Page 2 of The Highlander's Inconvenient Wife
“That’s wonderful; well done,” Joan praised him before looking around. “But where are we now? We should have been at the castle already by my reckoning,” she asked him, eyeing the thick woods suspiciously. Either side of the road was covered in thick pines that made it hard to see what lay beyond. She was beginning to think that there was a reason the men had fallen back.
“Don’t worry, Miss; I have made many a trip into the Highlands. I can find my way through the country without a map,” he said proudly as the horses trotted on. “We will be there soon; it was only a minor detour.”
Joan had her doubts and was about to protest when the woods suddenly cleared, opening the road that led to a castle. The high buttresses loomed in the distance through the mist that hung in the air like a blanket thrown over a bed.
“See,” the man called proudly as he raised himself up in his seat. “I knew exactly where we were all along. You’d be hard-pressed to find me lost in the Highlands of Scotland.”
Finally.
She ignored the man’s boasting and sat back in the carriage as relief flooded her body. The journey had been a long and arduous one, but Avery would welcome her with open arms and take her in — hopefully allowing her to have a very hot bath. She looked down at her dress that clung to her body; she’d catch a cold if she didn’t change out of her sodden clothes soon.
It wasn’t long before the carriage came to a halt. Not wanting to waste any more time, she unbolted the door and stepped out, her shoes squelching in the mud from the storm that had passed. She nearly lost her footing but quickly steadied her body on the door before looking around.
The walls of the castle seemed different from how she remembered them; they were higher and far more ominous, but then again, it had been years since last she visited her friend. Many of the Highland castles looked the same to her in any case. They all had a hint of mystery about them that led one to expect something magical.
Chalking it up to the mist along with the ordeal she had just experienced, she lifted the hem of her skirts and picked her way through mud, walking toward the iron gates that were visible in the distance.
The fog swirled around her, creating cloud-like patterns as she went. A chill was beginning to move through her bones as she gripped the edge of her cloak and tightened the wet fabric around her shoulders. The sound of an animal in the distance made her jump as she hurried along.
It wasn’t until she was right on top of the gates that she realized a guard was staring at her with an intent look in his eyes. He was wearing a bright red kilt with black squares and a sword at his side. The thought crossed her mind that she had perhaps come at a very inopportune time. There were often wars between the clans that required extra security.
“Excuse me,” she said politely. “I am here to see…” Her words were cut short when a man suddenly seized her from behind, gripping her upper arms with a vice-like grip.
“What do you think you are doing?” she yelled at him in panic and fought with all of her might. It wasn’t the warm welcome she’d been expecting all along.
“Stop yer fightin’!” the guard she had been approaching yelled. “Take her to the dungeons at once,” he barked at his friend.
“Wait!” she tried to plead with him. “I am a guest of the castle!”
“An’ I’m the laird!” he laughed maliciously at her as she was dragged backward through the gate, her feet kicking in the air as she yelled. It was quickly becoming evident to her that no one was going to explain what the dickens was going on.
“I’m telling you to let me go!” she yelled at the man dragging her. “I know the laird and his wife!”
“I’m sure ye do,” the burly red-headed man said in a sarcastic tone. “We’d all like a private audience with the laird, but I’m afraid ye will have to try better next time,” he laughed in a tone that matched his friend’s. “That’s if ye make it out alive.”
2
“Let go of me, you barbarians!” Joan screamed as she kicked and fought, trying her best to free herself from the men who had escorted her into the castle by force. She’d tried her best to call for Avery and Darragh, yet no one had come to her aid. She didn’t even know what had happened to the coachman, whether he had escaped or been taken captive as well.
The guards were dragging her through a section of the castle she’d never seen before, but then again, there would have been little to no reason for her to visit the dungeons in the past, she realized as they pulled her over the damp and filthy floor.
“The laird will hear of this!” she threatened as one of the guards gripped her braid when she tried to escape. A searing pain shot through her scalp as he yanked her back onto her feet.
“Aye, that he will,” the burly red-headed man who had taken her into captivity replied. His face was rugged and in desperate need of a shave as his double chin wobbled beneath his jaw.
It wasn’t long before they stopped in front of a cell that seemed to be separate from the rest, hidden in a small alcove at the end of the long stone corridor.
Joan was suddenly thrown into the dungeon as a second guard shut the door with a deafening clank of iron. Using her hands, she broke her fall on the pile of hay in the corner. “Wait!” she yelled when she realized that the guards had begun to retreat. “This is no way to treat a lady! I don’t belong in here!”
The large man suddenly stopped in his tracks as the rest of the men took their leave. Turning around, he looked at her with a wolfish grin that made her stomach churn; she far preferred it when he didn’t smile at all.
Joan noticed for the first time that the guard was an overly chubby man with a round belly that wobbled when he moved. He seemed much less threatening than the rest of the guards. His eyes were a piercing blue, and his thick mop of curly, red hair was very unkempt. “Let me guess, ye’re a lady that was on her way to visit a friend in Scotland?” he said in a sarcastic tone that baffled her. Why he would find her story amusing or worthy of ridicule was beyond her.
“That… that is exactly what happened,” she said in confusion as she picked herself up and dusted off the hem of her skirt. The dungeon they had thrown her in was less than accommodating for a woman of her class. A thick layer of grime and dust seemed to coat everything in there, including the floor and pile of hay she assumed would be used as a bed.
“Aye,” The man nodded in agreement as he drew nearer. “An’ this is all just a big misunderstanding. The laird ye were looking for has a castle that looks a lot like this one?”
“Yes,” she breathed hopefully as she gripped the bars. “I’m so glad you understand what I mean. Now if you will just go and tell the laird that I am here, we can all clear up this little misunderstanding and get on with our lives.” She stopped when she suddenly realized that the man was alluding to the castle belonging to someone other than Darragh. “Whose castle is this then?”
