Captured by a Laird (24 page)

After weeks of dank and dreary winter mornings, the sunrise was glorious, filling the horizon with a glow of pink and gold. Telling herself this was surely a good sign, Alison hurried up the stairs to fetch her daughters.

Flora was snoring loud enough to shake the bed, but she looked no worse than usual. Alison kissed the old woman’s forehead before shaking her daughters awake.

“I don’t want to get up yet,” Beatrix complained, as Alison hurried her sleepy daughters into their clothes and heavy capes.

“Hush,” Alison said. “We must be quick.”

“Why?” Margaret asked, rubbing her eye.

Alison felt guilty for rushing them out of bed, but her uncle’s message sounded urgent—and one did not keep the bishop waiting.

“’Tis a lovely morning,” Alison said. “If we hurry, we can take a ride before breakfast.”

“But David said we’re not to leave the castle while he’s away,” Beatrix said. “He’ll be angry.”

“Let me worry about that,” Alison said. “Now, no more arguing.”

If David found out, he would, indeed, be furious. And he would be even angrier if he remembered that the prior of the abbey was a Blackadder.

Well, she was none too pleased with him either. He refused to tell her where he was going or why. If he could keep his goings and comings secret, then so could she.

***

David’s heart sank as he surveyed the ruins of the village. The blackened stone walls of the cottages and the singed remains of their thatched roofs were stark against the pink dawn sky.

A few villagers were poking through the ruins looking for anything they could salvage. Most of them had fled to Hume Castle, where he and his men had stopped for the night to deliver food. Though Hume Castle had been badly damaged in the fighting between his uncle and Albany’s forces, it offered better protection from rain and marauders than these roofless cottages.

David had stayed up most the night listening to the villagers’ tales of horror. By all accounts, the band of men who rode into the village in broad daylight brandishing swords and torches were Blackadders.

David glanced at Robbie and wished he had spared his brother this.

“Why did they commit this outrage against villagers?” Robbie said. “They’re just farmers and shepherds, not warriors.”

That was precisely the question running through David’s mind. Guilt and rage vied with sorrow in his heart. He was certain this attack was aimed at him. Yet there had been no ambush along the road.

What did his enemy hope to gain by this atrocity?

He steeled himself for more bad news as Brian emerged from a burned-out cottage. The lass Brian hoped to wed and her grandfather had not been among the villagers who fled to Hume Castle, and they had hoped to find them here. But Brian’s expression as he strode toward David was blacker than the soot that covered his hands.

“I can’t find Leana anywhere,” Brian said.

“We’ll keep looking,” David said, though he was losing hope that they would find her alive.

Unable to find any other words, he rested a hand on Brian’s shoulder and stared off at the horizon.

“Wait, isn’t that her grandfather there?” He pointed to an old man walking through a field next to the village with his head down.

Brian set off at a run across the field. When Robbie started to follow, David caught his arm.

“I’ll go with Brian,” he said. “See what help ye can offer the others.”

Seeing the burned village was grim enough. He did not want his brother to hear this tale.

“The men who did this made no secret of who they were,” the grandfather was saying as David joined him and Brian. “It was the Blackadders, and they wanted us to know it.

“We’ll make them pay for this, I promise ye,” David said.

“That won’t bring my granddaughter back.”

David looked at Brian’s face, which was drained of color, and feared the worst.

“I’ve looked in all the cottages and the fields,” the old man said. “I can’t find her.”

David organized his men into lines to make a methodical search of the fields and nearby wood. He hoped he could at least give the old man and Brian her body to bury.

He kept Brian at his side as he joined the search for the missing lass. At the sound of ducks, he turned to see them taking flight from a low marshy area some distance away and caught sight of a bit of bright color amidst the cattails and reeds.

Leana had vibrant red hair.

David took off running, with Brian hard on his heels. When he reached the marsh, David found the lass face down, her body cast aside in the reeds and mud like a discarded bone that had been picked clean.

