Keeping her voice low, Enid leaned in close and spoke to Gwen. “Reason has never worked with Laird Gower in the past. Mayhap you have magic you dinna know about.”
Gwen rose and went to the window, threw open the shutters, and inhaled a deep breath of fresh autumn air. “Perhaps he has never had to face or deal with a man like Damen before.”
“I am not sure I understand, m’lady.”
“Damen is a fierce and vindictive man—unlike any I have known before.” That was saying a lot since while studying to become a lawyer, she’d sat in on the trials of the most notorious men in the US—ruthless men who would slit their own mother’s throat in a heartbeat. However, by comparison, Damen made these men look like boy scouts. “He is not a man who will yield the upper hand and is not someone who is easily double-crossed. I pity the fool who tries.”
A puzzled expression crossed Enid’s face. “What has that to do with Laird Gower leaving your bedchamber unsated?”
“I reminded him about the pact he signed with Damen, and how upset my brother would be—not to mention my father—if he learned Laird Gower harmed or dishonored me. The arrangement was a betrothal, followed by an exchange of predetermined chattel and land, then the marriage.”
“And Laird Gower backed down?”
“It’s my guess, Damen’s reputation for being a ruthless devil, capable of harsh retaliating if provoked swayed him. “When I mentioned the treaty and possible ramifications if Damen though he was deceived, Duncan backed down.”
Enid wrapped her arms around Gwen and hugged her. “I am so glad you thought to mention it to his lordship. While I have na met your brother, his reputation is well known.”
“Unfortunately, it is only a brief solution, and I fear that eventually Lord Gower will disregard honor and take me. If not here, perhaps on the ship.” The thought made her blood run cold. Once aboard and at sea, there’d be nowhere to run or hide.
“Och, dinna think of such things.” Enid’s smile faded as she clutched a hand to her throat. “I’ll pray you figure out a way to stop that from happening.”
Gwen starred out into the bailey, and beyond to the shoreline. They’d exhausted the possibilities of what could happen between her and Gower in the next day or so, and decided to change the subject. “You said the laird didn’t come down to break his fast.”
“Nay. I suspected he had too much to drink and slept through the meal. He has been known to do that. However, one of the guards said he had a tray sent up to his solar, then rode out a short time later. He has yet to return.”
A wave of relief washed over her when she realized he might not know she disobeyed him again. But it wouldn’t be long before he found out. As Gwen returned her attention to the flurry of activity going on in the inner courtyard of the castle, she noticed a woman standing near the well. She narrowed her eyes to get a better look. “Beatha,” she gasped, then raced out the door and into the hallway.
“Lady Gweneth, where on earth are you off to? The laird willna be pleased if he comes looking for you and canna find you,” Enid called after her.
“I’ll be right back, but there is someone I need to talk to.” Gwen ran through the hallway, down the stairs, and out of the castle. She stood on the steps of the keep, searching the area near the well. “Beatha,” she called out and sprinted toward the old woman as she entered the woods. “Wait. I need to talk to you.”
Gwen followed Beatha into a clearing. “Tell me what I need to know,” she shouted, then fired off a barrage of questions. “How do I send Damen back to the netherworld? How do I go home? Did Lilith send you?”
Beatha paused then turned to face her. “The time is na yet right. Be patient, Gweneth. All will reveal itself when you are ready.”
“I’m ready now.” Gwen couldn’t believe this. After everything she’d been through, the woman was still talking in riddles. “The time is now. Tell me what I need to know. Please.”
“Soon, Gweneth,” Beatha said, then vanished.
Gwen stood in the middle of the clearing, stunned by what had just happened and even wondered for a moment if she’d imagined Beatha’s presence. Maybe she was losing her mind. Regardless, Beatha was gone and Gwen still didn’t have a clue how to solve her dilemma. Frustrated, she turned to go back to the castle, but froze in her tracks when she saw Laird Gower atop his horse, scowling at her.
