Adrienne Basso (21 page)

One was a priest, the other was—Lady Fiona? Though the woman’s face was hidden in the hood of her cloak, Aileen recognized the garment she wore, for it was a distinctly English style. Her curiosity soon gave way to puzzlement as she saw Fiona hug the priest, mount her horse and then follow placidly behind a large cart drawn by a pair of oxen.

Within minutes, they all disappeared from view. Realizing it was too late to call out and capture their attention, Aileen moved from the battlements. Back in her bedchamber, she dressed quickly and silently, then hurried to the stables.

The young stable boy was slack-jawed when she cast him a flirty smile, never once questioning her orders for her mare to be saddled, nor even noticing that she lacked a proper guard to accompany her.

The next challenge that awaited was the castle gate. Aileen felt her blood surge with anticipation as she drew near. She was a laird’s daughter, raised to be respected and obeyed. It would be an interesting test indeed to see if her usual forceful demeanor would succeed in getting the McLendon men to do her bidding.

Alas, she never got the chance to try. The senior guard had left his post to relieve himself and the unfortunate lad who stood sentry with him had been celebrating his brother’s marriage until the wee hours of the morning.

Badly hungover and practically asleep on his feet, he paid little heed to those leaving the castle. A disgraceful display, in Aileen’s opinion, though to be fair she believed it more important that the guard prevent undesirables from entering the domain rather than scrutinize those who were leaving.

In any case, she was through the gates without incident. Once again feeling an almost giddy sense of freedom, Aileen dug in her heels and urged her mount to increase its speed. She would have to ride hard and fast in order to intercept Fiona and her escort before anyone in the castle realized they were missing.

With each passing mile, the fear of discovery was slowly easing out of Fiona’s mind, lessening the knot in her stomach. Everything was going according to plan. Father Niall had said he told the men she was traveling with that she was a dutiful servant of God in need of the safety of an escort as she began her pilgrimage to the shrine of the Virgin Mother. Clearly they had not questioned the priest’s word, for they paid her no mind.

With the heavy cart pulled by the lumbering oxen, they continued the journey at an indolent pace. Fiona’s mare swayed, expertly avoiding a low-hanging branch that nearly knocked her from the saddle. She pulled her mount into the center of the road directly behind the cart and was concentrating on avoiding the tree branches when she heard the sound of galloping hooves closing in behind her.

Every muscle inside Fiona tensed. She twisted in her saddle, squinting through the swirling mist, and caught a glimpse of the rider.
Good Lord!
’Twas not Gavin, nor any of his men, but rather a woman. Fiona squinted again. Aileen?

The sight nearly stopped Fiona in her tracks. Turning forward, she lifted herself in the saddle, peering worriedly at the driver over the sacks of grain piled high in the cart. He never moved his head, letting her know he had not yet heard the approaching horse.

Knowing she had to intercept Aileen before any of the men saw her, Fiona turned her mount and doubled back for a few minutes, seeking a more private area off the open road where they could converse without being overheard. She cantered into an open field, then guided her impatient mount in a tight circle, resisting the strong urge to flee. No, ’twould be best to speak with Aileen and discover why she had followed her. Then hopefully she could extract a promise from the young woman to tell no one what she had seen.

Aileen slowed her horse as she drew closer, stopping at Fiona’s side. “Fiona! I knew ’twas ye I saw with the priest in the bailey.” Aileen glared at her with accusing eyes. “Where are ye going? And why did ye leave so suddenly, without saying farewell?”

Guilt tore at Fiona’s throat. How much of the truth could she reveal before causing Aileen hurt? “I’m sorry. There wasn’t time to say good-bye,” Fiona replied, deliberately answering only the last question.

Aileen flashed her a look of pure disbelief. “Why are ye leaving?” she asked again.

So many words and emotions besieged her mind, yet Fiona could speak none of them aloud. “’Tis time for me to go, Aileen.”

“What? Why? Ye must tell me yer reasons. I swear to ye, I’ll not be going anywhere until ye do,” Aileen announced, emphasizing her point by getting off her horse.

Fiona tried to contain herself. She had come too far to fail now. Truly. But Aileen’s interference was maddening. Did she not realize that this was best for all of them?

