Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

“ P ut me down,” Katherine screamed, pummeling her fists into the laird’s back. “Put me down this minute.”

Of course, Laird Domhnall MacLeod did no such thing, and instead, actually laughed as he continued to carry her.

“This is unacceptable. How dare you humiliate me like this in front of everyone,” she bellowed.

She squirmed to free herself, while at the same time, continuing with her aggressive attack on his back, but the man did not flinch. Even in her fury, she was not really surprised. He was a great big oaf, and clearly, as strong as an ox. But nor could she believe he would treat her in such a way.

Knowing she was a lady, and not one of the wenches he was likely used to, he had still lifted her over his shoulder with no regards for her dignity. She could feel her cheeks burning, both with anger and humiliation, for the men who were with her had no choice but to look on helplessly. How was she supposed to look them in the eye after this?

“Put me…”

But as she felt his hands on her waist, she didn’t get to finish her demand, for a second later, she was on her feet, standing between the laird and a fine-looking horse. Behind him, the guards who had accompanied her on the long journey across the island were already clambering back onto their own horses, and the two men who had arrived with the laird now walked towards them.

“Turn around,” the laird said.

Katherine frowned and looked confused.

“Ye’re riding with me,” he replied.

Katherine shook her head and was about to protest, when once again, he took her by the waist and ignoring her gasps, lifted her onto the saddle. A second later, he hooked his foot into the stirrup, and throwing his leg over the broad back of the horse, landed directly behind her.

Katherine was aghast. She had never been so close to a man before.

“Surely, this is not suitable,” she cried. “We should not be in such proximity without a chaperone.”

She heard Laird MacLeod chuckling, and suddenly, his hands gripped her and he pulled her abruptly back into him.

“Oh,” she cried.

Bringing his mouth to her ear, he growled, “We dinnae go in fer all that nonsense here, me lady. That’s the problem with ye English. Ye all have sticks up yer arses with all yer rules.”

“How dare you?” Katherine gasped. “You have no?—”

“We’re heading back tae the castle,” the laird said, completely talking over her, and speaking to one of his companions now on their horse.

“We’ll race ye,” the man said, grinning mischievously.

Katherine gasped and spun her head to look at Laird MacLeod. “You wouldn’t dare.”

The brute, once again ignoring her, grinned back at his companion. “The last one tae get there buys the first round when we’re next in the tavern.”

The other two appeared delighted at such a challenge, and before Katherine knew what was happening, the laird grabbed her tightly around the waist and jerked the reins, forcing his horse forward.

In utter terror, she could do nothing but grip his thick arm that held her tightly at the waist as the horse thundered forward towards the huge walls of Dunvegan Castle. The rise and fall of the horse caused her to thump against the saddle in great discomfort, and alongside the terror of travelling at such a ridiculous speed, she suffered the pain of her behind being bruised as the horse galloped on.

Katherine was only grateful that the castle was reasonably close, for five minutes later, they slowed down to a trot as the castle gates yawned open. The echo of the horses’ hooves clattered on the cobblestone beneath when they entered into the outer courtyard, and as she looked down at those they passed, she was met with curious gazes.

At that moment, the laird’s threat came back to her. Not knowing the man, she hadn’t been able to tell if he was joking earlier about the dungeons. Surely, now he knew who she was, he wouldn’t dare.

It hasn’t stopped him from treating you brusquely so far.

Indeed, it hadn’t, and maybe, under the circumstances, she was going to have to play this a little smarter.

Approaching the stables, the laird brought his horse to a slow stop. Without turning to look at him, Katherine used her softest voice. “Are you really going to throw me into the dungeons?”

For a moment, he didn’t answer. And as though he had to think about it, he said, “Aye, I will if ye dinnae behave.”

She had no intention of behaving, as he called it, but she didn’t want him to know that. And thus, instead of replying in the biting tone she had used earlier, she continued in her softened tone and nodded.

“I swear, I will curb my temper and behave in a proper manner from now on,” she said submissively.

