His Captive, His Conquest by Ashe Barker

Chapter Ten

It was time.

Stephen glared morosely at the mug of ale before him. Harry Fairclough clomped into the hall clad in his heavy armour, earning himself a scowl from his lord.

Harry tucked his helmet under his arm and bowed to the marquis. “They are all assembled in the bailey. We but await your orders to be off.”

“Aye.”

“The girl, my lord. Is she…?”

“Aye,” Stephen repeated. “I shall go and get her.”

He could put this off no longer. Flora was no longer his. The girl never had been his, not really, though he had contrived to ignore that inconvenience for the last three and a half weeks. And now… he could barely start to envisage how empty, how cold his chamber would feel once she was no longer there.

He left the hall and trudged up the stairs. When he reached his chamber he hesitated, his hand upon the doorknob.

Should I ask her to stay?

His heart soared at the prospect, then plummeted again. In what capacity might Flora remain in his keep? As his mistress? His prisoner?

Lady Katherine would not tolerate that, especially not if they found themselves obliged to succumb to the king’s demands and proceed with the marriage. And right now, he could see no other option.

He had no desire to wed Katherine and he was well aware that she felt exactly the same way. They were friends. They respected one another deeply. But that was it. They avoided the subject as much as they might, but on the rare occasion they had spoken of it they both hoped for deliverance, for something, anything, to happen which might reveal other possibilities. Sadly, no such fortuitous circumstances had dropped into their laps.

Stephen sighed. As loyal subjects, their course was set.

His future stretched before him, and it was a future which did not contain a fiery little Scot possessed of a sharp tongue and a cunny that wrapped around his cock like a velvet glove.

He opened the door and stepped within to greet her for the final time.

“You bastard. You lying, deceitful dog.”

He was caught unawares, but his instincts did not fail him. Stephen shifted to his left just in time to avoid the earthenware jug which whistled pass his ear to smash against the wall behind him.

“You knew. All along, you knew, but you still… you still…”

He ducked fast and managed to dodge another missile, a candlestick this time.

“How you must have laughed at me. Both of you.”

Stephen sought sanctuary behind a chair and peered around it to survey the field of battle. Flora was fully dressed and clearly ready to leave, but there any semblance of order ended. She stood, hands on her hips, her features pale apart from the red circles surrounding her eyes. She bit back a sob as she reached behind her for another weapon.

He seized the opportunity to make his move and managed to reach her before she could hurl a carved box at his head. He was relieved. The box had belonged to his father, and he was fond of it. Stephen grabbed her and propelled the pair of them back towards the bed.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he demanded once he had her safety secured beneath him.

“Get off me, you monster.” She squirmed and kicked, managing to deliver a decent blow to his shin with her booted foot.

“Christ’s bones,” he muttered. “Cease this or you shall feel the kiss of leather against your pretty arse, even now.”

“Go on. Go on, then,” she snarled. “And why not invite your lovely bride-to-be in to watch? I am sure she would appreciate one last reason to scoff at me.”

“My what?” He was beyond baffled. “Who would scoff at you?”

“You would. You and Katherine. You have been playing me for a brainless simpleton all along, both of you.”

“What in God’s name are you babbling about, wench?”

“I am ‘babbling’ about that letter, from your king. Henry wonders why you are not yet wed, it seems. As do I.”

“The king’s letter? I do not understand. How did you…?”

“I read it. You left it in the solar, so I read it. All of it.”

She could not have astonished him more had she sprouted wings and fluttered about his chamber like a bat.

“You can read?” Such a possibility had never occurred to him. “How did you learn? Why…”

She was a bright little wench, he would grant her that, but no one from the peasant classes could read. Literacy was the exclusive preserve of the wealthy, the powerful, the nobility. It was so in England, and exactly the same north of the border. It always had been thus, and always would be.

“You are a peasant, of humble stock. I do not understand…”

“I am not—”

She ceased her furious but futile struggles and went still. And, mercifully, she was quiet for a few moments at least. Stephen grasped both her wrists in one hand and pinned them over her head. When she tried to look away from him, he cupped her chin and forced her gaze back to his.

“What are you not, Flora?”

“Nothing,” she spat. “I am nothing. No one. Let me go.”