Fiona muttered beneath her breath and reluctantly dismounted. In the distance, she could hear the grain cart ambling down the dirt road. No matter. It moved slowly; she would be able to regain her place beside it as soon as she convinced Aileen to return to the castle. And keep her mouth shut.

“I am grateful to the earl for his kindness and support,” Fiona began. “His willingness to foster Spencer has relieved me of a tremendous burden, however I can no longer, in good conscience, impose on his generous hospitality. Therefore, I am leaving.”

Aileen watched her intently. “Yer explanation sounds so simple and reasonable, but yer actions prove the words false. Why must ye steal away under cover of darkness, like a thief in the night? Does the earl even know that ye are gone? What are ye hiding, Fiona?”

“Nothing,” Fiona replied beseechingly.

Aileen pursed her lips and took a deep breath. “On the day of my arrival, there were several women eager to tell me stories about ye. Vile, spiteful, dishonorable things, yet I refused to believe what they said. ’Twas rumors and gossip and I wouldn’t be a party to it.” Aileen studied Fiona closely, her expression darkening. “Was I wrong to ignore them? Are ye in truth the earl’s mistress?”

“Oh, Aileen.” Unthinking, Fiona moved forward. Aileen’s eyes widened and she moved away. The rejection stung, yet Fiona realized that Aileen’s pride must surely be hurting. “I swear to you, anything that existed between the earl and myself ended the moment you stepped inside the walls of his keep.”

“And before?”

Fiona lowered her chin, embarrassment heating her cheeks. “The past has no lasting meaning. ’Tis over and done and quickly forgotten.”

“Not by everyone,” Aileen said flatly. “Certainly not by the earl.”

“You are mistaken,” Fiona whispered, not daring to let even a sliver of hope enter her heart.

“Nay.” Aileen shook her head adamantly. “Something isn’t right.”

Fiona opened her mouth to dispute those words, but then a sudden, exhausted weariness overtook her. The days of emotional turmoil, the week of pain and sorrow and loss came crashing down on her. Fie, if she were sitting on her horse, she might very well have toppled off.

“Go back to the castle, Aileen,” Fiona said wearily, having neither the strength nor the stamina to argue anymore. “Forget what you have been told, forget what you have seen this morning. Move forward with your life and be happy. Please.”

Aileen held herself tightly, refusing to meet Fiona’s gaze. Then, as if something snapped inside her, Aileen twisted her lips into a snarl. “Ye think me a child. A silly agreeable lass, timid as a newborn kitten, who believes everything she is told, who blindly follows everyone else’s commands without question or complaint. Well, ye’re wrong about me. Dead wrong.”

“I never thought you were timid, Aileen. Young, yes, and innocent. But I’ve seen your spark of passion and strength of character. Qualities that will stand you in good stead as you mature.”

Aileen shook off Fiona’s attempts to placate her. “I will not be shamed by ye, Fiona. I’ve seen the way the earl looks at ye.”

Fiona gasped. “What?”

“He hides it well, but every now and again it emerges. The longing in his eyes, the sadness on his brow. Pray, do not insult me by denying it.”

The bitterness in Aileen’s voice startled her. Fiona had been so caught up in her own misery she hadn’t realized the extent of Aileen’s distress and disappointment. Or knowledge.

“Then you understand why I must go.”

“Aye. ’Tis best, I know. But I also know if ye run from him, he’ll chase after ye.”

Fiona’s gut tightened. “He won’t find me. Especially if you keep my secret and say nothing.”

Aileen put her hand on her horse’s flank as if to steady herself. “Don’t ye see, it will be worse? If he never finds ye, he will never forget ye. How can I live with that truth?”

Fiona looked at Aileen in shock. “You are exaggerating his feelings for me. They are not that strong or that constant. In but a few weeks’ time, I will be nothing more than a distant memory for him.”

Aileen lifted a wry brow. “’Tis what I pray fer every night.” Her breath hitched. “I willnae share my husband. I willnae allow him in my bed while he pines fer another in his mind and heart. He must choose me willingly, freely, or else he’ll not have me.”

“He already has chosen you,” Fiona choked. “You will be his bride, his countess.”

Aileen closed her eyes. Fiona could see the rigid set to her shoulders. She was holding herself tightly, striving to remain composed. “The earl made an agreement with my father. I dutifully accepted that decree without knowing the facts.”