Chapter Fifteen
Laird Gower’s glower of disapproval caused Gwen’s stomach to sour, and the hairs on the back of her neck to bristle. She had no idea what he was thinking or what he might do, but he certainly did not look pleased.
“What is the meaning of this?” he roared. “Did you think you could run away the first time I turn my back, humiliate me in front of my clan?”
“Please, I wasn’t trying to run away. I saw someone I thought I knew and needed to talk to them.”
“Liar! Do you think me a fool?” After a quick perusal of the area, he focused on Gwen. “I see no one. You were trying to run away. Admit it.”
“The woman I thought I knew turned out to be someone else,” she lied. She saw no point in mentioning that she’d spoken with Beatha. “I would not disgrace my family by running off. I intend to honor the treaty, just as I hope you will honor it too.”
“You have a loose tongue, woman. I should have ravaged you last night when I had the chance and showed you who is in charge. Mayhap you’d show me more respect.”
“The only reason you refrained was because you are afraid of my brother. And with good reason, I might add.” The words slipped out before she could stop them and she cursed beneath her breath. In this time period, her independent nature and need to speak her mind was becoming her greatest downfall. As difficult as it was to be subservient to this brute, she’d have to try. She quickly lowered her gaze. “Forgive me, I meant no disrespect, m’lord.”
“You insolent wench, I fear no one. Gower is one of the most respected and feared names in the Highlands, and no one tells me what I can and canna do.” He dismounted and stomped toward her, stopping an arm’s length from where she stood.
As tempted as she was to challenge him, Gwen remained silent. Gower obviously had no idea who he was dealing with when it came to Damen. But he’d learn soon enough if he dared cross him.
“I intend for this deal with the MacQuin to make Clan Gower even more powerful. That is why I will honor the agreement, na out of fear.” He took a menacing step forward, pinning her with his glare. “Once we are married and you become my property, things will change. You will do as I command and curb your sharp tongue, or lose it.”
Curbing her remarks was not going to be an easy task. At no time in her life had she ever cowered to a bully, and despite the fact that women in medieval times were subservient, and obedient, Gwen didn’t think she could ever comply. “I’m not an object that can be owned. I have a brain, thoughts, and feelings that I can’t tamp down. Respect is earned, not something you can demand.”
“I’ll show you the meaning of respect,” he shouted, then let loose with a backhanded slap that sent her to the ground. “When I give you an order, I expect you to obey. After I get through with you, there will be no more defiance. I’ll teach you to do as I say and you will never try to run away again.” He hovered over her with his fist raised.
She cupped her throbbing cheek and glared up at him. Tears welled in her eyes, but she held them at bay. “I told you I was not trying to run away. I was in my room, looking out the window, when I thought I saw someone I recognized from my father’s village. He has been very ill, and I wanted to see if she had news of his condition, so I sought her out and followed her here.”
“I saw no one leave the clearing. Did they simply vanish?” He motioned in all directions with a sweep of h
is arm. “Nay, I believe you planned to run and you will pay for your obstinacy.” He grabbed Gwen’s upper arm, dragged her to her feet, then hoisted her over his shoulder.”
“What do you think you are doing? Put me down,” she screeched.
“Exactly what I should have done the minute you arrived at my castle,” he snarled, and tightened his grip when she began to kick and punch his back. He strode toward his horse, then tossed her over his saddle. “You willna try to run again. I will hobble you if necessary.” He climbed up behind her, then turned his mount toward the castle and pressed his heels into the animal’s sides.
They entered the bailey, greeted by the shocked stares of the crofters and the drone of muffled whispers. When they reached the castle steps, Gower reined in his horse and handed Gwen over to one of his men. “Take her to the dungeon. She will learn to obey me.”
“The dungeon?” she squeaked. “You can’t seriously—”
“Silence, woman! You’ve done enough to humiliate me in front of my clan and my brother.” He cut her off cold. “You will stay in the dungeon until the ship sails on the morrow. That way I know where you are.”