He shook his head. “Not nothing. If you can read, you are not no one.” He narrowed his eyes and studied her ashen features. “But there is more, is there not?” Belatedly, he started to assemble the evidence which had been staring him in the face had he but taken. notice. “Your gentle manners, your lack of fear around horses. Those are not peasant traits.”

“You promised to release me, with the rest of my people. Let me go.”

“Tell me the truth, Flora. Who are you?”

“You know who I am.”

“Do I? Perhaps I shall need to ask that bunch of MacKinnons assembled in my bailey ready to go home. I am sure one of them will see fit to enlighten me, especially if their freedom depends upon it.”

“You cannot. Stephen, please…”

“Ah, we are back to ‘Stephen’, are we? What of ‘you bastard’? Am I no longer a lying dog? A monster?”

“I…”

“Let us simply put an end to all of this. Answer my questions, Flora, truthfully for once, and your people need not be obliged to enjoy my hospitality any longer.”

She glared at him, her emerald eyes flashing with temper, though that was cooling now, to be replaced by apprehension.

“The truth,” he urged.

“I am… I am the daughter of the Earl of Roxburghe,” she muttered at last.

He paused to absorb this latest twist. “The earl?” he breathed. “Your father is the laird of the MacKinnon clan?”

She nodded.

“I should have guessed. The clues were there after all.”

“Perhaps if you had been less quick to manhandle me, then thrash me and imprison me…”

He curled his lips in a parody of a smile. “That is a lot of perhaps, Flora.” He shook his head to clear his thoughts. “Is that even your true name?”

She nodded again. “I am Lady Flora MacKinnon of Roxburghe.”

He clenched his jaw. He believed her. It rang true.

“Why did you conceal your true identity? You must have realised it would have spared you much of the… discomfort you have endured.”

“I know, but only because you would have held me as a hostage, until my father paid the ransom.”

He loosened his grip on her wrists but did not entirely release her. What she said was true. The daughter of a laird, and an earl at that, would have been worth a decent price. He had demanded one thousand guineas for the return of Angus MacKinnon and could have had twice that sum for the daughter of the laird.

“Fuck,” he muttered, as the full ramifications crashed into place. Not only had he failed to appreciate the true worth of his captive, but he had also taken her virginity. Her father would have paid dearly for her safe return, intact and marriageable. Whereas now…

He released her and rolled onto his back to stare up at the ceiling. “Your father will know soon enough what has happened. He will doubtless feel obliged to descend upon my keep with his warriors, intent upon vengeance.”

“I know.”

“He will be defeated. Routed.”

“I know that, also.”

“Men will die.” Stephen cursed himself for the senselessness of it all. “Elborne is impregnable. Your clan will be crushed if they make war on us.” He had not the slightest doubt regarding the outcome of the conflict, but that did not raise his spirits one jot. “I shall offer to wed you.”

She sat up and rubbed her wrists. “You will do no such thing.”

“It is the best solution. The honourable solution. And you have no other marriage prospects, not now that you are…”

“No longer a virgin? Is that what you refer to, my lord?”

He slanted her a glance. “I would not have seduced you, had I known who you truly were.”

“And now, you regret your actions? Because you have destroyed my value? Because you can no longer sell me back to my father?”

He clenched his jaw. She was not entirely wrong, though the situation felt somewhat more complex than that. He silently cursed himself for the fool he was, led by his cock not his head.

Flora continued, her tone venomous. “A moment ago, you intended to send me home to face whatever the future might hold for me. Now, you are all at once concerned for my honour, my prospects.”

He tunnelled his fingers through his hair. “Flora, be sensible about this…”

“No. I shall not be sensible, as you call it. I shall be free. You promised me that.”

“It is different now.”

“I do not wish to marry you. I would not have you, Stephen of Elborne, if you were the last man on this earth. Even if you were not already promised elsewhere.”

He ignored the mention of his so-called betrothal. He had weightier considerations to address than some imagined alliance which existed only in his monarch’s head.

“Your father will have a different view of the matter, I imagine.”

“My father will not know of any of this. Who will tell him? Not me, certainly, and no one else from my people is aware of the… the circumstances of my imprisonment here. As far as they are aware, I have been held in your dungeons along with my idiot cousin.”

“What if you should bear a child?”

“I will not.”

“How can you know that?”

“I do. I… my courses have started. This very morning.”

