Page 7 of Savage Kilted Highlander (Temptation in Tartan #9)
CHAPTER SEVEN
C onstance awoke with a start, and was immediately conscious of her cramped, aching limbs. There was pain in her hands and arms, but when she tried to flex them to relieve it, she realized she could not. She immediately panicked and opened her eyes, and any hope that she had been having a nightmare was dashed—her wrists were tied together with rope!
Feeling eyes upon her, she raised her head, and her gaze met those of her captor. He was staring at her intently, and she shivered as cold dread filled her. He got up and came towards her, and when she saw the knife in his hand, she screamed. He stopped and looked down at the knife as though he had only just noticed it, then put it away.
Nevertheless, her heart hammered in her chest with fear when he knelt next to her, wondering what he was going to do to her. But he only took hold of her wrists with surprising gentleness and began undoing the knots, loosening the ropes a little.
The blood rushed painfully back into her hands, pins and needles stabbing her. She rubbed then briskly. “Thank you,” she murmured, unwillingly grateful to him.
Saying nothing, he rose and untied her from the tree. Then he said, “Get up, we’re leavin’.”
With some difficulty, for her legs had gone numb, she used the tree trunk to pull herself up to a standing position. She wobbled unsteadily, waiting a few minutes before the strength in her legs returned. Looking around at the horses, she realized he had already packed up the camp while she had been asleep.
“Where are you taking me?” she asked.
“Ye dinnae need tae ken that,” he told her, attaching a long line between his horse and Lucy’s bridle, which puzzled Constance. He led her over to the horses, and before she could do anything about it, she felt his hands around her waist, and she was lifted into the air, then plonked in the saddle of his horse. Feeling unstable, she clutched at the edge of the saddle with her bound wrists. Taking no notice, he arranged her cloak over her hands, hiding the rope.
Then, to her horror, he swung himself up behind her, enclosing her body between his thighs, his arms reaching around her to take the reins. her cheeks flaming with embarrassment, for she had never been so close to a man before in her life! He walked the horses forward along a narrow trail between the trees, leading Lucy behind.
“Why must I ride with you? Why can I not ride my own horse?” she asked, trying and failing to distance herself from him. It was extremely disturbing to be crushed up against his chest, but there was simply nowhere to go. She resigned herself to putting up with it, doing her best to hold herself aloof.
“This way we’ll seem like a couple and nae draw any undue attention tae ourselves,” he explained. “And ’tis easier to hide the fact that ye’re hands are tied.” Skillfully, he guided the beasts onto a wider track.
“To hide the fact that I am your prisoner, you mean,” she replied scathingly, despising him.
“Aye, ye’ve got the idea.”
They rode in silence for what felt like hours, the hostility between them almost palpable. Constance hoped they would join the main highway at some point, and she planned to shout out for help once they did. But they did not go anywhere a highway. Instead, her captor stuck to the forest trackways. Though darkness had fallen and he had only the light of a half-moon to navigate by, he seemed to know exactly where he was going. She had no idea where they were nor in which direction they were headed. No doubt he had the route all planned out beforehand, she thought resentfully.
The April night had turned cold, and after a while, it began to rain heavily. The fat drops bounced off the leaves and cascaded onto their heads and shoulders, soaking their cloaks. “We’ll make camp for the night soon. There’s a cave up ahead,” he suddenly announced. Constance, cold, wet, and bone weary after the long ride, breathed a sigh of relief a few minutes later when they finally came upon a small clearing in the trees, and he reined in the horses.
Wiping the rain from her eyes with her sleeve, she looked around and noticed a rocky outcrop half hidden behind some bushes. He slid from the saddle and lifted her down, then pushed her towards the bushes. “Go behind them,” he instructed “and ye’ll see the cave. ’Tis nae as grand as what ye’re used tae, I’m sure, but at least we’ll be out of the rain and can dry off a bit before we get some sleep.”