Gently, David turned her over and cradled her in his arms. Brian wept openly as he pulled her torn skirts down over her blood-smeared thighs and wiped the mud from her face. David had no words to comfort him. Vengeance was all he could offer.

But wait. Did he see her draw a shallow breath? He felt for her pulse.

“She lives,” he said, looking up at Brian. “She lives!”

Moving quickly now, they wrapped her in Brian’s plaid. While Brian held her on his lap, David retrieved the flask from his belt and lifted it to her lips. He sent up a prayer of thanks when she moaned and took a sip.

Though the lass was weak and badly hurt, she would survive.

“Ye will see her through this,” David said, squeezing Brian’s shoulder. “I know it.”

His heart bled for his friend. He could not imagine what he would do if anything like this happened to Alison.

Thank God she and the girls were safe behind the strong walls of Blackadder Castle.

***

Alison herded her daughters down the stairs. They were nearly to the bottom when Beatrix tugged at her hand.

“I have my wooden horse,” she said, holding up the carving David had made for her, “but Margaret forgot her pig. I’ll run back and fetch it for her.”

“Nay—”

“My piggy!” Margaret wailed, her eyes going wide with panic. “I can’t go without my piggy!”

The girls had carried the carvings with them everywhere since David made them. Recognizing that she would lose this battle, Alison dropped to one knee and put her arm around Margaret.

“All right, your sister will get your pig,” she said, then turned to Beatrix. “We’ll wait here, but hurry.”

Alison wanted to be gone and back as quickly as possible. Anxiety thrummed through her as she waited for Beatrix, who was dallying. When she finally returned with the carving, her hands were covered with soot.

“I couldn’t help it,” Beatrix said. “Her pig was behind one of the chairs by the hearth.”

The men in the hall were beginning to stir. Alison kept her head down as they passed through, hoping no one would ask where they were going so early. She hated to lie, and she was poor at it as well. When they stepped outside into the cold air, she drew in a deep breath.

The stable lad looked surprised when she asked him to saddle her horse and the girls’ ponies, but he did as she bade him. The guards would be more difficult.

But luck was on her side. The two warriors who stood by the gate were young. One had carrot-red hair and freckles, and the other was making a courageous attempt to grow a beard.

“Good morn to ye, Lady Alison,” the red-haired guard said, dipping his head. “May I ask where you’re going?”

“I’m taking my daughters for a short ride before breakfast,” Alison said, giving them a bright smile. “After all the damp weather we’ve had, it would be a shame to waste such a lovely morning.”

The guards exchanged uneasy glances.

“I don’t like it,” she heard the red-haired guard whisper.

“But what can we do?” the one with the weedy beard whispered back.

“Open the gate, please,” Alison called out.

“I’m not certain Laird Wedderburn would approve,” the red-haired guard said. “Let me take your horses back to the stable for ye, and you lasses can enjoy the morning with a stroll around the courtyard.”

“I don’t want to disappoint my daughters,” she said, waving her hand toward the girls on their ponies. When that did not appear to sway them, she put her hand on her hip. “Did the laird tell ye to bar the gate against me?”

“Nay,” the redhead admitted, “but that doesn’t mean he’d want us to let ye ride off.”

“I am the lady of the castle and your laird’s wife,” Alison said. “He’s spoken to ye about treating me with respect, now hasn’t he?”

“Aye,” the two answered in unison.

This confirmation that David had ordered his men to respect her made her feel all the worse for her deceit.

“We’ll just ride in circles around the castle,” she said, softening her tone.

“I’ll come with ye,” the redhead said.

“No need,” Alison said, knowing full well they would be tired after standing duty all night. “Ye can watch us from the tower if ye like, but we’ll be close enough to shout for help if we need it.”

With obvious reluctance, the young guards opened the gate wide enough for them to ride their horses through. Alison led the girls around the castle twice, waving at the two guards each time they passed the gate.

“We’re changing guards soon,” the guard with the weedy beard called to her on their third time around.

“One more time round, and we’ll come in,” she called back.

