Enraptured by the Highlander

The man she was running away to find was back in England and back in her father’s claws. She huddled into her seat when she felt the carriage turn around and return to the manor.

The moment she got to the end of the drive to the house, she jumped out and ran for the door but her father called to the footmen at the door, “Hold her!”

Their hands grabbed her and though she struggled she was still held fast. Her father barked out an order, telling the men to put the Scot back in the dungeon but have two guards with him. As for the men holding her, he ordered them to take her to his office and guard the door.

Her jaw tightened as they led her to the office. She jerked her hand away from one of the footmen, walked into the office and slammed the door behind her. She knew exactly what her father was going to say when he came in and she was prepared to say her piece. It was about time she stopped cowering to his oppression.

“If I perish, I perish…” she mumbled while going to the windows to look over the drab ground. The snow had melted on the ground, rendering the land a depressing swathe of mottled grey slush.

She did not turn when she heard the door open and her father’s grunt. “Were you really heading off to Islington?”

“No,” she said turning. “I was not. And I will not be marrying him. I was running to Scotland.”

Her father’s eyes widened before narrowing lethally. “Why? Does this have to so with your frequent trips to the dungeon? Has the blasted Scot turned your mind from your people and your country?”

No, you have! “No, I ran because I wanted to be with the man I love,” Adelaine replied with her shoulders back, her hands clenched to her sides and her chin lifted up proudly. “Rather like Peter, I reckon?”

“What. Do. You. Know. About. Peter?” Her father stressed each word through clenched teeth.

Adeline upended the sack unto the table and the letters spilled out. “I know everything Father, all your secrets are laid bare. I know you lied to me about Peter’s death, I saw the real autopsy report you hid in your secret drawer which means that signed testimony is nothing but a lie” She then gestured to the letters. “I’ve read how you hired a man to kill Peter just because he married a Scotswoman and how you’ve cast your sin upon an innocent man who did his best to save Peter’s life and were going to kill him to hide your crime. You are a monster!”

Her father’s hand lashed out and slapped her across her cheek in a stinging slap. She gasped in a deep breath but her smarting flesh only made her words kick up more speed. “What is wrong with you, Father? Why have you become so despicable? How could you have done that to your own son?”

The earl’s eyes went flinty, “Do you know how McLagen got free?”

His tone was not questioning. “Why are you asking me when I think you already know?”

Her father’s eyes narrowed, but she had nothing more to lose so she spoke the truth, “I was the one who set him free. I found the plan for the tunnel under the keep, gave him the map and opened the lock because he did not deserve to pay your price! Just like Peter did not deserve your cruelty.”

“He deserved much more because he was a traitor to his family and his kingdom.” The Earl sank to his chair and spat harshly, “I once loved Peter, he knew I did my best to steer him right and get him to marry a good family—an English family—so he could take my seat when I passed on, and he knew my view on those northern dogs, but he pushed and prodded by marring that wench and so forced my hand. Just like you are forcing mine.” His words sounded deep regretful, but his tone was still hard. “I had to do it to save my lineage but now…” she stayed still as his voice trailed off. His eyed then snapped to her. “…now I have to put you in the same boat. If you have cast your lot in with these savages, you will pay the same price.”

“What?” Adelaine asked.

“Guards!” he called out and the men rushed in. His eyes landed heavily on her. “Take her to the dungeon in the other side of the castle!”

“No!” Adelaine cried desperately. She clenched her fist and tilted her head up defiantly, “If you’re going to imprison me before my death, at least let me be with him. Are you that cruel to deny one simple request?”

Her father stared at her then his lips twisted into a sneer. “If you are hell-bent of defiling yourself with him, go ahead. Guards, take this woman to the keep and put her in the same cell as the Scotsman. Let’s give the ill-fated lovers a night to themselves then take her to the other half of the castle where she might have time to repent for her sins before they reckon with God.”

“Father!” she called as they grabbed her.

His eyes were pitiless, “You are no child of mine, take her!”

Chapter 32

Dark-green eyes were tracing over the stone walls that not too long ago Caelan had left behind, hoping to never see again. They were just as drab, dark and cold as he had remembered but now, they felt much more dangerous. The clang of the gate made his soul ring with the emptiness.

The one thing that had given a single spark to the last three days of pain and pressure were the fleeting seconds of seeing Adelaine again and meeting her eyes. She had looked shocked—as well as she should be—to see him again after he had made it so far. Her fear had been plain on her face—her paling face—but just as he had hoped she would run to him; she had run away.

In retrospect, he did understand why she had run; the Earl was right there. There was no way she could show her affection for him under his scrutiny. So, he had borne the pain and held his weariness in as they forced him to walk back to the Earl’s compound and then back to the thrice-damned dungeon.

He did not have the strength to pace so he huddled into the corner and gazed up at the tiny window. There was no question about it, he was going to die. Not for the foolish charge of killing the Earl’s son, but rather of escaping prison while being a prisoner-of-war and becoming a wanted fugitive.

Closing his eyes to rest, he hear

d the door scrape up from above and then heard the steps hurrying down to the bottom floor. It was probably Leicester, the guard coming to secure him or that pissmire Tybalt.

“Get your hands off me!”