“You are sure?” Could it be possible that no lasting harm had been done?

“Of course I am sure. Do you think me entirely stupid?” She scrambled from the bed and marched over to the door. “I am leaving. With my people. Do not try to stop me.”

“Flora, not like this. Do not go like this. We should talk…”

“I have nothing to say to you, and all that you have said to me thus far has been lies. It is over. Done with.”

“I did not lie to you. I am not promised to Lady Katherine, nor to anyone else.”

She shot him a withering glare. “I do not believe you, sir. I am only relieved that I discovered your deception in time to know what sort of a man you are. Otherwise, I might even have regretted our parting. As it is, I hope I never see you again in my life.”

Stephen rested his elbows on the stone parapet and watched the dishevelled troop of Scots trudge off along the rough track leading north. The border was less than five miles away, just a couple of hours on foot.

Half a dozen of his men accompanied the freed captives. They had orders to see them safely across the border then return to Elborne.

He could still pick out Flora, her bright-red hair betraying her presence in the middle of the group, surrounded by the other women. They had greeted her with delight in the bailey when he had escorted her from his keep. It was obvious that their lady was popular among her people.

Several of them asked her what had happened. Had she been ill-treated, hurt in any way?’

Flora shook her head, assured them that she was well and unharmed. She accepted their hugs and smiles, asked after their own welfare, and urged that they be off as soon as possible.

There was, after all, nothing to remain here for.

Stephen shielded his eyes against the low evening sun. The group was almost out of sight now, but he remained where he was until the last of them disappeared from view. He scraped his hands across his face and heaved in a deep sigh. It was over.

“I shall miss her.” Katherine waited for him at the foot of the ladder leading from the battlements. “I enjoyed our daily visits.”

He strode past, and Katherine fell into step at his side.

“She knew.” He paused to face her. “About the king’s desire to see us wed.”

“Oh? How did she learn of it? I did not tell her.”

“She read the letter I received from His Majesty. In it he expresses his impatience at not yet being informed of our nuptials.”

“I see. She can read, then? I had not thought…”

“Aye. She can read. She is the daughter of the Earl off Roxburghe.”

Katherine’s eyebrows shot up. “She kept that close. When did you discover her identity?”

“Today.”

“This sounds… complicated. You and she, you were lovers?”

“I believe it could be so described, yes.”

“What shall we do? About Flora, and about the king?”

Stephen shrugged. “Flora is gone. That chapter is over. As for the king, I believe we have little choice in the matter.”

* * *

“Hold. There are horses ahead.”

Charles MacKinnon, Flora’s cousin and the man at the head of their bedraggled column, raised his hand to halt those following. All fell silent, listening for the sounds which had alerted their leader.

Yes, there it was. The clip-clop of hooves, the creak of leather, and the low murmur of voices.

“We are on MacKinnon lands,” Flora whispered to Charles. “Surely, they must be ours.”

“The Fenwicks are known to roam these parts. Best we hide until we are sure.” He signalled to the rest to slip off the path and into the surrounding undergrowth. In moments, they were all concealed.

Flora crouched beneath a hawthorn bush and peered through the tangle of branches. The sound of hoof beats came closer, until she could actually see the fetlocks of the horses as they passed not three feet from where she hid.

“That is Zeus,” she hissed to Charles. “Do you not recognise him? The dappled grey?” She would know her brother’s favourite mount anywhere.

“Aye. You have sharp eyes, Lady Flora.” Charles rose to his feet. “’Tis your brother all right.”

“Robbie!” Flora dashed from her hiding place. “Robbie, we are here.”

The mounted warrior at the head of the column hauled on his reins, then leaped to the ground. He enfolded Flora in his arms and swung her off the ground before kissing her soundly on the mouth.

“Thank the dear Lord and all the saints,” he murmured into her hair. “I was so worried…”

She clung to his neck and bit back sobs of relief. “It is all right now. I am safe. We all are.”

“When we heard you had been taken…” He kissed her again. “We expected a ransom demand for you as well as for Angus. When none came, I feared the worst.”

“The English forced our people to work in their fields, to replant the ruined harvest.”

“Aye, I heard that Angus had a moment of utter madness. We assumed the men and women taken were to be slaughtered in retribution for then lost harvest.”

“No, it was never Stephen’s intention to do that.”

