“Mr. Bates?” the boy called, not looking up from his work. “That you?”
When nobody answered, he shrugged and started polishing.
“And curse the fellow, too,” he muttered. “I just want my dinner.”
Adeline let out a deep breath.
The light of the lamp cast a warm glow about the tack room, which, at least, let her see what she was doing. She needed a bridle and, ideally, a saddle too.
She leaned in and lifted a bridle from the hook by the door, covering the brass buckles with her hand to stop them hitting together and clattering. She moved so slowly, trying not to do anything that would alert the youth.
Easy does it, she told herself. One step at a time.
She got the piece of tack to the door, then jerked it around the corner, disappearing up the pathway as fast as she could. She reached the stall where her horse stood.
“Whist, lad,” she whispered. She reached up to his head and, carefully, lowered the bridle over his head. It was just light enough, still, to see the buckle. She sent a silent prayer of thanks to Old McNott, her stable master at home, who’d taught her to put a bridle on her own horse. The task came easily, and she leaned back against the wall while her horse snorted.
“What’s the matter wi’ ye?” the youth called truculently through the door, making Adeline tense.
When her horse made no further noises, the fellow seemed to lose interest. Tiptoeing around the corner, she headed back towards the tack room.
At the door, she traced a route to the nearest saddle. It was a little way away, perhaps five paces. She would have to get close enough to lift it.
Tiptoeing, she reached the saddle. The boy was working in earnest, spitting on the leather and scrubbing it. She hoped he was too absorbed in his tasks to see her as she lifted the saddle. It was heavy, and she grunted in surprise. The boy stopped.
“Bates?” he said.
Adeline froze. The saddle was in her arms. She stayed where she was, feeling her arms start to shiver as they held the weight still.
“Och, I dinnae ken what’s the matter wi’ these horses, the night.” The boy shrugged. “Full of mischief.”
Adeline could have cried in relief as he bent over his work again. Staggering a little, she carried the saddle to the door, boots quiet on the flagstone floor.
Out in the stables, she ran down the path to her horse’s stall. Barely stopping to breathe, she threw the saddle onto his back and tightened the girth. He snorted in surprise.
“No, Burrell,” she whispered. “Not now.”
He stopped shuffling and snorting and stood still, and she gently stroked his ears. She’d left the gate to the stall open and she slid her foot into the stirrup, then climbed up.
“Now, lad,” she whispered to him. “Off we go!”
Burrell, clearly eager for a ride, took off at a trot. They clattered up the pathway and to the big door at the back of the barn.
“What in perdition…?”
As the boy ran out of the tack room. Adeline heard him swear in astonishment. She could have laughed with sheer amusement and joy as she shot across the yard and to the gate. She was free.
Still laughing, she headed through the side gate, unmanned at this time, and out into the woods.
As they rode at a canter down the path, Adeline felt her mirth slowly recede. The forest was silent, the trees casting black shadows on a backdrop of charcoal and blue dusk. She branches whispered overhead as the wind blew. She was alone.
“Adeline,” she said. “What have you done?”
She shivered. Slowing her horse, she headed down the path. This was foolish. It was crazy. However, Alexander needed her. She would find him.
The ride was long. Adeline was glad for her riding gloves as they went through the cold forest. The night was dark and she strained to see the sign that pointed up the road that went north, then west, heading to Dunrade.
“Here it is. Easy, lass. You don’t do any good, losing your senses.”
She shook her head at herself. She was getting so jumpy. She’d almost missed the sign. In the faint moonlight, it pointed north, an eerie finger.
She headed down the road.
The night was colder now, and she rode at a walk, gathering her cloak around her. The road north and west was more open and she felt a slow, aching fear. Anybody could see her here – any bandits, any outlaws.
“This was not clever.”
Burrell snorted, and she patted his neck. They headed on into the night.
She had been riding for several hours when she saw the lights ahead. The manor! Standing out between the trees, briefly, it was a welcome sign. Perhaps another ten minutes – twenty at the most – and she’d be there.
