Enraptured by the Highlander

She spotted the shadowed figure of Martha leaving the keep and she breathed in relief. Turning away from the window, she went back to a chair, it was one of two that were near the fire, and sat. It made no sense whatsoever, but she felt like she was being unfaithful to Caelan. How could it be? How deeply had he sunk into her soul that she felt so guilty telling the man a little lie?

Staring into the flickering red and orange flames and feeling the heat of the fire reminded her of the strange sensation that had caged her stomach in when she had kissed—or was it she had been kissed by, rather—Caelan. It was heat. Sparks had shot from the point of contact throughout her entire body. His lips on hers felt intoxicating, and she wanted to feel it again.

Her room doors opened. Martha had tiny clumps of snow on her shoulders and head. “Come, sit here and warm up,” Adelaine said while gesturing to the adjacent chair. “Thank you for going to him. How was he?”

Tugging her gloves off and warming her hands by the fire, Martha said, “Concerned, My Lady. I had not gotten two steps into the dungeon when he asked if you were well.”

That statement warmed Adelaine as much as the fire did. “Did he now?”

“Yes,” Martha said. “Seems to me he has a deep connection with you.”

“I’m sure it must just be that I’m sympathetic toward him when many others are not,” Adelaine said, knowing her words were true but not the whole truth. Again, the kiss flared to her mind. “He doesn’t have much here.”

Martha clapped her hands twice and stood, “I think I will be retiring to my quarters now. Would you like me to send for anything for you?”

Looking up at her friend, Adelaine smiled, “No, you’ve done enough, thank you and good night.”

Martha curtsied. “Goodnight to you, My Lady.”

When she left, she faced the fire again. Did Caelan mirror these feelings she had for him? Over and over again, she wondered what it would be like if she did dare and run away with him to his home? How would his people take it if he brought home the daughter of the man who nearly had him executed for a crime he had not committed?

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If on the rare chance they did take her in, what would she be to them? An aberration. Caelan’s woman? His lover— even if they had not made love? His whore— if they became intimate but nothing more came of it? What?

What did she want from him? Dare she say his love? “It’s a foolish girl’s dream,” she whispered. “He cannot dare love the daughter of his captor.”

Eventually, she went off to bed with those uncertainties still deep in her mind, and they did not clear the next day. She woke up in the pink of dawn and was still as muddled about Caelan as she had felt going to bed. Sitting up, she spotted the fire that had burned down to glowing embers and slid out of the sheets to rouse it. After adding more kindle and grasping the poker, she jabbed and jabbed until the fire was merrily roaring away again.

She washed her face and rinsed out her mouth, donned a thick dress and her fur-lined mantle. She headed off to her father’s office and began to search again. She went through the rest of the first trunk and half the second before she wondered if she was wasting time and searching in the wrong places.

For a document as important as that one, why would it be in a trunk of old, outdated records? She went to the bookshelves and sorted through the piles there. Old French books on laws and regulations, a collection of letters from the capital, records of past war campaigns, and then came upon an old parchment codex cover.

This has to be it.

She had barely tugged the codex out. The flap was over and it was closed tightly by the wrapping band. She was out to unwrap it when the door was opened and in fright, she shoved the codex back. The voice of—curses—Mr. John Whittingham, her father’s steward, sounded. “Lady Adelaine? What are you doing here?”

Forcing her trembling hands to be still, she stood and faced the older man, hoping beyond hope that her face would not betray her. “Erm… Mister Whittingham…sorry, I was just searching for a…. book I thought Father said he had in here. What are you doing here?”

The steward blinked behind his spectacles. “I’m here to get the tenant tax papers.”

“I’m sorry, I’ll get out of your way,” Adelaine said.

Before he could reply, she was brushing past him and was in the corridor making her way to her room. It was only when she rushed inside and closed the door behind her, she took a moment to breathe. Her chest was burning from the lack of air and the head was pounding with the fright and excitement.

When she calmed down, her fist struck her bed.

So close…So close. Why didn’t I bring the damned thing with me instead of putting it back?

She slumped dejectedly on the edge of the bed and looked the keep through her window, with regret.

I’m sorry, Caelan. I promise not to fail you again.

Men were in her father’s office day in and day out for the next three days. She could not get even near the door much less go inside without someone seeing her. She felt frustrated and angry at herself for losing that one chance she had. Only God knew when she’d be able to get that codex.

On the fourth night, she felt so upset that when she went to see Caelan, she was so frantic that she managed to open the door herself. It took a lot of pushing, frustrated tears, muffled cries, and bruised palms but she got in and fell straight into his arms.

“I’m sorry,” she said, with her face pressed on his collar bone. “I’m so sorry. I had it in my hands. I know I had the plans about the tunnel in my hands, but I put it back and now, now I can’t even get near it for sake of other’s suspicion. I’m so sorry. If I had not been such a fool, you’d probably be free now. Forgive me.”