Chapter 2

Chapter Two

James rolled his sore shoulder, tossing his armor on the single bed. His quarters were small, yet bigger than most of the other guards under the Laird. Most of the rooms were simple, with stone walls, no windows, small fireplaces, a bed, and a stand with a mirror. James dipped his hands into the bowl of water on his stand, splashing it up onto his face. He let the cold water drip back into the bowl, his eyes closed for a moment.

His shoulder thumped from practice with the guard, something he didn't get to do that often. He was the Laird's favorite when it came to personal protection and had gotten that honor by saving his life during a hunting party the Laird had gone out with the guard on. James wasn't fond of the man in any way, but he knew that when he joined the clan, and decided to be part of the guard as a way to blend in without much notice, he had to treat the Laird with respect and honor.

James opened his eyes and stared at his reflection in the mirror. He had been there for seven years, yet it had felt like an eternity. He had arrived just a year after the former Laird had passed, a man that James met when he was just a boy. Arriving at the clan, he thought that his successor, the Laird's brother, would be just as kind and joyful, but he was wrong. Nonetheless, he was there, and he couldn't go home, so he decided to make the best of it.

One part of being on the castle grounds was hearing the whispers of stories, the rumors that floated like ghosts through the dark, barren halls of the castle. One of them had to do with the late Laird's daughters, four beautiful girls, far apart in age, that seemed to hide away in the outskirts of the castle. James had asked some of the men about them after he met Blair, but he got few answers. It was almost as if they were afraid to speak about it.

Over the years, though, James was able to realize the danger the girls were constantly in. He himself had saved the younger girls a time or two from being left in the dankness of the dungeons, to be forgotten, by the Laird's son, Bram. He was a nasty young man, with wickedness and bloodlust flowing through him. He wasn't, however, a very stout or strong lad, and tended to flout his title in other brutish and torturous ways. One thing was very clear, both Bram and the Laird despised the girls, and no one really knew why. Nor did they venture to enquire.

Grabbing a clean rag, James washed the day's dirt and sweat from his face and neck. He smoothed his short golden hair back with water, and walked over to his small hutch, pulling his dress uniform from the bottom. It was rare that the Laird asked him to an event in any capacity other than his personal guard, but that night, he had been requested as a dinner guest of sorts. He knew the Laird had been in high spirits, tending to the clan business, leaving his son up to mischief on the grounds. James wasn't taking the invite as a showing of honor, but more as his presence representing the guard's captain, who was away on an assignment in London.

Schmoozing with the clan's most loved and wealthy was not his favorite of tasks, but James would dawn his best pants, boots, tunic, and plaids for the occasion, and hold himself in high regard to the rest. Besides, he knew that Blair and her sisters had been requested, or ordered, to attend the dinner. James would take any chance to see Blair, even from across the room.

Knowing his time was growing short, James hurried and dressed, strapping his sword to his side. He headed into the castle, using the guard's entrance, then up to the dining hall, where he was shown to his seat at the back of the room. He was happy to be out of the spotlight, and hopefully out of the Laird's roving glare.

Other members of the clan came in, talking and smiling amongst each other. Things were different, or so he had been told, than before the Laird had taken control of the clan. They ran the clan much like James had seen England being run, when he was there as a young lad. The Laird took the best of everything, bestowing gifts on those who did his bidding, and leaving the other clan members hungry and alone in their small cottages across the land. No one dared leave, though, as few clan members would go against the Laird or his son, who would one day take hold of the title himself.

Within the meandering of people, James watched as Blair and her sisters arrived from the side entrance, their clothing proper but old, their expressions like stone. Blair kept her eyes on her sisters as they were sat at a table up front and to the side, out of view of almost everyone there. He watched as Bram glared down at the girls, chuckling and whispering something to his servant, a snide boy, younger than Bram, more his friend and henchman than his servant. The girls didn't stare back, though, keeping their eyes on their hands the whole time.

James knew of some of the terror they had undergone after the death of their parents, told to him by Blair, but he could tell there was far more left untold. He couldn't even begin to imagine those things, as his mind couldn't handle the thought. James breathed deeply as the Laird entered, everyone standing until he sat. As Blair took a seat across the room, she glanced over at James and then down at her hands, her cheeks rosier than normal. James wondered if she was feeling alright, or if something had happened.

The Laird stood again, smiling down at everyone. He was a large man, his beard long and braided, his red hair pulled into a bushy ponytail down his back. His wife rarely said a word. She was a stout woman, rosy cheeks, with little knowledge of anything other than her small group of gaggling women that she would surround herself with. She constantly looked jolly, and James couldn't help but wonder if that was on purpose, to hide any fear or loathing of the Laird, or because she was just that dense and ignorant. He suspected it was her lack of knowledge and care for the situation.