The laird jumped down from the horse, looked her in the eye as though trying to read her face, and upon seeing her coy expression, he nodded.

“Good.”

He then reached up and with his hands about her waist, he lifted her with little effort off the horse. But Katherine was nobody’s fool, nor was she going to submit to this man or any other, for that matter. The anger she had hidden so well, rose up once again, and with a swift kick, she caught the laird right between the legs.

While he let out a deep-throated cry of agony, his face crumpling with the pain, while his body doubled over, Katherine hissed, “If you think I’ll be a good little wife, obeying every word of the man who killed my father, you can think again.”

But her own rage seemed to pale as she watched the laird’s face burn redder and redder, and it was clear, it wasn’t just because of the pain he suffered. He was building into a manic rage, and with his fists and teeth clenched and his eyes glaring at her, it was taking him great effort to keep himself under control.

“Domhnall,” a man beside him bellowed. It was the same man who had baited the laird to race earlier.

The laird spun and glared at the him.

“Braither,” he continued, walking over to the laird. “Ye must calm yersel’.”

Brother?

Only then did Katherine take a closer look at the two men who now stood beside her future husband. With her attention focused on their features, she now saw something she hadn’t noticed before. Under the circumstances, she supposed it wasn’t surprising.

When the laird had brought their party to a halt earlier, she had been bitterly cold and very weary from all the travelling. She had assumed the men to be peasants by the way they were dressed. Interfering peasants, at that. A part of her was also frightened, for she had imagined they were about to be robbed. Her brother had warned her about bandits on the road, and how she and her guards needed to be careful.

At no point, in her anger and terror, had she made any effort to connect the men to each other. She had no reason to do so. But now, knowing that they were not peasants at all, Katherine was able to look at the circumstance with far more clarity, and indeed, it was evident that the three were brothers. Not all exactly alike, of course, but the family resemblance could not be denied.

Domhnall, as his brother had called him, did not reply, but seemed to continue to battle to control himself more than an ordinary man might.

Great! My future husband has a fiery temper. Just what I need.

Without any warning, the laird was suddenly by her side, and gasping, for her feet hardly touched the floor, she was carried from the courtyard, through a large wooden door, down stone steps, and through another corridor.

Finally arriving at the cells of the dungeon, Katherine breathlessly stared up at him. “What the devil was that? How did you do that?”

The laird only scowled down at her before nodding to the guard, who, on his laird’s rather sudden arrival, had jumped up from his chair in a panic.

“Open this gate,” he growled.

“Aye, me laird,” the prison guard replied hurriedly, floundering to release the large bunch of jingling keys from his belt.

Once unlocked, the gate to the cell creaked open, and the laird jerked his head at her to enter. She could protest, even try to fight, but there was no point. He had already displayed his great strength. Besides, she didn’t relish the idea of being thrown over his shoulder a second time.

Angrily, Katherine stormed into the cell, before turning to scowl back at him. He then grabbed the gate and slammed it closed. Still wincing a little he readjusted his manhood, causing Katherine’s face to flush with heat. Clearly, he had no qualms at doing such a vulgar thing in front of her, but it was certainly not something she was used to seeing.

“Ye’re only getting what ye deserve. I am the laird o’ Clan MacLeod and I willnae be humiliated in front o’ me own people.” He then frowned. “What did ye mean earlier when ye said I am the man who murdered yer faither?”

For a long moment, Katherine only snarled at him. He may well pretend that he didn’t know what she was talking about, but he didn’t fool her.

Or perhaps, he doesn’t know who your father is? One hardly goes around asking names at these battles.

It was a fair point, but one that did little for her anger or the feeling of animosity she had towards him.

“You battled with my father, and you slaughtered him where he stood,” she spat.

The laird shook his head. “I cannae remember such a time. I ken yer people, and though I will admit, I have battled many an Englishman, I would remember if I’d killed a man o’ nobility.”

“Oh, what do you care? To you, one Englishman is no different to the next,” she snarled. She then turned away and sighed heavily. “I was very close to my father, and I miss him every day.” She spun around to glare at him. “No thanks to you.”

