Page 6 of Savage Kilted Highlander (Temptation in Tartan #9)
CHAPTER SIX
G radually, through a mammoth effort of will, she got a grip on herself.
I must be brave and not give into fear. In fact, it is a good thing that we are going to be traveling because there will be many opportunities for me to escape.
Somewhat comforted by that thought, she realized her throat was parched. She eyed the waterskin, craving a drink of water. She hated the thought of taking anything he offered her, and the idea of drinking out of the same waterskin as him was repellent.
But she was so thirsty! After debating with herself for a few minutes and deciding there was no need for her to add to her discomfort by dying of thirst, she reached for the skin and drank deeply from it, relishing the cool water as it soothed her dry throat.
“What’s yer name?” her captor asked again.
She lowered the water skin. “I said I won’t tell you,” she answered stubbornly.
“Well, I can hardly go negotiatin’ yer release if I cannae give him yer name, can I? Or have ye decided tae stay with me fer good?”
Blast!
“My name is Miss Constance Ashbourne,” she replied grudgingly. She took another drink, replaced the cork of the water skin, and threw it back at him.
He ignored it as it bounced off his knee and fell to the ground. “Constance Ashbourne. A very English name… fer a very English lady ,” he replied, stressing the last two words mockingly, as though they were some sort of insult.
“I am an English lady, and I see no need to apologize to you for it,” Constance replied tartly, doing her best to push down her growing fears concerning her immediate future.
What is going to happen to me as this ruffian’s prisoner? Where is he taking me?
She shuddered at the idea of being imprisoned for days by this uncouth monster. She would be completely at his mercy, and who knew what he was capable of?
She would find way to get away from him, she silently resolved. She would do as he said until she got the opportunity to run.
“’Tis the same fer me, Constance Ashbourne,” he rumbled in his deep voice. “I’m proud tae be a Scot, and I’m proud of me country too. I’ll nae apologize fer what I am or where I come from.”
“Are you proud of having taken me prisoner then, an innocent woman, whom you have now tied to this tree and placed completely at your mercy?” Constance lashed out. “What sort of a monster are you to treat a woman so? If you are capable of feeling any human compassion at all, can you try to imagine how frightening this is for me? I demand that you untie these ropes at once and let me go!” She held out her wrists, urging him with her eyes to cut her bonds.
For a second, she thought she had convinced him. Crushing disappointment came when he shook his head and said resolutely, “Nay. Ye’re stayin’ put. As long as ye dae what I tell ye, ye’ll come tae nay real harm with me. And when yer faither gives me what I want, he can have ye. It just means ye’ll nae be meetin’ yer faither or yer sister until after the ransom’s paid. I’m sorry about that, but ’tis naethin’ personal.”
“And what if he will not pay?” she retorted, voicing her deep-seated uncertainty. Of course, she hoped her father would welcome her with open arms and would not hesitate to pay whatever the ransom turned out to be. But there was no guarantee of it.
Her captor frowned, and Constance glimpsed her doubt mirrored in his eyes. “Why would he nae pay? Ye’re his daughter, are ye nae? Of course, he’ll pay.”
“What if he does not believe you really have me? How will you prove it’s really his daughter you are holding?” She needed to know.
“Dinnae worry about that. He’ll believe me.”
Her blood turning cold, she cried, “What does that mean? Are you going to cut off my ear or a finger and send it to him?” She had read about such things in novels.
He astonished her by bursting into loud laughter. When he had stopped laughing, he said, “If ye dinnae keep a civil tongue in yer head, I might consider it.”
“Do you know, I do not think I have ever truly hated anyone in my life, apart from perhaps one person, but I truly hate you. You enjoy making me suffer, do you not? It makes you laugh to see me so afraid.” She meant every word.
“Go ahead and hate me, Sassenach, I couldnae care less what ye think of me.”
She huffed loudly and looked away. She was already tired from a restless night at the inn, and she had ridden quite a long way that day, without a proper rest, to reach the castle. Not to mention that the strain of being abducted by a madman was taking its toll on her. She had now reached a point where she could not find the energy to spar with him any longer.
I am his prisoner, and I have to accept it. But it is only for the time being. As soon as I get the chance, I shall run away.
Giving into her exhaustion, she sighed and looked past him, through the tree line, to the craggy walls and towers of Castle Ferniehurst. They loomed against the sky, so tantalizingly near, yet so far away.
She tried to cheer herself, to think beyond her captivity, to the time when her father would have paid the ransom and she was free. She envisioned a tall, faceless man embracing her warmly, calling her his own dear daughter, unmistakably the twin of his beloved Agnes. She would live with him and Agnes at the castle. She and her sister would make up for all the years they had missed, get to know each other, love each other. And she would finally have the loving father she had always craved.
Thinking of family made her thoughts turn to turn to Amelia and Henry and her heart ache. Having grown up with their almost constant company, she missed them terribly. She hoped they had not gotten into trouble with their father over her leaving. Excited as she was about meeting Agnes, she still loved them and hated not knowing when she would see them again. She would see them again, she told herself firmly, not allowing herself to think of what might happen to her if Ewan Kerr refused to pay the ransom.