Fiona couldn’t stop the flood of pity that washed over her. Aileen was so young! Yet surely old enough to understand the unfairness of a woman’s fate in this harsh world run by men. Women of their station rarely, if ever, had the right to voice an opinion about the men they married. More often than not, they had to suffer their husbands until death dissolved the union.

“You cannot defy your father,” Fiona said gently.

Aileen’s eyes flew open. “He willnae force me to wed if he believes the earl’s offer to be self-serving and insincere. Therefore, I have decided that I will only marry the earl if he freely pledges his honor and fidelity to me. And he must speak that vow while we are standing side by side, so that I may judge for myself its truth and sincerity.”

The words had barely left Aileen’s lips when a group of men on horseback burst from the trees on the other side of the clearing, racing toward them at a thunderous speed.

“Well, now that we’ve been discovered,” Aileen said with a pragmatic shake of her head, “we shall continue this conversation once we have returned to the castle.”

Her thoughts in a jumble, Fiona squinted at the riders. A sense of relief engulfed her when she realized Gavin was not among them. She was in no mood to face him, especially knowing he was going to be very angry when he discovered what she had done.

The riders continued to bear down on them. Fiona could see clumps of grass and dirt flying into the air as the horses’ hooves ate up the distance separating her and Aileen from their rescuers.

Fiona considered trying to mount her horse, but decided it was too difficult and cumbersome without assistance. Aileen also remained on her feet. An uneasy breeze stirred. Fiona could see the tension in the way the men hugged their mounts, the tightness in which they gripped the reins.

What she did not see was a single face she recognized, nor a McLendon or Sinclair plaid.

“Run!” Fiona yelled suddenly.

Aileen stood transfixed, her expression bewildered. “Fiona, there is no need—”

“Quickly,” Fiona shouted, shoving Aileen forward. “We have to find a place to hide.”

“But—”

“Now, Aileen! These are not the earl’s men or your father’s. Hurry!”

For a split second everything went still. And then Aileen lifted her skirts and broke into a run. Fiona followed right behind, matching the younger woman step for step. They ran with fear and purpose, yet had no set course. Escape was their only thought.

They made it to the tree line and disappeared into the underbrush. For the first time Fiona was glad they didn’t have time to mount their horses, since the large animals would not be able to follow the narrow paths. Branches snapped and swung, whipping their legs and arms, but the women kept running.

“Where can we hide?” Aileen called out breathlessly.

“I don’t know,” Fiona answered frantically. “Look for a thicket. Or maybe a cave?”

“We could climb a tree,” Aileen huffed.

Fiona’s eyes scanned the large trunks, looking for low branches. Seeing none, they pressed on, the sounds of pursuit drawing nearer.

“We should separate,” Fiona yelled. “When I give the signal, you go right and I’ll turn left.”

But Fiona never got the chance. A strangled cry escaped her throat as two large hands grasped her shoulders. They pulled her back, then clamped around her waist, squeezing so hard the breath was pushed from her lungs.

At her cry, Aileen turned around. The movement caused the young woman to lose her footing and she tumbled to the hard ground. The moment she fell, another man leapt on top of her, wrenching her arms behind her back and shoving her face into the moss-covered ground.

“Stop! You’re hurting her!” Fiona kicked and bucked, struggling to free herself from the iron hold. But her captor’s strength was unrelenting, making escape impossible.

“I’ll do a lot more than bruise her pretty wrists if ye dinnae shut yer mouth and keep still,” the ruffian snarled.

Fiona’s heart sank. She immediately went limp. Satisfied that they were being compliant, the men took their time binding first Aileen’s and then Fiona’s wrists. As they stood facing each other, Fiona caught the younger woman’s eyes and pursed her lips tightly, then shook her head sharply.

Aileen nodded. Fiona sighed. Thank the saints the girl understood they needed to keep silent. If they were lucky, these men were minions, under service to another. Their leader might prove more sensible, someone with whom they could negotiate. Someone who would be interested in collecting a substantial ransom for their safe return.

Taking her by the arm, Fiona’s captor marched her out of the woods. She and Aileen were brought to the edge of a clearing where the others were waiting.

“Looks like ye’ve caught a bonnie prize,” an arrogant voice proclaimed. “Good work.”

