Page 7 of The Highlander's Inconvenient Wife
Stopping to take a breath, he leaned his head against the cold stones of his dungeon walls as images of his past flashed across his mind. His mother’s scream pierced his head as a sharp pain shot over his eye. The memories of betrayal never seemed to leave him be, no matter how hard he tried to outrun them.
Straightening, he rolled his neck on his shoulders until the pain began to subside. There was no time to think of the past or the beguiling witch he held captive.
Peace had reigned on his land for many years. He’d worked far too hard to achieve the fear he’d struck into the hearts of the neighboring lairds; he wasn’t about to let an English spy ruin his hard work — no matter how delectable she may be.
5
Joan lay on her back in the tiny room on her pile of hay, staring at the ceiling with her arms splayed out on either side of her body as if she had been making an angel in the snow.
She couldn’t believe she had run all the way from London in the hopes of escaping a cruel fate only to end up captive in the castle of a dangerous, albeit handsome laird.
A handsome laird that I wanted to kiss… NO!she scolded herself as the memory from earlier came flooding back. Their faces had been so close. Had he wanted to kiss her as much as she had wanted to kiss him? The passion in his eye had made her believe he did.
You can’t think like this, Joan,she reminded herself when she recalled the words of the red-headed guard. The laird was a dangerous man who wouldn’t hesitate to take her life if she gave him half the chance. She wondered if he really would behead her if she said something he didn’t like. She’d never met anyone in her life as threatening as he was, yet there was something else in his eyes, a hungry look that tugged at her heart. It was almost as if there were another side to him that he never showed, besides his vicious exterior.
Joan quickly jumped to her feet when she heard steps coming from down the hall. Fixing her dress and attempting to pull the loose pieces of straw from her braid, she stood at the back of the cell with her hands behind her back. A delectable fragrance filled her nostrils as the smell of cooked meat wafted through the air, making her stomach growl with a hungry pang.
The first person to appear was someone that Joan had not been expecting at all. A lady who looked to be in her late forties or early fifties came up to the bars with a worried look on her face. Her small hands were clasped in front of her black dress. “My poor child,” she said in a sweet voice, “you must be so scared.” She clucked her tongue in disapproval as she looked at the sparse dungeon. “Not to mention hungry and tired.” She quickly rounded on the laird as he joined her at her side.
Joan noticed with great disappointment that the appetizing fragrance was still a distance away.
Perhaps this is a form of torture he wishes to implement,she thought bitterly as her stomach growled.
“How could you keep a young lady captive in a place like this?” The lady thrust her slender finger in his face as she scolded him. “This is no way to treat a woman, Jasper!”
Joan stifled a giggle and looked away as she tried her best not to laugh. The pained expression on the man’s face was more than enough payment for Joan after the treatment she had received.
Turning back to Joan with her kind green eyes, the woman gave her another smile. “I apologize for the treatment ye have had to endure while here at the castle. I hope ye willnae hold it against us.” Her black hair, which was peppered with grey, was pulled in a tight bun behind her head, giving her face an open look of warmth.
The laird seemed like a giant beside the small-statured woman as he shifted uncomfortably on his feet after her scolding. He somehow seemed far less threatening with her at his side.
“Open the door and let the poor woman have a meal,” she commanded the laird.
Nodding once, he retrieved a key from his belt and unlocked the door while keeping an eye on Joan. The look in his eyes conveyed the fact that he still thought she was up to no good. “Stand back an’ allow the guard to bring in the food, Maither; there is nae telling what she might do.”
The woman gave him a strange look of confusion. “An’ what exactly dae ye think she will dae to me? Braid me hair? She’s a wee lass, for Heaven’s sake, Jasper. Ye could probably lift her up with one hand.”
A small giggle escaped Joan’s lips as the laird glared at her. The woman seemed very entertaining as she made fun of the man with ease.
He can’t be that bad if this woman isn’t scared of him.
“Dinnae be silly,” she said to him and stepped into the cell just as the same red-headed guard from before carrying a tray of delicious food followed suit. “Here ye are, lass; ye must be starving,” the woman said as she took the tray and waited for the red-headed guard to place a table and chair in the room for her to use.
Joan hurriedly sat on the chair and tucked into a bowl of venison stew with vegetables that was accompanied by a plate of freshly baked bannocks. She gulped a mouthful of ale before tucking right back into her food.
The salty and rich taste of the meat went well with the bannocks that she continued to wash down with the flat Scottish biscuits. It may very well have been the hunger talking, but Joan swore blind that she’d never tasted anything as good as that stew in her life.
“I’m sorry ye were left alone in here for so long,” the woman apologized. “My name is Martha Ainsley, an’ this is me son,” she gestured to the laird, “Jasper Ainsley or Laird MacShaw to those who didnae push his mule-sized head into the world.”
Joan warmed up to the older woman; she liked the kind lines around her eyes and the lilt in her voice when she spoke. She especially liked the way his mother put the laird in his place. There was at least one person in his life that could boss him around. Looking from one to the other, she realized that she could see the family resemblance. Jasper had the same color as his mother’s eyes and hair as well as the long aristocratic nose.
“My name is Joan Moore,” she said after wiping a dribble of stew from her chin. She had been so hungry that she’d forgotten all about etiquette and decorum, devouring her food like a hungry dog that hadn’t been fed in a week.
“Well, Miss Moore, I hear ye have quite the tale to tell,” Martha encouraged her to speak and explain how she had come to the castle.
“Oh, dear,” she said when Joan was finally done explaining about the incident with the coachman and how she had come to be taken captive. “Well, that’s quite an ordeal ye have been through, child. I can only apologize again an’ say that I will try me best to rectify the situation. I’ll have the maids draw a hot bath at once, an’ ye can move upstairs to the guest room,” she offered kindly with her hands clasped in front of her once again.
“Maither,” Jasper stepped in and used an authoritative voice that seemed to have little to no effect on his mother whatsoever. “She isnae a guest in this castle; she is a prisoner. I cannae have her traipsing about the castle an’ gathering information for whichever laird has sent her here.” His voice became almost angry as he spoke.
