Enraptured by the Highlander

Sipping the sweet wine, she admitted. “There are not many really. I despise the popular ruff and puffed sleeve, I like to ride and have never taken to using the fan as others do.”

“How long have you been out in society?”

“Since I finished my education at eight-and-ten,” Adelaine said. “My father believed in literacy in many languages so I can read, write, and speak French and Latin. I’ve read books on philosophy, the sciences, and religion. Yes, yes…I know, I’ve heard it all before, it’s not done for a woman to be so challenging and that we’re better off sticking to childbearing and homemaking.”

“No, no. Not at all. I personally think it’s a crime to limit women in learning,” Islington said. “Most of us get our first start in education from our mothers so why limit them?”

Taken aback by his progressive words, Adelaine asked, “You don’t agree with the rest of society?”

Islington placed his glass down and came closer, so close she could see the hues in his eyes. “No, I don’t. I think an educated woman is very…appealing.” He took her hand and dropped his voice. “I’m glad we’re alone now because I want to kiss you.”

Alarmed, Adelaine softly pushed him off. “I’m sorry, I do not kiss gentlemen that I don’t know.”

“Does that mean you have kissed gentlemen before?” Islington asked.

The nerve of him! Adeline spun to walk away but he caught her hand. She was about to yank her hand away and leave him with the glove when the look in his eyes stopped her.

For once, she saw true contrition and his tone was deeply apologetic. “I apologize. I was uncouth and barbaric and no true lady should endure that. I must admit that I have never met a woman like you before.”

“A woman like me?” she asked, sticking her chin up. “By that, you mean one with principles.”

“I mean beautiful, gracious and yes, with principles,” Islington said. “Would you allow me to court you, Miss Adelaine?”

Chapter 20

Even from the dungeon, Caelan could hear the music coming from the house. His eyes clenched tightly in pain and resignation. In his mind’s eye, he could see Adelaine being twirled around a dance floor in the arms of a man who did not deserve her.

She would give him smiles that he wanted for himself, a tender touch that he craved to feel on his skin and her eyes…God, her eyes. Would she look at any other man the way he wanted—no needed—her to look at him? With a gaze of tenderness, care, compassion and, when stirred, lust?

The mere thought had his heart feeling hollow. This was the time for him to be escaping this rotten prison and heading home with Adelaine in tow. But no, he was still stuck in the cold square chamber with his hope leeching away from him.

Every ten minutes or so he was up and walking as the cold air bit into him. Occasionally, he heard steps walking past the keep and wondered if it was guards or guests seeking some private time. Caelan snorted and rolled his eyes.

The English boasted that they were superior and the so-called ‘sins’ of the flesh did not apply to them. But the scandals of the Sassenach’s had trumped anything that came from Scotland twice over. Their bloody King was the masterpiece of making scandals. If any other monarch wanted to be half as immoral as him, they only had to take notes.

There would be a scandal if Adelaine did run away with him but so what? If she got to his home and they knew she had helped him run, his Clan would take her in, despite her being the daughter of the man who had imprisoned him. Just thinking of his homeland hurt.

They’ve most likely written me off as dead by now, and for good reason.

The King was dead, and there were too many dead in the river to count. Caelan did not have to imagine that the kingdom was in a panic and that seeking the lords who were lost was the least of the kingdom’s priorities.

It was late but he heard the door above grate on the floor. He stopped pacing but began again to keep his blood flowing. He knew it would not be Adelaine as she would be at her father’s party. It was either Leicester, Tybalt or the cook. As he heard the echo of shuffling steps, he nodded to himself, it was Mrs. Hertha.

The portly woman came in and greeted him. It was dim but he could still see her, and she had on a dress that fit her form better than the others he had seen her in. It made sense, on a big night like this, the Earl would demand his staff put on their best for his celebration.

“Oh my, my,” the lady said as she stopped at the end of the staircase. “It is really dark down here.”

“Just keep walking straight,” Caelan advised her as his eyes had adjusted to this dimness a long time ago and could see more clearly than she could. As she moved off, tentative step by step he encouraged her, “That’s it…a little more…just a few more steps.”

Mrs. Hearth came to the cell bars and sighed deeply. “I don’t agree with the master having you living like this but I have no say here. The best I can do is give you something good to eat on this hallowed night.”

She handed him a fold of cloth through the flap. “There some buttered rolls, roasted beef, some fish, three cherry tarts, and a slice of pudding. And some cider.” This time she handed him a wineskin and smiled. “I know the young Miss would have wanted you to have it.”

“Lady Adelaine…” he murmured, feeling his heartache at the mention of her. “How is she doing?”

“As far as I can see she’s doing well,” Mrs. Hertha’s voice was light. “They’re having the meal now and I was told a young lord is taken with her. They danced twice and are partners at the supper table.”

Caelan’s gut twisted. “A young lord?”