Highlander’s False Betrothal by Alisa Adams
15
“Well, that was a rather unfortunate turn of events,” Bhaltair mused, pouring himself a drink.
“Have you gone mad, Father?” Scott sputtered indignantly. The two were in Bhaltair’s study again, and this time, they were accompanied by Caroline, who had been dragged down from the guest chamber at knifepoint. “Your plan is in ruins! And once Aodh goes and tells his people what has transpired here—”
“He will do no such thing,” his father replied.
“How on earth can you be sure?” Scott demanded.
Bhaltair pointed a stubby finger at Caroline. “Her. He will not choose to return to Campbell Castle because he could not bear to leave her in our clutches for that long, could he? He could not run away and let her suffer a moment more than she had to. No, he will come here to rescue the lass, mark my words. And we will be ready for him.”
“How can you possibly think that, knowing that our marriage is a false one?” Caroline challenged. “What makes you think he has any affection for me at all?”
“Because he tried to take you out the window with him,” the laird retorted with a fiendish glint in his eye. “From his posture, it appeared as though he was even willing to take the brunt of the impact once you both hit the ground. He was willing to risk having you along, slowing him down. No, your marriage may be false, but his feelings for you would appear to be quite real indeed.”
Caroline was hopeful of that, though she did not dare let Bhaltair think so. She didn’t relish the prospect of him sending his men out after Aodh, but she liked the idea of all of them waiting at the estate to spring a trap for him even less.
“I tell you, he hates me!” she insisted. “He hates all the English! Why do you think he went through all the trouble of arranging a fraudulent marriage? The idea of being truly married to a British woman sickened him!”
“Mayhap you tell the truth,” Bhaltair said whimsically, “and mayhap you do not. I suppose we shall learn soon enough, eh? For now, if you value your life, you will write a letter to your father. You will confess that your marriage was not genuine and tell him that you were coerced into the arrangement by Aodh. You will tell him that my forces are marching to meet his so that we may both pay the Campbells back for their treachery as a single army.”
“But I already did what you asked!” Caroline pleaded. “We had a deal! As long as I did not warn Aodh that you and your men were coming to kill him, you would consent to let me go!”
“Ah, but that plan did not go as it was supposed to,” he purred, “and so now, we renegotiate. Think of it this way, lass: I could cut your throat and tell your father that Aodh did it, and Lord George would almost certainly believe me. However, I am generously offering you an alternative, and I do suggest you take it.” He stood up from his desk, gesturing for her to take his seat. “You may make use of my inkpot and pen if you wish.”
Caroline’s mind whirled as she tried to come up with a plan to stall or save herself, but she could not. Bhaltair was right when he said that her father would believe Aodh murdered her because, after all, her father was a gullible fool and quick to anger.
Writing such a letter would be a hateful thing indeed, but it would buy her time to think of a better plan.
So she rose, walked to the desk, availed herself of the writing supplies at hand, and did as she was told.
Bhaltair surveyed the letter, blowing on the ink impatiently to dry it faster. When he got to the end, he chortled eagerly, nodding. “Aye, well done, lass. This should put the cat among the pigeons right enough, eh? Now, I shall see to it that this is sent at once, and Scott will escort you down to the dungeons so that you may pass the time with your…well, I suppose I can hardly call her your ‘sister by law,’ now can I?”
Caroline’s blood turned to ice. “You have imprisoned Freya? Why?”
“For her knowledge of the false marriage, of course!” Bhaltair answered grandly. “The fact that she knew you two intended to perpetrate this fraud—and that she told no one—makes her an accomplice to it!”
“She knew nothing of this plan!” Caroline exclaimed. “She is innocent!”
“Is that so?” Bhaltair shrugged. “Well, no matter. I have no doubt that Ainsley will be willing to include Freya’s involvement in her story when she recounts it. It makes everything so much simpler, does it not?”
“Father, please, I fear we have taken this much too far,” Scott protested.
Bhaltair’s eyes burned with rage. “Do as you’re told, boy! At once!”
Scott did not dare refuse his father when Bhaltair used such a harsh tone with him. He took Caroline by the arm and led her down to the dungeons. She struggled, but he was far stronger than he appeared, and his grip was like iron.
When they reached the dank and moldy prison below, Scott tossed her in.
“I did not wish for this,” he said apologetically as he slammed the door behind her. “Please forgive me, and try not to judge me or my father too harshly.”
While all of this transpired, Aodh crept through the woods stealthily, still keeping an ear out for Bhaltair’s guards. He planned to go back for her under cover of darkness, but as the sun slipped beneath the horizon, he heard a great thundering of hooves coming from the estate.
Laird Bhaltair’s soldiers were riding in the direction of Campbell Castle. He could not make a precise count in the gloom of dusk, but he was fairly certain there were dozens of them, perhaps over a hundred.
All of those men, riding upon the remaining Campbell clansmen with no warning whatsoever. The Campbell warriors would barely have time to rouse themselves from bed before being swiftly and savagely cut down.
Another sneak attack from the Carnegies,he thought. Those bloody cowards.
But what could he do about it?
If he’d had a horse, he might have been able to ride ahead of them and warn his clan. But then he’d be leaving Caroline at Bhaltair’s mercy, and that notion turned his stomach. Besides, no horse was available to him unless he wanted to risk stealing one from the stables, and that would cost him even more time he could not afford.
Then he heard a twig snap near him and spun, thinking that the guards might have pursued him after all and once again wishing he were armed with anything, even a dagger. His eyes scanned the ground for a large enough fallen branch he could swing like a club.
But there was no time. There was a rustling in the underbrush as the unseen person drew nearer, and Aodh knew he only had moments to react.
He lunged, tackling the figure to the ground and preparing to forcibly confiscate a weapon.
The face that looked up at him belonged to a boy of ten or twelve, his eyes filled with fright. “Please let me go, sir!” he begged. “I wasn’t going to poach no deer, honest I wasn’t! I just wanted to get a look at them, that’s all!”
“Never mind that,” Aodh said, breathing a sigh of relief. He withdrew and stood, helping the boy to his feet. “Do you have a horse, lad?”
For a moment, it seemed as though the boy would not answer for fear that Aodh intended to steal it. Finally, he nodded.
“Excellent.” Aodh almost asked whether the boy knew the way to Campbell Castle, then stopped himself. There was little chance the lad would make it in time, but then Aodh remembered that there were other allies who were closer at hand. “The Hamilton estate. Do you know how to get there?”
The lad nodded again.
“Then I need you to ride as fast as you can and deliver a message to Laird Marcus and Lady Sorcha,” Aodh insisted. “You must raise the alarm! Tell them that the Campbells are about to be under attack by Carnegie’s men!” He handed the lad a satchel of coins. “Tell Sorcha that her brother Laird Aodh ordered Laird Marcus to give you twice this much over again, and he will do it! Now go!”
“Yes, sir!” The lad turned to leave.
“Wait!” Aodh called out. “Do you have a knife on you?”
The boy fumbled with a small sheath on his belt, then finally managed to remove it, handing the blade to Aodh. “Good luck to you, sir!” the lad said before vanishing into the underbrush.
Aodh knew full well that the lad might simply ride off wherever he pleased rather than doing as he promised, but that was beyond his control now. It was the only chance that had presented itself, and God help him, he had seized it.
Now it was time to return to the Carnegie manor for his sister…and for the woman who was, more or less, his wife.