She wriggled free of the guard’s grasp and approached the laird’s horse, hoping to make one more attempt to reason with him. “Please, I was telling you the truth. I was not trying to run away. I was only seeking news of my father. My intent was not to defy or embarrass you.” She had to get him to listen. If she wound up in the dungeon, there was no way she could seek out Beatha before the ship left for the Orkneys, trapping her in this living hell forever.
“Save your breath, woman. You will remain in the dungeon until we leave for the Orkneys. Once aboard if you try to run, you’ll drown. Dinna give me reason to punish you further,” the laird said, then stormed up the castle steps and disappeared inside.
“You heard Lord Gower, m’lady. I am to take you to the dungeon,” the guard said. “It isna a fit place for man nor beast, but I have my orders.”
Gwen couldn’t believe her luck could get any worse than it was already. The odds she’d meet up with the laird as he returned from his outing were so slim, yet it had happened. She wished she had run away, but there was nothing she could do now, but pray that he’d realize he’d over-reacted and reconsider. Again, the odds of that happening were next to none. She glanced around the bailey, hoping to spot Beatha, but there was no sign of her. If she needed the woman’s magic, it was now.
“Let’s go, Lady Gweneth.” The guard cupped her elbow in an attempt to steer her toward the castle prison.
She yanked her arm free. “I can walk on my own.” She inclined her chin and glared at the man. “Lead the way.” There was nothing she could do that would change her betrothed’s mind, and the guard fully intended to follow orders, but there was no reason for him to manhandle her. Determined not to humiliate herself any further in front of the Gower’s clansmen who had gathered to watch, she headed in the direction the guard indicated with her head held high.
Despite her brave front, Gwen was terrified of what lay ahead. She’d heard terrible stories about the dungeons and torture devices used in medieval times, and wished there was a way to avoid incarceration. One of her professors in law school insisted on comparing the justice system in the dark ages to present day and painted a vivid picture—one that nightmares are made of.
She slowed her pace, but the guard gave her a shove. “Keep moving,” he grumbled.
Nearly paralyzed with fear, she forced herself to continue the trek until she reached the entrance of the dungeon. “You really don’t have to do this,” she stammered. “I promise to stay in my chamber until the ship sets sail. No one need know.”
“You heard Lord Gower, and I’d be a fool to defy him.” He yanked open the door, then quickly covered his nose and mouth with his hand.
Gwen coughed and sputtered, the stench of human excrement and mold assaulting her senses. Her stomach roiled and she thought for sure she might vomit. “Lord Gower can’t seriously mean for you to put me in this place.” She squinted, trying to see down the dark, dank corridor. “You were correct when you said the place was not fit for man nor beast.”
“I know it isna pleasant and it pains me to do so, but I have no choice but to put you in a cell as instructed. I will fetch you a pelt so you dinna have to sleep on the filthy stone floor and a wooden pail in which you can tend to your needs. Believe it or not, you will eventually get accustomed to the smell.”
“I don’t see how that will ever happen.” As they traveled down what seemed like an endless passageway, Gwen swallowed hard—in an attempt to keep from losing her breakfast. When they reached the door of her cell and he ushered her inside, she gasped and clutched a hand to her throat. It was every bit as horrible as she’d imagined.
~ * ~
As they neared Gower Castle, Rory, Blair, and Kyle slowed their horses to a walk. “The sun has set and we are almost there, so we’ll make camp for the night outside the curtain wall in yon grove of trees, and proceed in the morning.” Blair said.
We are close enough, yet out of sight, and will remain so until we are ready to make our move.”
“What about Gwen?” Kyle asked. “Why not go to the castle now?” The thought of her spending one more night alone in the company of strangers, troubled him deeply.
