Page 44 of Claimed By the Heartless Highlander
The faint uncertainty she’d been feeling turned into a distinct feeling of unease. She knew the lands around MacDean Castle, and they weren’t within a full two candlemarks’ ride. The forest they were entering was unfamiliar, and the road was rough, far rougher than Keith had allowed his roads to be since he’d married Maisie.
Furthermore, Maisie’s letter had said someone would meet her at or near the border. She and Keith were very precise about such things. There was no way they’d have suggested such a meeting and then failed to actually meet her at the location they’d specified.
Something was wrong. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves and tried not to let her trepidation color her voice. “Och, well, ye might be right, but I need to take a walk and relieve meself. Mayhap we could stop for a moment.”
“I thought ye were anxious to arrive. Ye dinnae want to keep Laird MacDean’s folk waitin’.”
“I ken, I ken. But I have a powerful urge, and it willnae take more than a moment. And surely ye’d like to take some time to stretch yer legs and drink some water, aye?”
For a moment, she thought he wouldn’t listen. Then the driver pulled the carriage to a stop.
“Thank ye.”
She hopped down and started for the woods, intent on disappearing into the trees before running back the way they’d come, or east, in an effort to find the path Jack had told her they’d be using. At the very least, she wanted to be well away from the driver, and whatever mischief he had planned.
If he was an innocent Muir clansman who’d simply made a mistake, she’d apologize later. For now, however, she had other things to worry about.
She hadn’t made it half a dozen steps before rough hands grabbed her from behind and dragged her back, to throw her into the back of the carriage.
“What are ye…”
“Hush yer mouth, lass.” The words were as harsh as the bruising grip that pinned her wrist and trapped her arm away from the knife concealed in her skirts. “Did ye really think I wouldnae guess ye were plottin’ to get away?”
The man—a complete stranger, and no longer wearing the Muir tartan—scowled. “Another candlemark or less, and I’d have delivered ye to me Laird. But ye had to catch on to the alteration in the path.”
“Where are ye takin’ me?”
Ailis tried not to let her fear show. Instead, she focused on assessing the man, trying to memorize his appearance for later. He’d spoken of his Laird, so he wasn’t a clanless outcast, that much she was certain of. He obviously wasn’t from Clan MacDean or Clan Muir.
With a sinking heart, she realized she might have found an answer to at least one of her questions about Duncan—what he was so afraid of that he’d been furious at the thought of Lily even briefly leaving the castle walls.
A dirk appeared in the man’s free hand. “Ye have two choices, lass. Promise to behave yerself, come quietly, and I’ll do nay more than tie ye up and drive the rest of the way to where me Laird is waitin’. Or ye can try to fight or be clever again, and…” An ugly sneer twisted one corner of his mouth. “In that case, me Laird will understand if I come back without ye. He’d like to have ye as a bargainin’ chip, but if ye’re too much trouble, ye’re nae necessary.”
“Och, of course I’m nae daft enough to try and fight ye.” Ailis considered a defiant expression, then settled for a wary, slightly sullen one with a hint of fear. “I’m nae a fool to struggle against an armed man who’s already got the better of me.”
“Good lass. It would have been a shame to spill the blood of such a pretty woman such as yerself.”
Without letting go of her wrists, the man reached across to his seat and grabbed a length of rope, which he wrapped firmly around Ailis’s wrists in a manner she knew she wouldn’t be able to easily escape.
Once she was securely bound, and bound to the edge of the carriage for good measure, the driver retook his seat. “Time to go, lass. It’s gettin’ on.”
Ailis settled against the seat and tried to think through the fear that filled her and made her stomach churn. Unfortunately, there was so much she didn’t know that she was at a loss to guess how she should react.
She didn’t know who this man was, only that he was following orders and was most likely a warrior from an enemy clan. It might be some enemy of Keith’s, but then why target her? And why now, when she’d been visiting his castle at least once a season, accompanied by few guards?
No, it was more likely to be some foe of Duncan’s.
How had they known to take over her carriage? Most likely, they’d intercepted the letters between her and Maisie. Such interceptions were fairly possible, she knew that well. All it would have taken was reading one or two, and they’d have known when she’d be traveling, and how.
But how had they entered Duncan’s castle? He was so guarded. Surely, it must be almost impossible. Except…
Except that he’d increased the number of guards around the castle recently, including calling in reserves from the nearby villages. Jack had told her that much when she’d happened to remark on the increased number of guards.
He might not know all the faces and names of the recent arrivals. If a man was wearing Muir tartan, Jack might have overlooked it, and Duncan might never have noticed unless he was doing a close inspection of the troops.
And, of course, her presence had likely been a distraction, especially with her determination to give Duncan the cold shoulder for the past several days.
Ailis pushed the thought out of her mind. If there was one thing she’d learned from countless stories, it was that recriminations and self-doubt could wait until later, preferably sometime after the current situation had been resolved.