Fiona heard Aileen gasp. She turned and looked up. No wonder. The man sitting astride the large white stallion was as handsome as the devil, his eyes sharp and assessing, his countenance foreboding. He was flanked by two armed men on either side of him, both older than he, but there was no doubt who was in command.

Sweat glistened on the neck and flanks of all the men’s horses, evidence of their punishing ride. A shove from behind brought Fiona close enough to feel the animal’s heated breath on the top of her head. But she dared not shrink away, suspecting that this man would be respectful of a sign of courage.

His hard stare passed coldly over her. Yet try as she might, Fiona could not control her shiver. Beside her, Aileen stood rigidly composed.

“Which one will ye take first?” the man holding her arm asked. “The redhead or the blonde?”

“Now that’s a problem I wish I had to confront every day of the week,” someone called out.

Several of the men laughed; a few openly leered. Aileen’s breath caught in a sharp gasp. Fiona wished she could offer some sort of comfort, but her wrists were bound and she dare not take her eyes off the leader. Their fate rested solely in his hands.

“We have no quarrel with these fine ladies,” the leader said, his mouth falling into a grim line. “But the earl will have to meet our demands if he wants to get them back.”

“Both of them?” a guttural voice questioned. “Now, why should he be having two such bonnie lasses while we have none?”

“Aye,” the ruffian holding Fiona’s arm shook her so hard her teeth rattled. “If ye insist, we’ll return one. And keep the other. At least fer a few days.”

“That’s enough, Magnus,” the leader admonished. The words were uttered in an even tone, but the look in his eyes held a hard, uncompromising edge that could not be ignored.

Magnus lost a bit of his bravado. He lowered his head and cursed loudly under his breath, but did not relinquish his hold on Fiona’s arm.

Satisfied, the leader turned to the man on his left. “Alec.”

The man nodded and moved his horse forward. Catching Aileen under the arms, he lifted her, heaving her up to his horse like a sack of grain. She shrieked in fear as she literally flew in the air.

“Stop wiggling, lass, or I’ll drop ye,” Alec said, and the men broke into laughter.

Alec swung Aileen forward, placing her rump on the horse, seating her sideways in front of him. Nervously Aileen tried to keep her balance, but her bound hands made it difficult. Even worse, the leader gave a signal and Magnus quickly tied her ankles together. Now she was well and truly secured.

Alec’s arms tightened around Aileen and Fiona could see the younger woman lean into the embrace. It seemed odd, but ’twas the only thing she could do—if not, she’d lose her seat and tumble to the ground.

With Aileen settled, the man on the white horse bent low and held his hand out to Fiona. She shook her head and backed away. He nudged his horse forward and she got her first clear look at his features.

There was something very familiar in the depths of those deep blue eyes, and the bold, chiseled angles of his cheeks and jaw. The harsh determination on his features was unmistakable, yet oddly reminiscent of someone else. Someone she knew.

A lump formed in Fiona’s throat, nearly choking her with fear when she realized who she faced. For an instant she was stunned into silence, her mind trying to deny what her eyes told her.

“Ye’ll ride with me, Lady Fiona,” he said, in a voice as smooth as imported silk.

Aileen’s breath hitched in surprise, but Fiona had already determined their identities were known to this man.

“As you command, Master Gilroy,” she answered.

His eyes widened a fraction at her reply and Fiona knew her suspicion was correct. He was the earl’s bastard half brother. His sworn enemy. But Fiona was not so foolish as to challenge him in front of his men. At this point, he was the only thing standing between them and brutal treatment, possibly even rape.

Though the voice in her head was screaming with protest, Fiona stood very still. Gilroy’s hands encircled her waist. With a single grunt, he lifted her off the ground as though she weighed no more than a babe and placed her in front of him. Magnus quickly placed the bonds around her ankles, biting into her tender flesh as he tightened them.

“We’re off.” Gilroy pressed his knees into the horse’s flanks and the animal instantly responded.

It was a teeth-rattling ride. Fiona struggled to keep her balance, an almost impossible accomplishment, given her awkward position on the horse and her bound hands and feet. Yet each time she feared she might indeed fall from the horse and be trampled to death, Gilroy’s arm tightened around her waist and pulled her closer to the solid wall of his muscular chest.