“What proof dae ye have that it was I who killed him?” the laird asked, looking far calmer than her.

“What do you mean, proof? I have been told by my brother and I trust him with my life. He has no reason to lie to me. You, on the other hand…” she said, trailing off and not feeling it necessary to finish the sentence.

The laird seemed to look at her for a long moment, and then his reflective expression faded as he said, “I will keep ye locked up here unless ye begin acting like the lady ye are supposed tae be, and stop embarrassing us both.”

But after thinking of her poor father once more, her anger rose with her loss, and stepping towards the bars, she spat in his face. “Is that ladylike enough for you?”

The laird did not flinch. In fact, after wiping his cheek, he smiled condescendingly down at her, which only made her fume even more.

“I’d prefer to rot down here for all eternity than spend a second at your side.”

“As ye wish,” he replied, still smirking.

And without another word, he turned on his heels and walked away.

The guard had returned to his position, and Katherine stood there for a long moment, considering her circumstances. Perhaps, if she wasn’t so angry, she would lament at the mess she had managed to get herself into, but she was, and so she didn’t. Instead, she paced around the cell in agitation.

It took some time for her anger to subside, but when it did, she eventually threw herself down onto the bed that hung from the wall by thick chains. Leaning forward with her elbows on her knees, she rested her face in her hands.

Looking about her, Katherine took in her new residence. Not once in her life had she ever been close to a dungeon, and thus, she had nothing to compare it to. That being said, she did feel surprised at her surroundings. The room was clean. Cold and bare, but clean. From the stories she had heard, she imagined she might be surrounded by cobwebs, or skeletons. And rats. People always talked about rats in dark, wet places such as the one she found herself in, but she could see none. Not yet, at any rate.

“Well, this is just wonderful,” she huffed. “Not only am I being forced to marry the man who killed my father, it appears he’s a complete ogre to go along with it.”

Let’s not forget your part in all of this.

Katherine shook her head and ignored her inner chatter. Whatever she had said or done was deserved, and she refused to believe otherwise. Harsh words and a little pain were hardly enough punishment for the man who had made her an orphan.

She sighed again, thinking about her father. He had been a good man, an honest and forthright one. And though emotions were not something that men expressed, he had always made certain that she felt his love for her.

Staring into nothingness, memories of her father seeped into her mind, and for some time, she simply sat there remembering him. She hadn’t done that for quite some time. With the news of her forced marriage, and the fact she was going to have to leave all her companions and what little family she had behind, her mind had been occupied with other things.

The sound of men talking in the corridor pulled her from her memories, and looking through the iron gate that held her prisoner, she watched as two guards brought food and ale to another prisoner across the way. There was some conversation between them, and then the men turned towards her. Clearly, she and the other prisoner were the only ones there.

“Stay back from the gate,” the guard who had unlocked her cell earlier called out.

She was nowhere near the gate, and when he unlocked and opened it, she remained where she was, sat on the bed.

“The laird has sent food, ale, and some fresh clothes fer ye,” one of the men said, draping a blanket and clothes at the end of her bed. The other man beside him placed her tray of food and ale on the floor near her feet.

Neither of them said another word, and turning, they exited the cell, where the door was, once again, locked.

She stared at the food and ale feeling slight surprise. She had imagined she would be left down there to rot, especially after she had spat in the laird’s face - that had probably been a step too far, but the rage had taken her over at the time. The last thing she expected was any grace or mercy after the way she had acted.

When she knew the guard was now nowhere near her, Katherine moved across the room and gazed down at the plate. On it sat a chunk of bread, some sort of meat, and a number of vegetables. She was hungry and thirsty, but surely, to eat and drink now would wordlessly tell him that he had won, and that she had come to accept her circumstances.

She certainly had not.

Steeling herself, she turned away from the offerings and moved back to the bed. If he thought he could manipulate and persuade her so easily, the man was a bigger fool than she had assumed. She would starve if she had to, but Katherine refused to be played.