He took the horses’ bridles and followed her as she lifted up her skirts and picked her way carefully to the rear of the bushes. The cave was set into the outcrop, its dark entrance yawning intimidatingly in front of her like the maw of a giant beast. It had a projecting overhang of several feet, beneath which the gravely floor was mostly dry. She guessed would provide good shelter for the horses.
Below the rocky overhang, the mouth of the cave opened up. She had to stoop a little to look inside. It was dark, but she could see enough in the little moonlight that penetrated the interior to be horrified at the thought of spending a night in there. It had a rough, earthen floor strewn with debris blown inside by the wind. Although one had to stoop to enter, it opened up inside, its craggy ceiling high enough to allow a man to stand up. It was impossible to tell how far back the surprisingly roomy cavern stretched because after the first ten feet or so, all was lost in shadow.
Constance shivered, partly from the chill and the mournful whistle of the wind as it ran around the cavern walls, and partly from the implications of the dank smell of wet animal that assaulted her nostrils. She turned to him as he hitched the horses to a bush beneath the overhang.
“Ugh, it smells horrible in there. I refuse to go in. There might be a bear or a mountain lion living in there. I know such creatures roam the wilds of Scotland and that they attack people,” she told him, resolved not to enter the cave.
“Ach, stop yer fussin’. I’ve slept in here just fine a couple of times. Trust me, there’s naethin’ in there that’s gonnae eat ye,” he replied dismissively, unloading the baggage. “Now, are ye just gonnae stand there, or are ye gonnae help me with this stuff?” He dumped the baggage at her feet and turned back to the horses, removing the saddles and tack, spreading warm blankets over the beasts’ backs, and seeing to their comfort.
She gathered up the things as instructed but remained outside the cave, still frightened to go in. Finally, with the horses settled, he came up to Constance, lugging the saddles, one beneath each arm, as though they weighed nothing.
Even in her fear, she noticed the bulging muscles of his upper body outlined beneath his wet jerkin. She averted her eyes from them, for they made her feel peculiar. “You cannot seriously expect me to spend the night in there!” she cried and backed away from the cave entrance, clutching the baggage to her chest. “I am not used to this sort of rough living, as you evidently are. I have never slept in anything except a proper bed inside a house or an inn!”
If she had expected sympathy, she was rudely disappointed.
“Ach, I dinnae have time fer this nonsense. Ye’re gonnae sleep in there whether ye like it or nae, ye spoiled wee thing. It’ll be comfy enough once we get settled. Go on, in ye go,” he said, shoving her impatiently with his elbow towards the entrance. Seeing no other choice but to obey, Constance shot him a furious glance as she ducked her head and reluctantly entered the cave. The intense chill hit her instantly. Already cold from the wind and rain, her teeth stared to chatter, and she stood shivering, rubbing her arms beneath her wet cloak in a vain attempt to warm herself. Her feet in the pretty shoes were like lumps of ice.
He followed her inside and set the saddles and tack down on a rock by the entrance. He seemed to notice her discomfort and, surprisingly, appeared to take pity on her because he said, “I admit it daesnae seem very cozy now, but it’ll warm up once I make a fire. Go and find some firewood while I get things done here, will ye? There should be some dry wood under the bushes by the entrance and under the trees.”
She stared at him, appalled. “You want me to go out there on my own, in the dark and rain, and pick up bits of wood?”
He turned to her, his eyes glinting in the little moonlight that penetrated the cave. “Would ye prefer tae freeze tae death?”
She would not, but she still did not want to go outside as he commanded. “You are taking a chance letting me go out there alone. I could take the opportunity to run away,” she told him, thinking that would change his mind. But annoyingly, he only smirked.
“Feel free. But it’ll be very difficult with yer hands till tied, and ’tis dark and cold out there, nae tae mention the rain or all the hungry beasties lurkin’ in the forest.”