“Come on, lad,” she said softly. “Almost there.”
They headed around the corner. It was a cold night, but the relief was heady. They had managed to make it through the forest, safely!
Adeline fought the urge to sing, though a song was on her lips. She grinned and let the first bar of it out.
“A lass was going past the north meadow…”
She heard a twig crack, somewhere about ten paces ahead. Then another.
Something was terribly wrong.
“Burrell,” she whispered, sensing some hidden menace. “I think we should go…”
As she turned her horse, she screamed.
The path was blocked by horsemen. There was no way back.
She wheeled Burrell round again, desperate, but there was no way forward either. They were surrounded. She twisted desperately to her side, but at that moment somebody fired into the air and Burrell reared and, screaming, she fell from the saddle.
Her last thought, as her head hit the ground and everything went black, was that somewhere she thought she’d heard the voice of Alexander.
IMPRISONMENT
“No!”
Alexander screamed, not realizing that he did so. He knew he was outnumbered and surrounded, but in that moment nothing mattered. Adeline screamed and fell, her hair billowing out around her like a cloud. Alexander ran to her through the ring of horses.
I knew they were up to something the moment I saw them leave.
He threw himself to the ground beside her.
“Adeline!” he gasped, taking her in his arms. “Adeline!”
He heard somebody snort. A horse bent down toward him, and the rider looked down at him.
“Get away from her,” the baron said.
Alex looked up at him. He recognized that bleak, cruel face. He stayed where he was, staring into the lifeless blue eyes.
“Go and cook your bollocks,” he said softly. “The lass stays with me.”
The baron’s eyes widened and narrowed again. He dismounted.
“Sir…” one of his men called. The big man whipped round.
“What?” he snapped.
“Sir, be careful? We dinnae ken if the lad’s armed.”
“I don’t care if he’s armed or not,” the baron snapped. “I’ll break his head for that.”
Alexander tensed.
“Sir?” the man cautioned. “He clearly knows her. Don’t you think we should find out why?”
McGuide frowned. “Aye, he knows her,” he agreed. “So what?”
“Sir, if he kens her,” the man said slowly, “that means something. Something you could use?”
The baron frowned again. Then, abruptly, he nodded.
“Take them both inside.”
The men with him dismounted, hurriedly, practically falling over themselves to do his bidding. Alexander felt himself hauled upright, strong arms underneath his. Somebody else lifted Adeline, pulling her from his grip.
“Don’t hurt her,” he shouted.
Somebody slapped him. He felt his nose start bleeding. He blew out the blood and glared at the fellow. The fellow looked back.
“That’s enough,” he warned.
Alex spat. He said nothing more, for the moment. Surrounded, outnumbered by five t
o one, he decided better to save his strength.
We need to get out of here.
He stopped resisting, and let the men drag him along the path. Two men ahead of them carried Adeline. Her head drooped on the fellow’s shoulder, jarring with every step. Alexander felt his blood boil. He wanted to kill everybody here. The dagger lay against his leg, concealed there. He prayed nobody knew.
“Sir?” one of the men called to McGuide. “Where do we take them?”
He shrugged. “The attic?” he suggested.
“Wouldn’t the cellar be better?”
“If the brat finds out I’ve locked his mama in the cellar, do you think he’ll trust me?”
“No,” the man admitted.
“Fine. Then do as I said.”
“Yes, sir.”
They were hauled towards the manor. Alexander heard the ring of metal on itself as somebody found a ring of keys.
“Bring them through the trader’s door,” the baron said. “And up to the attic.”
“Yes, sir.”
Alexander felt himself hauled bodily in through a wooden door and then dragged along a dark corridor similar to the one he’d used with Tam and, earlier, with Barra. He let the men haul him to a staircase, and then, obligingly, started to climb. The two fellows, grim faced, held his arms. He could hear the baron, walking behind. Up ahead, the man still had Adeline.
