Page 9 of Seduced By the Reckless Highlanders

Murdoch sighed and took a draft of his ale. “Life is not fair, Dougie.”

They sat in silence for a while, each with his own thoughts, then Dougie spoke again. “We need a plan,” he observed. “We cannot just sit an’ wait for somethin’ tae happen.”

“We could ask every single person for miles around,” Murdoch suggested grimly, “but that would take ages, and we would need many more men.”

“We could torture them,” Dougie suggested, grinning.

“No,” Murdoch laughed. “Some of them would likely enjoy it!”

They sat for a long time throwing ideas back and forth, but none seemed to be without its drawbacks. If there was an ambush, attacking the ambushers would cause absolute chaos, and they could not be sure that innocent people would not be hurt.

“I have an idea,” Dougie said at last, after they had finished three goblets of ale. “Could you no’ ask Lady Keira tae speak to the people on our behalf?”

“But the laird has already sent us out to find the upstarts who are doing this,” he pointed out. “What good could his daughter do?”

Dougie leaned closer to him. “We need tae ask for more help, an’ if we appeal to the lady herself, she might be inclined tae help us. I hear she is a kind woman. Many o’ the tenants are barely survivin’, an’ I think she would be glad tae help.”

Murdoch thought for a moment. “I think that might work, Dougie,” he said admiringly. “Good thinking. More ale?”

Dougie shook his head. “This is strong stuff,” he answered. “I might no’ be able tae stand up soon!”

The next day, just after breakfast, Keira knocked on the door of Adaira’s chamber. The young woman opened it slowly, peeping around the edge to see who was on the other side. When she saw Keira, she gave a deep sigh of relief and opened the door wide.

Keira looked around her with pleasure, as she always did when entering Adaira’s room. Her father had not, at least, stinted on the decor in his wife’s chamber. The room had a high ceiling with beautifully sculpted cornices, a chandelier with an ornate ceiling rose in the middle and half-paneled walls of pale oak. There were small tables dotted around the chamber, each with a silver candelabra or a vase of spring flowers on it.

The dressing table was also ornately carved, its shining mahogany surface polished to perfection, its mirror gleaming. Two satin-covered armchairs sat before the fire with its gorgeously carved mahogany fireplace and marble mantel.

The armoire was also made of mahogany, as was the bed, which was very feminine, with a pale yellow satin brocade and canopy and a floral quilt and coverlet. Sprinkled all over the floor were jewel-colored rugs, which brought even more brightness to the chamber.

“I don’t think I have ever seen such a beautiful room,” Keira mused.

“It is my sanctuary,” Adaira confessed, sighing. “Whenever your father wants to make love to me, I have to go to his room so that I do not feel his presence here at all.”

Keira gazed at Adaira pityingly. “Is it so bad?” she asked gently.

Adaira nodded. “You cannot imagine,” she said sadly. Then she perked herself up. “Would you like some mulled wine? My maid has just fetched some.”

“Always!” Keira laughed.

She watched Adaira as she fetched it, noting her long, elegant hands and the perfect lines of her face, which looked like the statue of a Madonna. Her figure, too, was womanly, curved in all the right places and in perfect proportions. It made Keira furious to think that such a kind and lovely person should be wasted on a tyrant like her father.

“Thank you,” Keira said as Adaira handed her the goblet of wine, then sat down opposite her.

“I take it you have come to discuss what we talked about a few days ago?” Adaira asked hopefully. She leaned forward toward Adaira, her dark eyes wide and pleading. “Please, Keira, tell me you have formed a plan to help me escape from this place!”

“I need you to promise me something.” Keira’s voice was firm and insistent.

“Anything!” Adaira was desperate. “Anything at all.” Her hands were clasped so tightly together that her knuckles showed white beneath her skin.

“I need you to promise that whatever I say to you will not leave this room.” Keira took Adaira’s hands and squeezed them gently. “Not a word to anyone. I must have your word.”

“You have it,” Adaira replied. “I know you are a woman of honor, and I trust you.”

Her tone was sincere, and Keira had no doubt that she was telling the truth.

“Thank you,” Keira said, smiling. “First of all, Adaira, I must tell you that I am not what I seem to be. I am not merely the wealthy daughter of a laird, to be married to the first man my father thinks is fit for me. I am the leader of a band of rebels who are determined to unseat my father.”

Adaira looked shocked at first, and then she laughed. “That is incredible!” she cried. “So you are working against my husband. Who else is with you?”