"Thank ye fer comin' to me dinner tonight," the Laird said, smiling. "We've been makin' way with lots of changes fer this clan. Changes that will bring prosperity where it's due."

The men all nodded in happy agreement, oblivious to anything besides their pockets. The Laird nodded. "Aye, and it is you men I have to thank fer all the hard work. We have made some alliances, traded some lands and some goods that we won't be needin' fer anything, in order to ensure we are a strong clan with allies at our backs."

James' eyes shifted toward Blair who took a slow deep breath. He noticed her jaw clench with her teeth as he spoke. It wasn't often they were ordered to dinner, and the Laird's words seemed to be getting to Blair more than usual.

The Laird continued, not even glancing over at the girls. "Tonight, we feast, thankin' God fer our plenty, readyin' ourselves fer a future of strength in our lands. This clan will not be lost to peddlers and thieves like so many others."

The men cheered, James leaning back in his chair as he listened.

"We will have bread on our tables," the Laird declared. "Ale in our cups. And women in our beds fer a long time to come." James watched his eyes shift toward Blair and her sisters and back to the crowd. "Thankfully, we can also unload some unneeded baggage we've been hangin' onto fer far too long."

James gritted his teeth, hating how the Laird and Bram stared the girls down, as if they were nothing but dirt beneath their feet. He watched Blair's cheeks redden more, and wondered what the Laird was talking about, especially the part about the extra baggage. Surely he wouldn't have allowed them to stay in the castle that long only to get rid of them then. No, he would make them slaves to Bram before he did that. One thing about the Laird that James knew to be true, was that he didn't give up his possessions very easily, and he looked at the girls as nothing more than that.

Sadly, James knew all too well what it was like to have family turn on you. He knew the deep seeded anger that welled inside of a person each and every day after being rejected by their own blood. He had seen that anger in Blair, and he knew the time would come when he would see the same in the other three as well.

When the speeches were done, the music started, and everyone began to eat and drink. James picked at his food, smiled, spoke to a few people, as he was required to do, but mostly stayed in his corner for the event, keeping one eye on the girls the whole time. They didn't move from their spots, only eating a few properly cut pieces of food, and sipping their water. They were never given ale, even the oldest.

As the dinner continued, the drinks heavily flowing as they always did, James watched as one of the guards was dispatched, sent to escort the girls back to their rooms. James blotted his lips and took his ale, acting as if he were perusing the crowd. He scooted along the wall toward the servant exit and dipped into the hallway, nearly running into two of the girls serving that night.

"Apologies," he quickly said, setting his cup down on the table.

James hurried through the service area and out into the castle, rushing up to the girls. He took several paces ahead of them and nodded to the guard. "I can see the girls to their rooms. I want to make sure that the Laird and his son are properly cared for this evening. We do have many clansmen here, drinking far too much ale."

The guard, knowing James and his status amongst them, didn't question him. He nodded and rolled back, heading out of sight. James stayed quiet, knowing Blair was watching, and took the three younger girls back to their rooms before escorting Blair back to her door.

Blair was silent, standing and staring down at her hands. Her beautiful gray eyes glistened as tears threatened to spill over. James furled his brow, reaching up and tilting Blair's head upward. "You are awfully silent this evening. But you do look quite lovely in those clothes. A change to the apron I see you wearin' daily on the grounds."

Usually a statement like that from James would elicit a response from Blair, but she kept her eyes staring forward, her face almost stone cold. James narrowed his eyes at her, lowering his voice. "Would you like to practice tonight, in our usual spot?"

Blair sucked in a deep breath, her eyes shifting from the wall to James. Slowly, her teeth unclenched and she let out a deep sigh. "I have much to do. I am leaving next week. I thought it would be talked about tonight, and in a way it was. I have been given away as a gift to the alliance of clans. I am to be wed to Laird McFerguson."

James' heart started beating faster in his chest, and he could feel a panic rise over him. The sounds of the change of guard echoed in the background, shaking him from the shock. There were so many things he wanted to say, but he knew he couldn't.

"Of course, well…I'm sorry, I must go to the changing of the guards, to ensure everything is done smoothly. I…"

"Goodnight, James," Blair said, slipping into her room and shutting the door.

James' heart dropped and he turned, knowing he didn't have any duty that night, but it was the only thing that would keep him from spilling all of his secrets and desires right then and there. Blair was leaving, and James didn't know how to even begin to feel about her marriage, or her absence. He was beginning to think he would never outrun his secrets.