“In here?” the front most fellow called down, opening a door.
“Why not?” the baron asked. “Go through and lock the door from the outside. And lock this one, too,” he ordered another man, the one who had the keys.
“Yes, sir.”
Alexander let the two men march him up through the entrance way. He looked around. The room had clearly been a servant’s sleeping place – it had a tiny fireplace, white painted walls and a pallet, which was empty now. The man who had Adeline laid her on the bed.
“You mean to lock them in together?” he sounded shocked.
“Not much choice,” the baron said harshly. “I can’t exactly bring them through the house.”
The man looked scandalized, Alexander thought, but he nodded.
“Go and lock the outside door,” he told the foremost man.
The fellow nodded, then took the key and went out. Alexander heard the key turn in the lock.
Then, abruptly, he was let go of and his guards were going out of the door.
“How long are you going to keep us…” Alexander began. The door slammed shut. The key turned.
He ran to the bed.
“Adeline?” he yelled. “Adeline? My sweetness?”
He shook her, but she didn’t respond. Her eyes were closed. He could feel a lump on her head. He felt his heart turn to stone.
“Adeline. Oh, my sweetling. What were you doing here? How could you have risked yourself like this?”
He held her to his chest, rocking her. If she died, it would be his fault. It was only because of him, and his ridiculous inability to tell her the truth, that she’d come!
She could have been safe at home, in on the secret, awaiting his return.
“You idiot,” he said to himself. “Why could you no’ tell?”
He had never felt more foolish, more desperate, in his life.
He started to rock her again, squashing her to his chest, as if she was an infant, as if she were his lifeline. He rocked on his heels, and felt a tear streak down his face.
“Adeline,” he whispered into that fragrant, thick mane of hair. “Why did ye have to go and do that? Why do you care about me so much?”
He sobbed. Kissed her face. Rocked her again.
As he rocked, he felt something change. Her body had been pliant, but it tensed. He heard her gasp, barely audible.
“Adeline?”
He let her go and heard her grunt and murmur. She slipped out of his arms and onto the bed, then twitched.
“Adeline! You’re awake.”
She groaned and rolled over. He ran to her. She sat up and then retched, dryly, over the edge of the bed.
“Whist, lass,” he whispered. “Easy, then.”
She gasped and sat up. Then she cried out.
“Alexander?” she shot upright. “What…where…?”
“Whist, lass,” he said. “You’re in the attic. We’re alright. I’m with you.”
“What?” Adeline whispered. He went to her and sat on the bed, holding her hand.
“It’s alright, lass,” he said gently. “You’re at your house. You fell. You’re safe here.”
“The baron…”
Alexander nodded. “Aye, he was here, that blackguard. He had us brought up here.”
“He hasn’t…he didn’t…hurt you?” She clutched his hands, eyes big and disbelieving as she held his gaze.
Alexander stared at her. “Was that what you thought?” he asked. He felt as if his heart was slowly melting, slowly breaking. Was that why she’d ridden here? Because she thought the baron was going to hurt him?
Adeline chuckled. “You are such a sweet, daft fellow,” she said, lifting a hand to his hair. She stroked down the side of his head, a gesture of impossible tenderness. “Of course! Why else did I come here? What else could I think?”
“Adeline…” he lifted her hand to his lips, feeling tears streak down his face and not caring that she could see them. “You shouldn’t have.”
“Probably not,” she grinned. “But, then, you shouldn’t have come here. What were you thinking?”
“Your son needed my help.”
“My son?” she stared at him. He tensed. Then, to his utter amazement, she grinned.
“My son,” she paused. “Asked you for help?”
Alexander nodded, grinning uncertainly. “Yes,” he admitted. “Is that unusual?”
“Alexander, my sweetling, I can’t tell you how unusual that is. In all his days, I think he has asked me for help perhaps twice in his life. My son never trusts people. He trusts you, evidently.”