“Stephen?” Her brother eyed her quizzically.

“The marquis,” she corrected herself. “Stephen of Elborne.”

Robert MacKinnon grunted. “It is fortunate that Stephen of Elborne was not in a more vengeful mood on this occasion. Angus should have had better sense than to poke that particular bear. As it is, our coffers will be depleted by a thousand guineas since our father seems bent upon having him back.”

“A thousand guineas?” Flora could barely credit it. How much more might Stephen have demanded for her?

“Aye. If it was up to me, the fool could rot in the Elborne dungeon forever. You could have been killed, or…”

“But I was not. I am unharmed. We all are. It is over. Can we just go home?”

Her brother laid his hands on her shoulders and gazed into her face for several seconds. “Aye, then. Home. Charles can lead the rest back to Byrness. I will send men to escort them safely there. You will ride with me back to Roxburghe Castle. Our father will be relieved to see you.”

“How is Father?” Flora perched before her brother on the back of his grey stallion. Zeus’s steady canter ate up the remaining few miles between her and her childhood home.

“He ails,” Robbie replied quietly. “It is not just his cough, which is worse, I fear. He is also becoming more confused. Forgetful.”

She nodded. “I had noticed that. I wanted to believe I was mistaken, but if you have also seen it…”

“Matilda sent word to Roxburghe of the attack by the English, the taking of prisoners. At first, I gather, Father ranted and threatened all sorts of dire consequences to be rained upon Otterburn. He was rallying men to ride south, intent upon besieging Elborne Castle. Mercifully, Angus’s son, Andrew, was not in Byrness at the time of the raid, and he had the presence of mind to ride to Edinburgh to find me.”

“He is a bright lad.”

“That is true. So, I returned to Roxburghe expecting the place to be in uproar and Father off making war on the English, but when I arrived it was as though nothing was amiss. I entered our hall to find Father complaining about the fact that his porridge was cold and where were you when he needed you to put the matter to rights.”

“Oh. Oh, no…”

“He had no recollection, apparently, of having been told of the attack, or that you were even missing. He swore he had seen you just that morning from his window.”

“But you said he was willing to pay the ransom for Angus? He knew about that.”

“At some point, he must have, since he gave orders that the sum was to be counted out and set aside. The ransom has not yet been paid because our father subsequently forgot all about it. I have the money with me. I had intended to offer some of it to Otterburn as compensation for his ruined harvest, provided our people were released unhurt.”

“That would have been the wise thing to do. It is what Father should have done, would have done were he in his right mind.”

“I know that. We all know that.”

“Is there nothing we can do? Our clan needs a leader, one whose sound judgement they can rely upon.”

“It is delicate, but to all intents and purposes, I am already laird. The MacKinnons look to me, now, for guidance. They obey our father because they are loyal and he is The MacKinnon, still. He is the earl.”

“Yes, of course. And it is right that it should be so, but…”

“Enough of this. Tell me of yourself. What happened at Elborne? Charles said that you were separated from the rest. He told me that the bastard ordered that you be whipped. Did he hurt you?”

“No. No, he did not. He… he spoke in anger, but when his temper cooled, he realised such brutality was not warranted.”

“Thank God. If he had hurt you…”

“He did not. I swear it.”

“Did he…?” Her brother’s voice faltered. “Dear Christ, I hardly know how to ask, but I must. Did he force himself upon you?”

Flora hesitated. She had never deceived her brother before this and had no stomach for it now. She settled upon the closest she could come to an honest reply. “No, he did not. I was well-treated.” It was not entirely an untruth, and by no means the worst of the lies she had spun today. “Please, let us not speak of it again.”

“Father will ask,” Robbie reminded her. “He will insist upon having a full account.”

“He may, if he remembers any of this.”

Her brother let out a snort. “You are right. I left him this morning, fretting about the parlous state of his finest hunting boots. Apparently, he dropped them from his window, convinced that they had been infested with cockroaches, and they had to be fished out of the moat. As for myself, as soon as I managed to get a straight account of what had happened in Byrness, I rallied as many men as I could and set out for Elborne. I hoped to parley with the marquis for the return of the prisoners, assuming they were still alive.”

“Thank you. For coming for us.”

He hugged her from behind. “What else would I do? You are my sister. I love you and I will always look out for you.”