When she and her daughters reached the back side of the castle, it took only a few moments to gallop across the open field and slip away under the cover of the trees along the river. Alison felt guilty about fooling the young guards. Hopefully, this meeting with her uncle would not take long, and she and the girls would return before their absence caused any worry.

CHAPTER 31

Alison held her daughters’ hands as she waited to be admitted to the prior’s quarters, which had a separate entrance and was the only part of the abbey where females were permitted. She was anxious to be done with this and return to the castle.

The same monk who had brought her the message answered her knock and waved them into a small vestibule with a wooden bench on either side.

“Our prior has little fondness and less patience for children.” The monk looked at Beatrix and Margaret with a pinched expression that suggested he shared the prior’s view. “I’ll mind your daughters while ye go inside.”

Alison didn’t like leaving the girls, but her uncle and the prior would not want to discuss important matters in front of them.

“I won’t be long,” she told them, then turned to the monk. “We left before breakfast. I’m sure they’ll behave like little angels if ye bring them something to eat.”

“I’ll see that your
angels
are fed, Lady Alison.”

Beatrix stuck her tongue out behind the monk’s back, and Alison gave her a warning look.

“They’re waiting.” The monk put his finger to his lips before opening the door to the next room, then signaled for her to go in.

The two high-ranking churchmen ignored her entrance and continued speaking in low voices with their heads together. While she waited for them to acknowledge her, Alison examined them and the room. The two men sat in ornately carved chairs with matching silver cups at their elbows. The prior wore the plain robes of his order, which contrasted sharply with the richly furnished room. Her uncle, who had no need for an outward show of humility, wore a heavily jeweled cross and a fur-lined cloak over his purple cassock.

She had met the prior, who was her former husband’s uncle, many times, and she did not like him the better for it. She doubted that he was drawn to the Church by his devotion to God any more than her uncle was. For men from great families, the Church was another road to power.

Finally, her uncle turned toward her and held out his hand.

“Greetings, Your Grace.” She made a deep curtsy and kissed his ring, then turned to the prior and curtsied again.

“How do you fare, my dear?” her uncle asked.

“I’m well, thank you.”

“You poor child,” he said, shaking his head. “’Tis abhorrent to think of a niece of mine being forced to give herself to that foul Beast of Wedderburn.”

“Quite distressing,” the prior agreed. “Has the vile man mistreated you
very
badly?”

The prior fixed his beady eyes on her and leaned forward, evidently hoping for a gruesome tale.

“My daughters and I have been well treated,” Alison said.

“No need to put a brave face on it,” her uncle said. “This has been dreadful for all of us.”

“If my being captured was disturbing,” she said, “why did no one come to help me when we were besieged?”

“Other matters took precedence at the time.” Her uncle stared down his long, pointed nose at her. The bishop was not accustomed to being challenged, particularly by a female. “However, this unfortunate situation can yet be remedied.”

Remedied?
What could he mean?

“I suppose it is too much to hope,” the prior said, his eyes on her breasts, “that Wedderburn has not bedded you yet?”

She dropped her gaze to the floor as thoughts of what she and David had done in bed went through her head. This was not a subject she wished to discuss with a bishop and a prior.

“A minor issue,” her uncle said, waving his hand dismissively. “We can praise God that she was not a virgin.”

Alison’s cheeks grew hotter still.

“There will be no bloody sheets to contend with,” her uncle continued. “No proof.”

Understanding dawned on Alison as she looked from one churchman’s stern, unyielding face to the other.

“But there were many witnesses to the bedding ceremony,” she said, knowing now why David had insisted upon it.

“Unless Wedderburn had the witnesses remain in your bedchamber to watch him accomplish the deed,” the prior said, raking his gaze over her again, “’tis your word against his as to whether he succeeded in the task.”

“And I can say with some certainty that the Church will choose to believe you, my dear,” her uncle added with a smug smile.

“But Wedderburn did succeed.” Repeatedly.

“Regardless, you shall swear that the marriage was never consummated,” her uncle said in a tone that conveyed he thought her slow-witted, “so that it can be annulled.”

“I don’t want an annulment,” Alison told them.