She had no clue what her father thought about her, well, the idea of her—his daughter raised in England by an English lord, as the daughter of a family close to the English Crown.
Will he hug me and cry? Disown me for being English? Or just… not care at all?
While she had journeyed to Ferniehurst Castle, she had all but succeeded in convincing herself it did not matter either way. What mattered was meeting Agnes, being reunited with her twin. She had the unshakeable feeling that, just as Agnes was the missing part of her life—which she herself had always sensed as a sad little hollow inside her heart—so she would be to Agnes. They would complete each other. It was obvious, being identical twins, that they were born to be together.
She stared at the high walls of the stronghold, silently praying that Ewan Kerr was inside them, and her mind sent out a heartfelt plea to him.
My true father, you do not know me yet, but I am your daughter, Constance. I am the one you left behind in England. Please, Father, pay this maniac whatever he wants and set me free to be with you and Agnes!
Bane made sure to maintain a cold, unfeeling mask as he covertly observed Constance Ashbourne from across the hollow dell, marveling once more at how like her sister she was. It was nigh on impossible to tell them apart, and there could be no doubt they were indeed identical twins.
It struck him as bizarre that on the very day he learned Lady Agnes never went anywhere unguarded, thus making it almost impossible to abduct her as planned, he had by some incredible fluke come across her long-lost identical twin sister. Was it fate? Coincidence? A miracle of sorts? A good omen? Or just sheer luck? He did not know, but he was not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.
He looked covertly at his captive from beneath his eyelashes. She had fallen silent and was staring past him towards the castle, apparently lost in her own thoughts. It gave him the opportunity to acknowledge just how lovely she was. His eyes had nearly popped out of his head when she had stripped down to her shift by the burn. He had burned with both shame at spying on her and excitement at the sight of her smooth white slender limbs outlined beneath the skimpy garment. For a few ecstatic moments, he had forgotten his mission altogether.
Now, in her red gown, with her abundant autumnal hair tumbling over her shoulders, she stood out, a vivid flash of scarlet against the greens and browns surrounding her. Scared as she was, she had spirit enough to argue with him. Grudgingly, he admired her for it, and he wondered if Lady Agnes had the same sharp tongue as her sister.
Deep down, he felt bad for what he was doing to her. Frightening women did not sit well with him, and he knew Tav would disapprove of his methods. Besides, Bane could not help thinking of Fia and what he would do if she was in the same situation as Constance Ashbourne. He knew that if anyone abducted his sister and kept her captive, he would hunt them down and kill them. Despite that, he hardened his heart against the English woman.
She’s me bargaining chip, me guarantee of gettin’ Tav back, and naethin’ is gonnae get in the way of that happening! I’d rather burn in hell than let him down. She’ll be safe enough with me until Kerr agrees tae the exchange goin’ ahead.
She seemed almost to be falling asleep, her slender frame curved into the hollows of the old tree. Her head, framed by long tresses, drooped gently, as delicate as a snowdrop. He had not gotten close enough to see the colour of Lady Agnes’ eyes in the courtyard that morning, but he guessed they must be the same as Constance Ashbourne’s, bright green and framed by thick dark lashes. Just like Lady Agnes’, her complexion was pale and flawless, exactly what he would expect of a woman who had very likely never done a day’s work in her life.
Lady Agnes’ unexpected beauty had surprised him earlier that day, but he had not once thought of how it would affect him when she was his captive. But now that he had her twin sister captive instead of her, he realized he had not bargained on being so drawn to it. Annoyed with himself because of it, he reminded himself of how irritating Constance Ashbourne’s English accent was, what a sharp tongue she had, and how she asked too many awkward questions.
He was determined never to give her a hint that he thought her entrancing. It would be a show of weakness she would try to exploit. For the purposes of his mission, it was necessary that she should fear him, so she would obey him. He had to stay strong, hold in his emotions long enough to see his mission to save Tav through to the end, whatever the cost.
Thus, he told himself that he watched her because she would try to escape if he did not. Beautiful as she was, he did not trust her at all and was sure she would try to get away at the first chance she got. Still, it tugged at his heartstrings to see her looking so pale and miserable, with tears glistening on her fair cheeks. It was not her fault she had the misfortune to be Ewan Kerr’s daughter.
He had planned to leave right away. It was vital to put distance between themselves and the reach of Ewan Kerr, so there could be no chance of him getting caught by the laird’s men before he could demand the return of his brother. But if what she had told him was true, that she had never met her father or sister and had only just arrived to present herself at the castle, no one would be looking for her. Lady Agnes was not missing, so no alarm would be raised.
It was a stroke of incredible luck, and it meant he could afford to give the beautiful, fragile English woman a little to rest before they set off on their journey. He took out his dirk and the whetstone and began sharpening the blade.
We’ll leave at dusk, but nay later.