Her muscles trembled with the effort to keep her seat. Sweat lined her brow and trickled down her spine. As they rode, Fiona offered a short prayer of salvation, for their safe deliverance. However, her prayers soon gave way to blaspheme and before long she was cursing herself for falling into Gilroy’s hands so easily.

She knew he would try to use them in some way to retaliate against Gavin. If they were lucky, he would try to ransom them. What did not bear thinking was the possibility he would harm or even kill them in order to goad the earl.

For all their sakes, she prayed that there was a shred of decency in Ewan Gilroy, a trace of the McLendon honor alive within his heart. It was their only hope.

After what felt like hours, they passed through a very dense section of woods and emerged in a small glade. Fiona had no idea how long they had been riding or even what direction they had traveled. Though he knew his lands far better than she did, Fiona rightfully feared Gavin would have a difficult time finding them.

Gilroy steered his horse slowly around the perimeter of the glen, then gave the signal to dismount. He reined in his snorting mount, waiting for one of his men to hold the bridle until he dismounted. Once on the ground, he reached up and pulled Fiona into his arms and set her on the ground.

Limbs aching, Fiona wobbled, nearly falling over. Aileen seemed to be having similar difficulty, but Alec reached out to steady her. Since Fiona was not afforded a similar courtesy, she was merely grateful she didn’t tip over and land on her backside.

With everyone now standing, Fiona got her first good look at the rest of the men who accompanied Gilroy. They were a haggard bunch, almost all older than their leader, except for one of the lads. A few eyed her and Aileen with mild interest, two others openly leered.

Icy talons clutched Fiona’s heart at those looks, the fear strong and sharp. She fought to stay calm, knowing she must not allow herself to panic. All was not lost. They had been captured, but thus far were uninjured.

At a nod from Gilroy, Alec moved between her and Aileen. He first grasped Aileen around the waist with his left arm, then did the same with his right to Fiona. Their hands and feet still bound, the women hobbled beside him as he half carried, half dragged them to a shady area beneath the trees.

Alec relinquished his hold and they fell, rather ungracefully, to the ground, each landing on their backs. Amused laughter rumbled from the circle of men who were obviously watching their every move. Fiona was certain they resembled a pair of flapping fish just pulled from the loch. Trying to regain her dignity, she rolled onto her stomach, her chin nearly colliding with the top of Aileen’s head.

“We must try to escape,” Aileen hissed.

Fiona could not contain a small grin. Aileen’s fighting spirit bolstered her own flagging courage, but they could not afford to be foolish. “We will not get very far rolling our way through the woods,” Fiona said, lifting her bound hands for emphasis.

Aileen winced. “I meant as soon as our feet and hands are freed from these bonds.”

“I’m uncertain if that will occur anytime soon.”

“They cannae keep us tied indefinitely,” Aileen sputtered.

Fiona merely raised her brow. Aileen glared at her for a long moment before her shoulders sagged. “The earl will rescue us,” she declared, yet Fiona could hear the trace of helplessness in the young woman’s voice.

Fiona rolled to her side and watched the men, now gathered in a tight bunch, intently. A rather heated discussion was in progress, but most of the words were undistinguishable, making it impossible to follow the conversation. A rustling noise from the other side of the glen drew Fiona’s attention—and her hopes—yet they were quickly dashed when the grain wagon she had been riding with appeared.

She gave a short prayer of mercy for the souls of the men who had been riding with her. Perhaps one or two of them had managed to escape?

Clearly, the grain cart had been Gilroy’s original target. Capturing her and Aileen was merely a bonus to the outlaw, one he was delighted to exploit. If the situation had not been so dire, Fiona might have laughed at the irony. Father Niall’s concern for her safety upon leaving the castle and insistence that she travel with the grain cart had placed her directly in the path of the earl’s most despised and feared enemy.

The grain was quickly unloaded from the wagon. The sacks were counted, then lifted and tied on the backs of several horses. Once the bounty was secured, three of the men led the oxen away.

“’Tis a perfectly good cart,” one of them muttered. “I dinnae know why we have to chop it fer firewood.”

Gilroy shared a long, meaningful look with his men. “I want the job finished by nightfall. Make certain every trace of the damn thing is gone, including the wheels. Then distribute the wood among the houses in our glen.”