“Finding the lass will have to wait until morning. We still need to figure out a way to get into the castle grounds. Unlike our visit to the MacQuin stronghold, we canna just ride through the front gates,” Blair said. “If you thought Damen’s welcome was bad, wait until you meet Duncan and Collin Gower. They make the MacQuins look like saints.”
“Blair’s right.” Rory reined in his horse and dismounted. “This clearing amidst the trees looks like a good place to make camp.”
While Blair’s description of the Gowers made him want to rush headlong into the stronghold and find Gwen, Kyle knew an impulsive act like that could not only get them killed, but put Gwen in more danger as well. Waiting until morning would not be easy, but he had no choice if there was any hope of saving her. Kyle dismounted. “What do you want me to do?”
“We’ll need some wood to build a fire. See if you can find any over there.” Blair gestured toward a thicket at the edge of the forest. “Then pile it up here.” He pointed to the ground at his feet.
“What if they notice the smoke?” Kyle asked.
“We are far enough from the castle that a fire willna be noticed, but close enough to search for a way to enter when the time comes,” Rory explained again. “It’s November and the sky is clear. It will be a chilly night and we’ll need a fire for warmth. We can also use it to heat some water and to cook our meal, but we must put it out before dawn.”
“While you gather the wood, Rory and I will take care of the horses and set up the camp.” Blair led his horse to a nearby tree, then removed his saddle, before coming back for the other two mounts.
After gathering some dry tinder and several thick branches, Kyle returned to the clearing and gave them to Rory. “Is there anything else I can do to help?”
“We have taken care of everything,” Blair said. “The encampment must be simple and easy to dismantle come daybreak. Once we get into the castle, and with luck, find Gweneth, we willna be returning to this spot.” He squatted beside the pile of wood, then repeatedly struck a rock to flint until he created a spark—igniting the tinder.
Following a light meal of dried venison and oatcakes, Kyle sat on a log beside the fire and warmed his hands over the hot coals. He’d always been an avid outdoorsman and had been camping since he was a boy, but doing so in Northern Scotland in early November put a whole new spin on the experience. It was one he’d never forget, but he wasn’t sure it was one he’d like to repeat. A warm bed, a roaring fire, and a hot meal sounded very appealing about now, but he settled for another oatcake and a rock for a pillow. He tossed a log on the fire, then huddled beneath his wool cloak, figuring one out of three wishes would have to do.
> “It is getting late and we have to make an early start,” Blair pointed out. “Best we get some sleep. If you’ll take the first watch, Caol, Rory and I will do the rest.”
“Sounds good to me.” Kyle stood and secured his broadsword at his side, draped his plaid around his shoulders, then headed for the edge of the encampment. He didn’t mind taking the first watch, since he didn’t figure he’d get much sleep anyway. He couldn’t get Gwen off his mind and wouldn’t be content until she was back in his arms. God willing.
Chapter Sixteen
Gwen’s legs cramped and her back ached as she huddled in the corner of the dimly lit cell. The pelt the guard gave her to throw on the floor had been a godsend, but it was a far cry from making her stay in this hell-hole tolerable. He hadn’t lied when he told her she’d eventually get used to the horrible stench, but she’d spent the first few hours of her incarceration trying not vomit. She was exhausted, but the thought of the spiders and rats that inhabited the dungeon running up her legs made closing her eyes impossible.
She ran the events that led to her being here through her mind, but couldn’t think of anything she might have done differently. Beatha said her destiny was predetermined, but she found it hard to believe this was her fate. She also recalled Beatha telling her there was blood on the moon the night she traveled back in time. Was this what she meant by the impending danger, or was the worst yet to come? She shuddered at the thought.
When she heard the sound of footfalls in the passageway, her pulse kicked up a notch and dread twisted her gut. Someone was coming and she wondered who it might be. It could be the guard coming to check on her, but she feared it was her betrothed come to torment her further. When the petite form of a woman appeared at the door to her cell and she heard the soft lilt of Enid’s voice, she rose and moved toward her maid.