He said the last part with such relish, it infuriated Constance, but it also frightened her. She hated to admit that he was right. It was truly a foul night, and she was afraid of the wild animals out there. To try to escape now would be worse than foolhardy, it would be downright dangerous. Furthermore, irksome though it was, she knew that if she did not want to die of cold during the night, she had to fetch the firewood.
“I shall need my boots,” she declared. “These shoes are hardly suitable for such work.”
“Well, ye ken where they are. Ye can change yer own shoes, eh? Or d’ye expect me tae dae it fer ye, me lady ?”
With an exasperated huff, she flounced over to her saddle bags and extracted her riding boots, exchanging them for the wet shoes. It was a relief, but she could still hardly feel her feet at all. Without looking at him, she went back out into the chilly night. For a few moments, she stood in the sheltering lee of the cave, shivering as she looked out into the rainy darkness of the surrounding forest.
It was utterly alien to her and even just imagining what could be out there had her heart racing with fear. However, just then, Lucy whickered softly to her right. The mare’s familiar, gentle greeting and the presence of the horses nearby was suddenly deeply comforting. Constance went over to them and petted them both for a little while, whispering endearments. Their good-natured calmness and quiet strength allowed her to get her fear under control somewhat.
She stroked Lucy’s velvety nose and whispered into the mare’s ear, “Maybe I cannot escape tonight, but that does not mean I am giving up. Sooner or later, my chance will come.” Lucy nodded her head as if in agreement. Constance patted both horses goodnight and sighed as she left them, bitterly regretting having stopped in the forest to change instead of going straight to see her father. She would not have been in that mess if she had… but it was too late. She was stuck with that monstrous villain until her father paid the ransom he kept on about.
Steeling herself for the unaccustomed work ahead, she pulled up the hood of her cloak for protection against the worst of the rain and darted out into bushes. She bent down and groveled beneath them as directed, thankful to discover that the ground them was fairly dry still. She set to gathering small twigs and pieces of wood in her hands.
It was not easy in the semi-darkness, with her wrists bound, especially when her gown kept catching on the twigs and she had to pull it free. But she persevered. For some strange reason she did not understand, she wanted to prove she was not as useless as he made out. But whether it was to herself or to him, she was unsure.
Soon, there was too much wood for her to carry in her hands. Reluctantly, for lack of anything else, she finally gave in and gathered up her skirts to make it easier to carry it. But with only small twigs to be had, the collection grew very slowly. Every few minutes she checked, but it never seemed enough, although she had no clue exactly how much that was.
As she toiled, she could not help thinking that back at Ashbourne Manor, she had taken it for granted that servants rose at dawn to make the fires. If she wanted the room to be warmer, she summoned a servant to put more logs on the fire. She needed only to ring a bell, and such things happened like magic. For the first time in her life, she questioned the arrangement. It was uncomfortable to admit it in the circumstances, but it occurred to her that there was some truth to the accusations he had levelled at her about being spoiled.
She had only ever been told she was spoilt by one other person in her life, Lord Ashbourne in one of his cold rages. She had not liked it then, and she did not like it now. So, taking advantage of a moment when the moon shone clearly through the clouds, she screwed up her courage, crept out from behind the bushes, and made a dash under the trees, hoping to find larger pieces of dry wood. In the washed-out light, she began searching and soon came across parts of fallen branches.
Afraid of spiders and other creepy crawlies, she grimaced as she carefully lifted the pieces and shook them vigorously to dislodge anything that might be lurking within them. “Ew! Disgusting!” she moaned to herself, hating the way the rough bark chafed her hands and soiled them. But she was determined not to return to the cave without proving she was capable of fulfilling the task.
At least I can wash me hands , but my gown is going to be ruined!
She only had two other gowns with her. Nevertheless, it was with a small sense of achievement that she added the fresh wood to the rest of the collection. Satisfied she had gathered enough, she had just turned to go back when suddenly, out of nowhere, a shrill, unearthly scream ripped through the night air close by her head. Constance screamed and ducked in terror, almost jumping out of her skin and nearly dropping the load she had gathered.