“He said so,” Alexander admitted, his throat abruptly tight.
“Well, then!” Adeline was smiling, tears in her own eyes. “Whatever happens, I am happy. I know my son accepted you. That we could have lived well together.”
She started crying, then. Alexander felt his heart stiffen.
“What do you mean, Adeline?” he whispered. “You think we won’t live much longer?”
Adeline gave him a small grin. “I’m just glad you’re here with me, at the end.”
“What end?” he asked, feeling a mix of desperation and horror. “You think the baron…?”
“What else can I think?” Adeline asked desperately. “If he planned for either of us to live, he’d not have locked us up together. And besides, he can’t lose face like this with my uncle. If Alec ordered him to marry me – and I have no illusions, I’m sure that was what he did – then he cannot risk defying him. If my uncle finds out how badly he’s dealt with all this, he’ll stop at nothing to take away his power. And for a man like the baron, that’s worth dying for – and killing for, most definite.”
Alexander swallowed hard.
“We have to escape.”
Adeline stroked his hair gently. “Oh, Alexander,” she said softly. “I’m glad I have you.”
Alexander kissed her, feeling his own lips tremble. However, he was not going to accept their fate. He leaned back and looked at her.
“We are not going to end this story,” he said.
“No?”
“No,” he said, squeezing her hand. “I want too badly to see what happened next.”
Adeline blinked, and he saw tears flowing down her cheeks.
“Oh, Alexander,” she whispered. “So do I.”
“Well, then,” Alexander said, throat raw. “What can we do?”
They were silent for a long while. Then he saw Adeline slowly smile.
“I have an idea.”
AN ESCAPE
Adeline stood behind the door. Holding her breath, she felt every muscle in he
r body tense and on edge. Outside the door, she could hear the sound of heavy steps coming up the stairs. Thud, thump.
“Now.”
The word was a whisper, Alexander’s lips barely moving as he said it. Adeline nodded.
Yes.
In her mind, she counted. The staircase leading to the attic – her attic – was not long. It would be four more steps now. Three more steps. Two.
One.
A thump on the door sounded, and then the jangle of keys. Adeline’s palms were slick with perspiration. Her heart thudded in her chest. She breathed in deep, slow breaths.
The door shot back with a speed that nearly sent it into her face. Opposite her, she heard Alexander take a step back. She couldn’t see him anymore, the door covering her vantage point into the room.
“Where is she?”
The voice made Adeline’s heart thud – it was McGuide. She gasped, then made herself be quiet. Everything hinged on his not knowing where she was.
“She’s unconscious,” Alexander said, sounding casual. “It’s the fever she had. She’s still suffering. I gave her a drink of Mrs. Merrick’s herbs, to make her sleep better.”
“Where is she?” The baron’s voice grated.
“There,” Alexander said. He sounded as if they were discussing vegetables in the market place. Adeline wondered how he kept so calm.
“What have you done?” the baron raged. “What ill meant work is this?”
He stepped towards the bed. Adeline had arranged her dress, stuffed with rags, to look as if a woman lay there, her head half obscured by her shawl.
Now.
Timing was everything.
Adeline exploded from her hiding place and ran at the baron, covering his eyes with her one hand, her arm gripping him round the chest, trying to hold down his left arm.
“Now!” she hissed at Alexander, as the fellow fought, with a strength she could hardly credit.
“Get off!” he yelled, swerving right and left, his hand clawing for her arm. He gripped her wrist and Adeline screamed.
“The keys! On his belt!”
Alexander, who was at the door, snatched a hand forward and grabbed the keys where they hung on a ring at the baron’s waist. Her keys, her belt. She felt a shock of anger at that, which surprised her. He had got her hand away from his eyes now, and she was doing her best to hang on, to hamper his left arm, which was grabbing at Alexander’s arm, trying to stop him as he wrestled with the key belt.
The Highlander's Brave Baroness (Blood 0f Duncliffe Series Book 10) Page 19
